by Jason Starr
‘I can’t take money from you,’ I said.
‘You’ve lent me before,’ he said.
‘I have?’
‘Don’t you remember? It was when you first started sponsoring me. I didn’t have any work and I was living on my friend Tommy’s couch on Staten Island. You lent me five hundred bucks.’
I remembered now. He’d paid me back a few weeks later.
‘Right,’ I said, ‘I almost forgot.’
‘But I didn’t,’ he said. ‘You were there for me then, and now it’s my turn to be there. It’s called loyalty. You’re a good guy, Jack – one of the best people I know. Good people deserve loyalty.’
He was taking money out of his wallet.
‘Here’s a hundred and forty-somethin’ bucks,’ he said. ‘It’s all I have on me, but it’s okay, I’ll hit an ATM later. I’ll give you whatever you need and you pay me back when you can.’
‘Gotta be honest,’ I said. ‘I don’t know when that’ll be.’
‘Whenever you can’s good enough for me.’ He smirked. ‘What else am I gonna do with my money, buy H with it?’
I smiled then said, ‘Thanks man. I owe you big time.’
‘The way I look at it,’ he said, ‘you already paid me.’
When he left, I called home again and got the same message – the call couldn’t be completed as dialed. I knew Maria was angry, and she had every right to be, but if the situation were reversed, I would’ve put my feelings aside and at least let her know that Jonah was okay. This wasn’t about me and Maria – it was about Jonah. I knew our marriage was beyond repair, but I hoped she’d realize that hurting me in a vindictive divorce would only mean hurting Jonah, too.
Since Anthony had agreed to help me, I felt much better about everything – I wasn’t alone anymore, I had a teammate. I’d been at low points in my life and recovered and I’d do it again. As I sometimes said at the podium at AA: ‘The great thing about being at the lowest point of your life is you know things can only get better.’
A-fuckin’-men.
14
When I opened my eyes, I was disoriented. At first I thought I was on my couch in Manhattan, and Jonah was asleep several feet away behind the flimsy wall. Then reality kicked in and I remembered that I was in Anthony’s place in Queens.
It was dark outside, but I was wide awake. I’d charged my phone overnight with Anthony’s charger. I glanced at the display: 6:33 a.m.
On my way to pee, I glanced into Anthony’s room, but he wasn’t there and the bed was still made. The guy had dedication, no question about that. I was proud of him – he’d been through so much, struggling with his demons, but he’d survived. More than survived – he was working hard, building up a PI business. And, I had to admit, I was proud of the role I’d played in helping him to get back on track. The way my life had been going lately, it was nice to have something to feel good about.
I rinsed out my socks and underwear and blew them dry, then got dressed in my borrowed clothes. The jeans were big, but with my belt they fit all right. Most of the T-shirts were huge, so I checked in his dresser. I couldn’t find one in the top three drawers, so I checked the bottom drawer. I spotted a couple of possibilities; as I pulled the shirts out, I saw the syringes.
There were four of them at the bottom of the drawer. As a fellow addict I should’ve been able to see through his bullshit, but I tried to stay positive. Maybe he wasn’t using again; maybe there was some other possible explanation. Maybe it was drug paraphernalia from his past, or he could’ve taken the needles from someone he was sponsoring. Unfortunately I couldn’t muster up enough denial to believe any of this. While I felt, well, stupid for trusting him, I reminded myself that I hadn’t had any better options. Even if he was using again, it didn’t mean he couldn’t help me. I had to hope for the best.
I found a plain black button-down that was about my size. I checked myself out in the bathroom mirror. I had a couple of days of scruff and the bags under my eyes were darker than usual, but I decided that, all things considered, I looked pretty good.
As I wolfed down a roast beef on rye with mustard sandwich, I went online on my phone and checked to see if there was any news about Sophie. Hopefully, the police had made an arrest, Maria would take me back, and this nightmare would end.
I couldn’t find a story about an arrest in the case. Worse, the only new stories were about me.
