Prose Header


The Unhoused Gift

by Peter R. West

Table of Contents
Table of Contents
parts 1, 2, 3

conclusion


Max was sitting on a worn-out bench outside the courtroom, reading a newspaper. A small headline on the second page announced: “Residents Cheer Police Sweep of Unhoused from Sidewalk.”

Stanley approached. “I’m glad you are not incarcerated. Where are they putting everyone?”

“No one knows yet. I slept at a temp shelter last night. Got weak coffee and burnt toast this morning. I came here to check on some of the folks about to appear in front of the judge. Bianca was taken too. She sat next to a couple guys doing meth and the cops nabbed all of them.”

“She is in the pen here? In her condition?”

“Yep. She is a street person and being treated like one. I hope they tested her, so they’d see that she was clean. Hopefully, the judge will let her go.”

Stanley turned to go. “I’m going to talk to her. I’ll try to represent her at the arraignment.”

“Big time! Usually, our kind get a twenty-something fresh off the bar PD, still lugging around their law books for assistance.”

“Well, it’s the least I can do for her. I’ll see you inside the courtroom.” Stanley walked toward the detention area.

Bianca was brought over. She looked frightened. She also seemed to be under physical stress, holding her stomach. “Am so sorry to bother you, sir. But I am glad you are here. I didn’t have anything to do with the drugs. Can you help me get out?” She winced in discomfort.

“Are you in a lot of pain?”

She signaled, So-so.

“I can represent you at the arraignment and do my best to get you out of here. Please tell me all the circumstances of your arrest.”

Bianca described her arrest and the other transients who did the drugs.

“Did they do a drug test on you at any point?” asked Stanley.

“Yes, they took a blood sample.”

* * *

The judge lowered his gavel and the courtroom went silent. Stanley observed the judge’s furrowed brows and imagined he hated these loaded morning sessions. One by one, various suspects were brought in to argue for their freedom, while the overworked public defender pleaded their cases. These were mainly small drug charges, disturbances, and homeless sweeps. When Bianca came in holding her stomach, the judge sat up with some apparent uneasiness. The charges were read.

Stanley came forward. “Your honor. My client is, as you can see, in the last stages of pregnancy. Her only crime was not having enough money for an overpriced LA rental. She was not doing any drugs, nor violating any other laws. I ask to see her overnight drug test immediately, to confirm her innocence.”

The deputy DA waived any objection to producing the drug test and the judge asked the bailiff to inquire. Stanley imagined the DA was not looking forward to facing a new mother and her baby in an actual trial. Bianca was looking quite pale now and had to lean on Stanley’s arm and the counsel’s table.

The judge studied her. “You may sit down, ma’am. Do you need a cup of water?” She nodded yes, and the judge signaled for an officer to get it. The bailiff returned and shared the drug test results. Stanley made the case that as both the negative results and the arresting officers’ report proved that his client had not been doing drugs, she should be set free.

“Well, in consideration of this evidence,” said the deputy, “I can drop the drug charges, but we still have the matter of sleeping in an encampment within five hundred feet of a child care facility.”

Stanley looked at him. “Are you going to waste the taxpayers’ money and the court’s time on a pregnant woman, because she was living on the street?”

The DA started fidgeting. The judge seemed to want this to go away. But he needed something from Bianca. “Ma’am, if the DA dismisses all charges against you, do you have any family you could stay with?”

Bianca was clutching her stomach. She whispered in Stanley’s ear. “My father is dead; my mother lives far away; and my brothers move around all the time, so none of them can help me right now.” She turned to the judge, tears welling in her eyes. “I have no one. All I want is to be a good mom and care for my baby. I need help with a place, somewhere, anywhere...”

Stanley asked the judge for permission to approach the bench. “Don’t you see how ridiculous it is to not release this woman immediately?”

The deputy DA shook his head, then turned to the judge. “I have no choice but to pursue this. Policy from above, to clear the homeless where we can.”

The judge shifted in his seat, then looked down at Stanley. “You need to give us something else here, to make this go away.” He then signaled the lawmen to go back to their desks.

Stanley looked around and saw the distress on the faces of the court spectators. Max’s face reflected confidence and resolution. He nodded to Stanley, urging him to take action. And then something snapped.

Stanley raised his voice as he addressed the court. “She will be staying at my house until she is well and ready to take care of her own circumstances.”

The judge sat up. “Are you sure you want to take the responsibility for this woman?”

