Morning Glory

            by Jacob Shandling

 

            Sandy Holland was satisfied with her life. It was simple, rewarding, and enjoyable. Each day she rushed out of her small apartment in Hayward, CA and ran the four blocks to the BART station, where she barely made her five forty-five Richmond-bound train. She relaxed for the thirty-four minute ride to the downtown Berkeley station, where she got off her train at six nineteen, sprinted up the stairs, quickly passed her ticket through the turnstile, and out of the station. After a walk around downtown, she bought a coffee from Peet’s, and went back down the large escalator into the BART station.

            She found Berkeley to be a much nicer and more suitable place than Hayward, but the high costs prevented her from living there. Running a flower shop in the downtown Berkeley BART station didn’t rake in quite the sum needed to live comfortably in Berkeley, so Hayward made do.

            She couldn’t help but wonder why anyone would take such a worthless job as a BART information booth operator. While yes, her job was also monotonous and somewhat boring at times, at least she got to interact with more than just people who were upset about something, having a problem, or just getting information out of her, although these types were frequent customers in her store as well.

            Sandy had never really talked to the information booth operator Eugene Karder, nothing more than a friendly “hello” or a “good morning” as she got to her store each day. Despite the proximity in which the two worked every day, they had never really found the chance to connect. Sandy stayed in her store most of the day, smiling at the many people who walked by, looking at her flowers as they did so, and selling a few to the occasional rushed lover or spontaneous hippy that actually dropped into the shop. Eugene went in and out of his station, sometimes going over to one of the two other stations to talk to his partners, sometimes disappearing to somewhere else in the station, busy with whatever a man of his position could be busy with.

            Eugene had always seemed to Sandy like a passive, yet present and mysterious person. Yet she had seen the occasional stuck up passenger drive Eugene into a rage with the “problems” they might be having with some aspect or the other of BART. He obviously had anger problems, but lots of will power to control it. Each morning when she passed his booth, they exchanged greetings, her with a broad smile across her face, but he with apathetic body language, barely acknowledging her with his facial expression. Yet his eyes, a brown so dark as to make the pupil and iris fuse into one large, dark pit, always followed hers, gleaming with the intensity of one alert as a fox. Yet perched in his booth, he made as little physical movement as possible. Quite an intriguing, mysterious, off-putting, dull character according to Sandy, if that makes sense. Yet Sandy always heeded his off-putting and dull side, never initiating a conversation. He seemed to her to be a living security camera, taking in everything around him, yet unmoving, seemingly uninterested in what he saw, just observing.

             Near the end of a long day of slow business, a young man came into her shop.

            “Hello, how may I help you?” she greeted him. He was looking for three roses and a lily.

            “Right over here sir, you may pick out the ones that you like the most,” she said, indicating two buckets full of each type of flower.

            “Thanks,” he said. They headed over to the cash register.

            “That will be twelve fifty please.” The man handed her a clump of ones. “Oh, sorry sir, you’ve accidentally handed me picture,” she said, holding out a picture of a young woman he had handed her with the clump of ones.

            “Oh. Yeah, that’s my girlfriend. She’s a beauty, I must say. Why don’t you keep it, it will go well with your flowers.”

            “Oh, thank you,” Sandy replied slowly. What a strange thing, he gave me a picture of his girlfriend she thought, somewhat weirded out by the gift.

            The next morning, Sandy gasped for air as she emerged from the BART station and her “sprint” up the stairs, or at least as much of a sprint as a six and a half month pregnant woman could muster up. Sandy refused to let herself get out of shape just because of her baby. She began her usual morning stroll around downtown, walking down through MLK Park, around the high school, and back up to Shattuck. She walked down Shattuck, until she was in front of Starbucks. Sandy had never gone to Starbuck’s on principle, but as she glanced in the window, there sat the young man from the previous day, drinking a coffee and reading the paper. She decided to go in and say hello. Sorry, Peet’s.

***

            A few weeks later, Sandy was enjoying a nice crowd of people in her shop, all merry and giddy with the coming of spring, and all interested in flowers for what Sandy could only assume was their celebration of the coming of mating season. And out of the crowd came someone she never had expected.

            “Hi, I’ve seen you around here for years, but we’ve never actually met. I’m Eugene,” he said quickly, holding out his gritty, calloused hand. Sandy was so surprised that Eugene had actually come over to introduce himself that she had to take a step back.

            “Oh wow. I’m Sandy,” she replied.

            “Yeah, nice to finally meet you,” he said in a shaky voice. A shy guy Sandy thought. “Feel free to come ta––“

            “Hi! I was just wondering if you have any, like, daffodils,” a young girl cut into their conversation. “Or, like, bouquets with scattered morning glories, ya know, the little ones with––“

            “Yes, I know what morning glories are,” Sandy responded in as shaky a voice as Eugene’s had been. “Sorry about that Eugene, why don’t I come over to your booth and we can chat in a little while.”

            “O…Okay,” he stammered and walked off. Sandy regained her self-control and confronted the woman.

            “Now, which would you like, daffodils or the morning glory bouquet, I have both.”

            “Wow, I totally can’t decide.”

            “I’ll get the morning glories. They look nicer anyway.”

            “Ya ok cool that sounds like a plan,” the ditz said.

***

            No one had been able to see whoever had pushed young Anny Regent onto the tracks. No one person could be distinguished through the throngs of people going in and out of the BART station in the middle of rush hour. Anny had fallen down onto the tracks, and then tripped on her purse as she tried to quickly get up, falling again onto the electrified third rail. Was it murder? Was it an accident? The police had no leads, no clues, and no idea as to what had happened, so they had quickly dropped the case.

            Sandy had her worries. Beginning right after the death, each morning when she came to work, Eugene no longer acknowledged her at all. Any courage he had had in making the first move with her had quickly disappeared. Eugene did not even look in the direction of her store. And it scared her. Had Eugene seen something to do with the murder? Had he seen the culprit getting away or something? Maybe he had seen whoever it was take the elevator up to street level; maybe he had seen a suspicious person coming into the station, because as they say, a criminal always returns to the scene of the crime. Sandy didn’t feel safe, and she didn’t like it. So she decided she needed to do something. If her unborn baby were to have a decent future, she couldn’t let anything happen to her.

***

            Sandy walked up the stairs this time, her baby too big to even attempt a run anymore, but as she emerged onto Shattuck Avenue, she was panting all the same. She made her walk down through the park, around the high school, and back up to Shattuck. Today, she decided to go to Starbuck’s again. When she returned to her shop, she barely caught Eugene hurrying off into one of the employee only doors that passengers never seemed to notice as they walked past. Sandy had never seen Eugene in such a hurry for anything, so she immediately got worried. She quickly dropped her backpack off in the shop, grabbed everything she would need to pick all the evidence she could, and followed him.

            Eugene ended up in the employee only men’s bathroom. Sandy walked in behind him.

***

            Eugene had seen Sandy hurry in his direction as soon as she emerged from her shop after only seconds within it. He hadn’t had time to pee before leaving his apartment that morning, so was in a desperate hurry to get to the bathroom as soon as possible.

            He threw open the employee bathroom door, ran to a stall, and leaked. He heard the door open again. Did that crazy lady actually follow me in here? he thought. It must be a janitor or something. As soon as he was done, Eugene cautiously opened the stall door. There was Sandy, poised to strike.