Taxi Service

Careless

Earnest met the first type of person on a Tuesday morning in April, on the outskirts of Central Park.

Earnest remembered that it had been a rainy day — raining in the sense that it was wet enough that sports games would be canceled, but not heavy enough to cause people to remain indoors. Such a fact would be fleeting to anyone else, but Earnest had an ability that only few in his life knew about: he could recall any event in his past at the precise moment in time.

Most might assume that Earnest had a photographic memory, but he knew it was really chronophobia (also known as extreme anxiety about the passage of time). Still, his impulsive watch-checking over the years had resulted in a uniquely punctual internal clock, which Earnest had to admit he actually found quite useful.

For instance, this encounter occurred at precisely 8:23 AM on April 11th, 2015 at the corner of W 97th St, Central Park, New York.

Earnest was driving slowly, keeping pace with traffic and occasionally checking his mirrors for pedestrians or sudden moving cars. Many who entered his car were surprised to see him as their taxi driver, eyebrows raising as they took in his youthful appearance. People commonly thought that he was a college student, when in fact, he had never finished college, having dropped out of NYU his sophomore year and working as a fully licensed cab driver for the past year-and-a-half instead. He had even tried growing a beard to make himself look older, but all he could manage was a patchy five o'clock shadow.

Earnest rubbed his face, not enjoying the prickling feeling on his cheeks, when he caught movement from the corner of his eye. On the curb stood a man in his early thirties, wearing muddy cleats and a matching blue soccer uniform. He held his duffel bag over his head as he desperately tried to flag down a taxi. Earnest indicated, then pulled up to the side of the curb. The sopping man eagerly yanked the cab door open, climbing into the back seat and sealing himself away from the harsh elements outside.

"Where to?" Earnest inquired politely, once the man was settled in his seat and had finally taken a grateful breath of air.

"The nearest pub that serves a good pint of beer," the man said wearily, ignoring his seat belt and plopping his soggy bag on the seat next to him.

Earnest nodded. Thanks to his impeccable memory, he knew the layout of New York like the back of his hand. He knew that there was a little dive just around the corner that would probably suit the man's fancy. However, there was also a bar a couple miles farther south, and after some thought Earnest sheepishly decided on the latter. He had this month's rent to worry about, after all.

"How was the game?" Earnest asked, trying to dispel the stillness in the air.

"Awful. Just awful," the man said, rummaging through his bag. "We were losing five-nil, and then the game was called halfway through due to the rain."

"I'm sorry," Earnest said, trying to empathize while switching lanes simultaneously. "That must be a tough blow."

"Eh, nothing to cry about." The man pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. "We weren't league or anything. Mind if I smoke in here?"

Earnest glanced at him briefly through his rear view mirror, checking to see if he was serious, before he gestured to the plaque behind his head. "I'm afraid it's against the rules."

"Aw, c'mon. It'll be just one," he insisted, placing a cigarette in his mouth and fumbling with his lighter. "How old are you anyway, nineteen? Aren't you a bit young to be a cabby?"

Earnest took a long breath of air and quietly let it out before he answered. He got this question a lot, so much so that he was considering laminating his birth certificate to the back of his seat.

"Twenty-three, actually, so no, I am not." He said, almost monotonously. "But I am going to have to insist that you put that away, or I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to exit the vehicle."

The man stared at Earnest, irritated. But then he sighed, throwing the cigarette pack and lighter back into his bag. "It's ruined anyway."

Earnest returned his gaze to the ongoing traffic as the air once again filled with silence. It was one of the things he hated the most about being a taxi driver; most passengers would rather sit quietly than engage in conversation. Earnest thought of himself as a chatty person, and thus found the silence quite intimidating.

They arrived at the pub more quickly than Earnest expected. He pulled alongside the curb, turning his torso around to face the man. "That'll be sixteen dollars."

The man grumbled, digging through his wallet and handing Earnest a moist twenty. Earnest took it gingerly between two fingers, the paper drooping to one side.

"Keep the change," the man said, fumbling with the door handle before exiting the cab.

Earnest watched silently as the man jogged towards the pub, a hand held uselessly over his head to block the oncoming drops of rain. Earnest would give anything to grab a beer, but he sighed and moved the gear shift into reverse. He just happened to glance at his back seat in the process, and what he saw made him groan in frustration. Soaking his leather seats was the man's forgotten sports bag.

Earnest put the car in park and took his keys out of the ignition, grabbing the soggy bag from the backseat and jumping into the rain.

"Hey!" Earnest called, turning up his jacket collar and throwing an arm over his head. "You forgot this!"

If Earnest was being completely honest, which he usually was, the other reason he so clearly remembered this day was because at that particular moment, something spectacular happened. At precisely 8:53 AM that morning, his eyes were graced by Madelyn Moore for the very first time.

She stood outside a fancy restaurant, underneath a wide-brimmed umbrella. Earnest remembered precisely how she was dressed; like a 1920s girl, in a sparkling gold dress with shimmering beaded fringe dangling at her knees. Her blonde hair was styled in an up-do, an emerald green clip pinning her hair at the back of her head. At her side was a well-dressed man, who was speaking close to her ear. He must have said something amusing, because after he had finished she tipped her head back and let out a tinkling laugh.

Earnest couldn't fathom how flawless and timeless she looked — how despite seeming so out of place, glistening gold against the gloomy and rain-drenched streets of New York City, she looked so perfectly in her element. She was enchanting; any man could see that.

Her eyes met his briefly, and Earnest was shocked at how startlingly gray they were. They reminded him of the sky that day: stormy and brooding and wild.

She turned, wrapping a feathery scarf around her shoulders before disappearing into a sleek black car. Her companion snapped his umbrella closed, running around to the other side and joining her. The headlights flashed, and the vehicle sped off.

Earnest didn't know who she was, but he desperately wanted to. A moment later, his wish was granted.

"Well, would you look at that?" The man in the soccer uniform said, appearing at Earnest's side and startling him from his thoughts. "That was Madelyn Moore."

"You know her?" Earnest asked.

The man gave Earnest a bewildered expression. "Are you kidding? She's an up-and-coming Broadway star. Have you not seen Chicago? She's amazing." He sighed, watching the sleek black car retreat around the corner. "She's going to be big I tell ya. But hey, thanks for bringing my bag."

The man took the duffle bag out of Earnest's hands and ducked back into the pub, while Earnest stared longingly down the empty street. His clothes were growing heavy, his dark hair plastered to his face from the rain. But he still couldn't move. All he wanted to do was gaze into those stormy gray eyes again.