These Lonely Streets

"Can you sit still for even a minute?"

Jaycee eyed Randy a bit angrily, her large brown eyes criticizing his every move.

"Not today!" Randy exclaimed excitedly. "Cory's back!"

"I'm just as happy, I assure you," Jaycee began, "but please, relax a bit until we can officially celebrate later."

Randy chuckled and gave me a quick, one-armed hug in the back seat of James's F-350, the energy radiating from him enough to make anyone smile.

Only thing was, I just couldn't smile today.

I pressed my face against the cool glass of the window after Randy pulled back. I needed to relax from the heavy atmosphere in the truck cab. James was relatively silent with the exceptions of a few chuckles here and there. Goliath sat beside James in the front, in the "seat" that so conveniently doubled as a cup holder. Buster called shotgun, and Randy and Jaycee hung in the back with me. The world whipped by my eyes, news bits that I had never seen before and then some that were familiar. The roads of Pennsylvania were slowly disintegrating as we headed toward Philadelphia, one city away from home.

Trees whirred past in blurs of browns and greens until we finally swerved off the highway and into the bustling city. Suddenly, tall, gray and tan brick buildings were surrounding the truck, each one equipped with fire escapes, multiple floors, and at least one loads worth of clothes hanging from the rails and swaying in the breeze.

A chill ran through my spine; not because it was cold in the truck, but because I knew I was a few miles from home at this point. I had not had such a joyous feeling for what felt like an eternity that I seemed to perk up a little (on the inside, at least). My eyes scanned every street corner crowded with people from every race, the city of brotherly love greeting me after all this time. Although this city didn't house me, it was what I liked to refer to as my second place of residence.

James wove through the busy Thursday evening traffic, mumbling curses under his breath at all "the fucking idiot drivers that need to get the fuck off the road". Above us lingered the ashen clouds that had moved in as we neared home. Pittsburgh had been fairly sunny and bright, but I welcomed the overcast as though it were my long lost sibling. I curled myself up into the backseat, wishing were we already over the bridge instead of trying to mesh into the right lane just to get there. The Ben Franklin Bridge loomed in the distance, its light blue structure rusted with age and pride. From the street we were stopped at, I could pick out the cars and trucks driving across to reach Jersey, my aching heart wanting nothing more than to be in one of those cars at this very moment.

"Hey, why don't we stop at Ben's for a cheesesteak, eh?" Randy asked aloud, giving my arm a playful nudge. "Bet you've missed that."

"No," I stated flatly. "Just keep going."

"Aw, why?" Randy pouted.

"I don't want one."

"For real?"

"For real."

Randy shot me a glance, as though he were asking what kind of brainwashing facility I'd been stuck in for a year. The brainwashing part? Yeah, that seemed about right. I looked away from Randy as soon as the wheels of the truck picked up beneath us, my eyes glued to the world outside. People rushed along sidewalks, my eyes easily able to spot our allies and enemies. Well, the average people that lived around here stood out, too, but my eyes tended to focus more on those we could trust and those we could not.

Everyone had the same basic attire: jeans and T-shirts for the guys, and shorts and whatever skimpy top was available for the girls. Of course the overcast contributed to the humidity of the weather, but August was slowly winding down into September with each passing day even if the temperature was still well in the high eighties.

After a few more moments, a few more curses out of James while dodging cars, and a few more beats of my aching heart, James was finally able to merge into the lane for the bridge and we were headed up with each passing inch. My body tingled with excitement, even though I sat still in the seat and refused to let a smile ease its way onto my lips. I pressed my forehead against the glass, staring out at the boats that zipped through the Delaware River below, leaving trails of short, rapid waves that died out as they spread.

The contours of New Jersey and Pennsylvania looked as though they could fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. Jersey's coastline was riddled with factories that spewed puffy white smoke from their towers as well as old ships that were out of use. The Battleship New Jersey stood out, and I remembered the time I slept over on the ship for an eighth grade trip. I studied the details of the river and the land carefully, seeing what had changed over the year. There wasn't much, but the river looked more blue-gray and crowded with boats than before. Couldn't blame them since the season was slowly ending. Following the mess of factories came the inevitable collaboration of office and apartment buildings, streets, highways, and sidewalks, and the entire city I called home.

We soon arrived onto land again, the ever popular Tweeter Center dwelling in the distance on the Camden Waterfront while the aquarium loomed just under the bridge. As we broke away from the busy highway lanes, apartment complexes meshed with tall office buildings sprung up from the ground again. My face was still clinging to the window to admire every bit of Camden, even though outsiders probably saw nothing worth their while here. They were right, however, but everyone in the truck and myself could see what lay under the layers of the bustling city.