Steady |
Issue 13
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Jesse swung down from the bus with one hand in his pocket. His feet hit the sidewalk in full run, and he allowed his momentum to propel him forward into a few extra quick steps before settling into long strides. The bus roared off, and he enjoyed the momentary brush of warm exhaust on his trousers that quickly dissipated, leaving the smell of city twilight in the air. He walked down the street, shifting his eyes to a snack stand on the right. He hopped up to the counter, slapped a few coins down, and walked on with a can of seltzer from the fridge.
Jesus, she’s going to kill me. He cracked the can and downed it in one drought, feeling the bubbles on his tongue. He breathed out through his mouth, enjoying the bite at the back of his throat, crumpled the can in his hand and smartly sent it into a trashcan with a flick. He held his hands out in front of him, eyeing them. Satisfied, he kept walking. The sound of the late afternoon traffic blanketed his thoughts with a low murmur. She’s gonna kill me. He shook his head, smiling in spite of himself. The buildings on the right gave way to a stretch of green park. There were couples walking around a pond in the center. Parents pushed kids in strollers. Jesse glanced passed the foliage and saw several kids playing soccer. He veered off the sidewalk, ducking under a branch, just in time to field the ball an errant kick had sent toward the trees. “Hey, what are you doing?” one of the kids shouted. Jesse handled the ball a moment and then sent it back onto the pitch. He dropped to his hands and knees and did several pushups in quick succession before hopping up and trotting back onto the sidewalk. He glanced at his watch. Ten minutes. Sara worked at the preschool up the street from their apartment just around the corner from the park. Jesse’s job was across the river on the big dig, the site of the next subway line. He operated one of the small bulldozers, and the churned earth left his clothes and skin covered with a thin skein of dust every day. He usually got home before her and took a shower. Their apartment was half a mile from the river, and Jesse savored these walks home from the bus stop before she arrived. The evening light. The slower pace of the crowds. The… He shook his head as he turned onto their street, willing his mind to clear. Rather than go up to the apartment, he sat on the ledge outside the front door. He held his face up and closed his eyes, savoring the last rays of warmth from the sun as it flickered through the gently moving leaves of the neighborhood trees. A moment later he heard Sara’s small, quick steps turning onto their street from the other end. He stood up. “Hi,” she said, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes. The was nervous and her movements seemed clumsy…unpracticed. He smiled and reached forward to gently pass his thumb across her chin. As he did, he studied his hand again. They turned and walked together without talking. They turned onto the main boulevard. Jesse pretended to drum in the air as he walked, and then gently tapped her shoulder a few beats. She kept her eyes on the sidewalk. A moment later and they were standing outside the clinic. “Want me to go in with you?” she said. “Nah,” Jesse looked up at the building. “I’ll manage.” She nodded and turned toward a bench on the sidewalk. “I’ll be here,” she said. He nodded at her, and then he went inside. |
Zary Fekete grew up in Hungary. He has a debut novella (Words on the Page) out with DarkWinter Lit Press and a short story collection (To Accept the Things I Cannot Change: Writing My Way Out of Addiction) out with Creative Texts. He enjoys books, podcasts, and many many many films. Twitter and Instagram: @ZaryFekete Bluesky:zaryfekete.bsky.social
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Afterward they walked side by side down the sidewalk back toward their street. By now the traffic had thinned as the full dark of evening had settled across the city. They didn’t talk. When Jesse came out of the clinic, he handed Sara the write-up the doctor had typed. She was reading it as they walked, turning the page to catch the light of the occasional street lamp. They reached their street, and Sara looked up at him.
“Did he say anything else?”
Jesse shrugged. “He said to come back next week, same time. Like we agreed.”
She nodded, looking back down at the paper. She turned toward their street, but he held back.
“You go up,” he said. “I’m gonna go to confession.”
She turned back to him and her brow wrinkled. She held up the doctor’s paper. “Jesse…”
He looked at her. “What, babe?”
She looked at her feet, but when she looked back up her gaze was firm. “Show me your hands.”
His smiled and put out his hands. They were even. Steady.
“Good?” he said. He reached forward and ruffled her hair. For a moment the street disappeared and he was with her in the school hallway with students streaming by and paper airplanes flying overhead and her impossibly young eyes.
“I’ll be up after mass,” he said. “Don’t worry.” Before she could speak, he turned and crossed the street.
He jogged lightly across the park. The church on the other side was lit from below by evening spotlights. It looked glowing and cold. He reached the steps and stopped, glancing both ways. He was about to go in, but he didn’t. He turned instead and jogged up the street to the snack stand. He ignored the seltzers in the cooler and instead pointed to the shelves on the back wall.
He slapped more coins on the counter.
“Did he say anything else?”
Jesse shrugged. “He said to come back next week, same time. Like we agreed.”
She nodded, looking back down at the paper. She turned toward their street, but he held back.
“You go up,” he said. “I’m gonna go to confession.”
She turned back to him and her brow wrinkled. She held up the doctor’s paper. “Jesse…”
He looked at her. “What, babe?”
She looked at her feet, but when she looked back up her gaze was firm. “Show me your hands.”
His smiled and put out his hands. They were even. Steady.
“Good?” he said. He reached forward and ruffled her hair. For a moment the street disappeared and he was with her in the school hallway with students streaming by and paper airplanes flying overhead and her impossibly young eyes.
“I’ll be up after mass,” he said. “Don’t worry.” Before she could speak, he turned and crossed the street.
He jogged lightly across the park. The church on the other side was lit from below by evening spotlights. It looked glowing and cold. He reached the steps and stopped, glancing both ways. He was about to go in, but he didn’t. He turned instead and jogged up the street to the snack stand. He ignored the seltzers in the cooler and instead pointed to the shelves on the back wall.
He slapped more coins on the counter.