He liked to work at night because it not only gave him a job, but a place to stay warm during the long, cold nights. It was easier to find a place that was safe during the day to drink his wine and sleep. When he worked he always hung his coat next to the sink and watched it the whole evening. No one was supposed to be back there, except him, but that was no guarantee that someone wouldnt suddenly rush in and try to grab his coat.
Being alone was another reason he liked washing dishes. It was just him and the dishes, and his coat. Harry always had a difficult time being with people, having left school early because of the daily terror of being with so many people in one room and having to stand and talk when called on. He just spent more time by himself and less and less in school and eventually they left him alone and he drifted away, spending as much time as possible alone, longing always for companionship, never able to talk about his fear, no one, including Harry, understanding why he did what he did.
The nights washing dishes went easy enough. He had his warmth, some food, his solitude, and he would take a drink from time to time, being sure no none saw him take the bottle from his pocket. Survival depended upon keeping certain things secret. And dishwashing jobs were always available. Its not the kind of job guys keep. Some place always needed a dishwasher.
When he finished work he would get breakfast and his money, then buy a bottle of muscatel and find an abandoned building somewhere safe. The rest of the row was waking up and starting their day and he could nestle somewhere and not worry about people stumbling on him. He always went as far back in the deserted buildings as possible. There were gangs that roamed the Bowery who were worse then crazed dogs and you had to be careful you didnt let anyone think you had something they might want. He always put his bottle in the huge pocket of his coat and walked as aimlessly as possible. He didnt know how many men he had seen beaten, and killed, for a coat or a bottle of wine.
You had to be careful on skid row. You had to be your own council… your own friend.
He climbed over the rubble and garbage in an empty lot to an abandoned building and worked his way around battered walls and fallen beams to a distant corner in the shadows and sat, wrapped his coat around him, and opened his bottle. He took a long drink, almost half the bottle, then gulped air for a moment, then let out a long sigh… He looked at the bottle admiringly… affectionately, as he felt the wine warming his gut and flowing through his system… then took another quick drink… then another… then licked his lips as he put the top on the bottle and placed it carefully beside him. He took out his money and rolled it up, except for a dollar, and shoved it through a small hole in a pocket into the lining where it could not be found, then leaned back against the wall, wrapped his coat around him, cradled the bottle on his lap, holding it tightly, closed his eyes and smiled and wiggled as he felt the wine going through his body, feeling nice and warm and sending a glow through him right down to the tips of his toes.
Fantasies used to come with the wine, but somewhere, sometime, they stopped, or maybe they just drifted away. There just did not seem to be any energy available to bring them back and no material for new ones. All hopes, fantasies, dreams, now centered on this one moment of Harry and his bottle nestling safely and warmly in the corner of an abandoned building…
But there were memories that sometimes haunted him… or others that eased their way across his minds eye with gentle waves of pleasure…
He was driving through the Appalachians once when he pulled off the road to watch a sunset. He watched the sun go out of sight, then the changing layers of colors turned from pink to red, from blue to purple, sitting alone, tears rolling from his eyes and down his cheeks as he was overwhelmed by the beauty of the incredible spectacle… sitting there still when there was only a faint hint of blue’gray in the distance as it got darker, and when the moons brightness started to bring light to the valley below and the sky softened into a thick dark velvet, twinkling stars slowly emerged and dotted the darkened sky, he was still there immersed and transfixed by the wonder of it, experiencing its beauty and miracle in some secret place deep within him…
But much time had passed since he was last visited by that memory.
He took another drink, recapped the bottle and looked around… He had everything he needed right now. A bottle… a place to park himself for a while… and his coat… his wonderful, beautiful coat. He kissed the collar, I love you coat, and chuckled. He took another drink and closed his eyes and felt the warmth, then looked at his coat. I can always depend on you. Youre my friend. My really true friend. My buddy. You’ll never let me down, right? And I’ll never let you down. I swear to you -raising his right hand in a solemn oath—I’ll never let you down. Unto the death I’ll never let you down. He lowered his hand and took another drink, then looked at something shining in the darkness. He stared hard, frowning, until he finally made out the form of a huge rat staring at him. A shock of disgust and fear sickened him and he closed his eyes and huddled deeper into his coat, then opened his eyes, but the rat was still there, his eyes looking like two beacons in the dark. He stared at the eyes, swallowing a mounting nausea, then forced himself to pick up a piece of debris and throw it at the rat, the rat quickly disappearing in the dark. He took another drink and relaxed. At least it was real. If it wasnt he couldnt have gotten rid of it so easily. He had had d.t.’s, but he never saw anything like rats. He knew some guys did and he didnt know how they survived imagining that rats were crawling all over them… he shook his head, Arghhh. He opened his bottle and threw the top away, took a long drink, then pulled his coat even tighter around him. He cant bother us, can he? He’d never be able to get me. My buddy would keep him away, wouldntya? Nothin, no one… no one, nothin. Right? Cant bother us. He snuggled deeper into the corner and his coat. He closed his eyes momentarily and listened to the wine singing through his body and smiled, then started singing, Nights are long since—he started giggling and nodding his head—I dream about you all thru—he started laughing -hehehehehehe—thru -hehehehehe—ishh… ishh… my Buddy… my Buddy—he started waving his hand in a small arc conducting himself—Watch the bounding ball—all through the -hehehehehehe… ishh… Nobody—hahaha—Nobod—ishhh -Bod—hahaha… he gulped and swallowed hard and shook his head—Nobody hehe—ishh… he took another drink, his off-key singing continuing in his head, a few mumbling words coming from his mouth, nobody but a buddy, hehehehe… continuing to stammer and giggle and nod his head, then emptied the bottle and tossed it as far away as possible, deep into the shadows of the rubble and listened to the tinkle of broken glass reverberate through his snug nest like the tinkling of sleigh bells as his head slowly lowered, his chin eventually resting on the lapel of his great coat, and drifting into sleep.
He moved, jerked spastically and mumbled as he was slowly dragged back to consciousness. It was much darker in the building but he was long accustomed to waking up about this same time so he knew it must be late afternoon. He got to his feet and brushed off his coat then slowly, and carefully, made his way past and through the shattered walls out of the building.
The shadows were long as he picked his way through the rubble of the lot, slipping and stumbling, rats squealing and skittering off as he staggered and inched his way to the street.
The traffic was heavy this time of the evening and Harry huddled in his coat as he walked along the street, the people fulfilling his need for human companionship without being a threat. He had spent many, many years alone, and lonely, but they had not eliminated his need, and occasional desire, to be with people. As long as he was free to just be there on the street without having to be a part of them, he was alright.