Tugboat DeVito

The doorbell chimed when he walked in, and before long Roman was pointing out a pack of Marlboro Smooths tucked behind a locked shelf to a tired and disinterest cashier. She pulled them out from behind the glass and plopped them on the counter before hitting them with her scan gun. “$13.84” popped up on the monitor. Roman, who had only brought seven dollars in cash with him, sighed and opened his wallet for his card and ID.

He stashed the pack in his center console before glancing over at the time on his dashboard: 2:15 AM. He checked the pockets of his jumpsuit before leaving to make sure that he still had is lighter: A tiny, white Bic, scorched on each side by tiny cigarette sized circles. When he found it, he started the ignition and grabbed a can of Coors from under the passenger seat.

He frequented a spot along the walk path by the river. He found that after midnight there was no one there who would give him dirty looks on account of his dark skin and broad frame. No one crossed the street to avoid him because they found his face to be intimidating, or his demeanor to be menacing. He was free to enjoy the cool night breeze in his hair, although recently his locs had become too matted and heavy to dance in the wind as they used to.

He had his choice parking spots as there wasn’t a lot of competition this late in the night. Still, he preferred to park in the far side corner; it made it so the walk back took more time at the end of the night. He had picked up that habit when he was twenty-six, he would soon be twenty-eight.

He tucked the Marlboros into his shirt pocket and checked his phone for an update from the hospital. When he found nothing, he instead connected a pair of old, rotted headphones and began listening to A Tribe Called Quest. He tapped his fingers along the railing and thought about how many nights he and Ramiro had spent listening to “Can I Kick It?” through his old busted up speakers.

He bobbed his head to the music, bouncing up and down like a ship riding along the waves. About a mile up the river, the tugboat “DeVito” was making it’s usually trip out to the harbor, pulling a large trash barge at least three or four times it’s size behind it. Roman felt a kinship with this little vessel. During the day he and Ramiro worked for a garbage collection agency, so this was like seeing the final culmination of all his day’s efforts. But mostly, he admired it’s ability to flow with the current. The current was safe and reliable, to resist it would be reckless and unnecessary.

On the other side of the river were the mesmerizing lights of the New Port City and mesmerizing, black silhouette of it’s skyline. On this side of the water however, was a series of street lamps placed every few paces that served only to diminish that spectacular view. Fortunately, Roman had found a spot where the lamp didn’t work, it flickered on occasion, but for the most part never lit up. For the most part however, it was too far out of the way for the town to notice or care. Roman noted that at it’s current pace, DeVito would reach that spot in around twenty minutes. He only needed to go a few more paces.

When he arrived, he did not rest his arms along the railing in the way he usually would. He did not pull a cigarette from the pack, nor did he make any attempt to dig around his pockets for the lighter. There was a girl there, maybe fifteen or so, with a heavy pack that rested on the ground next to her. She sported boxer braids and sat atop the railing in the place he usually stopped. Her flannel shirt blew in the wind and she stared across the water, toward the city. Her only response to his approach was a passing glance and a raised eyebrow.

He approached with heavy steps and cleared his throat to ensure that she noticed him. In any sane world someone in her position would be compelled to flee, or at the very least so he thought. Instead she watched him out of the corner of her eye and only spoke up when she noticed him reaching into his pockets.

“I’ll pepper spray you.” She exclaimed, watching him from the corner of her eyes. “I’m not joking.”

He looked over to her and kissed his teeth. He pulled a cigarette from the pack and held it in his mouth while he reached for a lighter. The wind was harsh and even as he tried to block it with his hand, he was unable to sustain a flame.

“Did you need help with that?” She asked, in a less aggressive tone.

He recognized her the bags under her eyes, the downward curve of her face and nodded. She held her hands over the lighter and waited for him to get the cigarette burning. He wondered what had happened to her to make her so desensitized to the potential danger, but more so what had happened to produce that sad look he had become so acquainted with in his life.

Roman took a deep and heavy breath, and released a heavy plume of white smoke to the wind and muttered in a low, rough tone “Thanks.”

It was now eighteen minutes until DeVito would cross by this spot, and this girl did not show signs of leaving any time soon. Still, he wanted that moment to himself as he couldn’t bear to take another hit while she stood there next to him.

