The bus pulled into the terminal with a runaway on board. Waiting passengers straining to see the destination above the windshield probably would not miss seeing two large, brown eyes staring out from a mid-section window. The face was framed by two strands dangling from earpieces tethered to a head of blue-tinted black hair. The mop of spikes and waves swayed in motion.
No one could have known that he went by the name Daniel.
Frost had formed on the window exterior and he could see people’s breath vapors in the cold outside. Seeing blank, pallid faces heightened the haunting, rising tune in his ears. Daniel smiled.
The bus lurched to a halt as he leaned forward. He peered outside, noticing a couple of bums huddled in a corner. An electronic sign’s beverage logo hung high above with one of the letters in a dim, flickering distress. The town looked as broken as he felt inside. Daniel closed his eyes to immerse himself in the bittersweet song.
When the driver pulled the lever to open the doors, Daniel stayed put. The driver arched his back, muttering the name of the destination. No one paid attention. Passengers had nestled during what had been a daylong leg of the journey. This stop wasn’t on anyone’s itinerary. It wasn’t on Daniel’s. The next stop was his final destination.
Daniel was 17.
He had fled the house where he’d lived, slipping out the night before after grabbing a coat and disappearing into the darkness. He’d wrapped a scarf and tucked it into his collar before pulling a yellow knit cap over his ears to cover a head of black hair tinted with navy blue. With a duffel bag in hand, he’d walked to a bus station and bought a ticket for as far as he could afford.
While others shifted, groaned and made way for new passengers as cold air swept in, Daniel settled in his seat and got to thinking. He knew he couldn’t afford to dwell on what had happened last night. He also knew he couldn’t afford to ignore what had happened. Not now, he thought as the driver loaded luggage in the undercarriage. Daniel focused on finding a place to sleep. That, he reasoned, was more pressing than what happened last night.
Several weeks ago, someone had offered to host Daniel, who had met the man at a nightclub where Daniel bussed tables. They’d exchanged friendly glances. Daniel had mocked a spectacle on the dance floor, exaggerating moves to the music, which made the stranger smile. He invited Daniel back to his hotel.
Daniel had considered the man’s proposal. The stranger seemed upright to Daniel, who had seen him there before. The man would nod and gather empty glasses to make it easier to clear the table. When the man smiled at him, Daniel had noticed his gentle, hazel eyes and replied that he’d be off soon. They agreed to meet at the curb. When they met after Daniel’s shift ended, the stranger hailed a taxi. They rode to the man’s hotel.
It’s not that no one wouldn’t notice that Daniel didn’t come home. His parents had more pressing matters—jobs, problems and pain they medicated—and Daniel knew he was not a priority. Riding in the taxi, he knew that the night offered temporary reprieve. Daniel also knew that he had been noticed and wanted. He knew, too, that he liked it.
The next day he sat across from the man, whose name was Jacques, at a table on the sidewalk outside the hotel. They’d talked about their lives. Jacques, who was visiting on business, had a wife, though not anymore. He was handsome, productive and it was clear from what he said that he thought Daniel was an adult. Before they parted, Daniel took his number and agreed to consider Jacques’s offer to stay if he came to visit.
Daniel was heading there now.
Daniel hated his school, which he’d discovered had warped the ability to learn. He hated his family, which he’d realized did not provide what he knew he needed. He was starting to hate the world. Daniel knew that he was young. He was not sure whether he hated the world. He knew only that he wanted to learn and to know what it means to live in it.
This is why he ran, he thought, watching a bum bundle himself against the cold. As the driver boarded the bus to sit down, pull the lever and restart the motor, Daniel felt his stomach stir. As the bus left the station, he pulled a city guide from a coat pocket. He read and studied it through the night.
When he looked outside again, the sky was orange and pink. As the bus turned into a wide curve, Daniel caught sight of a glimmering city. The skyline glistened in blinding, synchronized bursts of gold as sunlight reflected on glass and steel skyscrapers like bars on a xylophone illuminating buildings one by one. His mouth fell open. His eyes went wide.
Over the hum of the bus motor on that morning dawn, Daniel devised a plan. He would call Jacques, accept the invitation and pledge to pay rent. Then, he’d look for work. If he succeeded, he’d have enough money for food, a bank account and rent.
The bus arrived at a large terminal. Daniel disembarked, making a fist around the handle on his duffel bag, heading toward the center, strands of black and blue hair poking from underneath his yellow knit cap. He soon found himself in the middle of a bustling, cavernous hub.
He didn’t stop as much as slow down, bathed in sunbeams from high above, surrounded by hordes of travelers. I am here, he thought, this moment is real. He felt like laughing or dancing or both. Daniel stood, looking up as he turned around. Travelers nearly sideswiped him from every direction and, suddenly, Daniel felt a queer sensation—flush with the awareness that he had reason to be afraid—that his life was abruptly, wholly up to him. Just as he caught his breath, someone rammed him, knocking him off balance.
