The Ride Of A Lifetime
A Short Story . . .
‘Can you drop me to St. Francis Halfway Housing Facility?’ The 50-year-old man said. His grey hat and black overcoat were wet due to the rain.
‘Yes, sir,’ the cab driver said.
The man sat beside the driver.
‘What’s your name?’ The man mumbled.
The driver smiled through his teenage moustache. ‘Varun, sir. And yours?’
Varun looked at the man with his grey eyes.
‘Amit,’ he said. ‘So, why this line of work?’
‘Financial problems, sir. My father was sent to jail right after I was born. I never met him. My mother took me away but it was difficult for her to manage all on her own. Now, she’s sick and I have to look after her.’
‘Tough times, huh?’ Amit mumbled.
‘Well . . .’
‘What happened to your mother?’
‘Cancer, sir. It’s tough. But she’ll recover, I have faith.’
‘You’re a good son, Varun.’
Varun smiled and nodded.
‘You have really coarse hair.’ Amit smiled.
‘Apparently, it runs in the family.’ He chuckled.
Ten minutes later, they reached St. Francis Halfway Housing Facility and Amit got out of the car.
‘Here’s your money, son,’ Amit said as he handed him three, fifty-rupee notes.
‘Thank you, sir. Enjoy your day.’ He smiled.
The car moved and Amit slid out his instant camera from his pocket and clicked a picture of the car. The printed photo slid out of the camera. He took off his hat and looked at himself in the water in a pothole . . . Coarse hair with grey eyes. He held the photo for a minute, staring at it. He took out pen from his pocket and wrote beneath the picture — my son.
