Friends in Unlikely Places

 The cold Chicago wind drove me into my daily grease spoon. There wasn't anything remarkable about it: a waitress with some eye-catching curves, some booths just stiff enough for the tired or the drunk.
I loosened my grip on the flaps of my coat, giving a weary smile to the random passerby. I had to make myself presentable in the best way I could. The folks here didn't take kindly to my presence nowadays. I used to be just like the others- reliable, consistent- someone faceless and effortless.
I hadn't been agreeable as of late. Aka, I had been a bum, an inconvenience. Couldn't blame them though. They all had their own lives to attend to, and work, as far as I was concerned, was an invasion of privacy, that big eight to twelve-hour block that smothered your dreams.
So when the waitress gave me the evil eye, I returned it with a lighthearted smile. In some ways I hated my compassion. I couldn't figure it out nowadays. Was it a plea for attention? An act to to distract the wandering eye? I didn't know anymore.
"Bella," I said to the waitress, my enthusiasm earnest. "How ya doin'? Not too many sour faces?"
She gave me a half-hearted smile. I couldn't help but feel like I was a part of the problem. I tried to rectify this in my own clumsy way. "I'm smilin' the best I can," I offered.
She wasn't impressed. "I know that, Thomas." I felt like my mother had just scolded me. I turned my head away, my lips thinning as I thought of a way to make myself more presentable. My resources were lacking in that endeavor. Mainly because I would be asking for my usual.
My usual had been attracting attention as of late. "What do you got in the back?"
She stilled, her eyes lurid as she sought her words. I tapped my hands anxiously on the table, my smile waning. She gave me the barest of leers. "Can't do that no more," she said crossly. "Too many questions."
I rubbed my chin, trying to figure out a way to coax her. "C'mon Bella," I said gently. "You know I've been payin' more than it's worth."
"Not the point Thomas," she snapped. "Too many eyes, I told you already."
I felt my heart stammer. "Bella," I said. "I can wait, you know that. I can keep it in the dark-"
"It's ain't that," she snipped. "The manager...He caught wind of it."
I groaned. "Aw shit." The tips of my fingers tapped faster against the counter. "Alright, alright," I compromised. "Anything day-old? 'Bout near that time?"
She sighed and closed her eyes. "Just gimme a sec," she said. "Should be clearing up around here soon. Just lemme work, alright?"
I silently assented, my eyes drifting to the cup of coffee she laid out before me. I smiled. She always gave me that courtesy, no matter how much of a pain in the ass I had been. I loved the gal for that.
I sipped at the coffee, relishing that familiar smoky flavor. Grease spoons had some of the best coffee, like a good ebony beer. My fingers pressed against the white mug as I stared down the oil-black depths. It took me a moment to realize that Bella had been trying to catch my attention.
"Hey!" she said. "Hey! You're good now."
I downed the coffee, uncaring of the burning in my throat. "Why so fast?" I asked.
"Slow today," she said. "Make it quick though."
I laughed inside, my eyes crinkling as I smiled. "You're an angel, Bella."
"Yeah, whatever," she said, though I knew she wasn't being malicious about it. I left the restaurant as quickly and discreetly as I could. Kinda hard, considering I looked like an unkempt salty dog in a gray long coat. I made my way around the back of the restaurant towards the dumpsters, my eyes aware of everything yet distracted by nothing. Bella had been right. The streets were bare today.
Immediately, I began sorting through the dumpster, finding what was freshest, what the flies hadn't gotten to. I sorted through it all with my usual efficiency, stuffing it all into nameless plastic bags. I had brought a bunch of them, and to my fortune, it would seem that I'd be using all of them. After about 15 minutes I called it quits, satisfied with what I had gotten. With stuffed bags in my hands I made my way back home, absorbing the squalor of my street, with its patches and tendrils of grime and graffiti, like some daffy hippy had gone ape-shit with a paintbrush and a vat of varnishing.
Didn't matter though. I'd be heading home.
Home.
My steps hastened as I thought about that warm shit-hole I called a home, my smile brightening up until I crossed "Boyo's Beer and Spirits." I stopped in front of it, though I didn't lend a glance. My throat felt suddenly parched, my head demanding that I turn towards it.
Couldn't do it. I wanted it more than anything. Hell, I needed it. But nowadays I wouldn't even bat it an eye.
I sped my steps as I neared that anonymous number upon the door. 117. The entry to my home. Home. I couldn't tire of thinking it. I opened the door, its hinges creaking in protest to the cold outside. I closed the door, relishing the abrupt warmth of the place, that old-time craftsmanship to keep the winter at bay. I ascended up the steps, their solid planks echoing subtly as I ascended up to my solitary room upon the third floor. Room 9. My home.
My trembling hands fumbled for the key to unlock the door, the scent of my abode wafting towards me, both spicy yet unkempt. Never could figure out why, nor did I want to. I didn't have much company nowadays.
The door gave that comforting click as I entered and locked the deadlock. I panned my sight around my nook of a kitchen, just barely clean enough to keep the roaches at bay. I ambled along the faded wooden floor to my cotton recliner, a fuzzy, scratchy thing with no real discernible color. I didn't care though. It took my heft with just a slight, creaking protest as I settled.  I closed my eyes, almost forgetting about the bags in my hands until I heard the telltale padding of fours.
"Lily," I said distantly, my eyelids growing heavy. "You've been feeling alright?"
Her response had that typical reprimanding tone. "I've been fine, Thomas. It's you who I'm worried about it."
I chuckled upon hearing her voice, how proper it was, her inflection flawless. "Wasting your energy," I said as the bags slipped from my fingertips. I could tell she was frowning at me.