I wasn’t major news, but several local sites had reported about how I’d been arrested on Sunday and charged with resisting arrest. The stories mentioned that I had been questioned in connection with the death of Sophie Ward, and had discovered her body. One article, on the Spectrum News online site, included a quote from Detective Nick Barasco: ‘Jack Harper remains a person of interest in this case.’
I tried to stay positive. ‘Person of interest’ sounded a lot better than ‘murder suspect.’ And once Anthony dug up some dirt and Lawrence Ward was charged, I would be vindicated completely.
Okay, maybe I was a little too optimistic, but getting down wouldn’t get me out of this any faster. Sometimes if you want good things to happen you have to act like good things are already happening. What do the life coaches call it? Faking it to make it? Creating your own reality?
A new reality – that’s exactly what I needed.
I left Anthony’s apartment, telling myself that I’d have my life back soon, that it was only a matter of time.
I tried my best to believe this.
* * *
I was determined to have a normal Tuesday. I’d go to the office, immerse myself in work, follow up some leads, maybe show a couple of apartments. It would be good to take a vacation from my problems for several hours.
I rode the subway into the city. I knew something was wrong when I entered my office and Brian and Claire didn’t even glance at me. Normally at least one of them would say hello to me, but they both stared at their monitors like I didn’t exist.
‘Hey, what’s going on?’ I asked.
I hoped the icy reception wasn’t for the reason I suspected, because they’d read the news stories about me.
Then I looked toward my desk and saw that everything was gone. All the papers and files, my PC – everything.
‘What the hell?’ I said.
Brian and Claire were still staring at their PCs.
‘Come on, this is ridiculous,’ I said. ‘I know you’re not working, so what’s going on? Seriously, Brian, what’s up? Come on, Claire talk to me.’
‘Leave the premises immediately, Jack.’
I turned and saw that Andrew Wolf had stepped out of his office. He was in black – black pants, black shoes, a black button-down. He was glaring at me like an executioner.
‘What’s happening?’ I asked. ‘Why did you take away all my stuff?’
‘Because you don’t work here anymore.’
His voice was even-toned, no affect. He’d made a decision and I knew there was nothing I could say to change his mind.
But I tried anyway, saying, ‘I think you’re making a big mistake. If you’d just let me –’
‘You have to go – right now, Jack.’
‘Wait,’ I said, ‘if this has to do with what I think it has to do with, you have it all wrong.’
‘I’ll bank transfer any outstanding commissions. Leave or I’m calling the police.’
I couldn’t get arrested again. Even if the cops showed up to just investigate another complaint about me, and Barasco found out, it wouldn’t lead to anything positive.
‘Okay, relax, I’m not causing a scene,’ I said. ‘I know why you’re concerned, but just so you know, there’s another side to this. The main thing is I’m innocent – I didn’t do anything wrong.’
‘Your employment is terminated,’ Andrew said. ‘There isn’t anything to discuss.’
‘I understand a
nd I’m leaving,’ I said, ‘but can you just tell me what’s going on? We’ve known each other a long time now. What’s it been five, six years? I think I deserve some sort of explanation.’
This seemed to resonate with him. Or he just wanted to say whatever he had to say to get rid of me.
‘A detective came by here yesterday. He told me about the whole situation.’
‘He has it in for me,’ I said. ‘I don’t know why, but he does.’
‘Jack –’
‘Did he tell you that I didn’t actually do anything? That I’m actually just a person of interest in the case? That I –’
‘He told me your wife has a restraining order against you.’
‘That isn’t true,’ I said. ‘See? He makes things up.’ I turned toward Brian and Claire, our audience. ‘Come on, tell him you believe me. I work with you guys every day, you know what kind of person I am. A friend of mine, just last night, told me what a great guy I am, how I helped him when he was down and no one else would. Doesn’t that mean anything? If some self-absorbed cop comes in here, tells you a bunch of lies about me, you just believe it? Doesn’t our history count for anything?’
