Throwaways: A Short Story
It is a cold, clear night. Two men sit talking on a bench under a lighted overhang, waiting for the electric train to come. The first man is tall and rather lanky, and his gray hair is balding atop his head. The other man is rather short and stout, and wears a pair of silver aviator glasses.
“ You didn’t know any of the folks that did it...did you?” Asks the man with glasses.
“...Two guys, actually…”
“Damn! It’s becoming more and more common, isn’t it?”
“Yup. S’pose it’s some means of “self-expression.” I call it sick.”
“...But their poor families…”
“Most of ‘em don’t have much for families...You know how the people of this city are. Half of these kids grow up with no father and a crack addict for a mom.”
“...Gaw…Sure makes you wish you could do something about it-”
“Isn’t that the problem! “Democracy” we call it, but the mayor’s office is just a revolving door. They don’t know what it’s like to live down here.”
“...Damn…”
The balding man lights a cigarette and looks out into the night, at the rails that stretch into the night, at the T-Mobile store and the Chinese restaurant with the flickering neon sign.
“You think they’ll ever fix that sign?” Asks the man wearing aviator glasses.
“Tch...It’s been that way for years...I doubt it’ll change.”
The man who asked the question shakes his head.
“Mind if I have a light?” He says.
“Sure thing.” The flame bursts to life and then settles on the slender white column, illuminating the dark with a reddish glow.
“How are you lately, Dillon?”
The bald man puffs out a little cloud of smoke.
“I suppose I’m okay…”
“You still tryin’ to teach yourself the piano? When we talked last week, you were learnin’ on that grand piano you inherited from your mom.”
The bald man sighed. “Had to sell it...”
“What? Why? You loved that old thing!” “...Well, son’s gotta go to college, you know..”
“Mmm...I see…”
The two smoke their cigarettes in silence.
Another figure approaches the lighted train stop. The figure is a woman. She wears a trenchcoat. She is black-haired and brown-skinned. She sits on the bench in between the two men.
“Evenin’, boys.”
“Evenin’, Jenna,” says the man with the aviator glasses.
“How you two doin’?” Jenna greets the two men.
“Same as the usual,” says the man with the aviator glasses.
“Can’t complain. Yourself?” says the other.
“You know, I’m doin’ alright...Saw my daughter today. She makes me so proud. You know she’s takin’ classes at the community college?...Says she wants to be a welder.”
The man with the aviator glasses beams. “That’s wonderful,” he says.
“I know, isn’t it?” Jenna laughs to herself. “She’s got a lot more ambition than I ever had.”
“It’s a lot more than anyone’s got around here…” says the balding man.
The woman frowns. “Now hold on there...Don’t be so negative. We got plenty of good people in this neighborhood.”
The balding man rolls his eyes. “You kidding me, Jenna? You’ve seen these kids, haven’t you? They don’t even finish high school anymore. They quit halfway and end up workin’ fast food.” He shakes his head. “They just throw away their futures.”
“Dillon...we all do. You an’ I, we’re just tryin’ to make our own light…It’s the only way we make progress...”
“Yeah, well they call this electric train “progress” too, you know. And what’s it done for us? Less parking for us and less business for the restaurants.”
“Ha!” Jenna stifles a laugh.
“What?” Asks Dillon, puzzled.
“Well you’re sittin’ here complaining about the train while you wait for the train itself!”
Dillon tries to maintain his aloofness, but he can think of nothing to say.
“You know, speaking of the train, shouldn’t it it be here by now?” says the man with the aviator glasses.
“I was just thinkin’ the same thing,” Jenna replies.
A police car speeds by, sirens wailing.
“Oh dear…” says Jenna.
“You don’t think it’s…”
Jenna rises from the bench and begins to walk out along the tracks. The two men follow. Up ahead, flames rise from the tracks. A maroon Chevy Tahoe, smashed to smithereens, lies crumpled across the tracks. And the gleaming white train is halted and the front destroyed. The driver’s seat is an inferno. Two police cars are parked on either side of the track, lights flashing, sirens blaring. And a fire truck is parked beside the tracks, and the firefighters are dashing about spraying the flames with great hoses.
“Firefighters aren’t doing much good,” Dillon muttered. “Might as well be pouring gas on those flames.”
The man with the aviator glasses shakes his head.
“Officer?” Jenna calls.
“Ma’am, this is a dangerous area. Please stay back.”
“But...officer...I just have to know...what happened here?”
The officer looks back and forth between the woman and the flames. Finally, he answers hesitantly. “...Well, ma’am, if you really wanna know...it’s just like it looks...boy’s driven out in front of the train. Ended his life just like that. Now leave, or I’ll have you arrested.”
Jenna shakes her head. Dillon and the man with aviator glasses exchange looks.
“Another one…”Dillon whispers.
Jenna is silent, lost in thought.
“That’s the third one this week,” Dillon says.
“Maybe...Maybe they’re tryin’ to tell us something,” says the man with the aviator glasses.
Jenna turns around. “ Well boys, guess we’d best be finding a new way to get home...I think I’ll walk to the bus stop. It’s a pretty night, anyways.” She looks up at the purple night sky and then back at the two men. “Well...you coming with me?”
The balding man shakes his head. “Nah…’tsokay...we’ll wait for the train.”
“You sure? It’ll be a few hours yet.” “I know.”
“Crazy, crazy fellas...Take care then, you two.”
“Take care, Jenna.” says the man with the aviator glasses.
And she walks down the tracks by the light of the snowy lamp posts.
And then Dillon looks around to make sure no one is watching, reaches into his pocket and pulls out a long, flat, rectangular piece of ivory. He stares at it for a moment, and then he grasps onto it, and as he does, his hand trembles. And a tear falls from the bald man’s eye, and it freezes in the air, flashing red in the firelight before it hits the ground.