99 Cents of Grace

Saw a guy on line at the 99 Cents store last night. He was next in line after a friend of mine. Watching me. Maybe wondering if I was trying to cut in front of him as I temporarily stood next to, and was talking to, my friend. Except there was no hostility in his eyes. Which were blue. Extremely.

He was the kind of guy who always makes me think how much easier it would be if I looked like him. It. Life. The struggle to find work. Would I be standing in a 99 Cents store, debating whether or not I should walk down the chocolate aisle (can I really afford to splurge...) if I was tall and blonde and strikingly handsome? This guy, if he's an actor, could walk into any casting office and find work in no time at all. This guy is exactly the type everyone wants. This guy does not even need to be talented. At all. He just needs to look like that.

After a few moments, not wanting to give the impression that I was staying in my temporary spot next to my friend who was legitimately waiting in line, I wandered half committedly into the chocolate aisle. Let's see, I've got a bottle of detergent, so I don't have to keep borrowing a capful from a roommate. Six cans of low sodium V-8, to replace six meals I won't have to conjure up with ingredients I don't have. One or two other items chosen with equal frugality. There will be enough room in my environmentally friendly save a tree and don't put plastic in the earth canvas bag, but can I really afford that extra dollar for chocolate when there are unpaid bills which cannot be, and will have to stay that way?

A master of imperviousness when confronted with marketing geared toward impulse buying, I walk away chocolate less and get in line behind the strikingly handsome guy who is not looking at me with hostility in his eyes. My own drift down to his sneakers. Something is wrong. They look not right. Nor do his jogging pants. The tee poking out from under the sweat. He does not look clean, this handsome actor who could easily find work.

I have the strange idea that he may be homeless, and watch for him as I leave the store. There he is a bit farther down the sidewalk, going through his purchases with his own pal, who is quite obviously homeless. Perhaps the handsome one was more presentable, and so went into the store while his friend waited outside.

My god. This handsome could easily be a working actor man. Him, there on the sidewalk outside the 99 Cents store lighting a cigarette. I suppress the sardonic urge to comment on how only in LA could a homeless man look like that. I suppress the disconnected recollection that I am looking for a new roommate. I suppress the slightly reprimanding thought that with his looks he should be struggling less than I am, not more.

I get into my ten year old car, with a prayer the weak battery will allow the engine to start. Then another for him. A third that the needle isn't really on "e" as I drive home, grateful that I have one.