Blue Tarp - part one

For the fourth day in a row Ahmad listened to the rain battering the blue plastic tarp over his head. He shifted his butt so that the water trickling down the wall behind him didn’t soak through his torn up jeans. This was his only dry pair left. Two other pairs in his cart were already soaked and he had traded his sweats to Sammy for a pack of Winstons. He was smoking the last cigarette of the pack now.

Time. That was the worst thing. There was so much time. It was worse than the rain. Worse than the smell. Hell, he didn’t really notice the smell anymore. But time passed so slowly. He shifted again and tried to force saliva down his dry throat. Soon he would have to go out and find something to eat. He cracked the tarp open to blow smoke outside, weighing the options: get wet or stay hungry. The spattering of rain against his face convinced him. He was staying put.

He watched a tiny spider crawl up on the seat cushion he was crouched on.

“Hi Eight Legs,” Ahmad smiled.

He put out his forefinger and let the spider crawl up on it. It crawled up to his second knuckle, and then turned around and headed back to the tip. Of course, by that time Ahmad’s brown hand was in the air. The yellowed fingernail was a dead end. Ahmad watched its plight as it circled his finger looking for an escape. Then, when it launched itself into the air trailing a thread behind, Ahmad grabbed the web with his other hand and kept reeling it in hand over hand so the spider remained suspended in the air. Finally he let it land on the back of his left hand. Ahmad chuckled and brought the spider up to his eyes. He stared at it, squinting in the dim bluish light.

“Hey, where’s your face, bud? Don’t wanna be talking to your ass.” He turned his hand this way and that. “Trying to stay dry, too, huh?” Just then, Ahmad felt a pinprick pain on the back of his hand.

“Hey! Watcha doin’ faggot?!” With a swift movement, he turned his hand over and smashed the spider against his thigh. “Little asswipe,” he muttered.

He stubbed out the cigarette, picked the ashes off the end and put the stub in his shirt pocket to finish later. He lay back on the cushion and closed his eyes. He’d sleep and maybe the sun would be out when he woke up and he could go get some chips.
…………………………………………………………

There was a rustling of the plastic outside.

“Ahmad! Ahmad, you in there?”

Ahmad recognized Marty’s voice. He contemplated being quiet so that Marty would go away. Nah, he’ll just come in away. He had done it before. Ahmad had come back a couple of times to find Marty in his place. Why he didn’t just beat his ass, he didn’t know.

“Yeah. I’m here. Leave me alone.”

“Aw, c’mon. I got water running down my legs out here!”

“That’s not my problem. You should’ve planned better. I don’t have room in here!”

Marty was always like that. Never thinking about the future. Ahmad thought about that old fable his second grade teacher made them read. What was it? The Ant and the… He looked down at the smashed spider on his leg and flicked it off.

The tarp parted and a thin, pale hand came in clutching a half empty bag of Doritos.

“I’ll share,” Marty’s voice said in a sing-song.

Ahmad put his hand on his stomach and sat up.

“OK,” he grumbled and grabbed the bag. “Don’t get my stuff wet!”

A blast of cold, humid air hit Ahmad’s face as the plastic parted. Marty crawled into the small space. Ahmad wasn’t lying. There really wasn’t much room. With the tarp tied onto the shopping cart behind him and the warehouse doorknob facing, there was barely enough space to lie down. Ahmad brought his knees up to his chest to let Marty pass. That didn’t stop that klutz Marty from stepping on him. On his sore foot at that.

“Ouch! Watch where you’re goin’, godammit!” Marty jerked his right foot back.

“Sorry man.” Marty flopped around and sat down leaning against the warehouse door. “Jesus! When will this ever stop? We’re gonna have to build an ark pretty soon.”

“Like you could build anything.” Ahmad shoved a handful of Doritos in his mouth and began untying his shoe.

“Hey, I’m good with my hands. I got that lock off of your cart’s wheel didn’t I?”

“Yeah, so why don’t you get one of your own?” He took off his shoe, peeled down his black sock and examined the sore on top of his foot. It had grown a lot since he last looked two days ago. Shit. He pulled the sock back up.

“Nah, carts tie you down too much. They’re for old ladies like you.”

“We’re the same age.”

“Dude, age has nothing to do with years,” he smiled a large toothy grin.

Marty shook his scraggly, dark hair like a dog, flinging droplets everywhere.

Ahmad wiped the water from his face. “You have no idea there is anyone in the world but you, do you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Never mind.”

“Hey. Do you have a dry shirt I could borrow?”

Ahmad looked at him for a second, huffed, turned and pulled a red, Coca-Cola t-shirt from the rack under the shopping cart.

“I know I’ll never see it again.” He tossed it at Marty’s face.

Marty grabbed it in midair. “Sure you will. I’ll show to you every time I wear it. Besides,” he smiled, “it’ll look better on me anyway.”

Marty shrugged off his windbreaker and pulled his wet undershirt over his head. “Here, you can have this one.” He tossed it at Ahmad.

“Like I want your gamy old clothes,” he said folding the t-shirt and putting it under his cart.

Ahmad kept his head down, glanced up to look at Marty’s thin, white chest, and then glanced away. Marty had gotten a lot skinnier than when they met last March. His tan, surfer boy body was gone. Now his jeans barely stayed on his hips. Didn’t look bad on him, though.

Marty stretched out his legs and leaned back. His wet boots lay between Ahmad’s feet. “Real nice place you got here. Real cozy.”

“Thanks.” Ahmad leaned back and closed his eyes again.

Marty’s foot tapped the side of Ahmad’s stockinged foot. “Hey.” Tap, tap, tap. “Hey!"

Exasperated, Ahmad snapped his head up. “What!”

“I saw him. He’s back in town.”

Ahmad narrowed his eyes. “Who?”

“You know who.” A small smile played on Marty’s lips. “Said he couldn’t take the weather in Phoenix, so he came back here. Yep, said it was the weather brought him back. Just the weather. Bad mistake, if you ask me”

“Where is he?” Ahmad leaned forward.

“I think I’ll take a nap, too.” Marty pulled his jacket up to his chin and leaned back.

“Marty!” Ahmad shook his leg. “Marty!”

“Don’t worry, babe. I’ll take you to him… Just as soon as the rain stops.” He chuckled with his eyes closed.

Continued...