Listen Ruben Fontanez (23 page)

“But man, your shoes real dirty—” he says. His face is round and one of his cheeks is raw under the brown skin, as if it has been in a fire. He follows us to the corner of 134th Street, carrying his wooden stand. “You sure you don't want a shine? Just ten cents, mister.” He skips in front of us and makes a pass at my shoes with his cloth. “How you wear such dirty shoes, man?”

Ruben shoves him aside. “Get lost, kid—” he says.
“V áyate.”

“Up yours, mother,” the young boy says, but Ruben has no time to engage him in conversation. He pulls me along after him. “Hey man, your shoes eat it—!” the boy calls after me. I turn my head back and smile. “You a real fag-ass—”

We are at the entrance but I will go no further. I have had enough subways for one day. “Come,” I say. “We will take a taxi—” My monkey's body straightens. His eyes show that he is relieved. They are gray again, tending toward brown at the edges. It is the least I can do for him. I wonder what it was that Manuel did to earn his keep before Marty came to his aid. Ruben has already found a taxi for us. It is yellow and orange and the door is held open for me. I do not need to apologize to Ruben for what he calls my jokes. He understands.

“West 76th Street,” I say to the driver. “Between Amsterdam and Columbus avenues.”

Ruben sits beside me and looks out the side window. The driver makes a U turn around the island in the middle of the avenue and heads downtown. I close my eyes. “They be coming there pretty soon,” Ruben says. “We got to think of something. Old York gone to get all his men after us—” He shakes his head sideways. “Why you do it, Mister Meyers?”

I look at my monkey. It would be too much trouble if I were to begin. I am too tired for long explanations now. I shrug. I think of telling him that I had no choice, but I am not sure he would understand. It would only mean more questions. “Danny will call the police,” I say, and while I am saying the words, I know, of course, what they mean for my monkey.

He says nothing. The driver is listening to a basketball game on the radio. Well. It is true that you would be safe there, with your brothers and sisters, but that is not, after all, the way we would like things to turn out, is it. What you do about it is your own business, my monkey. You can leave when you want. “I did not do so much,” I say.

“You do enough,” Ruben says, and for the first time this evening, he laughs. “Aiee—you
loco
sometimes, Mister Meyers. I never know anybody like you—”

I did not do so much. Still, I try to remember what has happened. Ruben shakes his head. He tells me again that he has never known anybody like me. My chest feels heavy. I suppose that I have been more active than I would care to admit. I do not, in fact, recall going down the staircase in the building. I can see the puff of smoke, though. I hear Manuel. All right, Ruben. All right. I will ask you no questions now. But before we are finished, believe me, Harry Meyers will know. The name of our driver is Gerardo Luis Morales and I wonder how many children he has, though I will not ask about that either. I leave the windows to you, Ruben Fontanez. The city does not interest me much.

The doll is in your lap now, and two pins pierce it. My mind must have been wandering. I should pay closer attention. But it is all right. Marty concerns me no longer. I worry about Manuel, though. “It be better if we get out a few blocks from home,” Ruben says. “You let me go ahead of you, in case—” I nod. Ruben tells the driver where to stop. We are crossing Manhattan island now, through Central Park. The trees are bare. There are no people walking. I see no shadows. I wonder again about the things Jackson actually did during the three days.

Harry, Harry, I tell myself. Stop. It will all be over soon. In the long run it will be for the best. Danny will survive. Remember what has just happened. In truth, you could not go through another dinner. Do not fool yourself. We are out of the park. A dog trots in front of our taxi and our driver curses. The meter reads $1.35. Ruben slopes forward on the seat, touching the doll, looking to both sides of the street. We have stopped on West End Avenue, across from the Collegiate Church. The meter reads $1.55 and I give the driver two dollar bills and do not accept any change. But my own monkey is out of the taxi before the transaction is completed and he does not know. The driver pulls the door closed behind me and does not say thank you. Still, he does not seem to question the fact of whom I ride with, and that is something. I wish him well also.

“You stay behind me,” Ruben says. “We got to be careful.”

“They could not have gotten here before us,” I say.

