Gables Court

by Alan S. Kessler

  Samuel knew on cross-examination he’d have to make this good man who had suffered more than any person should, appear not only forgetful but motivated by guilt. A Sonderkommando wanting partial absolution by accusing Mr. Gelba of hurrying men, women, and children toward oblivion, a greater sin than burying the dead.

  Judge Kowalski had once said,

  “The law is sacred.”

  Samuel planned to use what he had learned tonight to help his client.

  He looked up at the vultures, flying free.

  12

  “Hey, Baas.”

  Samuel stopped, unable to move. How could a dead man sit there and speak?

  “Gary?”

  “Don’t look so shocked. Is it the beard? My handsome face?” His hair long and tangled, a short, serrated scar angled down from the middle of Gary’s forehead. “Or maybe it’s ‘cause I don’t have any legs. Here. I’m returning this. It didn’t do shit.” He handed Samuel the shamrock keychain.

  “I…I thought…”

  “Yeah, good old Gary got killed in Vietnam. Isn’t that a shame. Well I did. I’m a ghost!” Hands up, he wiggled his fingers, the comic gesture at odds with the hardness in his eyes.

  “Your letters stopped. I tried finding out—I missed you…”

  “You got an office or do I have to sit here in the reception area and hear about all the good times we had together?”

  “Sorry, Gary. Let me push.”

  “Get your goddamn hands off it! I’m fucking stronger than you are! Which way?”

  He rolled his wheelchair behind Samuel. Vera glanced over at him, then back while continuing to type.

  “Nice,” Gary said, looking out Samuel’s office window. “Chicks and the beach. The good life.” He spun his chair around. “I’m glad you got rid of that perm. I never told you. It made you look like a queer. Are you getting laid?”

  “I’m dating someone.”

  “A girl?”

  “Margaret.”

  “You didn’t answer my question. No! Don’t tell me! You’re still waiting for love! I already found my woman.”

  “That’s great,” Samuel said. “I’d like to meet her.”

  “Might be difficult. She’s in Nam. Her name’s Bouncing Betty. Fellow ahead of me, Parks, nice guy from Arkansas, stepped on her foot and she got pissed, leaped up, killed him, took off my legs and sent shrapnel into my dick and head. I gave her all the love I could. Now I have none for anyone else. I was in the hospital, then rehab, then rehabbed myself by drinking. I moved around a lot, found out San Diego is the best place to be homeless. It’s warm, there’s food and places to sleep other than under a bridge. I was really fucked up, still am. I’m angry that I fought in a useless war while mother fuckers like you stayed home and got rich. But I’m better. The VA shrinks helped.”

  Samuel didn’t defend himself. Gary was his best friend.

  “I left California, bought a van and went on tour,” Gary continued. “I visited Benny and Wolfman. They are just like I expected. Fat. Back in New Jersey, working for daddy. Ugly wives. We went out. They’re still trying to pick up women. Even without legs I did better. Too bad, though. I had to tell the gal I wasn’t interested. I was interested, but it takes more than that. The nerds were fun. I’m glad I saw them. I drove to the Jersey shore, checked out some of the old places, decided I’d head to Miami. That was two years ago. No rush. Now you have my whole life story. Cuts out the bullshit, the ‘Let’s get to know Gary again.’ The Rat’s the same. Gables Court is gone. What did they build there? It looks like a tenement.”

  “Condos,” Samuel answered.

  “Yeah, figures. Why rent to college kids when you can make millions stacking people on top of each other. Where do you live?”

  “In an apartment. It’s small.”

  “Figured you’d be in some fancy house by now. What are you doing with all your money?”

  “Saving it.”

  “I’m sure your little girlfriend agrees. Financial planning! Careful steps in a careful life. Does it ever bother you that you dodged the draft? Oh wait. I remember. You had a heart condition and a doctor’s note. How is your heart now, counselor? Any problems?”

  “No.”

  “Isn’t that miraculous! So, do you feel just a little guilty?”

  “I don’t think about that anymore.”

  “I know. The war was a long time ago. But it’s back! I’m here! What’s your answer?”

  “A choice was made.”

  “For you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you went along.”

  “That’s right.

  “Which means the poor bastard who took your place got blown up in the jungle while you suntanned on Miami Beach.”

  “There’s another side to that. A Vietnamese lived because I wasn’t there to shoot him.”

  Rage contorting his face turned it a bloodless ashen gray as Gary half-lifted himself out of his wheelchair.

  “You’re saying a gook’s life is the same as an American’s! They tied our wounded to trees, tortured and killed them. Johnson! Hardgrave! I was there! I carried the bodies out! A girl, no older than four, lying dead in the dirt! The whole village massacred by the V.C.! The gooks killed their own! She had a beautiful little face. Her eyes were still open…she looked like a broken doll…” Gary sank back down.

  Ginger stood silently at the door.

  “It’s OK,” Samuel said to her. “Nothing wrong. We’re just talking.”

  His face again rock hard, Gary looked up at her.

  “What are you staring at? Never see a legless cripple?”

  “I’m not looking at your legs.”

