Walter

A very brief story about a very unlikely friendship

Walter

You don’t know Walter and I barely do.

For the past year or so, he has hung out down the street from where I live in Catskill, New York – usually in front of the bodega, though sometimes it was the used book store or coffee shop.

In the beginning, when I approached where he was standing, Walter would ask me for a dollar which I gladly gave him, he obviously needing the money more than I did.

Then he started asking for two.

“Inflation, Walter?” I would ask, with a smile.

Then he would laugh, giving me a terrorist fist bump as I gave him two singles.

After about the tenth time I passed Walter, it dawned on me that what he really wanted was someone to talk to. That’s it. Someone to talk to. Asking for money was the only way he knew to break the ice.

That’s when Walter and I began our ongoing series of conversations. About his diabetes. About his meds. About his ex-girlfriend who committed suicide 15 years ago. About his social security check that somehow got lost in the mail.

And whatever else was up for him that day.

Sometimes, Walter and I would hug each other before either of us said a single word. Sometimes, we’d…