Shoe Shiner - Andrew Dixon
Art Credit: Audia Yvonne Dixon - Fresno State Alumni & Professor
The sun was shining bright and early. The wind was brisk with a slight chill in the air. The pavement emitted the smell of the previous night’s rain. A blend of pea coats, dresses, and briefcases moved to and fro. Honking horns blared, disturbing the peace of every sleeping babe. A woman could be seen drying clothes on the upper balcony. Across from her, a man leaned on the railing, enjoying his cigarette. Below him, the beating of a rug caused dust to splice through the air flowing into the street. And amongst all the hustle and bustle, the voice of a young boy could be heard fishing for clients.
“SHOESHINES, GET YOUR SHOES SHINED, 5 CENTS AND I’LL HAVE YOUR SHOES LOOKING LIKE MIRRORS.”
The boy was at the hip of a potential patron matching his speed. The man simply tilted his hat downward and trudged forward. The second man scoffed at the boy. The third brushed him off with his elbow. The number of attempts increased with unwanted results.
“TAKE A CHANCE, DON’T BE THE EVERYMAN.”
The boy looked around and then briefly caught the eyes of a young man. He preyed upon his hesitancy and guided him to his workshop. “Right this way, sir,” he said with excitement. With a pep in his step and glee in his eye, the boy rolled out an imaginary red carpet. “Welcome to my office.” The man stopped and looked at his office. The seat was a ledge just wide enough to sit on, and the cushion was just a beat-up old pillow. The man slowly took a seat, and the boy handed him the daily paper. He scrounged through what looked like a pillowcase and laid out a horsehair brush, cloth, polish, and got to work.
“So, where ya headed?” the boy said curiously with his eyes looking past the man.
Flipping the page, “Job interview,” the man said with uninterest. A bit of disappointment formed on the mouth of the boy.
“Job interview, huh? Well, you’ll definitely have the best first impression once I’m finished.”
Another page flipped, “Mmhmm,” the man murmured as if he wasn’t even listening. The young boy made eye’s contact with someone and subtly shook his head.
The boy quickened his polishing and kept talking to keep the man occupied. The session was just about over until the sound of a whistle pierced through the city. The sound got the attention of the man. He figured it was about time to pay. So, he reached into his pocket but found nothing there. He tried his other pocket, and the result was the same.
“What the...” he said with confusion. He slammed the paper down to view the boy, but he was gone. All he could see was his own reflection in his shining shoes. He spewed every obscenity known to man. And frantically searched in every direction, but the boy was lost in the mob of the city.
The sun began to set across the crimson sky, casting two shadows in an alleyway. Two teens no older than seventeen walked in unison. The youngest and smallest was a boy that wore a shabby double-breasted navy suit, a mustard-colored scarf, and a gold chain that hung outside his lower pocket.
“10...20...25... 30 that makes 30 cents for the day,” the boy counted while kicking rocks at trash cans.
“Pretty light, don’t ya think, David?” the tallest said with frustration, sporting a patchy burgundy pea coat and bruise that had begun to yellow.
“How was I supposed to know the guy didn’t have a job? Even the bums dress like the rich up there.”
Tommy, with his flat cap pointing down and in no hurry, pulled a cigarette from behind his ear, cupped his hand around his lighter, and took a puff. “That’s because you just look’n, I need you to start see’n. How old are they? How do they carry themselves? Shit like that.”
The boy gathered his thoughts and responded, “And what took you so long?” complained the boy. With a hand in his pocket and continuing his smoke, “He was ancy, couldn’t get the angle on him.”
David kicked another rock “Damn near had to actually polish the man's shoes.”
A chuckle came from Tommy. “Hey, you might've found your calling,” saying it with a smirk.
“Well, at least he got his money’s worth,” said David.
Tommy flicked his cigarette to the ground, gave it a twist with his boot, and told the kid, “C’mon, let's get outta here, getting late.”
It was night by the time they got back to their turf—hooded figures huddled by open fires. Junkies shot up for all to see. Dilapidated buildings were filled with eyes watching their every move. And stray dogs and cats scurried the streets. As the two continued their walk, they greeted familiar faces, scared off beggars, and laughed about the profanities their victim hollered.
When they heard the music, they knew home was right around the corner. They passed local clubs and all the drunkards loitering about and went into their abandoned building. They went upstairs to a room containing only three walls and the fourth exposing them to the cold air. A fair trade for a beautiful view of the city. They lit a fire, which illuminated the room. It revealed what little they had. “Catch,” Tommy said. The boy fumbled two apples to the floor. He gathered the fruit, and his stomach stopped complaining, but the longer he looked, the more his smile wilted.
“What’s wrong? You’ve been complaining about your stomach all day,” asked Tommy while eating his apple.
“It’s just, is it always going to be like this? Every day begging, robbing, scrounging for food, until either of us ends up dead or thrown in prison.” Tommy threw his apple core out into the distance. He lay on the floor with arms folded behind his head, staring at the embers from the crackling fire rising to the moon.
