Ebony Angel

The cold slap of an early-morning Chicago winter greeted Ebony as she stepped onto the snow-covered porch. She adjusted her scarf and hat, then gingerly made her way down the icy steps and on the sidewalk.

“You got class dis early?” drawled Meechie, one of the neighborhood lookouts. He stepped from behind a parked van and blocked her path. “It’s still black outside, girl.”

“I can’t talk today. I’m late.” She observed her self-appointed protector in his ragged field jacket and filthy gloves. Drugs had claimed him long ago. Now he spent his days looking out for the police. In exchange for shouting warnings to the drug dealers operating down the block, he received his daily dose.

She inched around him. “Go inside before you freeze your tail off.”

He pulled one of her book bag straps, stopping her in her tracks. “Trae know you out here?” He pointed a bony, gloved finger in the direction of the alley she was headed. “It’s too damn dark for you ta be alone. He ain’t gonna like me lettin’ you go down there. You better get in the house. It can’t be five yet. He ain’t gonna like—”

“I’m not worried about Trae,” she cut in. “Thanks for your concern, but I’m late.” Easing away, she said, “Don’t worry. I’ve lived here my whole life. I’m safe.”

“Maybe I should walk with you?”

An amused smile touched her lips. Meechie moved slower than the line at the bank on the first of the month. How could he protect her? She’d seen dried twigs that weighed more and were stronger. “Thanks, but you’d better stay at your post.” She trudged through the snow-covered lot into the alley with a heavy heart. Meechie was deteriorating so quickly, she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to convince him to go to rehabilitation before it was too late.

As usual, most of the lights were out. She made a mental note to complain to the alderman, again. Someone appeared from between two garages, startling her.

“You got a smoke?” a crackly female voice asked.

Ebony stood under one of the few working streetlights. “Sorry, I don’t smoke.”

The bag lady cocked her head to the side as she crept into the light with Ebony. “Oh.” She leaned forward, squinting. “You a good girl.” She pulled the scarf down from her mouth and raised her ashy fingers, chastising, “Don’t walk down no alley. All these nasty perverts ’round.” She stuffed her hands under her armpits and bounced in place. “Don’t do that no mo’.” She pulled down on her hat and shuffled away.

“Wait a second.” Ebony rushed to the woman. “Take these.” She took off her gloves and handed them to her. “It’s too cold to be outside without gloves.”

The woman’s eyes shot wide open. “Ooo, these dem good insulated ones.” She slipped on one of the gloves. “Oh, there’s fur inside.” She held her hand down and out as she opened and closed her fist. “Warm, and looks good.” Black eyes bright with gratitude, she shook her head. “No one ever gave me such nice finery. Bless you, chile’.”

The woman’s joy at receiving the unexpected gift warmed Ebony’s heart. She smiled. Even if she missed the train, her day wouldn’t be ruined. She resituated her book bag, stuffed her hands into her pockets and ran down the ally, then cut across the park.

Half out of breath, Ebony looked up at the long metal stairway leading to the platform of the Laramie Street el station. Taking the steps two at a time, she suddenly remembered her monthly pass was in her other purse. Praying she wouldn’t break her neck, she ran faster. When she reached the platform, to her surprise, someone was at the transit card machine.

She stood behind and to the side of the man, wondering why anyone would leave home in an expensive cashmere trench coat without hat or gloves in sub-zero weather.

He kicked at the machine. “What is wrong with this stupid thing? It won’t take my cards! It won’t take my money!” He drew the bill back, flattened it and tried to force it into the slot.

His wavy black hair half covered his reddened ears.
Probably frostbitten,
thought Ebony.
And why is a white guy in this neighborhood anyway?
She heard the train approaching. She stepped in front of the man with a $5 bill in hand. “Excuse me.”

“Hey!”

“We’ll freeze to death waiting for you.” She purchased the transit card, then turned to him. “Here you go.” She handed the card over.

Their eyes locked. She had never seen such beautiful smoky blue eyes in her life, and his sexy crooked grin raised her temperature high enough to need central air. The clickety-clack of the train pulling in snapped her out of her trance. “Get going.”

