Minding Ben (34 page)

“You want me to see something for you, Ule?” I asked her.

“Why? Something wrong with my eye?”

“Not at all, I just offering.”

“Good”—she handed me a piece of paper—“what that say?”

I laughed and took it. Her full name, her address in Brooklyn, and her telephone number were written in a very neat penmanship. “Me didn't want talk me business in front all Tom, Nancy, and Harry. Tomorrow is the last day I on this work, and then I gone Kennedycut for six weeks.”

“Tomorrow? Connecticut? I thought you only worked in the city, Ule.”

“And is who tell you that?”

No one had. I'd just assumed.

“With baby nurse work, you go where it have babies, my child. In truf, I did think Miriam was going to hire me for this one coming, but maybe Miss Evie already get one friend for her.”

“I think they'll be gone by the time the baby born.”

“Miriam tell you they moving?”

For sure Ule'd disapprove if I told her that I went digging through their papers. “I saw their apartment listed for sale,” I said.

“Well, but you never know. They could be getting another place maybe right in this same building. They gone need more space, you know.”

“No, they're buying Dave's house upstate.”

“Aha. And what it is you going to do? You going with them?”

My shoulders felt too heavy to shrug. Over the weekend, whenever Brent hadn't been in my bed, it was all I had thought about. Maybe up until a week ago I might have considered going with them. But now I could not go. “No.”

Ule squeezed my shoulders. “Good. You have to try your own luck. You can't take nobody else life and make it your own. Petal used to talk all that God and prayers talk, but you have to have plenty common sense too. Good good.”

I didn't want to ask Ule if she thought I had common sense, because seriously, sometimes I really thought I didn't have a drop. Kathy was sharp. Bridget, razor. And me, I was just floating by on a breeze, pure luck and chance.

W
e were winding down the day. Ben had just chosen his perennial favorite book,
Pish Posh
, and the newer
Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.
“Bed or lap?” I asked him.

“Lap please, Grace.”

“How about I sit on your lap for a change?”

He laughed. “Grace, I'm a little boy. You would break me.”

“Okay,” I said and gathered him onto me.

“Wait, Grace.” He scooted off for Rabbit.

“Ready?”

He climbed up, smelling deliciously of baby shampoo. “
Pish Posh
first, please.”

“Since you asked so nicely.”

Sol and Miriam were at the movies. Now in the final stretch of her pregnancy and despite her discomfort, she was determined to go out as often as possible before she was
saddled with two.
Her words. I liked them being gone. I had Ben to myself and could relax.

The phone rang.

“One minute, mister.” I passed him
Pish Posh.
“Show Rabbit the pictures.”

“Hello?”

“Grace? Is that you, Grace? Grace . . . is you, Grace?”

“Micky?”

“Yes, Grace. Is me. Grace . . .” She sounded spitty and garbled.

“Micky, slow down. Take the fingers out your mouth.”

“Grace . . . my brother. My bro-bro-ther,” she stammered.

“Okay, Micky. Did Derek do something? You want to put Derek on the phone?”

“No, Grace. My b-r-oth-er . . .” She was hysterical. “Grace, is Dame.”

“My brother what? Micky, breathe. Slow, slow.” She took great sobbing gulps of air and then cried hard again. “Micky? Can you hear me? Tell me what happen. Where Mammy? Where Sylvia?”

“She, she, she went to the hospital, Grace.”

“Hospital?” This wasn't good. Had something happened at the G Building?

“Grace, can you come? Can you come now, Grace?”

“Micky, I can come in a little while, okay? But first you have to tell me what happened. Take your time.”

“Grace”—the word twisted—“is Dame . . .” She began wailing again. “Dame fell.”

“Okay. Dame fell off the couch, off the crib? What?” I didn't want to lose my patience with her, but I needed to know what was going on. “Micky,” I said a little too sharply, but I couldn't help it. She was scaring me. “Stop. Tell me what is going on.”

I heard her snotty inhale and then, “Grace, Dame fell out the window.”

And that feeling again, all the blood in my body pooling in my stomach and leaving the rest of me cold.

“Who home with you and Derek? Where Auntie Dodo?”

“Uncle Bo. And Nello. We moving. Auntie Dodo in church. The police.” She wasn't making much sense. “Grace, I'm scared.”

“Okay. Hang up. I'm coming.”

Sweet Ben was showing Rabbit the kooky pictures. “Come on, buddy,” I told him, “we have to go.”

“Go where, Grace? Can I bring my book?”

I took
Pish Posh
away. “It's just for a little while, Ben. Leave your book.”

“Can I bring Rabbit?”

I was only taking him down to Evie's. “Okay, Rabbit can come.” I scooped him up. “Let's go.”

