Bio-Justice

by Scott Takemoto

  When he arrived in New York, Danny left the Amtrak train at Penn Station and descended onto the subway platform where the C train would take him back to Brooklyn. He had a small satchel with him, carrying a change of clothes including two shirts, a toothbrush, a razor and an opened half-pint of Hennessy cognac. He hadn’t had a drink since the night he had been arrested, so when he collected his money in Chicago the first purchase he made—even before he bought his train ticket—was the Hennessy in a stop at Al’s Liquor and Wines a half block up from Union Station near the Loop. He took a slug right outside the store in a side alley and nothing he could recall had ever tasted so good. By the time he checked into a local flophouse off Atlantic Avenue in Brooklyn, there was just a little left in the smoky flat bottle but rather than take it down in one long smooth swallow, he held onto it as a promise of good things to come.

  When Danny hit the street outside his hotel, he lit a cigarette and surveyed the old neighborhood with a curious nostalgia. Everything was the same—the stores, the make of cars, the fashion, the way girls wore their makeup, the noise—but he was not. It felt like an unsettling dream where he was a stranger in his own house.

  Looking at a group of three young women standing on the street corner giggling, Danny reflected that only eighteen months ago, he would have been sticking his nose in the middle of the group, flirting and laughing with them, maybe making a play on the cutest one.

  Walking on, he saw a couple of young guys sitting on the hood of some parked cars, smoking and pushing each other around. The guys, shaggy and heavily tattooed, started mixing it up with some fake punching moves, their biceps rising and falling, exalting in their own youthful power.

  That was when Danny was startled by a short middle aged man who popped up and tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, buddy,” the man wheezed in his face, “you know where a guy can place a bet? My old bookie died on me last week and I don’t know where to go.”

  This man, who had reached past so many strangers to approach him, repulsed Danny, not only by his shabby appearance but because of the man’s easy identification with him.

  “Get out of my face, old man,” Danny barked.

  The middle aged man, shocked by the response, turned on Danny who tried in vain to move away from him. “Old man? Look who’s talking, you dried up bastard! Screw you!”

  The man was creating a scene and Danny fled, ducking into a corner grocery, a mom and pop store Danny had patronized many times in another life.

  The grocery’s owner, a well-groomed Middle Eastern man, stood behind the register as Danny burst into his establishment. As Danny approached him, the store owner gave him the once over and noticed him searching the counter as if he were desperate to find what he was looking for. The owner kept his hand briefly on a wooden T-ball bat he had under the counter in case a would-be robber mistook him for an easy payout.

  “A pack of Marlboros, a beef jerky and one of those coconut macaroon cookies in the jar,” Danny recited.

  The grocer retrieved the items, rang them up and bagged them. “Eight seventy-five.”

  Danny handed the grocer a ten and received the change, along with a soft laugh and an unwelcome comment.

  “You know, it’s funny. A kid used to come in here every few days and buy the exact same things you just did.”

  “Same tastes, I guess,” Danny said, doing his best to truncate the conversation.

  “Heard he killed a cop and went to prison,” the grocer said, shaking his head. “Someone said he died there.”

  The grocer gave Danny a puzzled look when he replied, “Yeah, maybe he did.”

  Standing before Sonya’s apartment building, Danny suddenly felt terrified. Late afternoon was drifting into twilight and shadows were gathering at his feet. He had looked forward to this moment for an eternity. It’s what sustained him in his darkest, most desperate hours. He didn’t know which would be more frightening—seeing Sonya again or looking into the face of the child he had created with her. He wished he had that bottle of Hennessy with him now. As he took a step toward the stoop of the brownstone, a car rushed to a stop behind Danny and a man of thirty called out to him.

  “Danny!”

  Danny strained his sight but could not recognize the man who called out to him with such familiarity. Tall, curly haired, maybe ten pounds underweight, the man beckoned him with two bony fingers folding back towards his face. “Danny, come here!”

  Not sensing any immediate threat, Danny leaned into the open passenger window of the car, a dark blue Acura.

  “Do I know you?”