I knew I was rambling, struggling to connect with them on anything.
Andrew had his phone to his ear. ‘I’m calling the police, Jack.’
‘Come on, you guys know I’m not a killer,’ I said to the room. ‘This is ridiculous.’
‘The phone’s ringing,’ Andrew said.
Brian and Claire wouldn’t look at me.
‘Fine, whatever,’ I said, and stormed out to the street.
‘Son of a bitch!’ I yelled and kicked the first thing I saw – a bag of garbage.
I continued around the neighborhood, cursing at Andrew, saying, ‘Spineless asshole’ and ‘Rich fuck.’ Then I noticed people looking at me with fear and disgust, and trying to avoid me, the way I used to try to avoid the ranting lunatics in the neighborhood.
I sat in the public, outdoor seating at the Starbucks on 85th and First. As I calmed down, I realized that while the ranting was new, my behavior was familiar – blaming others for my problems. Andrew had fired me, but had Andrew made me go on Discreet Hookups? Even Rob McEvoy hadn’t forced me to go on. I was the one who’d made the bad decisions, I was the one who’d fucked up. But it was always easier for me to get angry than to self-reflect. Call it my fatal flaw.
But at least I knew I had a problem, which meant I wasn’t so far gone, right? I was doing the best I could to get my shit together and had to resist falling into the trap of becoming too hard on myself. Blaming myself could be just as destructive as blaming others. I had to give myself a pass.
Also, there was always the chance that my perception could be warped. Stress could do that to a person.
Maybe my whole life wasn’t as fucked up as it seemed. Maybe it just felt that way. After all, I had Anthony working for me now.
I texted Anthony: Hey, anything going on?
He got right back to me: How you doin? The jeans fit?
The response didn’t exactly inspire confidence. I was in trouble, depending on him, and he was asking about his jeans? I hoped he was taking this seriously and I hadn’t misjudged him. I’d lost my family, my apartment, my money, and now my job, and I was counting on a recovering hard-core drug addict, an ex-con, to bail me out?
I responded: Great any news???
He replied right away: In middle something big call u later
I wasn’t sure what to make of this. Did ‘something big’ mean a break in the case? At least he didn’t sound like he was strung out on heroin. At this point I’d take any encouragement I could get.
I started walking again, realizing I was only a few blocks from Jonah’s school. It was nine thirty – Maria must’ve dropped him off an hour ago. I could go to the school, just to see him and say hi, let him know I was okay.
Without weighing the pros and cons of this, I headed over there.
I knew Florence, the security guard, very well. I’d known her since Jonah had started going to the school, for kindergarten.
I entered the school, and went up the short stairwell and approached her at her desk. She was a heavyset black woman, about fifty years old. While she was usually smiling, in a good mood, she had the tough-ass vibe of someone you didn’t want to mess with.
‘Hey, Florence, how are you?’
‘Hangin’ in there,’ she said. A copy of some tabloid magazine was open in front of her. ‘Woke up today, that’s one good thing, right?’
‘Now I feel a lot better about my own life,’ I said.
Even though what I’d said wasn’t particularly funny, she laughed.
‘I have to give my son his lunch, he forgot it,’ I said.
I patted my coat pocket, to imply his lunch was in there.
‘A’right,’ she said. ‘Have a great day.’
‘You too,’ I said.
After I signed in at the main office, I went right to Jonah’s classroom on the second floor. I just wanted to tell him I loved him and give him a reassuring hug. I only planned to stay in the school for a few minutes, tops.
The hallway was empty except for a girl who passed by me, clutching a hall pass, probably on her way to the bathroom.
‘Hey,’ I said.
She looked away, maybe remembering what her parents had told her about not talking to strangers.
That, or she’d gotten a bad vibe about me.
Through the windowed door, I peered into Jonah’s classroom.
His teacher, Lauren – blond, pregnant, in her twenties – saw me. She seemed concerned, even a little panicked. I wasn’t sure why. Was she just surprised? If so, why the panic?
