The Stranger's Dilemma
first published in The Ranfurly Review
The City of New Orleans was boarding in ten minutes. Vanessa sat on a bench and opened a new paperback collection of short stories. She had read only a few pages when a man sat down next to her.
“Gotta match?” he asked.
Keeping her finger on the page, she absently answered, “Nope.”
The man came down the sidewalk with a sack from the market. He had sandwiches, beer, whiskey.
“My minister’s gonna give me $42,000 when I stop smoking.”
Vanessa knew she shouldn’t look at him, but she was curious. His greasy Jesus-length brown hair gave her a little shudder. He wore an ill fitting polyester blue blazer with brass buttons. A clip-on Windsor knotted necktie dangled from his soiled collar. He struggled unsuccessfully with a worn book of matches. After getting a flame, his crazed eyes conveyed delight as he lit his cigarette.
“Really?” she asked before returning to the book.
The man came down the sidewalk with a sack from the market. He had sandwiches, beer, whiskey. He saw the car in the driveway and the…
“Yep. The hardest part of quittin’ is this station. Can’t imagine not smoking in here. It’s what people do while they’re waitin’.” He exhaled a long stream of smoke.
She shrugged and lowered her head.
The man came down the sidewalk with a sack from the market. He had sandwiches, beer, whiskey. He saw the car in the driveway and the girl on the bed.
“D’ya ever smoke?” he asked, crossing his right khaki pants leg over the left.
Inspecting his dirty white tennis shoes, she admitted, “Yes. For eleven years.”
He declared, “$42,000. It’s a whole lotta money.”
“Good luck with that.” She lost her spot and had to return to the beginning of the paragraph.
The man came down the sidewalk with a sack from the market. He had sandwiches, beer, whiskey. He saw the car in the driveway and the girl on the bed. He saw the television…
“How’d ya quit?” He put his arm on the back of the bench in an effort to become more intimate and took a long drag.
She sighed. “I started jogging.”
“Hmmph,” his voice rattled with phlegm.
The man came down the sidewalk with a sack from the market. He had sandwiches, beer, whiskey.
“I’m too old to jog.”
Tapping the page, she offered, “Gum chewing helps, I’ve heard.”
He saw the car…
“Nasty habit, gum.” He took another drag. “Yep, disgusting.”
The man came down the sidewalk with a sack from the market. He had sandwiches, beer, whiskey. He saw the car in the driveway and the girl on the bed. He saw the television set going and the boy on the porch.
“$42, 000,” he spurted suddenly.
Vanessa gave up and closed the book.
He read the title slowly. “What We Talk About When We Talk About Love.” He shook his head quickly, nearly hitting her with a greasy strand. “Funny name for a book, huh?”
“Yeah, maybe,” she said, happy that he wasn’t illiterate. Worried that he might be joining her to Chicago, she asked, “So, where are you going?”
“Oh, nowheres. I just like the station.”
She arched an eyebrow.
He said, “This’s where ya meet the nicest people. Can’t imagine not coming in here.” Stepping on his cigarette, he added, “$42,000. That’s a whole lotta money.”
Endnote
Raymond Carver, What We Talk About When We Talk About Love (New York: Vintage Books, 1989) “Why Don’t You Dance?” 6.
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see the video here: The Stranger's Dilemma
© 2009 Kristin Fouquet