Junya tossed the candy bar back on the shelf and ran up the stairs to the train. No matter how many times Junya had been to New Haven, being on the train, he never saw anything that looked familiar. Throughout his years of knowing Kholi, he had gone to New Haven numerous times, and into numerous spots, but he never saw these sights. It almost looked like the country: large plots of grass and houses; it could not have been the same New Haven. When the train stopped, Junya looked above the luggage compartment above his head, and sure enough, found a purse.
There was no one near him that the purse could
have belonged to, so Junya balled up the strap and carried it like it was a small
briefcase in the palm of his hand. Junya went into the men.s room and searched
through the bag. The only thing that was in the purse was makeup, tissue, and a
college ID; no money. Junya washed off the bag in the sink and dumped it in the
trash before he thought anyone saw him.
Junya sat on the bench in-between a donut shop and a sandwich shop.
Whenever he caught the train from Hartford, he would always wait in the same
spot. It kept a view of both entrances, as well as the entrances from the cross-
town busses and the trains. He saw everyone that came in the terminal, and
everyone that left out. He also got a good view of the honeys that came through
there every so often.
Thirty five minutes had passed since Junya got off of the train from NYC,
yet he had not seen any sign of his friend Kholi. His clothes were still all fucked
up from the fight, and his appearance could not have been any better. He had
not brushed his teeth, nor seen a bath, and he knew that funk would become a
factor soon enough. Junya looked at himself while he sat down in the train
station and started to self evaluate his situation: Here he was, back in
Connecticut, and he did not know where his girlfriend was. He broke night
trying to find her, only to be nearly kidnapped by a cab driver. He snuck past a
nurse in the hospital, giving up his position to someone who really needed it,
and then he bagged a fine ass attorney all while looking like a decrepit bum.
Now he is waiting, depending on his good friend to do what good friends do in a
situation of such crisis and look out for him.
The only problem was that Kholi
was no where to be found, and Junya was waiting, expecting Kholi to show up
on the strength of friendship.
"I will give him another half hour... Junya said quietly to himself. If he is
not here in the next half, I will call Lani early and ask her to pick me up from
the...nah. I will wait another hour, this dude could be at work or something, and
Lani said she was busy until 7:15pm. If I call her now, it will seem like I am
sweating hon..."
Junya reached into his pants pocket and pulled out just enough change to
make another phone call. Junya only had $30.00, including the dub that the
woman at the diner gave him. He would have to break his $10.00 bill just to
make another call. The train ticket back to NYC was $30.00 even.
If he did not
get a hold of Kholi, he would either go back to NYC on his own; bloody clothes
and all, or just call it a life and head back into Hartford, where he knew he could
get a nice bath, a warm meal, clean clothes, and everything else his sorry stay-at-
home ass would benefit from: comfort.
"Hello, I am not available at this time, please leave your name..."
"Damn! Shit! Junya yelled out loud. The top of his hand banged down
on the top of the pay phone.
"Yo Kholi, this is Junya, yo boy in a mother fucking jam right now. I am
straight out of cashish, and I am bloodied the fuck up out here in front of people.
Khevasiah left me out in the city, and I had caught the train..."