What I Think at Night
- Mar 8, 2024
- 3 min read
by JD Clapp
Maria’s teeth are chattering so I’ll snuggle closer. She has my blanket already. Mom says people don’t know it’s so cold at night in LA in wintertime. If they did, they’d do something about all us homeless people. It’s worse in winter because we need to keep the windows cracked so it don’t fog up. The cops know people are sleeping in here if they see foggy windows. If they come, we gotta move and mom might get another ticket and she says we can’t pay no more goddamn fines. Plus, when them windows get all foggy you can’t see who’s outside and we could get jacked or even worse. That’s why I don’t sleep much. I watch out for us. My leg’s asleep again and the prickles kinda tickle but kinda hurt too. Plus, the seatbelt buckle is jammed into my buttcheek again. That always happens when I snuggle Maria. But it’s ok. I don’t want to move and wake her up. Mom says she needs her sleep. She says she is too skinny and them circles around her eyes might make the social work lady take us away from mom again. Then can dad find us again and we might have to go back to live with him and Cindy. Cindy hates me and Maria. But mom says don’t be worrying because we’ll find an apartment soon when the papers go through and it’s our turn on the list. If we don’t, we might live with my grandma in Fresno and go to new schools. Crap. A man with a shopping cart coming down the street. He’s yelling at someone but maybe there ain’t nobody there and he’s just crazy. Lots of them have it worse off than us mom says. Ok…good he crossed the street now. Thank Jesus. I keep tellin’ mom we need a pit bull like them kids who sleep in the tent instead of a car. Mom says it’s too much work and the car is safer than a dog and dogs cost money and them kids sell drugs, so I shouldn’t get any ideas or talk to them. Crap. I hear Maria’s belly growling. That always wakes her up. I drink lots of water to feel full. It’s a good trick but now I got to pee. Mom says I should use the pee bottle, but I always miss the opening then the kids at school say I stink like pee. Plus, the car already kinda stinks like pee. I’ll open the door to get out to pee soon when the coast is clear. Mom and Maria will wake up and Mom will be mad, and Maria will start talking and we’ll drive to school and park and wait till they open so we can get free breakfast. So, I’ll wait until I can’t hold it no more. Until I really gotta go, I’ll keep still for Maria and mom. I’ll keep watch. I can hold it long.
JD Clapp lives in San Diego, CA. His work has appeared in Cowboy Jamboree, The Dead Mule, Revolution John, Poverty House, and numerous others. In 2023, he was a Pushcart nominee in nonfiction, and had a fictional story selected as a finalist in the Hemingway Shorts, Short Story competition. He is a regular contributor to Poverty House.