“Yes. We have a big house. The kids are off to college. Plenty of room.”

Bianca tried to wipe away her tears.

The deputy DA spoke: “In that case, and with the court’s permission, we will dismiss all charges.”

Some of the spectators voiced their approval. The judge thumped his gavel again. Bianca clutched Stanley’s hand.

* * *

Stanley was relieved that Michelle’s reaction to the surprise of Bianca and Max coming to the house was one of hospitality. She seemed touched by the strength of the young woman.

Stanley took a deep breath and then observed Michelle as she led Bianca to one of the guest rooms and gave her a set of casual clothes she had taken out of her daughter’s room. While Bianca was changing, she left the room and joined Stanley and Max in the family room. “I am sorry we barged in on you like this,” said Max. “We’re just trying to get this expectant mother situated. Your husband did a great thing today, rescuing her in court and bringing her here.”

Stanley dismissed that with a wave of his hand. The rapid pace of events had not allowed him to really consider his own actions. His life had been moving along pleasantly, and all of a sudden, he pushed it off track. Was he just acting impulsively? Actually not. He turned to Max. “Once in a while, life presents you with an opportunity to go beyond your self-interests.”

He paused to weigh his own words. But seeing how Max was receptive to what he was saying, he added: “If you step into that unchartered place, you might get a glimpse of something bigger than ordinary life. But I don’t have to tell you that.”

Max smiled. “It’s called destiny. Maybe even divine, if you are so inclined.”

They could hear Bianca scream in the guest room. They all ran in. She was propped against a chair; there was a sticky substance on the floor. She seemed frightened. “I am sorry, I messed up your floor. My water just started coming out of me.”

“Don’t worry,” Michelle said. “With my first boy, my water broke at a concert hall.” She turned to Stanley. “She’s ready to deliver. We need to take her to a hospital.”

Stanley hesitated. “There is a slight problem. She has no insurance, and they might not even take her in.”

“I’ll call Dr. Berg,” said Michelle with determined efficiency. She turned to Max. “He delivered my kids and is a neighbor. Maybe he could help here.” She assisted Bianca to the bed and brought her some water.

A little later, Dr. Berg, a man with a head of white hair and an alert face, entered the house with his wife, carrying medical bags. He quickly went to check on Bianca, and afterwards turned to the group. “This woman is fully dilated with rapid contractions. I am afraid if we try to move her, she could end up delivering in the car. Especially if we run into issues with the hospital because of the lack of insurance.”

“What about delivering here?” Stanley asked. “You have your equipment, right?” He pointed to the bags.

The doctor looked at his wife and then at Michelle. “I’ve delivered under far worse conditions. Let’s do it. And you boys” — he pointed to Max and Stanley — “bring me several pots or buckets of water and then wait outside.”

The place turned into a hub of activity, with water buckets, towels, and sheets brought in. Stanley and Max stepped out onto the patio. Max looked wistfully at a blue sky speckled with fluffy white clouds drifting lazily toward the setting sun. “You know, they say a birth gives a great blessing to a house and its inhabitants.”

“I can do with some blessing today,” said Stanley. “My recent actions have brought quite the chaos to my family.” He thought for a moment. “So what are you going to do next, Max?”

“There are more than a hundred thousand homeless people in the LA area. I think I can find something to do.”

“Maybe you should run for office. I’m sure you could do a better job than the current crop. You might bring some hope back.”

Max waved his arm. “Politics is for clowns and scoundrels. I’m better in the trenches.” He took a deep breath. “I need to set a better example, though, of how to get from here back to normal society. Maybe get my own place?”

They heard the cry of a baby. Moments later, the doctor asked them to come in. Bianca was holding the newborn, already clean and swaddled in a colorful blanket. Stanley leaned over and she handed him the tiny bundle. “Here, meet Bennie Stanley Lago. My Bennie Jr.”

Stanley held the baby. Through the open shutters, the setting sun bathed the room in red, pink, and yellow. Stanley lifted the baby, pointing him toward the window. “This is your world, Bennie. Make it a good one.”

* * *

Evening fell. Max was gone. The baby was fast asleep next to his mom.

Michelle sat down next to Stanley in the dark living room. She reminded Stanley that she had not wanted to bring that girl into their lives. He grabbed her hand. She looked away from him.

“I needed to step up. Sorry to have put you in this position.” No response. He got up and walked to the large window. He noticed that the palm trees outside cast long shadows on the patio in the faint moonlight.


Copyright © 2024 by Peter R. West

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