CHAPTER 8: Say Goodnight, Nathan (Part Three)

As we hustle back out the door of Cafe Lulu, a sudden flash of radiant yellow, so close it brushes Bernie's back, startles us both. A small bird, no bigger than the palm of my hand, hits the square glass pane in the cafe door and falls to the ground. We aren't the only ones who see it. Near the sweet jasmine is an old black tom cat, eyes glued on the bird, sitting as still as if he has already been stuffed.

It is obvious the bird is only stunned. Its tiny heart is moving the feathered chest so strongly that I can count the heart beats.

I sit on the ground and Bernie groans for his old joints as he lies down next to me; we form a protective barrier between the cat and the bird.

Then I realize it isn't just the bird, the cat, Bernie and me. Standing on the sidewalk watching us is the Preacher. He doesn't move until I smile and wave. Then he slowly walks over and sits quietly on the closest bench. It is a comfortable silence. I realize this is a strange and some tell me even dangerous friendship, but I am as drawn to him as if we were together in a past life. I heard he was recently evicted from a store for preaching inside and from a bistro during the rain for taking off his shoes and trying to put layers of their paper napkins inside to keep his feet dry.

Suddenly, "Sometimes I scare people," he announces in a low voice. When I nod in agreement, that's all it takes and it all comes spilling out. He speaks in a monotone as if reciting something he memorized years ago and has repeated over and over. He's lonely for someone to talk to. People avoid him. That's the way it is for the homeless. In the caste systems of most any society, they are at the bottom.

"God tells me to preach," he says. "The house where I grew up, I heard a voice talking to me all the time. It scared me. I thought there were ghosts in the house. My parents had me in and out of hospitals trying to find out why I heard the voice. Now I know who it was. It was God. God was telling me to preach. As soon as I started preaching I was healed. One time I went back to my house and knocked on the door. There was a woman there. I told her I wanted to go inside and see if the voice still talked to me in there. She wouldn't let me in. She closed the door and wouldn't let me in."

With this, there is a subtle change. The longer he talks, the louder his voice gets. Abruptly, he shouts, "Spare the rod and spoil the child!" It just bursts out of him like a cork out of a hot bottle. People walking by jump and quickly look away. Bernie stands up with a low, almost imperceptible rumble deep in his chest.

Then I remember why we are sitting here. I look over, but the bird is gone and the cat is gone too.  It's okay, I tell myself. The bird flew away and the old cat just lost interest.