NanoWriMo Project

Part 1

Where Devin quits his job, gets evicted, and finds new love.

Chapter 1

It was a frigid January morning in Boston. A fresh snow had just fallen the previous night, and the clouds still hang low, encapsulating the city in a muffled globe, all sounds seeming to die just feet away from where they started. On days like this the snow would crunch and squeak beneath each footfall. Sometimes pleasingly, sometimes precipitously when what seemed to be a normal step was actually the edge of the sidewalk.

Falling forward sickeningly, Devin just catches himself, back screaming in pain, a mumbled curse jumping from his lips. Luckily it doesn't travel far, it's still dark out, and will be for another hour or so. He pulls his hat firmly over his ears, shrugs his backpack further up his shoulders, and starts his half jog down South Huntington up again. There's a faint squeak behind letting him know the Green E Line is making it's turn just down the block from him, and his stop is still a block and a half ahead of him.

He wants to stop and enjoy the sight, snow cleanses the worst parts of this town. It turns the trash strewn streets into a magical wonderland of snow, and beautiful red brick. It's New England at it's best, where you can feel the age of the cities around you, but not have to see the shit holes some parts of it have become over the last 200 or so years.

The T blares its horn at a car brave (stupid) enough to try and sneak in front it, the driver's face pure panic as her car slides a few feet foward in the slippery snow. Crisis averted, though, as her sedan, clearly not well suited for winter conditions, does eventually stop angled before losing a fight against the 85,000 pound train. Devin shakes his head as he tries to keep his pace up to the corner.

He's rushing to get to a job he hates, away from an apartment he can barely afford, in a city with which he is quickly growing tired. He seeks generous contributions (solicits money) from passersby in the Financial District downtown. It's a prime spot, if you even get one person to donate to whatever cause it is that made it on to your clipboard, you'll more than likely meet your daily quota. The only problem is finding that one person pits you against the worst scum humanity has to offer.

Devin has to continually remind himself he's only been working this job for eight months. His patience has worn this thing in eight short months, his loss of faith in humanity, his mounting frustrations (bills) have all occured in roughly 245 days. Less time than it usually takes to create an single human being, he has grown to despise the rest of it that's already living.

His strain visible in clouds of vapor the escape his lips and trail behind him, Devin finally makes it to the corner. A mere block and a half away from the front steps of his apartment, but trudging through fresh snow is not particularly easy.

The train stop before him, and the doors thunk open. He steps in, mumbles to the conductor while tapping his pass on the scanner and trails snow across the floor of the train cabin, empty but for himself, and sits. His mind wanders as Mr. T makes announcements, and the train slowly screeches (screams) as it turns off South Huntington, onto Huntington Ave proper.

Chapter 2

"Entering Park St, doors will open on your right. The destination of this train is Lechmere."

"Devin, there you are man! You wanna grab some Dunkin' before work?"

Devin hears Carla before he sees her, the doors have barely opened and she's already cheerfully (loudly) calling for him. Carla's much short than him, pretty and mousy, though all he could see of her right now was her face, a tuft of hair fashionably(?) pulled out of her beanie.

"Yo, morning Carla. Yeah I could use some coffee. Fuckin' cold out. It's normally not this cold right after some fresh snow, this is stupid cold. Almost missed the T trying to budge my frigid ass through all of it."

She laughs at him, "Watch your fucking mouth sir, I am your boss after all."

That was probably the worst part about his job, Devin absolutely adored his boss. He was almost convinced she might not be human, consider his blanket disdain for the rest of his own species. She was first and foremost patient, with him or anybody else she encountered, even the scum that set Devin fully on edge.

She had an easy smile, but was firm and forward. Nothing about her seemed fragile, or easily manipulative. She was, in essence, everything Devin was not, and he had the utmost respect for her because of this. You may as well have slapped a ball of happy sunshine above her, a depressing storm cloud over him.

"Yeah, sure Carla, let's get moving though eh? My boss is a real hard ass when I'm late."

"Oh yeah, she's a real disciplinarian I've heard. Beats her subordinates who push her buttons too often," Carla's already turning heading towards the escalators.

The early morning crowds push their way out of the escalator into the brightening sunny morning. The snow in the Common is making it feel brighter than it really is, but it really does look...right. Frozen stone fountains just look better when covered in snow. Devin didn't really know why, but they did.

People were massing by the street, waiting for the crosswalk light to change on Tremont. A few brave (dumb) souls cross before the light's changed, apparently confident that they won't slip at all in the fresh snow. Only a few do, and by that time the light's already changed.

He crosses the street with Carla, not really paying attention as she chatters on, not slowing down for her shivers, or to catch her breath. They make it to Dunkin', leave with a coffee each, Devin with an everything bagle to tide him over.

"You seem distracted my man. I know you're the weak and silent type, but you're a little more quiet than usual. What's on your mind?"

Devin pauses to pop his coffee open a bit, take a pleasurably scalding sip, "Oh nothing, just having a rough morning."

Carla raises a single eyebrow, she can be pretty cute sometimes, but right now all Devin could see was concern in her eyes.

"Really I'm fine Carla...it's just my landlord's been on me about rent so hard this last month that I've been too scared to even mention my heater's been acting up again. I just haven't been getting a lot of sleep is all."

"Sir, you need to talk to him about that today. Even if you're a little behind on rent, there's gotta be some law in this damn city about not providing heat to tenants in the middle of winter."

