June 29, 2005 — Powdered bleach

I was walking home from the grocery store a bit before midnight when I saw a group of teenagers beating a homeless man.

I didn’t understand what I was seeing at first, and when I realized what it was, I hesitated. It was just for a second, that second when it occurred to me I had no chance of stopping them if they really had their hearts set on what they were doing. But I started walking faster towards them anyway, trying to figure out what my plan was (and realizing that approaching them at all was not a sensible start).

I was closer and still not sure what to do when one started kicking the man in the head. I yelled, “Hey!” without thinking.

They looked at me. I kept moving towards them, trying not to give myself away as I realized how many of them there were.

They scattered. I was shocked.

The man used a cardboard box they’d thrown at him to help himself up. I wanted to help him up, but I was already anxious, and the part of me obsessed with washing my hands dozens of times a day wouldn’t allow it. This isn’t something I feel very good about. In my defence, I was also eyeing the corner I’d seen his attackers run behind and hoping they’d stay behind it.

“They sure beat the shit out of me,” he told me. He shook my hand and said thanks.

Then the kid who’d kicked him in the head came out from around the corner. I don’t think he noticed me at first; we were in shadows, and I was wearing dark clothes. He threw something at us. The homeless man hid behind me. I think it was just dirt. It hit me in the stomach, but I didn’t look down. I looked at the kid. He was taller and larger than me, not that it takes much. He yelled that we were lucky he’d missed with whatever he’d thrown.

I should maybe pause here to mention that on the rare occasion I stand up straight, I’m about 5′8″, and on a good day while fully dressed and wearing shoes I weigh around 125 pounds. Of the three teenagers who’d now made their way out from behind the corner, all looked to be taller and bigger than me. The homeless man standing behind me was bigger than me. I stood my ground.

Reflecting on this now, it was one of the stupider things I’ve done. But when a fourth person from their group turned the corner and all four started towards me, I raised my arms and yelled, “What?”

Even then I knew I was mimicking the sort of call-outs I’d seen acted out in movies by people whose body types could convince the audience that there was something behind the challenge. I wish I could have seen what I looked like doing this. I think the shadows must have saved me. No matter what other ridiculous things I do this summer, I don’t think much can beat that one gesture.

But somehow I convinced three of the four to stop and go back behind the corner. The fourth looked back, saw he was alone and hesitated. Then he yelled to me, “Man, he robbed us. How do you think he’s drunk? He fucking robbed us!”

More kids were coming from around the corner to watch and listen. I counted eight or nine of them in my peripheral vision, looking only at the one speaking to me. I gave a short laugh and rolled my eyes, hoping to get across my doubts as to whether a single inebriated homeless man could get the best of so many kids when any one of them could stop him from doing anything he might try.

My laugh seemed to stop the one closest to me, the one who’d been talking, but the rest of them were edging their way towards us again. I whispered to the homeless man, “We’re going to walk away now. I’ll take you to Queen St., and you can take a bus.” It was as much a plan as I’d had so far.

I didn’t look back after that. They yelled things, told us to stay the fuck out of their park (which is unfortunate since it’s right beside my house), but they didn’t follow. I walked him to Queen St., gave him a bus ticket and asked him if he’d be alright. He wasn’t visibly injured and said he didn’t want me to call the police. He shook my hand and thanked me again. I walked home.

My arms were shaking a bit as I opened the door to my basement. Inside, I washed my hands several times in water warm enough that my hands are still throbbing from it. Then I realized I was suddenly very hungry and ate three bowls of cereal.

Fucking kids.