Then There Was You(73)
“New York pizza it is, then.” He grinned, happy to please me. “Corner of Spring and Mott, please,” he told the taxi driver, then turned his attention back to me. “Lombardi’s. Oldest pizzeria in America.”
“Sounds great.” Honestly, pizza was the last thing on my mind, but I couldn’t keep the cheesy grin off my face.
The cab driver dropped us off. The red awning above the door and windows boasted ‘Best on the Planet.’
“You ready to taste a little bit of heaven on earth?” Chris rubbed his hands together, ready for me to experience this.
The scent of garlic and onion wafted through the air. It smelled delicious. “Absolutely,” I told him, my stomach grumbling at just the right time.
The restaurant was crowded, but there were still a couple of tables available. The red and white checkered table cloths reminded me of a little pizzeria back home. The cozy atmosphere was so inviting, and the smell of fresh, coal, oven-baked dough and garlic made my mouth water.
Chris’s eyes were much bigger than his stomach, so he ordered a small Margherita pizza and a small pepperoni with sweet Italian sausage. I took pictures of each pie and texted them to Alexis.
Me: Best on the planet, they say.
When the pizzas arrived, I stuffed a bite of cheesy gooey paradise into my mouth. ‘Heaven on earth’ was an understatement. This stuff was legendary.
We spent the meal ‘mmming’ and chewing and enjoying peaceful nirvana through our palates.
We both made a good run of it, trying to devour it all, but between the two of them, we had a whole pizza leftover.
Chris boxed up the slices and paid the bill. As we walked down the sidewalk toward the subway, we saw a homeless man leaning against the bricks. The man had a small, shaggy dog curled up in his lap. A cardboard sign lay next to him behind a plastic cup that read:
Vietnam Vet. Please Help.
It broke my heart. “You don’t see that every day where I live,” I whispered sadly to Chris.
The man wore a pair of dingy jeans that were frayed and covered in holes. They looked to be losing some stitching along the seams. A dirty jacket cloaked his shoulders. His feet were stuffed into a pair of old sneakers, the rubber soles peeling off at the toes. The thing that stuck out to me the most though, was that he had no socks. It was chilly, and this man had nowhere to go—no blanket… no socks.
Chris walked up to the man and squatted down in front of him. “Sir?” he asked tentatively. The homeless man’s head hung down with his eyes closed. With a snort, he immediately snapped it up and looked at Chris.
“You hungry, sir?” Chris asked, holding out the box of pizza.
The man nodded vigorously, and Chris handed him the box.
A wide, nearly toothless grin spread across his face. “Bless you, son,” he croaked.
Chris reached out and petted the dog. The brown, wiry-haired mutt wagged his tail in response. Immediately, the man took out a slice and tore it into bits on the ground. “Here you go, Buster. Eat up, now,” he told the dog.
Buster hopped out of the man’s lap and wolfed down the morsels, licking his chops as soon as it was all gone.
It touched me so deeply. I stood back, my eyes brimming with tears. A man who fought for our country sat on the busy streets of New York City, alone and hungry. It was a shame. I knew there were scammers— panhandlers who stood on the streets all day begging for money when they probably brought home more money than I did. But this guy… there was something about him. The look in his eye, the sound of his voice. This guy was destitute—desperate. And Chris, the kid who grew up rough and remembered those days when his mom struggled to make ends meet when his dad was in prison, stooped beside him and spoke to him the same way he talked to his fans, focusing only on him as if he were the most important person on the planet at that moment.
They whispered quietly to each other for a few minutes while the man devoured two slices of the pizza. I stood back and watched the entire scene play out. I saw Chris discreetly slip him a folded bill as he shook his hand and thanked him for his service in the military.
The man’s unfocused blue eyes sparkled, his aged hands shaking as he patted Chris’s shoulder. “Thank you, son. Those were some of the best and worst days of my life, but I love our country and I’d do it all over again if given the chance. God bless you. You and your wife.” He pointed a gnarled finger in my direction.
Chris glanced back at me, but didn’t correct him. “Take care of yourself Sergeant Mathers. And Buster. Stay warm,” he said as he stood to his feet.
“We will. Thank you, rock star,” the man said with a wink as Buster curled back up in his lap. The man laid his head back against the wall and tucked his hand with the folded money into the inner pocket of his jacket.