Mascara Tears [ON HOLD]

5. A Hobo Named Ham

Ace

-*-

Ace entered the alley warily. The place was all sorts of unpleasant. Street vagrants piled next to another, sleeping and yet very aware of his presence. The smell of their drug imbued flesh filled his nostrils and almost made him gag. Although he had not bathed since… he could not remember when, these people still managed to make him feel clean and pristine.

He moved through the river of bodies, careful not to step on anyone lest he gives them an excuse to start a fight. Not that any of these intoxicated men posed a threat to him, Ace just preferred to avoid any waving around of sharp objects altogether.

Towards the end of the alleyway Ace found the body of the person he was looking for. It was a teenage boy of about his own age. He lay there on the bare ground seemingly asleep. As soon as Ace stopped beside him, the boy shivered visibly. It was a voluntary shiver, one used to convince street sweepers that he was he still lived and should not be discarded.

‘Five Rands boss yam.’ Ace whispered to the boy.

The sleeping boy was suddenly awake and fully alert. Upon seeing Ace he relaxed and smiled a warm yet pained smile.

‘Malo’s code?’ The boy asked, fetching an envelope that was concealed under what seemed like a concrete slab.

The other street vagrants started mumbling and moving about, clearly annoyed at the early morning disturbance. Ace understood their pain, it was easier to remain asleep if one had to live on an empty stomach. None of the men sent any of those complaints after him. Their keen ears had surely picked up on Malo’s mention and would rather not hear the rest of the conversation. Ace even noticed a woman intentionally move away from them from his right.

‘Yeah.’ He said to the boy.

‘Last I heard you’d quit.’

‘Got caught.’ Ace responded, accepting the package.

‘The girl?’

‘How do you know?’

‘I’m Ham remember? It’s my job to know things.’

Ace stared daggers at him.

‘No, don’t get me wrong. I’m not the one who told Malo. She found out all on her own.’ Ham sighed. ‘She knows you better than you know yourself mate.’

‘Sorry.’ Ace looked thoughtfully at the envelope. ‘Why Ham?’

Last he’d met the boy, his name had been Swift.

‘There was an incident… I wasn’t swift enough…’ Ham responded.

‘So Ham?’ Ace asked quizzically.

‘During the incident… ham was involved.’

Ace shook his head, amused.

‘I’ll need to hear more next time.’ He handed Ham a few notes of money. ‘Sounds like one hell of a story.’

‘Next time then.’ Ham said dismissively though Ace heard the hope concealed in the boy’s voice. Life out on the streets was unpredictable. Death here was the only constant and ‘next times’ often didn’t come to pass, the phrase only holding any truthful meaning when used as farewell instead.

Ace tucked the envelope into his jacket and made his way out. The hobos now awake, making way for him to pass.

**

The sun had long since gone out and the streetlights were on. Ace was now making his way down Protea Street. He was all too familiar with the route. He walked until he came upon a street lamp that at this point was now more than used to his frequent visits. Pulling up the hood of his jacket to conceal his face from the lamp’s alluring light, he stood beneath it and looked toward a house that too, would be used to his stares. He moved his eyes until they came to the last window on his left. Silhouetted there was the figure of a girl at her desk. Ace smiled to himself. He had only seen her twice, both times only taking a careful glance. The rest of the times he had come to this very lamp and had watched her silhouetted for move about her room. There were times too when he’d notice her staring back at him, she had waved at him and he had waved right back, a mistake on his part. He had not been allowed to interact with her then, as had been part of the contract.

Now though, he had come of his own volition. He didn’t know why he still did it. He’d thought that maybe it was the routine of it all that he’d gotten himself trapped in. But now he knew that that had not been the case. He enjoyed standing there, watching and absorbing the peace that the girl must feel, the mystery that she was. He wanted to talk to her. To find out about her life and what thoughts went through her mind when sitting there at her desk.

He also knew though, that such a thing would not happen. People like her and people like him did not speak, not voluntarily. His standing here watching her would also not help his case. That’s why he was more than surprised when the silhouetted figure stood up walked toward the window and drew the curtain. He could see her clearly now. Her blonde hair tousling in the wind as she opened the window and allowed it in, her translucent white gown glowing faintly from the light. She looked straight at him. Though he was sure that she should not be able to see his hooded face, he felt as though she was gazing right through the darkness and straight into his soul, her blue eyes radiant and determined.

What does she want to say? He wondered. How do I respond?

His breath caught in his throat and a lump formed there. All grew silent save the beating of his heart. And as the wind continued on its ghostly path between them, he waited…

-*-