chapter 42: asleep
“I still don’t know your name.” said Jack, lying beside the raincoat girl, on top of her spotted raincoat, with his uniform coat rolled up for a pillow and his overcoat over them as a blanket.
“I think my name is Jill. Or maybe Jackie. I’m not sure yet.” said the girl. “I’ll remember it in a minute.”
Jack hugged her to him. “This has been a great night.” he said.
“I liked watching your face.” said the girl. “And you didn’t hurt me. It made me feel good, too.”
“I’m glad.” said Jack. “That’s the way it’s supposed to be.”
“I got to go now. I got to go to the bus station and tell everybody about the baby.” said the girl, pulling her raincoat from beneath them, and somehow putting it on under the overcoat.
Suddenly she rose, dressed as she was when Jack first saw her, and with a quick kiss, just as suddenly she was gone. Alone again, Jack scanned the Park for any sign of life. But there was none. It was late, and the Park was empty. Nothing moved at the playground, except the swings, which rocked back and forth in unison, their chains creaking, ridden by the wind as if by ghosts. The merry-go-round was as motionless as the old tree beside the sliding board. Jack put on his uniform coat and heavy overcoat and lay down again on the end of the slide, his arms folded across his chest. He could still smell the odor of the raincoat girl on the coat. And it caused him to smile as he closed his eyes to sleep. “Different.” he said. “But sweet. – Touched maybe, but not crazy. Not too crazy maybe. Just touched a little bit.”
Very quickly Jack was asleep, dreaming of tree forts, and cowboys and Indians, and of his mother standing in the doorway of their house smiling down at him, reaching out to take him by the hand, kissing his tears away. She led him into the house, and carried him upstairs to his bedroom, undressed him and puts him into his warm bed. “Sleep sweet, my lovely one.” she said. “You are safe, and I am here to protect you.”
chapter 43: awake
Naked in the bathroom, standing in front of the huge mirror and sink, his face lathered with shaving cream, a glass of bourbon in one hand and a razor in the other, Jim Bailey tried to shave. The hand holding the razor trembled noticeably. “It’s not the same.” he said softly, to the image in the mirror. “How can it ever be the same again?”
The face in the mirror stared back at him.
“She’ll know. The stupid bitch. She’ll know.”
“I can’t hide it anymore.”
“And the kids. They’ll know, too. ‘Is Daddy drinking again, Mommy?’ Gloria Anne will ask in that whiny little voice like her mother. And Jim Junior won’t say anything. He’ll just look at me.”
“I can’t hide it anymore. I don’t love her. I don’t want to be with her anymore.”
“I don’t love them either.”
“I LOVE ME.”
“And I want to be with me.”
“And I want to be with Susan.”
“Susan is young. Sweet, young Susan.”
“I love me.”
“And Lisa. I want to be with Lisa, too.”
“It just won’t be the same anymore.”
Jim drank the small swallow of bourbon still left in the glass, leaving a smudge of shaving cream on the rim, and poured more bourbon from the bottle on the sink into the glass. Suddenly, he dropped the razor and snatched a towel from the rack and wipes the shaving cream from his face.
“How can it ever be the same again?” he asked the image in the mirror, then turned abruptly and went back into the main room.
From his window high up in the hotel building, Jim looked out from his darkened room toward the River and the Park. He had pulled the curtains back as far as they will go, and stood framed in the big window, still naked, waiting for the dawn. His mirror image reflected in the big window, exactly as it had in the bathroom, only now the rumpled bed was behind him. His head ached, both in the front and in the back, and he took two more aspirin from the plastic bottle on the nightstand, and swallowed them with the help of a small bit of bourbon in the bottom of his glass. He pulled a chair to the window and sat down, staring out at the City thoughtfully.
From the far end of the Park, in the dim light, Jim watched as a soldier walked purposely toward the Boulevard. The soldier wore a heavy overcoat, but as he reached the park entrance near the Boulevard, he stopped and took off the coat and folded it neatly over his arm. The soldier crossed the Boulevard and passed from Jim’s sight.
