Out of Formation

A story about a guy named Flint and his inspiration from a homeless man he finds.

The room had boxes and wadded up newspapers scattered throughout the floor. No light was shining through the window, for dawn had not yet shown its face to the planet. A constant grating, screeching beep persisted, indicating it was time for someone to start their day, most likely to get ready for a day of work. In the middle of the room was a double-sized bed, and a man suddenly sprang into an upright position, hearing the sound. He got up from his bed and hobbled to the other end of the room, where he knocked with great force upon the wall.
“Get up! Some people are trying to sleep at this ungodly hour!” Flint yelled.
A muffled apology came from beyond the wall, and the man went slowly back to his bed. “Neighbors,” he muttered and lay back down.
An hour later it seemed he hadn’t slept at all, but he continued to lie in bed. The first rays of sunshine started to enter the room, and he stared at the mess that was before him. He reached for his face, which reminded him of sandpaper. Since the alarm had ruined his sleep, he decided to get up and get something done. 
He walked into his bathroom. It was quite small, containing only the necessities. The walls were a dull grey-green, and the floor had tiles that had a painting of the country, placed at day and night. It came with the apartment, so he saw no reason to change it. He opened the cabinet door and took out his electric shaver, which was a gift from his brother at Christmas the year before. Turning it on, he slowly shaved his think beard, first going in one direction, then moving in circles to get any missed hair. He never liked the electric shaver, but he did like the lack of cuts it gave him. When getting close to his mouth, he noticed small pieces of hair were getting onto his tongue. Looking down, he saw little pieces shoot out as the motor spinned. He quickly turned it off and decided it needed to be cleaned. 
Taking the head of the electric razor off, he saw the blades packed with short and long hairs. He blew lightly into it, and then ran the parts under the faucet. Putting it back together, he plugged it back in and turned it on. A high screeching noise rang from the razor, and he quickly turned it off. He grunted and opened the medicine cabinet to put it back in. Aspirins, cold pills, and expired prescription painkillers were all lined up, staring at him. Standing there momentarily, he slammed it shut, took the electric shaver with him and headed out the door.
Bundled in a heavy coat, he headed outside his apartment complex toward his tan Gremlin. On his way a short, balding neighbor of his stopped him.
“Flint! Where are you off to today?” he greeted. 
Flint paused at his Gremlin with his key in the car door. Steam was coming from his mouth due to the freezing weather. “I’m going to run some errands. That is, if you’ll allow me to,” he replied.
“Of course, of course. I just thought maybe you were off to,” he paused,” Just thought…”
“Thought what?” Flint demanded.
“Don’t take any offense. Just, if you don’t get the newspaper, I could let you borrow the classifieds. It would really be no trouble, and it would help you get back on your feet.”
Flint looked down at his shoes. “I am standing on my own two feet, thank you. If I needed help, I would ask for a crutch. Now thank you,” he said, getting into the car and slamming the door. He watched the man walk away and back into the apartment complex, scowling until he was completely out of view. 
Returning back to his matters, he stuck his key into the ignition to start the car. It sputtered back, struggling to start itself. After having no luck, he got out and kicked the door shut with rage. 
“I will just have to walk today.” He buttoned his coat and put on his hood.
Flint began walking down the sidewalk through a part of town that had not changed in ages. Past these few streets, the world had modernized with fancier buildings, fast food restaurants and poverty. But where he lived there were diners, a drugstore, a barber shop, and the Eastwood Theatre. The Eastwood Theatre, years ago, showed the best movies. Time had made its one theatre useless when compared to the theatres downtown that held ten movies. In all reality, things had changed for the area. It only declined.
He saw the pawnshop a few buildings down when Laurence the barber saw Flint while sweeping the front of his shop. Laurence had cut Flint’s hair since he was a boy. He was graying and grizzly now, but was still dedicated to his job. 
“Flint, my boy! Have you come for a cut? It has been a while, and I see you have grown shaggy,” Laurence said, slightly hunched over.
“I’m sorry. I’ve been broke. These have been hard times. I’m considering just shaving my head to save another expense.”
“Are you still without work? You know you can always be my assistant. I couldn’t pay much, but just until you get another job…”
“Laurence, you are a good man. But you know as well as I do that you can’t afford that.”
