The Man and The Boy

The bike glided to a stop, the slush underneath squelching under the tires. He turned the key, and the rev of the engine was replaced with the hush of the wind. The man slowly exhaled, breathing out and gazing at his own breath frosted by the night air. He stayed seated just a moment longer, then swung a leg over and stood up. 

Reaching across the seat, he unbuckled a small bag and hoisted it onto his shoulders. The man brushed a single snowflake from his mustache, then sloshed over to the entrance. The door was shoved, and the man was suddenly washed in dim yellow lights. 

A single tumbling could be heard from a distant machine, and the odd odor of fresh linen and stale water replaced the refreshing air. Pausing yet again at the entrance, already restricted by the environment, the man sighed. He wandered to a washer far in a corner, and popped a lid, the door sliding closed behind, trapping the suffocating laundry air inside yet again. 

The bag was unshouldered, and unzipped. Individual items were grabbed from the bag - first a pair of jeans, some crumpled socks, a black t-shirt, and so on. The man fished each item out, then closed the lid and zipped the bag. A little tray was jankily shaken open, filled, and then just as jankily closed. The beeps of settings pierced the silence, seemingly much louder when disturbing such still air. The man turned, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. And that’s where his hand remained suspended, noticing the duct tape covering the output slot. “Out of Quarters” was hastily scrawled across.

Well fuck.

The man turned back, undoing his actions. The clothes were halfway back into the bag, when a small voice piped up.

“Hey sir, do you need a quarter?”

The man, startled, turned suddenly, staring at the one machine still tumbling. Then he turned down. A boy gazed up, shoving two quarters practically into the man’s palm.

“No”

The man turned back.

“So do you just come here to sitesee then?”

Unamused, the man simply rezipped the bag. He turned, bumping into the boy and pushing him sideways.

“Ow”

“Sorry” The man grumbled.

“Look, age and ego aside, just take some damn quarters. Clearly you’re here to do your laundry, so just accept it already.”

The man was startled for the second time in the past three minutes. 

Seeming to realize the facade slipping, the boy quickly added, “Plus, you already stink, I’m really doing a favor for everyone.”

The man, caught off guard again, glanced at the boy, still clutching the quarters, then at his watch, then back at the boy. Sighing, he reached his hand down and turned his palm up. The boy beaming, placed two quarters into the man’s hand, then dug into his pocket and pulled out a handful more.

“Thanks”

And yet again, the man turned back to the machine and opened the lid, but not before looking back at the boy. The boy's eyes gleamed with a sort of pride that only comes from helping another, but beneath the man saw deeper. A sense of gratitude. 

Finally, the washer was filled, the fee paid, and the thirty-six minute timer began counting down as water filled the drum. The man turned back, the boy now seemingly gone. Not gone, the man realized, rather standing behind the one machine still running, dwarfed by the size of the machinery. 

Exiting, the man sucked in the cold air, purging his lungs from the laundry dust. He took a seat on the entrance step, planting his boots firmly into the slush. He gazed into the darkness across, a single streetlamp and the establishment glow behind him being the only things separating him from a void. The man reached into the inner pocket of his coat, and pulled out a pack of diamonds. Pulling out a single pick, the man placed it softly between his teeth, and returned the pack to its rightful home. The man tilted his head back, looking upwards into the void and gazing at the only true sources of light.

This peace lasted only a moment, when it was broken by that same wash of artificial lights. The boy slid down next to the man, his red winter boots kicking the slush around. Focusing on the splashing noise seemingly for a moment, the boy rested his legs, planting his feet firmly in the slush next to the man. The man remained unphased, not necessarily ignoring the boy so much as not leaving his own world. The boy took a moment, and simply tilted his head back to gaze up at the stars as well.

“Aren’t you cold?” 

The boy finally cracked the silence. The man said nothing.

“I mean, cause I would be cold sitting out here. I mean - I guess your jacket is probably pretty warm though. I always wanted a jacket like that, to make me look cool. Is it one of the real ones, like a Hells Angel fighter pilot or something?”

The man, refusing to be amused, replied simply, “Sure”

The boy lit up again.

“Wow, that’s sick. That’s so wild, I’m gonna tell my brother when he comes back and make him so jealous. I met a real gang member-”

At this the man scoffed.

“Oh, sorry, guess that stuff shouldn’t be said out loud.” The boy paused, thinking of a way to keep the conversation engaged.

“Hey, what are you getting for Christmas? I wanted a new bike, one of the mountain ones that can actually jump the ramps we made out on the trails” At this the boy gestured into the void across the street, “but mom said I’m too old for presents, and now I’ve gotta be the man of the house, and take care of my brothers and sisters - there’s six of us you know, and now I’m the second oldest, and…” The boy stopped rambling for a moment. His voice wavered a bit, “And when I head home, it's going to be the first morning I don’t get a present.”

Was it actually Christmas already? The man for the first time broke his gaze from the stars to look down at his watch, as if it would tell him the day.

The boy, realizing he let his bravado slip, puffed out his chest a bit and pointed at the toothpick in the man’s teeth.

“So, ya think that thing makes you cooler?”

A pause in the air. The boy slouched, his chest deflating.

