Cennessa woke at first light. Her big body shivered in the cool damp air under the I-95 overpass bridge. She, a big-boned grey-headed older woman dressed in denim overalls and a dingy white undershirt, wrapped a faded blue, clay-stained blanket about her head and shoulders for warmth.
Despite her haphazard homeless appearance, faint traces of youthful beauty remained on her face along with the lingering vacant confusion inside her eyes. A sturdy piece of dirty white twine hung around her neck. It was looped through two punched holes at the top of a rough cardboard sign. Thick black capital letters read, “HELP THE HOMELESS. DONATIONATIONS ACCEPTED.” Her friend Joseph made the sign. He was like God, always around when she needed help.
Under the overpass bridge, she greeted Joseph and her other homeless companions before she left for the day, placed her few possessions in a big white trash bag, hefted it over her right shoulder, and began her walk. Cennessa was on her way to the sitting-spot she claimed. It was located beside the stop sign at the corner of Evan’s Mill Road and Vine. As she walked, she looked back now and again at the familiar little boy-baby shadow who followed her. She muttered, “There you are. You joining me this morning Sugar?” It made no difference that her little boy-baby shadow never answered.
On the way to her spot, she smiled as she thought of her special secret. It belonged only to her and nobody else. But, somehow, she’d forgotten exactly what it was. Cennessa dimly understood her secret had something to do with why her little boy-baby shadow followed her.
When she arrived at her spot, a nice young man waiting to cross the street at the stop sign glanced at her. She said, “Good Morning Mister. Uh, my name’s Cennessa. Will you please give me a little money so I can get something to eat?”
“Yes Ma’am, I’ll help you.” He handed over a ten-dollar bill.
She beamed and shoved the money deep down inside her big bosoms. “Thank you, sir.”
“I’m very pleased to donate to your worthy cause Ma’am.”
Cennessa smiled and nodded her head agreeably as she concentrated on looking the young man over from top to bottom. Uh Huh. You must be a fine young man. I can tell you got pleasant manners. If I had a baby boy, I’d want him to grow up and be like you.
The young man said, “Ma’am, would you mind if I sit with you?”
“No sir I don’t mind at all. Have a seat. You’re welcome to keep me company.”
The young man awkwardly settled himself on the street curb beside the older woman. He turned to her and quietly asked an important question. “Ma’am, would you sell me the story of how you came to be homeless? You see, I collect people’s stories the way some people collect stamps. I’ll pay you twenty-five dollars if you’ll tell it to me.”
“Why yes sir, that’ll be alright. I’ll tell it the best I can. My minds not so good.”
“I’d like to hear it.”
“Well, I was young, maybe 15 or so when I first left home.”
“That was really young.”
“Yeah. But times were hard back then. I burdened my folks. They didn’t turn me out to the streets. But, because of my crazy ways, they put me in the insane asylum in Milledgeville for my own good. Daddy said I laid down with a bunch of men and got a baby in my belly. I don’t remember the laying down with men part, but I remember my big belly. Anyhow, they didn’t know how to stop me from getting in trouble. So, I was put in the insane asylum.
“Now don’t go feeling sorry for me. It was the best place I’d ever lived. I had a clean bed to sleep in all by myself, clean clothes to wear, indoor bathrooms, enough food to eat, and doctors who helped clear up my mind.”
“How’d they do that?”
“Shock treatments mostly. Most everybody had them. I know that scares you. But the electric shock helped me think. Honest, it didn’t hurt a bit. After I’d had a few I started remembering things.”
“Did you have the baby there?”
“I don’t know. I don’t remember nothing about a baby. But I wish I did.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It don’t matter. There’s lots of stuff I don’t remember. But I do know they fixed me before I had to leave.”
“They fixed you?”
“Yeah. So I wouldn’t have babies.”
“Were you angry about that?”
“Oh no. I knew the truth. A crazy woman like me laying down with a man might make a baby. I wasn’t mindful enough to take care of a baby in real life. It was a good thing they did for me.”
“Why did you leave the asylum?”
“The people who worked there said it was closing down. My folks didn’t want me back. I was told my name was put in for a spot in a group home, but I never heard anything more. When I left for good through the front doors with my clothes in a paper sack, the people who ran the asylum gave me a hundred dollars and said goodbye.
“I didn’t know what to do next, so I wandered about for a long time. I don’t remember nothing about my long wanderings. All I know is, out of the blue, I found myself here in Atlanta. I didn’t like it here at first. I feared the bad men who looked at me night and day. I was afraid they might kill me. Then, I met Joseph and his friends. They said I could be with them so I wouldn’t be scared. I’ve been here ever since. During the daytime we go our own ways but near sundown we meet up. They are my family. Whether we sleep in a grove of trees or under a bridge it don’t matter because we are together. Joseph calls us “The Lost Souls of Glory.”
“Ma’am, If you’d given birth to a baby boy what name would you have given him?”
“Andy, I’d have named him Andy after my Daddy.”
The young man smiled at her answer as he carefully counted out twenty-five dollars from his wallet to Cennessa’s waiting hand. “Ma’am, thank you for your story. I will treasure it.”
She shyly reached out and touched his arm, “Mister, what’s your name?”
He put his hand out and gently shook her hand, “My name is Andrew Turner, but my friends call me Andy.”
She peered into his face and memorized his kindness. She said, “Mister, that’s a nice name.”
She waved goodbye and nodded her head cheerfully as the nice young man, whose name was Andy. walked away. Cennessa suddenly realized her little boy-baby shadow followed Andy all the way across the street. She bowed her head low and cried brokenheartedly. I love you little boy-baby shadow. If you leave me, I will miss you every day. She sadly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and looked up. She was relieved to find her sweet little boy-baby shadow sitting beside her on the street curb.
Cennessa laughed, “Sugar, I think you liked that nice young man too. I’ve got an idea. How about I name you Andy. You’d have the same name as the nice young man. How about that?” She didn’t expect her little boy-baby shadow to answer but she knew he was happy to have Andy’s name.
As she conversed with her little boy-baby shadow a miracle took place within Cennessa’s mind. Her cloudy eyes cleared, and she remembered her secret. She knew without a doubt. that once long ago, for only a second, she’d held her real baby boy in her arms. She understood why her little boy-baby shadow followed her. Her disabled mind did not have the ability to remember her real baby-boy, so her heart provided a little boy-baby shadow to take his place and love her forever.
Carolyn Slovitz is a young seventy-something imaginative creator of stories who highlights her story character’s optimistic point of view. Her stories end happily or as happy as possible. She has two children’s books ready for publishing, “Miss Mean Minnie Greene,” and “Coco and Nestle, Double Trouble Dachshunds,” an endearing hilarious Christmas story. Carolyn also has a longer fictional work in progress about the homeless street people of Atlanta.
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