After All (working title)

Sitting that morning in the dark cool air, my mind was at ease. You know what I’m saying? It is amazing sometimes how comfort can spring upon you like a blessed dream. Cars swooping by, they sound like waves of wind on wheels. The air rustling the hairs on my neck and chills race down my spine. I felt as if the new morning had cleansed me. Today, isn’t gonna be so bad, I thought to myself.
The bus came at 6:30, I didn’t have to be at work until 8:15, but again the bus takes forever to drive across the small town I live in. As I climbed the stairwell and slipped the driver a dollar bill, I realized that Jenn had almost squeezed me dry the night before. She was a wonderful girl. If you could see her dance, you’d understand. I saw an empty seat towards the back. I love when this happened. Nobody fucks with you in the back of the bus. I’d had lots of car troubles over the past few weeks, and I learned real quick that empty single seats on the bus were hard to come by. Usually, I’d get trapped in the middle playing dodgem with the oncoming and leaving passengers. Or I’d have to sit by some dirty destitute who’d bum cigarettes and cough on me. Plus, I hate having to contort my legs every couple of minutes when someone else was getting on or off.
I sat down; the bus wasn’t at all crowded today. The old black woman that usually sat right up front and badgered the driver was missing. The teenage white girl with the baby was absent as well. You get used to seeing the same people every time. They are all nameless faces in a crowd, but if you see them daily you kind of begin to know them. Man, how that old bag asks every retarded question? How much farther til Froster Road? Do you think it’s gonna be cold today? Geezus, Sometimes I just want to say Hey, Shut the Fuck up and let the man drive! And then there is that fuckin’ kid, always screaming and crying! He must be near 2 or 3 years old now, but he still screams like a newborn. It drives me crazy. Especially when I’ve got a rum-and-coke migraine. I wish some company could devise muzzles for children. But, ”one shouldn’t lose his temper” mom used to say. That’s neither here nor there. There are no screaming little brats, or old senile ladies today. No sir. Just smooth sailing to the diner. Yeah, today isn’t gonna be that bad, I thought again as I relaxed in my own public transportation paradise.

I began to doze as the bus started its voyage through the black dew-filled morning. Staying up at the club ‘til four in the morning wasn’t the best idea I had ever had. Hey, at the time I thought I’d be sleeping in a bit. Then the damn car wouldn’t start. Jenn took me home. I invited her in and well you can guess what happened next. Man, I tell ya, last night, she was truly shakin it with all her glory. I should be so lucky. She is a knockout girl. Huge knockers! Tight ass! You know, the kind. The bad thing is that she knows it too. Sometimes, I get a little bothered by the way she grinds on those good-for-nothings at the club. Last night, I almost beat some guy’s face in, because he wanted to get friendly.
The buzz and purr of the bus’s engine was like a mother’s lullaby. Reminded me of a time way back. When mom would hum me to sleep as a child. Rubbing my chest and squeezing my shoulders, she stood there with her mascara running down her cheeks and bloody lipstick on her teeth. Daddy’s handprints glowing on her face and arms. The pigment of her skin gradually turning from red to blue. The humming was relaxing and it calmed the violence. But, I never could fall asleep. Who knows when daddy is gonna come back to make mommy glow again. She often said, “Everything’s gonna be fine, dear.” But I know better. When dad’s hittin’ the bottle—nothing’s safe. She never learned and he never stopped. That is, until mortality settled the deal.
The sun began to rise above the timed horizon. It was misty yet bright. The orange burned like flames from a hot summer grill. They burn the flesh of the sky, and illuminate the buildings and streets of this quiet dingy town. Little by little, I see the houses and streets come out of the dark abyss of night, and the ugliness of the land wakes me from my thoughts. My reality inches closer and closer. This city of debris is horribly magnificent with junk cars on slimy curbs, and rusted iron fences missing gates. The latches are still in working order, but nothing there to be swung. It was a poor man’s splendor of poverty. As I gazed out the window and light woke me, the turned down the boulevard and headed toward my domain.
