The sun began to fall down the cool alleyway outside a trendy Italian restaurant. Tom came barrelling out the side door fumbling with his jacket.
“Goddamn that woman!” he swore, as he kicked at a stone lying helplessly on the pavement. “I can’t have one nice meal without her complaining about something.”
He began kicking anything that surrounded him. A door squeaked in the distance, as if to mock him. The absurd door made him feel ashamed. He began to slowly sink to the ground, his back hitting a cool alley wall as his head fell into his hands. A voice caught his attention.
“You’re on my bed.”
Tom looked up, eyes darting to the left, then right, trying to locate the gruff voice.
“Huh?” he replied.
Hidden in the shadows, the voice growled, “I said you’re on my bed, so get off!”
Tom looked to his feet and noticed a flat piece of cardboard and a few dishevelled newspapers under them. He shot up and stepped away from them.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t see them.” Stuttered Tom, as the voice stepped forward from a nearby garbage can.
The man had dark leathery skin and ragged clothing hung from his thin frame. What seemed like a locket swung back and forth on his chest as the man trudged towards him.
“Now tell me what all of that commotion was, if I didn’t know better I would have thought you were having some girl troubles.”
Tom chuckled, “Wife actually.”
Sadness flickered across the old man’s eyes as he continued, “Well what you’ve got to go is march back in there and apologize to your girl, no matter what she’s done this time.”
This homeless man was beginning to annoy Tom; who was he to be tell him what to do. “I’ll do no such thing.” He sneered. “I’ll have plenty of time to make up with her later.”
The old man knowledgably looked up at him, “I had a wife once, and she died of cancer just three days after our thirtieth wedding anniversary. I miss her more than I miss a warm bed or students to teach.”
The statement hit him like a bucket of ice, and calmed Tom down far more than water could have. Tom felt ashamed, “I’m sorry.”
“ You should be, you great fool, now go in there and apologize to your wife and hopefully one day she’ll forgive you temper.”
The old man started to smile at Tom as he knelt down to rearrange his beddings.
“What did you do before you lived here,” Tom shifted from left to right as he scrutinized the alleyway, “ I mean, before you wife died sir?”
“I was a teacher in the prairies, but my wife and I had to move to the big city for her treatment. Then she died, and my life died with her.”
Just then a woman stumbled into the alley, her voice calling, “Tom! Where the heck are you? I told you I was kidding; you always get so worked up about these things!”
“I’m right here!” hollered Tom. He tentatively turned to the old man, “I’m sorry but I have to get going.”
Tom hurried towards his wife, then looked back suddenly, “What’s your name?”
The old man glanced up, laughter in his eyes and chuckled, “Tom, my name’s Tom.” Both men stared at one another as the younger Tom’s mouth fell open.
“For goodness sake, Tom, I said I was sorry!” Beckoned the younger’s wife; her husband ran towards her, picking her up in his arms. Laughter echoed down the alley as the young couple made up.
“Cherish her,” whispered the old man as he started straightening his cardboard bed.
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