  “Get in,” the man said.

  “What for?”

  “Listen, we know you hopped the first train out of Chicago. Exactly like you were not supposed to do. I was at Penn Station waiting for you but you got on that C train before I could get to you. Come on, do me a favor and get in.”

  Danny looked up at Sonya’s apartment window which was lighted and then opened the car door and got in.

  “Louis Castillo,” the man said extending his hand. Danny shook it before Louis pulled into traffic and cursed at another driver who sped up when he saw Louis trying to merge his way in. “Prick—” Louis shook his head. “I’m telling you, Danny, why you would fight your way back to this rude, nasty shithole is beyond me.”

  “So you guys have been tailing me?”

  “What do you think—after what you’ve been through, you think we’re going to let you dance away into the sunset…by yourself? Come on, there’s a lot of people in high places who have a lot on the line when it comes to how you turn out.”

  Danny was bristling, fidgeting in his seat. “So I’m going to have a shadow for the rest of my life?”

  Louis turned and gave Danny a sour lemon look. “Be serious. Look, this is the first time you’re on your bike and I’m your training wheels. We expect you to learn but we don’t want you to fall on your face before you even get started.”

  “OK,” Danny said, calmed a little by Louis’ analogy, “so what do you do?”

  “Nothing as glamorous as what you’re thinking,” Louis sighed. “I’m just a social worker and you’re just another case file. Since Bob Redmond in Chicago got gypped out of working on your case, you’re going to report to me twice a week, in my office, two o’clock sharp—no excuses, no bullshit emergencies—just be there.” Louis handed Danny his business card. “Pretty close to where you’re hanging out right now. By the way, I’d take a look at those sheets periodically. I’ve had guys staying there complain about bedbugs.”

  “The Plaza didn’t have any vacancies.”

  Louis laughed. “I like a smartass who can make me laugh. I’ll see about trying to get you a cheap apartment.”

  “Now that we’re done with the introductions, drive me back,” Danny said.

  “Can’t do that, Danny,” Louis said. At a red traffic light, he turned to face Danny. “Listen, you can’t see her.”

  “What?”

  “You can’t see her. Or her son,” Louis said, driving again. “Ever.”

  “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

  “Danny, look. Do you want to ruin that girl’s life? Or yours for that matter? I’m telling you, stay away from her.”

  “Let me out. Let me out of this fucking car!”

  Louis reached for Danny’s arm. Danny yanked it back with a threatening violence. Louis nodded and held up his hand. “OK. OK, Danny. I’ll take you back. But I’ll tell you one thing I can’t stand. I can’t stand ‘I told you so’s’. Please don’t turn me into a goddamn ‘I told you so’.

  “Just take me back.”

  The blue Acura pulled in front of the Victorian style brownstone and Danny got out, slamming the door. Louis pulled away with him watching until the car turned a corner. Danny looked up and saw the window was still lit and waited until another tenant opened the front door with her key. He caught the door before it locked shut.

  Danny climbed the two flights to Apartment 303 and stared at the
front door, listening to some muffled sounds coming from inside. He heard the sound of a fussing baby and this more than anything seemed to deliver Danny’s whole life to this defining moment of truth. His heart started to pound and suddenly, he was knocking on the door. His eyes went to his aged, tarnished hand and his heart sank as the door opened and Sonya appeared.

  “Yes?”

  Sonya looked at Danny and for a moment her eyes squinted as if she saw something familiar in his face and then shifted to a more guarded, cautious stance. “Are you looking for someone? I didn’t buzz you in.” Her hand gripped the knob, ready to slam the door if she picked up the slightest untoward movement.

  Danny’s eyes took in Sonya—the lovely face, the pouty mouth, her long wild streaming hair, the perfect figure. She had stayed as he had imagined her—young, beautiful, sensuous—but her eyes looked at him impatiently, as one would an annoying peddler.

  “Sonya.”

  A shadow fell over Sonya’s face—a shade of dread—a gray, cold hint of disbelief and unexpected revulsion.

  “Sonya, it’s me.”

