Snowfall

SNOWFALL Reams O’Neal

After turning on the radio, CJ slipped back into bed, listening to Rushton knocking pans around in the kitchen. It would be an answered prayer if he was making banana pancakes. Rushton had not spoken to CJ that morning, though both of them had been up earlier. Usually, Rush got quiet when something was wrong. Maybe he had called his mother and asked her to get the heat turned on since the temp was in the low 30’s today. Rushton’s mom thought she was doing enough letting him live rent free in a house she owned. C.J. had moved in 4 months ago when he had a job at the car wash and could help with the food and the light bill. Although the manager praised his energy and careful work, CJ thought he could set his own rules and hours there, so that job, like many others, ended abruptly.

It was a cold Monday morning with snow in the forecast. CJ was not thinking about the opportunities of the week ahead, or the defeats of the past. He spent little time bothering with such things. He found a jazz station and closed his eyes, enjoying the moment. Even with no heat in the winter, this was the best place CJ had stayed for the past 4 years.

Rushton was a pretty good guy when he was on his meds, but he didn’t like taking meds. No doubt that’s why his mom moved him out of his childhood home. Well, that worked fine for C.J., and he felt like he had done a lot of good things to help Rushton.

C.J. listened as a car pulled up outside and the motor stopped. Bare branches outside his window rattled in the cold wind, and a poor freezing kitty cat mewed. His girl Brandi had called last night and said she might come over and chill for a while. He needed to tell Rushton. Rush didn’t get along well with Brandi. She was always asking for stuff like it was her house. “You got anything to drink, Rush?” “Yeh, water,” he would say, and laugh, but he wasn’t kidding.

Rush was jealous because the 25-year old had never had a serious girlfriend.

C.J. had to agree that he had not helped with expenses much lately. C.J.’s cousin had dropped off a bag of groceries last weekend, but they were gone.

There was a loud knock on the door. Rushton went quickly to answer and C.J. heard the buzz of voices. As he sat up in bed and began to put on his one pair of shoes, a man in a black uniform appeared in the doorway and stared at him. “I didn’t do it,” C.J. said. He was familiar with the sheriff’s office.

The officer was a veteran, about 50, graying, very direct. “Charles Walker?”

“Junior. Yezzir.” CJ stood up but stayed by the bed. This must be something about Rufus Leonard, who was forced out last month. He wanted to come and go at all hours and bring over his party friends.Rufus had just gotten out of jail when Rushton took him in. “What’s Rufus done now?” CJ asked. The rest of the house seemed really quiet. Where was Rush?

The officer asked for an ID, which C.J. produced. “You are going to need to get your stuff and leave,” the officer said firmly. “You have worn out your welcome.”

CJ shook his head, then yelled, “Hey, Rush!” No answer.

The officer’s voice was calm, routine. CJ barely heard him as he thought about where he could go. “The owner says you are not paying for lights or food. Also, there’s a female friend of yours who is over here a lot, and she’s eating his food too.”

“That is not true, officer, she brings her own food. She won’t eat junk. And Rushton is

not the owner of this joint. Hey Rushton, how much rent are you paying here? Nothing right? I

got more job applications in than you,” CJ yelled.

Rushton found his voice. “That’s what he always says. He lays in bed half the day.”

“Start packing, Walker.” The officer took a step into the room.

“It won’t take long,” CJ said with a moan. He pulled his small backpack from under the bed and put in a couple of shirts and a light jacket. He put on the drab green winter coat he had found at the thrift store 2 years ago. “I been here four months,” CJ said, trying to keep his voice calm. “You can’t just throw out a boarder without giving them two weeks’ notice. Right Rush? Rufus Leonard only lived here two months and Rush tried to kick him out, but the law said you have to give notice. Hey Rush, you can’t kick me out, I’m your social life, I’m your protection.”

The officer shook his head. “I think Mr. Dial has covered his bases on this one. You need to leave this property now.”

“Well, that’s bogus,” CJ said. He filled his backpack and two plastic grocery bags, leaving behind a worn basketball, a large drawing pad, and a soccer trophy he had carried around for years. I’ll never see that trophy again, he thought. In the dresser drawer he found 1.95 cents in change, which he quickly put into his pocket. Well, I had a shower two days ago, so I’m good until Monday. He had eaten a peanut butter sandwich last night. Rush had left an empty pizza box on the dining room table. Guess that was CJ’s “notice”.

Stepping into the hallway he said, “Hey Rush, hold onto my stuff. I can’t carry any more now.”

“I ain’t worried about your stuff,” Rushton said, pitilessly.

