Jack Spencer walked to work. He walked down sidewalks littered with trash. He walked through tall weeds that grew from between cracks in the pavement. He passed the hookers and the drug dealers and the gang bangers. If any of them happened to look his way he might nod and they might nod and he'd just keep walking. He recognized some of them and they probably recognized him. He had been living on this street for almost a decade now. He didn't mess with them and it seemed they didn't want to mess with him, either.
He worked on a road crew. That meant he mostly worked at night. When the good things in the world slept and the bad things were waking up. That seemed appropriate to him. Every night he would walk in the dark to catch a ride to work with half a dozen unfortunate souls like himself. After the sun rose he would be dropped off and walk through mostly deserted streets to his apartment building. He usually kept a five in his pocket for Moe, who sometimes told him war stories and sometimes just thanked him and once even hugged him. He knew Moe would use it to buy booze but Jack couldn't help himself. Everyone deserves to be a little happy sometimes without getting lectured.
Jack walked up to a red brick apartment building and through a door that creaked on its rusty hinges. He walked up a single flight of stairs to the upper floor. There was just as much trash inside the building as there was out in the street. The walls and floor had dark stains in some places and light patches where they had been recently repaired. He passed a couple of guys talking quietly in the stairwell. They went silent as he passed and he ignored them. He passed an open apartment where a couple of tweakers were watching cartoons. He walked by quietly and they ignored him. Finally, he reached his apartment at the end of the hallway. He unlocked the door and stepped inside.
The apartment was sparse. A small kitchen with few appliances led to a living room dominated by a single couch on one wall and a small TV on a stand against the other. A door on the near side of the TV led to the bathroom and one on the far side led to the bedroom. Jack looked around the apartment and thought about the wide world the stretched out far beyond. This was just one tiny, cramped corner of it. A secluded place far from life and liberty and happiness. It was his cell. He admitted it to himself when he found the place and signed the lease and he had never looked back.
Jack set the cooler he had been carrying on the kitchen counter and leaned down to unlace and remove his size 13 boots. He took off his jacket and hung it on a hook behind the door. Then he took apart the cooler. A thermos of coffee. Plastic containers that, this morning, held a sandwich and a few snacks. The same sandwich he had eaten every day for as long as he cared to remember. He washed it all and put it in the drain. Then he went to the bathroom for a shower.
Routine. That was what he did. Everything he did. A routine. He woke early. He made coffee and a sandwich. He went to work. He came home. He watched TV. He went to bed. Breakfast was eggs and cheese and ham. Dinner was steak. He didn't have many bills. On the weekends he would make an omelet. Or grilled cheese. Very rarely he would buy ground beef and make burgers in the same cast iron he used for steaks. He had his groceries delivered. He let his hair grow long because he could cut it himself with a pair of scissors. He kept it in a ponytail cause he thought it looked better than shaving it bald. That way he didn't have to go to a barber. He only left his apartment to go to work and he went straight home afterwards. The only people he interacted with were the guys on his work crew. He kept to himself and repaved roads. That was his penance. His atonement for being who he was.
After his shower, he went to bed to sleep through the day. It was the weekend. Tonight, he would make grilled cheese.
*** *** ***
Jack woke from a deep sleep. Someone was knocking on his door. He got up out of bed and put on an a-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He was in a bad mood by the time he was dressed and walking through the small apartment to get the door. He didn't like visitors. Whoever it was, whatever they were selling or begging for, was about to wish they had never been born.
"Hey, Mr. Spencer!" the girl shouted as soon as the door was open. She leapt through the door and wrapped her arms around his waist. She was so short her face only came up to his chest when she hugged him. He had a chance to see she was wearing a pair of Converse high tops, a knee-length plaid skirt, and a white and pink hoodie with a pair of ears on it. She was too cute. This was bad.