“I’m sorry, that was kind of disre-”

“Yeah” The man spoke. The boy froze.

“It does”

The boy looked confused.

“What does?”

“It does make you cooler.”

The boy’s eyes widened with excitement. All previous thoughts were discarded as he hesitantly asked, almost as if coaxing a puppy, “Can I have one?”

Once again, the man reached into his inner pocket, and with the boy’s gaze eagerly following his movements, the man effortlessly flicked out a single toothpick, closed the pack, and slipped it back into his jacket. With the same tenderness the man used to place it within his own teeth, the man laid the pick in the outstretched hand of the boy, just between the index and middle fingers.

The boy stared in awe at this trophy that befell his fingertips, gingerly raised it to his lips, and grasped it with his teeth.

“Woah”

The boy adjusted the pick to the other side of his mouth.

“It does make you cooler”

The man opted to remain silent once again, returning to his own world amongst the inky tapestry. The boy, not content with this, started once more.

“So why are you here?”

“Laundry” This response, while dull, was a response nonetheless, and the boy’s battle of conversation was being viewed as successful, or at least in the makings of success.

“Well duh, that’s obvious. I mean why now, and why here. See, I’ll start. I need to wash my sister’s teddy bear.” The boy paused, hoping this would intrigue the man enough to ask for a continuation. The man said nothing. “Well it’s like actually my teddy bear, but my sister has it now. Or was mine. Mom said I was a man, and men don’t need toys. And she’s right.” The boy puffed out his chest again and adjusted the toothpick. “But my little little sister puked on it, because she’s a baby, and it needs to be clean for Christmas, so I got the responsibility because now I’m the man.”

Silence again.

“But how did you end up here?”

For the first time, the man truly heard the boy. He thought back to his seven - no eight? - days on the road, driving listlessly. Back to seedy motels, bus stops, and park benches. He thought back to the moment the door closed, and the engine on the bike started, not for the first time, but also for the first time alone. Back to the fights, and the screams, and the tears. He thought back to the hospital bedsides, the long sleepless nights without hope or understanding. Back to a time before, when things were good, when for four years there were all smiles. The man thought back to a time with her, and most importantly to a time with him.

Now the man grabbed his toothpick and shifted it to the other side.

“It’s a long story”

The boy perked up, “Well I love a good story!”

“It’s not a good story”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” For the first time the boy looked truly defeated.

Both the man and the boy stayed silent, gradually turning their heads back to gaze at the stars again.

“There’s so many stars”, whispered the boy.

“And they’re so far away”, replied the man.

The peace was shattered, as a buzz from a machine inside stirred both the man and the boy. The man glanced at his watch, as the boy stood up silently to wander back inside. Briefly blinded by yellow, the man was returned to solitude. The man, now overwhelmed with his own thoughts, struggled with which one to even think, eventually resting on the distant memories of those he no longer had. Just as the struggle of emotion started to pierce the good still laced throughout these memories, the entrance burst open, and the boy practically tumbled down the step. 

Gone was the false bravado once pasted onto the very being of the boy. The facade was melted. Instead tears streamed down the boy’s face. In one hand was gripped the empty shell of what once was a teddy bear, limp and dripping. In the other, a fistful of cotton filling, gradually being lost to the arid wind. Standing in front of the man, there was never a boy turned man, responsible as the head of the house. Instead, standing in front of the man was a child faced with the harsh reality, not of losing a toy, but of losing a comfort they barely understood they had.

The boy released a sob.

“He died”

The man paused. 

“It’s okay”

At this response, the boy crumpled, and simply wept.

The man stood up, and removed the bag from his shoulders. He unzipped it tenderly, and reached inside. He hesitated, looking back at the boy. Then for a second, he looked back up at the stars. Then from within, the man pulled out a teddy bear. Slightly worn, the smiling face and beady eyes stared back at the man. And the man stared back at the teddy bear. He turned back to the boy.

“Here.”

The boy looked up from his heap on the floor.

Both the boy and the man remained suspended, teddy bear in the outstretched arm of the man, the boy with a tear strewn face still clutching to the remains. Then the boy gradually stood back up. He looked at the teddy bear being offered to him. Then took one step past the bear, and hugged the man. The man wrapped his arms around the boy.

“Thank you”, The boy whispered into the man’s coat.

“You’re welcome”, The man responded.

The boy took a step back, and wiped his arm across his face. He then gingerly reached out, and took the teddy bear, clutching it close to his chest. 

“Thank you”, he repeated.

The man turned, zipped up his bag, and placed it back on his shoulders. He then reached into his inner jacket pocket, took out a pack of diamonds, flicked out two toothpicks, placed one in his mouth, and turned back. 

The boy was already partially across the lot, heading to a bicycle stashed on the side. The man stood silent and watched.

The boy walked over to his bike. Arriving, the boy tenderly placed the teddy bear into his bag. He then buckled the bag securely, and seated himself on the bicycle. The boy brushed a single snowflake from his upper lip, and exhaled slowly, looking at his breath frost in the cold air. He then kicked up the kickstand, and pedaled off into the void.

The man watched the boy slowly fade into the darkness. He then looked down at the extra toothpick in his hand. And for the first time in a long time, the man smiled.