State of Mind, page 1
Copyright information
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
State of Mind
Copyright © 2019 by K.C. Wells
Cover Design by Meredith Russell
Cover content is being used for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.
The trademarked products mentioned in this book are the property of their respective owners, and are recognized as such.
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Epilogue
Have you seen….
Other titles
Bio
Chapter One
Wayne Drayton came up the stairs from the Castro Street station, emerging into the early evening sunlight. It was the kind of evening that made him reluctant to go home. He began his usual stroll down Castro Street, making decisions on how he was going to spend his evening. As he passed Bar 440, he toyed with the idea of going for a drink later. It was pretty much a foregone conclusion that he wouldn’t. He usually left his drinking until the weekend.
Then there was the matter of dinner. Would it be at the Cove, Harvey’s, the Sausage Factory, or more realistically, something from his freezer? Right then he wasn’t sure what he was in the mood for.
As he neared the intersection with 18th Street, his heart sank at the habitual sight. Beggars lined both sides of the street, sitting in doorways, or at the edge of the sidewalk, their clothes shabby, their belongings stuffed into bags beside them. And as usual, Wayne tried not to catch their eye. It wasn’t that he didn’t care. On the contrary, sometimes he was overwhelmed by the crisis. And that was the problem. The homeless crisis often felt too big, too overwhelming, and he failed to see how one single person could make a difference. What hurt him was the number of times he’d seen passers-by scoff—or even worse, shame—the people fending for themselves on city sidewalks. There was no reason for that. There but for the grace of God…
There was also the small matter of having seen altercations in the past. He knew some of the beggars in San Francisco suffered from mental health issues. He’d seen that for himself. How many times had he noted a beggar carrying on a vigorous conversation with himself, or shouting at a passer-by?
At the intersection outside Walgreens, he saw a couple of guys gathered by the traffic lights. He felt their eyes on him as he approached. Except for one guy. He glanced in Wayne’s direction, then hurriedly looked away. Wayne was surprised enough to notice the atypical behavior. And the closer Wayne got, the more the guy averted his gaze, until he was looking in the opposite direction.
Wayne was intrigued. He took out his wallet and removed a five-dollar bill. He held it out to the guy, who ignored him.
A beggar that doesn’t want money?
Wayne held it out again. “Here,” he said quietly. He tried not to wrinkle his nose at the funky smell that originated from the guy’s clothing.
Finally, the guy turned his head to look at him, and Wayne froze. “Mr. Everett?” The resemblance was uncanny.
“You’ve got the wrong man.”
The guy’s voice was husky, but it didn’t matter. Wayne knew that voice. Damn it, that voice had been important to him. He crouched down in front of the man, taking in his head covered by the blue hood, the dark blanket thrown over his head and shoulders, the way he sat cross-legged, his sneakers scuffed and dirty, and the two fat shopping bags next to him.
“Mr. Everett, I know it’s you. But… What happened?” It had to be fourteen years since Wayne had last seen him, and the contrast was shocking.
Mr. Everett looked him in the eye. “I remember you. Wayne. That right, isn’t it? Well, Wayne, you wanna know what happened? Shit. Shit happened, just like it always does, only sometimes it doesn’t wipe off.” He took the proffered bill, and tucked it inside his clothing. “Thank you. Now please go away.”
There was no way Wayne was going to leave him there. “Please, Mr. Everett, I—”
“For God’s sake, call me Cole. I’m not your goddamn teacher anymore, alright? Now please, just leave me alone.”
“Come home with me,” Wayne blurted out. Cole regarded him with an incredulous stare, but Wayne wasn’t about to give up. “I mean it. I live just around the corner. There’s a bath, shower, clean clothes, and food.”
Cole’s stomach chose that moment to rumble, and a look of shame crossed his face.
Wayne leaned in, conscious of how Cole pulled away from him. “Please. I’m not doing this out of pity. You… You were important to me. More than you could ever know.”
“Then please, remember me like I was back then, and walk away.” Cole turned his face to the wall.
Wayne regarded him with sadness. He couldn’t very well haul the man to his feet and force him to come. There had to be another way.
“I’ll be right back,” he said emphatically. Cole paid no attention. Wayne went into Walgreens and bought a cup of coffee. He added creamer, put a lid on it, and stuffed a handful of sugar packets into his pocket, before leaving the store and heading right back to where—
Cole wasn’t there.
Wayne looked around wildly, and spotted him walking toward 19th Street. “Hey, wait!” he called out. Wayne hurried after him, catching him up as he passed the dog grooming parlor. When Cole ignored him, quickening his pace, Wayne put out his hand and grabbed Cole’s arm. “Please, stop.”
With obvious reluctance, Cole came to a halt. “Let me go.”
“Sure. If you take this.” Wayne held up the cup. Slowly, he removed his hand.
Cole sniffed, and the look that crossed his face only strengthened Wayne’s resolve. “Smells good.”
