Inner Gangster

It started with the black and white wingtip Oxford shoes. Leather soles, suede lining, and a glossy black and white cheap leather body.

Every morning G. rose at 5:45 am. His wife would remain in bed until she could smell the black coffee and toasted bread G. routinely prepared each morning.

“I don’t like two buttered buns. I’ve told you many times, only one side. Too many calories if on both buns. Why do you want me to be fat? Argh! This coffee is too damn hot. I just burned my tongue. Is this how you want me to get up each morning? Look how I feel now. My day is ruined. Ruined.”

This wasn’t new to G. ever since they got married 8 years ago his coffee was never good enough, the breakfast never tasted right.

“I’ll just go back to bed and make myself something decent once you leave.” said his wife.

G. left for work at a quarter to 7.

He got on his train. Connected to another train.Walked 6 1/2 blocks along Astoria’s Broadway to get to work.

There they were on display at Nino’s clothing store.

He couldn’t understand why he stopped there every morning. Those shoes, those colors, they meant something to him. His breath quickened and he could feel his heart beat rising slowly. They weren’t particularly beautiful. He was sure his wife would hate them. U$ 110.00 dollars, he couldn’t justify spending that amount on anything other than groceries. Besides, he already had shoes. He had gotten a brand new pair or black New Balances for Christmas. He bought them for himself justifying he needed new shoes to go to work.

It wasn’t about the shoes, it was the feeling. Why would his heart race every morning when he stopped in front of those shoes?

G. went on to work. He was head janitor of a supply store on 31st street. He liked his job. He had decent hours and had been working there for the past 9 years. It was a quiet job. He knew what needed to be done. His daily routine required little to none human interaction. He had his lunch at noon, a sandwich he packed every morning, white cheese, bread (both buns heavily buttered), ham, turkey, a swirl of honey and an apple. This time a day warmed G.’s heart. He looked forward to that time every day.

He left at 7 PM every day and he made his was to the subway then to another train, and another, up the 4 flights of stairs into the kitchen, placed his messenger bag down, and sat quietly until his presence had been noticed.

” The bathroom is disgusting. All these hairs everywhere. And don’t try to tell me they’re mine. I know what my hairs look like. They’re too thin, they’re yours. How can you expect me to use the bathroom when it’s that disgusting? Why should I have to clean up after you? Am I your maid? I don’t think so. Don’t get too comfortable. I need that bathroom cleaned tonight.”

G. quietly picked up his broom, a mop, and cleaning materials and cleaned the bathroom for the next 40 minutes.

“Make sure you get all that soap scum out of the tub. I was thinking about taking a bath tonight and I can’t go in there if there’s all that shit hanging off the walls.”

He scrubbed.

He went about his nightly routine: the dishes, vacuuming the floors, then he prepared dinner.

” Oh my god. Do you know how much money I spend on meds to keep my blood pressure from killing me? You obviously don’t since you decided to add to much salt to this steak. Why do you hate me so much? I can’t eat this. And if I can’t eat, neither can you.”

She picked up both their plates and placed them in the trash.

“Why should I be the only one who goes to bed hungry?”

He slept on the couch that night. He didn’t mind. It was peaceful to lie there in the dark without her.

The next morning G. missed his alarm. He never missed the alarm. He was 30 minute s late. His wife was still asleep. He could hear her snoring in the room. He was going to be late. Should he prepare her breakfast? Should he shower? He hadn’t shaved the day before so he could shave this morning. The snoring stopped. He would never hear the end of it. He placed the filter with an unsual amount of coffee in the coffee maker. He ran into the bathroom, quickly showered and cut himself shaving. He hated getting cutting himself while shaving. This was going to be a horrible day. He could tell.

He ran out the shower. She was up. She had a cup of coffee in her hand. She sat there with her morning glare. She threw the cup on the floor.

” This is the worst fucking cup of coffee I’ve ever had in my life. What is wrong with you? Clean this up!”

He stopped. “Why would she break that? There was coffee all over the floor. He didn’t have time to clean it up. He was already late. The coffee would certainly dry and would be very difficult to remove from the floor later.

