Sid Empties His Pockets.
S4 Ep 10: The Man Who Woke up the Buddha.
Previously: As they left the General Store and began walking, Sid told Marcus stories about his homeless friends who were hanging out on the Town Common across the street. In the process, he explained his philosophy of socially responsible investing, which he illustrated, in part, by buying hot chocolate for a heavily bundled-up band of daycare kids.
Sid seemed to lose his footing as he took a few steps into the alley between the post office and the old Gothic church that was now a club where people came from 100 miles away or more to see bands that Sid had never heard of, singing lyrics that he didn’t understand, even after Courtney or Junior explained them.
You don’t have to be a genius to understand the message behind Let’s Spend the Night Together or Lay Lady Lay. (The thought kind of floated through Sid’s head as if it didn’t belong to anyone in particular.) But songs like Lunch? Or Swim? The kids told him they were both about sex. But why didn’t the bands just come out and say it like the good old days?
“You OK, buddy?” At first, Marcus figured Sid was just catching his breath, but one look at his face made it clear it was more than that. He looked stricken, as if having a seizure of some kind.
“Hey Sid…I’ll get the car. We’ll go back to the house.” He already had his phone out to call 911.
But just as quickly Sid was back, trying to pass it off as nothing. “Wanted to get out of the way of the people walking behind us,” he explained.
“Oh, that makes sense,” Marcus said, even though it made no sense since no one was behind them.
Sid started gingerly walking again in front of the Odd Fellows Hall which hadn’t been shoveled, making his movements a risky mix of slipping and sloshing.
Suddenly, a few yards ahead, a figure plowed through the snowbank, arms flailing like he was a Dr. Zhivago extra trying to get to the set on time. It was only an act of God and Marcus grabbing his arm that kept Sid from inadvertently joining the Odd Fellows.
“Mr. Sid!” Danny called happily, as he brushed off his three-sizes-too-large coat and stomped his untied boots to shake off the snow. “I was hoping I’d run into you!”
“Odds were pretty good,” Marcus said quietly, “since you saw us at the General Store and we left walking this way.”
“Marcus, show Danny some respect. He lives so fully in the now he often doesn’t remember what happened a few minutes ago.”
That’s a very open-hearted way of explaining it, the Buddha commented approvingly.
“Of course the drugs he used to do weren’t all that good for his short-term memory,” Sid added.
Of course, that’s a far more accurate way of explaining it, the Buddha acknowledged.
Danny looked back and forth between them as if he wasn’t aware of what was going on in that moment, let alone a few minutes ago…let alone what that other voice in his head was.
“Danny?” Sid said, as if equally pleased to have run into him. “How’s Martha?”
“Oh…” Danny shook his head. Sid shook his head in solidarity, preparing for the bad news he could tell Danny was undoubtedly going to impart.
Marcus’ eyes widened, both impressed and appalled that his friend was about to buy into whatever story Danny was selling.
“The doctors say she isn’t responding to the latest antibiotics, so they’re going to have to try another combo.”
“I guess you’ll want to get right up there, Danny.” Sid nodded sympathetically.
Danny nodded seriously.
Marcus nodded skeptically.
“Is Timmy going to take you?” Sid asked.
“Yup, and he’s…”
“I know, Danny, it’s $15 in gas money.” He turned to Marcus and said quietly, “I should buy Timmy a hybrid. It would save me money in the long run.”
“No, that’s what I needed to tell you!” Danny said urgently.
“What, he wants $20?”
“No, he told me he can’t afford to take me anymore for just gas money. He wants to be paid by the mile. He says it’s a government rule.”
Sid turned to Marcus who was busy rolling his eyes. Di hadn’t let Sid do their taxes since he tried to take Bieça1 as a deduction, so he had no idea what the current mileage rate was. He doubted Danny did either. “Marcus?”
“About 70 cents a mile,” Marcus said, looking now to the heavens as if in prayer. “And it’s about 60 miles…so 120 round trip. Danny needs something like $84.”
Danny looked at Marcus, amazed. “How did you know that? That’s exactly what Timmy said.”
Marcus shrugged modestly.
“I’m afraid I don’t have that much on me, Danny,” Sid sighed.
Danny sighed.
Marcus sighed.
“Wait…didn’t Timmy strand you there once when he said he’d be back soon to get you?” Sid asked.
“Oh, that’s because he had an emergency.”