“What’s your name?” he asked, twirling the cigarette between his fingers and focusing on the creeping fire.

“Jacqueline.” 

“Mmm. I’m Roman, nice to meet you.”

“Cool. Roman. Do you have any more of those?”

He offered her the one he was holding on to. It would have been a waste to light another, and so involved as well. She took it with a bit of hesitation that quickly gave way to a false bravado; but when the heavy smoke hit her lungs she couldn’t stop herself from breaking into a coughing fit. Then, after a desperate bit of recovery and tears welling in her eyes, all she had to say on the matter was “cool.”

“That’s a menthol. Ha. They’re the nicer ones.” He pulled the pack fully from his pocket and quickly scanned over the label. He wondered how long ago they had stopped putting “SMOKING KILLS” on the front of the box, and how he hadn’t noticed it was missing until just now. Before he could finish the thought however, his eyes were drawn to a peculiar sight.

There was a small paddle boat on the other side of the river, moving upstream rather than down. Roman could faintly hear the loud shouts of its operator, which only grew louder as it came closer. “The effort that must take.” Roman thought to himself, before refocusing on his current situation.

“So, it’s 2am on a Wednesday morning - you running away from home or something?”

She took another hit from the cigarette and did not respond. This time, stopping herself from coughing.

“Listen, I’m not the type to call child services or nothing, but you should know it’s not exactly safe for girls your age out here. Don’t you watch the news?” He took a deep breath and glanced across the water, then over to her “Your Dad hit you or something?”

Her shoulders stiffened and her eyes narrowed, dragging down her brow and she let out a puff of smoke. “I don’t want to talk about it. Do you mind if I have another one?”

He obliged and handed her another, the she flicked the remainder of the first one out into the water.

“That’s the last one.” He stated plainly. “Don’t make a habit of these, they’ll only make your problems worse.”

“Then why do you have them?” she asked, beckoning him to help her with the lighter.

Roman sighed, and said in a soft, earnest voice “I don’t know. Force of habit I guess.” He sighed, and began to chuckle “A few more years and my teeth’ll turn yellow, you don’t want that do you?”

She rolled her eyes and went back to her smoking. Roman turned his gaze to DeVito, taking note of in sluggish speed. He wondered if that sort of boat was simply designed to move that slowly or if it would feel more free if it became unmoored by the garbage it was carrying. He decided it wasn’t worth thinking about.

“I’m gonna go live in the city,” Jacqueline uttered “I’m gonna get one of those forms that lets kids live without their parents and In the morning I’m gonna take the bus across the bridge.”

“Hmph. Where are you gonna live?”

“I don’t know. There’s probably a shelter or something I can stay in until I find a job and pay for my own place.”

She pulled a number of crumpled bills from her pocket. “I stole a bunch of money from my Mom’s purse to buy groceries. I think I’ll be good for a few months at least.” 

Roman looked at the wads of cash in her hand, and then back to the girl herself. In one sudden motion he snatched the money from her with one hand. When she tried to fight back, he held both her arms with the other. “Now what?” He asked, montoned and unimpressed.

She thrashed about and tried to headbutt him. She screamed, but there was no one around to respond. She looked him cold in the eyes tried to spit on him, when that failed she reeled back her leg to launch a devastatingly aimed kick. IT was at this point that he let her go and returned the money to her.

“I’ll give it to you that you got fight. But the city isn’t all that great a place. They won’t give you the money back, and you’d be lucky if that’s all they want. Can I tell you a story?”

“Fuck you.”

“Fair enough. Still, I think it’s important that you hear this.” He looked to the skyline. “About two years ago or so me and a friend of mine got an apartment over there. It was in one of the shitty complexes on the south end, real bad place. One night we were walking back from a shift and he decided to duck into an alley to take a leak. A few seconds later this guy comes running out with a bloody piece of glass and starts chasing after me, so I sprint down the block until he gives up and fucks off. A few minutes later I go back to look for Ramiro because I haven’t seen him in a minute. Turns out he’s just there lying in the alleyway, bleeding out from where the dude stabbed him.”

