Man in the Cab || ✔

II

The air smelled different. It was damper and saline-like. The air was colder and seeped into his bones like needles gliding through skin. Ocean air, he realized. Eyes still closed, he felt a dull throb in his head and when he sat up, he felt the urge to puke. Flipping over onto his hands and knees, he purged his stomach as though the contents were his sins and the ground was a church. His stiff fingers fisted around tufts of frosted grass, and crackled fallen leaves. He opened his eyes.

He was in his hometown, and he'd never hated it more. The people sucked, and the city held no love for its inhabitants. It was a city one gwent when they wanted to disappear and die a loveless, passionless life.

Stanley Park had remained the same, and would always appear the same, no matter what went on in Jaxon's life. Throughout the death of his mother, the loss of his job, and the loss of his fiancée, it stood here unchanging, mocking him. He played here as a child where the leaves piled up high enough to disappear entirely when you jumped into them. The trees still had leaves on the trees, which was odd because it was December. There should have been no leaves and snow on the ground, but alas.

Jaxon was unsure of how he got here, but he assumed it had something to do with the cab. Slowly getting to his feet, he felt around for his wallet and keys, but neither made themselves known. His identity had been stolen, and the only thing remaining in his possession was his empty flask from his bachelor party. He pulled out the flask to chuck it over his shoulder, but paused. It wasn't empty. Jaxon was silent for a moment as he regarded the text that said, "Emergency Drinking Water," and brought it up to his ear. The contents sloshed around which led him to believe he was not going crazy.

Quickly unscrewing the top, he guzzled the liquid, but couldn't have spewed it out quicker. Someone had pissed into his flask. Someone actually had the gall to steal his phone, wallet, keys and piss into his flask. Wonderful. Gazing around wildly, he sought out the culprit, but he was alone with his thoughts and empty park benches; on them were plaques for people who actually did something meaningful with their lives. Jaxon could not say he'd done much of anything in life except work in a company that didn't care about him and stay with a toxic woman who left him a shattered heart.

Jaxon's goals and aspirations had died a long time ago in another world entirely.

The leaves fell.

The leaves dropped like lead weights instead of like feathers, floating gently to the ground. The wind picked them up and the leaves hurtled toward Jaxon and past him, as though guiding him. The obvious thing to do was to follow them, so follow the leaves he did. In passing, he noted a bench that had no message, just a black plaque. He imagined what it would say if it had his name on it.

In Memory of Jaxon Dempsey who hated this park and everyone in it.

He smiled at the thought.

As he walked away, the words etched onto the bronze space, and became forever apart of the park. Jaxon instead, continued following the leaves and never, not once, looked back. The leaves glided through the windless, night air, in lines straighter than coke off maxed out credit cards... not that Jaxon had experience with that sort of thing.

Beams of light pierced the darkness and blindsided Jaxon. Hands shaking as they feebly covered eyes, he glimpsed through spread fingers a sight he wish he never saw again. It was the dreaded cab. It was driving silently inches above the ground and stopped several feet away from him. The leaves dropped to the ground, lifeless once more.

Door swinging open, the cab beckoned him with no words or movement. A tingle at the base of his spine sent his mind into a fit, and he crumpled to the ground with images of his life swirling around like a real life movie. To his right by the pile of leaves, he saw his younger self jumping in them in bliss. His mother was to the side, smiling at the sight. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt such glee. To his left, he saw his red bicycle. It had been stolen in this very park.

On his knees, he put his forehead to the earth and whimpered when he smelled the perfume his mother used; it made him sneeze. He'd never liked it, but he now tolerated the scent in her death because it was a connection he still had. Lifting his forehead from the pavement, he immediately came into view of a pair of red heels. Scooting away, his chin lifted until he came face to face with his mother. His very, very dead mother, skeleton and all, though she did not look dead. She'd been buried in her favourite outfit, a plunging white blouse paired with killer heels and high waisted, black cigarette pants with a sash at the hip. She'd also been wearing red lipstick, but it had disappeared after the three years of death she'd endured... if she endured anything at all.

Her skin was porcelain with rosy cheeks, and kind blue eyes stared back at him. Her blonde hair was curled, but slightly matted at the sides and the back; she didn't look any more dead than when he saw her in the open casket funeral viewing. The hair was really a wig, but it matched her real hair seamlessly. Cancer had taken her too soon. She'd only been forty-two.

She reached out to him with red painted nails, and he stood up to regard her fully. She didn't look older than when she died. But then her features contorted in a ghastly manner. Her skin was suddenly leathery and waxy when before it had been lively, pulling taut across prominent cheekbones. Her eyebrows disappeared and her eyes sunk into her face while her lips curled inward like she was eating them. Her clothes didn't fit right, and there were stains on her clothes where she'd begun to decompose and liquefy.

"Mom?"

She disappeared and only the cab remained in his company. The door was still open, and Jaxon found himself walking towards the door despite every nerve in his body telling him to walk away. Once situated in the leather seat, and enveloped in the scent of cigar, the door closed and the cab slinked into the night.