"You need to sleep more," she said, her heat wafting over to me, a comfort that I couldn't help but lose myself in.
"I consider that an invasion of privacy," I said with a grin. She wasn't amused.
"I worry about you," she said. "You know that."
"You don't have to worry about me," I said as my eyes opened. I reached over to the shelf behind me and plucked a rectangular block of wood from it, my other hand mindlessly procuring the knife from my pocket. I began carving, my mind's eyes already sketching out its form.
The small dragoness frowned at me. "I want to believe you," she said earnestly. "But you've been off lately."
"Not off," I assured as I carved, a tinge of frustration seething from my mind. My hands were too jittery, too tentative. It wasn't what I was used to.
Lily noticed. "When's the last time you've had a drink?"
"It ain't that," I said, trying to smother the annoyance from my voice. I kept carving, the image in my head fading as I reached out for the indistinct details.
I roared a curse when the knife slit my hand. "GOD DAMN IT!" I threw the knife aside, the unfinished block of wood clattering upon the floor. I felt like an invalid, felt useless. I looked up at my carvings upon the cluttered shelves, envying my past skill, a skill that had inexplicably left me, like a long-known lover gone astray.
"It ain't that," I said again, though my shaking hands belied my words. Lily padded towards me and placed a paw upon my bleeding hand.
"It's the glamor," she said guiltily. "Isn't it?"
My head swayed like a drunkard. "I told you," I said wearily. "It ain't that."
Her beautiful forest eyes saw through me. "You can't tell me that. I haven't seen you with a bottle in awhile."
"Don't matter," I said. "Been off lately, that's all." She smiled indulgently.
"Thomas," she said gingerly. "You know how old I am- the memories I hold." She walked closer to me and nuzzled my hand. "You're absconding."
"Ain't that!" I protested. Didn't know why I was arguing with a female, even though she was of a mythological race. Force of habit I guessed. "Just...Been stressed."
"Why?" she asked. I shook my head.
My hand flailed uselessly as I sought the words. "Ain't no money," I admitted. "No money for booze."
She frowned. "You can't carve with an unsteady hand."
"I'll learn," I shot back. "I got to."
She edged closer, her deep blue dorsals like a storm's penumbra. "Why?" she asked me.
"You know I don't talk about that," I said as I got to my feet. The dragoness followed after me, her one ragged wing bouncing as she trotted.
"Tell me," she said. "I need to know."
"Know what?"
"Why you take care of me," she said, her eyes moistening. "No one's done this for me, not like this."
I looked her over, marveling at her midnight blue scales that captured light and reflected it like so many moons. "That hard to figure out, Lily?"
"Different times," she said. "I want your version."
"My version," I said, scoffing. "You deserve better."
"No," she said lightly. "I deserve yours."
I laughed through my nose. "Alright," I said as I sat myself down in my chair. Lily joined me and nudged her head beneath my hand, her scales cool like marble, delicate and strong.
"Why do you want to hear some salty dog's tale?" I asked.
"Because your story is sweeter," she replied.
I cast my gaze up at the plaster ceiling, my vision blurring as I looked into the window of a memory. "Got into trouble like that before," I stated.
"Like what?" Lily asked.
I swallowed. "Confusion," I said simply. "Just...So confused about every damn thing, like I had lived most of my life under a rock and then decided to explore. Didn't know what was good for me, what was bad. I was just...Lost."
"Why were you lost?" Lily asked.
I patted her head. "We don't have your years," I said to her. "We have to find a purpose or get lost. But..." I laughed bitterly. "I found my purpose too late. It don't mean a whole hell of a lot anymore."
"Your carvings?" she said as she looked over my work. "But they're beautiful."
"No money," I said blankly. "People don't have money."
"Money's been a necessity," she said factually. "Be it bartering or coin. But happiness...Everyone forgets the worth."
"Enlighten me then," I said as I raised my arms up with a laugh. I felt instantly shamed by the remark. I hadn't meant to sound sardonic. Lily didn't seem to care though. She said, "You still didn't answer my question."
"About what?"
"About why you take care of me," she said with a tilt of her head. I looked up at the ceiling and brushed my fingers against the spines of her dorsal.
"You wanna hear that depressing shit?" I said with a chuckle. She laid herself across my lap.
"Sure," she said. "Television's broke anyway. I'm gonna miss out on my Marx Brother's fix."
I laughed at that. "I'm no Groucho, unfortunately. But I'll give you the rundown." It took me a spell to gather my thoughts. "I guess," I said with some reluctance, "that I took you in 'cause...Well, I'm one of those weird people."
Lily snorted. "Weird people?"
"Yeah," I said, sounding falsely offended. "Weird people. I just don't fit in. I try like hell...I really do. I can get the jib down sometimes, but..." I sighed. "People catch on. I ain't one of them, no matter how hard I try."
"You're lonely?" Lily asked.
I didn't want to answer that- sounded weak. Didn't want to think of myself as weak. I had gone through too much shit to think like that. Yet...
"Yeah," I said hoarsely. "Guess you nailed it."
She pressed her head against me as I cradled her. She said to me, "There are those who would die for this."
"For what?" I asked.
She paused for a moment. "Comfort," she said as she closed her eyes. Her next words were ephemeral and soft. "To enter the darkness with someone near."
I didn't know what to make of that. Didn't know if she was getting philosophical on me or not. Didn't care too much though. Even with the jitter in my hands and the tremulous thoughts, I felt so warm near her, so at ease, like she connected me to a time long-forgotten, a time before the stress, before the drama. To simplicity.
I felt my consciousness slip as I petted her scales, the rumble in my belly silenced by her steady breathing.
The peace deafened all.