Breakfast at a highway Subway,
I meet a homeless man named Darren.
I don’t know he is homeless at first when
he wanders over to me and starts chatting me up.
I think he is a twenty-something labourer,
waiting to be picked up for work. He wears thick,
baggy denim pants, thick rubber farmer’s boots,
several layers of shirts and jackets, covered by a parka,
and a toque. He has a beard and looks normal enough.
Darren: I seen you yesterday walking down the highway. Where ya headed?
Me: Vancouver.
Darren: I’m hitchhiking to Ontario to look for work.
Turns out Darren has been looking for work
in New Brunswick and can’t find any.
From his speech and mannerisms, I suspect
he must struggle to hold onto a job even when he finds one.
He says he quit school in grade 10, and he is vague
about the whereabouts of his family.
“Somewhere up the river from Fredericton”, he says.
In the middle of our chat, which is mostly dead air,
he jumps up and says, “I better go get my bag.”
He walks slowly, dragging his feet, and comes back
carrying a large plastic garbage bag.
Inside is a sleeping bag and an extra jacket.
That, and whatever is in the many pockets of his clothing,
is all he has.
Me: So, you’re sure there’s no work for you in New Brunswick?
Darren: A farmer told me that there might be work in Ontario, so I’m hitchhiking there.
Me: There’s no guaranteed job for you in Ontario, then?
Darren: No.
Me: Ontario is a big province. Do you know whereabouts there might be work in Ontario?
Darren: No.
Me: Do you know specifically where you’re going to hitchhike to in Ontario to start looking?
Darren: No.
Me: What would be a good hitchhiking day for you? If you made it to Edmunston by the end of the day, would you say that’s a success?
Darren: Oh, I should make it well past Edmunston.
There is a long pause in the conversation.
I finish my coffee and start packing things up.
And then Darren surprises me.
Darren: I’ll walk with you until I get a ride.
Me: Really? But I’m walking against the traffic. If you’re hitchhiking, you’ll have to go to the other side of the highway.
Darren: No one will pick me up in the rain.
Me: I appreciate the gesture, Darren, but I walk at a very fast clip. I won’t be able to hold up for you. I’m sorry.
Darren: Ok.
I go to the washroom and when I come out,
Darren is gone. I look out the windows,
but I cannot see where he went.
He wouldn’t take any money,
he wouldn’t let me buy him breakfast
(said he had a bagel in his jacket pocket),
and wouldn’t take the muffin I offered.
Sadly, it seems the only thing he wanted
was the one thing I denied him –
a companion for his journey.
Wherever Darren is right now, I do wish him well.
