Marv sat cross legged against a stop sign at the corner of the street. He held his cardboard sign in front of him, hoping anyone who could read it might give him a dollar or two. His back hurt from where the metal dug into him but he didn’t really have the energy to move himself. He could smell himself - a horrid stench, really, and he was thankful that he could see some dark clouds in the distance.

His green jacket that his father had once given him was shredded in some places, moth-eaten in others. His jeans were stained with coffee and grease. He had shoes once, but had to downgrade to old sandals he found in the trash when someone had stolen his shoes from him while he was sleeping. 

Marv gave a nod and mouthed “thank you” to every stranger that took the time to give him money. Mostly just coins, but anything helped. He could see them fall into the plastic McDonald’s cup he’d dug from the trash three weeks before, but he couldn’t hear them. His whole life, Marv had been deaf. 

Marv was forty seven years old. He felt like he was ninety. His back always hurt and people constantly mocked him. He couldn’t hear them, but he knew they did it. It was what every homeless person went through. You were either mocked, ignored, or helped. Unfortunately, the first two were more common. 

It was one day, just after a storm - aka, Marv’s bath - that his life changed for the better. Now, he wished he could say he’d hit a jackpot or something of the like, but he would never exchange what he’d gotten for anything else. Not even a million dollars. 

On June 13th, a man approached Marv. He had a red dog  leash in his hand, walking a young golden retriever. Both were washed and the man was dressed well, but not wealthy. He was maybe in his forties, too. 

The man bent down and held his hand out to Marv. Marv looked at his hand, then up his arm to the man, down at the hand, and at the man again. There was something in the man’s eyes that told Marv he could be trusted. He took his hand and was pulled to his feet. 

Hello, the man signed. 

Hello, Marv signed back. How did you know I was deaf?

I am mute, he replied. My name is D-A-V-I-D.

M-A-R-V-I-N, or just M-A-R-V.

Hello, M-A-R-V, David signed with a gentle smile. The dog at his feet barked and David snapped his fingers before leaning down to pet her. He looked back up at Marv. Would you like to pet her?

Marvin slowly brought himself down to one knee, holding out a hand for the dog to sniff. After a moment, the dog let him pet her and he scratched behind her ear and beneath the dark red collar. What is her name?

Being mute, I could never say one, so I never gave her one. 

Marv stood up. Thank you, he signed. For allowing me to pet her. It was a pleasure. 

The pleasure is mine, M-A-R-V. 

That was day one of his life changing experience. Every day, David came by with the nameless dog. Sometimes he left a few dollars, sometimes he brought snacks, and sometimes they went places together. David taught him how to do a few things. Other times, Marv simply needed the resources to be able to do it. 

David then brought a whiteboard one day, along with a rubber band of three dry erase markers. Red, blue, and black. On it, they did art, made jokes, and talked, then when David left, Marv would erase it and write “Homeless - anything helps.”

This went on for a long time. He saved as much as he could in hopes it could add up to something useful, and he spent the rest on food. 

It was one January, maybe an inch of snow on the ground that always melted once the sun came back out, that he woke up behind a thrift store to the feeling of wetness on his face. He’d remembered crawling under a tiny roof outback that workers used as a patio, and he hadn’t remembered leaving. 

When his eyes cracked open, he saw the dog sitting in front of him politely, her tail thumping on the concrete. She cocked her head as he sat up, reaching out to her. He wanted to ask where David had gone, but he couldn’t form the words. He looked around as he ran his hands over her golden fur, but he saw no sign of him.

That was when he noticed his white board. 

I’m extremely sorry, Marv. I have been very sick for the last months that I’ve known you, and I was looking for someone that I could trust with my baby girl. No one has been as kind as you. I wish I could give you more. Dave. 

Tears were in Marv’s eyes before he had even finished reading. The dog nudged him with her nose and he latched onto her, letting a few tears fall into her fur as he rubbed her back. 

He had to move on, despite not wanting to. David had been the only one to show him true kindness in the last year or so, and now he was gone, too. 

But David had taught him so many things over the year. Things he’d have never known otherwise - how to do this and that, tricks, tons of things. 

So he knew exactly what he was doing when he set up his small stand of magic tricks in the parking lot of a grocery store. Sunrise to sunset, he did trucks, a small tin can at the corner with money as people awed around him. Some only stopped by to pet the dog. He allowed questions to be written on the white board - the most common one asking for the dog’s name, which he didn’t have an answer for. 

He was picking his life up again. It was incredible. Now, he couldn’t afford a house or anything, but he was eventually able to purchase a van after a few months. It was old and beat up, but he wasn’t looking for anything cool. Just something he could sleep in and maybe go a few places when people in a certain area got bored of his tricks. 

And it worked. 

For a while. 

He didn’t know what it was, but he could feel it. He knew he didn’t have much longer left. He was throwing up everything he ate, leaving him with zero energy, and there wasn’t much he could do any more. After a week, he felt too weak to move very much. His skin had begun turning colors and becoming splotched. His hair was falling out. 

The dog knew something was wrong, too. She cuddled closer to him, protecting him with everything she had, but not even she could help with this. 

So he went for a walk. He walked and walked until his feet couldn’t take it anymore, and just up ahead, he noticed a young girl with her mother. They sat on blankets on the concrete, the girl's head on her mothers shoulder. Her eyes were open but grayed, staring off. As Marv approached, her head turned towards him, but her eyes couldn’t seem to find him.

“Mama?” she whispered, pulling her legs closer when she felt someone approaching. 

“Shh, it’s okay,” she replied. “Can I help you?” she asked Marv. 

Do you sign? he asked. 

She stared at him, confused. 

He plucked a sharpie from the ground near her sign and rolled his sleeve up. This dog was given to me by a mute man. He passed away a few months ago. I feel it is my time now. She brings luck and love from all around. I trust you. 

With that, he gently touched the young girl’s hand. She had to be around twelve. The mother read aloud what Marv had written to the girl as the end of the leash was placed in her hand. 

“What’s her name?” the girl asked.

Marv simply shrugged, and her mom told her that she didn’t have one. 

“Well,” the girl said. “She’s been through a journey, from what you say.” She smiled, her head turned in the dog's direction. She held her hand out, feeling for her. “Journey,” she repeated. She smiled. Marv smiled, too. He wiped the tear in his eye and waved to them. 

“Wave, Annie,” the mother said. 

Annie waved. 

Marv walked away, glancing back at Journey, whose eyes were on him, until he turned the corner, never to be seen again.