I had fifteen dollars and change, about enough to take a cab one way. I took the week's twenty from the money cup and started to write a note—
Ben with Evie
—but I heard the elevator ding and ran out of the apartment.

Evie came to the door in housecoat and slippers, tightening her curler. “What you want this hour of the night?”

“Evie, I have to run Brooklyn now. Sol and Miriam not home. Watch Ben for me please till they come?”

She sized me up. “What big emergency you have so?”

“Evie, it
is
an emergency . . .” But I couldn't get the words out, I couldn't explain. “I'm in a hurry, please?” I held Ben over to her, but she turned down her lips and shook her head.

“No, my hands full right now. Caleb and Sammy have cold and fever.”

“Come on, Evie. This is an emergency. Just put him on the couch, please. I have to go now.”

Evie smiled. “Now you upset, me could hear the Trinidadian in your voice.”

“What?”

Ben craned out of my arms to catch a glimpse of the twins. “Can I have a sleepover with Caleb and Sammy, Grace?” he asked.

Evie reached out and touched his hair. “Not tonight, bad boy.” She smiled a little. “Why you don't run go ask your best friend Ule?” This was bullshit. “Or maybe the friend she give the work can watch him for you?”

We rode up to Dave's. No answer. “Oh, come on,” I said as I slapped my palm against the door until it hurt, and Ben too banged and called to the dogs. “I don't think
Zio
home, Grace.”

“I think you're right, buddy.” I thought about the numbers on the refrigerator. I could go back and call Ettie or Nancy. But then I'd have to wait around for one of them to show up, or ride all the way uptown. I had to get to Brooklyn
now
.

“Hey, Ben, want to ride a taxi at night?”

Duke was hanging up the intercom. He tipped his hat. “You in a hurry, Miss Trinidad.”

“Duke,” I said. “Do me a favor?”

He looked up from his bifocals. “Yes?”

“It's so so important. I have to go to—”

“You want
me
to do
you
a favor?”

“Duke, please, this is serious. Tell Mr. and Mrs. Bruckner I have a family emergency. Ben is with me, and we'll be back soon, okay, Duke?” I didn't wait for him to answer. I couldn't. I just ran out the door.

“Ben, we need to find a taxi,” I said. “Want to help me hail?” I wriggled my hand in the air to show him how.

“Here he comes, Grace.” Ben clutched Rabbit and shot his other hand in the air.

“Good. But we need one with the light on. See the light on the top?”

“Okay, Grace.” He tried to hail the next one, but it was full as well.

“Okay. How 'bout I try to get the cab and you keep a lookout for Mommy and Daddy?”

C'mon, cab
, I pleaded into the night. And
c'mon, Sol and Miriam. Please. Please. Please.

A cab stopped to let someone off, and I tumbled Ben into the backseat before the driver even knew we were there.

I slammed the door shut, relieved. “Eastern Parkway, please. Between Nostrand and New York.”

The driver shook his head. “I don't go Brooklyn.”

“What?”

“No go Brooklyn.”

“You have to go Brooklyn. I'm not getting out of this car.” He switched off the ignition. “Are you for fucking real?” I demanded. I didn't have the time for this. “Oh, for fuck's sakes.”

“That's a bad word, Grace.”

“Get out my cab.”

I grabbed Ben, wanting to curse the driver more. Instead, I left his back door wide open. We'd already walked away when he got out and flung Rabbit the distance between us. “Grace,” Ben screamed and hugged his buddy tight.

Without really thinking, I ran down the station steps and into the subway. It was screeching loud and especially hot, but the train we wanted was already on the track. Finally something working out my way. No one noticed or cared that Ben was in his shortie pj's and barefoot. He sat facing me, with his legs splayed and Rabbit held to his chest.

“Wow, Grace, this train is loud,” he said.

“It sure is. Do this.” I showed him how to clamp his hands over his ears.

He wedged Rabbit between us and covered his ears. I hugged him to me. I knew that Sol and Miriam were going to be furious. In fact, they were going to fire me as soon as I got back to the apartment. I nuzzled Ben's red hair as the train sped through the tunnels. The conductor made an announcement just past Franklin: “Due to police activity, this number three train will be bypassing Nostrand Avenue, Kingston Avenue. The next station stop on this local train will be Utica.”

People fretted, and I said, “Oh, for fuck's sakes.”

“You said a very bad word, Grace,” Ben told me.

The woman sitting next to me laughed. “Aye, so 'im feisty with 'im fire hair.”

At Utica the trains were doing the express route in reverse. “Okay, Ben,” I said—he was heavy to haul up the stairs—“we have to walk. This is an adventure.”

“A venture!” he repeated. “Let's go, Grace.”

After one block we got in a livery cab, and the driver said eight dollars for the six-block ride.