I made it to work about twenty minutes early. It’s a small diner where I spend most of my days rotting away and slopping “meat” to the city's finest citizens. Drug addicts, bums, drunks, and prostitutes just to name a few. I walked through the flimsy plate glass door into the urban 1950’s wannabe building. The usuals were already packing in their grease and eggs. They wiped up their leftovers with semi-burnt toast followed by bitter motor-oil coffee. The stench of smoke smothers my every pore as I breeze past the counter.
The headache begins.
I had enough time to sit down for some grease before my 12-hour marathon began. My stomach squelched as the lard and caffeine burrow holes in my gut. Listening to the customers grumble and hack as their heart imploded with sausage and biscuit muck. One of the regulars, named Fred, was a real ass-muncher. Every morning, like clockwork, at 7:45 Fred was in at the counter. The bitching started about 7:46. Where is my bacon? Drain that greasy shit! Don’t burn my toast! I don’t want any of those running fuckin’ eggs either. Every damn morning. It amazes me sometimes; I have made this dickhead’s food for over six years now, and if I would have had the pleasure this morning, he would still inform me on how to drain his greasy, shitty bacon. If you forget any part of this monstrous task, you would have hell to pay. By 7:55, he is usually stuffing his face though. That’s where I came in today. Again, I thought, today is moving along quite well.
Fred isn’t a big man; in fact he is quite tiny. He’s about 5’6, 115 pounds. Probably around 55 years old. Looking at him you would think he was eighty or ninety, because he talks with a mouth full of gravel, and smokes like every puff will be his last. In fact, I usually count how many cancer-sticks he has while sitting at the yellow tobacco stained counter. The record is twelve, in case you were wondering. One day Fred will have his last cigarette, though. We always joke that one morning 7:45 will roll around and there would be no Fred. What in the world would we do?
I punched in at 8:10. Shit, I was even early today. Things are gonna be all right. I walked out to the register to grab my order pad when someone grabbed my arm.
“Hey Buddy, Why didn’t you make my food today? Fred gassed.
“What?” I said, confused.
“I said why didn’t you make my food today, BOY? He blurted again.
I felt warm drips of sweat bead up on my forehead. My fist clinched and my teeth latched together like vice grips. Come on Fred, don’t fuck with me today. I’m feeling good. No problems.
“Sorry, I came in a little later today? I said, holding back all of my agitation through a fake plastic smile. You learn response when dealing with the public. Especially, when doing business with the fine outstanding people who frequent the diner.
“Oh, why were you late?” He said. “Did you call in?”
“No, I…..”
“I’m gonna have to talk to Pete about you.”
Damn it, Fred, just pay for your shit and jet. I don’t need this shit today!
“Cause I need your ass to be here a 7:45 to make my damn breakfast! You do it better than that retard.” Fred pointed to Charlie. Charlie stood silently, and cursed the bastard under his breath.
Fred was now a mere footstep away from my face. I could smell the grease of his meal bellowing out of his gravel trap. His teeth were stained yellow with brown crud cemented along the gum line.
“Fred, I wasn’t on early shift today” I said again, trying to make an excuse. Inside, my stomach clinched and my mind shifted.
“Well BOY! From now on you are on the early shift because you are gonna make my breakfast every morning.”
I felt tears enter my eyes. I heard my mother weep. And with a sudden burst of agony and vengeance I screamed, “Fuck you!”
Fred’s eyes grew to half-dollar size, with a tint of yellow like his teeth. And he belched some cry of anger that I did not hear.
I threw my apron to Betsy, and off I went. Out the door and down the street. The blood in my veins was chugging like a locomotive. My feet were light, and my mind was scattered. My legs were squishy and my knees knocked with inflamed adrenaline. The skyline was a blurred mix of blue, white, and orange. I screamed to myself, “Goddammit, That Motherfucker!”
“I’ll teach him to treat me like a bitch!”
Still shaking and tearing, I made it back to the bus terminal. No money, no car, no job. I was royally in the shitter once Jenn found out about this.
I continued on homeward, and began working the thoughts over in my head. Still my blood boiled and my body shook with every step. Rage was filling my soul. I needed someone to hold. I needed my mother. I needed….Jenn.