Tears started to form in Laurence’s eyes, and he nodded his head. Flint hugged him tightly, and then walked into the pawnshop.
As he closed the door, the bell on it made him jump. The instant musty smell made him feel right at home, like his garage where he used to live. The shop, like his garage, was filled with tools of all sorts. But unlike his garage, there were also old electronics like a Commodore 64 and electric typewriters. He came upon some old guitars and picked one up. He didn’t know how to play in the slightest, but enjoyed messing with it anyway. A few sour notes came out of the obviously out-of-tune instrument, and another customer looked at him oddly. He slowly put it down.
A Pakistani man was running the register when Flint approached him.
“How much will you pay me for this?” he said, putting the electric razor on the counter.
“Does it work?” the attendant asked in his think accent.
“Of course. It is nearly new. My brother gave it to me just last Christmas.”
The man looked at Flint very carefully and asked, “Then why is it you are but half shaven?”
He stroked the stubble on his chin and explained the noise.
“Hmm… I will give you five dollars,” the man said.
He happily took the offer, glad to rid him of the electric razor. Heading out the door, the Pakistani man called out, “Thank you sir,” and bowed. Flint nodded back.
Walking out the door, a gust of wind struck his face. He quickly put his hood back on and tried to face away from the wind. He saw people huddled by the side of the street and in alleys, looking sad and hopeless. He averted his eyes from them, trying not to make eye contact. A tree in the sidewalk was almost in his way, but he quickly dodged it. Flint has always thought they looked too fake in that state. A place neatly made for the tree to co-exist with the concrete that surrounded it. The shadows of the building prevented sunlight from sharing its warmth.
He came upon the parking lot of the town’s grocery store, cars pulling in and out. Teenagers brought in the carts in from the cold so they could be reused. His first job had been there when he turned sixteen, but he was fired after denting someone’s van with a cart. But that had been so many years ago. He’d lived another full life since then. Coming upon the entrance, a homeless man approached him with his arms outstretched.
“Please help me. I’m…I’m hungry,” he said in a slightly raspy voice. He grabbed Flint’s shoulders and looked him in the eyes with his worn face and dark grey, shoulder length hair flowing from underneath a hat. The smell of rotten garbage filled the air. Flint became terrified and pushed him away.
“I’m sorry,” the homeless man apologized. “You don’t have to give me anything.”
Flint shied away, unable to speak. He turned away and went through the motion-detecting door. Once inside, he shuddered and went to find some groceries. He grabbed a cart, which was very wobbly and made a clicking sound as it wheeled through the aisles. Many familiar faces littered the store, but he really didn’t know any of them. Old ladies who wheeled themselves around in scooters, single men, mothers with screeching children, and all other kinds of people could be seen at the store.
Stopping in the produce aisle, he looked at all the different kinds of fruit. A woman with a long purple dress and short, curly hair was sifting through the cantaloupes, trying to find a fresh one. She held them up to her face and knocked on them, listening to the sound it gave off. Flint picked up a random piece of fruit and did the same. 
“You’re doing that wrong,” the woman said, chuckling.
He looked down at his fruit, puzzled and curious. “Well, how do I do it then?”
“You knock on melons, and if they give off a good hollow sound, then you have a good one. What you have is a mango.”
“Oh.”
She took the green and red mango from his hand and demonstrated. “What you want is a fruit that is slightly soft, but not too soft.”
“There are many weird ways to find good fruit,” Flint replied.
“You haven’t seen the worst. One of my friends from the church licks the green beans to make sure they’re top quality. But after she’s licked the, they’re hers anyway, aren’t they?”
Flint and the woman laughed at her comments, and then departed in separate directions. The smile left his face when he remembered what he was doing. Blankly, he walked around the store, buying some bread, apples, and peanut butter. 
The wind instantly picked up when he walked out the door. He held himself, trying to block the wind, but its cold fingers crept into his jacket and reddened his cheeks, nose and ears. Nearby, the man who approached him before he entered the grocery store was sitting near the wall, huddled up in a fetal position. When a homeless man is cold, no one should be outside. Flint approached him and tapped his dirty black coat on the shoulder. When he didn’t respond, he tapped again. This time he looked up.
