Bus Fare

After leaving a good first class meeting I stop in Saint Adelante’s Tavern for a half pint before my Shakespeare class.

I consider asking one of the local guys down the bar his opinion on the homeless. He’s eyeing me warily with his hand wrapped around a half pint as well. I check my watch and decide I just don’t have the time. I swallow my Guinness and set off to the flats across from the Head of the River Pub.  I’m checking how much currency I have in coins. I’m still not used to the fact that coins amount to real money in this country. I pass the Post Office, where I’ve sent home a handful of letters, trying to total what I’ve got in my palm. A skinny guy with an Ethan Hawke goatee approaches me.

“Could you give me some change? I need to get enough to get my girlfriend a bus ticket.” He’s talking really fast. I stop and look at him aware that I have change literally in my hand which makes saying no a hard option.

“How much do you need?” He’s got on a black hooded sweatshirt and basketball shorts. His fat-tongued skater shoes are beat up off-brands. I suspect he can’t even kick-flip.

“Well my girlfriend needs to get to Reading and I only need about a pound-seventy more. Could you give me forty pence? I could call her if you want.” It’s the habit of liars to try and over validate themselves; as if I could somehow verify that the person on the other end of the phone call was a girlfriend in need of a bus ticket. His teeth give him away. They’re black and rotted from top to bottom, even the front ones. I give him the forty pence with change left over in my hand.

“Could you spare anymore?” I feel my head cock to the side and I’m grilling him from behind my sunglasses. I slide him another forty pence. There’s still change left over in my hand.

“Could I have the rest of it?” He looks down at the coins still left in my hand: twenties, fives, a ten or two, and some pennies. My voice comes out hard.

“You asked for forty pence and I gave you eighty. Get lost.” He clicks his teeth with a loud exhale through his nose and stalks off up the street. It’s one thing to be begging for change, another thing to be lying about it, and even another thing further to be fucking ungrateful.