Markwildyr.com,
Post #154
Photo courtesy of Stock Adobe.com:
This week, let’s get back to storytelling. The following is part one of a yarn I wrote just for this post. Hope you like it.
* * * * *
PATTERNS
OF MOONGLOW AND SHADOW
Movement between patches of
moonglow and shadow caught my attention as I waited at a traffic light on East Central
in Albuquerque. In dark of shadow, a vague, shapeless stirring; in weak
moonglow—feebly augmented by fading neons—motion took momentary shape. White
sneakers, slim jeans, lanky figure, hair darker than the shadowed recess of closed
shops lining the avenue. Good physique, long, coltish stride… but what did he
look like? Probably not much. What were the odds you’d spot someone with it all:
good build, masculine grace, and fair features? Slim to none.
The light changed before he
reached the relatively well-lit intersection, and I moved on toward my downtown
office for a late-night planning meeting. After that, maybe a stop at a Fourth
Street bar before heading back to my empty apartment.
Without consciously thinking
about what I was doing, I circled the block to catch another glimpse of this
walking enigma who had so unexpectedly snagged my attention. My timing was off
a bit, so I circled yet again and caught him as he trotted across a side
street. The sudden appearance of my headlamps caused him to glance my way. Good
Lord! I’d hit the perfecto. Build, grace, and good features.
Of course, momentary glimpses
can be tricky. Minks can turn out to be weasels on closer inspection. I noted
the time on my dashboard clock. Nine-fifteen. Maybe this was a familiar trip
for the young man. If so, I might catch sight of him tomorrow.
****
Our downtown meeting had been called
for this unusual hour because our boss kept a social engagement before calling
on the team to finalize plans for a development on the west side of the city. My
mind strayed, and that was dangerous for a junior member of an architectural
firm. Nonetheless, my thoughts refused to let go of that long-legged stride,
dark hair, and comely features back in the Northeast Heights. Would I see him
again? Central wasn’t my usual route from home to office, so Lady Fate must have
had a hand in what happened.
The evening ended as
predicted. A couple of “hail fellow well met” drinks and then home to a lonely
apartment. Actually, my pad wasn’t bad. Two bedrooms in a pricey part of town
too far from the office to be really convenient. I’d signed the lease because
that’s where my girlfriend Cassandra wanted to live. Cassandra. The name
should have forewarned me. Like that old Trojan Priestess of Apollo who told
truths that were never believed, my Cassandra had warned me our relationship
wouldn’t last. And she was right. Six months into a one-year lease, she moved
back to Pennsylvania, leaving me with an inconvenient apartment contract only
halfway spent. I closed the door behind me and gave the empty apartment my
usual greeting of late. “Shit!”
****
The next
evening, I cruised the upper end of East Central from Wyoming down to Carlisle and
back without results. Oh, I saw pickups—both male and female—but that wasn’t
what I was looking for. That particular enigmatic figure from last night
totally claimed my attention. I gave up around nine and returned home.
Unusually
antsy at the office the next day, I worked late in order to get some tasks done
I’d neglected earlier. Sometime after nightfall, I headed up the long expanse
of Central Avenue past the Highlands subdivision, beyond the University of New
Mexico main campus to the International Section, and deep into the Northeast
Heights. No sign of what I was looking for.
Pissed at
myself for getting hung up on something as trivial as a guy with a long athletic
stride, I turned north toward home, but found myself circling the block and
heading west on Central again. It was almost as if my Miata had a mind of its
own. I cursed softly but continued on down the street. Shop lights began
winking off, creating those weird patterns of moonglow and shadow along the
sidewalks.
At Carlisle,
I said screw it and headed home, or at least that’s what I told myself. And
since Central was sort of a way home, I pointed the car’s nose east. Lo and
behold, in a few minutes, I spotted a long-legged figure turn south on
Morningside, and I did something I never do… pulled up beside the guy just as
he started to cross the street to a small park. His eyes widened in surprise when
he almost walked into the side of my vehicle.
Like I said,
there’s always something to mar perfection, and now it was obvious. The
guy—kid, really—was dirty. Filthy. He likely lived on the streets, possibly
sleeping in the park lying just to the right of my car.
I blurted the
first thing I thought of. “You hungry?”
“Y-yeah.”
The next
words were hard to get out, but for some reason I was committed. “Get in. I’ll
buy you something.”
He squinted
doubtfully. “You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m
sure,” I said, grabbing a newspaper I had intended to read tonight and spreading
it over the front passenger’s seat.”
He used that
long, graceful stride to go around the car and climb in. He didn’t seem
bothered at the newspaper crinkling beneath his weight.
I goosed the
motor and whipped around the corner to make my way back to Central. “Robert,” I
said, examining him out of the corner of my eye.
“Huh? Oh,
Jimmy.”
“What do you
like to eat?”
“I like
I-Hop, but they won’t let me in.”
“No, probably
not.” I was beginning to regret my rash action. The newspaper might save my seat,
but the odor was going to be harder to expunge.
“What would
you think if I offered you a shower.”
“I’d think it
was great, but it won’t do any good.”
“Why?”
“I’ve got no
clothes to change into. Have to put these back on.”
“You don’t
have any more clothes?”
“Did. But I
went up the street to do some dumpster diving this morning, and when I got
back, sombody’d filched my goods. Took everything.”
I glanced at
the dash clock. “Walmart’s still open, how about I buy you a shirt and a pair
of pants.”
“Same thing.
Won’t let me in.”
“Maybe not,
but they’ll let me in.”
Two minutes
later, I turned south on San Mateo and whipped into a Walmart parking lot. I
took out a pen and pad and wrote down his shirt and pant sizes.
“Be back in a
few. Hang tight,” I said, rolling down the windows even though the night air
was cool. One of the things I liked about Albuquerque. No matter how hot the
days, the nights were cool.
Thirty
minutes later, I exited the store and only then did I consider the possibility
he’d hot wire the ignition and take off in my car. But there it was with him
leaned back in the reclining seat. He flinched when I opened the driver’s side
door and tossed a canvas bag into his lap. “Here you go three shirts, three
pants, three shorts—hope you like jockeys—three pairs of socks, and a shaving
kit. Oh, and a windbreaker for cool nights.”
“Wow! That’s
more’n I lost this morning. Thanks, man.”
Let’s take
you home for that shower, and then we’ll see about something to eat. I’ve got
some spareribs and turkey in the freezer. Pre-packaged, but not bad.”
“Sounds good to me.”
* * * *
Okay, so our
protagonist has caught his fish, so what is he going to do with it. Frankly, I
don’t believe Robert has the slightest idea. He’s acting on instinct. What do
you think? We’ll have our answer on Thursday the 20th.
I am still
asking for reviews of Wastelakapi, on Amazon.
Website and blog: markwildyr.com
Email: markwildyr@aol.com
Facebook:
www.facebook.com/mark.wildyr
Twitter: @markwildyr
Mark
Great read, looking forward to next chapter.
ReplyDeleteThanks, AR. Appreciate your taking the time to let me know.
ReplyDelete