She didn’t respond, but he could tell she was hanging on to every word. She shoulders relaxed, and she stepped back a bit. “What happened to him?” she asked.

“Well, we managed to get him to a hospital, so he was fine. But it still messes with him. He had to go in for surgery the other day because he’s still gets muscle spasms sometimes.” His eyes began to water a bit.

Jacqueline hung her head low and stared up at him. “Damn. I’m sorry that happened.”

“You’re good” He responded, and stood up straight. “I just don’t want to see another missing kid on the news.” He resigned himself with a sigh, and reached into his pocket to pull out a cigarette for himself, but failed in getting it lit.

“I mean… You could learn how to fight.” She remarked, laughing to herself. And though she meant it mainly as a joke, the words struck a chord with Roman. And he looked at her with a bit of confusion. In all those days since the incident, not once had the idea of fighting back crossed his mind. And looking back over the river, he could hear the man in the paddleboat laughing heartily into the night much more loudly than before.

As he basked in his epiphany, Jacqueline thought it best to enact revenge for his previous transgression and wound up for the kick she had cancelled on earlier. And just swiftly as he had stolen her money did she quickly and did she launch a kick to his groin. On impulse he was able to block most of the impact with his hands, but a sharp and sudden pain wracked through his body all the same.

“I can’t understand how you do this so often.” Ramiro offered his patented bit of uninvited critique. “This is boring.”

“I like boats.” Roman responded with a shrug, “Look. I call that one DeVito.”

“Like Danny DeVito?” He watched the little tugboat dragging the mountain of garbage behind it. “Oh! Because he’s the Trashman!”

“Exactly.” 

“That’s good. But no, I meant this.” He held out the cigarette Roman had offered him earlier and tossed it into the river unfinished. “I hate how it feels on my teeth. Also, it says ‘Smoking Kills’ on the box bro. You’re gonna get lung cancer.”

“I told you this is what I was gonna do, you didn’t have to come.”

“Whatever dawg, I’m not trying to argue. But we gotta get over there bro. I’m sick of just looking at it.”

Roman had seen the news. There were any number of things that could happen if the two of them were to venture out into the city. It was better to watch from a safe distance. And in the absence of other stimulation, he had taken up smoking as a way to fill out time. He would get there eventually, but for now, he watched as DeVito drifted out of the river channel and into the larger bay outside of the city, and he offered Ramiro no response. 

Roman writhed on the ground for a brief moment. When he stood up, he saw that Jacqueline’s face had become lit up with pride. Despite her size, she had proven that she could topple him and though she was unable to keep him down, this small victory was enough to satisfy her for now.

“I think I’m gonna go home.” She stated, trying and failing to hide a smile. 

“Fantastic. I’ll call you an Uber.” Roman replied, trying and failing to hide his agony. 

It was now two minutes before DeVito would cross by where the two had been loitering. In that same time the man on the paddle boat had worked his way to that spot as well. Before long, the two boats would pass each other, and continue on their way in separate directions.

Roman opened his cigarette box, and found that most of its content had been bent or broken. He was holding onto it when Jackie kicked him, and has accidentally used them as a shield. Digging around, he found one that had remained mostly intact and pocketed the rest to be disposed on later.

Soon thereafter Jacqueline’s ride arrived and the two parted ways. He recommended she join an afterschool program or something that would keep her out of the house. It wasn’t long before she’d be able to move away for school, it wasn’t worth risking her health and safety in the meantime. She thanked him for the advice and left, but not be confirming that it was indeed the right car. 

With that, Roman’s spot was empty and the street light crackled as he pulled out the one good cigarette he had left. He took up his usual spot along the railing and rejoiced in the fact that the wind had finally calmed down. DeVito’s guiding light slowly moved passed him, as he had waited for the entire night; but in that moment, his attention was drawn fully to the paddleboat. It honked its horn and battled against the current in such an ridiculous and laborious fashion. But in so doing, it had crossed more distance going against current that DeVito had going with it. 

As the two boats passed each other, Roman twirled his last cigarette between his fingers. Then, suddenly, the street lamp burst to life and shined spectacularly into the night for the first time in years. He snapped the cig in half and decided to call it a night.