“I don’t know. I just take it one day at a time. Don’t really have much of a choice.”
After a while, Tommy stood up and lit a cigarette. “Get some sleep. Be back in a couple of hours.” “Where are you going?” asked David. “Gotta get some stuff. Now, c'mon, get to bed.”
The room no longer felt the warm embers of the fire. It was now a cool blue with black shadows from the moonlit sky. David lay on the hard cold floor with his mind wandering. He could still feel the pulsing music from the club nearby. He reached down, pulling out the gold chain that hung loosely outside his pocket. It was a gold pocket watch. His eyes felt warm as he handled it fondly. And he used the cloth from his shoe-shining equipment to polish it. He took a deep breath, clicked the side, and unveiled its secrets. There was a small scratched photo of a woman and a boy. He stared at the child's smile so full of happiness and joy.
He could hear laughter.
He could feel the sun.
He could hear her voice.
The woman radiated beauty and love. A warmth began to swell in David’s chest. As tears trickled down his face, the door creaked open, and David quickly hid his watch.
Tommy walked in, briefly paused, and felt as if he was interrupting something. He made his way to his bed, sat down, and let out a deep sigh. “Everything alright?” sniffled David as he tried to hide the wiping of his tears.
“Yes and no. But don’t worry about it.”
They both lay in silence for what seemed like hours. The room no longer shook from the loud music down the street. Now there was silence, aided with the singing of a cool breeze.
Tommy spoke first. “David, you up?” he whispered.
“Yes,” the boy responded.
“You should go back. You're a good kid, you still gotta chance.” David sat up immediately.
“You're joking, right? I don’t have anything to go back to.”
“You're still a kid and you're not a fighter. You could go back to school or go to an orphanage. Get adopted. Get a fresh start.”
“I’m not going back to a place like that again,” David said, trying to hold his ground. Tommy’s eyes narrowed.
“Look, I get it. But if you keep going down this path, you’ll lose yourself. What we do is not a game; you’ve seen the eyes on us on this side of town. They will take everything you got. People are more desperate than ever. Don’t be a fool.”
David got off the floor and sat on the edge of the room, looking at the city. Tommy copied his actions and sat next to him. Their feet dangled over the darkness. The boy looked at the city, imagining a better life, until he heard the sound of an instrument.
It was a harmonica. The soft melody calmed the minds of the two. “I didn’t know you could play. You're good.” David said with surprise. Tommy stopped playing and looked down at the old, dented instrument. His thumbs gently rubbed the piece. “Yeah. Had to pick up a trade quickly, or else I wouldn’t have made it. But people don’t want music anymore. You’ve seen the soup lines snaking around the block. A harmonica player ain’t fit for times such as this.”
A brief silent treaty was formed by the pair.
“Look!” David said, pointing out with his finger breaking the treaty. Tommy’s eyes lifted and he stuck out his palm collecting the cold crystals and watching them dissolve.
“Snow,” Tommy said solemnly.
“I am a fighter...” mumbled David.
Tommy shook his head and sighed. He played the harmonica for a little longer until they went to sleep to prepare themselves for the upcoming day.
The sky was gray with a few clouds in the sky. No wind, but the snow continued to fall. The city was busy as usual, and so were the two boys. David was polishing the shoes of a client while he read the paper. “So, mister, what do you do for work?' the boy asked. The man was older, well-groomed, and wore a tailored suit.
“I own my own law firm. Right now, one of our clients is one of those stars in the pictures people can’t stop raving about.”
He had an arrogance in his tone that David found obnoxious. But he was happy to have finally caught a big fish. The shoe shiner nodded, knowing Tommy was watching him. The small talk continued, and David’s numb hands circled the tips of the man’s black shoes. But the circling ceased the moment a piercing whistle shot from the crowd. David took off, and the man was confused until he checked his pockets.
“Hey! Stop! Grab that kid, I’ve been robbed!”
David ignored the shouts and went unnoticed for a while. He started to pick up his pace as the crowd whispered amongst themselves and parted away from him like the Red Sea. Then a man latched onto him by the arm. His grip was strong, and it couldn’t be broken.
“Taking you to the police,” the man said with venom.
“I didn’t steal anything. You can check for yourselves.” David argued.
The man searched him and was disappointed not to find the money. “I’m taking you in anyway. Tired of all these delinquents running amok. Time to clean up this city.”
A right hook by Tommy landed the man on his back. He flexed his knuckles, shaking off the pain. The crowd shrieked and started to encircle them. “Police! Police!” multiple people had called out.
"David, we gotta get outta here. Meet at the spot.” Tommy said with urgency. David nodded. They split up, dashing in opposing directions, pushing through the crowd to meet at the agreed-upon place.
Out of breath, David finally made it back to their turf. It was quiet. The only sound that could be heard was a wailing wind and the crunching of David’s footsteps against the snow. But as he walked, he could feel eyes watching him.