Handing her the card, he shook his head. “I can’t take this.”

The rich timbre of his voice sent her heart racing. She crossed her arms over her chest. “If you don’t move, we’ll both miss the train.” She pretended to tune him out while she dug through her purse for $5. “You still there?”

* * *

Richard Pacini swiped the transit card, then pushed through the turnstile and ran along the platform. At first, he wanted to curse out the long-nailed, rude woman in the warm-looking parka. Then she set her stunning sepia eyes on him, and he melted. Memories of her sweet smell lingered; he inhaled deeply. The cold air burned his lungs, jolting him out of his daydream. He hopped on the train and stood in the doorway.

The conductor stuck his head out of his cubicle’s small window. “Step fully into the train, sir.”

Richard looked back at the turnstile for the young woman. She was still at the transit fare machine. He worried the machine was now giving her as much trouble as it had given him. “Can we please wait a few more seconds?”

“I’m on a time schedule. Step inside.”

“I’m changing cars.” Taking a risk that the man would leave him, Richard hurried along the platform to the conductor’s car and hopped on.

“Next time you pull a trick like that, I’ll close the door and pull off.” The conductor poked his head out the small window, looked both ways, then closed the doors.

“I’m sorry. I was waiting for someone.” Richard chose a seat near the front of the car and watched the streetlights as the train moved down the tracks. He hoped he hadn’t caused her to miss the train. The way she crossed her arms over her chest and the determination in her eyes, told him she wouldn’t accept the transit card. His only choice was to make the train and stall. He would lay odds his great-grandmother had the same fire. His grandfather, Nonno, often reminisced about her beauty, intelligence, kind heart and fire.

“Where do I get on the Red Line?” he asked the conductor.

“Get off at the State Street station. There are signs. You can’t miss it.”

It was only 5:22. Already feeling the long day stretch before him, Richard yawned, leaned forward and dropped his face into his hands.

The automated message announced the next stop. He heard the doors sliding open, and then closing.

“Hola, Oscar.”
Ebony untied her hood, unwrapped her scarf.

“¿Cómo está
, Ebony?”

She walked to the conductor’s compartment, nodded slightly.
“Bien gracias, pero muy frío.”
She held up her hands.

Richard heard bright joking and sat up straight. No matter what language, he would recognize her deep, confident voice and her plush charcoal parka anywhere.

“Where the heck are your gloves?” Oscar asked in English. “Don’t make me call your mother.” The train stopped and doors opened. Oscar leaned out the window and did a visual check both ways.

“If you want to dog me out, dog me out in Spanish, please. I want to be fluent.” She held onto the edge of a seat as the train lurched forward and moved down the tracks. “For a minute there, I thought I had missed you today.” She heaved her book bag around, then plopped it on the seat. “I’m writing down our number. If I had of known giving away my gloves would get you to call, I would have given them away eons ago.”

Richard watched her rummage through the bag for a pen. If she turned, he could see those exquisite eyes again. Oscar seemed a little short and old for her. Richard’s eyes traveled from her boots to her jeans, then stopped at the end of her coat. He used his imagination to fill in the blanks for what lay beneath the parka. He guessed she was slightly over six feet tall.

“I have the number.”

“So why haven’t you called? I’ve told Mom all about you. I even showed her your picture.”

Richard didn’t realize he was smiling until Oscar shot him a knowing look. He stopped smiling instantly, but he couldn’t stop the blood from rushing to his face. He pretended to study the advertisements along the walls of the train.

“I’ll call. I promise. So why were you late?”

“Trolls reset my alarm clock for 4
p.m.
”

Oscar laughed. “Trolls?”

“We have a really bad troll problem. I think I need to call an exterminator.” She unzipped her coat. “Thanks for holding the train for me. I had to switch cars, but I made it.”

He shook his graying head. “You know I love you, but I didn’t hold the train. Some maniac stood in the doorway talking about waiting for his friend.” The automated system announced the next stop. “I need to get back to work.
Adiós
.”