One Man Guy

by Michael Barakiva

  “What’s that black shit?”

  “The specks? They’re spices. They give it a little kick.”

  “Lemme see.” Ethan shone a miniature LED bulb attached to one of the chains looped around his low-hanging cargo shorts and used it to examine the cheese.

  “You come prepared, don’t you?” Alek observed.

  “Jewelers use these lights to inspect diamonds. They’re perfect for when you’re clubbing, and it’s dark and the music’s blasting, but you need to see. You know?”

  Alek nodded his head knowingly, although he’d never actually been clubbing.

  “And more importantly,” Ethan continued, “they’re perfect for investigating unidentified speckled cheese. Can I try it?” he asked solemnly.

  “Go for it,” Alek answered with an equal amount of solemnity.

  After a few attempts, Ethan got the hang of unraveling the cheese. “This tastes pretty awesome, man. Definitely better than the shitty slices of American my dad picks up at the supermarket.”

  Alek felt a wave of gratitude wash over him, for everyone from his father, who packed today’s lunch, to the Armenian who first invented string cheese.

  “Anyway, dude, I just wanted to thank you for doing me that solid.”

  “That what?”

  “You know, a solid. It means…” Ethan searched for the definition. “Basically, it means you did me a favor, and I wanted to give you props for that. Like if I said, ‘I wanna give my boy Alek a shout-out for doing me a solid in Mr. W’s Alge class.’ It means ‘thank you.’ Capisce?”

  “Cap what?”

  “Capisce. It’s how mobsters say ‘understand?’” Ethan looked at Alek with surprise. “Don’t you watch TV?”

  “My parents only let me watch half an hour a day.”

  “What!”

  “Yeah. They think television is rotting the minds of the people in this country.”

  “So what do you do?”

  “Well, I used to play tennis. And I go to the movies.”

  “Your parents don’t think that movies are rotting the minds of the people in this country?”

  “They probably do, but at least this way they get me out of the house.”

  Ethan laughed. Alek couldn’t believe how quickly Ethan morphed from being an unapproachable D.O. to someone he could talk to.

  “Anyway, dude, thanks. If I don’t pass Alge they’ll make me repeat, and that wouldn’t fly well with Father, ya hear?”

  “I hear,” Alek responded, playing along.

  “And thanks for the cheese, Polly-O.”

  “It’s not Polly-O. My parents would never buy Polly-O.”

  “No, fool. That’s gonna be my name for you from now on. ’Cause like string cheese, you’re wound up tight.”

  Alek’s heart sank at the description.

  “But you also got flecks that give you flavor.” Ethan winked.

  And his heart soared again.

  “Peace out, Polly-O.”

  Ethan made his way back to his cafeteria table. Alek could see the elastic band of Ethan’s underwear peeking out of his shorts, almost as if the purple 2(X)IST label were winking at Alek and anyone else bold enough to witness it. Looking down at his own boring denim shorts, Alek could never imagine wearing pants that low, especially since Principal Saunder’s dress code prohibited them. During the school year, it might even earn Ethan a suspension, but in the summer, everything was looser.

  * * *

  Walking to school five days later, Alek braced himself as he passed Becky’s street. It’s not like he thought she was going to be waiting for him or anything, but seeing Orchard Street reminded him of how he and Becky still hadn’t talked, and he knew that the more time that passed, the harder it would be. He supposed he could’ve reached out to her, but since she’d been the one who kicked him out of her house, he thought it wouldn’t kill her to make the first move.

  Alek reached the train station and decided to risk being a few minutes late to English so he could witness the 8:17 on its way up to the city. He ran up the stairs to the platform.

  “Check it, Polly-O!” he heard a familiar voice call out from the other side.

  Ethan! Looking across, he saw him hanging off the railing on the opposite side of the station, his book bag casually slung over his shoulders.

  “Hey, Ethan!” Alek called back. Seeing him made Alek smile.

  Ethan looked around conspiratorially, and then beckoned to Alek to come to him. Alek ran up the overpass and found Ethan examining a New York City subway map.

