Not that the details matter but this story actually mingles in with S&A and HOF. In Feburary of 2008 Mr. Fierro sets out from Conneticut on his travels. In 2008 of S&A Tomas is on his way to the tattooing convention. So maybe this could have happened.
I knew the type.
The way he sat there in his fur lined coat and tight pitch black suit like he owned the fucking word. Like he wasn’t cold. Like he wasn’t freezing his ass off like the rest of us in the tiny outside smoking section.
He blew smoke into the snow and then kept looking up. As if the skies would instantly clear and the passengers of flight 674 wouldn't be forced to take a train all the way to fucking BWI instead of a connector flight.
What really got me
Was his son.
The kid (maybe 6 or 7) sat on his lap, engrossed in a Ninentedo DS as his dad puffed out another trail of smoke and rubbed his beard.
The kid coughed. hard.
“Are you kidding me ?”, I said to him
He looked dismissively at me and I hoped he burned his beard on his cigarette.
“Are you deaf ? He’s a kid. Secondhand smoke is how I started going through a fucking pack a day at 15”
I guess cursing was more dangerous than nicotine cause he picked up his kid and quickly went inside the train station.
“Hmm.”
I followed the voice to the smoker standing next to me. He was looking at the tracks ahead, the only part of him that moved was his hands as removed his black leather gloves, His coat sleeve coming up to reveal a large tricked out Rolex.
Fuck, too bad stealing had never been my forte.
“Got a goddam fucking problem.”, I said realizing that now I’m just pissed off because his watch cost more than my godddamn rent.
His skin was paler than most of my paint primer, his eyes were a color I wasn’t familiar with. He pulled out a worn matchbook and lit his cigarette, still not look at me.
“Eloquent.”, he said. surprisingly his voice sounded young and when he turned for a second it was obvious that he wasn’t much older than me
I rolled my eyes and flipped open my phone. Sofia hadn’t called. Guess she didn’t realize my flight had been cancelled. I could relax knowing she was staying with Severine.
“It is petty.”, the man mused, “the way they force us out here in the cold.”
Small talk. This was why I had to quit smoking.
“Next thing you know you won’t even be able to smoke in bars.” I offered.
I expected a fake laugh which I usually got at that joke, but nothing.
I noticed he had an old Time magazine tucked under his arm with the Twin Towers on it.
My phone went off then. For some reason it was already in my hand
“Sofia”, I said
“Tomas, are you okay. They said it’s blizzard. Maybe you should come back”
“It’s already paid for, we can’t afford to waste the money”, I say for the rich guys benefit, “The plane made an emergency landing in Philly. We have to take the train to BWI. It’s fine.”
“Okay”, she said. Maybe she did want to get rid of me, “Be safe”
“As Tave Myliu”
I hung up realizing my thin winter coat just wasn’t cutting it.
“Wife ?”, said the rich guy, though he seemed like he could care a less.
“Yeah, you married ?”
“Was”, he said
“What happened ?”
“I moved on”, he said
I could read between the lines though, no one moved on. They cheated.
“Was she worth it ?”
He started to respond then turned to me.
“I don’t know. ”, he said
“Okay.”
I had nothing else to say. I loved Sofia, despite everything and while I found other women attractive I couldn’t imagine loving another woman. Of course up until the day I met Sofia I didn’t think love like that was possible.
“Well”, I said even though it was none of my business, “Maybe you haven’t met the one yet”
His hand was still as if he was really considering what a guy in a salvation army coat was saying. He bought the cigarette down and blew out even smoke rings.
“I don’t believe in true love”, he said finally and stamped out the cigarette, “You shouldn’t either.”
Just as he walks past me to go back inside I grab the arm of his expensive coat.
“Fuck you, man”
“Eloquent”, he says again and walks away.
+++
I know I couldn’t write the sexytimes in as easily with these two. I felt they would be so different. Tomas is all bright eyed, in love, happy and optimistic and Mr. Fierro is. . . you now . .. . not. So moral of the story money can’t buy happiness ?
Sure I’d love to follow this up with Tom and Mr. F getting high and talking philosophy in a sleeper car. . . but that’s just not in my wheelhouse. Slate and Tomas on the other hand . . .