It was about 12:15 on a warm Thursday night in August. I drove my cab down the street, humming to the tune on the radio as I aproached my detination.
By the time I reached the Sheriton, it had started raining. The windshield wipers slid back and forth in front of my face as the door opened and two passangers crawled in.
"236 Spruce Street," called out the gentleman as he entered.
"Sure thing buddy." I spat out my usual reply as I began driving and listening to the conversation unfolding in the back seat.
"There was nothing wrong with what I did," the gentleman shouted at his companion. She just loked at him, her eyebrows raised.
"He was really asking for it. He shouldn't have been coming on to you like that."
"Oh Tom, he was just being friendly. He didn't want to ignore me."
"No. A wave or a casual hello is being friendly. For him to walk up and give you a back massage like that is not being friendly. It is so much more than that."
"Please don't get so upset about it. You know there's nothing between Jim and me any more."
"If there's nothing between you, then why does he think he can put his hands all over you like that?"
"Tom, sometimes you really over-react," she said and turned to gaze out the window. He just sat there and stared straight ahead, mad.
We stopped at a red light and the resumed their converstaion.
"He just acts that way and he speaks to me like that. I don't want him to be around me and I don't want him to be around you."
"Sometimes I just wish you could be a tiny bit civil to him. After all, I am still friends with him even if you're not."
"Well,, I would prefer that you not be friends with him either.."
"All I ask is that you try to get along with him," she said as she rested her head on his shoulder.
"I don't know how likely that is." They just sat there, sillent, her head on his shoulder and him staring straight ahead for the rest of the ride.