Rotten Teeth Soft Voice

Another one. Should I? he thinks.

He should, he thinks.

Again though?

Yeah. Again.

If it weren’t for the eyes it would just be the hat. It’s not even a particularly weird hat to be honest, although any hat is pretty weird on a man in spring. Is this a man, or just an old boy?

The black coat is ambiguous. Not a scary coat, but it has the potential.

To be honest it’s the posture. Actually, it’s the face. That aching, asking, awkward half-smile grimace on this tall boy with long hair and the black coat and the hat, with the eyes somehow slightly wider than is socially acceptable, and his shoulders say ‘I don’t want to bother you’. His lips say, “I’m sorry to bother you” and some people walk through in between them as the rich boy tries to stop and turn back to the tall boy with the long hair, and he sees his lips making more sounds but he can’t hear them.

That’s something unusual about him. He’s too quiet. Softly spoken so the rich boy is only gently awoken from the conversation that he had been having with his girlfriend. And he keeps on speaking and his face says ‘Look, this is as uncomfortable for me as it is for you’. His mouth says “I’m just so grateful that you’ve stopped, I’ve been out her all day.” And there’s a blackened rotten problem on his two front top teeth and its speaking volumes he doesn’t want to say. He’s talking about a hostel. A job, just in factory assembly or process, just factory. And he’s looking straight into the rich boy’s eyes and maybe its pretentious but it seems like the eyes are saying ‘Why does no one trust me?’ He gets the crumpled fiver and some pennies out of his pocket to show him, and he tells him that the woman who gave him the fiver asked him for four pounds change. He doesn’t laugh. The rich boy doesn’t either because he’s too busy being sincere but when you think about it that is pretty funny. She asked for change. Marx would have liked that one. Jesus would probably have flipped and started turning tables. Still, it’s pretty funny.

But the rich boy didn’t notice at the time. At the time he was thinking about the last time. Last night but one this guy comes up to him and says “Please don’t say no, have you got change for a pound?” And he does, and he’s a little bit frightened by the guy but he thinks he’s big and he can sort of see how you might need it so he stops and the guy keeps talking, talking, explaining and it doesn’t quite make sense and he gets his change out of his pocket and the numbers change, the guy wants the two pound coin and he can feel its going wrong but he doesn’t know how to stop it so – the guy says “What? You can give it here I’m not going to stop you and ask for your help and then just rob you am I” and so he hands over the two quid and the guy shakes his hand and just walks off. And rich boy looks at his girlfriend but not for long and they just start walking. And he hears the guy start laughing with a mate behind him. Laughing. And he thinks he shouts something after them but he’s not sure, they’re just walking away and he’s not even angry, he’s not fired up, he has no urge to kick something or scream, he just feels fucking small.

So he looks up at the tall boy and asks him how much the hostel costs. And he says its fifteen pound a week and if he’s there he has an address so he can apply for jobs. Rich boy has had his hand in his pocket since the start of the conversation but there’s only 50p in there. And he’s only got tenners in his wallet. He shows his girlfriend that he only has 50p and she opens up her bag and finds one pound fifty. So they hand him that. And he says, “Thank you”, and it sounds like he means it. Rich boy checks his wallet just to see if he has a fiver in there, he doesn’t. He holds the wallet in front of him, looks at the tenners. He looks at the tall boy with the long hair and the hat and the soft voice. No reasons go through his head just maths. He’s got seven pounds fifty, he needs fifteen. You’ve got a tenner. He hands it to him.

The tall boy is shocked. He takes it. And he smiles, and the rotten teeth come out, and he says, “I’ve got a home.” And he smiles, and he keeps on talking for a bit. They shake hands, he smiles, they say goodbye.

He might have been lying, he might spend it on crack.
But maybe trust is just a choice we have to make.

They might not keep it secret, they might not even understand.
But maybe trust is just a choice we have to make.

He might not mean it when he says it back.
But maybe trust is just a choice we have to make sometimes.