“I want to get you out of the cold. Please, come with me,” Flint said. After a few moments, the homeless man agreed and slowly stumbled to his feet. Flint wrapped an arm around him and walked across the street where there were some restaurants. He asked the man if he would like to get something to eat. 
“How about here?” The man hoarsely said, pointing to the local Chinese restaurant, Happy Wok. 
“Anything you want,” Flint replied, leading him inside.
The bells on the door chimed as they went in. The interior was much larger than he expected and had designs on the wall of fans and Asian women with their hair tied up with sticks coming out. The waiter approached the two slowly, probably wondering about the appearance of the two that had just entered. One of them was clearly homeless and smelled, and the other one looked like he could have been homeless as well.
“Greetings, and thank you for coming to Happy Wok!” the waiter said in a surprising American accent.
“Yes. Nonsmoking for two,” Flint replied, holding up his hand to show how many they were.
The waiter took them to the dining area, which had aquariums of tropical fish of all colors swimming about. He almost sat them near the window, but the homeless man asked to be sat next to the fish, so they were led there. Looking at the menus, Flint saw the prices were fairly steep on the meat dishes, while the vegetarian menu had prices he could bear to spend. The waiter came back and asked for their orders. 
The homeless man said, “I will have-“
“We will have two of the Tofu with Vegetables,” Flint interrupted.
The old homeless man gave him a glare. The waiter went to get their food, and Flint looked around at the different types of fish. The water in the aquarium looked much dirtier up close. Specks of dust and grime floated around everywhere, though the beauty of the fish shined through. An orange fish with blue spots darted around the others. He was very small and agile. One of them was almost box-shaped, a light yellow color, and had antennae coming from its head. Some of them constantly opened and closed their mouths, but this one always had its mouth in the closed position, as if ready to give you a kiss if you let it.
Flint glanced over to the homeless man, who was also watching the fish. His eyes were childlike in joy. His head moved along with a small purple and white fish that swam quickly through the aquarium. Seeing this, Flint started to wonder about this man. If it was merely not having a job, he was in trouble of ending up like him.
“What’s your name?” He asked him.
The ragged man zipped out of his trance, taking a few moments to ponder the question. “My name is Payton,” he answered. “And what may I ask is yours?”
“I’m Flint.”
“The name fits you,” Payton said, returning to the fish.
“I’m just curious,” Flint said, “How someone ends up like you. I can’t help but wonder who you once were, what you may have been… Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be silly, I’d be happy to tell you. I was a writer that should have made it rich. I wrote many great novels, but was unfortunately very low on money and sold them all for food. All of the best-sellers success can be thanked directly to me! Stephen King couldn’t write for the life of him!”
“I see.”
Flint didn’t believe the man at all, and was happy when the food came so he could change the subject. Their dinner had small bricks of tofu with small vegetables on the side. Flint began watching what Payton ate, and found him much more accepting of tofu than he thought he might be. It had a nice, not crunchy, but firm outer shell, while the inside was soft and almost creamy. Payton seemed intrigues by his miniature corn, and even tried to eat the individual kernels before just popping it in his mouth. He looked up, face scrunched.
“Does it intrigue you to watch me eat? Maybe I show more enthusiasm for a meal since it’s such a rarity! Perhaps eating out of a McDonalds dumpster would give me more privacy!”
“I’m fed up with life,” Flint broke out.
Payton brushed some hair from his face, but didn’t say a thing.
“Sometimes I’m not sure if I want to go on,” he continued.
“Are you sure you want to be telling this to a homeless man rather than a shrink?”
“I’ve always felt like a failure. I’ve been through many dead-end jobs, I’ve alienated my family… I guess the thought that you may have something to live for is why I’m telling you this.”
Payton set his fork on the table and grew cold. His puzzled expression turned serious in an instant.
“Now you listen,” the man said under his breath, “You have obviously not hit the bottom. You may not be financially secure, but I’m sure you haven’t slept in an alley, begged for food, or been laughed at and called a f**k-up by people in suits as they drive by!”