Jim got up from the chair and went to the room phone. He picked up the receiver and began to dial, but suddenly looked at his watch on the nightstand, and put the phone down. For a moment he hesitated, then picked up the phone again and dialed the hotel front desk. “Yes, this is Mr. Bailey. I’d like to have my bill prepared for checkout at 6 o’clock this morning, please. — Yes. Thank you. That’ll be fine.”
Again, Jim dialed the phone. The line rang for a long time, but finally someone answered.
“Yes, Monica, it’s me. — Yes, I know what time it is. I just wanted to call and tell you I’ll be home around noon. — I know you already knew that I was coming home today. But I just wanted to call and make sure you knew the time. — A little. Not much. A few drinks with the clients, you know the routine. — Yes, I know what time it is. But I’m getting ready to leave the hotel. — No, I was here all night. I don’t know why they couldn’t get through. I’m sorry you were worried, sweetheart. — All right, I’ll see you at noon. — Yes, I love you, too. — I’ll tell you all about it when I get home. — Yes, sweetheart. My love to the kids, too. Goodbye.”
Carefully, Jim pulled back the covers on the rumpled bed and slid between the sheets. His head throbbed with pain, both in front and in the back. He knew he would not sleep, but all at once he was cold.
chapter 44:
reconciliation
Outside the hotel, Rita stopped momentarily, staring straight in front of her. Walking nearby on the sidewalk, Joey, without his balloon, talked to himself, taking both sides of the conversation. “I’ll say ‘I come back for to get my balloon’. And he’ll say ‘No, you didn’t. You come back for the other thing.’ And then I’ll say ‘No, I didn’t’. And he’ll say ‘Yes, you did…”
“What’s the matter, Joey?” asked Rita.
Joey looked up at the sound of another voice and rushed to Rita. “I lost it.” he said. “Left it in the room.”
“What?”
“The Daddy.”
Rita stared at Joey bewildered.
“My balloon. So I can sell more balloons tomorrow.”
“Where did you leave it?”
“In Jesus’s room on the top floor.”
“Why don’t you just go back up there and get it?”
“Can’t. – He throwed us out. For…”
Joey stopped. “Who? For what?” asked Rita.
“Me, and Rusty, and Cowboy. For being drunk and stuff. Rusty took Cowboy home.”
“Do you want me to go up and get your balloon for you?”
“No. – I can go by myself. I’m not a-scared of Jesus.”
“Don’t make trouble, Joey. He’s in that room for free. I stole the key and gave it to him. I could get in trouble, too.”
“Won’t makes no trouble, I promise.” said Joey.
“I’ll go up with you then. Just to make sure he’s okay.”
The two walked through the hotel door and rode the elevator to the top floor in silence. Both Joey and Rita were thinking hard. On the top floor, they knocked on the door of room 800.
In the suite Jesús was laying on the bed in the dark, silent and thoughtful. Only the bathroom light was on. At the knock, Jesús stood and closed the bathroom door, flicked on the light switch for the living room, and walked slowly to the front door. There was another louder knock, and Jesús, with his hand on his knife, opened the door, ready to meet the Chief. “Oh, it’s you guys.” said Jesús, relaxing. “I’m sorry. I thought it was someone else. Come on in.”
“There’s no manager in the place this time of night. If that’s what’s worrying you.” said Rita. “And I don’t think our friend is going to show up for his lesson. The Preacher took care of that. Preacher’s in charge now. And the night auditor. But Preacher has that old bastard so full of booze by now he’s probably passed out in some empty room.”
“Yes, I thought it might be the manager.” said Jesús.
“Joey wants his balloons.” said Rita.
“Sure. Where are they, Joey?” asked Jesús, looking around.
Joey didn’t say anything, but looked at Jesús strangely.
“Where are they, Joey?” repeated Rita.
“Just one.” said Joey finally, pointing. “In the shower. In the bathroom.”
Joey pointed through the bedroom to the closed door.
“Well, go in there and get it then.” said Rita.
“Can’t.” said Joey, looking at a pile of tennis shoes and socks, a coat and a shirt, topped by a worn red baseball cap laying near the closed door. Suddenly Joey began to cry.
“I can, then.” said Rita, heading for the door. “I don’t know what gets into you, Joey. Coming all the way up here to get your balloons, and now you don’t want them.”
