The Homeless: Ryan

There are parasites everywhere, even amongst the homeless. And I am going to give you a case study of one such parasite I became acquainted with as my last main post in this series.

In mid-December, I met Ryan. I had seen him around. I noticed him because he was young and good-looking. Also cocky, not putting up with any shit. And yes, I had the hots for him.

We started chatting over breakfast and then moved on out of the OBM. Quickly, our mornings became a routine. Start at McDonald’s and head off one of the malls. It helped to get through the morning. And because of him, I learnt the ropes about living on the street, like getting my welfare check cashed.

He told me about himself right off the bat. He was adopted and had upper-middle class parents outside Toronto. But when they found out he was gay, they kicked him out. He then had an accident and was on disability. And then because of a mistake at a hospital, when he was attacked, he was given tainted blood. So he was on the street, HIV-positive.

Now Ryan had plans. When he was in Toronto, he had found, in a burnt down building, some insurance files containing personal information on different people. He had a few on him while the rest were up north at a friend’s place.

What he was going to do was apply for credit cards with this information and with them, get off the streets. The idiot I was followed along to help out, knowing full well what he wanted to do was illegal. But part of me saw a way to get some money to help me get off the street. At least get me some decent clothes for interviews.

The first step was to scout for places to mail the cards to. The mail box had to be outside. Then we had to make sure no one was home during the day. And then see when the postman came by. Once a few places were targeted, it was time to apply for the cards, usually AMEX.

This was all done using the Internet. There is a place up on Papineau where people can gather to play games, talk, relax, etc. They also have a few terminals so people surf the net. This is where Ryan put his plans into motion.

I can hear the groan now about being a stupid idiot getting involved in this. I never filled out any of the applications or picked up the cards. Ryan did all of that. But I went along with it, hoping for a card for myself. Desperate times calls for desperate measures.

What happened with the first batch of cards, I don’t know. Around Christmas, I was with some friends for a day or so and Ryan wasn’t at the OBM. It wasn’t until a couple of days after New Years that I saw him.

He told me that a couple of cards had come in and with them, he got some stuff. And moved in with a person he knew. He didn’t dare to leave a message at the OBM, so he was hoping to catch me some time during the day but couldn’t.

The problem was that person he had moved in was maniac-depressive and went psycho on him. Threatening to call the cops. So he had to leave with just some clothes. Without the stuff he got and the cards.

Since I had been through a similar situation, I knew what he was talking about. I had lived with a person who I had trusted but went completely psycho on me so I ended up losing over $20,000 of my stuff. But that is for another post.

To make things worse, his disability check had not come in and he needed to get his HIV medication. It was going to take a week or so to get the check sorted out. So I loaned him the money for the medication.

Several things were going on which made me stupid. I was lonely, horny and felt sorry for him. If he was HIV-positive, he needed the medication especially in the cold days of winter. And I believed his story about getting the check in a week or so.

But at the same time, he did get me a cell phone which worked for a couple of months. These helped me stay in contact with some people. And gave me a contact number for my resume. This prevented any warning signals from going off as some of you have already had going off.
Of course, the check never came. It didn’t help I was starting to slip into a depression which he deftly manipulated. At the same time, he would disappear for a little while and then reappear, making my mornings long.

And when he did reappear, he was still in the motions of getting new cards. And once he got them, I would reap in the benefits. At the same time, he used my good will and depression to get a bit more money off of me.

Once the weather started to change in March, it broke my depression (as it always does) and I started to see clearly. But by then I was out of close to $300. Money I really should not have been giving to someone else.

And Ryan was still trying to get credit cards and cell phones but I did not see any results. But by now, I did not give him any money. I stayed friendly but kept a distant. Until the end of March. And that is when things clicked.

I was at Brutopia, having a pint when Ryan came in. He was smartly dressed and carried a couple of bags. A credit card had come in and he was going to max it out. And he promised I would be able to share in it. He suggested we go shopping in a day or so for some stuff. I was heading off to the OBM and he decided he was going to enjoy the night. He asked me to hold onto his bags until the morning.

I did see him the next morning. He thanked me for holding onto the bag and once again said we would go shopping. But not today. How about tomorrow. Which, of course never happened.
He disappeared again for a little while. Now I am a creature of habit. In the morning, I had a specific routine. From the OBM I would go to the McDonald’s at University and Ste. Catherine. After that I would usually go to the Cafemania in Cours Mont Royal. After that, it would either be off to Chapters or the McGill library.

Ryan knew this so when he reappeared in April, he knew where to find me. It was now mid-April and he found me at McDonald’s. Once again things did not work out for him.
He had lost all his paperwork and had to get up north for the rest. But he was flat broke. Frantic, he explained to me he needed bus fare to go up north to his friends. I tried not to get snarky but couldn’t resist a dig about him not sharing before. He apologized and said things would be different.

I gave him twenty just to get rid of him. There was no pity nor concern on my part. I just wanted to get rid of him.

I didn’t see him again until some time in June or July. He was sitting outside, near the OBM. I was late because I had a job where I worked until 8:30. So I was in a hurry to get in before they locked up. At the same time, I thought I would see him in the morning. But he wasn’t there when I got up.

The last time I saw Ryan was late October 2003, from what I remember. I was off the streets, had a job and life was starting to turn around. I was walking to work, along Ste. Catherine. It was a gray fall day with drizzle. I was heading east, he was heading west.

He was holding a broken umbrella that barely covered him. His clothes were dishevelled, his hair a mess. He looked pale and his shoulders hunched. He had not shaved in a day or two. Ryan was looking down, not watching where he was going.

As I passed him, I almost stopped to call out to him. But I didn’t. The receding figure was part of my past. I had a job and an apartment. I was starting to rebuild my life.

There was nothing to gain by calling out to him. I lost my money and would never see it again. Ryan was a user who only cared about himself. He played the system and sometimes won. But more than often lost.

How much of what he told me was true, I don’t know. Ryan, like most of us, was dealt a raw deal. But when someone has no problems manipulating someone who is down for their own personal gain, that is wrong.

But the homeless are easy targets. Be it the corner stores, the bars, the drug dealers or even themselves. It is easy to prey on someone who is down and out. Even when you are down and out.