Promises

           I promised Lee Earle I would visit him where he’s staying. He has described the location to me, but he doesn’t exactly have an address. It took several tries on several different days, but I finally honed it down to three warehouses in the same general area and drove through narrow alleyways searching for loading docks.
           I was determined to find Lee Earle. He’s been my friend since I met him at St. Anthony’s in 2019. He was evicted from that building for allowing homeless people to stay with him, breaking the terms of his lease.
          After that, I found him on the library steps. I asked him, “Why did you do that Lee Earle?”    
          “I just couldn’t leave those people out in the cold. I know what it’s like.”
           “But now you’re back on the street in the cold. What are you going to do?”
          He shrugged. “I’m starting all over again.”
          Starting all over means connecting with social services, getting assigned to a caseworker, making sure you have all your documents in hand, showing up for every meeting or answering every call. It’s a long process that takes even longer when a person is wavering. Lee Earle is wavering.
           Last winter, I was able to reconnect with Lee Earle, and now I see him every week at the St. Ben’s meal program. When he shows up. When he doesn’t show up, I worry.
          So finally, today I found the loading dock in a covered passage flanked by two huge buildings.
 I park my car below a sign declaring that I am on private property, and violators will be towed and ticketed, and walk back in. The space is a square tunnel with openings on both ends, not even enough room for a semi to fit, but it would have accommodated trucks of a much earlier era.
            I step inside. Thick concrete wall rise taller than me, perhaps eight feet above ground level. The gravel underfoot is not exactly clear of litter but it seems they’re piling most of the discarded stuff up in one place—old clothes, empty bottles, other things I don’t take the time to study.
Right by the entrance, I spot two blue plastic bins, one marked water, the other, recycle. There are actually full bottles in one and empties in the other. I wonder who is bringing them water.
          Lee Earle has told me that his friend Jeff, who I know, and one other man stays with him. I’ve never met that man, but Lee Earle says he’s shy and would never hurt me.
          As expected, I spot three piles of belongings. One is empty, so I know Jeff has gone to work. The other two contain humans, one in a black sleeping bag, and one wrapped in a sheet like a shroud, which makes me walk back out into the sunshine. I’m not that crazy; I have no idea who’s in that sheet.
          I cup my hands and yell, “Lee Earle!” No response. I try again. Nothing.
          Suddenly, a huge SUV pulls beside me. The driver, a white woman, gives me a what the hell? face. She rolls down her window, leans one arm against the opening, but doesn’t say a word.
          I tell her, “I’m looking for a friend,” which earns me a second what the hell? face.
          I smile, step closer to the vehicle and ask “Are you the owner of this building?”
          She takes off her sunglasses and looks me over.
          I gesture toward the tunnel and casually remark, “I’ve been trying to find my friend, and I think this is the place.” As though to prove my point, I turn to face the opening, cup my hands again and yell, “Lee Earle!”
          A voice I recognize calls out, “What?”
          “It’s Jonnie. Get up.” The sleeping bag starts wiggling.
          I turn back to the woman. “He’s probably putting his pants on.”
          Facing the tunnel again, I holler, “Hurry up!”
          The sleeping bag is now standing. “I’m coming! Give me a minute.”
           “Hurry up!” I repeat.
          I give her credit. Now she seems to be taking all this in stride.
          I introduce myself and ask, “What’s your name?”
          “Ann.” She inclines her head toward the loading docks. “I wouldn’t mind them staying here except for the trash.”
          I ask, “Do you have a minute? If I introduce you to Lee Earle, it will have more of an impact. I want to talk to him about the trash situation.”
          She glances at a large, gem-encrusted watch on her wrist.
          I say, “Lee Earle is the kind of person who will do what you ask. All you have to do is get him to make a promise. If you don’t mind waiting, I’ll talk about the trash with you here. He’ll most likely follow through. Lee Earle tends to keep his promises.”
          I completely understand her skeptical face.
          I call out, “Lee Earle, by the time you get out here, it’ll be Christmas.”
          “Dang, Jonnie. I’m coming. Just wait, just wait.” By this time, he’s on his feet, slipping into his sneakers. He gingerly uses the trash piled in the corner like a rickety staircase to climb down from the dock. He takes a water bottle from the bin, opens it, tosses the cap into the recycling.
          I ask Ann, “Do you leave the water for them?”
          She half smiles. “One of the renters does.”
          Lee Earle limps across the gravel driveway, holds his arms out wide for a hug, which I return.
          “I knew you’d find me Jonnie! You promised, and you keep your promises.” He looks past me at Ann in her SUV.  “Me and Jonnie go way back. She’s my sister.”                                                
​          Lee Earle tells people this all the time. When he introduces me to anybody, he says, “She’s my sister,” and pulls me close. We tilt our heads together and he grins, saying, “Can’t you see the family resemblance?” Which is funny since I am a blue-eyed blond, as white as a person can be, and Lee Earle is a Black man with sparkling eyes, dimples, and dark freckles. He’s missing a lot of teeth, and the ones he still has are rotting. He smiles a lot, and laughs often. For a person living on a loading dock, he maintains a cheery disposition, and a deep faith in God. Every conversation I’ve ever had with him also includes his love for his Mama, and all the things she taught him.
          I tease, “Well, now I can say I’ve seen you in your pajamas.”
          He gazes down at his tee shirt, baggy shorts that hang well past his knees, and sneakers. He smooths down his ensemble. “Don’t I look presentable?”
          “Your mama would be proud.”
          He laughs.
          I gesture toward the SUV. “This is Ann. She owns this building.”
          He nods politely. “Nice to meet you.”
