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Pickpocket
“Over there by the vending machines,” Jason said. Hands in his pockets, he looked up pointedly from underneath pale, almost nonexistent, lashes and shaggy blonde hair. He conveyed his words with his cerulean eyes instead of pointing or nodding or anything else that would have drawn attention to us. I turned my head to follow his line of sight, looking past the crowds of people busying around the wide corridor just outside the subway platforms. I kept a smile on my face as if I was in mid-laugh from something Jason said. I leaned casually against the wall, and twiddled with my string bracelet. I did everything a normal person would have done. I blended in.
By the vending machines was a tall guy with dark brown hair that fell in waves to his shoulders. His back was turned to me but I could tell he had a dark grey t-shirt on and jeans that were one hairbreadth away from skinny. I could tell why Jason picked him out. The guy looked established, stable. A closer look granted me vision of the Calvin Klein logo on his jeans. His shoes were untied and dirty but they were new. A flash of his right wrist showed me an expensive silver watch. So he was definitely well off. And left-handed.
“Same dark hair. A real looker,” Jason said and I could practically hear the smirk in his voice.
No matter what we were talking about, my brother managed to make the situation more
uncomfortable by bringing up my recent breakup. At first, the relationship was going well. I was so happy when I was with him that I could almost forget the fact that I was homeless. I would forget that my dad gambled away what was left of our savings (with no success) to try and pay for Mom’s hospital bill. I couldn't blame him really, but I was still ashamed. Shutting out these parts of my life that were so inevitably intact only served to build this mask of a person who wasn’t truly me. I hid behind this mask when I was with him, and I ended up believing that it was better off this way – that it was better off living a lie. I repainted myself in more normal colors, colors that everyone liked. Eventually, he found out the kind of person I really was, and he was disgusted. I had never seen an expression of love and tenderness change to disgust and horror that quickly. I can still see his brows furrowed as he looked down his nose at me. His lips thinned out disapprovingly. His nostrils flared when I tried denying everything. Somewhere in my mind I thought that my circumstances and my past didn't change who I was. I thought that it didn't matter where I came from or what my parents were like. But it obviously did, and it still does now.
See, even now I can barely accept the facts and sometimes I blur the truth a little. I said my father gambled away our entire savings... which is somewhat true. Really, he got into some shady business selling crack and ended up getting cheated of most of his money. I suppose it was the desperation that pushed him over the edge. Mom's hospital bills in the oncology and psychology wards were becoming increasingly hefty. I can't imagine drug dealing being a secret hobby of his. What money Dad had left after the exchange, he used to buy more of the stuff to cope with his tragic financial loss. It was a sick cycle and did nothing but hurt the family. In that moment though, Dad probably forgot he had a family to take care of. I know he wouldn't have done what he did if he remembered he had me and Jason and Mom to take care of. At least... that's what I keep telling myself.
Since hitting official bankruptcy in January, Jason and I ditched our Dad and went to the city to try and make a life of our own. We both got jobs, mine at a convenience store - graveyard shift. He worked at a local bar every other night, cleaning the bathrooms. It was obvious that I got the better end of the deal, but then again I was always smarter, more professional. I took care of us. As of now we didn't have a home, but we considered the city our home. Cozy alleyways shielded from the weather by tall buildings and other peoples' balconies were our usual place of residence. Other times we'd find a place in a lesser known park to settle down. We could hide what little possessions we had in the bushes. No one had the gall to steal a homeless person's things anyway.Staying with Dad would do none of us good. Perhaps this way he could come to his senses, clean up a little, and get a steady job. He was living with some old college pals for now, couch surfing until he could straighten himself out. I hadn't heard of him since. We've decided as a family to let Mom pass peacefully. Over the next few months she'd be living 24/7 at the Riverview Hospital for hospice care. She'd have a quaint little room in the nicer
portion of the hospital with a twin-sized bed, 3 meals a day, and a square window that showed her a simple garden. She'd also get pain and general quality of life medications so the effects of her sicknesses didn't well... affect her as much. This was a lot cheaper than the treatment she needed and even then there was no guarantee that the treatment would work. That's what cancer does. With a developing Parkinson's disease on top of stage IV melanoma, letting her pass peacefully seemed to be the best option we could give her. I was sad to see her have to go but she hadn't been acting like herself in a while. I suppose it was the disease doing that and I probably lost her long ago. My time to grieve was over before I knew it had begun.
I took a breath then, noting the smells of spring rain and fuel and a distinct metallic-ness that could only be associated with the underground. Casually, I took out my wallet and started walking towards the vending machines. I made sure to look down at my wallet, seemingly searching for a dollar, when I bumped into the tall guy. He spun to face me upon impact.
