Waiting for Home

As the people on the street walked by, they looked at the young man with the guitar and the tattered clothing, wet from the light drizzle of rain that was making the smell of earth and concrete more prominent than usual in the park clearing by the large, circular water fountain. Some people stopped to listen to him play, others dropped quarters, dimes and nickels in the guitar case. Once in a while, someone would drop a whole dollar or a ten spot in there. Others listened as they sat on the other side of the fountain, texting on their phones. An older couple stopped with their grandchild to let her drop a penny in the fountain and make a wish.

“Come on, get a job,” someone sneered at the young man, who just smiled up at him and kept playing his song. A lighthearted and semi-slow melody being coaxed from the instrument by his nimble fingers.

This went on for hours, most people pleased with the music or feeling sorry for the man, assuming him to be homeless or otherwise down on his luck. Some, like the sneering person earlier, gave snide advice in obnoxious, contemptuous tones about jobs and welfare and drugs. To all of this, the young man stayed silent, accepting the praise, the sympathy, the criticisms, and the unprovoked verbal attacks with a gentle smile and kind eyes. The silence seemed to unnerve some, provoking comments in hushed tones about mental health issues. Still, the young man stayed quiet, neither confirming, denying, or defending himself.

When it was close to dark and most people had left the area, a policeman came by to inform him of the park rules. Again.

“This is the third time, Daniel. Why don't you go home? I'll bet your mother will be happy to see you. Have a meal waiting,” the officer coaxed.

“He told me not to come back,” Daniel said, his tone a bit sad but matter-of-fact.

“Then go to Roddy's. He'll put you up...isn't that what a boyfriend is for?” the officer's tone was reasonable, but also concerned. He hated to see young people like Daniel in such positions. Until he'd become a police officer he'd never thought much about people like the young man in front of him right now. Working this beat had opened his eyes, though, and he'd realized things weren't always as black and white as he'd used to think.

“Roddy has his own problems to deal with right now. I'll get in the way,” Daniel answered, his tone also reasonable. He wasn't complaining, he was simply stating a fact that he'd come to terms with.

“I've seen you two, he would never say that to you,” the officer said with a frown.

“Oh, of course he'd never say it. But, it's true just the same,” Daniel replied. “Besides...this isn't Roddy's fault and he shouldn't have to sweep up the mess.”

“No, but that's what people in relationships do for each other. They're there during the hard times, to help pick you up or just to help keep you afloat,” this time he spoke from experience, remembering the first few years he and his wife were on their own.

Daniel just smiled. They'd had this conversation before and they both knew it wouldn't change Daniel's mind. He understood what Officer L'Marc was saying and he knew the man was right. But, he also felt that in this case there was more than one right answer. This was the path he had to take for himself. He had to do this his way.

“Well, you can't stay here. I'm sorry, but you just can't...” the policeman said with a defeated sigh.

“I'll find somewhere else to be until the park opens again,” the young man said, knowing that this was just L'Marc's job and that he'd let him stay if he could. He collected the money that had been tossed in the guitar case, put it in his pocket and then put his guitar in the case, closed it and latched it, and picked it up.

The next day it was more of the same except that Roddy stopped by in the morning before work, and again during his lunch break. They got into an argument over Daniel's stubbornness but ultimately they shared a long hug and gentle kiss before parting. The anger wasn't malicious, it was just due to a fundamental disagreement on how to handle the entire situation Daniel had found himself in.

That evening, however, when there were still a few people milling around and it was still half an hour before Officer L'Marc would show up to have the same discussion all over again, someone else came up to Daniel. An older man, perhaps in his mid-to-late fifties but still with a full head of salt-and-pepper hair. He was dressed in recently laundered clothes, just a long-sleeved shirt and jeans but neat.

Daniel stopped playing when they made eye contact with each other, but did not yet put the guitar down. Instead, he just looked at the older man, clearly not intending to be the first to speak though the look on his face was hopeful and inviting with perhaps a bit of wariness somewhere behind the eyes.

“Danny...” the older man said, looking at the younger man with the blue eyes they shared.

The young man said nothing, but gave a slight nod to acknowledge that he had heard and was still listening. In truth he didn't know what to say, but he also felt that there was no reason to need to know what to say. This was not his time to talk.

“You aren't gonna make this easy, are you?” the older man said, sighing uncomfortably. Despite the words, his tone was not angry or annoyed. He understood as well as Daniel did...there was no reason for Daniel to make this easy on him. He didn't deserve that.

“Your mother misses you and wishes you'd come home,” the older man said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other like a nervous teenager. He knew that was what it looked like, too, and he hated having to put himself in this position. But, he knew that something had to give and after three months of reflection and arguments with his wife he understood that he was the one that had to give. He was the one that was unreasonable, cruel and selfish. He was the one that chased Daniel away and he was the one that had to make it right.

“I miss her, too,” was the first and only thing so far that Daniel had said. He was still waiting. After all that had happened and all that the family, and Daniel specifically, had been through...there was still more for the older man to say before things would begin to start on the path of “all right” again.

“And...I'd like for you to come home, too,” the older man ran a hand through his still-thick hair.

“You would?” Daniel asked, raising one ginger eyebrow, a genetic gift from his mother's side.

“Of course I would. I...didn't understand what I was talking about. Your mother helped me to understand that...what I did was wrong,” all of his life, he'd thought homosexuality was just a choice and he'd thought that his son was being rebellious. He'd hoped that throwing him out would knock some sense him to him, that he'd stop it and return but it didn't happen. His wife had been understandably upset and together, in between the fighting with each other over his self-righteous actions, they'd looked up information. For a while, he'd continued to stay stubborn but when his wife had threatened to leave he had realized that at this point his stubbornness was going to cost him his family, his entire family, everything he'd worked so hard for and everyone he'd ever truly loved.

“Yes, it was,” Daniel replied, but there was still something he was waiting for.

“Please, Danny. I don't want to see you out here like this, and neither does your mother. We love you. I love you. You're still my son. I'm not going to pretend I understand everything yet, but I'm willing to try,” the blue eyes met each other again and Daniel smiled again, this time wider and he carefully put his guitar aside, leaving it propped by the fountain, and got up to hug his father.

“It's a start, Dad. A really good start,” Daniel knew that what was broken between them wasn't going to be fixed so easily, they both knew that. But, as long as everyone was willing to try then that was all that he felt he could ask. He hoped that with time things could be right between them again. After all, they were family.

As the two walked away, Daniel with his guitar case slung over his shoulder, and his father with his hand lightly touching his son's shoulder, a figure stepped out from behind a statue. L'Marc had been there for the last five minutes of the conversation but he hadn't wanted to interrupt by drawing attention to himself. He was certainly glad with the way things seemed to have turned out.

“It's about damn time,” he murmured, before continuing on his way.