Keep your nose clean

                   He watched them laugh. The boy and the girl. Immigrants. Their clothes made them look American but their accents gave them away. How long ago did they land here? Possibly came by boat. No not Mexican, he thought to himself. Paki. Or possibly Indian. He couldn't tell. They all looked the same. How did that matter anyway? In a few hours he would rob them, and then.... He smiled viciously as he thought of the events yet to come. The boy turned to look at him. Could the boy have read his thoughts, he wondered. He had seen animals do that. The boy seemed worried and wary. That wouldn't do. The girl caught the look on her boyfriend's face and followed the boy's gaze. The boy smiled and calmed her down. He took this opportunity to touch her on the shoulder and his hand slipped down a few inches as he took his hand off off his girlfriend. The girl did not seem to object. They continued walking their bicycles. He stopped at a shop and let them get ahead a bit. That seemed to reassure them. The boy had been casually glancing back. They would still remain in his field of view. He had followed them from Prudential Center mall. But that was not how the evening had started for him. In fact he was not a criminal. Had not hurt a fly till today nor thought of it. He had kept his nose clean. always. Just like his pappy had taught him to do. Boston had been a big change for a boy from a little town in Alabama. A town so small that he was sure, he was related to everyone in some way or the other. A small scholarship to one of the two hundred colleges had allowed him to escape his dreary existance. He had never wanted to be a farmer. Although his father thought it was what he should do. Not waste time with fancy degrees. A bachelors was hardly a fancy degree as he had found out on his first date. Another first had happened that night. A rejection. The girl had taken one look at him and turned and walked out. Dungarees were probably not the right choice for a date in Boston. He had learned quickly after that. A few chance findings at thrift stores and trash thrown out by the rich kids in college had helped expand and considerably "upgrade" his wardrobe. His next date, secured after six months, had atleast seated herself before laughing at his plans for the future. She too had left. Although she had had the decency to pretend there was an emergency when the phone rang. He found her cussing him out on the phone when he emerged after paying for them. She was looking for her car keys in that small chic purse she had brought. Gucci. He had read the label. Much too large for the size of the bag. Probably a fake. Everyone in Boston seemed to be pretending to be someone they were not. He too had learned to do so. He hardly spoke about himself on dates after that. Girls seemed to like that a lot. They could speak endlessly. They spoke of trivial things. Parties. Bands. Music concerts. Movies. What did he care about these things? He could barely make rent on his scholarship inspite of sharing his room with three others. He pretended not to notice them and his roommates returned the favor. At nights, frequently after the lights had been turned out, he could hear them grunting softly and then a sigh. Release. An end to their frustration. He could understand it. Men were hunters. That was all they could think of. Raging bags of hormones. And here they were surrounded in the city by their prey. Girls in tight skin hugging clothes, much too small to hide anything. He used to smile. In his hometown, space was never an issue. Neither was finding a willing girl. Here of course things were different. They would  tease endlessly and yet never ...Ah well. He had learned their game well. Soon he achieved success in his extra-curricular activities. So much success that his roommates started acknowledging him and even inviting him out with them. He always politely made excuses for his absence. Hunters learn to hunt alone. He had learned this lesson back home out hunting and soon realised that only his jungle and prey had changed. The methods were transferable. Silence taught him loads, just as they had in the wild. Insecurities were rife. People were so starved of human contact in this densely populated city that it was shocking. College ended and he found himself seeking a job. No longer were exams and classes his problem, replaced as they were with frustration of applying to jobs and not finding any. Always the job seemed a good fit but very few converted to interviews and fewer to further interviews. He soon realised that this degree was not worth the paper it was printed on. He found a cheaper living arrangement. His three former roommates had been replaced with 7 others. The same encounters but different people. Did people really differ that much?