“No, let Jesus gets it.” said Joey, alarmed. “Please, Jesus, can you gets my balloon for me, please?”
Tears began to roll down the old man’s cheeks.
Jesús looked at Joey for a long moment. “Sure, Joey, I’ll get your balloon for you.”
Jesús went to the bathroom door and slipped inside. He reemerged almost immediately with the white balloon, closing the door behind him once again.
“Is this the one?” asked Jesús laughing. “Must be a hundred balloons in that shower. Is this the right one?”
Joey took the string of the white balloon eagerly, while Rita chuckled to herself at Jesús’s joke. “Thank you, Jesus.” said Joey.
“Don’t worry about it. You know I’d do anything I could to help you, don’t you?”
Joey looked at Jesús and nodded slowly. “Yes.” he said.
Jesús turned to Rita. “And I’d do anything for you, too, Rita, you know that, don’t you?”
Rita nodded. “It’s just you were gone so long, Jesse.” she said. “I didn’t know what…”
“Now you know.” says Jesús. “Didn’t mean to stay away so long. I love you both. I love you all. I wouldn’t have hurt anybody if I could have helped it.”
Rita came to Jesús and put her arms around him. They embraced, and Joey’s tears flowed freely.
“You didn’t say anything. You didn’t write. I didn’t know what to do.” said Rita. “I thought you were gone for good.”
Jesús hugged Rita to his body hard, but suddenly released her.
“You want to come home?” asked Rita. “Or do you want me to stay here with you for the rest of the night?”
“No.” said Jesús quickly, then smiled. “I’ll call you in the morning. I think you were right. We probably need to talk some more before we jump back together. I was wrong.”
“If you say so.” said Rita. “I don’t think I ever heard you say that your whole life. – You sure you’re all right here by yourself?”
“I’m all right. I’ll call you in the morning. Got to think about things. Mister Charles has a job for me if I want it. And somebody else wants me to work for them, too. I need to decide before Monday. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. Maybe for breakfast.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.” said Jesús, then turned to Joey. “Joey, you take care of her for me, will you? Walk her home. I can’t go home with her tonight.”
“Will try.” said Joey, between sobs. “You know I wouldn’t have done it, don’t you, Jesus? Was just drunk, is all.”
“I know.” said Jesús. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay? — Here, Rita, take this home. I bought a couple bottles of brandy in case you came back to the party. It’s all that’s left.”
Jesús handed Rita a bag, then opened the door and peeked out into the hallway. “There’s nobody out there.” he said. “You guys go on now. I’ll be all right. Everything’s going to be all right now. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Joey went out the door, balloon in hand, the weight of the balloon string and the decreasing strength of the gas holding the balloon close to his fist. He was still sobbing.
Rita lingered a moment, then came back to Jesús, and kissed him quickly. “I love you, baby. Welcome home.” she said. “We can have a normal life, after all.”
“Yes. I love you, too, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be all right.” said Jesús, watching her walk down the hallway to the elevator, then closing the door.
At the elevator, Rita pushed the DOWN button. She smiled at Joey, who is looking lovingly at his balloon. “Everything’s going to be all right now, Joey. Jesse said so. You wait and see. Everything’s going to be all right.”
Joey smiled through his tears. “Yes, everything’s going to be all right now.” he repeated.
* * * * * * * *
Back inside the room, Jesús struggled but overcame his emotions. He walked around the room quickly gathering up empty bottles and bags and boxes, the boy’s loose clothing and shoes, and put them all in the shower stall where he first threw the Chief’s uniform, now a sodden mass of damp, alcohol-soaked cloth. Jesús checked the pockets of the boy’s coat again and put the gun and money in his own pockets. He found the last cigarette from the pack he had purchased earlier in the evening, lit it, took several puffs, and then threw the lit cigarette and match into the shower, watching carefully as the trash caught fire and slowly began to burn the uniform coat. “That should do it.” he said, with satisfaction, turning for the main door of the room.
Quickly he came back to the window wall and opened it a crack, providing air to the smoldering flames in the bathroom. Again, he returned to the main door, opened it slowly, and went out, locking it firmly behind him.
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