Chauffeur For A Day

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

“Ugh….” I fling my arm over so it slaps the top of my alarm clock and the beeping cuts off abruptly.

Ping!

I pick up my phone that’s lying right by my alarm clock on my nightstand and check the notification that just went off. My eyes squint automatically as the bright light blinds me. I blink a few times to let my eyes adjust to the brightness so I can read. It’s just social media. I’ve got quite a few notifications and texts from well wishers, a lot from people I haven’t seen, let alone talked to, in ten years. They probably received a notification, a yearly reminder inviting them to post on my wall. I give them a thumbs up reaction and type out my thanks, giving my body a chance to wake up.

The smell of coffee wafts under my closed door, letting me know my hot bean juice is ready for me to consume. I sit up, swinging my legs off the side of my bed and my hardwood floor instantly freezes my toes. I pad over quickly to my kitchen and pour myself a cup, finding slippers along the way to stop my feet from getting frostbitten.

“Uuuggghhhhh,” I groan while sitting down. Sometimes I feel like my body is aging faster than I am. Maybe I should start working out… All I do is sit on my ass all day. Maybe I can do pushups or situps between rides or something. I’ve lost the abs I had as a teen and early twenty year old that I so took for granted. I’m well on my way to having a dad bod and I am not even a dad!

I sip my coffee, sweetened with oat milk creamer and browse the web, checking the news and seeing what people on social media are up to. An old buddy of mine got engaged last night. I give it a thumbs up and type out my ‘Congratulations man!’. A girl I dated in highschool just had her fourth kid, and I don’t know whether I dodged a bullet or if I should be jealous. And then I get stuck on funny animal videos for the next ten minutes.

My morning routine is sacred. I feel off for the rest of the day if I don’t follow it strictly. I hang out at my table in my tiny kitchen until I finish my cup and start to feel the effects of caffeine. Then I hop in the shower and curse the short shower head for the thousandth time as it sprays just my chest. I hate having to bend my knees to be able to wet my head and rinse my hair. Then I curse myself for not returning my towel to the towel rack yesterday and have to hurry to my bedroom dripping wet, which is thankfully only five feet away. I hunt down my towel that is lying in a heap by my dresser, still damp in some places, and dry off quickly, even though I’m already halfway dry.

I get dressed, and today I fancy it up a little bit with a button-up shirt since I’m having lunch with my parents. Then I head back to the bathroom and play on my phone while I "do my business" in there. As soon as I’m done, I sign in to my Uber account and set myself as ‘active’. I wait for a call by styling my dirty blonde hair, applying deodorant, and judging the reflection in the mirror.

Ping!

My phone going off startles me. I got a call already? Wow. I didn’t even get a chance to judge my reflection yet. Guess I’ll do that in the rearview mirror on the way there. I check where I’m going and my stomach flutters. I’m picking up someone from a rich neighborhood. Awesome. Gonna pick up an entitled old dude who’s going to treat me like dirt just because I don’t have a fancy job, or clothes, or a lot of money. Or maybe it’s a one night stand girl trying to get away. I’m always keen to help them out. I can at least make their morning a bit better by giving them a listening ear and a comfortable ride with hangover remedies and snacks.

I grab my work bag, wallet, phone and car keys and lock my little studio home up. I rush down the stairs, my feet thundering down the shaky metal contraption, probably waking up anyone who might still be sleeping in the building. I don’t have time to feel guilty though as my feet finally hit stable ground.

“G’morning, Mrs. McKinney,” I greet my landlady who’s sitting outside of her front door in a rocking chair, cradling a warm mug of unknown contents. Us tennants like to make bets on what she’s drinking, seeing as she always drinks out of a mug no matter the time of day or event.

“Ah! Good morning darling! You have work already?” She peers up at me through thick spectacles, her gravelly voice reflecting her old age, worn of so much use.

“Yes, Ma’am. Got an early call right off the bat. Hopefully today is busy and lucrative.” I flash her my million dollar smile. Or at least that’s what my mom calls it.

