TROUBL

     Like the other day, Sky dumped herself. Cars moved over lake-like puddles, creating Red Sea-like walls on concrete. Homeless felines and dogs scampered for any dry soil–house bellies, boxes of cardboard, filth cans, or a long rested car. House roofs were soggy, walls changed to sponges, and porches transformed into wooden ponds.
     Although inside, Jacob and Rip were bundled. They saw breath clouds when they talked, evaporating into loud pings of drip that settled above. Jacob redid his black knit cap, quickly rushing his palms back within his coat’s pocket. “Damn.”
     “I kno’,” Rip agreed while Jacob took out a cigar. “Dude,” Rip looked at his friend.
     “What?”
     “Come on. The doors closed. I ain’t tryin’ to breathe that shit.”
     “Put the windows down.”
     “It’s rainin’.”
     “So what?”
     “You a dummy. We gon’ get wet.”
     “A little drop of water ain’t gon’ hurt. Plus,” Jacob sparked his black and mild, “you stand anyway.” The two laughed.
     “Man…”Rip uttered as he bent his neck over the slope of the backseat.
     “What?”
     “Nothin’.”
     “Stop sayin’ that shit if you ain’t gon’ say nothing,” Jacob exhaled with agitation.
     “I was thinkin’ about somethin’.”
     “Well, don’t tell me.” A knock pressed against the window. Vaguely making out the image, Jacob put his eye closer. He circled his hands on the glass, dismissing fogginess. He lowered the window, “Yeah.”
     “Got tha’?”
     “Here,” Jacob reached to his right. He slipped two things through the crack while crumbled paper was given to him. “Come on,” he said in complaint. “Tol’ you about this.”
     “I, I, I know,” the image stuttered, “I’ll bring it nex’ time.”
     “A’ight,” Jacob rolled the window upward. He ironed the paper with his knee and hand, and then folded it with the rest of his stack.
     “She ain’t given shit,” Rip spoke to the hood.
     “I kno’,” Jacob agreed.
     “I don’ see why you mess wit’ her.”
     “Some better than none,” Jacob said as he tapped his pocket. On his box’s last cigar, he assessed his paper. Mean winds made the car sway and his hand shiver. Outside his window, trees staggered in the air and Sky’s drops had lightened. “Dude,” Rip pointed at the approaching group of women.
     Without looking from his task, Jacob replied, “Yeah?”
     Hoods were drooping over two of them. And the other’s hat limped over her face like a veil. Intense conversation traveled among them, disregarding water circles that their feet encountered. “Damn,” he spoke under breath.
     “C, C, Can I ge’ some?”
     “How much you got?”
     The group searched one another for an answer as if his question was complicated. Looking at the ground, she answered, “I, I got it.”
     “Let me see,” Jacob ordered.
     In caution, she unzipped her ragged, purple coat. A radio with snagged wire came to Jacob’s eye. He lowered the window further, and it was put in his hands. “Wha’ you think?” he asked Rip.
     Rip analyzed it from every angle, paying attention to its maker’s label. “It’s a’ight.”
Generously, Jacob turned over two. They roamed off, nearly floating atop the water from their feet speed. “You should’ve kep’ one,” Rip said. He passed Jacob the radio.
     “It’s good.”
     “No it ain’t. She owe you.”
     Jacob went hush. “Yeah, you right. But…”
     “I would’ve never did tha’.”
     “You ain’t me.”
     “Hell no.”
     The two posted. Jacob’s eyes flirted with sleep, rocking to rest with the reoccurring rainfall. An alert Jackson steadied himself with the hurry of the wind and the steady drop of the sun behind artificial horizons, summits of buildings that lined the streets. Umbrellas turned inside out. And windshield wipers hurried to blaze trails for those behind wheels. “Dude,” Rip said while passively adding drips of water.                ”Dude…Jacob?”
     “I’m not sleep,” he said as a matter-of-fact. He rubbed his fingers against his eyes. He pulled himself awake.
     “I saw Dug the other day.”
     “Where?”
     “At the corner store.”
     “Wha’ he talkin’ ’bout?”
     “Nothin’ really.” At last going, the sun cast a dimmer shade. An almost entire moon began lifting, and street lamps began to liven.
     “Nothin’ really?” Jacob responded to his friend’s declining tone.
     “He said want t’ see me.”
     “‘Bout what?”
     “Don’ know.”
     “You don’t kno? He ain’t gon’ say that for no reason.” Concerned, “Wha’ you do?” Jacob asked.
     “Damn,” Rip returned defensively. “Why I got to do somethin’?’
     “‘Cause he ain’t gon’ say that shit for no reason.”
     “Dude,” placing his attention at a lonely bottle aglow outside, “I didn’ do nothin’.”