  “Have fun in Alge today. And don’t mention the running-into-me thing, okay?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Figure it out, Polly-O. I’m at a train station. When school starts in fifteen minutes, you’re going to be sitting in some lame-ass classroom, and I’ll be on my way to the Big Apple.”

  “You’re cutting?” Alek asked incredulously.

  “Hell yeah.”

  “So why are you going into the city?” Alek said, trying to sound nonchalant. He might not be able to go there on his own, but he knew it would be way uncool to refer to it as “New York City.” Everyone just called it “the city,” as if to imply that the rest of the so-called cities, like Chicago or Los Angeles or Boston, didn’t really count.

  “There’s this concert series in the park. Rufus Wainwright was supposed to play last Monday, but he got sick and had to bail. He felt so bad for his loyal fans like me, though, that he decided to do an impromptu thing today instead.”

  Alek wouldn’t admit he didn’t know who Rufus Wainwright was, so he just said, “Cool.” He searched his memory quickly and came up with the first thing about New York that popped into his head. “You know, I hear there’s a great Rodin exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum.”

  Ethan looked impressed. “Really?”

  Encouraged, Alek went on. “Sure. I’m dying to check it out.”

  A mischievous glint entered Ethan’s eyes. “Why don’t you come with me?”

  “What?”

  “Come with me. The Met’s right off Central Park. We can hit the concert, check out the exhibit, and be back before the bell rings.”

  “No way.” Alek didn’t even have to think about it. As alluring as the idea of spending that Tuesday with Ethan in New York was, he would never cut school.

  “Why not?”

  “For one thing, I don’t have enough money.”

  “Bullshit. You got ten bucks?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s all you’ll need.”

  “But what about the ticket for the concert, or the train ride, or—”

  “Shut up. I said you could do it on ten bucks, so you can do it on ten bucks. Or don’t you trust me?”

  “I trust you.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  Alek’s mind raced, but the sound of the train approaching in the distance was making thinking difficult.

  “Polly-O, don’t be such a pussy.” Ethan raised his voice over the sound of the approaching train. “Have some fun.”

  For a second, Alek actually found himself thinking about what it would be like to forget about school and his teachers and parents, even for just a day, and go on this adventure. But he just wasn’t that kind of guy.

  The train pulled into the station. Ethan waited for everyone else to board, then got on. “Any chance I can persuade you?” he asked Alek from across the portal.

  “Sorry, man.”

  “No prob, dude. Maybe next time.” Ethan held out his hand to snap Alek’s fingers goodbye. But when their hands met, Ethan interlocked his fingers around Alek’s wrist. Ethan pulled back with all of his strength, yanking Alek onto the train. Alek, stunned, didn’t even try to break Ethan’s hold as he heard the doors beep-beep close behind him. Alek turned around and saw South Windsor move away as the train started speeding to New York.

  7

  “This is kidnapping! I can’t believe it!” Alek exclaimed.

  “It’s
for your own good.”

  “But I don’t even have a ticket. And how’m I going to get back in time for school?”

  “You really want to go back?” Ethan asked, leaning in, his eyes daring Alek.

  “There’s no ‘want’ here, Ethan. I have to get back,” Alek insisted.

  “Alek, my man, at a certain point in your life, you’re gonna learn there’s a difference between what you have to do and what you want to do. And the sooner you start choosing want over have, the happier you’ll be.” Ethan stretched, his arms unfolding above him like wings. “So if you really want, you can get off in five minutes at Princeton Junction, switch directions on the next outbound train, and be back at school five minutes late, max. But is that what you want?”

  Alek gathered his thoughts as the train gained momentum, the landscape on either side accelerating to a blur. He took his Velcro wallet out of his pocket and displayed its inhabitants, a pair of wrinkled five-dollar bills. “You sure I can do this on ten dollars?”

  His audacity earned him Ethan’s most winning smile. “You will find that I am a man of my word. Keep up.”

