It wasn’t as awful as it could have been, living behind the loading dock of an old office building. Lou adapted. He still began each day with a “Hi to the Sun” in the parking lot next to his step van. On cold, wet mornings he would go through the routine in his jacket and wide-brimmed hat. Then upstairs to the bathroom and back downstairs for coffee at the Rise & Shine. Afternoons spent at ADA. Late in the day his friend Doug would sneak Lou into the back door of the YMCA. Those showers and saunas were a welcome deviation from hours alone in the cold, silent step van.
Lou saved all he could from his small stipend for building maintenance. Two weeks had passed since the WECU debacle, and he still didn’t know if he’d ever see his savings again. Meanwhile, he picked up a portable electric heater and a used hot plate. He was now able to warm up the step van and cook one-pot meals. It was considerably better than being cold and eating granola and fruit all day.
Lou remained stumped by the interconnected problems of no telephone line and no work. He needed one to get the other. He felt lucky to have the ADA phone to make calls at night. A lot of good it did him. The only person he truly wanted to talk to never seemed to be home.
One night, Lou’s call was answered. By Anne.
“Oh, Lou. I haven’t seen you in a while.” He didn’t hear any joy in her greeting.
“No. A lot has changed. Things are pretty messed up.”
“You don’t sound happy.”
“I was thinking the same about you.”
“No, things are messed up here as well.”
Lou was aware of the fighting between Anne and Philip. He just wasn’t in the mood to get into it. “Sorry to hear it. I don’t think I can be very supportive right now. I’m super stressed about everything.”
“Yeah, I know the feeling. For what it’s worth, Lou, you always have been very supportive. I wish…well, never mind.”
“Anyway, can I talk to Jax?”
“Um, she’s not home right now.”
“Do you know when she’ll be back?”
There was hesitation on Anne’s part. “I think maybe you should talk to her, Lou.”
He took that as an odd response, given that was his reason for calling.
“Yeah, I’m trying to. I haven’t been able to reach her.”
“I know. I don’t know what to say. Do you want to leave a message for her?”
Lou sighed, frustrated again. Why did even this have to be so hard? “Yeah, I guess. Let her know I had to move. I’m parked behind the Cascadia Market building now. But she can’t call me, ‘cause I don’t have my own phone. Which I can’t get because I—” He stopped talking, realizing he had nothing but complaints, not what Anne needed to hear. “Ya know what, I’ll just tell her myself.”
Lou lost his battle for sleep. He claimed only fits of troubled exhaustion that were more a defeat of spirit than a rest of brain and body. His mind couldn’t let go of the perplexity of what he didn’t understand combined with the assaults of his environment. His exasperation at failing to reach Jax had twisted into infuriation over why she hadn’t reached out to him. What was going on? What is she up to? And why did he remain fixated on the inexplicable?
With this night of turbulent notions, as if summoned by them, came a hard chill from the north, chased by a wind-driven rainstorm. Lou clutched his blankets closer as a fierce gust whistled through his house on wheels. A pelting clatter upon the metal roof echoed within. From outside came the deep wail of a freight train’s horn, its rumble and screech, steel wheels scraping iron rails, as it passed the empty station.
Lou rose, defeated, to contend with the heartless day. The sky was shrouded in dark clouds, a somber veil before the rising sun. A chilling shower continued. He went inside the building and upstairs to splash his face. The paper towel dispenser was empty. Lou patted himself dry with his coat sleeves, then went downstairs.
It was too early. The café hadn’t opened yet. Lou stood in the heavy rain, his body tense, a throbbing behind his eyes. With no sense of purpose or destination, but a fair degree of foolishness, Lou began to walk. Maybe this would loosen his body, ease his headache, clear his thoughts. If none of these, he might chance upon a place for coffee. He wrestled up the thought that every corner should have a coffee shop. But, no, he realized. Such was an idiot’s dream birthed in desperation.
Lou walked through the downpour, his mind replaying the questions of earlier, his feet pacing along streets by rote. He turned left or right or headed straight by no decree but habit. He followed the puddled sidewalks. Hands in his pockets. Collar up. Head down.
In short time his demons returned. His life a wreck, house demolished, work gone. Jax absent. Why was she never home? He had spoken with Anne, at least. Lou thought about that last conversation. There were pieces of it that bothered him, words that Anne did not say. Why did she say he should talk to Jax, when that was why he had called? And Anne had started to say something. I wish… I wish what? What did that mean?
There was a time when Lou had wondered about Anne. When there might have been a shared feeling. Isn’t that what Malcolm said? But Anne stayed with Philip. She struggled with Philip. And now that relationship sounded torn, ripped apart by opposite visions.
Lou stopped walking. A surprising idea crept up on him. His impulse was to reject it as nonsense, a meaningless distraction. Yet his memories of Anne held fast. Might it be, possibly, that his obsession with Jax was a pointless misdirection? No way, he countered. But hadn’t he shared an apartment with Anne? Wasn’t that easy, relaxed, fun? No, it doesn’t matter. And remember, of course he remembered, the first time he went to their house? It wasn’t to meet Jax, was it? It was to see gentle, sensible, caring Anne.
Lou looked up from the sidewalk.
He was standing before their house.