taxi

Out of habit, I thanked my cab driver after I gave him directions. The plexiglass divider between the driver's seat and the back seats was pulled shut. He said something that came out muffled. I said, What? He said it again, again muffled. I said, What? He repeated it a third time. I still did not hear him. I said, What?

He pulled open the divider as he drove and shouted, I said you're welcome! Then he shut the divider again. I said, Oh, and buckled my seatbelt. 

We drove the eight miles between Midway and my apartment in silence. I turned off the video feed on the screen embedded in the divider, but the screen saver still cast an unpleasant light into my eyes. 

Three blocks from my apartment, I said, My house isn't all the way to Division and Ashland, it's two blocks before.

He opened the divider and said, Your house? Did you build this yourself? I said, No, I meant my apartment. I sometimes say house.  He said, Are you rich or something? Are you a rich girl?  I think he was trying to make his tone bantery, but instead he just sounded accusative. I said, No, I am not rich, I am sharing a rental apartment with another person.  

Why don't you have a house? he said. I said, Because I am not rich, and it is not my goal to be rich. He huffed.

The tab was $24.85. I gave him thirty dollars. Five dollars is a standard tip for a ride from the airport. As I exited the cab, he said, Good night, rich woman.  He was practically spitting. I walked in a hurry the half block to my house.