His money had all but run out. Finding odd jobs even at minimum wage was proving hard. He often wondered if he should move back home. He would be a laughing stock but at least he would have a belly full of food and a decent bed at night. Hard work had never bothered him. Dates were out. He could barely feed himself let alone take another out. Plus a depressed mind did not take to listening easily. He chased away a handful of easy targets before he took himself out of the game. Yes he did consider it a game. He had seen the rookie mistakes most of these others made and laughed at them in the past. Not out loud of course. That would be too cruel. Now he saw himself make the same. Karma or something like that class hippie had said, keeps coming back to haunt us. Not that he believed in all this new age non-sense. And just like that his luck had changed. A blonde he had designs on mentioned a job her cousin had been turned down for. He had had the good sense to ask some careful questions and for the first time he found himself leaving a date. This inspite of the bald offer of sex from the same blonde. Some things were too hard to pass up on. The recruiter was an old classmate that he had helped out in a moment of pity. A complete nerd who had no shot with the redheaded girl he wanted to go out with. That was until he had worked his magic and made it happen. A few months ago, he had received an invitation to their wedding. Their kids better not get his looks or her brains, he had chuckled. There would be no hope for them then. He dug up his old class directory and tracked down his classmate. He had to call in his favor but it was worth it. He managed to get the job. He had lasted six years at the job. A janitor. He cleaned after students in classes where at one time he himself had been a student. He smiled at the irony and the workings of fate. He saw behind their false smiles and wondered if they knew they had not future. He was quite sure none of them recognised him or knew of his time here. Keep your nose clean. That was what his father had taught him and he did just that. Kept to himself. He had a bit of spending money now and started dating again. During the day he was a lowly janitor but at night he came into his own. A prince of the nights. Life went on like that for a few years. Eight to be exact. And then overnight things changed. Recession hit. Some fool on Wall Street had goofed up in their greed and pushed the market to the limits. People were slowly let go. Clean toilets would still be needed and so he retained his job. Then Mike was let go. That shocked him out of his complacency. Just a bit. Mike had been a janitor too. He had joined a few months ago. The workload increased. He did not mind. Jake who complained was asked to leave too. Keep your nose clean. He went about his job as usual. Only now he checked in two hours earlier and left an hour later. The pay of course was not increased to reflect the changed working hours.

He still remembered the day clearly. He had already cleaned most of the third floor and was working his way down to the second floor lecture rooms, when he saw his friend emerge with a moving box. The same fellow who had recruited him. He rushed over to help him. His friend looked sad. In the ten minutes it took them to walk to his friend's car in the parking lot, he heard of the things to come. After his friend had pulled away from the parking lot, he gazed up at the buildings that had been home to him for a little over a decade now. He wondered when he would be asked to leave. He didnt have to wait long to find out. His supervisor was waiting for him by his cleaning trolley when he re-entered the building with an exasperated look on his face. He asked him to report to his office after putting the trolley back in its space. He meekly complied. In his supervisor's office, he got what he was sure the same spiel his nerdy friend had received. Budget cuts. Things were going worse. More redundancies were inevitable. He could finish the day but at the end of the day, he needed to hand in his badge, clear out his locker of all personal belongings and collect his severance packet from payroll the next morning. He tried to protest, but his supervisor raised his hand. There would be no discussion. He asked him to send Bill in when he saw him. He nodded and left the office. As he finished his rounds for the day, he wondered how he would come up with the rent for next month. He had just bought a second hand car three months ago. He wondered if he could sell the old Mustang. It was pretty beat up but worked quite well. A few weeks of labour had her looking just like new. Well as close to new as possible. He had named her Molly after a girl he had once gone out with. He had probably loved her too. Too bad she had decided to marry Will instead. As he reflected on this, he realised that was probably the reason he had decided to leave his home and come here. Ah well. Another Molly was leaving him. Perhaps it had been a bad idea to name the car, Molly. She was a jinx. He changed out of his coveralls and cleaned out his locker. As he played with his badge, he decided not to hand it in. He doubted his boss would care. The guy was too busy saving his own skin to care. He did not look back as he walked out. His friend had stood there for a few minutes and looked askance at the buildings they had spent so many years in. He had no such sentiments to express.