"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed, putting my arms out as if trying to steady him. I let my hands rest on his forearms for a short moment before letting go. I could feel the bulky watch on his right hand. My hair fell in my face as I turned to put my wallet away. I used this time to give the guy a cursory glance. The dark grey shirt I saw earlier had the words "saving silver" in block lettering as well as an abstract cityscape design in black. He had a string necklace with a round blue pebble hanging from it. Aquamarine my mind automatically supplied me. Well the guy was definitely not unattractive.
"No worries," he said nonchalantly. He was about to turn back to browsing the selection of snacks behind the glass when I blurted out that I liked his shirt. I needed to keep him talking and establish trust, or at the very least, a sense of ease.
"You listen to saving silver?" he said, curiosity igniting a gleam in his eyes.
I racked my memory for any mention of this band I had either heard or saw. My mind drew up blank but that didn't mean I had nothing to go on.
"Yeah, I love their stuff. Haven't heard anything new from them in a while though, have you?" If I hadn't heard the name on any of the local stations then perhaps what I said was believable.
"Naw, nothing really. It's a shame that they.. broke up." There was something off by the way he said this. His words contradicted each other. He paused too long before answering to my question. He was testing me I thought suddenly. If the band had really broken up, he'd call me out on it with a 'Didn't you hear they broke up?' or 'They broke up a while ago you know'. Still there were bound to be holes in my reasoning and I couldn't afford to wait any longer before replying.
"They broke up? Are you sure? Hm, weird that I didn't hear of that sooner..." I started. I paused at the end of my sentence to give him time to interject and correct himself.
"No no, I was just testing you," he chuckled briefly and his eyes lit up with that same curious gleam I saw earlier. "It's not every day you meet a saving silver fan... had to make sure you were the real deal." I could see the smirk on his face but couldn't hear it in his voice.
I let out a miniscule sigh of relief. My deductions had saved me. "I'm Annabelle, by the way," I said, reaching my hand out to grasp his in a friendly shake.
"Icarus."
"Oh like the Greek flying boy?" He began nodding before I finished my question and I could only guess he'd heard it before. "I like that name. It's unique."
"Unique? The boy dies 'cause he was too reckless and ignorant to just listen. What a promising name for a promising future." I could tell he was trying to be light and humorous about it, but there was something in the way he spoke. He put too much emphasis on the words 'reckless' and 'ignorant'. Icarus wasn't looking at me then but I could tell the gleam had gone from his eyes.
Something had happened to him. Something recent.
I laughed along anyway and searched to change the topic. Bringing my wallet back out again I asked if he had change for a $20. My head was bent while I seemed to be double-checking the contents of my wallet. I averted my eyes towards him and saw him reach into his left back pocket for his money. He brought out a wad of crumpled bills. Perfect. Loose money was a lot easier to steal than a bulky wallet.
"Sorry I don't have change... but if all you need is a dollar I can just give you one."
I was surprised that he was so quick to give money to a complete stranger. Sure, we had an amicable conversation but for all he knew, I could be a psychopath or a serial killer. Or both. I guess he was lucky that I was only a thief.
A million thoughts ran through my head in that moment, contemplating the pros and cons of accepting the dollar he was holding out to me. Would rejecting the dollar dissolve any semblance of friendship we had built? Would accepting it mark me as a possible suspect when he later realized something was missing? In the end, I accepted it, thinking that by the time he found out something was wrong, I would be long gone. With a wide grin and a soft-spoken thanks, I went to the vending machine and got myself a bag of potato chips. Free lunch.
"Thanks again Icarus," I said, walking back over to him. "It was nice to meet you." I raised my arms up and hugged him. It took him a second to register the hug and reciprocate the action. In that moment of hesitation, I carefully reached into his left back pocket and took the crumpled wad of bills. Over the months, I had perfected this technique to the point where he wouldn't feel so much as a very slight breeze. As the hug ended and I took my arms away from him, I let the bills slip into the sleeve of my shirt so he wouldn't see. Another smile and a parting glance later and I was back where Jason was.
"Smooth," he said. I disregarded his comment, not wanting to bother picking it apart for hints of sarcasm or arrogance. With a sharp nod towards the exit, I motioned for Jason to follow me out of the Subway platform. It would be only moments before Icarus realized what I had taken.
Once outside, I kept walking to the current park where we resided. I ignored all comments and questions Jason fired at me.
"Annabelle, slow down." Jason grabbed my arm and I hastily yanked it away.
"Don't ever grab me like that," I hissed but I slowed my pace nonetheless.
"What has gotten into you? Are you okay?" His second question, while phrased to sound
concerning, was more accusatory than anything. What had gotten into me? It was just the same old job. Warming up to a stranger and then stealing his money. Why was it any different with this one guy? I couldn't explain it, but something felt wrong. Normally, I bent my morals when I was on the job. After all, you can't very well contemplate good and bad when you're stealing. I waded in the gray area. But something about stealing from Icarus made me feel guilty.
And the fact that I felt this guilt made me uncomfortable.
