by Andrew Birch
“Fancy eating here, Dreamer?” asked Groucho
“Sure man” said Dreamer in his sing song voice, “the poet eats with his people, sat on the floor where they know him best. I lay my hands on them”
“I think that means yes. You fancy it, squirt?”
“They never gonna let us in there”, Lol replied. Even if they would, no way we can afford it. I only got twenty bucks form my smoke sales today.”
“The scrap’s right”, said Groucho, “you’re altogether too smart looking.”
Lol didn’t like the sound of that one bit.
He looked her up and down.
“Take your sweater off”, he said to her. Lol didn’t like that at all, it was November, and she had no coat. Under her sweater was only an old white t shirt vest.
“Come on idiot”, shouted Groucho, “you wanna eat or not?”
Lol did so, and she pulled off the sweater.
Dreamer looked at it with interest,
“The little one smells of pain, her heart is blood and bone, so hard and lost and beautiful.”
“Hmm”, replied Groucho turning again to Lol, “now take your shoes and socks off.”
“Huh!” exclaimed Lol, “No fucking way”
“You want to eat or don’t ya?”
“Why do I have to have bare feet to eat?” Lol said, “you gonna eat my shoes?”
“bare feet never hurt any kid”, said Groucho getting impatient, “now you want to eat or not?”
Reluctantly, as it was a cold November day, and the last thing Lol wanted to do was to stand on the sidewalk with her socks and shoes off. But she kicked off the grey sneakers she wore, then bent down to take her white socks off too. She balled the socks up and put them in the shoes. Groucho took them off her, and put them in his pocket. The sidewalk was freezing to Lol’s feet, and she hoped they would go inside. But they didn’t.
“Here”, said Groucho moving to a bit of a dirt at the side of the road,
“Kick about in this for a bit”, he gestured, “you’re far too clean.”
Lol sighed, and padded over to the dirt pile and began to kick her bare feet about in the dirt. Suddenly, she was startled as Groucho was rubbing dirt on her face too,
“hey!” she shouted.
“That’s better”, smirked Groucho”, now you look like one of us.
And suddenly, despite the dirt and filthy on her face and in her hair, and her cold bare feet on the November sidewalk, she felt better than she ever had done in her young life before. ‘One of us’. No matter how old Lol would grow, she never forgot that feeling in that moment on the sidewalk that day. She would often remember it.
They went into the restaurant. There were several diners inside, mostly business types, either sitting alone of dining with women that weren’t their wives. It was a posh affair, with what called furry wallpaper. She was disappointed that there was no carpet for her cold little feet, it was all posh marble. All the diners and the maître Dee looked up at them.
“I’m sorry sir”, the maître Dee began, holding up his hand.
“please mister”, said Groucho in his most pathetic sounding voice, “My little girl needs feeding. My friend and I have managed to scrap up two dollars to pay for it sir.”
Groucho showed him two dollar bills that Lol had given him,
“We were saving the money to buy her some shoes for the winter”, he said, looking down at my dirty feet, “A sweater too.”
“If this money isn’t enough”, added in dreamer, “I’m a poet. I can rap for you.”
“Or we can wash dishes”, added Groucho hurriedly, “I just want some hot food inside my little girl. We’ve never been able to manage since her poor mamma…”
Lol let out a small sniff. Partly it was to hide her laughter form the story he was giving their ‘mark’. But she wanted to play her part. How easy it was to manipulate these people.
Sir”, said the maître Dee, “I have a heart. I would be honored to serve you in my restaurant. Of course there will be no charge.”
“God bless you”, said Dreamer quietly.
They ate, to preserve the places good name, in the back room that had, thankfully, a carpet which was a godsend for Lol. And how they ate. They were treated and served like Kings. A full five course banquet with doggy bags to take away, and two twenty dollar bills. Outside, Groucho handed her back her shoes, socks and sweater. Lol thought about what he’d said… ‘One of us’, and refused the things,
“I’m fine as I am”, she said sullenly.
But Groucho got cross.
