Not One of My Better Moves

Porshai did the "pee-pee" dance while we waited in the cold and nearly empty subway station. When Porshai had to "go" where there was no bathroom I told her to distract herself with dance. A homeless man who visited our church noticed me. "Hello," he said. "How are you?" I asked. "I'm hungry. Can you get me something to eat?" Usually I'd buy a sandwich but I had no money. I invited him home. "I can fix you something to eat." The wind whipped against us as the subway train arrived. Porshai danced and sang, "Mommy, I still have to pee." He rode the train with us, sitting to my left while Porshai whined and danced to my right. "We are almost home," I told her. I thought, "This isn't one of my better and brighter ideas." We exited the subway station and walked to my building. We were at the front door. I couldn't change my mind now. I unlocked the door. I invited him to have a seat. I turned on the television for him. I boiled a pack of hot dogs and heated a can of baked beans. I served him a plate, and did the same for Porshai. I didn't eat. I was too worried about how I was going to tell him that he had to leave. I hoped he would gladly get up and leave after he ate. But he didn't. He got comfortable. He took off his shoes. His feet smelled like sewer and vomit. The entire apartment stunk. After tucking Porshai into bed, I phoned my best friend. We had just had an argument. But if anyone could get him and his feet out of my home it was she. "Susan," I meekly said. "What do you want?" she asked with attitude. "You know the homeless guy, Larry?" "Yes," I explained. She laughed. "I'm on my way." I went into the living room and waited for Susan. After I buzzed in Susan, she greeted him, and nicely asked him to put on his shoes. He did. Then she said, "Larry, it's getting late. It's time to go." He got up and left. I opened the windows and lit a candle. Susan laughed at me for hours. It wasn't one of my better moves.