“You mad or you crazy?” I asked him. “Between New York and Nostrand I say. Just down the road.”

“You see what going on down there.” He pointed toward New York Avenue. “Is real bacchanal out here tonight. Seven dollars, come.” I cut my eyes to let him know I knew he was ripping me off, but I had to get to Sylvia's. Our four-minute ride took twenty.

Brooklyn was on fire.

“What's going on?”

The cabbie had rolled up all the windows, locked the doors, and turned on the air-conditioning. Something was happening. Everyone was angry and shouting and running toward Union. People were crossing Eastern Parkway against the lights, cutting through the mostly stalled traffic, forcing the moving cars to stop. The Hasidim were out in full force too.

“Look, Grace.” Ben pointed to the groups of Hasidic men in their black suits and white shirts. “They look like penguins.”

And they did kind of. Agitated penguins. Then about twelve black boys charged one penguin colony, and the whole crowd went down. I covered Ben's eyes. “Jesus Christ, what is going on?” It looked like the end of the world, as if the messiah had come and was very very angry.

A police car was parked in front of Sylvia's building. The elevator was out of order. I ran up all five flights carrying Ben and saw two of Sylvia's neighbors and an officer outside her door.

“Somebody, please, tell me what is going on.”

“Uh, uh, uh”—the Jamaican lady who watched Dame sometimes held her housecoat closed—“is a damn shame.”

“And who are you?” the officer asked.

For a second I didn't know exactly who I was. “I'm a cousin. Where's Sylvia?”

Micky ran out into the hallway. “Grace.” Her hair was wild, she was wild. “My brother dead, Grace.” The officer let me in, but there was no in to go. The front closet had come tumbling down along with everything else in the apartment. Another officer stood by the opened window. A Chinese man with a pen behind his ear and a camera around his neck was also in the living room. His latex gloves were almost the same color as his skin. Micky and Derek now stood next to me, a little shy of Ben, who was watching everything with wide eyes.

“Aunty Dodo and Bo not here yet?”

“And you are?” the second officer wanted to know.

“A cousin. Can somebody please tell me what happened?”

“Dame fell out the window, Grace,” Derek whispered. I had never seen him this calm. “My brother dead.”

“The baby's dead?” I asked both the officer and the Chinese man. Neither answered. Micky started to cry.

“And whose baby is this?” the officer wanted to know. Ben had been quiet the whole time, clinging to me like a monkey.

“I mind him. I'm his babysitter.” With the three kids on me, I needed to sit. I picked up a pile of clothes to clear a place. There was so much stuff on the couch.

“Please, no touching anything, ma'am,” the Chinese man said.

“Look”—I let the pile fall away from my hand—“is just clothes. The landlord been fixing the lead paint.”

He took a spiral notebook from his jeans and the pen from behind his ear. “And who is the landlord?”

“Jacob something or other. You have to ask my cousin.”

The policeman's radio squawked, and the one in the hallway echoed its call. That officer came in. “Sounds like it's heating up bad down there. We're gonna have to go soon. You almost done, Ting?”

Ting started snapping again. Their radios didn't stop, and I made out “All units respond, all units respond, all units in nonemergency situations respond.”

Loud knocking startled us all. “This is my sister's house,” Dodo shouted. “Let me come in, do you hear me?” She ran down the hall ahead of Bo, took in the wrecked space, the officer, the Chinese man, the opened window, and started screaming. Micky started to cry, and then Ben began to whimper.

The officer came over to Dodo, his blue eyes warm. “Ma'am. Ma'am, please. You're upsetting the children. Please, ma'am.”

“Oh, God, you mean the baby dead, in truth. Bo? Bo?”

Bo lit a cigarette, and the orange flare reflected on his sweaty face. “I done tell you what happen, Dodo. That mother-ass Jacob have plenty blood on he hand.” He leaned against the entryway in a dirty undershirt, three-quarter jeans, and sneakers without laces. “Grace, who child is that?”

“The little boy. But I have to go back. Bo, what happen?”

Barely, he raised his chin at the officer. Dodo calmed and asked if the children needed to stay for any reason.

The officer looked over at Ting, who shrugged. “No, they can go.”

“Come, Micky and Derek. Come, let's go. This place is hell.”

“Grace, we could come with you?”

Dodo wrenched Micky's arm. “I say come on. Grace have to go.”

We tried to hustle out, impossible in the madhouse the apartment had become. The space in the corridor was tight. You had to turn sideways and rub the roach-streaked wall to get by. Micky stopped, and the parade halted behind her. She bent and tugged at something from deep under the pile.

“Micky, move it. Let's go,” Dodo ordered.

She ignored her aunt and kept pulling. She tugged some more, freeing what remained of Hannah Speiser's wings.

“I could keep this, Grace?”