reached for the door handle, “thank you for the ride.”
“You are welcome, but wait a moment. Don’t get out just yet. I must ask you a question.”
“Okay, sure. What is it?”
“Look closely at my face. Do I seem familiar to you? Do you think you have ever seen me before?”
“No. Not that I can recall. Why?”
“Because you have been in one of my taxicabs before,” he said with an ironic smile.
“Really? When?”
“More than twenty years ago. I was the one who took you and your friends from Manhattan to that park we passed a while back. I was the driver you did not pay.”
“ Nooo shiii . . . . I mean . . . . You’re kidding me.”
“No, I am not. Do I look like I have much of a sense of humor?”
His white smile then spread cheek to cheek. It was a relief to see. Feeling somewhat off the hook now, I had a good hearty laugh. So did he and Ernest. I then got out of the cab, walked to the driver’s open window and shook his hand.
“Thank you my friend,” I said.
Still with that smile on his thin face, he said, “Have a nice day, Jack. Go now, see your old home.” Then he drove off.
“Ernest, can you believe that?” I asked, joining him on the sidewalk.
“You bet I can!”
We just stood there looking around for a couple of minutes. Across the street there were lots of kids playing in the junior high school’s big asphalt schoolyard. Outside it on the sidewalk, four mothers talked in front of the fence. Their small children suddenly began to scream as the bells of the day’s first ice cream truck could be heard coming up the avenue. I looked beyond the kids and their mothers. On the other side of the high fence were the basketball courts where I’d played a thousand games. The metal backboards, flush against the wall of an apartment building, took me back as well. I could again see old Missus Grabowski’s angry face scowling out her fifth floor window. On mornings when we had dared to dribble and shoot before eight o’clock, she’d sit up there waiting for an opportune time. Then when we weren’t paying attention, she’d empty a full pot of hot water down us.
When that thought dissipated, I rolled my eyes down the block a ways. The Christian Scientist church still stood there. And I remembered the countless summer nights when a mob of us teenagers would hang out on the wide steps—carrying on and listening to music from all the girls synchronized radios. When that vision ran its course, I turned away from the church and laid a hand on the mailbox alongside me.
I said to Ernest, “When I was a kid, I used to love to climb on top of this thing. I’d sit up here and be taller than any grownup that ever walked by. I felt like I was on top of the world.”
Ernest silently nodded. Then he turned his head and eyes to the two big iron and glass doors to my old building. In a tone close to solemn, sensing the trauma of my homecoming, he asked, “Are you ready to go inside, Jack?”
Nodding slowly, I looked at those doors. “Sure,” I said. “Let’s do it. Let’s go up to apartment 3-C.”
Chapter 1 2
I pushed through the heavy door and held it open for Ernest. We then climbed the three wide steps to the building’s inside entry doors that opened into the hallway. As I now held one of the doors open for Ernest, I did a quick study of it. The Carole Loves Jacky that a young teenage girl once carved into the wood was now gone.
Making our way down the hallway, we passed six, brown metal doors. All had the number one and a letter on them, 1-A through 1-F. We then entered the lobby, and I looked around for a moment. There were four more apartments on the far side and one small door that opened to a room the size of a phone booth. I looked inside. The old garbage chute was still built into the wall. I thought back to the countless nights when, after dinner,
“You are welcome, but wait a moment. Don’t get out just yet. I must ask you a question.”
“Okay, sure. What is it?”
“Look closely at my face. Do I seem familiar to you? Do you think you have ever seen me before?”
“No. Not that I can recall. Why?”
“Because you have been in one of my taxicabs before,” he said with an ironic smile.
“Really? When?”
“More than twenty years ago. I was the one who took you and your friends from Manhattan to that park we passed a while back. I was the driver you did not pay.”
“ Nooo shiii . . . . I mean . . . . You’re kidding me.”
“No, I am not. Do I look like I have much of a sense of humor?”
His white smile then spread cheek to cheek. It was a relief to see. Feeling somewhat off the hook now, I had a good hearty laugh. So did he and Ernest. I then got out of the cab, walked to the driver’s open window and shook his hand.
“Thank you my friend,” I said.
Still with that smile on his thin face, he said, “Have a nice day, Jack. Go now, see your old home.” Then he drove off.
“Ernest, can you believe that?” I asked, joining him on the sidewalk.
“You bet I can!”
We just stood there looking around for a couple of minutes. Across the street there were lots of kids playing in the junior high school’s big asphalt schoolyard. Outside it on the sidewalk, four mothers talked in front of the fence. Their small children suddenly began to scream as the bells of the day’s first ice cream truck could be heard coming up the avenue. I looked beyond the kids and their mothers. On the other side of the high fence were the basketball courts where I’d played a thousand games. The metal backboards, flush against the wall of an apartment building, took me back as well. I could again see old Missus Grabowski’s angry face scowling out her fifth floor window. On mornings when we had dared to dribble and shoot before eight o’clock, she’d sit up there waiting for an opportune time. Then when we weren’t paying attention, she’d empty a full pot of hot water down us.
When that thought dissipated, I rolled my eyes down the block a ways. The Christian Scientist church still stood there. And I remembered the countless summer nights when a mob of us teenagers would hang out on the wide steps—carrying on and listening to music from all the girls synchronized radios. When that vision ran its course, I turned away from the church and laid a hand on the mailbox alongside me.
I said to Ernest, “When I was a kid, I used to love to climb on top of this thing. I’d sit up here and be taller than any grownup that ever walked by. I felt like I was on top of the world.”
Ernest silently nodded. Then he turned his head and eyes to the two big iron and glass doors to my old building. In a tone close to solemn, sensing the trauma of my homecoming, he asked, “Are you ready to go inside, Jack?”
Nodding slowly, I looked at those doors. “Sure,” I said. “Let’s do it. Let’s go up to apartment 3-C.”
Chapter 1 2
I pushed through the heavy door and held it open for Ernest. We then climbed the three wide steps to the building’s inside entry doors that opened into the hallway. As I now held one of the doors open for Ernest, I did a quick study of it. The Carole Loves Jacky that a young teenage girl once carved into the wood was now gone.
Making our way down the hallway, we passed six, brown metal doors. All had the number one and a letter on them, 1-A through 1-F. We then entered the lobby, and I looked around for a moment. There were four more apartments on the far side and one small door that opened to a room the size of a phone booth. I looked inside. The old garbage chute was still built into the wall. I thought back to the countless nights when, after dinner,
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