The day certainly could have gone better than it was. The morning rush had slowed, and he would soon have to make a decision: to stay on the road or go home for a break.
Both had pros and cons; going home would mean facing his mother, who would chew him out for being lazy and coming to him constantly; he would have the opportunity to rest, pro.
On the other hand, staying on the road would mean a higher probability of getting into trouble, either with the police or gangs, or burning fuel without getting enough passengers to break even, con.
But he had more concerns, he couldn't just go home. He had a loan to pay on the car, and he had to make enough for dinner, breakfast, and maybe an oil change he knew was long overdue. Not to mention the little spice to his life, roast pork which he could enjoy in the evening.
He knew getting enough to afford all of those was impossible, and this knowledge crippled him as his mood soured. Fortunately, he had long learned to maintain a stoic expression while driving as everyone seemed out to get him and a little expressiveness could expose weakness.
Despite the crashing waves of reality in his heart, he kept driving because he had to try. One more time, one more trip. Diverting his focus, he started tuning the stereo to play much-needed distracting music.
"Focus on the road moron," A cold voice from the backseat alerted him to the presence of passengers in the vehicle.
"Wait till I get to my destination before you kill yourself. I have children at home" another voice came from yet another passenger.
It always amused him how little people understood him and how misconceptions made them seem foolish in his eyes. He knew he was focused on the road, and one would argue that anything could happen while driving, this was true. No one understood that more than a taxi driver, however, making the judgment on when was best to turn on the stereo was the driver's alone. And now was best so he did it and set the volume low.
He cared little for the passengers' pleasure or discontent; they had the right to speak, and he had the right to ignore them. He had long learned that passengers were not and could never be friends.
"Pull over here," someone said, and he did. As they got off, they handed over a card, which he put through the card reader, inputting his fee before taking it out and handing it back.
The door closed and he continued, his thoughts far away.
Suddenly, something caught his eyes, a girl waving him down. It was one of the exciting parts of his job, he thought.
He could feel people's presence, or aura, or whatever you believed in. Regardless, he found some to be soothing and enjoyed having their presence in his car. Pulling over by the side of the road, he waited for her to get into the passenger seat beside him before continuing.
He didn't see her face clearly, he didn't need to. Whether she was beautiful or ugly, he didn't care, she was a girl and her presence was soothing. Somewhere within him, he felt that his feelings and thoughts were inappropriate but he gave no voice to that thought.
"I am as God made me," he muttered to himself.
"Sorry?" the girl asked and he turned to take a glance at her with his brows raised.
"I thought you said something," she asked but he simply shook his head in reply.
He had no intention of having a conversation, he wasn't in the mood, he was never in the mood. Certainly not with a passenger, they were temporary. He hated to put a face or personality to the comfort, he didn't want to think of her, he just wanted her to sit there and do nothing.
One might think it was sexual but it wasn't, he simply had this deep-seated belief that females were less confrontational than males. Hence, their presence was peaceful compared to the ticking time bomb that was a male passenger.
He didn't want to talk, he just wanted a peaceful day, but she wasn't interested in peace it seemed.
"I like your hair," she started. Deliberately creasing his brows, he took a second glance at her through the rear mirror and muttered a 'thank you'. She wouldn't be the first, perhaps one of the more outspoken.
Too many times he had heard girls whisper admiration for his hair to their friends in the back seat. He liked it, it made him feel better about himself, but in the grand scheme of things was ultimately inconsequential. Simply put, he didn't care. The only problem was now, he had put a face to the girl, and his interest was piqued.
"Who are you?" the question drifted to the fore of his mind as he registered her beauty. Her white dress made her seem very simple and he liked that in a girl.
And...
Nothing. His interest died, no reason and no logic. She just didn't matter. To him, she was a value, money. To her he was nothing, he didn't exist, and she was just one of the hundreds of people he would meet and interact with today. What he cared most about was the two empty seats in the back.
Not for long though. He soon picked up two passengers, a middle-aged man, and his younger friend.
"Tony messed up this time," the man started. Although it felt more like he continued, Tyrone could tell they had started this conversation long before he stopped to pick them up.
"I know. He should have told her, or at least told her brother," the second man replied, some regret in his tone as he stared out the window of the moving car.
"No! Not that, he should have hidden it better and only called her after the divorce." the tone of the middle-aged man increased as he shifted in his seat.
Tyrone glanced at them through his mirror, and his frown deepened.
"As a man... as a man. Jacob listen, as a man..."
"Here comes trouble," Tyrone reminded himself. Based on experience, the most outspoken people were the most troublesome.