A voice called out. “Where’s Tommy?” a thin man in tattered clothes said. David ignored the man and walked around him.
“Off in a hurry ain’t ya?” Another man with a hoarse voice said, leaning against a car. Then two more appeared. Four men surrounded the boy, and they knew they had him. Instinct kicked in and David ran only to be caught with a fist to the face.
It was in the middle of the street. A kick. A punch. To the stomach. To the face. His consciousness faded in and out.
“That looks shiny,” a voice chuckled. His eyes were closed, but he could hear the crunching of the snow as they walked away. His body lay in a ball, battered and broken, amidst the falling snow.
David’s eyes slowly opened. A boot was the first thing he saw. “I watched what happened.” A familiar voice called out. Tobacco filled the air. “I wanted to see what you would do.” David slowly looked up to see Tommy.
“I misjudged you. When I told you to get out of the game I meant it. Maybe this is what you needed. Tommy said calmly.
“H-How could you? I thought we were “Frie—”
“Friends? I’m a survivor kid and never needed any help. Especially with some posh brat like you. You wanna know the reason people don’t fuck with you? It’s because of me. I guess you took that for granted. But now you know what it's like to be on your own. And what’s worse, you tried to run.”
“What was I supposed to do? They were bigger, older. There were too many of them.”
Tommy blew out a smoke and spoke calmly. “And you think you can just keep running forever? Those people live around here David. Other people like them and worse live around here. Now people know that they can take whatever they want from you, fearing no consequences. You've ruined your rep.” Tommy flicked his cig into the snow and started to walk away.
“Wait, where are you going?”
“Don’t come back kid.”
David couldn’t move and didn’t want to listen to the words directed at him. All David could do is clench the clumps of white snow in his palms and feel the ice-cold burn. There they were hanging out in an alleyway, shooting up as usual. “Well, look who it is, if it isn’t our dear friend Tommy.” The thin man said with a yellow smile. Tommy stood in front of the four and puffed a smoke. He walked towards them with his hands in his pockets as they readied themselves. Tommy struck first. Knocking out the thin man instantly. His lip was split, revealing the tender flesh of his gums. They were shocked and looked at Tommy’s fist. Gold brass dripped blood over his knuckles. Three pulled out knives and tried to surround him. One had a gun.
The man with the gun fell flat on his face into the snow. A pool of blood began to form. The boy that was beaten and abandoned with everything taken away from him staggered, breathing heavily with a purple, swollen eye, clutching a metal pipe.
“David! Get out of here!”
David did not budge.
“He’s dead. You killed him!” screamed a man with an unkempt beard. He rushed to David. And Tommy rushed to the man only to be met with a slash to the face—a cut opened above Tommy’s eye. Blood flowed into the snow. Tommy covered the open wound, but the man continued to attack David with his knife.
“Nooo!” screamed Tommy.
A deafening sound dazed the boy. And the man lay cold on top of him. Another sound popped off, but this time it was muffled. The heavy body was thrown to the wayside.
David, too stunned to move, looked up at the falling snow. It fell so gracefully that he had the urge to grab one. His five fingers spread wide as he collected the delicate crystal in his palm. But when he looked at his palm, the crystal melted and mixed with the streams of blood flowing down his wrist. He looked at the man lying in the snow, not moving. David screamed uncontrollably.
Tommy brought David back to reality. He took the revolver out of David’s shaking hand and threw it to the ground, and wiped splattered blood off his face. He stood David on his feet. Three lay dead in pools of red. And the other lay unconscious. One body was convulsing. The black hole in his head spewed blood in spurts like a broken sprinkler.
“David! Look at me. The police are on the way, you've got to hide.”
David tried to form words. Tommy embraced him, palming the back of the boy's head.
“You're gonna be alright, kid.”
Tommy hid him behind a dumpster. David clutched his chin to his knees and listened.
Car doors opened. Footsteps ran. “Get down to the ground.” A voice yelled out—a thud. Metal clinked together. Boots dragged on the concrete. Doors slammed shut. The engine
rumbled.
“You take him. I’ll stay behind for backup.”
David ran through the alleyway past the bodies. Past the officer.
“Hey, kid, this area is restricted!”
He saw the cop car driving off in the distance. Tommy looked back out the rearview and nodded slightly to the boy with a sad smile. Tommy was getting smaller and smaller.
He stuffed his blood-stained hands into his pockets for warmth. To his surprise, in his left hand, he pulled out a wad of cash. And in his right hand, cold metal. He pulled the long chain, and the gold shimmered. He opened it, and all was intact. His eyes began to well up. He squeezed the gold in his fist and watched the car drive off. Alone.
Andrew Dixon is a senior at Fresno State majoring in Creative Writing. His main focus is fiction, but he is open to nonfiction. He enjoys characters with complicated relationships. When he is not creating, he loves to watch films as they have become a huge influence on his writing style. This will be his first publication.
