How Much Is Them Fries

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Dallas, circa 1985

My office was near a fast food restaurant where it was my habit to go for lunch.  It featured a small outdoor dining area near the street. When the weather was right it was a good place to sit, watch the people go by, and feed bits of french fries to the ever-present flock of sparrows that hovered about. 

 On a sunny, unusually warm day just before Christmas I took a late lunch and ordered a burger, fries, and soft drink.  The outside tables were empty, so I chose one in the sun and laid out the Wall Street Journal to enjoy my break.  I was absent-mindedly tossing bits of french fries to the sparrows when I noticed a boy had materialized at the next table.  He was grade-school age and thin, with large eyes, shabby clothes, and a direct gaze. 

 “How much is them fries?” he asked. 

 “Would you like some?” I said. 

 He came over wordlessly and took a spot next to me on the bench.  I pushed the fries over to him.  He hesitated, took one, pinched off a piece, and tossed it to the birds.  As they fluttered over their bounty, he looked at the fry in his hand, then at me. 

 “It’s okay,” I said. 

 He downed the fry and said, “Them’s sure good, mister.” 

 “Here,” I said, giving him a five-dollar bill, “get yourself something to eat.” 

 Shortly he came back with a burger, fries, and a big soda.  He dutifully placed the change in front of me and spread his meal beside mine.  As he ate we talked.  I asked about school, home and family.  His replies, as direct as his gaze, were a tale of impossible odds—poverty, neglect, a broken family. 

 He ate slowly, careful to toss a piece of each fry to the birds.  When I finished my meal, he stopped eating, too. 

 “I have to go now,” he said.  He wrapped the remains of the burger and fries in a napkin and stuffed them back into the sack, obviously saving something for later. 

 I offered him my hand.  He took it, and said, “Thank you, mister.” 

 We shook and he walked away.  As he neared the sidewalk he turned and waved and held up the sack.  “These is for my friend.  He’s your color, you know.”