Ruben nods. “I want to go upstairs first. I got to tell your friend Danny something,” he says. “Then we come down together and take care of things with you—”

I thank him for thinking of saving me the four flights up and down. I am not sure I am up to it. He tells me to shout to him if I suspect anything, and then we part. When he is almost at Broadway, I begin following.

The brownstones on this side of Broadway are more various than those on my own block, I must admit. Their top floors give the appearance of castles. Across Broadway the candy store is empty. People wait in the laundromat. There is a new display in the window of the G & S Linen Store. I do not look at the faces of the people who pass me. My shoes do not pinch my toes as they did earlier today. In all my years on the West Side, I realize, I have never eaten in the Tibbs Wharf Restaurant. In front of the Hotel Manhattan Towers a sign tells me when bingo will be played. I turn left. Cars fill the street, returning to their apartment house garages and rental agencies. I cannot say I dislike living here, but I am certain that living without winter for one year would not be terrible. Overhead I hear the sound of an electric guitar. Behind me there are steps but I do not bother to look. As I have told you, I am ready. In front of me, a half block beyond Amsterdam Avenue I see the shapes moving toward him. I do not think any are taller than he is. Old York told the truth about his children. I stop to watch. Unless Marty and Manuel are with them they will not recognize me, I know. The circle is closing. A number 11 bus passes in front of me.

I am right. My monkey will lead them away from me. His head bobs from side to side. His feet dance in the pavement. Then he is gone, away from the hands of his adversaries, streaking between cars, leaping toward Columbus Avenue. If others do not wait for him at the edge of Central Park, he will escape. I remember how his feet moved in the classroom when he held my likeness in his hand. Still, he may get tired. I do not know if he has eaten anything since his lunch break. And all the money is somewhere else. But this is not the time to think of what could happen to you, Ruben Fontanez. I am sorry. Harry Meyers must look out for himself. The light is green and I cross Amsterdam Avenue. The dark shapes are gone. I see nothing before me and do not, in fact, recall seeing anyone chase my monkey. It is his decision. It will be less difficult if I am alone with Danny. Ruben has assured me that he knows the secret passageways of the New York City subway system. I cross over to my side of the street and look up at the roofs, but my monkey is not there. There are no steps behind me. No men come from the synagogue. The street is free of cars.

I am almost home. I hum to myself. In Nydia's apartment, I see, there is a light. I step down and put my hand on the doorknob and then I hear the breathing. The red cap rises from behind the garbage pails and I see the gold tooth. There is nothing to do, I realize. “I told you, man,” a voice says, and it comes toward me. The strength that rose up
against Old York is gone. It
would be useless to think otherwise. It has been a long day and I must admit that I have not been well lately. “Can't wait—” The words are blurred. My hand stays on the doorknob. His breath smells of cheap wine. I try not to think of the scene in the gardens. If I could ring the bell perhaps Danny would come down. It would be foolish to try Carlos. First, he says, he wants my money. Something cold and silver is at my throat, but I do not think I am frightened. I reach into my pocket for my wallet.

“Get him, Manny—”

I turn my head in time to see my smallest monkey leap over the garbage cans and land on my assailant's back. I push open the door and press my finger on Harry Meyers' buzzer. I step back into the shadows and watch. I see the black face, but there is no baseball cap now. I do not wish to see the struggle. I hear a hissing sound. Another shape comes near. Marty looks at me through the glass door and smiles. I hear his instructions.

“It's yours, Manny boy—the way I taught you—”

The knife rises in the air and I turn my head away. The scream I hear an instant later is like nothing human. It moves through me and I fall forward against the mailboxes, unable to support my body. What little food is left moves upwards and in my mouth I taste the bile. My hands tremble, the muscle in my neck twitches, I breathe quickly. The scream reverberates in my skull and, in truth, I wish it were all over.

“The cops, Manny—
la jora
—!” My guardian's eyes look through the glass door, appealing to me. My mouth hangs open. I will not look down at what has been accomplished.
“La jora
, Manny! Come on.” He pleads with his own monkey. He does not want to desert him, I know. “The cops, damn it. Enough—”

Then he is gone. He had no choice, after all. I am glad I did not hear everything he and Old York said to one another. There are only two figures outside the door now, but more descend upon us instantly. It is difficult for me to stay awake. People have different lives. I would not ask anybody to guess my age. I hear sirens and shouts. I see a club fall. I see light flash from silver badges. My knees have given way. I am truly sorry, I will tell you that. The door opens and someone takes me under the arms and supports me.

