The shuttle sweeps along its rails as an ice dancer without a partner. The low hum of the engine vibrates the vinal that I currently sit in. The Train, subtle, inviting. As I have gathered from all the clues on my person, destination is un-determined at the present. You see, on a dare a friend purchased a ticket for me, and his friend, the steward are keeping the ticket from me.
I’ve would have never, EVER done anything like this two weeks ago. I am as people say… straight laced. The routine guy. The sad little man behind the cubicle entering numbers from column A to B and so on. I eat alone, I sleep alone, I, am alone. I really don’t see what the problem is though. Nothing seems missing yet, everyone asks me what’s wrong. I think I just don’t fit into the box that some people call “normal” I suppose. Jake, my only real friend I met since I moved here 5 years ago. He calls me a Cool Looser. Out of love of course. I hope.
I met Jake while applying for my first ever job after moving to the city. We were both applying for the same job. I was 45 minutes early of course. He walks in with 5 to spare, tie disheveled, suit coat half on with wrinkled papers sticking out of his tattered, patched, very old briefcase. After the door closes behind him, he politely composes himself, clears his throat gently and then walks toward me. The seat was vacant next to me, in fact all five of them were but he chose the one right next to me… and that was it. I am not so big with the words but jake spoke for both of us. He asked, “After we both bomb this interview, lets say we get a few beers and talk about life and shit?” I reply back with, “um…” and there we were, at Ernie’s Bar on east thirty-fifth and Summit avenue.
And there we were. I was over-qualified and unsure about Jake’s interview although I can imagine. With $47.03 cents in my bank account until my next payout from my grandmothers will, she was weird like that. Allowing not one lump sum but a payout over each months time of exactly $1000.00 per month allowed me to pay bills, print resumes, and food/drink and whatever self indulgence I might procure. There was none.
Nana made her fortune in oil. Old money inherited from ancestor to ancestor. I, to be honest, have no idea how the fortune was actually made but it was an abundance. I, being adopted was only worth a grand a month due to not being full blood “Buxley.” Buxley and Simon own half of the town, including 2 hotels, 3 banks, and countless other businesses abroad… and a llama farm. The farm? Yeah, I didn’t ask on that one. I do have access to the country club but have never went. Too many people and I am how you say, the cornucopia of social awkwardness.
Jake bought the first, second and third rounds of shots. I was reluctant to accept but Jake has a way of talking people into just about anything. I know that one thing happened that night, and that one thing is that… I.. just don’t remember.
Here I sit. On a train, I smell rancid. But dressed in a whole new wardrobe, and a nice one at that. I look around and see no one. Not one solitary person. The track seemed to lull me back to sleep, as my now pounding head starts bobbing I open my right eye to see a piece of nicely folded paper in my front right pocket, half out of it I grabbed the parchment and began unfolding it. It read (In Jake’s handwriting) ”