Honour Among Pigeons

Honor Among Pigeons

After years on the street, she had forgotten her given name. There, people called her lady, or hey you. Others completely bypassed such formalities.

During her seven years on the street, she had somehow forgotten her given name. There, people called her lady, or hey you. Others completely bypassed such formalities. That was okay, she never did care for people to know her business.

The streets had not always been her home. She grew up in a house the way most people did, with a mother, father, and an older sister. Later, she received an Associates Degree from a secretarial school and it hung on the wall in her own home. She lived in a nice condo, not too far from Lake Michigan, in Chicago. Things were good then, and her boyfriend even asked her to marry him. Of course, she said yes and they planned a June wedding.

That was before her life fell apart. No, her life didn't fall apart. Someone tore it to shreds. Someone she dedicated twelve years to as an executive secretary. A man she had trusted completely, a man with connections to every big shot in the city—including the mob. She had not known about the mob or a great many other things until that final year.

Strangers began coming to the office and anonymous letters arrived. When she opened them, she was shocked. People threatened to kill her boss for the terrible things he had done. She decided not to show him, but instead kept a folder in her locked desk drawer. She also decided to do a little investigating on her own. Before long, she found out things that made her wonder how she could have been so blind. One word described him, crook. An attorney who advertised his commitment to help the poor and downtrodden and he stole from almost every one of them.

Not sure what to do, she finally confronted him. She took the folder from her drawer into his office and threw it on his desk. "You're stealing from these people."

He laughed. He looked at her and laughed. "That's right, honey, that's how you make those big condominium payments every month." She stared. Was he the same man she had worked for all those years? She told him she could not be a part of it and that she would go to the police. He found that even funnier. "You go ahead, go to the cops, for all the good it will do you." Then his face grew stern. "You tell anyone anything, and as long as I'm alive you'll never have a job in this city."

She left the office and went to the police. He had been right about their reaction and he made good on his threat. He not only fired her, but also slowly began to dismantle her life.

He had somehow been able to get a completely bogus story into the newspaper about her selling drugs from her home. With his power and influence, he convinced the condo organization to repossess it and throw her out. Another newspaper picked up the article but added another charge. They said she often entertained male visitors there to supplement her income. She was grateful her parents were not alive to see it, but her fiancé and her sister read the paper. Though they said they knew it could not be true, her boyfriend took an extended vacation, and her sister suggested she not come over. She worried about her kids.

He had someone follow her, and that person thwarted every action she took. She answered a number of ads, but no one would even give her an initial interview. Living in hotels was expensive and she could no longer afford a room. Without an income, her wardrobe began to deteriorate. Within a few months, she found herself living on the street. She thought it would be temporary, that she would find work and be able to afford an apartment. She stayed at a women's shelter for a while, but most of the other women were in much worse shape and she gave up her bed.

For seven years, she wandered around the city streets. She climbed the steep sharp rises under viaducts, hauling her belongings and cardboard to make a noisy, exhaust fumed shelter for the night. The climb created thick calluses on her hands and watching babies being born under those viaducts created thicker calluses on her heart. The hardships began to wear on her.

She imagined herself crossing back and forth between indefinable realities. There were days when she thought she might have been a pigeon, because they were her only companions. The world she knew pushed her away and she had little strength left to fight.

Then she saw him, and as though it were yesterday she remembered his words—‘as long as I'm alive you'll never have a job in this city.'

He looked right at her and had no idea who she was. "Got a quarter, mister?" She asked, holding out a hand he would have only recognized if it were soft and pink with long red fingernails. He pulled a dollar from his pocket and threw it in her direction. She laughed and knew it sounded insane, but that was what she felt—completely insane. Now, she had a purpose.

It proved easy to follow him because she made an unlikely looking spy. She watched him leave the office every evening at 7:45 as he had done when she worked for him. He climbed the stairs to the LaSalle Street Station and waited to board the 8:01. The elevated trains were very punctual. Not only was her boss a precise man, he was also a skinflint. He wouldn't drive to work or take a cab. He took public transportation almost everywhere.

She knew the man. She knew he hated dirt and could not tolerate being touched. That would be to her advantage. For nearly a month, she followed him and worked on her plan. Then the time arrived to carry it out.

On Fridays, many of the people waiting for the train were zombies. Few did anything but look down the curve in the track, anxious to hear the sound of steel wheels screeching to take them home for the weekend.

She sat on the far end of the platform with all her worldly possession. He always boarded the last car. She looked around at her pigeon friends on the ground and up on the railings. Some just floated along overhead. She winked and then smiled as he approached. "Got a quarter, mister?"

When he pulled out his wallet with his back to the tracks and she stood and faced him. "Do you remember me?"

He looked at her blankly. "What the..." His wallet fell from his hands and his eyes went to the shoulder of his jacket where a pearly white line of pigeon shit rolled down the dark blue material.

"Here, I'll wipe that off for you." She took a piece of clothing from her bag and walked toward him. He stepped back and leaned over the tracks to keep away from her touch. She came even closer.

"Get away from me." His eyes opened wide in sudden recognition. "You're...ah," was all he said as the train pulled into the station.

"I'm Katherine, you bastard." She smiled.



"Officer, I don't know what happened. A pigeon pooped on his suit and I offered to clean it off. All of a sudden, he screamed and seemed to leap backwards as the train came. I couldn't help him."

"All right, lady." The officer looked at her and shook his head. "You can go. We won't need your testimony. We get a lot of jumpers up here."

"I'm Katherine," she told him and walked to the park, stopping for some bread on the way. The pigeons were at the bench as she sat down and flipped his wallet in the air. "Lots to eat tonight, kids. Tomorrow, I buy some clothes and rent a room at the Y. I have to get ready for my job interviews."