NOW!”
Man, did she turn out to be one heck of a door slammer. BLAM, right smack in my face! Tiny as she was, she heaved that thing so hard that the noise rang in my ears as it resonated in the hallway. On the other side of the door, three bolts quickly slid closed, and my scolding continued in rapid-fire Chinese.
“Thanks for all your encouragement,” I snarled at Ernest.
He stared at me, and I stared back. Then we both lost it. We just cracked up. With the agitated old lady still carrying on inside, it was then our turn to scamper down the stairwell. Like two mischievous teenagers, we laughed hysterically all the way. By the time we made our way down the first floor hallway to the building’s entrance doors, my abs ached as if I’d done two hundred sit-ups. We didn’t even begin to calm down until we stepped back out onto the sidewalk. For a moment we just stood all hunched over out there with our hands at our sides and tears in our eyes as we tried to catch our breaths. And when we did, I knew I’d had enough. I told Ernest I was ready to go back to Manhattan.
We could have taken a bus to the taxi stand on Main Street, but I felt like getting a little exercise. My partner said he was game. He didn’t mind walking and seeing a little more of my old neighborhood. With my sense of direction in working order now, I decided to take a short cut. We made our way through the maze of towering buildings, passed a Jewish temple, and finally came up to Roosevelt Avenue. When we turned there, I froze in my tracks.
As if the cement sidewalk had hardened around the soles of my shoes, my legs would not move. I could feel the warm sun beating on my face and on the top of my head, yet a cold chill prickled both my arms. Suddenly my mind came alive with yet another whirlwind of memories. Along with them, an entire stash of images flashed through my head. They were pictures of a person—just one person. She was someone I hadn’t been able to bring back until now. Holding my arm out against Ernest’s chest to keep him there, I stared at the second building up on our right.
“Good God, Ernest! That’s where she lived when we first met! Right there on the second floor,” I pointed, “the windows closest to us.”
“Who? Who in the devil are you talking about?”
“ Blanche! Blanche lived there! My wife! ”
Chapter 1 3
As Ernest and I made our way past a drug store, a restaurant, a pizza joint and all the rest, I was far too deep in a funereal funk to notice the buildings. Sure, I was glad as hell that I’d remembered who my wife was and that she was such a kind, caring human being. She was a woman so good that her life had always meant more to me than my own. But it was also mentally paralyzing knowing I may never return to her. I’d answered a couple of Ernest’s questions after we passed Blanche’s place, but after that I could no longer make sense of his words. I didn’t try to. I was too embedded in dark worry.
We’d been traipsing two full blocks down the gray sidewalk before Ernest’s words began penetrating my consciousness again. He’d been leaning into my face and talking to me, but until now I’d heard none of it . . . .
“For God’s sake, Jack, pull yourself together. Calm down, son. Nobody has yet said you’re not going back to her.”
“Nobody has said I am either,” I came back, as we stopped to wait for a red light on the corner of Main and Roosevelt. Ernest said nothing more.
When the light turned green, we headed across the street and made our way through a flock of pedestrians crossing from the opposite corner. When we reached the other side, we passed a subway entrance and got into the first cab on line at the curbside taxi stand. The driver was a young guy with long chestnut hair and granny glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He looked like a 1960’s throwback. I
Man, did she turn out to be one heck of a door slammer. BLAM, right smack in my face! Tiny as she was, she heaved that thing so hard that the noise rang in my ears as it resonated in the hallway. On the other side of the door, three bolts quickly slid closed, and my scolding continued in rapid-fire Chinese.
“Thanks for all your encouragement,” I snarled at Ernest.
He stared at me, and I stared back. Then we both lost it. We just cracked up. With the agitated old lady still carrying on inside, it was then our turn to scamper down the stairwell. Like two mischievous teenagers, we laughed hysterically all the way. By the time we made our way down the first floor hallway to the building’s entrance doors, my abs ached as if I’d done two hundred sit-ups. We didn’t even begin to calm down until we stepped back out onto the sidewalk. For a moment we just stood all hunched over out there with our hands at our sides and tears in our eyes as we tried to catch our breaths. And when we did, I knew I’d had enough. I told Ernest I was ready to go back to Manhattan.
We could have taken a bus to the taxi stand on Main Street, but I felt like getting a little exercise. My partner said he was game. He didn’t mind walking and seeing a little more of my old neighborhood. With my sense of direction in working order now, I decided to take a short cut. We made our way through the maze of towering buildings, passed a Jewish temple, and finally came up to Roosevelt Avenue. When we turned there, I froze in my tracks.
As if the cement sidewalk had hardened around the soles of my shoes, my legs would not move. I could feel the warm sun beating on my face and on the top of my head, yet a cold chill prickled both my arms. Suddenly my mind came alive with yet another whirlwind of memories. Along with them, an entire stash of images flashed through my head. They were pictures of a person—just one person. She was someone I hadn’t been able to bring back until now. Holding my arm out against Ernest’s chest to keep him there, I stared at the second building up on our right.
“Good God, Ernest! That’s where she lived when we first met! Right there on the second floor,” I pointed, “the windows closest to us.”
“Who? Who in the devil are you talking about?”
“ Blanche! Blanche lived there! My wife! ”
Chapter 1 3
As Ernest and I made our way past a drug store, a restaurant, a pizza joint and all the rest, I was far too deep in a funereal funk to notice the buildings. Sure, I was glad as hell that I’d remembered who my wife was and that she was such a kind, caring human being. She was a woman so good that her life had always meant more to me than my own. But it was also mentally paralyzing knowing I may never return to her. I’d answered a couple of Ernest’s questions after we passed Blanche’s place, but after that I could no longer make sense of his words. I didn’t try to. I was too embedded in dark worry.
We’d been traipsing two full blocks down the gray sidewalk before Ernest’s words began penetrating my consciousness again. He’d been leaning into my face and talking to me, but until now I’d heard none of it . . . .
“For God’s sake, Jack, pull yourself together. Calm down, son. Nobody has yet said you’re not going back to her.”
“Nobody has said I am either,” I came back, as we stopped to wait for a red light on the corner of Main and Roosevelt. Ernest said nothing more.
When the light turned green, we headed across the street and made our way through a flock of pedestrians crossing from the opposite corner. When we reached the other side, we passed a subway entrance and got into the first cab on line at the curbside taxi stand. The driver was a young guy with long chestnut hair and granny glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He looked like a 1960’s throwback. I
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