Page 55 of Genesis
Danny
2003
I stand at the scrapyard, watching as they crush my car. I didn’t report the damage to my insurance company because there would be too many questions, and the guy I got to look at the car said it would cost more to fix the shit than the thing was worth. They fucked my engine and the top frame. How we didn’t get popped beats the hell out of me.
I hit my cigarette as the man gives me some cash for the car, and then I turn and climb into Johnny’s. “What now?” he asks.
“Now I gotta find another ride.” I toss my smoke and shut the car door, looking at the time on the radio. It’s early still. Maybe I’ll swing by Bexley’s school after I get a new car and surprise her. Take her to eat or something. I haven’t stop thinking about her all day. Yesterday was one of the best days of my life. She doesn’t know how happy she makes me.
“How’s the new apartment?” I ask Johnny as we head down the road.
“Fine. Carson is going to have to get out soon, though. He’s messy as hell.”
I laugh.
“What car lot you wanna go to?” he asks.
“The one on Cotton Avenue. At the corner.”
“All right. You paying cash?”
“Yeah. If they got anything worth a shit. If not, we’ll have to go across town.”
Johnny reaches for his cigarettes and Zippo lighter.
“Did I tell you I talked to Officer Radcliff a while back?”
Johnny lights his smoke. “No.”
“Motherfucker told me Warren sends his regards. These cops around here abuse their power.”
“In a way, it’s a good thing,” Johnny says.
I look over at him questionably.
He shrugs, letting his window down a bit. “If they weren’t crooked, you and I would be in prison.”
I scoff. “You’re probably right.”
We pass through town, riding under bridges and seeing the homeless sleep alongside big black trash bags against the fences we pass.
“Has Moretti said what he wants to do about Warren and his men?” Johnny asks me.
“Not yet. But I’m sure he’s thinking on it. Whatever we do, it’s got to be a surprise for them. They can’t know we’re coming.”
“Yeah,” he agrees, and that’s all we say about that.
The day moves along, and after we go to a few car lots, I finally find a 1985 Chevy Monte Carlo I have to have.
The guy nearly shits his pants when I give him cash for the thing. I call my insurance company from a pay phone and get it switched over, and then I part ways with Johnny, telling him I’ll meet him later at the clubhouse. On my way to Bexley’s school, I think about the conversation we had on Thanksgiving.
It’s the sweet ones that win eventually. With that thought, I stop by the local flower shop and buy her some roses. I’m pulling into the full parking lot a little after three as high schoolers stand around each other’s cars talking shit about their day and whatever else. A bunch of kids chase each other with snowballs, laughing and almost busting their ass on the slick ground.
A feeling I don’t care for swarms in my chest. Maybe I missed out. I never gave school a chance, always ready to get out and run the streets. Once I park the car, I look over, seeing a make-out session in the back seat of an older Honda. I exhale, wondering what it would be like to walk out of the school with Bexley, holding her hand so all these little fuckers knew she was mine.
And then I burst out laughing. I didn’t miss out on shit. These kids have no fucking clue what real life is. When they leave here, they’ll be forced to get dead-end jobs, saving up every penny they can for when they finally get ready to retire, while I’ve already made enough to leave all this behind if I really wanted to. I’ve been putting money under my mattress since I was thirteen. My only big spends were two cars and a house, and I still have enough cash to live off of for a while without earning another penny.
But it’s not even about the money for me. It’s the thrill of saying fuck the rules. I’ll live how I choose and not how society thinks I should. No body owns you. You don’t come into this world with a rulebook that has a checklist you must follow.
