S&S 2

David walked out of the apartment building, and stepped into the chilly, pallid light of the outside. The image of his father had stirred within him a profound sense of disgust, and at the same time, one of fear… the dread of carrying that monster’s genes, with them, the potential to become one himself.

He walked on despondently, on the same narrow sidewalk that he crossed every morning on his way to the bus stop. A few people were already moving about lethargically, going in opposite directions on either side of the cramped streets. Their heads buried in thick winter jackets, eyes weary and cast down to the ground, they all seemed guided by a will that was no longer their own.

Billy’s words seemed to echo louder in his mind now. He was more convinced than ever that he needed to make a drastic change in his life - and quickly! But how was he supposed to do it? It wasn’t easy to just pack it all up and disappear into the open world. And then, what would he do? Where would he go?

A bit further ahead, on the corner, Costa was opening his shop. David respectfully greeted him, but the man, although instinctively and immediately returning the greeting, clearly did not recognize the young man hurrying past him.

To David, the man also seemed profoundly changed - thinner and paler. Admittedly, he hadn’t seen him in quite some time. He usually tried to avoid him; out of embarrassment. He felt guilty for not buying his cigarettes from him anymore, preferring instead to go to the grocery complex at the intersection, where they sold them for much cheaper.

Costa had been a real model for their community, too - but also a warning sign. A former army comrade of his father’s, who David remembered even now, years later, had retired very young - much sooner than his colleagues - and used all his resources to open that kiosk in front of their apartment building. At a time when neighbourhood stores still meant a damned thing, Costa wanted to be his own boss. He believed, like many others back then, that he would do better if he only worked for himself - instead of giving away his own life to some old boss that couldn’t care less about him.

And for a while, it went as expected. He made good money. He expanded his shop, broadened his range of products. But like the many other pseudo - entrepreneurs of their sleepy old town, he quickly fell behind as well. He ignored the invasion of large chain - stores appearing more and more often throughout the city; with newer, more diverse products, and, of course, much more competitive prices.

For some time now, the shelves of his kiosk were mostly empty, and the majority of people who came into the shop came more to talk to Costa than to actually buy something from Costa, he was surprised to find the man’s wife at the checkout counter - instead of the pretty brunette saleswoman he always saw in the store when he returned from school. That beautiful saleswoman … which, at that time, he would’ve recognized anywhere just by her prominent cleavage … which he and his classmates would detour entire neighbourhoods to come and leer at, every day.

He had felt then that something was not quite right, but he was only convinced later when he saw that the products he had asked for were actually the last ones on the shelves. He realized they were the last because they still had the price tags on them. They were the display products.

Watching Costa’s wife there, trying to meticulously peel off the price tags from the packages with her long plastic nails before handing them over to him, he felt so embarrassed by the situation that he decided perhaps he shouldn’t buy anything from them for a while. And later that day, after tasting those expired chocolate wafers, he decided, - though regretfully - that he would never return to that store again.

An old woman was waiting on the corner of the street. David reached her and, as they both waited for the traffic to die down, so they could cross the intersection, he discreetly observed her for a few moments. It was not the first time he had seen her there and he always wondered, what was such an elderly woman doing walking down the streets at that hour, in that freezing cold weather? Then a man, older than David, joined them as well. A sober individual, neat, but just as drowsy as the rest of the passers-by, Judging by his clothes and briefcase, it seemed like he was going to work, somewhere in an office, probably, a warm, cosy office, somewhere in the city, the young man speculated, with the slightest hint of jealousy towards the man.

He looked left and right at the traffic which seemed to be getting increasingly congested. There were no traffic lights there, so they had to wait at the mercy of the careless, reckless drivers to give them the right of way. The roads were slippery after the rain - no one dared to step forward, to somehow force the cars to stop. There, you had to wait until you no longer saw any cars, from afar, in both directions - and only then could you try to cross the street in relative safety.

The old woman - David realized suddenly after looking at her again, more closely - had once been a teacher, at the Primary School, where he had also gone, from the first grade, all the way through the seventh.

She had seemed familiar from the start, but only now did he realize where he knew her from. The old woman certainly didn’t remember this, but David remembered perfectly that on his very first day of school, in second grade - after his mother had finally agreed to let him go to school alone (unaccompanied, but under the strict condition that he would be mindful of the cars) this old woman, then little younger, had helped him cross the street. It was a day very much like this one, David remembered. A foggy and damp September morning … David had been waiting, completely disoriented, at the pedestrian crossing for more than half an hour, helplessly watching the large cars that were passing by him hastily, with no apparent intention of stopping. He didn’t think at the time that he would ever get to school. He even thought about going back home, prepared to face the ruthless anger of his mother - who would certainly scold him for not being able to fend for himself, after all the fuss he had made. Then he felt a warm hand wrapping around his own. He looked to his right and saw that woman - he still couldn’t remember her name - and he immediately recognized her as teacher from his school. He had never had any direct contact with her, but he was certain he had seen her in the hallways, on the ground floor. She smiled at him, gently wrapped her hand around his frightened fingers, and they crossed the street together. Then, sensing the boy was slightly embarrassed by the situation, she let go of his hand and slowed down her pace, allowing him to take the lead.

