OFF THEY GO. Matthew rides in a happy fog, mystified by the chatter of his chums, who seem to speak a dialect he doesn’t understand. He has the feeling that, if he made the effort, he could understand them, but he’s content to be out of it, quite happy to sit back and go along for the ride, holding Tracy in his lap, wearing a goofy smile, like a happy child. He can hardly resist the urge to announce his happiness, give thanks for this unexpected companionship, confess that he’s thrilled to have a lap full of Tracy, whose amazing bottom makes every bump and pothole a delight, but there’s no opening in the conversation for him: everyone seems to be talking at once, even the boy riding in front, who’s talking to the driver, laughing as he talks. Matthew can’t tell what he might be talking about, but he envies his talent for talking with cabbies. It’s quite an animated discussion, with the boy doing most of the talking, the driver shrugging now and then, nodding, shaking his head. The boy laughs and slaps the driver on the shoulder.
Telling a joke? Matthew wonders.
The boy lights a cigarette, still talking, talking. He glances toward the back. His eyes meet Matthew’s and he smiles. Matthew nods and smiles. The boy raises his eyebrows, tilts his head toward Tracy, and winks, slyly, surreptitiously; Matthew glances at Tracy, sees that she’s looking away, glances at the boy again, tilts his head back, rolls his eyes upward, grins.
Two guys in wordless understanding, says BW.
Yeah. I wonder if this guy and Tracy —
Sure. Of course. You saw that wink.
The boy has turned away. He’s talking to the cabdriver again, slapping him on the shoulder again, but there’s money in his hand this time, a folded bill. He taps the shoulder of the driver’s leather jacket a couple of times before the driver acknowledges him. The driver takes the money, frowning, shaking his head.
Is he paying him? Are we there? Maybe they were arguing over the tip.
The ride is making Matthew dizzy; he’s begun to feel a little crapulent; he’d like this trip to end. He hasn’t been paying attention to where they’re going, and now when he looks out the window he doesn’t know where they are. They’ve left the North End, crossed the Charles, and are now in Charlestown, in an area torn apart to build new approaches to the Mystic River Bridge. They turn off the main road, and the cab dips and lurches and stumbles along a side street, a path through fields of rubble, its surface pocked and pitted, nearly impassable.
The driver stops the cab. They seem to be nowhere.
“Okay, everybody out!” calls the boy in the front, in high spirits, pounding the plastic partition.
“Where are we?” Matthew asks. He doesn’t see any buildings when he looks out the window, just the steel uprights that support the bridge approach, some heavy equipment lined up under the roadway, enormous, bulky, dark, and looming, mounds of earth and rubble, stacks of something shrouded in tarpaulins, nothing more.
“We’re headed up there,” says the boy in front, pointing through the windshield. “This fuck won’t go any farther. He’s worried about the cab. He says the road sucks.”
Matthew can see some buildings ahead. He can’t really tell how far away they are.
“Cabdrivers,” says Matthew, loudly enough to be heard through the partition. “They’re my favorite people.”
The driver twists around and looks at Matthew. His head is nearly spherical. It’s the only part of him that projects above the back of the seat. “This is it,” he says. “No more. I’m not bustin’ the fuckin’ cab in this shit.”
“Fuck you,” says Matthew, perhaps assuming that he’s found his new friends’ idiom at last. “We’ll walk.”
Matthew levers the door open and gives Tracy a squeeze, as if he were merely telling her to slide out. She gets out, Matthew gets out, everyone is out, then everyone is in, whooping, howling, laughing, everyone but Matthew. The doors slam. The cab drives off, roaring, screeching.
[to be continued]
In Topical Guide 555, Mark Dorset considers Setting: Dark, Secluded, Dangerous from this episode.
Have you missed an episode or two or several?
You can begin reading at the beginning or you can catch up by visiting the archive or consulting the index to the Topical Guide.
You can listen to the episodes on the Personal History podcast. Begin at the beginning or scroll through the episodes to find what you’ve missed.
You can listen to “My Mother Takes a Tumble” and “Do Clams Bite?” complete and uninterrupted as audiobooks through YouTube.
You can ensure that you never miss a future issue by getting a free subscription. (You can help support the work by choosing a paid subscription instead.)
At Apple Books you can download free eBooks of Little Follies and Herb ’n’ Lorna.
You’ll find overviews of the entire work in An Introduction to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of Peter Leroy (a pdf document) and at Encyclopedia.com.
🎧 555: Off they go.