  Tears were welling up along Sonya’s bottom lids, threatening to spill over, but her eyes remained transfixed, frightened. “Danny…It is you.”

  “Can I come in?”

  Sonya opened the door wider and Danny slowly shuffled in.

  “Place looks the same,” he said, looking around. He could see a portable crib set up in the living room. His son was squirming about, making sounds, bubbling saliva.

  Danny stood over the crib, looking at his son while Sonya closed the front door and then motioned for him to sit down.

  The room was quiet except for the sound of his rustling clothes. Danny sat down in a chair that faced the sofa where Sonya had settled into. He caught her stealing glances, her eyes traveling over the face and the body she had once known so intimately, searching for a connection to her past in one place, only to move along to another, then another.

  “I guess you’re surprised.”

  Sonya’s laugh was uncomfortable, slightly bitter. “Yes. Surprised.”

  “I know I look bad right now…”

  Sonya jumped too quickly. “No. No, you look good.”

  Danny shook his head sympathetically. “We both know that’s not true.”

  “They did that Bio-Justice thing to you.”

  “Yeah. But I’m getting stronger every day. I’m eating well. The body isn’t what it used to be. But I’ll work out and pretty soon—maybe I’ll dye this mop a little, get some decent clothes—it’ll be like old times…almost.”

  Sonya let Danny’s words hang in the air and fall uselessly to the floor.

  “I missed you,” she said.

  Danny’s face lit up like a carnival ride. “Yeah? Well, all I’ve thought about was you. And the baby. Oh, Sonya—” Danny rose from his seat to join Sonya on the sofa but her outstretched hand surprised him. He sank back down in his chair.

  “I missed…you. You, the man who was taken from me that night. I don’t want to hurt you but I don’t who this person is who’s sitting over there.”

  “I’m the same. I’m Danny. Can’t you see?”

  A hardened cast seized Sonya’s face, her voice grew sharp and emotionless. “Danny, I said goodbye to you a long time ago. I’ve got a new life now. I told you that in my letter.”

  “But that was before you knew I was getting out.”

  Sonya’s hardened stance imploded without warning. She let out a violent wail. Her eyes started streaming, her breathing lurching with sobs. “Danny!! Danny!”

  Danny jumped up to comfort her only to have Sonya almost leap up to push him back.

  “No!” she cried.

  Once again, Danny sat down.

  Sonya’s face was ugly with tears. She sniffled and grabbed at some tissue in a box nearby. She took a couple of deep breaths. “Why did they let you out?”

  “Sonya, what are you saying?”

  “Why did they let you out? I spent a hundred nights wanting to kill myself. If I didn’t have the baby…” She took a deep breath and spoke slower, more deliberately. “Finally, finally…I was able to close that door. With the support of my family and my friends, I was finally able to move on. I knew you would be away from me for as long as I lived. It was like you were dead, only I couldn’t visit your grave. And I was grateful for that. Whatever good things I felt about you, whatever love I had, I could channel it to my baby…and in that way I could forget that you ever existed.”

  “No,” Danny said, a plea.

  “Why are you here, Danny?”

  “Sonya, I know I put you through a lot, but I give you my word, from now on—”

  “No!” Sonya snapped. “There is no from now on. There is nothing between us anymore.”

  “Sonya, I don’t believe you. You’re upset. I—”

  “Danny,” Sonya said resentfully, as if playing a card she was being forced to throw down, “I have a new man now. He treats me well and I love him. And he loves my son.”

  Danny was speechless for a moment, then his face relaxed. “Sonya, you’re so beautiful. I knew you weren’t going to collect dust on the shelf. I knew there would be guys sniffing around when I was gone. But I’m back.”

  “Danny, you were my whole world,” Sonya said. “When they put you away, did you want me to just curl up and die?”

  “No,” Danny said. “Look at me.”

