Smitty and Lydia, 8/10/77

Another of Dumont's short stories, this one about some characters named Smitty and Lydia.

August 10, 1977
Smitty was having a birthday so Lydia made some hobo cookies from soggy day-old bread and sugar packets left to bake on a flat rock in the hot summer sun. These were better than the last batch because they contained bits of Hersey Bar liberated from a bodega on 67th Street. Lots of sugar too. And they had beer.

"Homeless junky" is one tough gig but Smitty had gotten used to the long hours and low wages. Having a partner like Lydia helped even though deep down they knew that it wouldn't last. They had met in late spring of that year at the Social Club, a title Smitty had given to the soup kitchen they frequented in Hell's Kitchen near 42nd Street. All homeless junky couples seemed to meet there. Stop in for some soup, a place to sit down and wham, someone to hang out with on the street for a couple of weeks.

They say that misery loves company but for the truly miserable, the comfort of company only lasts so long. Eventually the look of misery on your partners face becomes too much, a reflection of yourself that is too painful to bear. And then it's bye bye.

But this was a salad day sitting in Central Park on a summer day with a handful of sweet cookies and a thankful breeze. Smitty felt himself smile earnestly for the first time in months. He was giddy inside. He and Lydia sat out all afternoon making fun of people, laughing and joking, and drinking their beers until the sun went down.

But it wouldn't last. Several weeks later the hard rains of late summer hit. Smitty and Lydia found themselves fighting over a ten dollar bill while soaking wet on Fifth Avenue across from the park. She tried to stab him with a fork... he punched her... and that was that. Smitty spent the next two days in jail and Lydia was gone. Next time he saw her at the soup kitchen she was with Otis. She passed him by without a glance.