Free Cry Baby by David Jackson

singing. She halts and tries to make her eyes see through the gloom.
    From out of the shadow of a tree he appears. A homeless guy, looking big and burly in the many layers of old clothing he wears. He’s pushing a shopping cart ahead of him, piled with all kinds of crap.
    Erin glances up and down the street, checking for onlookers. Nobody is here to see. She steps off the curb. Starts to walk toward him. He continues to shuffle along, one leg moving more stiffly than the other. As she gets closer, she realizes he is singing lines from ‘Camptown Races’:
    ‘I bet my money on a bob-tailed nag, someone bet on the gray.’
    It is only when she steps onto the sidewalk that he notices her. He stops moving, stops singing. Just stares wide-eyed at this figure homing in on him from out of the darkness.
    When she gets within a few feet of the man, she is able to get a better look at him. He is black, somewhere in his sixties. His round face is cracked and grainy, like old leather. There is a tuft of white hair on his chin, and he wears a baseball cap. His bulky coat is tied up with TV cable, its frayed ends showing the metal core.
    ‘Oh, yes,’ says the voice. ‘Now you’re talking. Perfect, Erin. Absolutely perfect.’
    She continues to stand and watch the man, and he stares back.
    ‘What could be better? Nobody will miss him. Plus, you get to rid the streets of another vagrant. That’s so great, Erin. I admire your thinking.’
    She says nothing. She wants to say no, this isn’t the one, and then to move on. But she can’t. She can’t because part of her is thinking yes. If I have to kill someone, if I really have no choice in that matter, then shouldn’t it be someone who has no attachments? Someone who makes no contribution to society? Someone who is, in fact, a nuisance and a blight on this city? I could keep on going. I could walk all night long and not find a more suitable candidate. Isn’t this a no-brainer?
    The man opens his mouth. ‘I bet my money on a bob-tailed nag,’ he sings to her, but in a more subdued voice now. ‘Somebody bet on the gray.’
    ‘Camptown Races,’ she says.
    He narrows his eyes. ‘Some know it as Camptown Ladies.’
    ‘Yeah?’
    He nods. ‘Because of the way it goes. The Camptown Ladies sing this song.’
    ‘Doo-dah. Doo-dah.’
    He nods again. ‘You know it?’
    ‘I know it.’
    She thinks, Why am I doing this? Why am I even speaking to this guy?
    But she knows why. She knows what beginning she is creating here, and what ending it will surely give rise to.
    ‘Who are you?’ asks the man.
    ‘Just a passing stranger,’ she answers.
    ‘’Cept you’re not passing. You’re here, on my doorstep.’
    ‘Your doorstep?’
    He gestures at the space around himself. ‘It’s the only home I got.’
    She reaches up and pushes an imaginary doorbell. ‘Ding-dong.’
    He pulls his head back in surprise, then gradually lets his neck muscles unwind again.
    ‘What you doing out here, girl?’
    She shrugs. ‘Walking. Thinking. Dreaming.’
    ‘Dreaming ’bout what?’
    ‘Getting my family back.’
    She knows it’s a surprise answer, and she watches him chew on it for a while.
    ‘That’s a good ambition. Family’s important. Prob’ly the most important thing on this earth.’
    ‘You got family?’
    He pauses again, then looks up to the sky. When he lowers his eyes again, she can swear they are glistening.
    ‘Once. Long time ago.’
    ‘What happened?’
    ‘ Erin, what the hell are you doing? Waste the stinking hobo, and let’s get you the fuck out of there.’
    ‘I forget,’ says the homeless guy, but it’s obvious that he hasn’t forgotten. He reverts swiftly to his questioning: ‘Girl, what are you doing?’
    ‘I… I needed someone,’ she answers. ‘And then you came along.’
    ‘Me? I can’t help you. I can’t help nobody. You should go now. Leave me be.’
    ‘What if I think you can? What if I say you could be the only person on this earth who is able to