Meeting Titus (from journal entry July 4, 2011 / 11:21am)

Thursday night I was at the gas station on Crenshaw and Adams and a man approached my car and asked if I would let him wash my windows. I told him I didn't want the windows washed but he could pump the gas if he didn't mind.

While pumping the gas he began telling me the abridged version of his story. Former contractor, something happened, hard worker, bad luck, good luck. Now living under a bridge. "You're so beautiful, queen. I wish I still knew how to flirt. I would talk to you more if I did." I thought about how handsome the man was. About my age I'm sure. "I wish I knew you ten years ago." He said. As he spoke, I imagined who he was ten years ago. Maybe I would have given him my number. Maybe we would have dated. Maybe. But Thursday night he pumped my gas.

Inturrupting our conversation came a man in his mid to late fifties, well dressed, sporty car. "Ey! Ey! I'm on my way to the car wash to wash my cars. I'll bring 'em up here for you to wash. Stay here."

Titus, that was his name. Titus began to clean my windows even though I told him that was ok. He said that a barber down the street had cut his beard for free so he had to give something to someone else. While washing my window, I heard him talking out loud. Not to me, just out loud. "Ey!? Ey!? Don't interrupt nobody sayin' 'ey! He don't know who I am. I don't care about how many cars you need washed." I felt sorry for him. Not for Titus, but for the man. The man with multiple cars and bad manners. That man. The man who couldn't see Titus.

I gave him all the change in my car and the bill in my purse along with a plastic change holder I bought and never used. He appreciated it. All of it. As I started my car to leave he prayed for me. Out loud. For my safety, protection. He prayed for me. Titus bowed his head, closed his eyes and prayed for me.