He’ll Never Make it

A careful consideration of the weather.

The rain was coming. The sky had turned a tortured grey, with swirls of clouds seemingly at odds with each other. I was going to be late meeting someone. I flicked my cigarette down onto the pavement and watched the orange ember burst apart.

I pulled out of the empty parking lot and drove through downtown, which was humming with people, some of them nervously glancing up at the ornery sky.

The first few drops collided with my windshield as I sped up to beat the light. On the sidewalk to my left there was a woman jogging with her dog. I leaned in, trying to get a better look at her face; she reminded me so strongly of someone else. The hair was wrong, but maybe the face would be right. Something like that.

That’s when I saw the man, waving at the cars going by. Waving at me. He was wearing a suit, unbuttoned, and a tie. His face was red and desperate.

I don’t know why I pulled over.

The man grabbed for the locked door before I even had the window down. “Thanks for stopping,” he said, out of breath. “I really need to catch my train, and if I keep walking to the station I’m going to get caught in the rain.” He was right — the summer rains were often short, but they were also cataclysmic. “I’ll take you the rest of the way,” I told him. And then I unlocked the door.

He got in holding a leather briefcase. It was worn in a hand-me-down sort of way, in a this belonged to my father, and his father before him, and so on, sort of way. “I have to make this train. I can’t be late,” he said. He looked to be on the other side of middle-age.

“What’s your name?” he asked me, in a forceful way that someone who is used to being the boss might ask. I told him, and then he told me his, a painfully ordinary name that I can’t remember. He jutted his hand out and I shook it, his grip twice the pressure of my own. “Where were you headed?” He asked, making conversation. “I’m on my way to meet someone. Probably going to be late though.” I thought to add that it wasn’t because of him, but he didn’t seem to be bothered, so I didn’t.

I stopped at a stop sign and he started to tap the briefcase, the sound of his fingers hitting the leather gave me a chill. Perhaps he was the kind of person to not stop at stop signs.

The station wasn’t much farther. “You ever feel like something bad is going to happen? Like you’re certain of it.” I wasn’t sure that he heard me, but I continued. “That’s the feeling I have about the person that I’m on my way to meet.”

“Yeah, well, relationships are hard.” The assumption stung, even if it was on the mark. Was I weightless, made up of so many nothings that there was no game to the guessing? It was an unreal day, driving through unreal rain, trying to get to someone who may or many not still be real. I wasn’t like this.“Is that all you have to say on the subject?”

He made sure to check this watch before fixing his eyes on me.“You’re young, you don’t know anything about relationships. So I”m telling you that they’re hard, and maybe you’ll do better with the next one.” I tried to take this in the spirit that it was meant, but I couldn’t figure out what that spirit was.

The station was just ahead. Whatever climatological forces needed to occur did, and the rain let loose in a torrent. “Shit,” the man said. “I was so close.”

“Is there anything else you could tell me? I need more, I don’t know what I’m walking into.” I craved something from him, some structure that I didn’t have. He looked at the rain and sighed. “I don’t know what you’re walking into either. Try not to lie if you can help it and make sure to take all the blame, even if it wasn’t your fault. That should cover it.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little cynical?” I heard the sound of the train approaching the station. The man opened the door, allowing the rain to get at him. “I don’t know what you want from me, my wife died.” He closed the door behind him and made his way up the stairs, soaked through before he could make it halfway.

I pulled away from the station and tried to see him in the rearview, but the rain had taken him. Maybe there would be other people waiting on the platform. They would welcome him and commiserate over the poor weather.

I was able to see her green hat through the window, even though it had fogged over. When I told her why I was late she smiled but didn’t say anything.