The humming filters of the fish tanks filled the air, as well as the deepening breath of Payton. Flint opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He reached for his fork, but Payton interrupted him, now much calmer.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know you’re sincere. My own shortcomings are something I have to deal with every waking moment. When I was laid off from my job at the power plant, I had a hard time finding another one, or even a way to go on. Jobs were few, and none seemed to want me. When I still had a home-“
He reached for the salt and pepper shakers.
“Every morning I felt I had two choices. I could either pick up my phone and keep looking for a job-“ 
He held up the salt shaker.
“Or I could take all the pills I had and end it all.”
He lifted the pepper.
Flint looked at him and grabbed the shakers. “I like both when I eat.”
Payton laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. Despite pouring his heart out, he seemed cheerful.
“Well, it seems you made the better choice since you’re still here.” Flint said. 
“No, I didn’t,” he replied. “Eventually had enough of the salt and reached for the pepper. I’m just sad it didn’t do me in.”
“I see.”
Flint gestured that they should leave, and left the money for their meal and stood up.
“Thank you for the meal,” Payton said, shaking his hand. “I do appreciate it. I’m sure you have business to attend to, so I won’t keep you.”
“Well, unless you’re completely sick of me, could I maybe talk to you for a while?”
Payton scrunched his face again and scratched his forehead. “Can’t understand why, but I could use the company I suppose,” he replied.
The two walked outside into the cold. The wind had calmed down, and more people were walking on the sidewalks than earlier in the day. Suits with briefcases and cell phones buzzed by, not acknowledging anyone’s existence. Housewives with poodles that wore homemade sweaters, and people drove by and honked at pedestrians were about. Flint and Payton weaved through idle people on the sidewalk. Most of them would look up for a moment and then away so they wouldn’t offend or attract attention. The two walked aside each other with little words or conversation until they passed by the public park. 
“Mind if we sit here for a while?” Payton asked, pointing at a park bench.
Flint nodded and they sat down. For a cold day, there were many people, mostly younger people. A group of three teenagers nearby played hacky-sack, and further away some young kids were playing basketball. 
“Not the homeless are out today. These kids are full of energy. All bundles up in this weather, but they still face it and have just as much fun as if the weather were nice. Of course, animals don’t have a choice.”
“How would they?” Flint asked. “They’re taken care of by instinct and ability that was given to them. It seems to me they’re more equipped than humans are in this world.”
“What about the birds?” Payton asked.
He pointed up to a flock of geese flying overhead. They flew steadily in a near-perfect “V” formation going southward. 
“They seem fine to me. They fly south to warmer climates. Their form allows air currents to lift them, letting them put less effort to get to their destination.”
“Not all of them,” Payton replied. “It seems to me that for every flock, at least one falls out of formation.”
Sure enough, the homeless man was correct. Struggling behind was a slower goose, not as coordinated as the others. He seemed to be trying to catch up with the rest of them. 
“Do you think it’s worth it for him to even try if he was able to get back, life would be a lot easier for him,” Flint said.
The homeless mans face glazed over as he seemed to be searching for the words. Finally he answered. 
“If he were able to get back, he might be a lot happier. But doing so may be impossible. As it is, he’d probably do best to leave the flock and live life at the pace he was meant to go.”
Suddenly a hacky-sack hit Flint in the face. He flinched, and caught it as it rolled down. A teenager with baggy pants and a chain necklace walked to them nervously.
“I’m really sorry! We didn’t mean to hit you guys!”
“Payton stood up and took the hacky-sack from Flint’s hand. “Nonsense!” he said, and walked over to the group of teenagers. Flint was worried he’s do something to the kids, but instead he kicked it to them and began playing. Flint was also amazed that they didn’t seem to mind him at all. 
“Come and join in!” Payton urged him a few times. He resisted a few times, but then reluctantly agreed. He walked into their circle and joined in. When it came to him, he attempted to kick it and missed. 
“Sorry.”
One of the teenagers said, “Don’t worry; you’ll get the hang of it. Don’t put so much pressure on yourself. No one wins this game. It’s all fun.”
The boy kicked it to Payton, who kicked it to Flint. This time he got it. He didn’t know exactly what he was doing, but he was really enjoying himself. 
The sunset gave the land an orange tint. They continued playing until Payton began coughing violently. The three teenagers and Flint took him over to a park bench to sit him down, but his coughing persisted.