"You know Carla," Devin starts to smile. They both know she's wrong, there's absoultely no such law, but they both also know that he's not going to convince her of this. So he just laughs, and lets it drop. "You're right, I'll talk to him tonight, see if we can't come to some kind of arrangement on the rent, too. Feel good about today, gonna solicit.."

"Seek generous contributions."

"Right, I'm gonnna seek the ever living fuck out of some generous contributions and get my full pay today. See if that'll be enough to keep him off my back a little while longer. I mean he knows it's winter, there's just not many people wanting to stop in the middle of the street to make out with their partner much less talk to a strange so..eeking contributions."

"Nice save. Look, just try to get 15 in your shift today and I'll see what I can do about getting your full pay. Nobody's getting their 30 a day right now, not even close. I'm sure  I can convince Eric...of something I don't know. I'll think of the flowery words later, you just focus on getting 15, and getting your damn heat fixed. I'll check in on you around lunch, see how you're doing."

Carla walks away from Devin, turning around to wave at him, nearly dropping her coffee. He smiles and waves back, turns to head down the other way down the block, searing his throat with coffee, hoping that might keep him up for the next 4 hours.

Chapter 3

Here's the deal with soliciting money, you have your clipboard so, in Boston at least, people can pick you out from a mile away. You're not necessarily looking for money on the spot, although cash and checks are greatly appreciated. No, what you're actually looking for are names, emails, phones numbers, and the promises of money yet to be. That's what the clip board is for.

The first trick is getting someone to stop, and it is absolutely a trick. There are ways of asking questions that get people to stop in their tracks, offensive or insulating are absolutely valid as well, "Are you really comfortable killing a child today?"

The goal is just to get someone to stop, have a conversation with you, maybe even a debate. Even if they start off angry, they're at least talking to you, and if someone just ignores you and moves on, then clearly you have no chance of 'seeking generous donations.'

Devin was not great at any part of his job, though he was just good enough to have survived through it (just) for these eight long months. He stuck with more disorientating questions, "Have you ever wondered how long it would take to drown an elephant?"

Nothing that would anger anyone (though it may distress a few), just something to confuse them long enough to trick them into talking to him. Today he was not on form, and in three hours of digit numbing pacing, he'd successfully been ignored by two or so dozen people on their way in to getting paid to take care of other people's money.

"Hi Mam, have you," Devin hadn't noticed the tears in this young woman's eyes until he was already too close, clipboard shoved in her space. His question lingered briefly on his lips just before she slapped him. No, that wasn't a slap, it was definitely a punch.

He hears her short scream of surprise as he spins, his back giving out, and he finally lands on his knee. Pain rockets outward from the point his knee impacted the sidewalk after driving through four to five inches of snow.

"Fuck...Me!" Devin gasps for air, his clipboard forgotten, lost in the snow as light (refracted off the white snow?) fills his vision. He can hear a voice apologizing, words spilling out in a rush.

"Oh no, oh jeez. I am soooo sorry. I didn't mean, it's just you scared the crap out of me, and I'm just into town, and you didn't make a damn sound, and oh my god are you alright?"

"Yeah (no)."

He takes a few deep, painfully cold breathes, then grunts and finally pushes himself back up.

"See good to go!" There were already tears freezing on his cheeks as he exclaims this a little too loudly. Devin sees her eyes flit from his face down to his legs, sees the moment her expression changes. He looks down himself and sees something splotching through on his knee.

He looks down to the divet he just created in the snow, sees the bright red splashes, "Well, shit."

Devin hates hospitals, although at least during the winter it actually feels almost temperate, when you're not sitting too close to any door people insist on opening to the elements.

He's well aware that he did that exact just a few minutes ago when he first arrived, but somehow when it's somebody it is entirely unnecessary. This is what he's covinced himself of, at least.

He looks back down at the chart, staring again at emergency contact. He's not terribly worried about coverage, Boston, for all its expense, is in the great Commonwealth of Massachusetts, who just so happens to have the best state funded healthcare in the United States (so their governor says).

The woman had gotten him to the hospital. He was genuinely able to hobble himself down to the bus stop, but she had insisted on paying his fare, at least making sure he was okay to get to the hospital. Devin had wanted her to stay, she might get lost making her way back out, or worse stay and fret.

He had told her about the coverage, that he'd be fine now that he was in, and in between twelve hundred other words she'd try to get out all at once he'd managed a muted, "Thank you."

She had laughed at him, nervously, the message finally hitting. She got up, said you're welcome, and left. So he now sat staring at that emergency contact box, realizing he didn't even know her name.

Two hours later he hobbled out of the hospital, knee excessively wrapped in white gauze. They'd found no injury to his patela, just a pretty good amount of skin missing, and he'd kept quiet about his back. That was the last thing he needed right now.

He pauses against a pillar just out front of Mass Gen, he finally pulls his phone out dreading what he's going to see. Sure enough, five missed calls, twenty unread texts, likely almost all from Carla. The boss (the real one, her boss), would have only called once, and his call would not have been kind.

He ignores the text and just calls her. It will be easier to just explain it over the phone instead of trying to answer all the likely increasingly panicked questions she might have had.

"Jesus Devin, where the fuck are you?"

"Wow, start out straight with that? I was hoping for at least a little companionable worry before we got down to business."

"Shut up, you know I was...god dammit, am worried. What the hell happened? Are you okay? Brad is asking about you."

There it was, Brad the Boss, the Real Boss, "I had a little incident. My fault really, scared the ever living crap out of this young woman, definitely a flatlander. She turned, slapped me, and I just fell is all. Busted my knee up good, just got done being patched up at Mass Gen. I was heading back to my spot right now."