I smiled, then shifted my eyes toward the students to indicate that I was here to see Jonah. She remained where she was, still with that odd deer-in-headlights look, as if trying to figure what to do.
I needed to talk to her, explain why I was here. As I entered the classroom, she rushed over, blocking me from opening the door fully and entering.
‘You’re not supposed to be here, Mr Harper.’
‘I just need to talk to Jonah for a second.’
‘Please go away.’
I saw Jonah – he was at his desk, waving to me. It was so great to see his face. It had only been about two days since I’d seen him last, but it felt like years.
I motioned with my arm for him to come over to me.
‘Mr Harper, you have to leave right now,’ Lauren said.
Jonah came over. After what I’d been through the past couple of days it was amazing to see him.
‘Hey, kiddo,’ I said, and hugged him and picked him up a little.
Lauren, sounding panicked, like I was a school shooter or something, said to another boy, ‘Go get Ms. Wong. Right now, out the back door.’
The boy darted out of the classroom. I noticed the remaining kids looked scared.
‘Whoa, what’s going on?’ I said. ‘Everything’s gonna be okay,’ I said to the class. ‘I’m just here to talk to Jonah for a couple minutes, that’s it.’
‘Mom said I can’t talk to you,’ Jonah said.
The whole class, and Lauren, had overheard this. I felt embarrassed, even humiliated.
Bending down, I whispered into Jonah’s ear, ‘Mom’s just angry right now and that’s okay. Sometimes people get angry, okay? But I just came here to tell you I love you and everything’s going to be okay. Okay?’
Then I looked in Jonah’s eyes and saw he was crying. He was shaking a little too.
‘Come on, stop it,’ I whispered. ‘It’s me, Daddy. I love you.’
‘I love you too,’ he managed to say before he began full on bawling.
It hit me that by coming to the school I hadn’t made things any better. I’d made things much, much worse.
‘Get away from the child.’
I looked back over my shoulder and saw that Florence and the principal, Ms. Wong, had entered the classroom. This wasn’t affable Florence of a few minutes earlier. This was angry, no bullshit, ready-to-beat-the-crap-out-of-me-if-she-had-to Florence.
Jonah was still crying. Fuck, why did every positive thing I tried to do dissolve into a total shit storm?
‘Don’t worry, it’s okay,’ I said to Jonah.
‘Away!’ Florence grabbed my wrist with a clamp-like grip and pulled me backward so hard I stumbled.
Lauren went to Jonah and tried to calm him down.
‘Okay, okay, I’m leaving, you can let go,’ I said to Florence.
‘Damn right you’re leaving,’ Florence said, pulling me into the hallway.
‘It’s okay,’ I said to Jonah, but I didn’t think he heard me.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said to Florence. ‘It was a misunderstanding. You can let go of me now. I’ll leave right now.’
She let go.
‘Nobody told me you weren’t allowed into the school.’
‘Nobody told me either,’ I said.
‘I could put your ass in jail, you understand that?’
I didn’t know if this was true or not, but I didn’t want the school to notify Maria. If Maria exaggerated the situation, reported that I’d tried to kidnap Jonah from school, I’d definitely go back to jail, and might not get out so quickly next time.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I’m leaving and I won’t come back, I promise. I’m sorry if I put you in an awkward position.’
‘Just get your ass outta here,’ she said.
Leaving the school, I felt energized. While coming to see Jonah had been risky, I was still glad I’d done it. When he first saw me I could tell how happy he was. He’d only gotten upset because of Lauren’s reaction, because he was confused.
Heading toward the Lexington Avenue subway, I was excited about the future. Soon things would return to normal, I’d get another chance, and this time I wouldn’t make the mistake I’d made before – I wouldn’t take the positive things in my life for granted. I’d gotten into a rut in my marriage and with work, but I wouldn’t take those little moments for granted again. I’d get a new job – in real estate, or maybe something music related. I’d always wanted to teach music; maybe I’d teach, work with kids.