She beams back at me. “You’re such a nice, handsome man. It pains my heart to see you so alone. When are you going to get yourself a nice girl?”

Her words pain my heart. “I’m working on it, Mrs. McKinney. I gotta run though. I’ll see you when I’m done for the day. It’s Tuesday so I’ll be back to watch ‘Medical Mysteries’ with you. Have a good day!” I start to jog through the cracked courtyard.

“Okay dearie. Have a good day. Oh!” Her voice gets extra raspy as she shouts after me. I pause at the gate so she doesn’t have to yell so loud, and turn to face her. “Happy Birthday, Rhett.” She smiles kindly.

My smile is only slightly sad. “Thank you, Mrs. McKinney,” I say, closing the gate behind me and letting my smile fall. Another lonely birthday for me.

I get all set up in my car, my phone on my dash, directing me to my location. My wallet is safely tucked away in my center console, and all of my provisions are stocked and displayed nicely. I have a five star rating for a reason. I set off toward ‘Snob Town’, judging myself everytime I catch my reflection in the rearview mirror and reflect on what Mrs. McKinney said. I mean, it’s not like I choose to be single. I’ve tried. I’ve had a couple girlfriends, but I guess my humble life doesn’t appeal to them after a while, because they always seem to find a more well off man to run off to. I’ve kind of stopped trying. Maybe I should join a couple dating apps…

I get to the neighborhood and feel underdressed just driving through here. All of the houses are so pretentious, but at the same time I dream of owning one myself. Doesn’t everyone though? Dream of having a large house that no matter how many kids you have, you can never fill it? No matter how much unimportant furniture you buy, you still have room for another couch or night stand. That the five cars already parked in the garage are lonely so you can buy another one to keep them company. You have an outdoor AND indoor pool, and a jacuzzi in your upstairs bathroom that you can have three gorgeous women in just because you can. Yeah, that’s everyone’s dream right? Right?

I pull up to the biggest, most pretentious of houses as my phone informs me that I have arrived. Of course it was this house that I’m picking someone up from. I take a deep breath to brace myself. Who knows. Maybe this will be just a simple pick up and drop off. Hopefully they tip me an absurd amount because that’s all they had in their pocket. A man can hope, right?

I message them through the app. “I am here.” And I wait.

I get a quick response. “It will be just a minute. She will have bags.”

She? Bags? Oh, so he got her a ride to the airport? A lot of people are doing that, it’s cheaper than parking your car there for however long they’re gone. Should I get out and help them? Or is he going to be an outstanding gentleman and carry her luggage for her? Then share their bittersweet goodbye while I wait inside the car awkwardly, and then have to listen to her cry all the way to the airport. I do have tissues for such crying occasions. I deal with a lot of emotional women, especially around two o’clock in the morning when the bars close. I don’t particularly enjoy dealing with drunk people, but that’s where the money is at.

I guess I can at least get out and open the trunk for them. Good thing I keep that clean too. I don’t have to store stuff in there often, but I’m glad today I didn’t have anything random in there. Like the one time I left my camping stuff in there for months. Every time I went shopping I was reminded of my laziness and had to shove food in the back seat instead of my trunk.

I pop the trunk and hop out of my car to open it up all the way. I take two steps when I hear the front door open. 'Oh, I’ve got good timing,' I smirk to myself. With my next step the smirk slides right off my face.

“You can’t do this to me!” a shrill scream comes from the front door. My head snaps to the left and I take a second to process what’s unfolding in front of me. There is a man and a woman standing in the doorway, the man on the inside and the woman on the outside. Her luggage consists of a duffel bag, a suitcase, and a backpack, which are all dropped on the floor.

“Yes, I can!” the man shouts back at her. He is not what I pictured. He’s in sweats, a t-shirt and sandals. His black hair is messy but is obviously meant to look that way. I pictured an older man in a suit and slicked back hair.