Wayne reached into the pocket of his pants where he’d stashed the sugar. “Here. Take as many as you want.” To his joy, Cole put down his bags and took the cup, removing the lid and dumping a couple of packets of sugar into the dark brown, steaming liquid. He replaced the lid.
“Thank you. The price of a coffee these days means it’s a pleasure I have to forgo. I only get coffee when I go someplace for breakfast.” He sniffed again. “That does smell good.”
Wayne nodded. “And when you’ve finished that, I’m going to cross the street and buy you a burger and fries, and stand here until you eat it.”
Cole arched his eyebrows. “I’m not gonna get rid of you, am I?”
Wayne grinned. “Now you’re getting it. Of course, you could make things a whole lot easier and just accept my invitation.”
Cole studied him in silence, before sighing. “Anything for a quiet life. But a bath and food, then I go, alright?”
“Sure. Whatever you say.” Wayne was dancing inside that he’d gotten this far. He reached for one of the two bags, but Cole stopped him.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“You’re holding a coffee. So unless you’ve got a third arm you’re hiding under there, I’m going to carry one of your bags.” He cocked his head to one side. “Does it feel like ‘can I carry your books, sir?’”
Cole’s face darkened. “I’m not your teacher anymore.”
“But you were,” Wayne reminded him. “And a damn good one. I don’t have a clue what happened to you, and you don’t have to tell me. But I’m hoping you’ll trust me.”
The first flicker of a smile crossed Cole’s face. “You always were a good kid. Not that you’re a kid anymore. Quite the man, in fact.” He picked up the remaining bag. “Lead the way.”
Wayne led him back to the intersection. They waited for the lights to change, then crossed the street, heading for 18th Street. As they passed Midnight Sun, music greeted Wayne’s ears, along with laughter and chat. Happy hour was in full swing. It was the same at Moby Dick, its doors open, the music spilling out into the street, along with its patrons, glasses in their hands.
They turned right onto Noe, where the road got steeper.
“Please don’t tell me you live up there.” Cole pointed to the crest of the hill ahead of them.
Wayne chuckled. “No, we’re not going that far. We’re turning onto Hancock Street.”
As they turned the corner, the smell of jasmine hit him, almost as tangible as a blow. He loved the quiet little street, with its troughs full of flowers and greenery, its bottle brush trees, and the fact that traffic couldn’t be heard. They walked along the street until they reached the low fence with its gate.
“This is me.”
Cole gazed at the house. “Pretty.”
Wayne had to admit he was right. A small courtyard sat in front of the house, with a wooden bench. Behind it, roses covered the wall. A tree stood to the right of the house, its branches providing shade. “I like it.” He opened the gate for Cole, standing to one side to let him enter, then closed it behind them. Once he’d gotten the front door open, they stepp ed into the cool interior.
“The bathroom is upstairs.” Then he reconsidered. “What would you like to do first? Food or get cleaned up?” Standing indoors brought an acute reminder of the odor that clung to Cole’s clothing.
After a moment’s hesitation, Cole said quietly, “a shower would be good.”
Wayne led him up the stairs to the bathroom, and pushed open the door for him. “Let me get you a towel.” He reached into the linen closet next to the bathroom, and removed the fluffiest towel he could find. Then he stepped past Cole into the bathroom, bending down to reach into the cabinet to find a new bar of soap, a new toothbrush, and a clean washcloth. He placed these on the worktop. “Is there anything else you need?”
Cole glanced at the items. “Do you have a razor?”
Wayne thought for a moment. “I use an electric shaver nowadays, but I think…” He went back to the cabinet and searched through the baskets he kept under there. “Aha.” He pulled out a bag of disposable razors. “I thought these were under there someplace. Do you need shaving foam too?” He placed the can of cool gel next to the razor.
“Thank you. That’s perfect.”
“Take as long as you like.” Then he left Cole in the bathroom and closed the door. He paused there for a moment, and what struck him was an odd thought.
I hope he doesn’t shave off his beard. It suited him.
It wasn’t long before he caught the sound of running water. Wayne went into his bedroom, and opened the closet. They weren’t that dissimilar in size, so he figured his clothes would fit. Besides, he didn’t want Cole to put on the clothes he’d just removed. He pulled out a clean pair of sweats and a soft white T-shirt from a pile of clothing. Then he went to his underwear drawer and found a pair of boxers. He folded the clothes neatly and placed them on the floor outside the bathroom, before tapping on the door.
“When you’re done,” he called out, “there are clean clothes out here. They should fit you. Come on down when you’re ready.”
A moment later he caught Cole’s reply. “Okay.”
Wayne went downstairs and into the kitchen. One look inside the refrigerator decided him on the menu, and he pulled out Italian sausage, peppers, zucchini, eggplant, and cheese. Then he went into a cabinet and removed onions and garlic. When everything was chopped, he heated up olive oil in the pan, and started with the onions and garlic. Soon, everything was simmering, swimming in tomatoes and red wine, with a dash of herbs. He got out the pasta, and filled a pan with water.