Serves me right, he thought, chuckling, righting himself and walking toward an exit. He called Jacques, who was out of town, from a public phone, making arrangements with the landlord, whom Jacques had said was there and could provide a spare key.
When the landlord let him in, Daniel saw that Jacques’s apartment was small. A long, slim floor-to-ceiling window overlooked the neighborhood. After Daniel set his bag down, he stood gazing out the narrow window at the avenue below. The sky was gray with clouds that amplified a cacophony of wailing sirens, squeaky brakes and blasting horns.
The city summons, he thought.
Grabbing the guidebook he’d marked for job prospects during the bus ride, Daniel pulled on his yellow cap and went out.
Most refused his work application. One woman chased him out before he could inquire, bellowing, “out of the way, kid, I got a business to run!” After hours of canvassing, a manager at a busy café asked if he had experience as a busboy. Daniel said yes and was hired. The pay was low, so he took the job offer and kept looking. While walking along the waterfront, Daniel came upon an industrial building with a discotheque. With three bars on two levels and a spiral staircase, the place smelled of liquor and ammonia. One of the owners spotted Daniel and assumed he worked there. He told Daniel to start prepping for happy hour. Daniel grabbed a dishrag and did.
A short time later, a manager in a sleeveless denim jacket noticed him and asked, “you new here?” Before Daniel could answer, she said, “You’re fast.” She told him: “From now on, you’re lead barback. Be here every night at eight except Mondays. We pay in cash at closing.” She paused, giving Daniel the once-over.
“You dance?” Seeing Daniel’s puzzled look, she explained, “we ask some staff to dance. It entertains customers and gives them a reason to stay and drink. Relax, it’s nothing raunchy. We pay a bonus. Plus tips.” Daniel thought for a moment. “Yes,” he replied—and he said it fast. He wasn’t sure but he was pretty sure she’d smiled. “Name’s Agatha,” she said. “Call me Aggy.”
Aggy told him to climb on top of a riser every night after his shift. During the first week, Daniel earned enough in tips to cover a month’s bus fare. People liked watching Daniel dance.
People liked Daniel. One night while doing laundry after work, he met Jojo and Lola, a couple from a faraway land where countries had names he couldn’t pronounce. Daniel talked about city life while Jojo nodded, Lola giggled and the three of them folded laundry. The couple told him they were new to the country, staying with too many relatives, and said that they planned to move into their own studio apartment. They were thrilled when Daniel asked if they needed help. Afterwards, Lola cooked an exotic meal, which they ate on paper plates while sitting on a fifth floor fire escape.
During the day, Daniel bussed tables at the café near a bus stop. The disco and laundromat were farther from Jacques’s apartment. Daniel had two jobs, some cash and friends who’d made a home-cooked meal. Daniel felt lucky.
He became known to neighborhood prostitutes. Three of them stood near the bus stop every afternoon when he left for work at the cafe. They called themselves Sugar, Candy and Sassafras. They were often there when he came back from the disco after dark.
“Hi, honey…!” They hollered from across the avenue while he waited for the bus. “How you doin’, baby?”
“Good!” Daniel called across traffic, sizing them up. “How’re you?”
“The name’s Sugar, honey,” said a woman with an ample bosom and round butt tightly fitted into her clothes. “It’s slow, but Sugar’s gotta eat,” she said. “What you doin’ out here, child?”
Daniel smiled, showing his dimple. He shrugged and said: “Daniel’s gotta eat, too.”
“Don’t I know it,” interjected Candy, hands on her hips. “Boy, you could make some money out here.” Sugar shook her head. Sassafras posed for traffic.
Candy yelled to Daniel across the avenue: “C’mon over here! Talk to Candy Cane. I’mma tell ya ‘bout payin’ some bills!”
Candy was the one in charge. She was the homeliest of the three. She wore garish make-up, topped by an oversized, red afro wig with shiny pink stockings rising up to a ruby red miniskirt. Her purple nail polish sparkled under the streetlight.
“I’m fine,” he said. “I take the compliment, though.”
The ladies howled as Candy shook her finger.
“I’mma git you!!” Candy called as the bus pulled up. Sassafras waved goodbye as Daniel boarded. “Bayh-bayh!”, she sang, a golden Cleopatra-style wig shimmering as she did.
Daniel straightened his posture as he moved through the packed bus, drawing his coat in tighter, trying to look bigger. Someone usually had an eye on him. He knew that having tinted hair didn’t help. Daniel had reason to be on guard. His pockets were full of cash.
