A Pleasant Man

The kid was crying. The young man groaned and painted another damned grin on his face.

The tall man drove home. He pulled slice of the rye out and munched on it. His arm was cocked out the window, some rock n roll on the radio. Chuck Berry.

He pulled to a stoplight. He looked around at the other cars. In one was a blond woman, staring at him. When he looked over, she smiled. He smiled back. The light turned green. They sped off. The woman kept next to him until her turn off.

His house was a small Colonial one in a nice neighborhood. A bunch of kids were playing on the sidewalk in front of his house. He drove the car up slowly, cautious around the kids. They waved to him and when he pulled into his driveway and got out of the car, one threw a football at him. With ease he picked it out of the air. "Go long," he laughed. The kid backed up. The tall man threw it, a high easy arch. The kids laughed and clapped their hands. "Not bad for an old man," one yelled. The tall man laughed and removed the groceries from the passenger seat. He went to unlock the front door. The kids asked him if he wanted to play. The man looked at them and thought.

"You gonna play for a bit?"

The kids nodded.

"Let me eat. Ill be out in a bit. Fifteen minutes, tops."

The kids cheered and he went inside. They loved playing football with him.

He went in and directly to the kitchen. He put the groceries on the table. He got a plate and some napkins. He opened the fridge and pulled out mustard, pastrami, and beer. Half the pasta salad went on his plate along with a good-sized sandwich. He ate standing up, leaning against the window and watched the kids play. The mustard dripped to his chin and he wiped it away with one finger, licking it. Good, spicy mustard that stung your nostrils.

The other salad stayed on the kitchen table.

He finished his sandwich and salad. Sipping his beer, he went through the mail. Junk mail. Mr and Mrs. Halton YOU may have won a million dollars. He threw it in the garbage can. The tall man put the plate in the sink. Ran water over it. He walked to his bedroom and put on some old jeans and a t-shirt. Looked at himself in the mirror. Streaks of gray running in his hair. Old man, he thought.

The kids were yelling for him outside. He went to a window, cracked it open. "One second. Hold my position." He was always quarterback.

The tall man went to the kitchen and took the kidney bean salad off the table. He walked to the hall and opened the door to the basement. He flicked the lights and went down the stairs. They were gray and newly painted. It was a neat, clean basement. His washer and drier stood in one corner. In the other was an exposed section of dirt. Hunks of cement lay next to it. In the dirt a piece of PVC pipe stood up. He went to it, hefting the salad in his hands.

He leaned over it for a moment. It stank. His eyes watered and he kicked the pipe. "Hey honey, kid at the butcher shop asked how you were." He listened.

A small voice echoed up. "pleaseplease let me goI promise not toI promise" It broke off into incoherent sobs.