Love Without a Home. Shari Mong

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      Surviving a shot to the head, he lost some of his vision and was unable to work. He would wake up many mornings with headaches and sometimes even migraines. However, he did not have the insurance to see a doctor. He had come back to New York to find his wife gone. She had cleaned out his savings and left him with nothing. She had left a note and divorce papers for when he arrived home from the war. She had run off with his best friend.

      After his time in the hospital, and after his release, he had made his home on the streets of New York. Many people just walked by and did not give him a second glance; many would put money in his tin can to get him through another day.

      He would sleep under the bridge and then find a street to make his money. He survived sleeping in the cold desert nights by his jeep with the clothes on his back and his gun to his side. He would wake up in the hot Afghanistan weather to be ready for his mission.

      He would trudge up mountains in pursuit of the Taliban. He never complained, for he knew what he had signed up for. While many Americans back home were either sleeping in their warm beds, sitting at the dinner table ready to eat a hot meal, going on vacation, or having a family night, Kyle would be deep in the heart of Afghanistan fighting, and protecting the very freedoms that so many of us take for granted.

      He had served his country and hell is what he had come back to. It was not fair, but Kyle made the best of what he had left. He headed to pick him up a few cheeseburgers and a shake. He had been craving that all day. He asked the waitress for some extra buns that they would just throw out. He said he would pay for them.

      She was a kindly woman in her mid-sixties and just gave him the bread. She had seen him many times and felt sorry for him. He had told her his story and she had thanked him for his service and there would be tears coming from her eyes.

      “Thank you ma’am, for the bread, now the birds will eat again.” Kyle said kindly.

      “You’re welcome my dear.” Mildred Hirth smiled through her grandma glasses. Mildred took the tips she had made today and gave some to Kyle.

      “I do not want your tips Mildred. You worked hard for those.” Kyle said his eyes watering.

      “Not near what you have worked Kyle to protect our freedoms. What you have done for us is priceless.” She put the money in his hand. Mildred had never married and had no family. She lived in a tiny one bedroom apartment upstairs from the hamburger shop.

      “Have a nice evening, Mildred,” Kyle hugged her.

      “You too dear Kyle, I love you as my son.” Kyle was thirty-nine and Mildred had loved him like a son. There were times when Mildred and Kyle would talk after Mildred’s shift.

      Mildred watched him walk out the door and back to where he would be spending another night. Her heart ached for him and wished that he could have a better life than the one he was handed.

      Kyle sat down on the bench and started feeding the birds. He tried not to ponder on how his life ended up like this. He just spent every day doing the best he could to survive.

      *****

      Elisa was finishing her bath and was getting dressed for her date with Guy Drakes. She had chosen an off the shoulder cocktail dress that accentuated her features and figure. It was red and had a slit clean up to her hip on her left side. She had worn the necklace, earrings and bracelet that Guy had given her from his store when they met in London.

      She had her auburn hair swept up and donned with sparkling jeweled hair pins; also a gift from Guy. She wore her satin high heels and did her make up that made her violet eyes stand out more. She put on her expensive perfume that she got while in London. She took a once over in her full length mirror and was satisfied with the results.

      Her housekeeper hollered up that Mr. Drakes was here to see her. “Thank you Cora, I will be down.” Elisa grabbed her diamond studded hand bag and headed down the steps. Guy had his back turned, looking through the Pose magazines on her table in the hall.

      He turned around as she came down. “My oh my,” Guy said, “You look like an Audrey Hepburn or a Bettie Davis, no my Mon Cherie, you look better than them.” Elisa smiled feeling herself being subdued by warmth. Guy grabbed her hand and kissed it. “Shall we, I have made reservations at New York’s finest restaurant; nothing but the best for my Cherie.”

      Cora bid them farewell and would lock up when she was done. Guy and Elisa walked out into the cool night air to the limousine waiting in front of her townhouse. “Your carriage awaits my dear.” Guy opened the door for her and she slipped in. He got in beside her and they took off. The restaurant where he was taking Elisa knew Guy real well and would make him reservations at the last minute. Even if they were booked up, they would find a way to get him in.

      They got to the restaurant and they were taken right to their table. It was Guy’s usual spot where he took all his dates. It was cozy and private, away from the eyes of the other patrons. They sat down and Guy ordered from the waiter their most expensive bottle of wine. “So how are things going with work and you, my dear?” Guy took her hand and kissed it.

      “Busy as usual, I have the spring show in Paris in seven months and I had a meeting with my staff. I told them to start with the designs for the spring line and from there I would pick whose was the best, and I would take them with me to Paris. I gave them a month to do it. I am having my photographer right now getting the winter magazine in gear. Otherwise, I am doing fine.”

      “You are such a workaholic my Cherie.” Guy smiled not taking his eyes off of her.

      “It is a competitive business, the fashion industry. Just as your jewelry business is competitive against other jewelry stores.” Elisa told him taking a sip of her wine.

      “You are right on that my dear, but I also take the time to enjoy what free time I do have.” The waiter came back and asked if they were ready to order. Elisa ordered the duck with wine sauce, the mixed vegetables, and a salad. Guy ordered his usual of lamb rare with very little mint sauce, caviar and asparagus. The waiter took their order and left.

      “Well, my free time” Elisa said swirling her wine in her glass, “is spent looking at photo shoots and designs. I did not get to be Chief Editor of Pose Magazine by taking numerous vacations, being a wallflower on the wall, not keeping my opinions to myself. I am a go getter, I am a perfectionist, I do not take anything less than the very best, and I keep up with the fashion industry and what my competition is doing. When I am at work, I do not partake in pleasure mixing with business. I do not placate my competitors and I do not allow failure.”

      “I am sorry my Cherie, I did not mean to espouse that hard work does not pay off or make you successful, quite the contrary.”

      “No, you are right Guy,” Elisa interrupted him, “I do engross myself in my work, but I had to grow up fast and realized that if you want to make it in this world you have to be aggressive and cut throat. My father walked out on my mother and left her to raise two girls alone and work two jobs. I vowed that I would not become like that.

      “I made a promise to myself that I would go out and pursue my dreams of fashion and not let anything hold me back. I would always read fashion magazines and see the clothes that I wish I could have, or the kind of clothes that I could design that would one day make a mark on the fashion world, and models would wear down the runway. I accomplished all that Guy and then I went into the business aspect of design and here I am.”

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