Instead of going home, I walked over to the club. A ratty little place with a broken neon sign in front that said, “Bra_‘s Ba_es.” Jenn had worked here a few months. The funny thing about the place was that I never would have stepped in if Jenn didn’t work there. I made my way through the tinted glass door. I walked in, sweaty and red, and smelled the musky alcohol and sweat smoldering off the vinyl. I glanced around, not recognizing many familiar faces. I caught eyes with Donna. She was an older woman who was a good friend of Jenn’s.
“Hey, Donna. Is Jenn around?
“No, Are you all right, hon? What’s the matter, sweety?”
“Ummm…nothing! Can you just get Jenn for me, please”
I held back my frustration. Trying not to explode, I asked her again.
“Where is she? I don’t have time for this shit!”
“She called off today, Dan. She said she had a doctor’s appointment.” Donna said. “She was getting her moneymaker examined.”
“She said what?” I asked as I turned around head in my hands. I scratch my sweaty brow. Over my shoulder I notice Brad walking over.
Shit, what the hell? I just saw her three hours ago? She never said she wasn’t going to work. What the hell is going on!
“Is there a problem, Donna?” Brad leaked with his usual smugness.
“No Brad! There’s several problems,” I jerked. “I need to know where Jenn is”
“That little bitch called off again today. I tell ya! One more and she’s outta here.”
“What do you mean?”
“This is the third time in the past two weeks she has pulled this shit”
I left the club, as Brad started to bitch about how she better not be late tomorrow or some shit like that. Truth was that Brad didn’t have too much goin on in the “entertainment” industry to fall back on. Jenn was his one and only prize possession. She brought in the assholes that were paying the bills.
Worried and wheezing from the heat and strain, I made my way to Jenn’s apartment. I was swimming in a sea of thoughts. I didn’t notice the serenity I had felt earlier. All my thoughts were jumbled. Streets and buildings encompassed me like a maze. I couldn’t breathe. Glimmers of people walked around me laughing. They knew. They knew that I had embarrassed the family. “Little boys shouldn’t upset others. It’s not polite” Mom said. Yeah, but mommy was dead now. And daddy was too. Bottled frustration glazed upon my brain. The sunlight was red and the quiet dingy town was raging. It was sucking what little humanity I had from my skin. I needed comfort. Solitude.
All of these things swirled around my head as I graced the front lawn of The Goodday Lane Apartments. I made my way to apartment 4 and knocked. No answer. “Oh GOD, Jenn where are you?” I knocked again harder, putting every emotion in my body into each thrust.
Just then, I heard the latch click, and there she was. My sanctuary standing before me dressed in shorts and a white lace bra. Her hair was disheveled and her eyes looked mystified by my presence. Her blood-red lips parted, but I heard no sound. I wrapped my arms around her squeezing her shoulders. I closed my eyes, ignoring all of her words and expressions of wonder. Leaning in on her soft torso, I felt the weight lift from my eyes. My tensions began to lift. My fears swept away into obscurity. No words, just tears.
I regained some sense of composure and sporadically expelled my account of the day’s event. Not in great detail, but semi-coherent, I think. I looked in those gorgeous blues, and saw worry bleed to maddening anger. I saw her blood-red lips tighten and her teeth clinch.
Then it happened.
I felt a slap across my face.
“What the fuck!” I yelped like a hurt puppy.
“I can’t believe you lost your fucking job! Dammit, Dan! Can you do anything right!”
“But….” I attempted.
“No buts, Dan. I’m pregnant!”
“What? Are…Are you sure?”
“Yes, I went to the doctor this morning.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before” I asked. “Oh my god, honey! That’s wonderful!”
“Don’t honey me. You lost your job. What are we gonna do now?”
“It’s okay!” I said as the red lifted from the day.
I felt a smile surface. My heart leaped from my chest. The sweat soaking my skin cooled and suddenly I felt serene again.
I looked at this young vibrant woman and saw a smile grace her rosy lips. Her tears streamed over her ripe jawbone. Her disappointment turned into glee. I grabbed her velvety hand and pulled her near. Shyly, I kissed her cheek. Grimaces turned upside down. See, I told you it was gonna be a good day.