Farewell from Paradise

by Saltzman, Brent

“Thanks, hun.”

  Then she got up and left to wait on the bumbling men as they squeezed into a booth on the other side of the dining room. They practically screamed their orders. The place suddenly reeked of cigarette smoke.

  But then, something weird happened.

  Delaney pulled up a chair and sat with them, talking to them.

  Had it all been a ruse? Sam’s heart sank. Was it all for the tip?

  The men were drunkenly laughing. One even put his arm around her. She seemed receptive. Was it all an act? He couldn’t understand what they were saying. It was muffled and garbled. There were too many voices at once. It was all just a slurry of mindless babble.

  Gio walked over and held a check out toward him. “I’ll make a deal with you, man.”

  Sam looked up.

  “You ask that girl out, and I forget about this bill and I’ll even start putting extra cheese on your fries for free.”

  He hesitated. Thought. “…Why would you do something like that for me?”

  “Because Del’s a nice girl. Smart, cute, good kid. Down on her luck lately. Doesn’t have much to look forward to these days.” He leaned in, whispered, “Plus, she needs to get laid.” He looked over at the slovenly drunks. “Not raped.”

  He considered it.

  “You better make your move now.”

  One of the drunken men’s hands was slowly moving down Delaney’s back.

  Sam took a breath. Braced himself. Stood. Walked over. Everyone looked up at him. Silence.

  “Hey,” he said to Delaney. “You want to maybe…I don’t know…hang out outside this place?”

  The drunks were holding back laughter.

  “Uh, yeah, sure,” she replied. It almost sounded doubtful.

  What now?

  One of the men couldn’t help it anymore and started chortling, rubbing his belly.

  Sam felt…somewhat angry. “When do you get off?” he asked sharply.

  “Uh…”

  Gio walked over. “You can go ahead and take off. It’s been slow tonight.”

  The men’s laughter abruptly died.

  “Thanks!” She gave her boss a peck on the cheek, grabbed her purse and jacket, then led Sam out the door and into the night.

  Gio, with his massive six-foot-two, three hundred and fifty pound frame, stood over the four extremely disappointed men and smiled. “Good evening, my name’s Giovanni and I’ll be taking care of you all tonight.”

  6

  The Right Moment

  The rain had calmed. Standing water glistened in the streets. Not many people were out and about. Sam and Delaney trekked side-by-side along a sidewalk, surrounded by buildings. There were only a few cars out. It felt like the city was theirs.

  “So you’re an author?” she asked.

  “Um, trying to be.”

  “Well you got books published, right?”

  “Eh. Nothing really worth a damn yet.”

  She squinted. “Why do ya say that?”

  “Can’t get in with a big company.”

  “Have you tried?”

  “Did, yeah. There’s just too much luck involved. Right agent, right day. Hope they woke up on the right side of the bed. And every time I climb a step, I fall down two more. Eventually, I guess, you just stop climbing.”

  “Well that don’t sound like a good alternative.”

  He shrugged. They waited at a crosswalk for a few seconds. The light didn’t change. They looked both ways, saw the streets were clear, then jaywalked. They continued on the other side, passing bars and little shops, most of which were still open. Some people stood around outside, talking. Their breath clouded the chilly air.

  “So what are they about?” Delaney asked.

  He always hated this part. “I don’t really like talking about them, to be honest.”

  “Please!” she beamed.

  “Well,” he cleared his throat. “I’m kind of…well…I can be a little nerdy sometimes.”

  “Really? Those foam bullets you used to shoot had me fooled…”

  “That’s good, that’s good. I wrote about a city once. Called Paradiso. I always loved cities, so I made my own up. Wanted to go to Pittsburgh when I was little. I also wrote about one in the ocean called Atlas.”

  “An underwater city? Like Atlantis?”

  “Kinda, yeah. I’ve always been into that nerdy stuff.”

  “Well, I could probably use some of that nerdy stuff in my life, so it works out.”

  She was incredible. So different, yet so perfect. She was a walking paradox.