“Something smells good.” Cole stood in the doorway, and Wayne caught his breath. Cole’s head was shaved, but his beard was still in evidence, a rich dark brown color that contrasted with his creamy complexion. He had lost weight since the last time Wayne had seen him, but that was to be expected. What surprised him was the impact of seeing Cole again.
He looks just as good as I remember.
“You didn’t have to do this,” Cole said, gesturing to his clothing. “I do have clothes, you know.”
Wayne shrugged. “I wasn’t sure of how often you got the chance to do laundry.”
Cole huffed. “Not as often as I’d like.” He sat at the small table. “You have a nice place here.”
“Thank you.” Wayne picked up a bottle of red wine. “Would you like a glass?” To his surprise, Cole laughed. “Have I said something funny?”
Cole shook his head. “This feels so… unreal. I can’t tell you the last time I did this. You know, something as… normal as sit down to a meal, with a glass of wine. It feels like a lifetime ago.”
Wayne stirred the pan’s contents. “How long have you been on the streets? And what happened to put you there?” He imagined it had to be something pretty catastrophic to leave Cole in his present predicament.
Cole sighed. “I guess I owe you that much.” He pointed to the bottle. “In which case, I will have a glass.”
Wayne removed the corkscrew from the drawer and opened the bottle. He poured out two glasses and placed one in front of Cole. Then he went back to his task, figuring it might be easier for Cole to speak if Wayne wasn’t looking at him.
“I’ve been on the streets for a few years now.”
“Years?” Wayne turned to stare at him.
Cole studied him for a moment. “You’re what… in your early 30s now?” Wayne nodded. “I was about your age the last time I taught you. I’d been there a while, and then I got itchy feet. It was time to move on to greener pastures.” He gave a wry smile. “Little did I know, that would be the start of my troubles.”
“Wasn’t it a good job?”
“Oh, it was. It was a Catholic school. A very good one, I might add, and I think I would have been happy there. But events took a different turn.” He took a sip of wine. “This is good. Yet another pleasure I’ve had to forgo.”
The water began to bubble, and Wayne added the pasta to the pan. Once he’d turned down the heat, he took frozen partly baked French bread from the freezer and placed it on a tray in the oven. Then with the heat at its lowest under the saucepan containing the tomato mixture, he joined Cole at the table. “Dinner won’t be long.”
Cole didn’t look at him. He studied his glass intently. “This is hard, you know? I can’t remember the last time I had a conversation like this. And to talk about these things still hurts.”
“You don’t have to tell me,” Wayne said softly. “And you don’t owe me anything. I only want to help if I can.”
“And you have, believe me.” Cole’s earnest expression tugged at Wayne’s heart. “But telling you these things means revealing truths about myself, and I’m not sure how you’ll take that stuff.”
On impulse, Wayne reached across the table and took Cole’s hand in his. “You can tell me anything. I want this to be someplace where you feel safe. I’m not about to judge you. I wish I knew how to convince you of that.”
Cole gazed at their joined hands. “And I can’t tell you the last time a guy did this.” He took another drink from his glass. When he opened his mouth to speak, the buzzer from the oven sounded, and Wayne gave a start.
“Let me just see to that.” He relinquished Cole’s hand, stood and opened the oven. The aroma of freshly baking bread wafted out into the small kitchen. When he closed the oven door and turned back to Cole, he was dismayed to see tears trickling down his cheeks. “Oh my God. What’s wrong?”
Cole wiped his eyes savagely. “Ignore me. I’m just used to being treated as less than human.”
Wayne came to a decision. “How about we eat first, and talk later?”
Cole gave him a weak smile. “That sounds like a good idea.”
Wayne nodded, and went back to his task of preparing dinner. He had so many questions, but this wasn’t the time.
Chapter Two
Cole wiped his lips with his napkin, then placed it on the table beside his empty plate. He gazed at the kitchen. “You seem to have done well for yourself.”
Wayne gave a shrug. “I do all right.”
Cole arched his eyebrows. “Don’t be so self-deprecating. I know what it costs to live in the city, remember? This place, your clothing… You’ve done well.”
Wayne gave another shrug. “I’ve been fortunate. I did well at college, I got a great job that was going places…” He smiled. “I’m happy.” It wasn’t entirely true, of course, but Cole didn’t have to know that.
“I thought you’d be married with kids by now.” He studied Wayne closely. “You are alone, aren’t you?”
Wayne nodded. “I haven’t found the right one yet.” Except the truth was, he hadn’t been looking.
Cole leaned back in his chair. “Your private life is none of my business.” He sipped his coffee. “I thought I’d found the right one. Discovering I was wrong was one of the factors that led me to my present predicament.”
“Tell me about that new job,” Wayne asked him. “Where did it go wrong?”
Cole finished his coffee, then let out a heavy sigh. “It started to go wrong when one of my students saw me in an awkward situation. Not that it was awkward for me, you understand. I was simply going about my business, getting on with my life. But I suppose in the eyes of a young Catholic boy, seeing your teacher walking hand-in-hand with another man was something of a revelation.” He met Wayne’s gaze, his expression watchful.