“Maybe he needs to go to the hospital,” one of the boys said. 
“Do any of you have a car?” Flint asked.
One of them nodded and they loaded Payton into the boy’s car.
Flint’s muscles tightened more and more as his coughing persisted. The hospital was nearby, but it still seemed to take forever. When taking him in, Flint thanked the teens. “I appreciate this. You don’t have to stay though.”
The one who had kicked the hacky-sack at them earlier replied, “We want to stay and make sure he’s okay.”
Flint agreed and they all took him to the emergency area. The room was packed with people that had hurt themselves, and very sick looking ones. They sat down to wait their turn, looking through the magazine collection to occupy them. As he was reading one about parenting, an incoherent drunk man sat next to him. He could smell the alcohol coming from his chapped lips. 
“She’s really hot!” he yelled, pointing at a woman in the magazine. He didn’t seem to realize how loud he was yelling. Flint got up and moved a seat away. The drunken man moved over to him and continued to talk to him. He was dressed in a wrinkled suit that had a brown stain of some sort on the collar. 
“Do you have a woman?” He slurred.
“Please leave me alone,” Flint replied. “I’m worried about my… friend.”
“I just wanted someone to talk to. I’ve had better days. I really have. Things just seem to be going downhill.”
Flint gestured with his hand for the drunk to get away when the three teenagers decided to console him.
“What’s wrong?” asked one of them with blond spiky hair and an orange tank-top. The drunk calmed down and told his story. It had been his birthday days ago when he had a fight with his wife. Their tempers had heightened and he left, going to live in a motel.
“I apologize for my rudeness. No matter how bad things get for me, it is difficult for me to show empathy for others,” Flint said.
“Don’t apologize. My reaction would have been worse. I would have had some of the burly nurses drag you out!” he replied. 
Down the hallway, one of the large nurses was wheeling Payton towards them. He looked miserable. Flint and the teenagers walked over to him, and the drunken man followed. He looked tired, with wear and baggage on his face.
“Will you be okay?” Flint asked.
The wear on his face seemed to disappear and transformed into a grin that ran from ear to ear. 
“Oh, that coughing was nothing! It won’t keep me down!” he said.
“Why are you in the wheelchair?” the spiky-haired kid asked. 
Payton laughed loudly. “Even a homeless man deserves some comfort now and then. If a limo is out of reach, an attendant pushing me around in a chair will suffice! It seems like I always get the wobbly one though.”
He demonstrated the wobbly wheelchair, which reminded Flint of the shopping carts he always seemed to get.
The woman with the wheelchair scowled at them, her lips protruding a near-inch from her face. She reminded Flint of the fish at the Chinese restaurant.
“Okay, I can walk. Thank you for the kind hospitality!” he said.
He got and began walking with them when he saw the drunken man. He inquired about who he was. Flint said, “Just a man that needed someone to talk to. He has been having hard times when he left his wife a few days ago.”
Payton stared into his eyes seriously and with intent.
“No matter what the squabble, I advise you to do anything you can to keep who you love. Show them you care with every bit of energy you have. You can find them to be gone in an instant. Don’t let your actions have anything to do with it. You will find yourself regretting it forever.”
The drunken man nodded and embraced Payton.
“I didn’t tell you to hug me!”
He backed off the homeless man, who laughed.
“I was kidding!” he said, embracing the drunk.
When they left the hospital, two people were standing at the entrance with roses. Both were male and dressed in suits.
“Here you go!” they said, handing them all flowers.
“No, we don’t want to buy any. Keep them to yourselves,” Flint said.
The two suited men looked at each other with a smile. One of them said, “These aren’t for sale. We want to give them to you!”
Why on Earth would anyone do something like that?” Payton asked.
“We are not here to advertise or sell anything. We merely wanted to show you Gods love in a practical way. He has many gifts for His creations.”
“Do you know when He’s giving out houses and high-paying jobs?” Payton joked.
“We’ll make sure to tell you when He does,” the man replied.
The sun had gone down, and the world seemed to be settling down. The teenagers, Flint, and Payton had gotten into the car, and drunken man said his goodbyes. He sounded determined to give his life a happy ending. As they rode home, they grew silent. Flint looked out the window as stores were closing up, and street lights flew by them. Laurence the barber was turning off the lights to his store and was getting ready to go home. Flint directed the teenagers to where he lived, and then dropped him and Payton off. Flint thanked them.
