Hope for Spring by S.E. Smyth

Author:S.E. Smyth
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Coming-of-age, Coming out, Criminals, Dark, Friends-to-lovers, Homelessness, Hurt/comfort, Illness/disease, Mental illness, #ownvoices, Road trip, Soulmates, Tear-jerker
Publisher: NineStar Press, LLC
Published: 2023-02-27T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

San Francisco

I HOPPED OFF in San Francisco and intuitively knew the place held more substance, culture, and irregularity. Everyone seemed chill, and there was a dramatic absence of suits compared to, say, New York. The city was a wonderful place to be, refreshing, new, and full of character. The city became the worst and best wakeup call about street life for me.

I walked on no set path through the busy downtown. A few performance artists who worked harder than I did exhibited their talents respectably, for money. One person painted all in gold wore gold shorty-shorts and suspenders. He stood motionless, and when I least expected the statue to break, he moved and repositioned himself. Of course, he had a gold sequin hat on the ground for change. San Francisco was big business spare-changing. I didn’t know if I was ready to compete—surely, I had no gimmick.

I inevitably walked blisters into my feet seeing so much and wandering. I had no bearing by evening. I roamed to the piers and downtown to the financial district. I toured the poor neighborhoods and half decent ones alike. Shelters should’ve been abundant, but I hadn’t the faintest idea where nor the voice to ask. I didn’t run into any. Others were more deserving. I didn’t know how to get any real help, but I bet help existed in cities that encompassed more breadth like this one. Night came on quickly, and I had to make plans to sleep. San Francisco was no better than LA. I didn’t trust sleeping anywhere.

I walked into a hotel around nine o’clock p.m. and immediately wanted to sleep on the couches in the lobby. The hotel lobby showcased a large sitting area. I dropped down on the couch. The pleasant rest extended for a minute or an hour. I could not tell. Oversized armchairs with loose leather upholstery littered the room. As I pointed my head at the high ceiling and chandelier, I deflated in a long sigh. In a way, it was easy to let scenarios evolve and to figure things out as they progressed. There wasn’t always a plan or a tested scheme to get what I needed.

I went up to the desk and asked if Rich Martin had checked in. He typed into the system and scanned a few pages, clicking his mouse here and there. The hotel’s front desk attendant wore a pressed and sharp uniform. I didn’t necessarily respect a paid worker if they had an outfit. If an employee can wear whatever they want, the bosses who let that person do what they wished showed respect. If the bosses are telling a person what to wear, then those big wigs have a heavy hand on the small guy. Uniforms inherently devalue a person. “No, no, Rich Martin. Did he have reservations?”

“I thought he did,” I said. “I’m his daughter, and we were supposed to meet here. I’m just back from the Peace Corps, and we were going to run around the city before I go with him back to Palo Alto.

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