“Chance Encounters
 of the
Close Kind”

© 2010 by Anel Viz. All rights reserved.

 

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

 

 3.  Rain

A dark gray sky, the noise of heavy rain deadening his ears, and at every turn another puddle blocked his path, deeper than his shoes were high.  The storm sewers had begun to back up.  His umbrella only protected his shoulders; his slacks, cold and waterlogged, clung to his calves.

He’d waited for the bus, and when it still hadn’t come ten minutes after the scheduled time, he’d set out on foot.  Few people had ventured out to brave the weather.  The rare car that drove by, sending a spray of water onto the nearly empty sidewalks, had its wipers going full speed.

A young man, little more than a kid, stood leaning against a shop window under the awning, his shoulders hunched, his hands clutching his upper arms.  No raingear, just a light windbreaker, jeans and sneakers.  He let go of one arm long enough to wipe away the water dripping down his face from the hair that lay plastered to his skull.

He didn’t intend it as a pick-up line.  He pressed a dollar bill into his hand and said, “Here, get yourself a cup of coffee before you catch pneumonia.”

“I got money.  I’m waiting for someone.”

“Don’t you have a cellphone?  Can’t you call whoever it is and say you’ll be somewhere else, somewhere warm?”

“I don’t know who I’m waiting for.  Might be you.”

How do you answer something like that?  “Then come with me to that coffee shop down the street and we’ll find out.”

There was a fireplace in the far corner, and near it a low table, a sofa and three overstuffed armchairs.  They sat facing each other.  The barista brought them their mochas.  The kid had insisted on paying for his own.

“What did you think you were doing, waiting for no one in particular on a day like this?”

“Nothing to do at my place.  It’s just one room and the TV’s busted.  You know how to fix televisions?”  He certainly had some unusual come-on lines, if that’s what they were.

“I’m afraid not.  Do you have a name?”

“Porter.”

“First or last?  I’m Michael.”

“First.  Porter James.  My parents named me backwards, figuring I had a first name already.  You got a car?”

“No, I took the bus downtown.”

“What for?”

“Errands.”

“Important?”

“Not really.  If I’d known the rain was going to turn into a downpour and the bus I needed to transfer to wouldn’t show, I’d have stayed home.”

“You wouldn’t have met me if you did.”

That was true enough.  The kid was very good looking, too, though where this was all leading he couldn’t tell.

“I only live four or five blocks from here.”

“In which direction?”

“South.”

So they’d be passing the bank, one of his errands.  He wouldn’t mention, though, in case the kid was planning to rob him.

“Got some frozen pizzas.  The oven still works.  We could get out of these wet things and hang them over the radiator to dry.”

“We’ll finish our mochas first, won’t we?”

“Yeah, maybe chat a little longer too.  It’s a nice fire; nothing like that at my place.  And who knows, maybe the rain will let up a bit.”

 

Posted: 01/08/10