The pace of city life was fast. Daniel worked hard to keep up. When he wasn’t working, he browsed a used bookstore near the laundromat and bought tattered biographies, which he read on the bus, or he went grocery shopping, which, for Daniel, was more like grocery browsing. He kept company with Jojo and Lola. The couple appreciated his help and took an interest in Daniel, peppering him with questions in broken English. Sometimes, they asked about family. When they did, Daniel looked down, folded laundry and didn’t answer.
Bussing tables was exhausting. He hustled to keep up with turnover, navigating tight spaces between tables to load and pile dishes into a bin he carried to a steamy kitchen. He enjoyed working at the disco, where he bussed tables, too. His favorite time was midnight, when he stepped on the riser.
Daniel danced with sharp, then slow, then fast moves. The routines were pointed, playful and always on cue. He rolled his head to a saxophone solo. He shifted his feet and shoulders to a drumbeat. He turned, stepped and made each dance his own.
His audience would gather, grow and watch in a kind of trance, most standing with drinks held in midair. Some were curious. Some looked with desire—a few with contempt—at the youth with wide, brown eyes and blue-black hair. Daniel danced with an air of amused detachment.
Patrons filled a tin tip bucket. Afterwards, he hopped down as admirers slipped him strips of paper with scribbled names and numbers Daniel didn’t call. The only one he phoned was Jacques—until one day when Jacques said something unexpected.
Jacques told Daniel that he couldn’t have Daniel at the apartment anymore. Jacques explained that the landlord asked questions Jacques was unable to answer. He couldn’t afford to risk losing the lease, Jacques said. He told Daniel he hoped he’d understand.
“Of course I do,” Daniel said, taking a breath. “You’ve been generous. I’ll be out tonight.”
After a short silence, Jacques asked if he had somewhere to stay. Daniel answered that he had a place in mind.
This was partly true. He had fantasized about living in a penthouse. After he hung up, Daniel stood and gazed out the long, narrow window. He saw Sugar talking to a man parked in a car at the corner and he listened to the traffic. The city had beckoned him—Jacques, the café, the disco, the prostitutes, Jojo and Lola,—and, again, Daniel thought: I’m lucky.
Groping for certain thoughts to replace his worries, as Daniel reviewed his gratitude, including his plans to meet Jojo and Lola after work that night, his mind drifted into imagination. This time, he conjured a rooftop under moonlight overlooking a metropolis. He let the illusion linger.
Daniel’s fantasy did not include two menacing-looking men Daniel had seen a couple of times by the bus stop—he’d seen them checking him out—about whom he’d forewarned Lola and Jojo. The bigger man bore a neck tattoo with the term T-Bone in calligraphy. The taller, slimmer man carried a knapsack of jewelry (which Daniel figured was stolen) and had a tattoo on his forehead reading: Slam. Lola and Jojo had told Daniel to stay away from the tattooed men.
Daniel could not have known that T-Bone and Slam were a block from the corner where Sugar, Candy and Sassafras were cashing out to their pimp. He shoved his cap into the duffel bag, left the spare key on the counter and walked out of Jacques’s apartment, closing the front door.
Daniel had bagged what he owned when he emerged in front of the apartment building and saw his bus pull up. Darting from the stoop to catch the bus, he caught a glimpse of Sassafras talking with her pimp while Candy lit Sugar’s cigarette. Too late for the bus, which had pulled away, Daniel backtracked and sat down, pulling his bag in closer as he waited for the next bus.
His mind went to the penthouse. This time, the illusion included a hot feast, which reminded Daniel that he was hungry. This led to thoughts of food, clearing dishes, getting to the cafe for work and meeting Lola and Jojo afterwards.
Daniel looked across traffic and saw Candy standing alone. He looked for Sugar and Sassafras and figured he must have missed seeing them pick up tricks. Tonight, Candy was stuffed into magenta stockings and a lime green miniskirt wearing a fur-lined jacket and the highest heels he’d seen. He caught a glimpse of the two men approaching Candy as he turned to see if another bus was coming.
He was estimating the cash Candy took in when he heard the familiar call: “Hey, honey!”
“Hi, Candy!” He yelled, while searching for the bus.
“I’mma tell our friend ‘bout you,” she teased.
Daniel saw Candy’s eyebrow arch. “Oh, really?” He teased back. “What about me?”
“How’s you cute, fine meat. How’s you could make money.”
Above traffic, he heard the word ‘money’. So did the two men who passed Candy and were moving toward him, crossing at the light. Daniel shrugged it off. Talking with Candy Cane was bound to get noticed. Daniel was used to being noticed.
“I’ll think about it,” he said. As he did, he saw a change in Candy’s facial expression.
