𝔸 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝔹𝕪 𝔸𝕟𝕪 𝕆𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 ℕ𝕒𝕞𝕖 - reddie

#𝟚𝟝: 𝔸𝕝𝕝 𝕀 𝔼𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕎𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕕

"How many tickets, bud?"

The taximan's thick New Jersey accent suggested that he wasn't from Maine, a cigar stuck between his forefinger and his thumb, which was resting tenderly over the steering wheel.

I crouched lower toward the passenger's seat window, my hand slumped over the lip of the hood. I kept my other hand in my pocket, which trembled within it. "Just one."

I watched as the man looked at me up and down, as the reflection of the rear view mirror seemed to capture my demeanor. His piercing brown eyes caught the sun at the right moment, and it seemed like they were dripping in honey.

I had to double-take as I basically slumped into the backseat of the taxi once he printed out my ticket and handed it to me. I had no idea why, and then an unusual sense of dread and nostalgia rushed over me.

They looked like Eddie's eyes. Small and round and gentle and charismatic. Almost childlike.

And then the calm cessation feeling that I felt was gone. I broke the gaze that we held in the mirror and stared at my lap, my chest heaving slowly. I got the oddest sensation of unease, as if this taxi driver was actually Pennywise in another one of his stupid Eddie skinsuits, under disguise. And then I remembered that this was impossible. We killed the clown. And the clown killed Eddie.

There was some prolonged silence soon after. He probably sensed that I had some hesitation, but he didn't let up his staring in the mirror.  I then unfolded my wallet in my pocket, flipping it open and withdrawing twenty dollars from within one of the flaps.

Clearing my throat, I tapped lightly on the glass divider that separates the back seat of the taxi and the front seat. "How much?" I asked, holding out the dollar bill for him to see. I took notice of the fact that one of his receipts, which was settled on the dashboard, read the name Jacobi. 

Within some quiet comprehension of the money in front of his eyes, the man looked down at the bill and back up to my face. He then scratched the bristly beard on his chin and sniffed. "No charge needed, buddy. It looks like you've been through enough today as it is."

I looked down at myself and was almost unmindful of the fact that I still had blood and dirt smeared over the front of my chest. I hadn't cleaned my clothing along with my own body when I had jumped in the lake. Plus, my hair was still slick and musty from the drying state it was in. I probably looked like I escaped a psych ward.

 I wasn't sure how to rebound from a statement like that, and I rubbed the inner corners of my eyes under my glasses. "You sure?"

"Sure. You seem lost, pal. Pardon my french if you're a religious man," he paused after his statement and licked his chapped lips. "But you look like hell, if you don't mind my saying so. Do you fuck around with construction sites or something?"

I shook my head at his first statement. "It's okay," I stroked my hand over my forehead, feeling more droplets of lake water drip from each strand of the hair that settled over my eyes. I cleared my throat. "Yeah, I do."

Jacobi let silence fill the cab and watched me once more in the mirror, as if assuming I'd go on to explain. When I didn't, he took another drag of his cigarette and blew it out quickly. "So, Mr..." he lingered over his words so I'd insert my name.

"Tozier."

He repeated the word as if it was a gourmet meal in his mouth. "Tozier. You look vaguely familiar, Mr. Tozier, have I seen you before?"

I thought for a moment, then shook my head and stroked my thumb over the ticket in my hand.

"Tozier..." he slung his arm over the back of his seat, and his face lit up. I almost could see a cartoon light bulb appear above his head. "Like, like uh.." he snapped with his left hand, squeezing his eyes shut thoughtfully. "Rich? Richie Tozier?"