“You won’t be one of us if you’re dead of hypothermia”, he grumbled, “and then whose gonna bury you’re sorry ass. Not me, that’s for sure. Besides, nobody’s telling you to wash your face. Bit of dirt never did a kid any harm.
They did the restaurant jaunt regularly. Sometimes with Dreamer, sometimes, when Dreamer was off getting a fix, just the two of them. Groucho got busy teaching Lol his tricks, and his many schemes, in between rambling about the government. At one time, it seemed, he’d had a family and a daughter of his own, but of that he would only say “Tinkerbell. Lost by the sea” Nothing more, and when Lol asked, he would get rather cross with her. The people at the home were cross with her all the time now, mainly due to her walking the streets most of the day and her scruffy hobo appearance. Lol often came back with her shoes around her neck, knotted together with the laces and walking barefoot on the sidewalk, but she was part of a group now, and in her own mind, wouldn’t have cared if they kicked her out. But all the same, it was nice to curl up in her nice warm bed, especially in winter. She suddenly thought of poor Groucho, out in the open air. There had to be a plan. But he didn’t know of any, or care enough to think of one. Most of the people in the hostels and boarding rooms knew Groucho, and had grown tired of his conspiracies and grifting ways.
“Give me an inch and I’ll take the whole damned yardstick”, he’d said.
And so Lol thought hard. She needed him to have a warm night, after all he was her friend and friends cared for each other. She’d learned that much. And so, one day when they were out combing the streets, Lol stopped outside the 4th street mission hostel for homeless people.
“Just a minute” she said and wandered inside.
“I ain’t allowed in there”, he shouted after her, “the fbi got to them, least I think it was them, some kind of secret service. They’re following me, ya know, kid.”
The kid had disappeared inside. Groucho wondered whether or not to wander off and leave her behind, but he couldn’t. The kid made him laugh, and she was clever. Didn’t meet so many clever kids these days, there was something in the damn Nintendo machines that made them dumb. Not this kid. This kid knew how to work a con. And, in some dark recess of his weakened mind, she reminded him of his Tinkerbell.
Tinkerbell. Lost in the sea.
Damn that kid, where was she. At that moment, she came through the door.
“I got myself a place in there for tonight”, she said matter of factly, before chuckling,
“Boo hoo”, she added, “I’m all homeless. Poor little me”
“Well that’s fantastic for ya”, he grunted, “now you got two places to sleep tonight. Think of poor me sleeping in a goddam doorway while you’re splitting yourself between the two”
“NO dumbass”, she said smiling, “I go in here nine o clock, leave the snick on the side door and go to bed. Then you sneak in here, come to the top floor, find my room and creep in.”
“How will I find your room”, he asked
“It’ll be the one with me in it, dumbass” she laughed, “I’ll leave it a little open. And I’ll save some food. Don’t go in another room though, don’t wanna be getting into bed with some other homeless guy”
“I ain't getting into bed with you! He growled, “I’ve smelled you up close!”
“Fine”, she said, “sleep on the floor. I know I’ll be comfortable”
“What will the home say”, he asked,
taking her hand as they walked away?
“Who cares”, she replied, “,maybe they’ll think I’ve been murdered?”
“Maybe you will be?” he said with a twinkle in his eye.
Later that evening, when the night was drawing in, Lol stuck to her plan to find somewhere warm for Groucho, and about the time she normally headed off for home, instead, she turned to go towards the 4th street mission. She told Groucho to wait in the alley, till later and everyone had gone to bed, and she would return. He didn’t mind, he was used to sitting in the bus stops and watching the city buses coming to and fro. Some of the drivers stopped and had a smoke with him, so well-known was Groucho, or Tinhat as they called him. About eleven pm, he heard a noise
“Psst”, came the noise.
Groucho looked round, but nothing.
“Psst”, came the voice, “are you deaf, idiot?”
Then he jumped up. He’d darned well forgot about the girl. There she was, wrapped in a blanket in the side alley beckoning to him,
“Well ya coulda just shouted, dumbass”, he grumbled.
