Moments: “You Have Two Weeks”
Two policemen walk from their unmarked car towards two homeless men sitting on the curb on the busiest street in Williamsburg. An open beer can that’s disguised with a brown paper bag sits in front of them. One of the homeless men, the skinny one with dreadlocks, talks willingly to the officers.
“I’ve been homeless for 11 years. I’ve just been on the streets,” he says, as the bald and heavyset police officer begins to write in his notepad. The homeless man seems cheery and eager to talk more, despite his homelessness and despite the fact that the two officers tower over him and his friend, who is much more reserved.
Though originally from Los Angeles the talkative homeless man tells the officers that he has been without a home for quite some time, even though he is still a young man — he was born in 1989, he says.
“I’ve been on the streets ever since…parents threw me out when I was 15,” he continues, adding that he usually sleeps on the subway, which is just a block or two away from where he’s sitting now — up against a dirty, graffitied garage-like door that stands out on hipster Bedford Avenue.
“It’s starting to get cold, man,” he says. There is something more; someone has just broken his heart. “This chick just broke up with me. She ditched me to hang out with a guy to go do heroin. I have all my shit at her house.”
A passerby takes in the situation, and decides to intrude.
“Leave them alone,” he says while shaking his head, apparently directing his comment to the officers.
The homeless man begins to smoke, though not without politely asking the officers first if it would bother them. Meanwhile, the bald police officer is still writing furiously in his notepad.
Another police car — a marked one, this time — drives by slowly, but only stops the second time around. A third officer approaches the officers and homeless men.
The chatty homeless man is unfazed, and appears to ask the officers a question. He says, for no discernible reason, “That shit is badass.” Their conversation is relaxed, almost like one between old friends, though the other homeless man has not said a word, yet. His wide eyes make him look scared, in stark contrast to his friend.
“I go to Whole Foods,” the talkative homeless guy tells the officers, responding to a question and gesturing down the street, where a brand-new Whole Foods recently opened.
As the three officers now huddle around the two homeless men, the talkative one turns to his friend, smiles and says jokingly, “Look at us. We are bad people.” Slowly, as if to reassure his friend, the quiet one smiles back.
The homeless man stops speaking and looks up at the officers. The bald police officer finishes writing in his notepad. He rips out a pink slip of paper and hands it to the homeless man.
“You have two weeks,” another officer says.
