I’ve decided to keep posting only one part a week, sorry for the indecision, this whole thing is a learning process. If I have ideas for extra parts, I’ll try to post them on Tuesdays. Thanks for reading.
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I’m not that good of a cook. In fact, it’s the reason Vick so freely makes me food at work. I don’t know how he knows, but I’m thankful for the instinct. I woke up and made my way to the kitchen and turn on my kettle. Once the water boiled, I poured it on the awaiting teabag and retrieved a cigarette, and went to my favorite place in my apartment. The balcony. It’s one of the reasons I chose this place. It’s also why the rent is cheaper despite the location. It doesn’t have the best view, mostly of the surrounding buildings that hide the sunsets, but honestly, I’d never had one before and thought why not. There aren’t a lot of opportunities in my life where I’m in a position to look down at people. I also despise smoking inside.
When I first moved into my apartment, there was a woman who slept under the stairs of our entryway. She called herself Zora. She used to walk with me to the bus stop as she believed it was too dangerous for a woman to do such a thing by herself. She was incredibly wise and some nights I cried at the thoughts on how she gained her knowledge. Full of stories, they seemingly burst from her at random. She could go from talking about her day to mentioning how her first pimp would beat her. The remarks casually slipped out the way one would bring up they had forgotten their keys. One day, she hadn’t shown up at the bottom of the stairs to greet me and I didn’t see her once I got to the bus stop. I started asking about her once she hadn’t shown up for several days. Most people didn’t know who I was talking about, but the ones that did had didn’t recognize the name. She had told them something else. Minerva. Bets. Abby. I haven’t seen her since.
A cool wind interrupted my thoughts. I could smell the incoming rain. It was noon and I decided to see if I could beat the storm and get lunch. I grabbed my things and headed out. Once in my car, I searched the music app on my phone for the playlist I made with original songs from Aurora Paradox. It took a while to get into their music, but I found that I enjoyed them more while driving. I pulled into traffic and resisted the hunger pangs that were tempting me to speed.
For several weeks, I waited for a glimpse of him, but he never showed. It wasn’t surprising. I’ve gotten acquainted with a few homeless people since I’d moved out here. One thing I noticed is that they had their own sense of time. I’d check near the dumpsters when I’d take out the trash, and even brought an extra pack of cigarettes to share on a few occasions. On a couple of my nights off, I’d take walks to the bar, thinking perhaps he’d shown up. Obviously, he had no way to know my schedule. But nothing. I spent the solemn walk back to my apartment trying to understand myself. I was disappointed, and it felt like I lost a tiny bit of something. Not hope. Something more fleeting that I never learned how to catch. Still, days passed and shifts ended with no sign of him, Life continued and it was pitifully easy to forget it even happened. It was not the first time.
Halfway through my drive to the restaurant, a downpour drenched the roads and covered the city. Traffic slowed a bit, but I was still making good time. Even during the lunch rush, the service at Curd and Yolk was the best. I love brunch there. Given my current occupation, I sleep through the breakfast times of most places and can’t cook eggs to save my life. I went to the end of the block to the parking garage. The worst part about this place is the lack of spaces. My thoughts drifted to their fluffy frittatas as I got my umbrella from the trunk. My mouth watered as my boots contacted the flooded sidewalk. The block-long trudge through the pouring rain was worth it.
I started the short walk back to the restaurant. I did my best to navigate the crowd of people also on the hunt for a decent meal. I noticed a few people ducked into entryways of buildings waiting for it to pass when I spotted a familiar pile of dark hair.
“Hey, you,” I shouted. I hoped it was loud enough to carry over the rain.
He turned towards me and a look of familiarity spread across his face. I joined him under the terrace of some abandoned building.
“Shakey’s, right?” I nodded and he tapped his temple.
“So,” he asked. My cheeks warmed as I realized that I’d come over and said nothing.
“I’m heading to lunch,” the words fall out like a hastily executed failsafe.
He nodded. I wondered if it sounded like I was bragging.
“You hungry,” I added.
He stared at me again and I got taken back to the first time we met. It felt like I was going through some evaluation where only he knew the qualifications.
“Yeah, I can eat,” he responded. As we walked to the brunch spot, he took the umbrella from me and shielded us better from the rain. I was tall for my family, but that doesn’t mean much. We got seated and sat in silence as we looked over the menu. I already knew what I wanted, so I took the time to look him over. He had on newer clothes and his hat was missing. The cuts on his hands healed into barely visible scars and there was a thin line in his eyebrow void of hair from a cut. The waitress took our orders and left us in a more formal approximation of the night we met. I had so many questions, I hardly knew where to start.
“So, how have you been,” I asked. How original. How do normal people make conversation?
He took a long sip of his water before responding. “Fine, and yourself,” he said.
“Good.” A tangibly awkward silence fell over us.
I sipped my coffee, suddenly craving a smoke. While the rain provided a pleasant atmosphere, it also kept me from getting a table outside. My heart began to race, and my mind flooded with thoughts. I could feel I was messing this up. I didn’t even know what “this” was.
“I don’t know why I’m doing this,” I confessed. Something about him relaxed.
He stretched his hand across the table, “People call me CD.” I shook his hand.
“Val.”
He laughed, “I remember. Thanks for the food, again.”
“Of course.”
When his food arrived, he smothered his French toast in syrup until it almost ran off the plate and ate half a slice in one bite. I was a little more delicate with my omelet but no less appreciative. By the time we finished our meal, the rain had stopped. I paid for our meal and outside the restaurant, I lit two cigarettes and passed him one. We walked in the direction of the parking garage.
“So, what else you got planned for today,” he asked.
“Um, probably go to Iron Will, then work later.”
“That gym on Frederick and 3rd? Great bathrooms.”
“Yeah. And you?”
“I gotta help some friends with a little job. Earn some cash.”
We got to the building I found him, and there were a couple of people there. He waved to them and faced me. His face mirrored my emotions. Confusion mostly, but something else. Pleased maybe. It was good to know I wasn’t the only one keen on continuing on whatever this was.
“See you around, Val.” He slung his arm around my shoulders in a half-hug, I enjoyed the warmth.
“Later, CD.”
At work that night, I was somewhat distracted. Even Greg took notice.
“What’s going on with you tonight,” he asked as I cleaned the bar top from when I accidentally overflowing the tap.
“Sorry about that, Greg, I don’t know what’s going on with me tonight.”
“Well, whatever it is, it looks good on you, so I may give you pass.” He patted me on the shoulder and went to handle a customer.
On my break, I let the smoke fill my lungs. No sign of CD, but I was okay with that. I thought about our meeting earlier today. He didn’t like talking about himself that much, instead, he made jokes about everything. I learned he loved music and busked for money. He still hadn’t told me about his fight, and I could tell it was not a subject to be approached. Still, I wanted to know more. I wanted to figure out who he was. Is this what getting to know people felt like? It was an addictive sensation. I could see why people had friends.
Footsteps came from the entry of the alley, and I turned to face them. It was CD. He leaned against the wall next to me and pulled out a cigarette of his own.
“Hey, V, how’s your shift so far,” he asked. I could tell he genuinely wanted to know.
When I showed up at work that night, I had my doubts. I was in a desperate place, casting a hand out into the void searching for anything to hold onto. Perhaps I was setting myself up for this all to fail. I could just do the real work with people who will always be around. Somehow, at this moment in this alley as he told me about the house he was working on, I just knew he was reaching for something too. Maybe we’ll still be holding when the ground finally gives way on all of this.
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