Daniel noticed that the men were staring at him. Their pace quickened. Daniel had seconds to decide what to do. He knew his limitations. He calculated the possibilities. He ran. T-Bone and Slam reached the bus stop as Daniel took off. They saw a blue-haired kid grip his bag and sprint down the sidewalk.
They sprang into a dash.
Candy Cane yelled: “Stop! Leave the child alone!!” She turned her head, cupped the corners of her mouth with her hands and screamed: “Run, honey!” Then, she screamed louder: “RUN!!!”
Something in Candy’s voice made Daniel’s heart race and he turned. In his peripheral vision, he saw that they were gaining on him. Daniel was fit. He rounded a corner and cut through an alley, emerged and crossed another street. His mind raced. I must be an easy mark, Daniel thought. I’ve got to fix that, came the second thought.
The neighborhood was desolate except for an all-night diner. Looking over his shoulder, Daniel entered, heading toward the back, going into the men’s room, where he ducked into a stall, hanging his duffel bag on a hook and latching the door. Daniel sat down. He pulled his knees into his chest. He slowed his breathing.
What had happened at the house flashed into his mind. Daniel pushed the memory out, choosing to not think about it. This time, a new thought came to Daniel. He figured he should focus on finding a place to stay. He knew he was late for work and couldn’t hide in a men’s room.
Daniel listened as men came and went, alert to the sound of more than one set of footsteps. Two men entered, finished and left. Someone lingered or preened before a scratched mirror, it was hard to tell which. After a few minutes, the men’s room was clear, or so Daniel thought. He listened, slowly lifting his duffel bag off the hook. He listened again and unlatched the door.
Pushing it open, he saw that the men’s room was nearly empty. Slipping past an old man drying his hands, Daniel went out the door and through the diner, pausing on the sidewalk outside and looking both ways. With no one in sight, Daniel made an exit.
He had been thinking of what he would say for why he was late to work when T-Bone’s fist slammed into his jaw. Daniel swung at air. Fists pounded, one after another. Daniel heard something snap. He tasted blood and his head felt moist. His bag was ripped away.
Daniel kicked, punched and flailed. T-Bone had him pinned. Slam did the pounding.
They tore at him. When they found a wad of bills, Daniel heaved with both legs and kicked outward, sending T-Bone back on his heels. That’s when he heard the click. Beaten and swollen, Daniel dug into his pocket and tossed the bills. This, he thought, is everything.
Daniel was wrong, which he realized when he heard a pop and felt something warm. As he saw the pair disappear around a corner, everything started to blur. His blue-black hair in bloody clumps and knots, Daniel went limp on the sidewalk. His body rolled into the gutter.
As he did, he invoked another vision. In this one, a man dressed in a tuxedo guided Daniel into a dance. They swept across the rooftop, gliding to buoyant music in sweeping turns, pivots and arcs, illuminated by city lights. Daniel knew he was bleeding to death. He felt cold.
Hearing sirens as he curled against the curb clutching his side, Daniel thought about what had happened at the house where he’d once lived. If he were to die, he thought, he should let go of that pain and make peace with having been forsaken by his family for being gay. This Daniel did.
He thought only that his escape had been worth even this. I am here, he thought, this moment is real. As daylight dawned, Daniel felt himself slipping and realized that his plan gone wrong proved that he was not yet fit for life on his own. His last thought was that he wanted to be.
Daniel felt himself shudder as his eyelids came down.
When he awakened, Daniel was looking up at faces he liked. Lola erupted in a chirp when his eyes opened, then, she giggled before she kissed his hand. Jojo smiled, gripped Daniel’s other hand and gently put his hand on Daniel’s bandaged head. They had alerted police when Daniel didn’t meet up. A bulletin went out. A police officer tracked an eyewitness account to where Daniel was struck down.
Standing over his slender, twisted body were Sugar and Sassafras, looking grim but concerned in smeared makeup. They made way for Candy, hips swinging as she pushed everyone aside, saying “lemme at him” and moving in for closer inspection. Candy pushed the matted hair from his face. “Hey, honey,” she whispered in a low, husky voice, “you run good.” Police arrived, asking everyone to step back.
Daniel moaned as the stretcher was lifted and loaded into the ambulance. Jojo’s grip held, tightened, then released. While being fastened into place, Daniel heard a cop’s voice ask for his name and address.
Jojo spoke up: “Daniel live with us.”
Before the ambulance doors closed, he raised his head and saw Lola’s stern face, streaming with a teardrop. She looked at him and lifted her chin. At her side was Jojo, pulling her closer. Sugar, Candy and Sassafras were there, too, watching his departure.
As the ambulance pulled away with a runaway on board, no one, including Daniel, who would eventually come to understand, could have known that running away that night had spared Daniel from hating the world—and from becoming a runaway for his whole life.