"Jennifer?" Jack asked. He barely recognized the girl - well, the woman now, he supposed. Jennifer Campbell. She used to live next door to him, back when he lived in a house in the suburbs. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Seeing her now brought back a lot of memories. A lot of pain and shame.
He needed to push her away. He knew that. He needed to stop it, but he didn't. He gently held her tiny body against his own. He hadn't felt anyone's touch in so many years, his body started to respond.
***
I knew it! Jennifer thought.
Jack must have noticed as soon as she did because he quickly grabbed her arms pulled them away. He took a step back and looked at her.
***
He had expected it to be a quick embrace but she had latched onto him and he had to pull her arms off of him. He hoped he had done it quickly enough and he wished he was wearing something other than sweatpants. He took a few steps back and she followed him, right into his kitchen. He knew she must have been in her 20's by now, but she was so short and the clothes she was wearing were so cute, she looked like a teenager.
"Yeah! Wow! I haven't seen you in forever!" she said, hardly missing a beat.
"Yeah, uh, what are you doing here?" he asked. He didn't have anything against the girl, but she was one of his daughter's friends and he didn't think he'd said more than ten words to her his whole life. It just seemed strange that she would show up at his door after so long.
"Oh, I moved in across the hall! Well, I did a month or so ago, but I didn't know you lived here until last week. I've been hoping to meet you but it seems like you're never around."
"I'm mostly up at night. So... I sleep during the day. But, I don't really have time to do anything." What? "I mean, I wouldn't do anything." What am I saying? "I work at night. That's all. Just... night shift." He sounded like an idiot.
Not that it mattered, he thought to himself. Why should he care what she thought about him? He wasn't some high schooler trying to impress his crush. He wasn't trying to make friends. Besides, she was just a kid - probably half his age. It would be inappropriate. Only, it wouldn't be, he told himself. She was an adult and he was an adult and there were people older and younger than them getting together. But none of that mattered, either, since they weren't going to get together and he wasn't trying to get together with her. He didn't want anyone in his life, he told himself. They were just neighbors having a chat and it wasn't inappropriate to talk to an older neighbor so there was nothing wrong and it didn't matter if he sounded like an idiot.
Shit. He needed to get rid of her. She might have been his daughter's friend, once, but there was no reason for her to be here and no reason for him to think about making a good impression. He was not thinking about her. He would not think about her. He would be polite and then he would send her on her way and go back to his life. She wasn't his type, anyway.
"That's cool," she said with a smile. She bent down and pulled her socks, which had gotten kind of bundled around the top of her shoes, up to her calves where they belonged. Her hoodie had fallen down and she pulled it back up so that the white and pink ears on top of it stuck out properly.
Ugh, why did she have to do that? Jack thought. He needed to get rid of her.
"Anyway, I was just trying to catch you when you were home. You know, say hi, catch up and stuff."
"Yeah," Jack said, although he wasn't sure what they had to catch up on, "Come on in," he said.
Of course, she was already inside. She just kind of glanced around the kitchen for a moment and he stepped around her to shut the door to his little apartment.
"Make yourself at home," he said as he turned back around and gestured to the couch, "Can I get you a drink? I've got root beer or water."
"Sure, I'll take a soda," she said wandering into the small den.
Jack grabbed two of them. Fuck. What am I doing? he wondered. He walked into the den and handed one to Jennifer.
"Have you talked to Claire, recently?" he asked. Jack hadn't seen his daughter in years.
"Yeah," Jennifer said, fumbling with the top of the soda.
"How is she?"
"Uh, you know..." she mumbled, still trying to get the soda open. Finally, she gave up and held it out to him. "Mr. Spencer, can you open this for me?"
Jack clenched his jaw. Fuck. Why did she have to call him that? Why was she acting this way? He tried to put it out of his mind. He smiled, took the can, and opened it. He handed it back and she gulped some and then let out a tiny burp. She held her hand over her mouth and giggled a little before quietly apologizing. God, she was too cute. Jack couldn't help but chuckle.