He zoomed off in his car a little faster than he had intended to but it felt good. A week later, he sold the car for half the price he had paid for it. As he watched the new owner drive away at speeds much faster than he had driven Molly, he felt a twinge of pain, albeit briefly. He went back to his apartment and packed his meager belongings in a small rucksack. Luckily, he had run into the same blonde again at the bar the same night that he had been sacked. She had put on a few pounds but still looked nice. They chatted and he had ended up spending the night at her place. Next morning, she asked him to move in. He was a bit surprised and started to protest, but she explained logically that he needed to save money while looking for a job. A few drinks had loosened his tongue it seemed. Well he could not fault her logic and decided to move in at the end of the month. A week later he found himself, sans car, and ringing the doorbell to her little condo. Her parents had died a few years ago and their life insurance money had helped her buy a couple of condos- most of which she rented out. Not a bad set up, he smiled. She was nice but a bit of a nag. She reminded him on his second night that he needed to go pick up his severence packet and could borrow her Miata if he wanted to. He nodded. The very next morning he took the bus to the payroll offices. As he collected his money, he spied an old Indian man come in and collect money from the other counter. He would not have thought much of it had he not seen him wearing his old coveralls. They had not changed the name tag. So they had replaced him with someone else. They had not even bothered to outsource his job. The fellow was paid in cash. No paper trial. So that was why they had fired him and hired the old man. A rage boiled up inside him and followed the man out. The old man slowly walked out. He had a limp of some sort that slowed his progress. The old did not go to the parking lot but instead to the road and waited at the bus stop for the bus that would come an hour later, he knew from his years here. The rage dissipated. He had wanted to hurt the old man but now...He punched a nearby tree and the punch caused him more pain than he had anticipated. The old man had glanced at him when he had yelled out in pain. He nursed his hand and slowly walked to the bus stop. He sat down on the small bench to wait. What other options did he have? The old man pulled out a small scarf and held it out gingerly. He nodded. His left hand had already started to swell. Probably a fracture. He did not have insurance so he would have to fix this himself. He gratefully accepted the gentle admonishment from the older Indian man as he helped bind his hand. He thanked the old man who brushed his thanks aside with a wave of his hand. The old man also handed him an Advil that helped slightly with the pain. The hour passed quite quickly and when the bus pulled up the old man wished him a quick recovery as he climbed on the bus. He waited there and watched the bus pull away before realising that he needed to be on it. The next bus would not be there for another hour and a half now. It was an hour back into town. No matter. He might as well walk. He could get a lift perhaps, although, he had very low hopes of that based on past experience and the time. It was past six now.
As he started walking dejectedly, he massaged his hand as best as he could. The Advil and the bandage had helped. He wondered about what he would do. What he could do. His degree was useless as he had realised years ago. Maybe he could get a job flipping burgers. Even those jobs demanded experience these days. As he ran through his options, it started to pour. New England weather is so capricious. It was not possible to stay dry or take shelter anywhere. Who knew how long it would continue to rain? He just continued walking. Better to get home sooner than later and change into some dry clothes. He cursed his luck all the way home. Should have borrowed the car.
An hour later when he entered the house, she was there waiting for him. She scolded him for not calling and walking home in this weather. All the rage that had been boiling up inside him an hour earlier came out in one explosion. He struck her. Hard. And felt his hand scream with pain. He had forgotten about his hand. He pushed past her and went to bathroom. He remembered that she had some painkillers there. Only Advil. He took three of them and walked back out to face an angry woman. She needed time to cool off and so did he. He ignored her questions and walked back out in the rain.

     Boston is such a quaint old town. He did not mind walking in the rain lost in his thoughts and cursing his fate. He wandered aimlessly for hours. At some point, exhausted from his exertions, he sat down on a bench at some bus stop. The bus arrived and as he climbed on, he searched for his wallet. Only then did he realise that he did not have enough money on his card. He got off ignoring the caustic remarks and the exasperated look from the driver. Another Indian or Paki. Damn foreigners. They were taking over everywhere. When did America become so...so non-American. Something needed to be done about these foreigners. They should be deported and prevented from taking over like this. He wanted to hit something. Anything. Just a few punches. Life had dealt him such a horrible hand. He wanted to ...thats when he first noticed them. The two of them. Walking hand in hand. Clearly not American. She wore one of those weird things that he had seen terrorists wear in news snippets. Only flashier and much more clingy. Showed off her curves and the deep cut at the top showed off much more. The boy could barely keep his eyes off. He didnt know what came over him. He found himself getting up and following them. These foreigners needed to be taught a lesson. Get tough with them and they would leave. America had grown soft. He would show them. One foreigner at a time. If it took him the rest of his life so be it.
            They were out on a date by the looks of it. Early on in their relationship but this was not their first date. The girl walked quite close to the boy. The cycles away from them rather than between them. Some barriers had been overcome. Good move, boy. He chuckled at the thought. They were not holding hands yet so they were not that close. Although the boy would casually let his hand brush against hers and she did not seem to object. Testing waters. He remembered how he himself had done that at one time. Each touch like an electric current surging through his nervous system. A hope lit like no other in his mind. Ah to be in love and young again. They walked slowly. Meandering would be more accurate. As far he could see the boy and the girl were in no hurry to get anywhere. Probably going home after a date. That was good. He would not have to wait for them. The road was quite dark. Boston, although an ancient city, did not have a very good street light system in most parts. Well it did but what they had was insufficient for any purpose. For once, he was thankful. He blended easily into the darkness and was able to follow them inconspicuously. He could hear their jilted conversation. Meaningless small talk. Just an excuse to stay out for a bit longer and share each other's company. He wondered why they just did not go to one of their apartments. Probably roommates.