Ouch! Buzz - Come on! I can’t take it anymore! And believe it or not… I’ve been here before. It’s a rainy Tuesday, and I’m down on 9th Street in Chino’s Bodega. I’ve been in here for a whole while now, in my own plastic prison. Before this, I was chilling by the unwanted fruit on the stand outside, ironically enjoying the sun before the storm. I buzzed my way inside, settled by the sink, and enjoyed dipping my back legs on water droplets, getting a little wash in. Outta nowhere, my world is surrounded by a blurry white wall. I panic, I buzz, I push and shove. I’m stuck! I buzz as hard as I can, but my own noise falls back on me as the cup resisted the sound. I look up, and a young kid is washing dishes by the sink, bobbing his head to street beats. Without even noticing me, he plonks another clean cup on top of the one holding me captive. Again and again, he carries on stacking cups, barely lifting his sleepy little eyes to catch me fighting for my freaking life in the cup! This freaking schmuck!
It’s now dawn, and I can hear the streets of New York waking up. Finally, a guy steps into the store and started pulling off covers from the windows, letting the early sunlight in. He is huge! Very tall and big build, this guy would crush at football. A few people come in from time to time, and he’d stop the moment they walk in and make his way behind the cashier. Barely making eye contact with anyone and standing very still. I don’t think I hear this kid’s saying anything yet. He takes the chance when the store is emptied and comes into the side room to grab a glass of water from the sink.
I am about to start struggling in the cup again so he’d notice me, but before I can do anything. He simply lifts the stack of cups and arranges them on the shelves on top of the sink. One by one, I sit there, frozen. I have to be really careful about my next move. I am free. My wings are ready to buzz, but the guy towers over me. I wish I could thank the fella for saving my life, but I am afraid he would look down and swat me. Us flies have a lifespan of 28 days for a reason… we’re not the most popular of bugs. He keeps the last cup in his hand and leans down to fill it with the tap water, grabbing himself a drink.
I instinctively dodge one of the droplets of water that reflects off the sink and turn to check on the guy to find him staring at me. I think about playing dead, but he will just swipe me into the trash can. Maybe this is the time to fly away, but I stay, he stays, we sit very still for a while until he finishes his drink. Once he is done, he turns around and opens the small window of the side room that leads out into the streets. Is that for me? My escape! What a kind soul! He doesn’t say a word, just gently puts his cup down in the sink and walks back into the store.
You’d think I’d buzz my ass right out through that top window, but I don’t. I stay, watching the kid work for a little while. I just think maybe I should keep an eye on him. The least I can do to thank him for saving me is keep other bugs off him, stop any other flies from buzzing around his food. And I get enough reputation with the mosquitos to tell them to get lost. After a while, a short woman in a caftan and head wrap walks in. She comes in singing a soulful hymn and walks straight into the back room before a distinctive grave voice stops her.
“Morning Mrs. P,” says the boy from behind the cashier. The woman turns to face him with a startled yet warm smile, coming closer to pat his high shoulders, barely reaching.
“Morning, my son! Listen, I was able to get you that suit jacket you asked for. I talked to Ginnie from the Dry Cleaner down the street, and she said the man didn’t come to pick it up after three weeks, so don’t bother bringing it back to me, alright? Alright.” She doesn’t give him time to say anything before as she pulls out the dark grey suit jacket that dangles from the hanger. She presses it against his chest, checking the size. “You won’t know till you have it on. Go on. “She orders. He takes the hanger in his hand and switches places with her, letting her take the cashier position. “You don’t want to be late for the job interview.” She says, raising a sassy brown when he just stands there.
I follow him as he leaves the store and stops in front of the glass window, catching his reflection. He is careful putting on the jacket, unsure if it would fit him. Fit him it does. It doesn’t match his basketball shorts or his slippers, and the concern shows on his face. He buttons up a bit to hide the stains on the T-Shirt below the jacket. This kid is as dirty as a fly, and trusts me, I would know! That doesn’t seem to stop him. I watch him until he turns the street corner. I don’t know if I’d fly into him again. He’d probably nail that job interview and ride up in the world, but right now, he is the boy that doesn’t smack a grubby fly.