“Which probably means,” Sid said to Marcus, “that he’d heard there was a new batch of dope around town with Xylazine, and he wanted a taste before it was all gone. At least he makes sure his girlfriend has the Narcan ready if he stops breathing.”
“I tell you what, Danny,” Sid said. “I’ll give you $42. When Timmy brings you safely back, I’ll give him the other $42.”
“Oh…well…OK,” Danny said, picturing himself sleeping in the bus shelter outside the medical center.
“It’ll be fine, Danny. Tell Timmy, if he won’t do it that way, we’ll get you an Uber.”
“You’ll get him an Uber?” Marcus asked. (It was more like a gasp.) He realized that his disbelief at the very idea of Sid getting Danny an Uber meant he was worthy of some disparaging acronym for a privileged white guy. But he couldn’t stop himself from continuing to object: “That would cost you something like $100 each way, Sid!”
“No choice, Marcus. We’re already up over $40 for the day, what with our two breakfasts and the $20 I slipped to Beth…not to mention how much hot chocolate those pre-K juvenile delinquents are probably drinking by now.2 Our budget for this walk is $100—and we haven’t even run into Melvin yet—so I can’t give him more than the $42 for the one way.”
“You have a budget?” Marcus asked. “Sure doesn’t seem like it.”
Sid waved his objection away as he reached into his front right pocket for a twenty, back right for a ten, back left for two fives, and front left for two singles.
“Thanks Mr. Sid!” Danny said enthusiastically. “Martha knew you’d do it. She said to give you a big kiss.”
“No need, Danny…I’ll wait ’til she’s back and she can do it herself.”
Danny walked away laughing.
“Sid, can I ask you a serious question?” Marcus asked.
“No.”
“I didn’t think so…How much heroin do you think you’ve bought over the years?”
“Good question, Marcus. But no one does heroin anymore. They do fentanyl with maybe a little heroin or just filler—whatever the latest combo is. Giving my friends money that they end up using for drugs is an occupational hazard.”
“That’s quite an occupation,” Marcus said.
“Of course, if they weren’t addicts,” Sid said, “they might have occupations of their own and wouldn’t need my money. Some addicts do have jobs you know…rock and roll stars, politicians, and doctors who decide to give themselves a taste of their own medicine. And, by the way, their kids don’t get taken into custody. But you can discuss that with my favorite social worker, a.k.a. your wife Leila.”
“Well but…” Marcus began.
“Look. Marcus,” Sid said, ignoring him, “sometimes it’s dope but often it is some kind of crisis—although I must admit my friends consider most things crises. Like Beth needing propane for the heater in their tent or Danny needing a ride to see his sick wife. Sometimes they need a flip phone so they can do the required check-ins with their parole officer or the copay on a script that the ER has given them that they can’t afford to fill because of byzantine fine print in the Medicaid system.”
“Well, if everyone knows you’ll give them money, why aren’t they all coming over and hitting you up?”
“Oh, there’s a certain honor among the desperate, Marcus. First, they see me with you. Not sure of your game. And some know they’ve gone to the well too often or they’re afraid they have and don’t want to ruin a good thing. Occasionally, I just say no consistently enough that they give up.”
“What makes you finally do that?” Marcus asked.
“I’ve wondered that myself,” Sid said, pleased he was learning to imitate Sistah, Courtney’s roommate and identical—although unrelated—twin sister. “You see, I’m their confidant as well as their ATM. That’s why I have a rule…”
“Rule?” Marcus asked. “I didn’t think the Buddha had rules.”
Sometimes you have to make them up as you go along, the Buddha explained.
“Well, I just make them up as I go along,” Sid explained. “For example, I never give a person money—especially one I’ve never talked with before—unless I have time to ask them what’s going on in their lives and if they have a place to sleep that night. Speaking of which, let’s go to the hardware store and find out how LJ is doing on the night shift in the basement.”
After they walked a few more steps, Sid stopped and turned towards Marcus. His face was uncommonly sad but determined. “Marcus, giving money to people on the street is not for the faint of heart…”
Paid Subscribers receive paperback copies of the first three seasons.
Note: Many people first subscribed to Fields of Vision when I was doing a series called Street Cred about people in my hometown who live on the street by day and wherever they can by night. This and the next couple of episodes are inspired, in part, by those experiences—with the added benefit of Sid’s and the Buddha’s commentary.
Bieça is their Spanish Waterdog who appeared in the first chapter and has been making cameos ever since.
See previous chapter.