The Subway Busker

Mentions depression.

Rose is walking slowly down the stairs of the subway. The shiny, chipped, and uneven floor tiles mean she needs to concentrate hard to make sure her ungainly figure doesn’t trip. Out of breath, she reaches the bottom step feeling miserable. She got out of the wrong side of bed this morning and she couldn’t shake the cloud of depression which hung over her. It being autumn and raining heavily, isn’t helping her mood.

Relieved that she made it down the steps in one piece, she doesn’t want a soaking wet bum and a sprained ankle. Again. Shaking her arms to get rid of some of the rain from her waterproof coat, she hears a faint sound in the distance. Is that someone singing? She ponders as she continues walking. The subway is a quarter of a mile long and looks like an octopus from the sky. Its tentacles spring off in different directions. She needs the furthest path and, not a fan of walking, she huffs. Typical. At least I’m dry though, I suppose, she thinks to herself as she continues towards the sound. She usually checks her phone when she walks under the subway, but the lights are broken again and it’s eerily dark. Her senses are heightened but she doesn't feel the fear she usually does from walking down here. Her feet continue walking towards the sound. Even though it’s coming from a different path than the one she needs, she follows it, unable to change course.

As she rounds the corner to take the path on her right which leads her under the road, she can make out a figure at the end. Mesmerised by his aura, she can't see him clearly, she quickens her pace. She stands behind a tall gentleman, sneaking looks around him, in a bid not to be noticed.

A busker. How cool, she thinks. His makeshift drum kit cheers her up no end. It's a large plastic bottle with a makeshift hammer on the end, and the bottom of an old roller skate imitates a pedal. He is sitting on a portable stool singing Bye-bye love, bye-bye happiness. Rose doesn’t know many Everley Brothers songs, but she recognises this one. Very apt seeing as she's recently dumped her boyfriend.

Rose shakes the unbidden thoughts from her head. That’s ancient history, Woman, she berates herself.

The tall gent has moved, and she can see the busker in full flow. She watches him, filled with curiosity. He’s well-dressed and not homeless. A group of young people have now joined in with him, they’re all playing tambourines and she can even hear a kazoo. She laughs. Wow, he seems to be enjoying himself. He looks about 50, the same age as her. He’s wearing a tweed jacket, pink trainers, and a baseball cap. Odd dress sense, she grins.

She averts her gaze to the floor, not wanting him to catch her staring. There is a bucket in front of him. Rose steps closer to read the label on it, her eyes not being as good as they once were. Oh my, he’s raising money for charity. Ahw, an animal charity this year. Her heart swells with gratitude. She works for an animal charity and they’re finding it hard to raise funds at present. Maybe he would help us? She ponders.

While she’s reading the bucket, he looks up at her. “Hi.” He says as he blushes. He seems shy. Strange for an entertainer. She muses.

“Hi,” she answers as she digs into her oversized handbag and pulls out her purse. “I’ve never seen you here before. Do you play here often?” Oh, my word, she groans to herself, that sounds like a very poor chat-up line. Dropping the coins she’s pulled from her purse into the bucket she looks at him. He has the most gorgeous hazel-coloured eyes. She can’t stop staring at them.

“Thank you,” he says, always grateful for the donations, “no, this is the first time I’ve played here. It seems to be good though. I’ve had quite a few donations and lots of compliments.”

“Ahw, that’s good. How long have you been busking? Sorry. I’m being nosy, aren’t I?”

“That’s OK.” He smiles. “It’s nice when people stop to talk. I’ve been busing for about 30 years. I started it to earn a bit of pocket money in my late teens, but I enjoy it so much I do it for charity now.”

“That's brilliant. I notice you’re raising money for an animal charity. Do you always fundraise for animal charities?”

“No, only this year. I always do local ones though. Why? Do you work for a charity?”

“Yes, yes, I do. An animal one just up the road. I’m off to work now. Late shift.” She says as if by way of explanation for her being under the subway at this time in the afternoon. “I was going to ask if you’d do something for our charity, but I guess you already have it sorted.”

He looks at her. She seems so dejected and her passion for the animals is obvious, even to a silly old fool like him.

“Well, it’s nearing the end of the year, so I’ll be choosing a new charity soon. Maybe we could grab a coffee sometime and discuss it?”

Shocked at himself, he’s never usually this forward, he looks down and fumbles in his bag for an instrument to play. Muttering an apology under his breath. He pulls out the tambourine and settles himself to start another song.

“I’d love to.” She answers. “Go for a coffee.” She responds to his blank look.

“Brilliant,” he smiles at her, here’s my card, give me a call and I’m sure we can arrange to do something for your charity.”

“Ooh, lovely, th.. thank you, Ben.” She stutters, disappointed that he only wants to discuss the charity.

She grabs the card from him and heads for the subway exit. She has to walk the long way round now, due to her detour. It’s worth it though, she says to herself, her mood now lighter than it has been for a long time. If she strains her ears, she can still hear him singing. Rose hums to herself, Sweet Caroline da da da, good times never…. She smiles. He’s made my day. I must remember to thank him the next time I see him.