  “What a surprise!” He laughed, a searing, bilious sound.

  “You have nice eyes,” Ginger said. “They’re the color of cornflowers.”

  Gary smirked, hid his trembling hand.

  “Ginger, this is my friend Gary. We once lived in the same apartment building. He’s been away.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” she said.

  “You have big tits,” Gary told her.

  “Guess you never met a woman with large breasts before,” she answered.

  Gary’s eyes narrowed…widened as he grinned!

  “I like you girl! Want to go surfing with me! Come on, Baas! Let’s head to the beach and join all the other beautiful people!”

  “I have a couple bathing suits.”

  “I’m perfect just the way I am! Ginger looks ready to go!

  She wore short shorts and a halter top. Gary wheeled himself out, Ginger beside him.

  Samuel changed, took towels and joined them outside the building.

  “Goddamn it, Bass, are you white!” Mockingly, Gary moved his head back. “Do everyone a favor, cover that chicken skin up! Follow me!”

  The wheelchair rolled easily down the wooden ramp but Gary struggled on the dry part of the beach, the wheels sinking into the sand. When Ginger moved to help him, Samuel quickly touched her arm and shook his head. Sweating, forcing the wheelchair forward, Gary reached the slick, wet area and glided toward the sea.

  Hot and cloudless, the midday sun large in a blue sky, vacationers ran into the large waves.

  “That’s what I want to do!” Gary shouted. “Catch the big ones! Come on, Baas, push me in!”

  “Are you sure?’

  “Fuck yes!”

  Pulling the wheelchair, Samuel backed into the water, breaking the waves so they didn’t hit Gary. Ginger wadded close to them.
>
  “What are you doing, Baas? Turn me around! Straight ahead, motherfucker! Charge!”

  Samuel rotated the wheelchair. Turning from blue to agitated white as they closed in, the waves became bigger, drenching Gary, Samuel, and driving the wheelchair back. With unrestrained release, after each wave passed Gary shook his fists in the air and howled toward the sky.

  A strong swimmer, Ginger dove, surfaced, caught the next wave and body surfed to the beach.

  Moving swiftly, one wave grew into a towering mass of curling water, its size and roaring sound making the ocean in front of it seem calm and silent. Gary glanced back at Samuel. Both looked up at the monster just before it smashed into them.

  Submerged, Samuel immediately reached for Gary. The empty, careening wheelchair banged into Samuel’s head. When he surfaced he saw Gary floating face up inside a rip tide taking him out to sea. Fighting its current, Samuel swam over to him.

  “Hey Buddy, thought I’d soak up some rays.”

  “I’ll get you back.”

  “And if I don’t want to go?” But he didn’t resist when Samuel maneuvered behind him and locking his arms under Gary’s, towed him across the rip tide, then toward shore.

  Ginger ran into the water and helped pull Gary out.

  “Fucking A!” Sitting up, covered in sand, he gave her a high-five. “That’s what I call fun! Let’s do it again! Oh shit!” He saw his battered wheelchair, one of its front wheels missing, an armrest hanging. Gary crawled over and as Ginger held the chair steady, he pulled himself onto the seat.

  Before drying herself, she put a towel around him and handed one to Samuel.

  “Cozy,” Gary yanked the towel off. “OK, here’s the plan. You two drag this sucker to the water, lift my ass out and throw me in!”

  “You might drown,” Ginger said. “Let’s have a picnic instead.”

  “OK by me but counselor is a busy man.”

  “I’m taking the afternoon off,” Samuel said. “There’s a restaurant close by with takeout. The hamburgers are good.”

  “No Burger Kings around? Wasn’t that how you lived?”

  “I can drive to one, no problem. What would you like?”

  “Nothing there,” Gary said. “I’m a vegetarian. This restaurant. Do they have salads?”

  “I think so.”

  “Romaine lettuce, not that iceberg crap. Tomatoes, broccoli, carrots. Vinegar and oil. Think you can handle all that?”

  “Got it. Sounds good. I’ll get the same.”

  “I’m going to have a chili burger and waffle fries,” Ginger said. “I’ll pay for my own.”

  “The hell you will!” Gary said. “I’m treating. I have lots of money. The government keeps sending me checks! What do you do, Ginger? I know we’re in Miami but even here you aren’t dressed for the office.”

  “I’m a hooker,” she answered.

  Samuel waited for Gary to look at him, snicker, and say something sarcastic.

  “That’s cool,” Gary said. “We need some drinks.”

  “What kind of beer?” Samuel asked.

  “None. Iced tea, unsweetened, with a slice of lemon.”

  “I can pick the food up,” Ginger said. “Give you two a chance to talk.”

  “How nice, but Baas and I aren’t really into reminiscing. I’m more interested in learning about you.”

  “You are?” Ginger said.

  “Damn straight! Plus you’re a lot better looking than buddy boy here!”

  “I won’t be long,” Samuel said and left. He changed into his business suit, drove to the restaurant, ordered and waited. Gary had become a stranger, time and events creating a new person, the old Gary existing only in memory his physical presence made the mind remember. It was as if he’d died, but hadn’t passed on, the absence permanent but incomplete, Samuel wondering if this was what a father would feel when looking at his adult son and remembering the little boy who had been afraid of the dark. Were ghosts the inevitable final stage in a relationship’s decay chain, time turning friendship and love into haunting visitors from an irretrievable past?

