The few centimetres of snow covered the dark parking lot. Turned it into a huge, white, blanket. The wind from the north added a few more negative degrees to an already chilly night. The sun set few hours earlier didn’t help the bitter cold. Various cars, and trucks glazed with dirt and salt hinged onto the once pristine vehicle. Traffics noise from the 6 o’clock commute home screeched, alarming the corner of Jane and Finch. People hurried to the various stores, hiding from the cool, more than that, quickly to get home to cook, clean and taking care of their children, their family.
Tinh stood hiding behind the corner of Long Siu supermarket, away from the sharp cold wind. He kept thinking about where we would sleep tonight. Somewhere warm, he wished. Somewhere with a blanket, that would be perfect, he surmised. His stomach growled, distracted him from the uncertain future. Dressed in baggy jeans that have seen better days, and multiple layers of shirt and jackets that he had found in the blue donation box around the corner. His unkempt face added ages to the teenage body.
“Please sir, change?” Tinh asked in his broken english: saying too quickly without stopping to finish each word.
The passerby kept on walking, either didn’t hear the question, or pretended not to. Tinh pushed his back into the wall, hoping it would ease the freezing cold. His legs numbed from standing at the corner since noon, shook uncontrollably.
A couple exited the grocery store, speaking in Vietnamese, as they headed to their car. The wife was discussing the sour soup they were about to cook and the husband was eagerly getting ready to watch the new Paris By Night video. Tinh was about to ask them for help in Vietnamese, but quickly changed his mind, “food, hungry, please.” Tinh didn’t want people to know he’s Vietnamese. He didn’t want to embarrass other of his kind. Importantly, he didn’t want his mother to know he was now a panhandler in the country his mother have sacrificed her life to send him to, for the better of his future.
Exhausted from lack of provisions, Tinh sat down. His stomach called out. Wrapped around his legs to form a ball, the cold ease off a little, but not much. He felt sleepy. The wind scattered fews bits of snow into to him, but he didn’t care. He felt weak. Wanting a place to lay down, something warm to eat, Tinh wished. I should go to Timmy across the street, it’s warmer, Tinh thought, but than again, I should just lay here. No energy left for him to move.
“Merry Christmas,” someone said, the sound of coins bounced of the cement floor.
Tinh looked up, hurriedly grabbed a few cents scattered around him. “Thank you,” he murmured, looking up, a silhouotes of a woman walking away from him, slim, petite, long dark hair with a stride that look familiar to a woman who had raised him. Dimes, nickel, and looney, Tinh counted. His tummy put out an alarming sound. Pushed himself up, the pains in his left legs call out, Tinh squeezed his face, gave out an uncomfortable sigh.
Stepped into the well-lit cafe, the warmth quickly hug Tinh. People looked at him, looking at human garbage. Scanned around the cafe, he could sense people stare at him, but quickly move their eyes away, afraid to communicate with the stinky hobos that may harass them for free coffee.
“May, I help you?” the cashier asked, looking at her till.
Looking up at the menu, then at the change in his hands, just enough to either to get a soup or a coffee. Tinh put his fund onto the counter. The cashier counted out loud, “what do you want sir?” she inquired. Tinh looked at her, confused. Silent. Tinh stared at the menu. How do you said it in English, Tinh thought. He wanted food, he wished. Silent. His gut screamed. Someone coughed from the line, signalling him to order quickly. “sir, can you make up your mind,” the cashier said in an indignation tone.
Unable to communicate, Tinh rubbed in tummy. “Soup, it is” the girl announced, directed him to the left. The hot, steamy, broccoli chowder, came in a waxed cup and a bun with butter on the side, strolling toward him, and placed in front of his face. Tinh took it, looking for a place to sit down. Most of the table were occupies, many speak loudly in Vietnamese. Tinh saw an empty high chair in the corner and decided to head there. Laid out the merchandise, the smell watered his mouth.
“Don’t forget to say grace, before every meal,” the voice in his head told him. A teaching that had ingrained in his head since birth. Tinh closed his eyes, said a few words for the meal he was about to partake. The savage swiftly rampaging the hot meal in front of him. When the soup was done, he licked what was left of the butter, savouring every taste. Looked at the cup again, hoping to scrape some noodles, but it was picked clean. Sat in the warm restaurant, starring out onto the street, the soft, white, snow, layer some more on the ground. Tinh yawned. He was getting sleepy. I needed a rest, he thought, but where? last night at the dumpster behind the building almost got him killed when the garbage truck making the round. The night before under the staircase in another building, the superintendent gave him a beating before throwing him out to the street. His eyes rimmed with redness, as he was debating where to sleep, the image of his simple bed back home brought to his eyes. Had to find a place to sleep, he told himself as he got up. The left legs ached again.
The cold wind howled in his face as he stepped out into the open air. His leg screamed. Zipped up his jacked, Tinh pushed toward into the direction of the buildings scattered between Jane and Finch.
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