  Wading through the commuters in their business casual attire, Alek followed Ethan to the bathroom on the other side of the car. Ethan leaned forward and whispered in Alek’s ear. “Go in there, close the door behind you, and lock it. When you hear me knock four times, unlock it quickly and step back.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t ask questions now, just do what I tell you.”

  “But—”

  “Shut up! Do you see him?” Ethan pointed to the train ticket collector, who was slowly making his way over to them, punching tickets as he went.

  “Yeah.”

  “Lesson the first: if you want to spend a whole day in New York City on ten dollars, you don’t pay for the train ticket.”

  “But isn’t that stealing?”

  “Lesson the second: if no one suffers, it’s not bad.”

  Alek protested. “My parents are always saying there’s no such thing as a victimless crime.”

  Ethan rolled his eyes. “If you spend your only coin getting to the city, you won’t have any left to do anything fun once you actually get there. So just do what I tell you to, okay?”

  Alek nodded his consent, and Ethan dropped down and took some Scotch tape, a thick black marker, and a piece of white construction paper out of his bag. With the marker, he quickly scrawled OUT OF ORDER on the paper.

  “What are you waiting for? Go!” Ethan opened the bathroom door, shoved Alek in, and slammed it shut behind him.

  Alek flicked the metal latch, locking himself into the bathroom. The compartment was small, but fortunately not dirty or smelly. He positioned himself awkwardly, crouching in the corner, the metal wall cold through his shirt. He waited, not knowing what to do.

  A few moments stretched into an uncomfortable anxiety, and Alek started getting genuinely scared. What if Ethan was setting him up—pulling him on the train, then abandoning him in the bathroom? What if Ethan got off at the next stop, stranding Alek on the train by himself? Would Alek spend the rest of the trip locked in the bathroom? And how would he get back home after, let alone explain to his parents why he cut school and ended up on a train to New York?

  Alek put his hand on the door and was about to let himself out when he heard the four distinct raps. He unlocked the door and stepped back quickly, barely avoiding the swinging door. Ethan snuck in and dropped the latch, locking the door behind him. He hopped on the little steel sink, letting his feet dangle.

  “So what, we spend the entire ride in here?” Alek asked.

  “You got it. That Out of Order sign means we won’t be bothered since nobody knows what the hell is going on in these trains. Consider this our private suite for the next forty-five minutes.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Alek could’ve never conceived of a scheme like this, let alone have the audacity to execute it.

  “You don’t have to sound so impressed—it’s not like I came up with it myself. But it works like a charm. You just have to make sure that no one sees you put the sign up. The rest is cake. Of course, sometimes this place smells like shit, literally, and then you’re in for one hell of a ride. But it’s still free.”

  “Whoever showed you this must be a genius.”

  “Yeah, he was.” Ethan’s mouth tightened. He sat quietly and looked straight ahead, away from Alek.

  * * *

  Forty-five minutes later, the train pulled into Penn Station, and Alek and Ethan ducked out of the bathroom, camouflaging themselves among the throngs of passengers making their way out of the train. A fluorescent glare greeted them when they emerged from the underground stairwell.

  “Welcome to Pennsylvania Station,” Ethan said wryly. “Or, as I like to call it, Pee-Stain, because that’s what it looks and smells like.”

  Alek laughed. It wasn’t an inaccurate description.

  “You should check out some pictures of what this place was originally, before they ripped it down in the sixties and put up this nasty piece of concrete shit,” Ethan lamented. “I wish that instead of coming into Pee-Stain, NJ Trans went into G-C instead.”

  “G-C?”

  “Grand Central. It’s the train station on the east side of town. That’s how cool New York is—it gets two train stations. G-C is exactly what you expect a New York train station to look like—columns, gilding, the whole beautiful turn-of-the-century thing. And, on the ceiling, they’ve re-created the night sky, star for star, constellation for constellation. We can check it out the next time we come into the city.”

