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His wristwatch said 9:47, an ever-present reminder that he needed a new battery. Looking at the clock on the wall, Manoel knew he was going to be home late for dinner.

It had now been forty minutes since he clocked out. Delores’ husband was on disability. Her kids were in trouble at school. And – well, she just didn’t have her head in the game these days. Manoel stayed and offered to help her catch up. Delores was glad for the help and really appreciated the company.

“Thanks for listening, Manny. Say ‘Hi’ to that little angel of yours for me.”

“I will. You take care, Delores. See you in the morning.”

As much as he hated to do it, Manoel decided not to change out of his work clothes. The 5:30 train back into the city would be long gone, but the 5:45 was still a possibility. He made it in record time. The station was quiet. His farecard went through on the second try. Life was good.

Manoel sank into an empty seat and observed with a smile that he was swimming upstream. Just like one of those fish, he thought. What are they? Salmon. That’s it, salmon. The other night, he and his daughter were watching the Fish Channel (or, whatever it was), and Manoel felt compassion for those single-minded creatures. That was often how he felt; morning and evening, making his way in and out against a living current of people who worked where he lived and lived where he worked. Am I going the wrong way? He sometimes wondered.

He was tired. He would have to pay the babysitter extra. And, all he wanted to do was get home.

“Would you look at that!” Someone exclaimed over Manoel’s shoulder. A natural boundary between the city and outlying suburbs was the river. The trains ran aboveground before plunging beneath it into a vast network of tunnels, stops and transfer centers. Down on the water, the setting sun dissolved into fluid banners of magenta, peach and violet reaching out to break the fall of night. Seagulls chased their angled shadows across the decks of fishing boats.

Then, darkness.

It takes your eyes awhile to adjust to the flicker and the clatter and the velocity of travelling underground. Manoel turned to thank the passenger who had called attention to the beautiful scene outside, but found the man asleep. Rough day, huh? He pulled on his headphones and took some rest himself.

“Szccchnxtshtp Szchhouldlzy Scchhparchhh!”

Manoel knew that the toneless burst of white noise from the PA system was another marker on the journey home. Gathering his backpack and raising himself to his feet, Manoel gently shook the sleeping man’s shoulder.

“Don’t miss your stop.” As the doors closed behind Manoel, the risen sleeper was still yawning and rubbing his eyes.

The station emptied out onto the street through a vast opening lined with lights, escalators and an almost vertical flight of stairs. There was often some goofball who would make a show out of trying to go up the escalators down. And, Manoel would smile. Then there were those who felt things weren’t moving fast enough and shoved past rudely on the left. Maybe they will get where they're going a little sooner. Who knows? Maybe they're just that much more lost.

What struck Manoel as he waited at the crosswalk was the new billboard; one of those big digital signs that could flip through a half-dozen ads twice in under a minute. Proof in thousand watt living color that his teeth weren’t white enough, the car he couldn’t afford to fill up with gas was unsafe, and fermented beverages would somehow make him more attractive to – everybody. Manoel wondered what happens to the guys whose job it was to change the old signs. The light turned and Manoel headed east. Ten blocks to go.

“Hey buddy. You got five dollars?” At first, Manoel couldn’t make out who said this. A hollow man stood silhouetted against the brightly lit entrance to a liquor store. He noticed Manoel reach into his front pocket and lurched forward.

“Five dollars? What do you need five dollars for?” Manoel asked.

“A ticket.”

“Where you going?” Manoel pulled out a five, but held onto it.

“Where do you think I’m going? Look, you going to give me some money, or not?”

“Yeah, I’ve got you. But, let me buy you something to eat with it.” There was a take-out several doors down. “They’ve got really good spring rolls. What do you say?”

“I say, ‘If I can’t do with it what I want, then you ain’t really giving it to me.’ Are you?”

Ten minutes, six blocks, and a few steps later, Manoel balanced a carryout order on his hip while digging for the keys to his apartment. The plan was to give the babysitter an extra five, some vegetable lo mein, and a couple spring rolls. They were really good spring rolls.

“Daddy!” His daughter’s voice rang out as she threw her arms around him. “You’re home!”

“Hey, Gabriela.” Manoel set the food down inside the door and picked her up. “Yes, I am. Say, are you ladies hungry?”


“Look for the Messiah where you will, but you’ll find him where you live.”
~Ann Weems