This is love

TWENTY

“Thank you.” He mumbles deeply, barely raising his attention as I set the steaming hot latte in front of him and take a seat cautiously. I eye him, my heart clenching at his scruffy exterior. A world away from his neaty groomer self. Old self. I hold my cup of tea, sinking back with a light head. 

Julian was always perfectly polished, dressed in the latest trends without a crease in his shirts or a scuff in his shoes. His beard was groomed into a perfect straight line, his hair never missing it’s weekly trim. He was a catwalk model even when he was only nipping to run errands, and never skipped a day of flaunting his sassy sense of impeccable style. 

Now, he sat across from me in a filthy, mucky puffer jacket and a pair of dark jeans with rips and tears that I was certain wasn’t part of the fashion. He was covered in dirt, hands black like a coal miner and face like a chimney sweep. His hallowed eyes lacked any sort of emotion, the usual sparkle dim. It was like he was a shell of himself. 

I clear my throat. “Want to talk about it?” 

Truthfully, by the look of him huddled embarrassed in the chair he picked furthest away from any sort of social attraction with the zipped of his jacket pulled to his chin and his eyes flickering up at any noise with his back hunched and slightly turned inwards to face the wall, it was the last thing he wanted to talk about. But I needed answers. 

He didn’t. 

I bite my lower lip, setting my tea down and leaning forward slightly. I could smell the stench. He no longer smelled of Dior or Gucci. More like dirty cigarettes and stale beer. 

“What the hell happened, Julian?” I asked. He was quiet again and still didn’t look up. I sighed, the urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake the truth for him was strong. Here he was, one of my best friends and an even better employee once upon a time, and now he sat in tattered clothes and smelling of a street sewer. “I have every reason possible to walk out of here right now, to leave you sitting here and not look back. I’m giving you a chance, Julian. I’m not willing to give up on you but you need to help me here.” 

The way his fingers trembled and his lip quivered, he was quick to wipe away the shadow of a tear that slipped from his eye. My heart broke all over again. I wanted to reach out and grab him, hug him like he had hugged me during my tough times. 

“I’m not really sure what to say.” He finally rasped out. 

My eyes softened. “I don’t mean to judge, but - you’re homeless? When? How?” 

“A while. When the divorce papers were served I guess.” He mutters. “Adam had moved out. My drinking got out of control. When you kicked me to the kerb, things just went further downhill. I lost days, then weeks. I forgot about the rent, the landlord changed the locks when I was out at a bar one night and that was it I guess. I was too drunk to care - too heartbroken to care. I took refuge in a hostel for a few nights, then got kicked out of there for being too drunk and disorderly. Spent a few nights in a cell, even got into trouble a few times willingly because I knew I’d get to sleep on a mattress instead of a doorway even if it was on a floor.” 

I stare at him with tear filled eyes as he stares at the table with the weight starting to lift from his chest. 

“My parents passed away.” He whispered. “Back in January. Dad caught pneumonia, he fought for four days in ICU. My mom passed the night after he died. Natural causes, they said. I think it was a broken heart. She couldn’t live without her soulmate. Forty-four years, gone within a blink of an eye. She didn’t want to live without him.” 

“Jul..” 

He wipes his cheeks furiously. “I went to their funeral, walked from here to Brooklyn. Drunk. Drunk, at my own parents funeral. Who even does that? The look on my sister's face’s - God. There’s no words.”