Different Forms of Happiness

Part 4

"You're right," Scott answered with a sigh.  "I'll jog down the stairs, maybe that will help." He turned to walk away, but when he pivoted back towards him, Graham panicked.  "You think we should walk nearby and try it out too?  I mean, the more sweat the better."

Flashes of his car flew through his mind as he nodded in agreement.  "Definitely; walking is a great idea."

"Good," Scott mumbled, "then you won't mind if I take the elevator with you, huh?  I mean, I'm going to be sweating from the walk anyway."

The amusement gleaming in his friend's eyes let Graham know that his maneuver had been found out.  Letting out a sigh, he rolled his eyes.  "Fine, but stay away from me.  This suit is new, you know.  I had Nan make sure it was fitted for those meetings with the uptight men who stare at you if you wear anything under the cost of a thousand."

"I should marry Nan," Scott grumbled as they entered the elevator. 

Graham gagged in exaggeration while pulling a handkerchief from his jacket and pressing it to his face.  "I've tried.  The woman insists that she's too old for us."

The elevator dinged, signaling his escape.  Jumping from the mechanism, he ran straight into the man standing there.  Wincing, he pulled away from him.  "Sorry, Mr. Richardson, but some homeless man was allowed on the elevator.  You see," Graham said while leaning closer, "I believe he may have something other than bad breath."

Mr. Richardson straightened, sent a ghastly glance towards Scott and took off towards the stairs. 

"Graham," Scott grumbled.

He shrugged.  "The man needs the exercise."

"He looked perfectly fine to me," his friend answered in confusion as they walked out of the large apartment building.

"That," Graham started in amusement, "is because he wears a girdle."

"He does not."

Graham walked through the door, nodding at the door attendant who held it open for him.  "Yes, he does, just ask his wife."  He hurried on before Scott could ask him why exactly he knew that fact from Mrs. Richardson.  They story was not as sordid as one would think.  The truth of the matter was that Mrs. Richardson had had too much to drink and told a little too much while in the elevator.  Hmm, it seemed as if that elevator got a lot of attention.

He stopped at a bench, looking at it with wonder before nodding towards it.  "There you go.  Sit here, cover your legs with the trash bag, and hold your cup out."

"What cup?"

"This one," he answered, snatching the discarded cup on top of the garbage can sitting next to the bench.

Scott grabbed it with a disgusted expression on his face.  "Why couldn't you be the homeless person and I get the numbers?"

"She won't recognize you this way," he answered easily. 

Rolling his eyes, Scott took his position on the bench.  As soon as he sat, Graham walked a distance away before leaning against a nearby wall, near enough to see what was happening, but far enough away for it not to look like he was watching a homeless man. 

A couple walked by Scott.  The man didn't glance his way, but the woman with him nudged his arm.  He could almost hear the man let out a frustrated groan as he fished through his back pocket to deposit a fistful of change.  They walked on, passing by Graham, but he made no more towards the woman.  There was nothing he could do with a woman who was already taken.

Another woman hustled by, her head down low as if she was trying to pass without being noticed.  He saw her speed up as she passed Scott, and he let out a disappointed sigh.  The woman would have been perfect for Scott, if only she would show a little generosity.

A man, who looked in just as bad of shape as Scott, walked by.  To Graham's surprise, he stopped, reached in his pocket and dropped some money into the cup before nodding and walking away.  He passed by Graham, and he couldn't help himself. 

"Hey," Graham started, making the man stop in his tracks and look at him in surprise.  "I couldn't help but see what you did for that man back there."

The guy smiled, and with a start, Graham realized that the man was younger than Graham was.  What looked like a man was definitely a guy who had to be no older than twenty.  "You don't understand how relieving it is when someone helps you out.  I couldn't let him sit there without the reassurance of his next meal."

"Um, look, I was wondering if you would like a job."

"What?" the man asked, his expression faltering.  "What kind of job?"

"What can you do?" Graham asked.

The man shrugged.  "Anything that isn't against the law or my moral code.  I finished high school; so, I know the basics."

Pulling a card from his pocket, he handed it to the man.  "Go here in about thirty minutes.  Grab anything you have to bring with you.  I cannot promise you a spot at my place, but I'll find something suitable for you.  Don't think that you will freeload though," Graham warned.  "I expect you to do work.  Whether it is digging holes on the side of the road or answering my phone."

"I wouldn't think of doing anything without giving something in return," the man answered, taking the card gingerly and slipping it into his front pocket.  "You can only help someone so much before they must help themselves," he mumbled as he began walking off.

Graham let out a sigh as the man left.  This was just what he needed, another person to take care of.  He glanced up, just as he did, a woman dropped money into the man's cup with a smile.  She also dug around into her purse before pulling out what looked like a granola bar and a bottle of water.  Placing them into Scott's hands, she waved before walking off.

As she got closer, Graham's heart beat in his chest.  He recognized the dark hair put in a bun on the top of her head, the glasses balancing on her nose, and the bounce in her step.  She walked by him, but hesitated for a minute.  Looking at him, she scrunched her eyebrows together.  "Do I know you?"

"Um," he stuttered before pointing behind her.

She turned, looking over her shoulder, and he took the opportunity to flee into the dark alley only a few feet away.  As he hid, he let out a frustrated groan.  What the hell was wrong with him?  She had asked a simple question, but he couldn't help it.  She had looked up at him with her trusting dark eyes, and he wanted to blurt everything, wanted to tell her their idiotic plans, and then watch her laugh.  Her eyes would sparkle, she would smile, and the plainness that everyone seemed to see, besides him, would disappear.

"Hey," someone whispered from the entry, "why are we hiding?"

He sighed, looking at the woman.  "I was hiding; you followed me."

"Sounds about right," she admitted with that smile.  "The thing is that I recognized you, but every time I see you, you're doing the most odd things.  I figured if I followed you, I would get some type of explanation."

"Sam," he started and winced when he saw her eyes widen.  "Oh, your kids told me your name," he assured her before continuing.  "I honestly don't think you would want to know."

"Try me," she said, settling beside him against the wall, "but first, why don't you tell your friend to shower and change?"

Letting out a chuckle, he shook his head at her.  "You knew all along?"

"Of course," she replied easily.  "He wasn't one of the regulars, and when I looked closer, I realized that he was the guy who stole my coffee."

"He's sorry about that."

"I'm sure he is." She laughed, shaking her own head as if she could not believe the gall of the man before she pushed away from the wall.  Motioning towards the sidewalk, she said, "Come on.  We'll go have coffee while he changes, and you can tell me all about it."

Graham watched her walk off, and there was nothing he could do but follow.