The Incomplete Story of the Man at the Green Door

He frequently hangs around the stoop two doors down from my building, he and a couple of other people, which I've come to believe are his parents. I must admit, the door isn't actually green, it's the entryway behind him and the inner door. But I've always gotten a green door feeling from the place. Wears the same clothes pretty much all the time - blue adidas jacket, black jeans with paint stains, baseball cap. Always says, "Hey, Hot Dog!" and smiles as we pass, though he's heard me tell people her name is Lily. It's his term of endearment.

He looks to be in his 40's, I'd guess. Maybe younger, he's a little haggard. Dark hair but it's unclear whether or not he's Puerto Rican or even Hispanic, though most members of the neighborhood hail from Puerto Rico. Pretty thick, longish mustache. Nice guy, predictable. Stable. And especially because of the lack of creepy looks or personal questions, kind of endearing.

I didn't realize he was gone, I guess it must have been a few days - walking down the opposite side of the street with Lily I see a missing person sign on a street lamp post. Big picture of him - at least I think it's him - and then I read what he was last seen wearing and I'm sure it's my green door guy (turns out he is Puerto Rican after all). Shit. Now he has a name, and 7 children, for god's sake, and he's missing. Only it's weird, because for several days that's the only sign I see, and it's not all that noticable. It's not like they're going door to door asking questions or papering the whole neighborhood. Then later I see another, nearer the subway stop, a more high-traffic area. I feel pretty horrified at the whole situation. Not afraid for myself, but sickened at the thought of where he might be, what might have happened, and knowing that his whole fucking family is wrestling with the same things, as well as just plain not having the guy around. I think about it a lot, more than seems natural, or something. Sick. Sickened, shuddering, bent over because I momentarily lose the strenght to stand up straight.

Then one day he's back. It's been maybe 2 weeks, maybe a little more. He looks different, like he's gained a little weight, and it confuses me - I can only think that maybe he's been in a hospital being fed intravenously. Does that even make sense - would that cause weight gain? I see him, in the same old clothes, and I stare. I don't mean to be an asshole, but I have to make sure it's him. His top four front teeth have disappeared. And he looks serious, moreso than before, understandably - only I don't, because I've no idea what happened. He was gone and then he was back. And it's clear in the feel when we meet eyes that something has changed, but I don't know what. Though it's sort of comforting to hear, "Hey, Hot Dog!" again.

Incomplete because I don't know what this guy gained or lost in those two weeks. How he suffered or didn't suffer, feared or didn't fear. Was he trying to run away on purpose? But we're not close enough friends for me to ask...and I'm no longer sickened, just......heartbroken.