  Let’s just survive this trip first, Alek thought, before we commit to another. But he didn’t want Ethan to realize how scared he was, so instead he said, “You come into the city a lot?” He worked hard to pitch his voice to sound casual.

  “Used to all the time.” Ethan increased the speed at which he was walking, weaving his way through the crowd like he was on his skateboard. Alek had to practically run to keep up. “I took a break for a while, but now I’m thinking of resuming the habit.”

  A few minutes later, Alek followed Ethan down some stairs and ramps to the subway entrance. Ethan walked up to the MetroCard machine, which Alek thought was only a joystick away from looking exactly like an old-school arcade video game, its patches of primary colors accentuated by the sleek metal exterior.

  “Wouldn’t it be easier to just stand in line at the booth?” Alek asked.

  “That’s so tourist,” Ethan responded. “Now give me one of your fivers.”

  Alek slipped one of his two precious bills to Ethan, who matched it with a five-dollar bill of his own and fed both into the machine. Then he expertly navigated his way through the touch screen until a yellow card popped out.

  “Don’t I get one?” Alek asked.

  Ethan looked him up and down. “Where does all of your paranoia come from, man?”

  Alek looked away, embarrassed. “I just thought—”

  “Trust me, okay? I brought you in here, and I’m gonna take care of you. Capisce?”

  “Capisce,” Alek responded.

  “Now I’m gonna swipe, and you walk through. Got it?” Alek nodded. “Wait for my go.”

  When a crowd of commuters walked by, Ethan nodded to Alek, lining up at the turnstile. Alek waited for Ethan’s swipe, then began walking through the portal. Before the bar rotated forward, he felt Ethan sneak in behind, the front of his body pressing against the back of Alek’s.

  “Don’t stop,” Ethan hissed, and the two of them emerged on the other side of the threshold, the bar rotating behind them. “That’s my two-for-one subway special. One of the many money-saving tips you’ll learn from me today, young grasshopper.”

  Alek nodded appreciatively, still feeling the sensation of Ethan’s body against his.

  “I’ve never taken the subway before,” Alek admitted while they were waiting on the platform. “My folks sometimes drive us in, but then we park in a lot, and if we need to get aroun
d we cab it.”

  “Lesson the third: never take a cab.”

  “Why not?”

  “Hella pricey, first of all. But more importantly, real New Yorkers take the subway. Or Citibike. Look at the people standing here waiting with us.”

  Alek looked up and down the waiting platform, absorbing the colorful scene. An old Chinese man was playing an instrument that looked like a cello’s skeleton with just one big string and sounded like a sad ghost trying to communicate with the living. Three African-American girls around Alek’s age were animatedly discussing the boys in their school.

  “Girl, if you even think about touchin’ Ramen, I’m gonna yank that cheap weave out.”

  “I know Ramen’s yours. And besides, I wouldn’t touch him with any of these fingers.” The second girl flashed her purple, manicured nails for emphasis. “He’s a dog.”

  The first girl’s protests didn’t disturb a young Arab man sitting on a bench reading a textbook on the history of board games. Lots of men and women in clothes similar to what Alek’s mother wore to work, like the people on the train from South Windsor, were waiting in between old couples and young couples and middle-aged couples with babies. Alek felt the self-consciousness that always hung over him evaporate. Who would possibly pay attention to him when there was so much else to take in?

  “You see shit here you’d never see anywhere else,” Ethan said proudly, as if he’d arranged for the display.

  The sound of the approaching subway thundered throughout the station. Alek and Ethan boarded. The carriage was so crowded that they had to stand right next to each other. When the train stalled abruptly, Alek lost his balance and almost fell on top of Ethan.

  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Alek started blubbering.

  “You don’t have to apologize. I don’t mind,” Ethan said. Alek felt his face go red and looked away immediately. He tried to find some space to maneuver into, but the subway car was packed full. Alek could feel Ethan’s clothes rub up against his body.

  “Do you know where we’re going?” Alek asked nervously.

  “Course I do.”

  “Will you show me on your map?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Why not?”