“I got him—” Danny says, and he loosens my collar. Then he speaks with a great gentleness. “C'mon, Mister Meyers. No need for you to look. Let's get you upstairs and we'll have the doc here in a few minutes.” Another figure is beside me but Danny says he can manage alone. I touch his hand with mine and want to tell him that I will be all right. “I had a hunch,” he says. “You know what I mean? There was something about that spic kid I didn't trust. A good thing too.” We are in the lobby where it is very warm and thick. Nydia rocks her baby in her arms. Carlos asks if he can help. You are too harsh sometimes, Harry. Danny continues to talk to me as we ascend. “It's a good thing we had a tail put on them. Dear Christ, Mister Meyers, you don't know what that kid did—in my wildest dreams—” He stops himself and wipes my forehead with a handkerchief. “You wanna rest a minute?”

I nod and we stop at the third landing. Nobody joins us. They must be looking from their windows. The hospital is nearby. I was right, you see, to have been concerned about Manuel. I wonder what they will do to him. I lean against Danny and take some more steps. My strength returns more quickly than I might have expected. But four flights is insane for a man my age. “The whole back of the guy's head was just—”

“Stop—” It is the best I can do. “Please.” I must swallow several times. I know full well, believe me. So, we have followed one another through the city, after all, I think. Harry Meyers behind his monkey and Marty and Manuel behind Harry Meyers and Danny and his police behind us all. It was not the kind of chain I had in mind. I am sorry. Do you hear me? I am sorry. I do not know how else to say it. My right hand begins to shake uncontrollably. I press it down with my left one and Danny pretends that he does not see. I am very dizzy. It will not be any easier now, I know. I wish the sirens would stop. Danny says he will get the key from my pocket. He is angry suddenly, and if I could, I would tell him that, in truth, I did not know the doll had been placed in the side pocket of my overcoat.

“Dumb kids,” he says, and, in fury, he hurls his likeness down the stairs. The sound is soft. If I had the strength I would warn him. But it is too late. The pins are still there. I am certain of it. My door opens. The room is dark. If I were to pull the window shades up I think I know what I would see on the rooftop across the street. One of the sirens is leaving us. “I'm just glad for one thing,” Danny says. “That you didn't get a look, Mister Meyers. I had a hunch, you know what I mean—?”

EIGHT

I
T IS
morning again. I sit at my desk, drinking tea and arranging my books. Danny is gone, his suitcase with him. I do not need to look out my window to know what passes in the street below me. I do not need to look across at the abandoned buildings. The wreckers can have you, Sarah. I am sorry. They can have anything they want now, I suppose. It is nothing to me. I put on my galoshes to protect the bottoms of my trousers. It has been snowing all weekend. Marty's green bag rests next to the fireplace, but I am not expecting him to return. He is not so foolish. There is other territory for him, I am certain. I place the magazine article in my briefcase, between the Hebrew books. I will leave it in the biology teacher's mailbox. Ruben need not know. Let the children see, though. It would be of little use to place it in the garbage can downstairs. After all, that is not the lost treasure you seek, old woman.

I am still tired, but there is no longer any reason to stay in my room. Except for Morris and Nydia I would have no visitors. If there is time, perhaps it is Harry Meyers who should begin talking to Morris. I could persuade him. He knows that I have enough savings for both of us. We could live without winters. All the years in this city have not made us love them. He is entitled to a trip also. Perhaps his home would give him a refund. If not, he could try to sell his bed to another. Harry Meyers could recommend somebody. I zip my briefcase closed, sip the last of the tea, and put on my overcoat. Despite everything, my body is free of aches. The hot baths the last two nights were a true pleasure. I should take them more often. My throat feels relaxed this morning. I smooth the blankets back across my bed and smile at my likeness on the night table. There is no need to take it with me. It is at home here. There is nothing else to do. I go out and close the door behind me.