Raving Rita was what she was known as, but her full name was Maureen Rita O'Manion. She was born fifty five years ago in a little town thirty miles outside Dublin. On the day of her death, red hair had long since faded to a rusty gray, she was gaunt, dark circles under her eyes and her jawline has lost it's youthful sharpness But her eyes, her eyes had been just as green as the day she had her first kiss. On the surface, it was just another homeless person who died in the middle of the night. Just another body for the city to take care of with no relatives to speak of, no next of kin, no money, no insurance, no memoirs, items of value or anything really to denote she'd ever even been alive.

Smokey Joe knew better. He'd known Rita for going on ten years now. They'd talked about the life they used to have, the life they wished they'd chased, and the life they lived right now There were no secrets between Smokey Joe and Raving Rita. They were the pair. They could sometimes be seen walking along together through alleyways and along the docks, holding hands, not saying anything, but seeming to understand one another Those in the know, in this case, the homeless, saw a different side than the public. They saw Joe bringing Rita her favorite donut from the ones the donut shop threw out. They saw Rita making sure Joe always a little bit of a cigarette to smoke before bed. They saw them kiss, hug and sleep curled together beneath layers of clothing and blankets.

The funeral service for Maureen Rita O'Manion started at 2 PM sharp at Caskey's Funeral Home. Caskey's sat off the beaten path, didn't hold any of the swank amenities of the bigger mortuaries in the city, but it was the one the city paid to do the burial for those less fortunate. Natalie Delassixe arrived in a black tailored jacket, black pants, her side arm in place, with a silver gray blouse beneath. She saw Joe and went to stand by him. There were probably only five people for the service. Most of the homeless felt uncomfortable going inside places like a funeral home It was too much a reminder of just how close they were to being the one in the box. Natalie looked at Joe and smiled, nodded her head in understanding, then took a seat and listened to the short sermon given by the city mission priest.

Natalie never explained to any of her co-workers why she had so many dealings with the underbelly of New Orleans She had friends that were prostitutes, crack heads, thieves, gypsies, on and on. There were stories for every single one of them. Stories about why they were where they were, stories of their hopes, their dreams, their failures and their struggles Just because they had nothing, and couldn't clean up as easily made them no less human beings. She knew Rita had immigrated to the States when she was nineteen. An arranged marriage that went horribly wrong. The details no longer mattered but they were horrific enough to leave Rita in a state of mental imbalance. Between that point and this, there was a lifetime of events that shaped the young girl from a dewy skinned irish lass to the homeless raving Rita of dockside.

The service came to a close and the few in attendance wandered out. Some gave upnods to Natalie, others lifted a hand in wave, and she replied in kind She was on the steps of the funeral home with Smokey Joe.

"It was a good service, Joe. She would've liked it."

"Yea, dangon, I don't know, but if she didn't like it she would've laughed anyway..." The old man gave a rough chuckle himself, before the graveled voice spoke again. Rheumy dark eyes settled on Natalie. "You takin' care o' that boy o' yours?" When Natalie nodded, he did too. He put his hands in his pockets and nodded. Then his voice dropped, speaking in a private tone.

"You don't need ta be comin' around all the time. It was years ago, girl. You've paid your debt to those who helped. You need ta take care o'yerself, and take care o'dat boy. Ya hear me now? I mean it, Nat.."

Natalie nodded. "You've said it before and I know. But if I have the time, I'll be around." She smiled, gave Joe's arm a squeeze then headed for her car. She tipped her head to the breeze, laden with heat and moisture, but it felt so damn good today. Everything did. Last night and this morning with Tommy and Kevin was like a perfect dream that still kept her mind flooded with endorphins. Thinking of it, she smiled again. A private, secret smile, but one that lit her up from the inside out. For the very first time in her life, Natalie felt like there was a shot at something real.

It felt like hope.