          “Ann says she wouldn’t mind you staying here if you pick up the trash. If I get you some garbage bags and gloves, can you do that?”
          He takes on an earnest expression, one hand on his chest. “It’ll take some time, but yeah, I can do that.”
          Ann says, “And what about those parties on the weekends? I’m gonna have to call the cops if that keeps up.”
          Lee Earle winces. “I know. Those guys just pull up in their trucks blasting music and carryin’ on.”
          I ask him, “Do you know them?”
          He shakes his head. “Nuh-uh. I don’t truck with them. I stay out of it.” I believe part of this story. I’m pretty sure he’d join the party every time it drove into town.
          She glances between me and Lee Earle a few times. We are an odd pair of friends, he and I.  “Well, you can stay here if you clean up the trash and stop the parties. Otherwise, I’ve got to kick you out.”
          Lee Earle salutes. “Yes, ma’am. I promise.”
          Ann starts up the SUV and says that she’s got to get to work. Even though she’s quite serious about the rules she’s laid out—after all, it is her property—she’s kind to us, like a landlord who will tolerate odd tenants as long as they don’t cause too much trouble. Not many people would do that. As she pulls away, Lee Earles waves goodbye.
          Lee Earle slaps his legs and grins. “I knew you’d find me! I just knew it.”
          “Well, I promised. It wasn’t easy, but I finally found you.”
          “I told you over and over exactly where it was.” He points at a mural that was supposed to be a site marker to help me, like some kind of google pin. “You see that?”
          “I saw it, but holy cow! There’s a dozen loading docks around here.”
          He gives me a what’s so hard about that? face.
          “Are you hungry?”
          He pats his skinny belly. Last time I ate was two days ago at St. Ben’s.”
          “I’ll buy you lunch.”
          He’s never been in my car before, but I trust him. “What kind of food do you want?”
          “There’s a MacDonald’s near here.”
          So that’s where we go. He heads into the bathroom.
          The cashier gives me a cheery greeting. I tell her I need a minute, that I’m waiting for a friend. I’m staring up at the menu, shocked by the calorie counts listed by each meal when Lee Earle returns. The woman behind the counter loses her smile and eyes us suspiciously. I notice two men who are obviously homeless sitting at tables, and given its location, the staff here would definitely have to deal with homeless people often. No loitering signs abound. Lee Earle is clean and polite, but perhaps she’s had to deal with him when he wasn’t.
          Once we place our orders, Lee Earle proudly shows me around the place. “Here’s the ketchup, over here are the straws. Do you need some cream for your coffee?” He grabs a handful of creamers, invites me to take a seat and sets some napkins on the table. When our number is called, he jumps up. “I’ll get it.”
          He returns, then proceeds to set the table, so to speak, arranging the food containers just so on our trays. He pauses, like always, to pray silently for at least a full minute, then looks up.
          “One thing I have is manners. My mama taught me that. The other thing she taught me was to always be grateful to God. She said if I wake up in the morning with a smile on my face, I’ll have a good day all day. You sure put a smile on my face this morning Jonnie!”
          As we eat, I start asking about his next steps, how he plans to get off that loading dock and into housing before winter.
          “I’ve just got to get my life together, get a few things taken care of. I need to get all my documents. It’s a lot to do.”
          “You need to get in contact with your social worker.”
          He goes silent, eats some French fries while staring at his tray.
         “Do you still have her contact information?”
          Never looking up from his tray he nods and says, “I could go see her on Monday.” 
          “I don’t want to see you at the night shelter next winter,” I tell him. “I want to visit you in your apartment.”
          He grins. “Well, I guess I’ll have to keep it clean, then.”
          Back in the car, I ask him where he’d like me to drop him off.
          “At the library. But I wonder if you could help me with something. I need some earbuds, the kind that you plug into a computer, so I can watch movies. You can get real cheap ones at Family Dollar.”
          I don’t mind taking care of this. We head to the closest Family Dollar. It’s out of business.
          “People be stealin’, that’s the problem. Stupid.”
          There’s another store not far away. We find what he needs. He thanks me about ten times. “I owe you, Jonnie. I really do.”
          “You don’t owe me anything. But I would like you to make a promise.”
          “What?” He’s smiling like there’s no tomorrow.
          “I want you to promise me that you’ll go see your social worker.”
          The smile drops. “I promise.”
          “Look me in the eye and say, “I promise to go see my social worker on Monday.”
          He looks me in the eye. “I promise to go see my social worker on Monday,” He puts his hand out for a fist bump.
          I head into the library with him. Like a heat seeking missile, I scope out the tables and computer carrels, looking for anybody I know while Lee Earle gleefully checks out a movie. By the time I get back to him, he’s plugging in his earbuds. “I’m gonna watch five movies today!”  
          I give him a hug. “Have a great time.”
          “I have a felony.”
          Just like that. This is news to me, coming straight out of nowhere. “Is that why you don’t want to see your social worker?”
          “That’s why.” Tears well in his eyes. “I’m scared they’ll report me if I show up.”
          A hot wave of fear and guilt floods through me. “Oh my God! I don’t want you to go to jail.”
          Tears stream down his cheeks. “But I promised you I would go. So, I’m gonna go.”
          My gut tightens, and I’m crying, too. I’ve asked too much of him.
          He wipes at his face, but the tears keep falling. “My daughter’s been telling me it’s time to get it over with.”
          I lean against the carrel. I don’t want to know what the felony is for; I never ask anyone about this. I only see this person, my friend, in front of me right now. We gaze at each other for a few seconds.
          Lee Earle rubs his palms eagerly, eyes sparkling. “But right now, I’m gonna watch me some movies!”