At the Corner

It was a green light, so I stood on the corner of Ashland and Roosevelt, waiting to cross. Though it was already early March, the winter persisted, and my hands were icy. I rubbed my fingers against the inner lining of my coat, trying to warm them before my next round. The hardest days of winter had passed, but the gray still lingered, casting a cloudy shadow onto the afternoon. I peered across the corner at the gas station. Something was different. There was a large banner hung across the top that read, ‘Rise from the ashes’ with an image of man, his back turned, picking himself up after an explosion. It was just some upcoming movie advertisement, but it felt strange and out of place on the corner, or maybe I just didn’t like change.

I watched anxiously as the light flickered to yellow, then to red and walked out onto the median in-between the two lanes. I had redone my sign this morning at the shelter with an old black sharpie that I found under one of the bunks. The sharpie had lost ink about halfway through so the first five letters, HOMEL, in homeless were much darker and more defined than the rest. The rest of the sign was almost ineligible, but I figured people just saw me and knew. I shuffled down the median, head bent, looking out the corner of my eye at the drivers as I passed. I was used to almost every reaction at this point. The smiling but guilty looking drivers, the looking straight ahead trying to avert my gaze drivers, and the afraid locks the door before I approach drivers. I used to fantasize about someone handing me a stack of 100-dollar bills. That never happened of course, I usually got coins or trinkets from their car, sometimes half eaten food or garbage.

A balding, white guy rolled down his window and with a tight smile handed me a pack of gum, a dollar and a water bottle.

“Thank you, god bless,” I said as he rolled up his window and pressed a little too eagerly on the gas.

Like all my attempts in the past hour, this particular walk of shame had been rather fruitless. I pulled out the dollars waded up in my right-hand jean pocket. $3.62 cents. At least I could buy a cup of coffee. The shelter didn’t open until 5pm so I had about 40 minutes to kill. I could wait it out in Dunkin Donuts if that one power trip manager didn’t see me. I started to make my way over when I noticed someone on the opposite corner.

It was Terrence. The last I heard Terrence had gone south for the winter with that white girl with the long dreads from the Mission, Veronica. Smart move to escape the cold, but why come back here? I studied him from across the street. He had a red bandana tied low around his forehead and an oversized motorcycle jacket. He looked even more strung out and distracted than I remember. He kept shaking his leg while he looked off into the southbound traffic. Even though he’d been away, I’m surprised he showed up here- he knew this was my time and my corner. It was clear he hadn’t seen me as he was positioned facing in the opposite direction, so I retreated onto the bus bench, hidden from his view to watch. He was waiting for someone; his eyes hadn’t budged from the cars rushing past.

A minute passed, then 2, then 3. I was getting bored of this and was going to tell him to move along, this is my corner, when a black escalade with chrome rims sped down Ashland and made an unexpected U-turn across the median pulling up right alongside Terrence. The driver made no attempt at being discrete, the car was thumping up and down to the beat of the blasting music. Terrence jumped in the front seat right before the car aggressively backed up, crossing the intersection to pull backwards into the gas station. It sat there idly for some time before the commotion started.

It started as a low rumble but then mounted to full on shouting, screaming. There were at least 3 voices, one of which was Terrence. The car was tinted, but I could see outlines and shapes through it, moving up and down causing the car to shake more violently. Surprisingly no other cars were around, the corner had cleared out just in time for this scene to unfold. The arguing was growing louder and louder. I stood up to make my way across the street. Terrence and I had our issues, but we were cut from the same cloth and I would have his back. Before I fully crossed, the car door swung open and Terrence was dumped out onto the gas station cement. I could feel his bony body hit the cement like a vibration through my own, but it was only a second before he sprang back up shouting, “You bitch ass mother…”. But before Terrence could finish his string of profanities, came the shot. One single shot that pushed Terrence back onto the cement.

“Terrence!” I yelled; the shot still ringing in my ears. I knew then and there that I had made a huge mistake, a no turning back mistake. One of the faceless shapes in the back of the car turned towards me, they had seen me. Never let them see you or they will own you, my pops used to say. The car then peeled away, speeding down Roosevelt, the wheels leaving tire marks next to Terrence’s small body. Then like in slow motion, Ali the gas station owner came out yelling for help, while I shook Terrence’s lifeless body by the shoulders. Cars now started to trickle in, some stopping, some slowly passing by observing the scene.

