International Blvd

Marginally True Story

“International Boulevard is a bad place,” she said, pulling up to the gas station.  Mom shoved her purse underneath the front seat and turned to face me.  “Lock the doors and wait for me to come back.”  I watched in silent agony as my guardian left the vehicle to buy gas in the main building, and despite being only yards away, I felt alone and small now.

     A man stood by the cleaning station between the two filling stands, one hand shoved in his pocket and the other twirling a wet squeegee.  His scraggly white hair coagulated with his beard, and together they stretched down to his sternum.   The man stared at me, his eyes indifferent beneath the shade of his blue Adidas hat, and I reached over to lock the door, but then stopped.  He was waving to me, and smiling very friendly-like.  Would he be angry if he saw me lock the door?  Hesitantly, I waved back.  What if he tried to approach me?  The man gave me the thumbs up, and then followed it by connecting his thumb and forefinger into the okay sign.  He smiled again, his crooked yellow teeth unabashedly displayed.  A nervous white thumb wobbled to the surface of my fist.  The man took a step towards me, and then another, and then he was close enough that I could see the zipper of his black parka, and when he was that close, he took up the squeegee and began washing the windshield of the car.  Blue suds crawled down the glass inches from my face.  I was horrified.  Periodically, he would stop to reload on cleaning fluid, and then the cleaning of the car would resume.  The last thing I saw was my mom exiting the station, her face wide and frozen, and then the bubbly liquid covered her too.  I heard footsteps and conversation before the foam went down.

     “Ma’am, I thought I might clean your car.”

     “I didn’t ask for you to!”

     “Ma’am, I thought it was a little dirty so I thought I might clean your car for you.”

     The door swung open and my mom sat down as viciously as could have been possible.  The sudden stench of the man was almost unbearable.  It stunk of labor and cheap alcohol.

     “Ma’am, your boy has been very kind to me.  You have a very kind boy.”

     “Thank you sir,” I whispered, as my mom slammed the door shut.  She looked at me, disturbed, and then we sped away.  I was never sure if the man heard me, but as we turned onto International Boulevard and the suds were sucked from my window, he was watching.  He gave me the thumbs-up and smiled.  I smiled back, just smiled back, and his eyes welled up with life.  

(this is based on a true story.  however, my mom would never shun a homeless man)

Reviews

[zach h.]

This is a great story. I like how it starts off making us think one way, and by the end of it we are in a totally different mindset. The writing style is really good. I love that this is broken up into as many paragraphs as it is. My biggest annoyance when reading stories is not having enough white space on the page. By breaking up the story, it flows so much better, and it doesn't leave the reader overwhelmed. Nice job. Great hook by the way. Sets up the story really well. Fantastical.