by Dwayne Phillips
December 30, 2008 - 2008-053
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David put a can of Tomato soup on the shelf and reached down into the box for another. He fished around the bottom of the box for a few seconds before realizing that the box was empty. "Finally," thought David, "done with this." He looked down the short aisle of the Dollar Store at the two empty boxes. "Good, done with all this stuff."
"Sheila," called David aloud. "I put all the soup on the shelf. Anything else?"
"Wait a minute," answered the older woman at the cash register near the door. She finished checking out the young woman who was wrestling with a toddler, an infant, and a change purse. The young woman emptied her change purse. Her last penney paid the last cent of her purchase. The young woman with two children inside of two years walked out.
"Let's see," called the older woman now with nothing to do. She fidgeted with some papers on her checkout counter. "Okay, loaded the soup, moved all the toilet paper, and, well, that may be it." She turned towards David and shouted, "Okay, that is it for now. You can take a break for five or so while I figure what's next."
"What's next?" mumbled David quietly. "I stocked the entire store." David kicked the boxes down the aisle towards the back of the store. He pushed open the door marked "Fire Exit only" and kicked the boxes out to the alley behind the store. As usual, the fire alarm did not sound even though the sign on the door promised it would. David kept the door ajar with one foot while he held the plastic lid of the dumpster open with one hand and picked up the boxes with the other.
"Got the boxes out," said David as he walked towards Sheila. "I'll be out front for a minute." David walked past the check out register and to the glass front of the Dollar Store. He opened to exit, but waited a moment as an unshaven old man shuffled his feet and entered.
"Excuse me too," mumbled David as he stepped outside into the blazing heat of a south Alabama summer.
David looked to one side and then the other. He hoped some of his friends would be hanging out in the area, but he didn't spot anyone. A glance back into the Dollar Store revealed Shiela talking to the old man that just entered as David exited.
"What a waste," said David. David hated working afternoons at the Dollar Store. The place was dirty, smelled of damp cardboard, and everything was boring. Move the stuff from one shelf to another, fill the empty shelf from the boxes. Check off what boxes were emptied. Throw away the empty boxes. Pray for breaktime. Pray extra hard that someone would wander by during breaktime so you could talk to someone with half a brain. "What a waste," repeated David as he sat on the sidewalk at the end of the storefront. He leaned back against the rough brick of the store and closed his eyes for a moment.
"You David?" called a rough and worn voice.
"Yeah," answered David without thought, "What you need?"
"Are you David Levebre?" called the same voice.
"Yeah," repeated David. This time David opened his eyes slowly so they could adjust to the sunlight. He looked forward, then left, and finally right and up. It was the old man who hadn't shaved in a week.
David rolled to his feet and found himself looking down at the man. At one time David would have been looking up, but the pull of gravity over many years had stooped the man.
"The lady in there told me you were David Levebre. Is that right?" asked the old man as he rubbed his nose with the back of his right hand. He then held out the same hand as to shake with David. David obliged the old man with a quick hand shake. The old man showed no strength in his small, dirty hand. It finally struck David that God only knew what was on that hand. David rubbed his hand on the back of his jeans.
"Yeah, yes sir, I am David Levebre."
"I figured you would be bigger," said the old man. "I had heard that you were a big fella."
David shrugged. "What am I supposed to do?" he wondered.
"David, I am your uncle Bill."
David flashed his eyes side to side and blinked. "Uncle Bill?" he said in a half question. David faintly remembered an Uncle Bill some ten years earlier when he was four or five years old. The Uncle would drop in once a year from somewhere with a gift. David would go into his room to play with the gift. His mother would gently close the door to his room and walked away. David always heard heated exchanges through the door. The gift-and-shouting visits stopped when David was seven or eight.
"Yes, David. I am your old Uncle Bill. Do you remember me?"
"Yes sir," answered David. "I remember you...I remember an Uncle Bill. Bill was the name of my dad's brother."
"It's me, David. It's been a long time, huh?"
"Uh, yes sir," said David. David stood in uncertainty. "What am I supposed to do?" he wondered to himself. "This old guy is about the right age, but I don't know what Uncle Bill looked like back then and sure don't know what he looks like now."
"Take a little walk with me David," said the old man as he put his hand on David's shoulder and guided him down the side walk.