  “So can I ask you a question now?” Sam asked.

  “As long as it ain’t about anything nerdy because I’m not up to snub…”

  “Your eyes.”

  She frowned. Looked away. Ashamed? Embarrassed?

  “They’re beautiful,” he said.

  Surprised.

  “I’ve never met anyone with those colors before. It’s…it’s amazing…”

  Her response was dreamy. Her voice was euphoric. “I…I just…most people don’t see it that way…”

  “How do they see it?”

  “As weird. I used to get made fun of a lot in school. Lil’ Miss Cat Eyes.”

  “Well, most people are stupid. Probably jealous.”

  “Yeah.” She tapered off. “Yeah, they are…”

  They talked for a little more. Storm clouds tumbled about.

  “Alright, my turn,” she said. “What’s with the watch?”

  Sam looked down at his wrist. His watch hands were frozen in time, a faint crack across the glass face. “It broke. Long time ago.”

  “Duh. How?”

  He felt uneasy. A part of him didn’t want to answer. But lying wasn’t his forte. “My dad and I…he’s not…the best person in the world.”

  She nodded.

  He continued. “He’s what some people might call…a monster?”

  She raised her eyebrows.

  “We got in a little scuffle, right before I came up here. He was trying to do something he shouldn’t have and most of the time I’m bottled up, but sometimes…I don’t know…Long story short, I’ve got a broken watch. Of course, the second hand broke long before that, but the fight just sealed the deal. And I wear it to remind myself to keep everything inside.”

  “You can’t just keep it in like that, though, you know. You gotta let it out sometimes. Just make sure you got it under control.”

  “I know, I know, it’s just—”

  The roar of thunder. The rain started to fall. It was heavy. Torrential. A monsoon. Sam and Del ran for cover. Their shoes splashed in the puddles. They were both laughing when they reached the bottom of an apartment building, standing behind a waterfall washing over an awning.

  “This is my stop,” she said. She looked up at the crumbling building. “Home sweet home…” She turned to Sam. “I’ve had a really nice time with you tonight, though.”

  “I did, too.”

  “Of all the guys who’ve hit on me since I’ve been here, you’re my favorite so far.”

  “Uh, thanks, I guess.”

  There was a strange moment. Just a moment. The rain behind them. The glow of the streetlights. The calm. There was a moment where he wanted to lean in and kiss her. He could feel it.

  But he couldn’t do it.

  What if she turns away?

  “Well, I’ve got to do the mornin’ shift and it’s gettin’ kind of late,” she said.

  And then, the moment passed. It was gone.

  “Yeah.” Sam nodded nervously. “Definitely.”

  “Thanks for walkin’ me home, Sam.”

  “Yeah, any time.”

  “Good night.” She smiled again and turned to her building’s door.

  Sam, wake the hell up! I just made a new friend, relax. Are you a freaking idiot, Sam! No, I just don’t want to risk it. There is nothing to risk. But…

  “Hey,” he said.

  She looked back.

  “How about tomorrow
night, if you’re not busy, we go somewhere where maybe you can get waited on for once?”

  She put her hands on her hips. “Are you askin’ me out?”

  “Um…”

  “Because I’d like that.”

  “Oh, uh, well, okay.” He stumbled through his words. Thought quickly. He wasn’t prepared for success. “There’s a place at the corner of One-Sixty-Ninth and Broadway—”

  “Coogan’s?”

  “Yeah, yeah that’s it.”

  “Eight o’ clock?”

  “Uh…sure?”

  She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. Her lips were warm in the cold.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she whispered.

  “Yeah…definitely.”

  She went into her building and closed the door. Sam started walking back to his apartment. The hard rain struck his face and ran down his shoulders. The icy wind bit at his neck and hands. A passing car splashed water over his already-soaking clothes.

  But he didn’t care.

  At that moment, none of that mattered at all.

