I liked walking down that street, you know? Used to walk that way every day after work – had that job almost a year, longest one ever. Now these doctors say I won’t be walking down any street anymore. They say when I get out of this hospital (hospitable, hoss-spittal. ha!) I’ll be in a wheel chair forever. Hospitals always think old drifters like me aren’t worth the bandages and iodine. But how the hell do they figure there’s room for everybody at the top?
Well, since I’m going to be a cripple and I hadn’t much of a place to stay before, I better get used to bumming my way through. So fair warning – I’m telling you the story, want it or not, then I’m hitting you up for a fin. That’s a five dollar bill to you, young one, I gotta practice. I know you’re just a, what is it, orderly, but I bet you got a home to go to when you leave this place, so you just listen here and help me out.
They were sitting in that shiny Corvette, brand new it looked. I’ve loved automobiles ever since I got to this country, about half your age, kid. The way they shine, they way they growl, oh, son, the way they move! And she, in the passenger seat – lord, what a sweet looking child. That long, straight, jet-black hair, slender face, her sharp cheekbones telling stories of grace and power and smarts. He looked about my size, which as you see is not so huge. He had that look of the failed businessman, be it drugs or hogs or that Wall Street stuff, always the same – that pinched look in the eyes, life draining out of him day by day, clean shaven, short hair, but still sloppy and confused. The kind that makes me proud of who I am, common old migrator. What I have – what I am – is clean and simple, none of that madness and evil you see everywhere now.
He was talking as I passed by. At first I wanted to look at that beautiful car, but then I saw her on the street side inside the car, I slowed down yessir I did, wouldn’t any other working fool do the same, angel woman in demon car? Then I heard him talking loud, stuff that had words like slut, and tramp, and mother and father, other things I won’t tell you, not for a little bitty fin, anyway. She answered him soft, I couldn’t hear what she said, but it fired him up good. More yelling, now he was waving his arms banging into the rear view mirror, slamming his fist down on the wheel, the beautiful wheel of that beautiful car, he didn’t even care about it. He was funny except so pathetic, I can never laugh when someone’s so angry, I don’t know how people can think it’s such a riot to see someone losing it all.
She was sitting quiet on the other side of the car while he went crazy. She didn’t look scared, but I was close enough to see her eyes, and they were wider than they should be, like the guy was going somewhere farther than he’d been before. I didn’t even realize I was edging closer to the car. The sun bounced off it like metalflake lightning, I could feel the waves of heat from the roof, the hood. I was aching just to hear that car-throat rumble when he started it, but also beginning to wonder if she would be all right, if he was going to hurt her or something. Right out there in broad daylight, I heard of it once before in this neighborhood, they’re crazy, these guys who try to grab the world, and then they blow it.
She was so beautiful, the car was so beautiful, and here was this fool going to do them both some serious harm. Before I understood, before I thought it over, I was right next to that car, right next to that guy hollering like that in the driver’s seat and bashing things inside. Then he turned around and saw me, snarled like a dog I saw once had been driven mad by burrs and cruel owners, said get the hell out of here, stinking bum. Right then I forgot about the car, about most everything but her, and me. I been carrying my own weight fifty-five years now, working all the time at anything there was to do, from one end of this outfit to the other, and I never been dirty, or evil, and I never done nothing to hurt anyone. I looked right in his eyes, said be careful of the lady, we don’t want no one hurt around here.
He looked at me like I come from some other planet, turned three, four shades of red. Then he pulled that huge pistol from somewhere under the seat, I don’t know pistols, it was just huge, he turned away from me and slapped her across the face with that pistol. That was just too much. I pulled that car door open and I tried to drag that bum onto the sidewalk, get him away from her, get him away from everybody, hoping someone would come and help out.
Nobody came to help out. He knocked me down pretty easy, even if he was just a scrawny failed business man. The he shot my knees – both of them. Laughed, nasty as he knew how, I expect, said something about old men with big noses and no legs, by then I wasn’t listening too good. I did hear that woman screaming at him, screaming for the cops, that’s about the last I heard for a while.
She came here to visit me, do you believe that? Big bandage across one cheek, she was still beautiful, still strong and smart. She came here, so help me, kissed me on this cheek right here. Said she was sorry as could be, said she hoped that man spends the rest of his days in jail, yes they caught up with him a few hours and miles later, and I never did get to hear that beautiful car roar away from there. I’ll never see her again, but the memory of that kiss will keep this old cripple going through a tough time or two.
So I warned you, now what about that fin? You gonna help me practice or not?
Richard Jones 