Lakota Rossi

There is a Chance These Debts will be Paid

The air was chalky. Larger bits of black drifting in the winds off of the river looked like singular gnats lost from their cluster. A trolley car swayed on the tracks into the heavy air of the city. Across the wide street there was a hand painted sign hung on the side of a building. Below the sign, there was a rectangle of bricks that were discolored from the other bricks making up the building. Below, men were working to clear debris from the lot: wooden beams, piles of bricks, cans and other discarded sundries thrown over the short wooden fence surrounding the work site. 

A man stood on a small ledge at the bottom of the hand painted sign. He was slowly running a large paint roller along the image, covering the bright colors with a stark white. The sign showed a family waving from their car at the entrance to a lake surrounded by woods. The lake had little dots that if more closely inspected, if the man across the street had the energy to cross closer, would indicate other families enjoying different activities. As the white paint rolled over the advertisement, the green on the trees remained visible under the first coat of paint. 

The man watching from across the street took off his five paneled ivy cap and ran his hand through his dark hair that was slick with pomade. He pulled his hand away to see a few strands of hair stuck to his fingers. He put the cap back on and turned down the wide street toward the river. 

His footsteps turned to claps as he moved from the dirt to the cobblestones of the downtown. The shops and walking women were silhouetted by the dark clouds coming from the factories deeper in the city. 

As he walked past an alleyway, he heard steps echoing between the buildings. He did not pick up pace. He continued to move slowly, not removing his eyes from the hazy river coming closer with every step. 

“Hey, pal. Where are you headed?”

The man didn’t turn his gaze. “I’m going to the river, Jimmy.”

“There work down by the river?”

“Ain’t no work down by the river, Jimmy.”

“Then why you going down there? You hear that, pal?” The man called Jimmy put his hands in his pockets and started to shake his fists. 

“I don’t hear anything, Jimmy.”

“Exactly, paisan. I got kids and a wife busting my balls and no change in my pocket.” Jimmy kept looking at the man trying to catch his gaze. When the man continued to look forward, Jimmy continued, “Why you leaving me hanging, pal?”

“I ain’t leaving you hanging, Jimmy.”

“It feels like you’re leaving me hanging. It’s been months, friend. I need to get paid.”

“I’m working on it.”

“You obviously ain’t working.”

The man coughed. 

“No pity, friend. You shouldn’t have gotten sick after you took out that loan.”

“My kids were starving.”

Jimmy stopped. The man stopped, too. He kept looking forward. 

“I always liked you, pal. I know times is rough, but they are rough on me too. I’m going to start to not like you very soon.”

“I’ll give you something later in the week.”

The man continued to walk. Jimmy stayed standing where he was. As the man continued toward the river, Jimmy called out, “There better be gold coming into those docks.”

The man took off his cap and rubbed his scalp. Hair clung to his fingers, weakly tying together his pointer and middle finger. He rubbed his hands on his pants. 

The trolley bell rang as it passed. Little bits of dirt kicked up and bounced across the stones lining the street. In the chorus of claps of moving feet, he could sense certain claps directed toward him. He kept moving forward. 

“Darling.”

His wife was beside him. Her face was dirty. He turned to look at her and almost tripped over their son who stood staring up toward his father. The man didn’t respond. 

“How was today?”

The man didn’t respond.

“John came to the apartment today. He was asking about you.”

“Yes.”

“I thought you said you paid this week’s rent?”

“Yes.”

“Can you please look at me?”

The man turned his head. 

“What are we going to do?”

“I’m going to the river to look for an opportunity.”

“What opportunity is down by the river? There ain’t nothing there that you can do.”

“Maybe that’s the point. I’ve been everywhere that has stuff I can do. Didn’t work out.”

“Honey, I’m scared.”

He continued walking toward the river. He didn’t look to the side, but after a while, he no longer felt the presence of his wife and child. 

He made it to the river and placed his hand on the brass railing. There was a boat billowing black smoke that nestled below the city across the river, making the city look as if it was floating on a cloud. He coughed into his hand and looked at it. He rubbed his hand on his pants. 

For several minutes, bodies moved behind him. People talked. Some laughed. Some yelled. There were the quicker steps of children running along the river, waving at the incoming boats. 

He leaned forward and looked down into the dark river. He gripped the railing and leaned backwards, stretching his arms. He took in a deep breath and hoisted himself, lifting one leg over the railing. 

Bodies moved behind him. Some talking. The clapping on soles against the stones. And he tipped forward. Falling head first into the dark water.