The Cabbie and the Businessman

I wasn't quite sure what to write for my first blog entry, so, at the advice of a a friend, I looked up simple prompts online on which to base a short story upon.  The prompt was "A taxi, and Valentine's Day" and the 500 word story below is the result.

-x-

It was pouring and the businessman raised a newspaper to cover his head as he rushed to the taxi.  He nodded and waved at the driver, flashing him a quick grin as he ducked inside.

“Where to, sir?”

The airport was a mess of people, rushing here and there.  They clogged the streets and huddled in masses under the shades.  They carried flowers and balloons; one could’ve thought a national ceremony was underway.  The business man stopped and thought for a moment and decided that there in fact was.

“Sir?”  The cabbie was an old man, and he had a nearly toothless grin.  A hat lay on his head and, underneath, the businessman could see wisps of white hair.  The businessman—he went by Tommie now—wondered if the old cabbie had anyone to celebrate the day with.

“Uhm, yes.  1738 N Hampton Drive.”

The cabbie nodded and took off.  He maneuvered his way through the throngs of people and Tommie stared at his window, first at the droplets and then beyond at the buildings and bicycles and men and women with umbrellas.

The cabbie looked at his rearview mirror now and again, but if Tommie noticed (he didn’t), he didn’t say anything.  Finally:  “So what’s your story, then?”

Tommie looked at the cabbie’s reflection in the mirror, raising an eyebrow.

“Why, everyone’s got a story today, don’t they?  Lost loves, special anniversaries, declarations of sorts.” 

The businessman shrugged and hugged his briefcase closer.

“Me and the wife go way back—30 years ago to the day, I left a teddy bear an’ note at her doorstep.  She said it was the corniest display of affection she’d ever seen and that a boy had taken her friend to a musical—that that’s what men 'oughta do.  I dun’ know why I married her.”  The cabbie chortled, throaty and deep.

“Oh don’t tell me,” the cabbie continued when the businessman didn’t say anything.  “You’re one o’ them lawyers or brokers that don’t have time for anyone besides yourself.”

Tommie frowned, the skin between his eyebrows drawing close together.  He pursed his lips, and wondered how he’d ended up with such a chatty driver.

For the next 10 minutes, the cabbie hardly stopped for breath.  He told Tommie about his wife’s lasagna and his son’s astronomy degree and his daughter’s reluctance to settle down (“It’s giving me gray hairs, you see!”).  He listed off the five most important reasons to get married and the best restaurant in town. 

When they reached the hotel, Tommie almost stumbled out of the cab, tossing a twenty at the driver.  As he drove away, the cabbie pulled down the window and yelled “Flowers!  Get the girl flowers and you can’t go wrong!”  Tommie stared after the driver and rubbed his temples. 

He decided that he was taking the tube next time.