Milestones

So I've finally made it to the halfway point in my current project. I'm not sure why I'm excited about that. It's only halfway to a rough draft that i'm sure will get revised 2-20 times over. So to say I'm halfway isn't really accurate. I'm more like 17%, maybe. I like milestones though. It makes me feel like I'm accomplishing something. 

Here's a little excerpt:

     The whole month of November was a blur. I spent the days working any odd jobs I could find and when I couldn’t find anything I went and sat around at the Labor Ready. It wasn’t glamorous by any means, but I’d been able to keep paying my bills and working a couple times a week with John gave me an amble tab at the bar.

     All month long my sister had been calling me. I never called her back because I knew what she’d say. “It’d be really great if you came out for Thanksgiving. Both your father and I would appreciate seeing you. I’ll even come pick you up if you want.” It was the same thing every year and for the past 5 years I’d just ignored her calls but when the day finally came I decided to go.

     I guess that’s one of the strange things about holidays. As much as you can say you hate the holidays when it comes down to it what you really hate is the idea of being alone for them.  And while she’d have been more than happy to drive across town to pick me up, I opted to take the long ride north on the 358.

     Now when people talk about the roughest buses in Seattle two are always mentioned before the rest, the 7 and the 358, and it’s usually a tossup as to which is actually worse. I’d say the major difference is that the 358 has less gang violence and more prostitution. Personally I’d rather deal with some ghetto punk running his mouth behind me than some cheap skank trying to rub up on my crotch. But that might just be me.

     Being as it was a holiday nothing was moving quickly. While the bus would usually come every ten to fifteen minutes it came once an hour. And with just my luck I’d missed the transfer by 5 minutes. After cursing the driver of my first bus for not going through a yellow light that very well could have been the difference in me having to waste an hour downtown or not, I walked down to Pioneer Square hoping that at least a convenience store would be open.

     I walked the length of downtown without encountering a single person on the sidewalk and only occasionally seeing a car drive by. All of the litter of the work week blew aimlessly in the cool breeze coming off the sound but no signs remained of those who caused it. Pigeons ruled this world.

     Pioneer Square was just as empty except for the occasional huddle of junkies or other types whose actions deny them the luxury of family. I went in the direction that these groups seemed to be more prevalent, hoping that meant something was open nearby.  Sure enough after a couple blocks I came across the Save Way Grocer.

     Save Way was one of the more interesting places in the city. It was too large to be considered a minimart but too small to be a grocery store. They stocked most of the basics that you’d find at a major grocery, however most of the products had spent so much time on the shelves their labels had faded away and dust coated the tops of the packaging. The only things that kept them in business were cigarettes and beer, and that’s all I needed of them.

     The only problem that I have with the place is that they have a strict policy of not selling single beers and since the city prohibits the sale of 40 ouncers in the neighborhood I had to buy a six-pack. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem, but my family abhors alcohol and as much as I’d say I couldn’t care less what they think of me, I never drank in their presence. Family dynamics are a funny thing.

     When I got out onto the sidewalk there was a circus of people loitering outside panhandling for anything they could come across. A man asked me for a beer and I offered to sell him half of what I’d just bought. He was happy to fork over the three dollars. I guess sometimes things do work out in my favor.

     I drank the other three beers quickly as I walked back up through the city. I avoided the main streets, knowing very well there weren’t any cops. But there was something more settling about the dark alleyways. I never felt comfortable on the wide sidewalks whether they were scattered with people or completely devoid of life.

     As I walked in the shadow of the skyscrapers I came across a young woman hiding behind a dumpster furiously trying to get a flame from a lighter that lacked the fuel necessary. I tried to walk loudly so as not to startle her, but she was so focused on her mission that I was within a few feet of her by the time she notice and she jumped in terror.

     “I’m not doing anything wrong! Get away from me!”

     “Chill out lady, I don’t care what you’re doing.”

     And with those few words her demeanor changed completely.

     “Hey do you have a lighter? Mine isn’t working. I think something’s wrong. I don’t know what it could be. I just bought this lighter yesterday. It was working fine this morning but now it doesn’t. I just bought it yesterday. I mean shouldn’t a lighter last more…”

     If I didn’t stop her she could have gone on forever, “yeah I’ve got one.”

     I handed her the lighter thinking that she just needed to light a cigarette, instead she pulled out a long piece of glass with a bubble at the end. “What did I just get myself into,” I thought to myself. She held the flame under the glass and began to rock it gently back and forth. After a few seconds the white substance inside burst into gas and began rapidly escaping into her lungs. The lighter after being used for so long became extremely hot and she dropped it into a nearby puddle out of shock as she continued to inhale deeply. As soon as she had stopped inhaling she exhaled a cloud of thick white smoke that smelt noxious like a hospital.

     She fumbled twice as she tried to pick up the lighter before I just grabbed it myself.

     “Thanks so much. I really needed that. You wanna hit?”

     “I don’t even know what you’re smoking in that thing, but I think not.”

     “This shit here is the best glass in Seattle. Get you high for days.”

     “Yeah I think I’m good on that.”

     During our exchange the drug was obviously taking over her. She began to fidget more and more and her eyes dilated into large onyx discs.  Her motions all seemed to be in fast forward as she gathered all her belongings.

     “So where are we off too?” she said as if it were the only logical question.

     “Eh, well I’ve got a bus to catch; I’m not sure what you’re doing.”

     “What! You’re just going to abandon me here after you get me all fucked up?”

     I started walking away backwards. “Look lady, I didn’t get you to do anything. You just asked me for a lighter.”

     She jogged a few steps to catch up, “Well what am I supposed to do now?”

     “I don’t know, hadn’t you thought about that before you did your thing back there?”

     “I wasn’t thinking about anything but getting a lighter.”

     As we crossed Seneca I started to walk faster, she had not problems keeping up.

     “Well you can’t follow me around all day. I’ve got things I have to do.”

     “What kind of things?”

     “Things. Why don’t you just wander around the square?”

     “Oh there’s nothing but junkies down there.” I had to bite my tongue. “They just want to use you until your shits gone and then bail. I don’t want that.”

     “What about the U District. I’m sure there’s plenty of people there your age.”

     “Huh, never been. How do I get there?”

     “Just hop on one of the 70’s. I’ll show you, it’s really easy.”

     Over the walk I told her of places to go while she’s out there; south campus, the Ave, anywhere that I wasn’t going to be. By the end she seemed excited to be going someplace new. We made it to the stop at University just as the 72 was pulling in.

     “Well this is your chariot.”

     She waved as she boarded the bus.  “Thanks!”

     I wondered briefly if I’d ever see her ever again, but was interrupted by the braking hiss of the 358.