1 Chapter 1

I sat at what had become my spot, a small wooden bench on Kite Hill overlooking the city. In the distance, the pride flag stood tall and proud at the corner of Market and Castro. I watched with deepening sadness as the flag twisted and turned in the bay breeze. The cooling temperatures of the day meant only one thing to the residents here, the end of summer. For me, it meant the end of my extended stay; the end of what had become one of the happiest times of my life.

I never meant for any of it to happen. After all, I had someone waiting for me back home. But something happened to me the day I stepped off the plane three months ago. I don’t know if it was, perhaps it was the ocean air or the electrifying energy of the city. More than likely it was my own loneliness for never having made the life for myself I had always dreamed of. Whatever it was, fate, destiny, or some other circumstance, it let me forget my life back home.

As I sat on the bench, our bench, the realization that our time was gone hit me like a runaway train. I was alone with only the warmth of his kiss lingering on my lips to comfort me. In the dread of loneliness, I wasn’t sure if I could board the plane and go home. We had already said our goodbyes and had one last cry in each other’s arms. But as the taxi drove away with him inside of it, I knew there was one last goodbye I had to make—Kite Hill. It was the only place I wanted to be, the only place where I thought I could make my peace. I had spent almost every night here. The only difference was I was staring off at the city below me without him by my side. I looked over at the empty space on the bench. I reached out and ran my fingers over the rough, weathered surface of the wood where he used to sit holding my hand. I closed my eyes hoping to feel his presence held within the grains of wood. Tears filled my eyes. I opened them, and I stared out across Market Street. I wondered where he was, and if he was thinking of me and missing me like I was him. A twinge yanked at my heart with the thought of him alone in the city. My mind drifted off to the day we met.

* * * *

It was my first day of what was to be a three-month business trip. After getting settled into the apartment I had rented in the Mission, I made my way into the Castro. It was late afternoon, and the Castro was already in full swing with the beginning of the weekend. The sun had already warmed the day. From over the hills, I could see the edge of the summer fog beginning to roll in for its evening visit. Soon it would blanket the city with its cooling touch. As I sat in the upper loft of Twin Peaks, I looked out of the small window as people came out of the Castro Street Muni Station. It was then I noticed him for the first time, just below my little window.

He was sitting on the sidewalk with his back against the glass of the bus stop. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him from the minute I saw him. I’m not sure what came over me, all I know is in a split second my world changed, and my heart went out to him—he was homeless. His face was ashen and dull. His hands appeared rough and covered in the grime of the city. His ragged clothes hung from his thin body. His jeans, ripped in the crotch, exposed his red-flannel boxers. Both knees were visible through the thin, unraveled denim. A long gash in his jeans exposed his leg, which appeared bruised and scarred through the coarse dark hair.

He smiled and greeted everyone on the sidewalk. As the passed him he asked them for any spare change, food, or a cigarette. He wasn’t obnoxious or aggressive in his manners like many of the homeless. In fact, he sounded well mannered. Almost embarrassed by his situation and need for help. Despite his casual, non-threatening behavior, everyone ignored him. They glanced his way but turned their heads as if he was nothing but uneducated street trash. Behind the filth and rough exterior, his smile gave him a youthful look. An expression of lost innocence and hope hid there as well.

I’m not sure how long I sat watching him. For me, it was as if time had completely stopped. For all I knew it could have been as short as five minutes, or as long as an hour. I felt as if I was in a strange time warp where I stood still and everyone and everything else continued to move around me. The young man’s expressions and movements told stories no words could ever do justice. As I watched the display of disrespect, a warm sensation blossomed in the pit of my stomach. It filled me with feelings and emotions I had thought I had left behind, somewhere in the past. Lost in the memories of times forgotten.