Bus Stop

The smell of cigarette smoke and rain was particularly thick as Tommy Juzang trudged to the bus stop. Tommy cloaked himself in his trench coat, but the breeze seemed to cut through him anyway. He hadn't slept well the past night, the thought of today's meeting burned in the back of his brain. He had softened it with half a bottle of Jack Daniels, and now he was paying the price. Tommy sat on the cold bench of the bus stop and lit a cigarette.

Tommy didn't notice the old man until he began talking. The old man startled Tommy, causing him to drop his cigarette. Tommy cursed, and then lit another one.

"I'm sorry if I startled ya," the old man said. His voice was gravelly, but not tired like most would be at 5:30 in the morning. He seemed energetic even. Tommy nodded his head but did not respond. The old man shifted toward Tommy. "Where ya headed?"

Tommy took a drag from his cigarette, "Tucker and Juzang Law Firm."

"Are ya in need of lawyer?"

Tommy smiled, "No, I'm Juzang."

The old man laughed and clapped his hands together, as if he had just struck oil, "Oh! So I'm talking to the head honcho himself!"

Tommy took another drag of his cigarette and nodded his head. The cigarette was taking the edge of the hangover, but the old man and his loud talking was giving his headache new strength. "At least one of the two head honchos."

The old man leaned in close to Tommy. He smelled of Listerine and baby powder. "Ya know, I was a lawyer once."

"Really?"

The old man smiled and nodded. "You ever heard of "Big" Willy Berlusconi?"

Tommy blew smoke out of his nostrils like a dragon. Of course he knew who Big Willy was, he had been plastered in every newspaper in the 90s for his mafia-related crimes. "I've heard of him," Tommy said.

The old man's eager face turned solemn, and he began to speak slow and soft. "Well, back in the day, I was his d'fense attorney. The best in the biz. All them mafia bosses and cap'ns came to me when they were in a bind."

"Were you now?" Tommy said. If Tommy's memory was correct, and it was, the defense attorney for Big Willy had died shortly after Willy was convicted. Apparently, Big Willy's goons didn't think he had done a good enough job. "Didn't Willy Berlusconi get life without parole?"

The old man sat back as if Tommy was accusing him of something, and maybe Tommy was. "Yeah, but they were lookin' to give 'im the chair!" The old man's hand was shaking as he wiped his mouth. He believed the shit he was handing out. "It was everythin' I could do to keep 'im out of that chair."

"I meant no offense," Tommy said. He pulled out another cigarette and offered it to the old man. The old man took it, and Tommy lit it for him.

"Ya got kids?" the old man asked, taking a slow draw from his cigarette.

"No," Tommy said. "I don't think kids are in the cards for me."

The old man looked at him, "Why not?"

Tommy's leg began to shake. It was the same question his mother always asked. "I don't have the time." The old man nodded his head.

"How about you? Do you have kids?"

The man was quiet for a moment, before finally saying, "No kids, but I have a grandson I awfully like."

"Did your kids die, if you don't mind me asking?" Tommy said. The old man was quiet again, but this time he didn't answer. Tommy decided not to press him on the subject.

"You got a girl?" The old man said.

"Yeah, I have a girl I see sometimes." It was the girl that lived in the apartment above Tommy. Tommy had been dating her on and off for over a year, but had never committed to her.

"Sometimes?" the old man said.

"Yeah, I don't really like to put labels on things," Tommy said.

"I see."

"Did you--," Tommy began, but realized he was being rude, "do you have a girl?"

"I had a wife once," the old man said. He began twisting the golden ring on his hand, and Tommy knew he was telling the truth. "She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen." The old man smiled, and part of his eagerness returned. "You shoulda seen her back in 'er golden days. She sent all the boys wild... I spent a week beggin' at her door to give me a chance. And when she finally gave me one... the rest is history."

Tommy nodded his head and took another draw from his cigarette, which was almost faded to the filter. "What happened to her?"

The old man looked pained, "She died, a while back. She drown'd. It nearly killed me, yes it did... Cancer sure is a terrible thing." The old man took another slow draw from his cigarette. Tommy heard the whine of a bus engine. He stood up. "Are you leaving?" the old man said, fear flashing across his face.

"My bus is coming, I can't be late."

The old man nodded and lowered his head. "Can I tell ya something, before you go?" Tommy said sure. But the bus pulled up as the old man began to speak. It seemed to startle him, and he did not finish what he was going to say. The old man hung his head. The two half-doors of the bus swung open.

Tommy looked down on the man, so old and alone, and felt pity for him. "Don't beat yourself up about Berlusconi, he was a bad man, and you did your best," Tommy said.

The old man looked up at him, "Berlusconi?"

Tommy stared at the man for a moment, but finally turned away and boarded his bus. As he sat in one of the bus seats, he watched the old man, who still sat on the lonely bus stop bench. Was he waiting for a bus, or was he waiting for a person? Tommy did not know, but he suspected it was the latter.