“No problem,” said the boy with the orange shirt. “If you ever see us in the park, you’re welcome to join in.”
“I might just do that,” Flint replied.
They all shook hands and the teenagers drove away.
“It is time for me to thank you as well,” Payton said. “An interesting day to say the least.”
He turned away to leave, but Flint stopped him.
“What kind of person would I be if I let you stay outside in the middle of winter when you’re in this state of health?” Flint said.
Payton frowned. “I wouldn’t feel right. You’re not well-off either my friend.”
“I have enough to get by. This won’t be forever, but you should stay until you get better.”
Payton agreed, and the two walked toward the apartment complex. His balding neighbor saw him on his way in and gave him a worried glance.
Flint ignored him. “He probably thinks I’m preparing myself for a life of being homeless!” 
Payton chuckled. The two walked inside and found their way to his apartment. Once inside, Payton looked at the mess on the floor. 
“What a dump… fits me fine!”
“My place is a work of art. You never have to feel bad about doing something to mess up the place.” 
Flint requested that Payton take a shower to rid himself of his scent, which he happily obliged to. Flint sat on his bed reading the newspaper from the day before and heard Payton singing in the shower.
“Some habits never die,” he softly said to himself.
When Payton was finished, he came back into Flint’s room and showed off the clothes that were laid out for him. 
“A bit too big for you? You’ll grow into them,” said Flint. 
“Of course,” Payton scowled. “Would it be a trouble if I went to bed now?”
“Go ahead. But…,” Flint turned serious. “I have a question.”
Payton nodded at him to ask. 
“When you mentioned that you should do everything you can to keep the people you love… Have you ever lost anyone like that?”
“My wife,” he replied sadly. “Goodnight Flint.”
“Goodnight.”
Payton went into the other room and turned off the light. Flint lay in bed, looking out the window at a chained dog across the street until he dozed off.


“Good morning!” Payton yelled.
The light flashed and Flint covered his eyes. 
“Are you crazy? It’s not even light out!”
Suddenly the alarm next door began buzzing.
“It’s time to wake up! It’s a beautiful morning!”
Payton yelled through the paper-thin walls. A grumble came back from the other side.
“Why would you wake me up this early?” Flint asked.
“Today is a new day. I shaved myself already, and intend to look for a job. I intend to drag you along as well,” Payton said.
Flint looked at him with his light-sensitive eyes and saw he was indeed shaved, taking off about ten years of age with it. The light gave him an angelic glow, and his smile deepened that presence. He got up and got himself ready. He was disturbed to see all the grey hairs that Payton had left in his razor, but he cleaned himself up as well anyway. After he had taken a shower, he found Payton at the door and ready to go. 
“Where do we plan to look?” Flint asked.
“We will look in the newspaper. We will look for hiring signs. A job will not find us. We will find it.”
The two walked outside in the parking lot towards Flint’s car.
“I hope the Gremlin will start today,” he said.
Payton looked below him and saw a penny on the ground. 
“No better way to give us good luck than to find a penny,” he said, reaching down.
“But the penny is worn away, and you can’t tell whether heads is up or down. You know the superstition,” Flint said. 
“When I can’t see which side is up, I take it. Perhaps it will be tales, but it would be unfortunate to miss a penny that would bring me luck.”
He picked it up and saw that heads was indeed up.
“I am glad to have taken it,” he said.
Flint nodded and unlocked his Gremlin, letting Payton in on the other side. He climbed in and put on his seat belt.
“Don’t hold your breath yet,” Flint said.
Flint slowly put the key in and started the engine. It was running perfectly. Flint and Payton smiled at each other. He pulled out of the apartment complex and drove away. All he could think about was the possibilities he faced. It would be a long road, but he would continue driving.

Reviews

[Claire Twinn]

What a beautiful and heart warming tale, we all have the strength to drag ourselves out of despair but a bit of kindness and someone helping to share the load really helps.

[Nicholas Enloe]

Thank you very much. I'm glad you enjoyed it.