  7

  The Rabbit Hole

  The sun poked through the clouds. Bus stops filled up with kids going to school and adults going to work. New York’s streets crept to life. It was all so beautiful, so vibrant, so organic. Even the incessant droning of Sam’s cell phone alarm felt like sweet music. When he opened his eyes, there was no grogginess, no fatigue, no unrelenting fear of facing the commute and sitting in his cubicle like a goldfish trapped in a bowl. The line for the shower didn’t feel so long, the tie around his neck didn’t feel so tight and the outside air didn’t feel so cold. There was even room on the bus to sit down and stretch his legs.

  It was going to be a good day.

  It was turning into a terrible day. The elevator jammed halfway up his office building, so he spent twenty minutes packed into a six-by-five-foot room with ten strangers typing on their smartphones and sipping overpriced coffee. His jacket suddenly felt like a sauna suit and he loosened his tie early. When the doors finally opened, it was like coming up for air.

  William Watson passed him in the hall. He gave him an inquisitive nod. “Watch your tie there, buddy.”

  “Oh, sorry.” Sam tightened it up. Who the hell cared?

  Then, he sat down at his desk, and waited.

  Three hours passed.

  No assignments.

  He was planning to make a fake trip to the bathroom, taking care to use the longest possible route to kill some time. But before he could get out of his chair, Watson’s chubby redheaded assistant was standing in his cubicle. “Eight-three-oh, Mr. Watson would like to see you in his office when you have a chance.”

  “Uh, sure. Is something wrong?”

  “Why don’t you go talk to him, he’s waiting for you. Have a dandy day!”

  “Oh, okay. Thanks…” He stood and started down the aisle. He walked slowly. Every eye in every cube turned to him as he passed by. Dead man walking. He looked back at his cubicle when he reached Watson’s office door. His assistant was just standing there, hands behind her back, a scavenger patiently waiting to clean the last strips of flesh from a carcass after the lion’s finished its meal. Nervously, he knocked.

  “Ah, Mr. Pierce, come on in,” came Watson’s muffled voice from the other side.

  Sam entered. The office was bigger than his apartment. A glass window stretched all the way along the back wall, Lower Manhattan sprawling into the distance beyond. There was a little round table in the corner, where a man in a gray jumpsuit was diligently polishing a pair of expensive looking black shoes. Watson was sitting back in his plush leather chair, his socked feet on his desk, the homepage of an online golf shop on his computer screen.

  He stood and awkwardly shook Sam’s hand. “Take a seat, take a seat!”

  “Thank you, sir.” He took a seat. Sat straight up. Forearms to his thighs. Hands clasped. Disciplined. Obedient.

  His boss sighed. He leaned forward. His words were dull, rehearsed. “Mr. Pierce, let me start off by saying just how important you’ve been to our little family here.”

  Uh oh.

  The bus ride home felt a lot longer than the bus ride to work. It usually did, but today it was far more noticeable. And it was more crowded than normal. There weren’t any seats available. Figured. After a forty-minute ride, he jumped off and transferred to the subway. No seats there, either. He had to stand up, a shoebox of things from his old desk stuffed under his arm. At one point the train buckled. A picture fell out, smacking the floor. No one helped him pick it up. Beneath the spider-webbed glass was a picture of a little girl in a hospital room hooked up to a plethora of different machines. She was surrounded by friends and family. A young Samuel Pierce stood next to the bed, arm over her shoulder. She looked happy. They both looked happy. They both looked hopeful.

  Thunder groaned overhead. It started raining the second he stepped out of the 191st Street station. He was soaked in minutes. His fingers made holes in the shoebox’s softening cardboard as they held it tight.

  He threw off his jacket when he entered his apartment. He put the shoebox on his desk and opened his laptop, then pulled up his bank account. The numbers scared him: less than eight hundred dollars.

  He put his head in his hands. What to do, what to do…

  Timidly, he pulled out his phone and dialed.

  His sister answered on the first ring: “Hello?”

  “Hey...”

  “Hey. I’m glad you called.” The solemnness of his sister’s tone betrayed her words. Did she get the check yet? “We got the check today.”