“This is my house too! I pay for half of everything!” The woman isn’t what I imagined either. She’s not the party girl in a revealing dress from the night before doing the walk of shame. Instead she is the epitome of class and sophistication. Her platinum blonde hair done up in an intricate bun, wearing an elegant flowy dress with matching heels. The outfit looks like it costs more than a year's worth of my rent.

“You know I make more than enough money to cover your half. Now go. Get off my property.” He tries to push her further away from the front door but she does an amazing job standing her ground on those tiny heels.

“This is my property too! My name is on it too!” I can hear her struggling through her words. He is a lot bigger and stronger than her. I should do something, but I’m frozen in the same spot, watching all of this happen without lifting a finger.

“Not anymore, sweetheart. I had it all taken care of yesterday. It’s over!” He puts his hands on her shoulders, spins her around quickly, and then shoves her. Hard.

She goes sprawling down the two steps leading up to her front door, her arms flying out to catch herself, but she still lands roughly on the gravel walkway. The front door slams and the lock slides audibly into place.

I’m already halfway to her. I think I started moving as soon as I saw his intentions, but I don’t recall telling my body to do so. “Hey, are you okay Miss?” I call out, still rushing to her.

She springs up. I can see the fire lit behind her green eyes as she spins around and stomps back up to the front door. She rattles the doorknob, and it unsurprisingly doesn’t budge. She then starts banging on the door with both of her fists.

“Christopher! Open this door now! Today of all days is the day you decide to do this!? Really!?” She waits for a moment and the door doesn’t open, which I didn’t expect it to. I’m at the bottom of the steps now and I can hear her heavy breathing, and see her shoulders rising and falling with each heave. I can almost hear her brain thinking as I watch her hands tighten into fists and then relax, only to tighten up again.

After a minute she raises her fist and knocks more gently. “Chris? Chris, please. If you’re really going to do this, at least let me get my stuff. Please.” Her voice is gentle too, but sounds slightly raspy from her recent screaming bout. “Chris?” she says again.

“Ummm. I don’t think he’s coming out or going to open the door for you…” I say awkwardly. She whirls around, her dress spinning and her heels clacking.

“Who are you?” I expect a glare or a snobby look, but her eyes are clear and her eyebrows are raised in sincerity.

“Umm. Hi. I was, um, contacted to come here and give someone a ride. I work for Uber…” My awkwardness doesn’t subside.

“Really now,” she says dryly, her lips pursed and her eyebrow raises up, looking me up and down. It’s not a cold look, but she looks disappointed. Or annoyed.

My mouth goes kind of dry so I try to swallow some spit. “Um. Yes?” This is really not how I planned my morning going. “D-do you, um. Can I get your bags for you?” I offer, looking at the luggage still on the ground.

She blinks, surprised, and looks at her belongings on the floor around her. “Oh. Yeah. I guess.” Her eyebrows pull together. I look down too, and notice her knees are all scraped up and bleeding, I can see some gravel stuck in one knee.

My eyes snap back up to hers. “Are you okay? I’ve got a first aid kit in my car.” I halfway turn back towards my car, pointing my thumb over my shoulder.

She looks past me at my car. She sighs. “I’m okay, thank you. If you could just get my bags, thank you.” She turns back towards the door. I hesitate, but grab up all three bags.

She knocks again. “Chris, could I just get the console? You know how much it means to me. Please,” she calls through the door. I turn and make a show of taking care of her luggage. It looks like she needs a minute.

I place them strategically in my trunk and then I get into the driver’s seat and wait. I peek out the passenger window at her, and she’s still standing at the front door, knocking occasionally, probably saying things I can’t, and shouldn’t hear.

After five minutes of trying to get the dude, Christopher, to come to the door, she finally gives up. She walks to my car and gets into the back seat, her head held low, sniffling occasionally.

I clear my throat awkwardly, looking at her through the rearview mirror. “So, umm. Where to Miss?”

She locks eyes with me in the mirror. Her eyes are shiny with tears and heavy with sadness. My heart squeezes. “Anywhere but here. Just drive. Please.”