"Don't talk to strangers," flashed through David's mind. He and his generation had been drilled with those four words. He walked right through the warning and continued down the sidewalk with the old man. This looked safe. They were on the town's main street - its only street in the middle of the day. David wouldn't go anywhere else.
"It has been a long time since I was here," said the old man. "Do you remember me visiting and giving you little presents?"
"Yes sir, I remember an Uncle Bill and presents. You came by once a year, right?"
"Well David, most years I made it by. Sometimes I missed now and then, but most years I came by. So you do remember me."
"Yes sir, I remember. Where have you been?" asked David. "Why did I ask that?" he thought. "I don't care where he has been all these years. I'm not even sure this guy is for real. Why am I walking down the street with this guy?"
"Oh David, I have been here and there walking about the country. Never settled down like my brother your dad. Never had a steady home like you, but I have been okay."
David scanned the sidewalk in front of him and the other side of the main street. He was looking for anyone he knew. He wanted a friend to see him, to come over and talk to him and the old man.
"What do you do, I mean what have you done, or what kept you alive? What's been going on with you since..."
"Slow down David," said the old man. "Take it slower here, no need to get through life so fast."
The two walked for several minutes without a word. David still searched for a familiar face on the street. Now and then he would glance at the old man out of the corner of his eye. The old man looked familiar, well maybe a little familiar. He had blue eyes like David and David's dad, but lots of folks had blue eyes. He was about the same height as David's dad, but who wasn't? The old man was thin, much thinner than David's dad, about the same as David himself.
"Sir," said David interrupting the silence. "I have to work. I mean I have to get back to work. I've been on break for a while now and I need to get back before Shiela, I mean the manager misses me. I can't afford to lose this job. I need the money."
"Money? Oh yes," said the old man. "Money. We all need some money now and then. I myself am a bit short today. Haven't eaten yet this day. Haven't eaten since yesterday morning in fact."
"Oh no," thought David. "This is it. This old guy fingered me for a stiff and wants some money. What is this? But how did he know my name? How did he know the name of my uncle who hasn't been around since I was a kid? How did he find me? Maybe he is my Uncle Bill. Maybe he is broke and hungry. Why me? Why did he find me?"
David closed his eyes as his shoulders sank several inches.
"But that shouldn't concern you, David." said the old man. "You're working for a reason, a good reason no doubt. I'll wander about this little town and find a source of a meal. You go back to your job. It has been a pleasure to see your face and see how you have grown up so fine."
"Look take this," said David as he pushed a couple of crumped dollar bills into the old man's chest. "This is all I have on me. I'll get paid in a few days and be alright. You look like you need this now. Just don't spend it in the Dollar Store. Just keep moving or something, okay?"
The two stopped walking. They had reached the edge of the Dollar Store. The old man took the two dollars from David and slid them into his pocket. "Thank you, David. Thank you so much."
The old man turned and walked away from the Dollar Store.
David skipped quickly back into the store and turned to watch the old man. He couldn't see the old man. "Where did he go?" asked David.
"What?" answered Shiela as she looked up from her papers.
"The old man. The one who talked to you and then came out and talked to me? Where did he go?"
"Oh, that guy? I don't know. Did he talk to you? Do you know him?" asked Sheila.
"Yes, well no. I didn't know him," said David with each word uttered softer and slower than the preceding one.
"Well, go back to the back. We should have a case of peanut butter to put on the shelf in aisle three. Get to it."
David didn't answer. He found himself at the back of the store lifting a case of Jiff Creamy Peanut Butter. He turned with it to head towards aisle three. Two boys David's age blocked his way.
"Dude, who was that?" asked the smaller of the two.
"Whoa, what. Who was what?" asked David.
"That old man. That old guy walking down the street with you. Who was that?" asked the larger boy who was six and half feet and easily weighed 200 pounds.
David sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. "I don't know guys. He said he was my Uncle Bill."
"You're what?" asked the smaller and quicker of the two boys.
"My Uncle Bill. My dad's brother. My dad had a brother Bill who would blow through town every year or so. He would give me some cheap toy or something, my mom would shut me in my room, and then my dad and his brother would shout it out for a while before the door slammed and the guy would leave."
