Smiling

Seasonal changes bring a shift in light and temperature. The late afternoon sun pauses briefly before running off to some dark bar on an anonymous side street, could be anywhere. A street of empty lots and rooms full of empty chairs. The emptiness is what makes it real. For rent signs in windows, stagnant pools of pavement gathering moss between the cracks, every corner a ghost town. There are a few of us left now. I shrug off my coat and sit next to a man with long hair. He slurs his words when he tells me "People call me Jesus at work. They're afraid of me there." "Work" he tells me is a factory job. He likes it there, he does good. Management appreciates him because he works hard and picks up the long shifts no one else wants. He keeps his head down and brushes his hair out of his face. "There is a woman at work who isn't afraid of me. Her locker is next to mine, and she says hello to me sometimes. When she walks by she smiles at me." He says that maybe there is something there. He says "All I ever want is to be noticed. That is respect, just for someone to acknowledge that I am here." He picks up his glass and sets it down without taking a drink, leaving behind traces of fingerprints. His wife died in a car accident four years ago and left him with two kids. She had always been paranoid about cars and was certain she would meet her death this way. She was like this for years before she finally met her foreseen fate. Maybe she wasn't crazy after all or maybe she finally made her life become what she thought it should be. We are always told to make our own way in life. I guess for some that includes death. It took years for her end to play out. In all that time he never left her. With two kids that were an accident and the cause of their marriage on paper at least, he would have stayed with her despite the court's consent. The kids are almost old enough to be out on their own. He worries about whether or not he's been good enough to them, but tells me he's done the best he can and that's all anyone can do. I nod in agreement and pay my bill. The light has been gone for awhile. My fingers curl around the door handle and I walk outside. The world expands in the night air but I feel myself closing in and settling somehow. I pass his car in the parking lot. I know it is his because there is a black and white spotted pit bull panting at the window, alone in the dark, smiling.