Page 11 of Home With You

"How many kids do you have?"

"Three. Two boys, nine and six, and Macie. She's four. Anyway, I hired this nanny last month and she can't even remember the simplest things. She reminds me of my ex. He couldn't remember anything either. Why do people have to be so incompetent?"

"Spare change, miss?" a man says to her as we wait at the intersection. I look down and see a homeless guy on the ground, leaning against the building. He's right next to Lisa, holding a plastic cup up to her.

"Get a damn job like the rest of us," she says as she shoves her phone in her purse.

The light changes and we cross the street. I assume she's picked a place for lunch. She's walking fast, like she knows exactly where we're going.

"Lot of homeless around here," I say, noticing them on both sides of the street.

"I hate it. I wish the city would do something about it."

"Like what?"

"Take them somewhere so we don't have to deal with their harassment every day."

"The guy just asked for money. He wasn't really harassing you."

We stop at another intersection and her head whips toward me. "Don't tell me you're one of those idiots who wants to hand out money to all the people too lazy to actually go out and get a job."

I'm not sure how to respond to that. I wasn't trying to start an argument with her.

Luckily the light changes and we cross the street. She turns left and I follow her, passing by two more homeless guys.

"Those men we just passed are perfectly capable of working," she says. "And yet they sit on the street every day asking for money, expecting people like me to support them while they lounge around doing nothing." She opens the door of a small deli. "We're eating here."

We go inside and get in line.

"I hate waiting." She gets out her phone. "This line better move fast."

As we're waiting, one of the homeless guys we passed on the street walks in and heads to the restroom.

Lisa glances up from her phone and notices him. "They always do this. They come in and use the restroom and never buy anything. The restrooms should be for paying customers only. Do you really want to use a restroom after a homeless person's been in there?" She huffs. "Disgusting."

"If they don't use the restroom, they'll go on the street or in the park. Isn't that worse?"

"That's the point I was making earlier. They shouldn't be here. The city needs to get kick them out."

We're at the front of the line now and she places her order. "Pastrami on rye with a thin layer of mustard. And by thin, I mean I should be able to see the bread. If there's more than that, I'll make you redo it."

The young girl behind the counter nods. "Yes, ma'am. Anything else?"

"Iced tea, and don't fill the glass with ice. It waters it down. Half ice. Got it?"

The girl nods again. She seems nervous. I feel the same way. Just a few minutes with Lisa has made me nervous and uptight. I'm not even hungry anymore.

"I'll have pastrami as well," I tell the girl, adding a smile to help put her at ease. It doesn't seem to help. She keeps glancing at Lisa like she's afraid of her.

Once we're seated with our sandwiches, Lisa says, "The girl behind the counter should be fired. She's worked here for over a year and I still have to remind her about the mustard."

"I'm sure she sees a lot of people a day," I say, noticing how the place is packed and there's a line out the door. "It's probably hard to remember everyone's order."

Lisa smirks. "Aren't you sweet? You should've chosen a different career."

"What do you mean?"

"To be a lawyer, you have to be a shark, not a goldfish. You have to demand people treat you the way you want to be treated. You trust no one and you assume everyone has a motive. People lie. Cheat. Steal. It's a sick world and we're just here to make money off it."

---