     Pulling over a thick stream that was moving alongside the sidewalk, Maurice set his car. He gathered a paper bag and his box of tools after raising the emergency brake. He unlocked the door. He overlooked the width of a huge puddle spanning an entire car length. He walked through it and scaled the porch steps. An uneasy closing came with the screen door when the wind’s arms got to it. The television was on. Kitchen’s light was lit, and a heated breeze flowed within it. Normal chatters came from no bodies, only commercials and warmed the air. He moved to turn them off, denying the carpet dryness with each step.
     In his room, he sat his toolbox next to his side of the closet. Pulling feet from his boots, a dank linen smell went into his nostrils; his socks were dewy and mixed in work sweat. He twisted his bottle top. After the neck was gone, Maurice rounded the bed. Socks, underwear, and t-shirts were in the dresser that dressed the closest wall to his bed side. He left the dresser one-quarter open and took his body to the bathroom.
     Sitting his under clothing atop the toilet, he slid the shower curtain back and rotated the lever. He tested the temperature, sticking his hand out. He cradled his bottled in the freest one. Maurice perched on the bathtub’s nape, drinking. A towel was missing by the clothing stack. Maurice left to get one, returning with a huge body cloth. He made the lock lock behind him. He lifted the toilet seat and relieved himself before getting under falling water.
     Feeling the lukewarm inside, Jason gave his wet hands to the thermostat on the wall. Heat was set like a summer day, causing the heater to tick before flaring up. He dropped his bag on his room floor, took away things that were on his feet, and hung his soaked overcoat on the bed post. He knocked on the bathroom door. He bothered with the knob, rotating and pushing at once. He knocked heavier, “Yeah,” Maurice’s voice echoed through the steam filled room.
     “I got t’ use it.”
     With water dripping on the floor, Maurice motioned towards the door. He unlocked it and turned back into his shower. He took his bottle into his hands and put its bottom onto the area behind him. He slid the shower curtain closed. “Come on.” Jason went over the toilet bowl. “Where you comin’ from?” Maurice asked.
     “Jessy’s.”
     “Has Jacob been home?’
     “I don’ kno’.”
     Maurice breathed a heavy breath. “Ev’rything was on when I came in.” The toilet flushed. “And nobody was here.”
     “I don’t kno’, maybe he did come home,” Jason spoke while he bathed his hands.
     “Ya’ll didn’ go t’ school together?”
     “Yeah.”
     “And you don’t kno’ where he at?”
     “Jus’ ’cause we lef’ together, don’t mean I kno’ where he is now.” Steam released as Jason closed the door.

     Time after the evening became smooth. Making a suitable seat, Jacob smeared wetness off the car trunk. His hands got drops on them, and he took them against his pant material. Rip leaned the siding by the flattened wheels, absorbing old rain with his jeans. In the street, he noticed a familiar face; he threw a peace symbol.
     “That was Mike?” asked Jacob, going into his pockets.
     “No.”
     “Wasn’t that his car?”
     “Yeah,” Rip peeked down at the darkened spot on his jeans, “but his brother be drivin’ it too.”
     “Who? Little Greg?”
     Rip shook his head. “No, the other one,” he collected his memory, “Grill.”
     “His teeth gon’ rot,” Jacob released smoke. Smiles parted between the two, lasting far beyond the moment.
     As it moved up the street, a box shaped and black vehicle got larger. Front lights let the driver peep the coming street, blinding Jacob and Rip. The street light showed red for a complete stop. Rip and Jacob stared hard at the faces through the car windows. The faces stared just as long, still staring even after the light augmented to green.
     “Was that Jon-Jon in the back?”
     “Look like ‘im,” Rip answered.
     “He need to stop hangin’ around them.”
     “I kno’.”
     Smoke carried from Jacob’s lips, “Hey?” he turned.
     Rip changed his lean, “Huh?”
     “What’s up wit’ his sister?”
     “Man,” Rip grinned, “she too young for you.”
     “Shit,” Jacob stretched the word like an echo. “How ol’ is she?”
     “I don’t kno’…sixteen or seventeen.”
     “That’s not young–
     –Only if she don’t tell,” Rip smiled, uncertain to his feeling on the subject.
     “When she turn eighteen?”
     “I don’t know.”
     “Shit,” Jacob said in disgust.
     Rip faced him and mentally marked steps of the ragged body that strolled towards them. He grinned,     “That’s your girl.”
     “Fuck you.” As she came up to him, Jacob asked, “Wha’ you want?” Silence was her reply, flicking a cigarette butt into a puddle. Again, “Wha’ you want?” he asked. A green lighter acted nervous in her hands. Eying her eyes, Jacob left his post. He opened the car door, grabbed his plastic bag, and gave away one of its contents. “Here.”