I quickly decided to shrug the feeling off because it was stupid to let my feelings get involved.
What mattered now was surviving, not my conscience.
"Sorry, it's nothing. I'm just hungry is all," I explained. As I was saying this I brought out the bag of chips and Jason's eyes lit up with desire and youth.
"Hey Annabelle, did I ever tell you how great of a sister you are?"
"Yeah, yeah okay. Just save some for me." And with that, I tossed the bag to him and grinned as he practically tore it open with his teeth. Even through the poverty and hardships, we managed to keep small bits of ourselves. Jason had always loved potato chips and he wasn't going to let homelessness change that. No matter what happened, nothing, and no one, could take away who we truly are. I liked that we were able to keep these little things about us intact. It was what made each day a little more bearable. And a little more hopeful.
After a bit of walking, Jason and I reached South River Park and found the little cluster of bushes that kept our stuff. I sat down and shook the contents out of my sleeve.
"S***..." I muttered. It was then that I knew those feelings of guilt were real and justified. I cursed some more under my breath, low enough that Jason wouldn't realize something was wrong. But damn. I really messed this one up.
*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*
What a nice girl, I thought. She was cute too... She almost-. No. I had to stop that thought
there. I couldn't admit to myself... but it was true. For those few moments that I was talking to Annabelle, I felt refreshed. I forgot about everything that had happened in the past few days and I simply focused on this pretty girl with a great taste in music and an even greater smile.
She made me feel new. But that was horrible right? My stupid hormones shouldn't diminish the severity of my brother’s suicide. And with that, a new pang of darkness flooded me.
It wasn't just one feeling; not just sorrow, or anger, or guilt. The darkness was everything
put together. It was as if every negative feeling - every bad day, every harsh comment - had collected behind this murky glass window. Previously, I was safe from the wrath of these things. I was ignorant and the glass was still murky. But when my brother died - no, when he took his life - the glass broke and I realized that it hadn't been murky all along. The glass was clear... the feelings behind it were murky. It was the darkness waiting behind this clear glass. I could see it all my life but had thought nothing of it. Now, it was overwhelming me. It had taken up a permanent residence within me. I could breathe but I could never breathe fully enough. I felt constricted, like there were ropes or chains around my inner being. It had been this way since I read JP's note.
As if on cue, my hand started towards my left back pocket, where I always kept it. I didn't want to reread it but something kept forcing me to. His last words were burned into my memory from reading them over and over. I can't take it anymore he said. I can't take the lies and deceit and there's just no point. There was more of course. Apologies and promises of love but they seemed half-hearted at best. If he really loved us, he wouldn't leave us.
Oh god it was all my fault. It was always all my fault. I should have seen the signs coming; I should have seen that JP was quieter and more reserved. I should have noticed something was wrong when he asked me what the easiest large artery to reach was. I can't believe I actually answered him. How stupid could I be? I should have been more available for him. I should have picked on him less, made sure he was happy more often, done anything a good big brother would have done. I should have saved him. I could have saved him. I could have saved them.
God, he was so stupid. So reckless and ignorant. Didn't he know how much Mom loved him? He was always her favorite. I could see the way she smiled at him when she thought I wasn't looking. But I guess that didn't matter to him because he's selfish and oh so stupid. No it's not his fault. How was he to know that Mom would kill herself once she found out? I argued with myself. But JP should have had some notion of reason. But no, he was the Greek myth, Icarus. The boy who had a pair of wings that his father had given him. Icarus used those wings to fly away from home but he flew too close to the sun and melted the wax that held the wings together. And he started plummeting towards the Earth and towards his premature death. Icarus didn't listen to anyone's warnings of flying too close to the sun. Icarus was ignorant and inconsiderate.
JP was, too. He wanted to escape this world that he thought was cruel and burdensome. He flew away, but he flew too far and died. I suppose that was the goal... but how could JP leave us like that?
Where was that damn piece of paper? I took out the contents of all my pockets, but JP's suicide note was gone. The darkness was strong as ever in that moment, pounding against my throat. I frantically began searching the Subway platform for a crumpled white piece of paper. I couldn't lose the only thing I had left of my brother. It was the ultimate disrespect to his memory. Panic began settling itself into my every nerve. A cold sweat broke out over my palms and an eerie qualm and worked its way into
the pit of my stomach. I couldn't... I couldn't-
And then I stopped. And I took a breath. Because I could. Just a few moments ago, with that girl Annabelle, I could. I had let go of the darkness and nothing bad happened. Maybe I didn't have to be controlled by it anymore. Maybe I could feel the way I did with Annabelle, more often.
Could it possible that JP's suicide wasn't my fault? It seemed blasphemous to even explore this idea but if there was a chance to escape the darkness... I had to at least try. I could try. I didn't have to let this darkness control me.
Maybe there was a chance after all. Maybe what's past would stay past.
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