She slammed the door to the bedroom and screamed things he couldn’t quite make out.

He left without his sandwich and his apple.

Made his way to the train. There were service changes. He needed to take a shuttle to the next train. There were no seats on that goddamn bus. An older lady stood beside him a 15 year-old boy sat in front of her.

“Why didn’t these kids stand up for older people to sit?” He never understood that. If he were a young man and his mother knew he didn’t give his seat up for others he’d get smacked on the side of the head.

His mind was flooded with thoughts. Adrenaline pumped through his veins.

He got off the second train, he was 25 minutes late. He’s never been late before. He made his way down Broadway, past Nino’s. Wait.

“Where are the shoes?” He thought.

They were there yesterday. What happened to them? Why were those funeral shoes there? He couldn’t do anything then. Nino’s wouldn’t open for another 2 hours.

He rushed to work. Luckily no one noticed he was late. In fact no one noticed him at all. He could have not shown up to work and no one would ever know or care. It was noon. He had a knot in his throat. He felt deeply guilty to go out to lunch since he had already been late that morning. But the shoes! It wasn’t like anyone knew he was late.

Had the shoes been sold? Maybe it was only moved back into the store. He had no lunch. He couldn’t contain himself anymore. He couldn’t remember being this riled up, this angry, this ALIVE in a long time.

He left the store. He walked all four blocks to Nino’s. He went in. The sales clerk had this smirk on his face. As if he could have predicted this. He knew G. would give in sooner or later and come in to buy those shoes.

” They were sold last night.”

G. Froze. A sudden sadness took over him. What could he do now? He tried to not cry.

Suddenly his lips took over and sounded:

” What size were they?”

” 11 1/2″

He sighed. At least they were two sizes bigger than his feet.

” I have another pair in the back. What’s your size?”

G. waited as the clerk went into the back. This euphoric state took over him. But they were only shoes. Why was he making such a big deal about shoes? It wasn’t like him to feel so strongly about anything.

” Here you go.”

He placed the box on the ground in front of him. He could hardly move. He could feel his heart jumping in his mouth.

” You can sit down.”

They looked at each other.

” You can also try them on. Get a feel.”

G. sat down. All he could see was that brown cardboard box in front of him. He opened the box as if unveiling the first gift he remembers ever getting. It was his 6th birthday. His mother had given him a baseball cap he wanted so much. There they were. They were perfect. Shiny, he could smell them. He hastily untied his New Balances and adjusted the laces on the new pair. It was a religious experience when his toes felt the comfort of the suede lining of the shoe. He was happy. He felt alive. Those shoes, they meant something to him. He couldn’t quite figure it out. It was a mixed feeling of deep hatred and ecstasy. He was going to buy them. Even if it cost him double the price.

He wore them to work and carried the New Balances in the box under his arm. He couldn’t remember being this confident in a while. He strolled down Broadway like he’d never done before. He noticed the girls walking along the street, the cars, the older women. He felt like the weight of the world had been taken off his shoulders.

He worked vibrantly. He spoke to customers, greeted his co-workers, he whistled as he cleaned the male bathroom stalls. He couldn’t remember whistling in a long time. His father would whistle the same tune as he worked on the land.

It was 7 o’clock. He needed to go home. How would he explain the shoes? Would she even listen? Maybe if he tried to talk to her she could understand or at least not yell at him so much. He would make her a special breakfast the next day, with eggs and bacon and all.

He stood outside his building. He could see that the apt. light was on. He walked up the stairs staring down at his feet. My god, he loved those shoes. They were the best thing that had happened to him in a while. His door, key, unlock, opened the door. A certain fury took over him.

She stood there ready to bark more orders at him. He made his way through the living room towards her. Her pupils dilated with surprise as she understood he wasn’t stopping. Before she could say anything he slapped her across the face. She fell to her knees and didn’t recover from the shock until a little while later. He made his way into the bedroom, slammed the door and locked it. He carefully took off his shoes and admired them as they sat before him. He changed into his pajamas turned the light off. He smiled.

G. slept until noon the next day.

~ by joueurdevie on May 8, 2009.