  Great.

  “Yeah.” Sam sighed. “About that. I was just—”

  “Hold on.” She shouted something. His nephew’s name. Oh, no…

  “Hello?” Logan’s voice. It sounded…cheery. Upbeat. Encouraged.

  “Hey, buddy…” He was startled. He usually had to beg to talk to him.

  He heard his sister in the background, “What do we say, baby boy?”

  “Thank you, uncle Sam.”

  Lightning sparked. It lit up the night. The rainwater in the streets shimmered.

  Sam gulped. “No problem, bud…”

  The phone went back to his sister. She thanked him, he said “no problem,” and that was the end of it. They said their goodbyes and hung up.

  He looked back at his bank statement. Did the math in his head.

  He’d have maybe thirty dollars left.

  By the time he got dressed for his date, he remembered to check the mail. He had a few letters. One of them had the logo of a publishing company in the corner of the envelope. He took a breath and opened it slowly, but read it hungrily: “Dear Mr. Pierce, while your work is…”

  He didn’t need to read any more.

  He clenched his fists, balled up the letter and hurled it at the window, just as another shot of blue fire roared down through the heavens. His apartment went black. The hum of electricity running through the walls abruptly ceased.

  He took another breath. A deep one.

  Hopefully Delaney was a fan of water and free bread.

  Traffic was miserable, the worst he’d ever seen. Horns honked constantly. People shouted through windows. Brakes screeched on the wet pavement. Sam anxiously checked the time on his cell phone as he stood at the crosswalk of a busy intersection. Already five minutes past eight and he was still two blocks from the restaurant.

  “Come on, come on! Slow down, please!” he shouted at the traffic.

  It apparently didn’t hear him. It just kept speeding along.

  His phone beeped. A text from Delaney: IM HERE. ARE YOU?

  He looked back up at the road. It was clear. But the orange hand on the pedestrian signal across the street still forbade his passage. Grumbling, he zealously pressed the little silver button on the streetlight pole over and over again.

  Finally, the little hand started flashing. Proceed with caution.

  He ran.

  Splashing in
the rainwater, he took off across the intersection. He was almost there. More than two-thirds of the way.

  That’s when he heard the honk of a car’s horn. Then the shriek of tires burning on the street. Then he saw the light. Like the white light of a storm. Then, a brief yet intense moment of sharp pain shot through his body like a burst of electricity.

  And then, nothing. Blackness. Calmness. Serenity.

  8

  The Warm Welcoming

  A quartet of cellists played a familiar lullaby from his childhood. Champagne glasses clinked. The lights were low. The dining room was massive, chandeliers hanging like stalactites in a cavern. Sam sat at a table in the center of the room. He was wearing a black tuxedo, his hair slicked, his face clean shaven; he looked like some a secret agent. Delaney sat with him. She had on a long red dress. Diamonds glinted around her neck. A melting candle served as the table’s centerpiece.

  She was finishing a laugh. “Tell me another one!”

  He thought. Sifted through his memories. “Okay, I got one. What did the DNA strand say to the RNA strand?”

  “I don’t know. What?”

  “‘Do these genes make my butt look fat?’”

  It took her a second. Then she laughed, covering her mouth and her perfect teeth.

  “See, the nerdy stuff can be funny, if you give it a chance,” Sam said.

  “As I’m learnin’!”

  A waiter came by and set down some plates of food. They didn’t notice. They didn’t care. Their eyes stayed linked. They both seemed happy. There was no shyness, no apprehension nor any modesty. Just comfort and joy, basking in the solace of each other’s company.

  She twirled her finger around the lip of her wine glass. “So, it’s awfully strange us meetin’ at this point in our lives. Kinda makes you wonder, don’t it?”

  “About?”

  “I dunno. Things, I guess. Coincidences.” She rested her chin on her knuckles. Her gaze was alluring. Seductive. “You ever think coincidences are ever more than that?”

  He paused. Then, gave his honest answer. “No.”

  “No?” She frowned.