"No way man," said the smaller boy.
"Dude, you okay?" asked the larger boy.
David shrugged. "Yeah. I'm okay." David wondered if he should say anything about the two dollars and the story about not eating. He wondered if he should tell his mother or father. He quickly decided not to mention it to them. His father would kill him for being stupid.
"Look guys," said David. "I have to put this stuff on the shelf now. I spent too much time walking with that old man. Shiela gave me that look again when I came back, so get out of here. I'm off in a few hours and will catch up with you then."
"Sure, no problem," said the smaller boy. The two of them turned and walked out of the store into the heat.
The next three hours were a blur to David. The gaze of the old man, his hand on David's shoulder, the talk about being his uncle. David couldn't erase those things from his mind. He moved boxes, put cans and bottles on shelves, and swept the floor. At least he thought he did. Those things seemed to blur in his mind, but since the shelves were stocked and the floor wasn't quite as dirty as it had been, he believed he had done them. The one thing that brought him back to the old man was the feeling of an empty pocket. There had been two crumpled one-dollar bills in there at the start of the day.
"What will I do this evening?" wondered David. "My buds might have a dollar between them. Nothing for me. Why did I give that old guy my last two?"
"David." The shrill voice of Sheila brought David back to the present. "Shift is over David. See you Monday."
"Oh, yeah, sure," answered David. He took one last look about him in the store and walked out. Evening was beckoning. The sun had approached the false horizon of the town's few buildings and the air was cooler by a few degrees.
David stood on the sidewalk in front of the Dollar Store. He didn't want to walk home, but his friends were not in sight and he didn't have any alternatives. David lowered his eyes and turned to his right to start the two-mile walk home. His eyes caught a pair of Rockport walking shoes and went up to a clean-pressed pair of khaki slacks topped by a blue sport shirt. A man wearing a grin and a pair of Ray Ban aviator sun glasses stood at the edge of the Dollar Store.
"Hello David," said the man.
"Who is this guy?" thought David. "He isn't from around here. Look at the clothes, the shoes, the hair, the shades."
"Hello David," repeated the man. "Do you remember me?"
"This is too much," thought David. "This is too much for one day. Don't talk to strangers, stupid. Listen to yourself this time. Don't talk to strangers."
"Don't talk to strangers, right?" said the man. "Yes, that is what my generation has pounded into yours. And you have probably had enough strangers for a day, huh?"
David stood still. He couldn't say anything.
"I'm your Uncle Bill," said the man.
"No," shot David. "No way. No dude. No," blurted David as he backed up a couple of steps.
"Yes David," said the man. "We walked earlier today. You gave me your last two dollars. I got a couple of double cheeseburgers at the McDonald's in the next town up the Interstate with those dollars. Not real tasty, but okay. Thanks."
David stood and found himself shaking his head from side to side with both of his palms flat on top of his head.
"Then I cleaned up a bit," continued the man. "Thought I would come back and maybe we could talk some more."
"Look man, you go away. You go away right now or I'll get the cops."
"David," said the man. "There are two Sheriff deputies in this town. I spoke with both of them yesterday on the phone and just talked to them in person on the edge of town. Their names are Chambers and Anzalone. Right? They know you, know your family, know Sheila in there, too."
The man held out a cell phone. "Would you want to call them? I have them on speed dial."
"You better be careful man," warned David. Then he wondered what he would do that the man should be careful about.
"David, I came in town earlier without shaving and wearing dirty clothes. I had heard that you had grown to be strong and kind. I wanted to see that for myself. You didn't disappoint me in the least. I am proud to be your Uncle."
"I don't know you man," said David. "I'm not talking to you. I'm not going anywhere with you. You need to get out of here."
David stared at the man as hard as he could. He couldn't think of any other way to get rid of him. "Why me?" is all David could think.
David's stare was broken by an old pickup truck pulling into a parking space. All the air left David's lungs in relief. It was his dad's truck, and his dad was stepping out between David and the man. David's dad and the man exchanged glances. The man smiled a big, bright smile.
David's dad turned to him. "David," he said, "this is your Uncle Bill."
David swallowed. "Yeah," he said. "I know. I bought him lunch."
Go to
Dwayne's Home Page
Email me at
d.phillips@computer.org