  He carried the warm food against his chest.

  At the beach Samuel followed the deep ruts in the sand to a picnic table shaded by a palm tree. Her back to him, Ginger sat at the table. Gary saw Samuel but leaning forward in his wheelchair kept talking.

  “Here you go. Hope everyone’s still hungry.”

  “You bet!” Ginger said. “Thank you, Mr. Baas.”

  “Got my tea?” Gary asked.

  “No sugar and with lemon, just like you wanted.”

  “Probably warm as shit.”

  “I hope not…” Samuel took the cup out. “It’s cold.”

  “Let me put a straw in that,” Ginger said.

  Gary hit the broken armrest with his fist. “I’m not a goddamn baby!”

  “I know. Neither is Mr. Baas.” She looked over at Samuel. “Do you mind if I get everything ready?”

  “Go ahead, Ginger. Thanks.”

  She slid the straw through the plastic top and handed the tea to Gary. After opening one of the cartons, Ginger carefully shook the salad onto a paper plate, placed it within Gary’s reach along with a fork, napkin, and salt packet. She did the same for Samuel.

  “Isn’t this fun.” Water streaked but still caked on, the heavy makeup of her profession didn’t hide, especially in her eyes, the almost childlike joyfulness Samuel saw as Ginger anticipated the pleasure of eating a hamburger. She held the burger in front of her and took a big bite. “Yummy! How are the salads?”

  “Good,” Samuel answered.

  “It’s a salad,” Gary stabbed a carrot.

  “What should we do about the wheelchair?” Samuel asked him.

  “You? Nothing. I’ll fix it, like always. Ginger found the wheel and I’ve got tools. I’m a rolling machine shop!”

  “Gary told me about his van,” Ginger said. “It’s really cool. He has a bed, refrigerator and stove. He built a ramp so he can get in and out.”

  “Isn’t that wonderful,” Gary said.

  “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

  “You didn’t. I shouldn’t bitch. That ramp is real useful. When I roll up it and shut the door, I’m home. I can drive where I want, leave when I feel like it. I’m not a little dog crawling along the sand while some pretty lady hauls my broken wheelchair to a picnic table. I have to say this. You are a strong woman.”

  “No one ever told me that before,” Ginger said.

  “That you’re strong?”

  “That I’m pretty.”

  “So, you sleep in your van,” Samuel said.

  “It’s convenient. I don’t have to go far to piss.”

  “My bathroom is next to the bedroom. Maybe you’d like to stay with me a few days—or longer.”

  “Thanks, Baas. Nice of you, but I already took Ginger up on her offer. We should go. I’m cold.”

  Still in his wheelchair, they pulled Gary to the van. He drove away with Ginger.

  Samuel stood looking down the shadow filled road.

  13

  When Margaret called and asked to meet him, Samuel knew why. His questions about Christ and what it meant to be a Jew recent ones, Jesus and Jehovah weren’t the source of his premonition. The still, small voice of a boy had always been inside him. As she spoke, it whispered, Love is for others.

  They walked along the beach. Margaret held his hand.

  “Since coming to Miami, I’ve had time to think and pray. I had doubts
about my calling. Did I really want to become a nun? We met. Your friendship is a blessing.” She stood and faced him. “I love you.”

  Samuel felt the electricity in the air and ground.

  She had said it!

  Kate never did, except as the frivolous luv on a napkin…

  When looking into Margaret’s eyes he no longer heard the fearful little boy.

  We’ll get married!

  Samuel moved closer, lifted his head to kiss her.

  “I love my sisters too,” Margaret said, stepping back. “I miss them and the convent. God has called me. I intend to take my vows. I want to be a nun.”

  The bride of Christ, the voice said.

  Samuel nodded.

  “I value our friendship, Samuel. I don’t want to lose it.”

  “You won’t.” The words sounded distant to him. “We’ll write. Send postcards.”

  “You’ll visit me?”

  “That would be fun.”

  Margaret took his hands into hers.

  “Thank you for understanding. God bless you.” She released him, touched her hand to her heart, and walked away.

  I told you, the boy said. It’s fate.

  Samuel looked out at the ocean. The sea might give up its dead but Judgment Day wasn’t at the center of the comic book he had bought and read a few weeks ago, Jesus Christ, Son of God. The art work dark except his face, no longer showing pain, Jesus on the cross told those gathered, ‘It is finished.’

  The plan fulfilled.

  Love shown.

  The time of flesh over.

  Samuel understood. A final breath. A quick good-bye. The end of Margaret.

  He went home to his empty rooms.

  14

  “Very good!” Gleba said gleefully and clapped his thick hands. “He doesn’t remember! What could be better for me! That is why you asked if I speak German? He has me confused. Of course! He is an old man. The war was a long time ago. I am very happy!” He leaned back and grinned, his blue eyes behind his glasses as bright and merry as those of a department store Santa.