I'll be waiting [come find me]

Untitled Part 1

"You got a girl waiting for ya or what?"

Guan Shan flinched and looked up from his phone. The old man sitting on a creaky crate grinned at him knowingly over the dirty stub of his cigarette. Feeling like he had been caught, Guan Shan hurried to shove the phone in his pocket.

"Just my ma," he said and drew a deep drag of his cigarette.

The man's grin deepened revealing a row of teeth stained shades of yellow by years of smoking. There was a black gap where one of the teeth was missing. Years ago, the man had lost it in a fight with a cocky guy in a black suit and shining shoes who had thought he could squeeze a few easy bucks off the old man. In the end, he was short of one tooth, but the guy hadn't shown his face since. A story he loved to tell anyone sitting down at the bar for long enough.

"Could've fooled me. Made me think you've got a sweetheart waiting for ya the way ya keep checking that damn thing."

"Well, I don't."

"Nothin' wrong if ya had. A young guy like you should live a little."

Guan Shan huffed.

"I'm too busy working my ass raw for you."

The old man chuckled, but it deepened into a coughing fit that doubled him over and brought tears in his bulging eyes. Guan Shan took a hesitant half step towards where the man was sitting but he was waved off almost crankily. The man managed to draw in a rattling breath, snorted, and spat out something yellow and slimy aiming where the cracked pavement met the concrete base of the bar and a line of green was stubbornly pushing through.

"Damn it," the man said, catching his breath and wrapping his faded winter jacket tighter around his shoulders. "'tis damn weather. Doing me like this."

It was late autumn, and the evenings had grown colder. Earlier in the morning, Guan Shan's boots had stepped on a frozen puddle and the thin ice had cracked satisfyingly. The dawn had smelled like the first snow.

"I'm sure smoking isn't helping."

The man glared at Guan Shan with his dark piercing eyes. The only lively sparks in his weather-beaten, lined face.

"Don't ya start, too, boy. I get enough o' that from the old hag at home."

"Maybe she's right."

"'Course she's right!" the man raised his voice and caught another coughing fit.

This time Guan Shan wasn't shooed away. He gave the man's back a couple of hefty whacks silently grimacing at the way he could almost feel the brittle bones creak under his palm. The second fit was more stubborn to subside and left the man leaning on Guan Shan's hand on his shoulder.

"I's this," he wheezed, "damn weather."

The phone vibrated a couple of times in Guan Shan's pocket. His hand jerked to reach for it but halted when he glanced at the man recovering from hacking up a lung. The man caught his hesitation and straightened himself the best he could.

"Go on, kid," he said. "Don't keep 'er waiting."

Guan Shan frowned down at the man. He didn't like the ashy look on his face, but the phone was burning in his pocket.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then."

The man stubbed out his cigarette on the pavement and tossed it in the already overflowing ashtray made out of an old relish can. With some difficulty, he levered himself on his feet and clasped Guan Shan's shoulder almost painfully.

"Bright 'n early," he said and flashed the yellowish grin before waving his goodnights.

Guan Shan's eyes followed the uneven sway of the man's shoulders caused by his left knee dipping under the weight on every other step until the man disappeared through the backdoor. Apparently, he had hurt his leg while locked in a game of mahjong against a local boss. Like all the old man's stories, Guan Shan had heard this tale countless times, too. But how playing mahjong and hurting his knee were connected had always remained a mystery to him.