A woman emerged with groceries from inside the gas station exclaiming, “I’m calling the police."

That’s what made me run. The word police. I let go of Terrance and sprinted down the street, my bad ankle throbbing. I ran until the sweat soaked my t-shirt down my back, while I sucked cold air in through my teeth to steady my panting.

You’re such a fucking coward… Go back, tell them what you saw, I urged myself. But my sense of self-preservation was too strong. I couldn’t go back because I knew the owner of that escalade and the fleet of escalades that roam around the city, terrorizing anyone who crosses its path, all too well.

The fleet belongs to The Black Bull.

No one has ever met or seen the Bull, not that I know of. He is more a legend. When I was a kid there were stories about him, that he actually had horns like some kind of man devil and if you crossed the bull, your body would be ripped in two by those horns. His cronies were the ones doing his bidding. Selling the drugs and making the deals. When I was a kid, my pops got involved with them. At first everything seemed fine, better than fine. Our family was living large and no one on the block would mess with us. We were powerful with the Bull on our side. Pops bought me and James new bikes and a big screen tv. All summer long we would just race around and watch movies all night. The best summer of my life.

But like everything good, it eventually turned to shit. The Black Bull took hold of my pops in a profound way. You could see it in his body. Before the Bull, my dad was tall and strong but at the end I remember him shrinking down to nothing. The circles under his eyes grew from small rings to huge saucers. Life had been sucked straight out of him and then the day came that he was just…gone. That was 33 years ago. If I were to say anything about what I saw, I wouldn’t just fade away, I’d be gone immediately.

Back at the shelter I couldn’t sleep so I spent the night with one of the security guards shooting the shit. I talked in circles to avoid thinking about Black Bull’s men coming after me. I could pick up and finally go to a new city, get out of here for good. A fresh start. And what the fuck did they care if I saw them? Murdering for them was as routine as brushing their teeth.

When the sun rose, despite my mind saying no, my body was pulled to the corner like some magnetic field. I sat on that damn bus stop bench, looking out at the dark, bloodied stain on the gas station concrete. I sat there for hours, just staring at what was left of Terrence, replaying yesterday’s events over in my mind. If I had approached Terrence right away, maybe he would still be here. I could have stopped him from going into that car.

A few hours later, a black sedan pulled up. Two guys stepped out and you could tell just by their confident swagger they were cops. One had a little black notebook, a fancy one, that he would pull out and jot down notes while Ali talked. They stayed for all about 5 minutes. That was all the time someone in this neighborhood got - 5 minutes.

It was now late morning and the mid-day traffic started to pick up. I headed into Dunkin Donuts spending most of my money on a large coffee. I needed my strength for my rounds today. The rest of the afternoon was uneventful. I dragged myself up and down the median, head bent low not even looking at the drivers, my money cup extended in front of me. Round after round with no bites but I kept going. It was maybe my fifth round when I heard someone whistle and a heavy bag landed at my feet.

The car raced away, but I caught a glance at the chrome tires. It had started to snow, and the knapsack laying against the tip of my boots was already starting to dampen under wet flakes. My heart was thumping, louder and louder in my chest. I wondered if it would burst. I opened the bag to see a note on top.

“You’re hired son. You’re gonna pay for Terrence’s debts. We start tomorrow.” - BB.

The Black Bull. Inside the bag was $20,000 dollars. I stood there with the bag in my hands, the weight of it pulling down my shoulders. I knew what this money meant, I now belonged to the Bull. I looked over at the gas station, I could still picture Terrence lying there. So small and helpless at the end of his life. The banner above the gas station had begun to rip in two from the weight of the snow, the slogan “Rise from the ashes” splitting down the middle. That godforsaken banner never belonged here.

If I ran, I was dead. If I stayed, I was dead- I was trapped. I could feel the bull’s horns start to tighten against my ribs. Just a slight pierce on my sides but slowly I knew it would dig in further. I had been branded and there was nothing left to do but pay for Terrence’s sins. I took the $20,000 back to the shelter and stashed it under my bunk. I slept hard without dreaming that night and the next morning I knew what to do. Even if this was the Bull’s world, this was my rodeo.

I went to my corner. I pulled out Terrence’s red bandana that I had stashed before running from the scene. I put it around my forehead. I’m rising up and gonna go out fighting, I said to myself as I saw one of the escalades approaching from around the corner.