“Are you on foot?” the officer asked, somewhat kindly.

“Since I had to sell my longboard.” CJ said. “I know every street on this side of town.”

CJ grabbed his bags and walked out the front door alone. Wind hit his face. He wished he hadn’t lost his knit cap. He looked down the street at the houses, once so familiar, that already seemed foreign, shut off. Pulling out his cell phone, he punched in the number of his friend Matt, who had let him stay over several times. No answer. He couldn’t stay with Brandi, her dad had caught him sneaking in the window too often. Well, he had to let her know anyway.

He was surprised at how white the sky was spread, as if the snow was settling in for a while. Tree limbs were so bare they looked dead, skeleton trees. His phone was at 25%. In his backpack were a couple of granola bars and some beef jerky. When he got up early today, he should have eaten some toast.

As he walked away, he looked over the yard. There was the hedge he had trimmed, the mulch he had spread, the fire pit where he had made a roaring fire and toasted marshmallows, trying to earn his keep. This was the first place in 4 years that had felt like home.

CJ walked toward the Shell station a couple of blocks away. That’s where he had met Rushton, now he was going back. The road wasn’t slippery yet but snow was picking up. The wind cut through his coat. A lady yelled at her husband as he left the house, “Get some milk too, this could last a few days.”

So, he wouldn’t be sleeping in a warm bed tonight, but he had slept in a hammock in the woods on many cold nights, and under a bridge, and in the backseat of a small car that a friend had left unlocked. It was only 10 am. He had the day ahead of him. He called Josh, his old longboard buddy. “Hey Josh, what’s the chance of me spending a couple of nights chillin’ at your place? Your mom and dad are pretty cool about me, right?”

“Oh, hey, CJ.” As always Josh’s voice was deliberate, kind. “Sorry, CJ, we got relatives

staying over. Besides, my dad says I need to take a break from having friends over, for a while.” He sounded sorrowful, like he would have enjoyed the company too.

“Ok, peace.” CJ hung up.

He approached the Shell station. The warm busy store was a favorite hang-out for him. Even before he moved in with Rushton he was often in that area, resting on a bench outside the store, and using the restroom. He walked in and was greeted by a tall, bearded man of about 35 named Lex. When Lex had first met CJ a few months earlier he was suspicious that he was looking to steal something, but if so, Lex had never caught him. He just seemed to have nowhere else to go.

“Waz up?” CJ said, smiling and brushing snow off of his jacket. “Nice day.”

Lex grunted. “This ain’t nothing, dude. I’m from Wisconsin. How’s Rushton?”

CJ shook his head. “He’s looking for a new roomie. Can I recharge my phone here?”

Lex nodded, understanding. His dark brown eyes squinted at CJ, looking for signs of

grief, but CJ seemed at ease. Lex plugged in CJ’s phone then watched him walk over to the coffee machine and fill a cup. At the counter he groped in his pocket for the dollar and 95 cents and put it before Lex.

“I’ll give you the other nickel when I get my inheritance.”

Lex nodded, then said, “Keep it. You’ll need it.” He pushed the coins back to CJ.

“Gracias, amigo.” He sipped. "Best cup of coffee I ever had. You know, the last time I

was on the street I met a guy at the library, had to be 60 years old, who gives me a tract and ends up paying for me a hotel room for the night. Really cool. You never know.”

Lex pondered. “Better head for the library,” he said.

They talked for a while, then a line of customers came in to buy gas and hurry on to their safe, warm homes. They seemed more desperate than CJ. Lex tried to think of something hopeful. “We’re open till 11:00”, was the best he could do. “Be safe.”

While his phone was charging, CJ went outside and sat on the hard wooden bench, somewhat protected by the overhang. As the wind picked up a sheriff’s vehicle pulled up and the officer from Rushton’s house rolled down the window. “Where you headed?” he asked.

CJ shrugged. “As my dad used to say, ‘the day is young and so am I’. Adventure lies ahead. One time when I was ‘on the street’ I met a girl and we got engaged.”

The officer shook his head. “You can’t hang out here all day.”

CJ held up the cup of coffee. “Why not? I’m a customer.”

The officer drove off without another word, but he might be back.

CJ called two more numbers but got no invitation to spend the day.

He walked out into the parking lot and tried calling Matt again, but still no answer, and the mailbox was full. If he could get to Matt’s house they could go sledding over at the high school. CJ held out his hand and watched the cold snow cover his fingers, and then just as quickly the snow melted and he saw a wet, strong young hand.

Danzontwo@outlook.com