“yeah, an I could just go in and back to my nice warm bed” she replied curtly.
The two friends crept inside through the side door that Lol had opened and sneaked up the two flights of dinghy stairs to the room they were letting Lol sleep in. Years later, she would remember this as one of the happiest times of her life, the night she slept with Groucho. It was nothing sinister or nasty, like you hear in the news nowadays. They didn’t even take their clothes off. He curled up on the bed, grateful for something warm for a change, then she climbed in beside him and he put his arms round her and they went quietly to sleep. He must’ve been happy, Lol figures after, cos he was mumbling about his Tinkerbell in his sleep. Lol figured that he must’ve thought she was his own lost daughter the way he held onto Lol all night.
“Tinkerbell”, he murmured, “you’re not lost. The sea didn’t take you. My Tinkerbell.”
“Shuddup Groucho” Lol grumbled.
“I got you back, Tinkerbell”, he mumbled again and held onto her tighter.
Lol went to sleep happy that night. Whatever happened in the future, tonight was all right.
Release looms
Six years. I’d been in prison six long years. I wondered where the thoughts of Groucho had suddenly come from, and I shivered at the memory that was tinged with bitterness and sorrow. The thoughts of that prisoner Marybeth were still sore in my mind, even though that incident had been a good while ago now. Maybe the memory of old Groucho soothed me in a way, I dunno. What would he have thought of the woman I’d become?
Marybeth. The name still haunted me even now, six years into my sentence. Not too much had changed since I’d toppled Diane as number one around here. I had the confidence now to wear my hair as I damn well pleased. It was shiny, long again and gorgeous. Nobody even dared look at me. I was the only supplier of drugs in here, and yeah, I was making plenty. But there was still Marybeth. That had happened a while ago. I had sent Big D to talk to her, and tell her the score, and she just beat the shit of the huge dyke who had fast become my friend and protector. Marybeth wasn’t huge, but she was athletic. She’d won medals for some athletic competition or other, I didn’t know what, I hadn’t listened to any of the rumours. She had a completely shaven head, which suited her ebony skin quite well. Didn’t seem to have any interest in me for the few days she was on our wing. Why take the risk, I’d thought at the time. I was more comfortable here than I’d ever been. I wasn’t about to lose it again. And so I sacrificed a part of my humanity to survive on the top of the pile for a little longer. With Big D saying she’d failed me and feeling wretched, I bribed one of the workshop girls with my entire stock of phone cards to make a shiv for me. This had better not go wrong. If it did I’d face twenty years.
It didn’t go wrong. It happened in the bathroom. Marybeth was careful, she watched for Alicia or any of my other goons following her in. But today they didn’t. As she stripped and went into the shower room, I was already there. Naked like her. With one hand behind my back,
“Something to say, alley cat?” she said smiling, full of confidence.
“I just wanted to…” I started.
But as I began to speak, I slashed her across the throat with the shiv that had been in my palm. She went down, and only thinking only of my own self-preservation, I finished the job. She looked at me as she died. Tears. I’ll always remember the tears as I murdered her in cold blood. And my only thought. Top of the pile for life. Nobody would ever challenge me now. I was young then, and flushed with the thoughts of my own abilities and strengths. Despite what Groucho had taught me, I was a full-fledged bad bitch now. As I looked at the woman bleed to death on the floor by my hand, the feeling of strength brought about my own evil would take years to shake off. I felt a little bit more of young Lol die as I ran from the bathroom.
Marybeth’s murderer was never found, but everyone secretly knew it was me. And they were afraid of me now. Respect brought about by fear. I was worse, and more powerful than Diane had ever been.
But now, six years into my sentence I had a visitor. His name was Allen Rigby. A face from my past.