Seeing her again after so many years, the young man felt very bad that he had not recognized her from the start. That he hadn’t even greeted her… But he still couldn’t remember her name… even though he was trying his best to remember this detail. And he had even recently read her name in a newspaper - an article in which he also found out that she had been fired from the school, on the grounds that she had taken way too many tender liberties with the boys in the fifth grade.

He suddenly woke up from his daydream when the man next to them coughed loudly. A nasty morning smoker’s cough, sticky and abrasive. Then, the same man - probably tired of waiting for so long - immediately stepped forward into the street. One of the cars, moving much too fast to stop in time, passed by him quickly, just barely avoiding him, and nearby hitting a traffic sign on the other side of the street.

The man cursed as loudly as he could at the driver who had almost hit him, then continued on his way. Another car braked abruptly next to him, honking repeatedly, but the man completely ignored it and kept going, waving his briefcase irritably, back and forth.

Seeing that the cars behind them were starting to stop as well, David ventured forward, following the man, also looking back at the old woman, who was moving more slowly, but was confidently following in their footsteps - to the indignation of the recalcitrant drivers in the cars, who were forced to wait on her.

On the other side of the street, the grey city was also starting to wake up. Children ran past him with enormous backpacks on the backs. They shouted thing which David couldn’t understand. Maybe they were playing some new game of their own generation, which the young man had long been out of touch with.

A group of ragged old pensioners had already gathered in front of the nearby Bodega. They had pulled out a few plastic chairs onto the sidewalk and were warming themselves up with a glass of Brandy. They were discussing football matches and political preferences. David only heard fragments of these details, as he passed by them, and suddenly felt more tired than ever. He didn’t like discussions about football and nothing seemed more irrelevant to him than the unsolicited opinion of the average person about the political situation of the state.

Then he thought that maybe he shouldn’t drink brandy anymore, either… It was too much of an old man’s drink!

He reached the bus stop and sat down on a cold wooden bench. He yawned for a long time… Then he felt and ice - cold shiver rapidly traversing his entire spine. He began to tremble slightly. Maybe he should start wearing a jacket, he thought. He could no longer endure the cold in his worn - out jacket and sweater.

On the bus, he struggled not to fall asleep - he had to change a few busses after a few stops and couldn’t risk dozing off again, to wake up, as before, on the opposite side of the city - at the very end of the bus line.

He was tired, sleepy; and he didn’t want to go to work at all. On such a day, he would have preferred to stay at home, under the blanket. To sleep, or watch TV. He wished he could be child again, and not have so many responsibilities, all the time. To not have all the money and the well -being of his family dependent on his constant presence at a mediocre job. A shit - job, which wasn’t leading anywhere anyway and, moreover, wasn’t even adequately compensating him for the effort. All that getting up every morning at five, or the never - ending commute with the cold and always crowded bus, to get there, wasn’t even worth the trouble anymore - it ate up all his time and he barely made enough money to get by, from one week to the next.

On the way to the outskirts of the city, where he had managed to find a day job on the building site, he saw through the frosty window the still abandoned tech workshop, on Spain Street. He immediately remembered Billy and a large, involuntary smile, which he hadn’t felt in a long time, stretched upon his lips. How many hours, or days, weeks, or months, or maybe even years, had they spent together in the backyard of that workshop, surrounded by tall concrete blocks and barbed wire fences? Playing hide and seek with the other neighbourhood kids. Or studying -when it was just the two of them - the intricacies of porn magazines, which they subtly appropriated from their father’s drawers and cupboards. The hidden and foul - smelling places between those giant slabs of concrete, stacked on top of each other, like an abstract, misshapen sculpture, where they taught each other how to masturbate and together invented various new techniques for doing it better. The places where they had exchanged the horror stories of their childhood, or the pleasant ones as well - about their fictional yet vivid interactions with girls and women of all kinds, whom they frequently encountered in their childish fantasies.

He yawned deeply - then he wondered, what time did Billy in all of his financial independence - had to wake up now? He bet his friend did not have to report to no boss, at 6am, every morning … And also, how could he sleep at night, after a whole day of so - called business? Which David, having grown up in the neighbourhood, knew exactly what it could entail…?

He was glad, however, to have seen him again, after so long, the night before. Even if they had found each other there, in the darkness of a slimy bar; among the greasy pool tables and the lousy slot machines, which only gave a meagre jackpot once a year.