Chapter 8

Five hours later…

Old Frank, the town drunk, staggered along the road, swaying like a small tree caught in a thunderstorm. He paused after every few steps, not because he wanted to stay in sync with the teasing songs from the three children a few metres behind him, pointing and laughing, but because he had to catch his balance. Every pause seemed to excite the kids uncontrollably, causing them to continue their chants louder after each resume. The midday sun bore down hard, bringing him agony. He wished to hurry out of it. Hurrying in his case meant swaying faster and bringing more glee to his tormenting entourage. The sun went away suddenly, as was usual in Mida, buying him precious moments of peace. It did not last. Moments later the skies opened to let down the rains. The group of children scattered to find shelter, leaving Frank alone in the rain, unable to move out of the sudden downpour fast enough. He attempted a run, after two steps of which he felt himself falling. Before he could bring himself to shout for help, he felt strong arms breaking his fall and helping him back to his feet in one motion, and then his saviour jostled him quickly over to a bus stop. “T-Thank you," Frank crumbled down unto the bench, drained and exhausted.

The rain continued vigorously, bearing down heavily on the rooftops as Frank lay collapsed from a combination of drunkenness and fatigue on the bench. Lightning flashed intermittently between the rain, igniting the skies with a heavenly glow which seemed to dare anyone bold enough to step out into in for a photoshoot. After a half hour the rain slowed to a steady drizzle. Heads poked out from under umbrellas, eager to get back to duties the rain had stopped them from. Among those was the head of Frank’s saviour, the only other occupant of the bus stop. He reached out his palm away from the roof of the bus stop and held it steady, checking to see if it was safe to emerge. After deciding it wasn’t, he went to sit back down, shaking off the water in his palm as he did so.

“It will probably stay like this for a while longer," Frank startled the kind stranger beside him, who was unaware Frank had awakened, and that he had sat up and was observing him.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, young man”

“It’s fine.”

“I’m guessing you’re the reason I’m dry away from the rain and not crumpled out on the street?” Frank asked.

The stranger nodded in affirmation.

Frank studied the person in front of for a few moments before speaking. “That look on your face, you’re surprised I speak well I take it”

“Err…”

“It’s fine, it’s fine," Frank waved a hand. He turned to face the rain and watched it intensify again as it picked up where it left off, driving the few brave enough to venture out back inside.

The two strangers sat in silence and observed as the rain poured down. Minutes passed and the silence grew between them. Each man stared off into the rain, each lost in his own thoughts, each face locked in a single look, while their brains wandered, roaming over years of memories which slowly dance into focus, as if enchanted by the call of the rain.

“I suppose I have to thank you for helping me," Frank shifted his gaze back unto the stranger.

“You don’t have to," he replied, his head unmoved.

“I wasn’t always like this you know” Frank spoke solemnly – he succumbed to the charm of the rain and dug deep down into his memories. He felt the excitement and hope from when he was younger come rising up to embrace him. He was gripped with sudden melancholy, and pondered what could have been as the rain increased in tempo and bounced off the ground faster, a few feet away. He raised his tone so his partner could hear his next words.

“I was just like you once,” he scanned the boy next to him with reddened eyes, “Well, except for the big afro you have there, I was pretty much the same—young and hopeful.”

The stranger next to him peeled his eyes from the rain to look over at him, his blank look betrayed no emotion.

“Not big on the words eh?” Frank fished through his pockets for the lighter and half cigarette he knew were there. The stranger looked on as Frank lit the cigarette and brought it to his lips, the experience etched into his every move.

“You know those will kill you?” he said, after Frank took a long drag.

“Well, well, the totem pole talks," Frank coughed, letting out the smoke through his nostrils.

“Something has to be the death of you kid," he smiled. “And when you have lived as long as I have, you’d like to take certain matters into your own hands.”

“Suicide by smoking? I’ve never heard of that”

“Live and learn kid, every day is a new experience.” Frank gestured upwards with his cigarette, smiling as he did so. He shifted his arm on the bench to relax better and hit a poly bag rested between them. It flew unto the floor, spilling its contents out into the open. The stranger threw Frank a confounded look as he sprang off the bench to gather his stuff.

“It’s alright I’ll take care of it” he said, when Frank moved to help. The bag was up on the bench again in no time, this time on the other side away from the threat that was Frank. The boy checked the contents of the bag while Frank sat, puffing out the last of his little cigarette.

“Excuse me, is this yours?” asked a feminine voice, startling the occupants of the bench into looking up. What they saw was the upset face of an attractive woman, her brows squeezed together in displeasure, looking down at them. Her eyes darted between the faces on the bench, confused at why none had replied her question. She shook the medicine bottle she held in her outstretched hand to bring both men back to their minds and saw them both glance towards it for the first time, their collective gaze finally leaving her face.

The younger one reached to collect it, “That’s mine, sorry."

She looked down to read the label on the bottle and paused ever so faintly, before handing over the bottle.

“Thank you," the owner said, placing it into a labelled ‘N.A.G Pharmacy’ polybag among other bottles. Her gaze lingered on the contents of the polybag the bottle went into for an instant, then she waved her hand to say it was nothing and turned around to raise her umbrella back to cover her head. In an instant, she was gone, walking out of their lives as promptly as she arrived.

Frank eyed the boy next to him, “Quite a number of bottles in there, kid. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine” came the response as the boy turned his head to look back into the rain, which was slowing down gradually.

“Good enough for me” Frank shrugged and stretched himself out on the bench again. His cigarette was finished and the rain wasn’t letting up. He had time to spare another nap.

Half an hour later the rain was clearing up, and people slowly drifted out into the open. The boy beside Frank took one last look at him sleeping peacefully, then reached and slipped a wad of notes into Frank’s front pocket, leaving it so it could be discovered. He picked up his bag and left the bus stop, never looking back.