Charlie ran away from home during a blizzard that turned the night into a black and white cocoon. Everything felt far away and the short walk to the subway station seemed to last an eternity, its completion a much deserved period at the end of a run-on sentence which wound its way around his thoughts. Charlie’s mind was reeling, the argument with his father repeating itself and producing alternate endings far worse than its actual outcome. Charlie imagined himself striking his father, imagined his frail body collapsing to the ground, imagined his mother’s sobs and tears. In reality Charlie had given up and finally slammed that rickety door behind him for the last time. He had no intention of returning home after hearing what his father had said to him.
Not knowing where to go at this time of the night, Charlie hopped on the A train and headed into the city. The train was as empty as the muddled world outside, and Charlie tried to imagine that something terrible had happened to the entire universe, that everyone had suddenly stopped existing except for him. He slumped into a corner seat in the empty car and closed his eyes, held on to this apocalyptic desire that somehow made him feel safe. He tried to remember how similar scenarios had played out in movies he’d watched many times. He imagined the abandoned city above him, New York in all its gloomy grimy grey glory, the incredible contradiction of greatness and catastrophe, the grandeur of its oppressive skyline. He fell asleep dreaming of the end of the world he hoped for.
When he awoke he was already in midtown. Stumbling out of the train and up into the street he learned that although empty the city was still very much alive. He stood on the corner of 8th Avenue and 44th Street and watched a lone yellow cab uselessly spin its wheels in the middle of the empty intersection. The surreal sight of this pathetically trapped animal was comical but also strangely frightening. Others passing by also stopped and watched as the cabbie opened his door and leaned out while still pressing down on the accelerator, watching the exasperated spinning of the rear tires. Soon a large man in coveralls stepped out into the street and began pushing the cab, and when it finally skidded forward clumsily the cabbie closed his door and let out two friendly honks in thanks for the stranger’s help.
Charlie remembered a childhood friend he hadn’t seen in a while who worked at a diner nearby and headed in that direction. When he arrived and asked for his friend a tired looking waitress said he had just missed him. She told him to sit down at the counter and placed a cup of coffee in front of him.
“Where you know him from?” she asked, her back turned to him.
“Oh, we went to school together. In Brooklyn.” The woman turned around and nodded.
“You work around here?” she asked after studying him for a moment.
“Nah. I was just, you know, in the neighborhood. Thought I’d stop by and say hello.”
The woman was silent again, still looking at him as she took a sip from her own cup of coffee.
“You alright, kid? You look frazzled.”
Charlie looked down into the dark abyss of his coffee and thought for a moment, tried to piece together some sort of explanation but came up short.
“Yeah. I’ll be alright. Rough night, that’s all.”
“You got a place to stay?” the waitress asked without missing a beat.
This caught Charlie by surprise. He honestly hadn’t thought about that yet. Leaving the house the way he did was so freeing he hadn’t yet considered the need for an actual destination or plan. For a second he thought he might just run away forever.
“Yeah, I’m good,” Charlie lied, and from the waitress’ reaction he could tell immediately that she knew it was a lie. She nodded again and then walked over to a booth at the other end of the restaurant where a bearded man he hadn’t noticed sat in silence surrounded by several large plastic bags filled with small paper stubs. The man looked up at Charlie and smiled a broad warm smile, lifted his cup of coffee and tipped his head as if giving a toast. Charlie nodded back. The waitress refilled the man’s cup and came back to the counter. Before Charlie could ask, the waitress obliged his curiosity.
“That’s Jesus. Comes in here every night. He’s a stooper.”
“He’s a what?”
“A stooper. You know these betting places around here? He collects all the tickets people throw out.”
“Why does he do that?” Charlie asked, truly confused.
“Because people are stupid. They throw out winning tickets,” the waitress said and let out a chuckle, smiling for the first time.
“Oh, I see,” Charlie said, clearly not understanding the logistics of this man’s enterprise.
Charlie remembered that his father used to gamble, though it had never become a problem due to his intrinsic cheapness. He remembered his father grumbling about the stupidity of gamblers shortly after deciding to never do it again himself. He was a hard-working man, accustomed to the rough life of farming but perennially unsuited for the challenges of the city.
“Hey, Jesus, you need any help sorting those tonight?” the waitress hollered across the restaurant, motioning with her head in Charlie’s direction.
Jesus looked at the waitress for a moment then turned to Charlie, taking him in.
“Yeah, I could use some help. My guys don’t want to come out in this weather, you know?” Jesus replied, talking to Charlie now.
It hadn’t yet sunk in for Charlie that he even needed help, and took him a few seconds to understand what was happening. When it did click a rush of dread came over him, followed instantly by a feeling of invincible possibility. In one fell swoop Charlie understood that he was his own man, that he could dictate the rest of his life.
Jesus and the waitress looked on as this transformation took place before them, its reverberations apparent in Charlie’s countenance. Charlie looked at Jesus again and looked at the plastic bags filled with failed dreams. Jesus smiled again.
“My wife is a great cook. She can make some gallo pinto will make you fall in love with her,” Jesus offered, again eliciting a chuckle from the waitress. “Made me fall in love, anyway.”
Charlie laughed at this and soon the three of them were laughing together. Jesus stood up and threw a couple of the bags over his shoulder.
“C’mon, kid. Help me carry these. The train comes in a few minutes.”