  At his beckoning, Sonya looked deeply into Danny’s eyes and for a moment, she saw him for what he once was. Her face softened and through her tears, she instinctively took his hand and got up, slowly leading him into the bedroom. There, Danny watched Sonya undress. And suddenly, she was on the bed naked before him, her body ripe and wondrous in youth and undulating curve. Softness was everywhere, in her rounded shoulders, her large ample breasts, her wide hips, her pouting belly and her opening thighs. Danny felt himself hardening and he said a silent prayer of thanks that he was not impotent. He wanted to take her totally and completely and make her forget all that had happened since their separation.

  Danny quickly removed his clothes and sat beside Sonya, taking her into his arms. He inhaled the heavy scent of her warm flesh and he worried the pleasure he felt shimmering through his body would drive him mad. He mashed his mouth against Sonya’s while grabbing her pillowy breast in one hand. Pushing her back on the bed, he almost smothered her body as if he would be lost if he let go. When he buried his face in the soft of her neck, Danny could feel Sonya’s head wresting back and forth until she screamed.

  “No!”

  Danny broke immediately but thinking he misunderstood, began to dip again towards her open body. “Oh, Sonya,” he whispered.

  “Danny, I can’t do it,” she said with an unmistakable finality, stopping him cold.

  “You can. Forget him, Sonya. I’m the one you love,” he insisted.

  Sonya sat up straight and pushed back away from Danny. Her hands grasped for the sheet and she covered herself. “No,” she said before continuing on. “You’re not the same person. The Danny I loved, the Danny I had a baby with— He doesn’t have your face, he doesn’t have your body. He had a different smell than you.”

  Danny looked away from Sonya and she grabbed for her clothes, putting them back on quickly.

  “I’m sorry,” Sonya said.

  There was nothing for Danny to do but to get dressed. He hurried, for he was embarrassed and horrified to have his unacceptable body exposed to her now. After he finished dressing, Danny slowly followed Sonya into the living room.

  Sonya’s voice was dead of affection. “I want you to leave, Danny.”

  “Sonya, no—”

  Sonya grabbed at Danny’s sleeve. Suddenly her eyes were lit with madness. “Go, Danny. Go, before I scream ‘Rape!’ I will, Danny. They’ll take you away and fuck you up again!” The tears burst from Sonya’s heavy-lidded eyes again, her nose ran liquid to her angry mouth. “Just go, Danny. Please.”

  Danny backed away from Sonya
. He peered over at the crib and then looked for permission.

  Sonya nodded weakly.

  “What’s his name?” Danny asked.

  “Phillip,” she said.

  Danny walked over to the crib and leaned over. He saw the round, pink bright face, the wormy fingers grasping onto a rattle. His eyes caught the baby’s and it smiled. He searched the baby’s face for himself but he had to admit it looked more like Sonya.

  “Hey, Phillip,” he crooned. He pried one of the baby’s fingers off its rattle with his crooked finger and let the small hand encircle it.

  “Danny—”

  “I’m going,” he said as he took one last lingering look at the child and then hurried through the front door, closing it hard behind him.

  Sonya rushed to the door, her forehead touching the cool surface, listening to Danny’s footsteps fading down the stairs, her eyes spilling all she had held in. She sobbed—violent, wracking sobs—and in between breaths, she cursed Danny’s name out loud until her voice finally failed her.

  CHAPTER 9

  “Go ahead.”

  “What?”

  “Just say it,” Danny said.

  Louis leaned back in his seat. His fingers drummed on the desktop for a moment, then he picked up a sharpened pencil and pointed it at Danny. “Listen, you may not believe it, but I may be the only one on your side.”

  Danny shrugged, unimpressed.

  “What did you think she was going to do? Say, ‘Baby, what took you so long? City hall opens at eight o’clock. We can get hitched then.’?”

  “Keep going.”

  Now that Danny was sufficiently deflated, Louis edited himself and cut his eyes over at his client’s forlorn figure. “How about if we get you a job? Get a little stability going on. Even if you had the most miniscule chance in hell of winning her back, do you think she’s going to even consider it if you’re the unshaven, unkempt drifter you seem to think attracts women? Get a job, get a place—not the roach motel you’re staying at—buy some decent clothes, figure out how you’re going to present the new old you; then, at least you’re in the game.”