The rain became heavier as they walked through the city. Jakob offered Megan his coat to cover her head. She just laughed.
“I’m a Seattleite, sweetie. Rain is our version of sunshine.”
She offered to buy him a sandwich from a deli. He waved her off. “I’ll take a coffee, though,” he said, counting change in his hand and sliding it over the counter. “A small one.”
“You look hungry,” Megan said, “and I really don’t mind giving you an advance on services rendered.”
“Well, I mind taking it.” He smiled to take the edge out of the anger in his voice. There was no reason to talk that way, of course, but the bitterness of those born into poverty does not die easy.
Megan ordered a latte and they continued on their way, ducking a short while later into Pike’s Market where a crowd applauded longshoremen flinging enormous fish at each other and catching them theatrically in white paper.
Megan watched Jakob’s dirty fingernails as he raised his cup to his mouth, apparently thinking he wouldn’t notice her doing so. “Are you a psychologist?”
Jakob shook his head. “I don’t know what to call what I am.”
She looked up and down his ragged clothes. “Does it pay well?”
“It pays whatever clients are willing to donate, which isn’t much sometimes. Sometimes it isn’t anything.”
“You’re like a starving artist, then. All talent and no business sense.”
“No, not like that. I just have a code.”
They walked down stairs to the lower levels of the market.
“Well, what’s the code?”
Jakob sipped. “Never take anything I haven’t earned.”
The bitterness had crept back into his voice. Seeming to sense it, Megan changed the subject. “So, how did you come to do this job that you have no name for?”
Jakob felt the eyes of the shoppers and tourists on him, their suspicion and disgust. The words homeless scum broke psychically through the background chatter.
“Five years ago,” he said, “I was worse off than you are. I walked right to the edge of a bridge and everything.”
“I’m sure the voices were very supportive of your decision.”
“Oh, yes. It was like having a demonic Tony Robbins in my head.”
Megan squealed with laughter at the success coach’s name.
Jakob smirked. “I’m glad you find humor in my suffering.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve been living alone with this for so long, it just feels good to joke about it.”
Jakob waved her off. “No need to apologize. Gallows humor is essential in this line of work.”
They walked into a magic shop. Jakob set his coffee on the floor, took three balls out of a bin, and juggled. His form was perfect, mastered through years of performing on street corners for pocket change.
“Right before jumping I decided that, if I was just going to commit suicide anyway, I might as well figure out what was wrong with me so I could help others in the same situation. I started with Western psychology, moved to Eastern, and then to things more esoteric. I pieced parts of it all together and realized what kind of world we’re living in. That’s when I found the Shadow.”
Megan pulled the lid off her coffee and drank from the open mouth. “What did you do you then?”
“I killed it.” He caught one ball in each hand and then one on his forehead. He balanced it there for a moment and then dumped them all back in the bin.
“So you’re going to kill my Shadow, too?” Megan asked.
“No.” Jakob picked up his coffee. “You are.”
Megan’s cup trembled in her hand. “I can’t do that.”
“You have to. Everyone has to kill their own, or else new ones will just come along to replace them.”
“Is it dangerous?”
Jakob put on a pair of glasses with enormous fish eyes painted on them. “Very.”
“I really wish you wouldn’t make light of all this.”
Jakob flashed his best coy smile. “It always helps to act like a bad ass before going into battle, Megan. Always.”
Copyright 2018 Jeff Suwak