Chiron

This day is cursed. I glare at the disposable coffee cup I just dropped, its contents half sloshed across the bottom of the cafe door and half still soaking into my pant leg. The splatters resemble a Jackson Pollock, with streaks of milky brown splattered against the paintwork. I could call the piece FML and make millions at auction.

My heavy sigh matches the muggy, sticky heat of the dying day. The lingering heat seems to wilt my spirit even further. The bag of pastries is still dry, at least. Ruining them would have been a genuine tragedy. I try locking the door again, irritation ebbing as I successfully juggle the keys, pastries, and my second cup of coffee, with no further mishaps. Giving the colourful sunset a glare, I grumble, “Showoff,” before turning to walk towards the bus stop.

My feet are aching in my shoes at any further movement and my back is screaming to just sit already. Why can’t I be at home, gorging on take away, and cocooned on the couch watching tv? Why did past me promise Nic I’d go to the club tonight? Guilt from dodging his invites for months, that’s why. I shake my head in frustration. I know he wants me to get back out there, but I’m not ready, despite one or two attempts.

They didn’t go well. Bombed spectacularly is closer to the truth, and I officially hate dating apps. But Nic is a persistent fucker, and I knew he'd get me to cave before long. It’s just my luck that instead of a slow Saturday, customers have been hammering me today and I’m dead on my feet.

When I reach the end of the block, I spot one of the unhoused people from this neighbourhood. Maybe my luck is turning. I was hoping I’d catch him. He’s sitting in an alcove on top of a beaten up sleeping bag, legs crossed, with his back resting against the building. His ratty backpack sits open next to him and, as usual, his nose is in a dogeared, well used book. 

“Hey dude! I’ve got goodies for you.” I lift the offering to snag his attention. He looks up with a smile and waves, propping his book open across his knee to save his place.

“Hey Chi. How’re you?”

“I’m okay. You? How’s your book?” I squat to hand him the coffee and the bag of pastries.

“Ah ya know, same old shit. I’ve read this book lots of times. It’s one of my favourites.”

He digs into the bag, pulling out a croissant and bringing it up to his nose to savour the scent of the buttery concoction. Anticipating the deliciousness, he waggles his eyebrows before shoving half the pastry into his mouth and chasing it with a big slug of coffee. 

“Man, you’re the best. This shit hits the spot.” He garbles his words around the food in his mouth. 

“It’s no problem, just stuff that didn’t sell. Try the apple pie tart next. I think it turned out well.” I narrow my eyes on him. “But remember, you're welcome to drop by the cafe for a more substantial meal. The offer always stands. Plus, if you leave it too long, my mom will think you’re not her friend anymore.” I give him a teasing grin.

“No need to worry about me. I ain’t forgotten. Will you tell your mom I said hi?”

I nod my head at him in resignation and say goodbye. We both know he won’t come. We’ve had this conversation at least a dozen times, but I want to keep extending the invitation. If he won’t come in for lunch, stale pastries and paid forward coffees will suffice.   

As I trudge towards the bus, I belatedly remember I need extra ingredients for dinner. I make the detour into the corner shop with an internal groan. The shop is small and cluttered, with narrow aisles and overfull shelves piled from floor to ceiling with everything from apples to za’atar. While standing in the aisle, waffling between brown or white rice, a small elderly woman startles me with a barked order. 

“Young man! Hand me that bag of pasta off the top shelf.” Even though I’m sure she could reach it as easily as I could, seeing as we’re the same height, I reach up on my tiptoes, grab the bag, and hand it to her. Her eyes scan me, giving a shrewd assessment. “Are you single? My granddaughter is looking for a boyfriend and you appear to be the opposite of her usual type. I assume you bathe regularly and have a job,” she pauses, “and can read.”

Taken aback by her blunt rudeness, I glance down to double check if I look as rough as I feel. Fatigue clings like a leech after the long shift. My hair feels flattened and sweaty from being trapped under a bandana. I’m still wearing my creased and dirty work uniform - plain black jeans, a black tee, and Vans. I’m certain I smell of B.O. and burnt coffee. Not to mention the coffee splatters staining my pant leg. If I’m a contender in my current state, those other men must be awful.

I bite back a grimace. “Sorry, ma’am. I’m sure your granddaughter is wonderful, but I’m not looking for love right now. Thanks anyway.” 

Her shoulders slump in defeat, and she flicks her hand in dismissal. “Oh well, nevermind then.” She turns and marches towards the tills, a woman on a mission. I wince at her retreating form. I’m sure I dodged a bullet there. Who knows, it could’ve been a self-loathing type of fun.

Getting groceries makes me just late enough that I have to chase the bus. Thankfully the driver sees me running and waits. As I clamber aboard, I shift the grocery bag straps from one hand to the other and dig into my pocket for my bus card. 

He waves towards the seats with a grin. “Don’t worry about it, cutie.” 

My cheeks, already warm from the sudden jog, now radiate even stronger as a blush engulfs them. He winks and pulls the bus away from the curb while I step over people’s legs and stumble down the aisle to plop into the first available seat. 

“I think that bus driver likes you.” I feel the intensity of my seatmate’s hopeful stare as I arrange the bags at my feet, trying my best not to elbow her accidentally. 

I glance at her in confusion. “What makes you say that? I’d say he thought I was going to drop dead if I didn’t sit after that athletic display. Ya know, keep the bus moving and prevent medical emergencies.” I crack a smile at my joke. 

Unamused, she ticks off each point with her fingers as she enlightens me. “First, he stopped the bus when he saw you running. Second, he let you ride for free. Third, he called you cutie. And most importantly, he watched your ass in the mirror the entire way down the aisle.” She gives me a triumphant smirk, sure of my agreement with her assessment. I consider her arguments and dismiss them. She’s reading too much into it. 

“Nah, I’m sure he was just being nice.” She stares at me, blinking and questioning my level of intelligence.

“If you’re into it, try to get his number. I know what I saw.” I roll my eyes and shake my head at her, too tired for this conversation. Then I pull earbuds from my pocket and fit them into my ears. She shrugs, turning back to the window. “Your loss.”

I shuffle my favourite playlist, letting the music help me relax the tension in my body. I lean my head back on the seat and close my eyes, trying to forget I’m on a loud, smelly, bus at the end of a long shitty shift. 

An eternity later, I drag myself through my front door, fling my keys into the wooden bowl on the entryway table and toe off my shoes. I could have walked faster than the bus, which was crawling at a snail’s pace through downtown traffic. Yet another reason cycling to work is better. 

“Bitches, I’m home! Anybody here?”

No answer. Jade’s shower is running and happy k-pop is blaring from the bedroom. I drop the bags to the floor and flop face first onto the couch. Before I can properly deflate, my stomach lets out a massive, angry growl. I guess that’s my cue to start dinner. Retrieving the heavy canvas grocery bags and moving into our small kitchen, I set them on the countertop to unload and get to work chopping vegetables.

While I’m busy, Jade’s shower stops and Nic’s footsteps amble across the hall. A few moments later, the main bathroom shower starts. The realisation that Nic and Jade are both going to be ready to leave before me spurs me to finish. I don't want to keep them waiting, so I dash to put dinner in the oven and set a timer. Enough wishy-washing. I promised I’d go, so I’ll go. I nod resolutely at my decision and head to my room to change clothes.