***
Chapter 10. A cold new Morning
The blonde girl was fourteen now, still thin and under nourished, but the green eyes now shone, and she had attractive features and a smile like a tiger that was about to kill its prey. For all appearances, she was one of the homeless, and hung around still with Groucho and Dreamer. Horace Horseshit had gone away when Dreary had died the year before. They’d found her lifeless in the alley one morning still clutching her bottle of hooch. Dreamer wasn’t himself now either, he’d switched up from PCP and crystal meth to Smack, and the cons and tricks they pulled to keep Dreamer happy had to be much more elaborate these days. Groucho was scared for his friend, and thought of ways to wean his old comrade off the hard stuff, all to no avail. Sometimes he thought of just bagging up his belongings and walking off into the street, leaving Dreamer and the girl to it, but the young blonde kid brought the three of them together. Lol had never left his side since they met, apart from to go home to sleep. She was a full on homeless now most of the time like the rest of them, and never regretted it. They had plenty fun.
And he taught her a lot. Like the time she’d wanted to rifle through Dreary’s things,
“We ain’t animals” he’d said, “Animals turn on each other. They don’t see what they truly are. Turn into one and it’s hard to get back”
And so they simply covered Dreary’s face and left her.
And then one morning it happened. She’d wandered back to Halligan’s alley early the following day, bearing some stolen fruit and some cereal bars from the home.
That’s when the life of Lol ended. She always thought of this as the turning point in her existence, and would come back to it more than once, and always with a tear in her eye. This was the moment that ripped her heart from her chest and strangled her very breath in her lungs. No matter how jaded and cynical she would become later in her life, this was the one moment that could make her weep.
She found Dreamer in the alley, sobbing his heart out, laying down in the dirt. At first, suspecting he was high, she admonished him and looked for Groucho. He was always brightest in the mornings, and had energy. The old guy looked forward to seeing what food she had brought him. But this morning Groucho wasn’t around. With the icy fingers of fear suddenly clutching her heart, she crouched in the dirt with Dreamer to try to make him make sense. He was strung out, more so than usual, and probably hadn’t used for a while. It didn’t sink in at first, but eventually, Dreamer’s sobbed words reached her brain,
“Groucho dead”
“Groucho dead”
“Groucho dead”
Dead. Dreamer had woken in the night, and shook his friend to get some of the packet of what Groucho called Pixie dust from him. It was for emergencies. Dreamer hadn’t been able to wake his friend. And so he shout
ed and screamed in the street, until a late night cab office clerk had come running over, and dialed 911.
Groucho was dead.
***
She learned afterwards that he died peacefully in his sleep. That he should have been taking diabetes medication, but for years, he’d suspected the government of dosing him, so he hadn’t taken it. And so it was just Lol and Dreamer now. For a while they hung out together, but Dreamer was hard work without the snarkiness and bitter humour of Groucho to make her smile. She missed her friend terribly. Dreamer was constantly strung out and looking for the next fix. She saw him less and less, until one day she saw him never again. The last time anybody heard from him was when police found the body of an African American male in an abandoned apartment, dead of a heroin overdose. He’d become so desperate to find veins to inject the stuff he’d taken to injecting it between his toes. By all account he was in a pretty bad way. But by that time Lol would be far away.
The girl became a loner after that. She spent her days making money, in the way Groucho had taught her. The cigarettes scheme bored her now, plus she was too old to go hanging round a kindergarten playground. So, clad in her trusty red hoody, skinny worn jeans and favourite green sneakers, she left for town.
It was easy. Lol waited in line for the automated cash teller outside the subway station. She watched as the guy entered his card pin code. She held her ten dollar note in her hand
4819
As the money came rattling out the slot and he went to pick it up, she jostled him. He was startled, and at first thought he was being robbed.
“Hey”, he shouted, “what you doing?”
“Sorry”, she answered, “you dropped a ten dollar bill. Just saw it going on the floor”
He smiled at her then,
“Wow, thanks”, he said watching her sparking green eyes. He was in his thirties, and she was just sixteen and becoming gorgeous. For a moment he imagined taking her a hotel and banging the ass out of her. Blonde too, his favourite. He picked up the ten dollars, and smiled at her,