Broken, Bruised, and Brave

by L. A. Zoe

  I wasn’t the liar, Helena was.

  Blood rushed to my head, drowning my good sense, taking everything from my sight but the face of the former friend who betrayed me. I forgot my job and my apartment. I forgot all the other customers and what they would think. I forgot my boss Arkady who could fire me at will.

  Everything except the overwhelming urge to fight back, to hurt. To smash.

  A reptile but not caged like Greco’s pets. Free to strike.

  Drowning in a sea of molten lava, of endless afternoons and evenings spent with Helena. Listening to her play her violin. Reading poetry. Watching movies. Eating chocolate candy bars. Complaining about teachers. Discussing boys—and the cute young men teachers. Dissing girls who gave blowjobs to their boyfriends. Speculating as to which of our friends and teachers went all the way, and who was gay.

  Mostly in my room in the old apartment, because her family didn’t like me, and, as she said so accurately, my mother didn’t care what we did together.

  Adrift in an ocean of icebergs, of eyes staring. People whispering as I passed. Stares and giggles.

  I picked up the heavy china plate full of Helena’s stir fry curry, lifted it over Helena’s head—and turned it upside down.

  The gooey vegetables and fluffy brown rice dropped off the plate and fell right into Helena’s upturned face.

  Splat!

  Chapter Sixteen

  At Mom’s Apartment for Dinner

  Crazy Georgie arrived at Rhinegold and SeeJai’s room late in the afternoon, even before Rhinegold and SeeJai took their showers and dressed.

  He parked his grocery shopping cart between the bed and the dresser, and took out a bag of clean clothes to change into.

  Abashed, he stared at the floor, but asked SeeJai, “You mind if I use your shower? I, I haven’t had a good cleanup since we moved your Mom in, and I don’t want her to … ah … see or smell me … like this.”

  “Of course,” SeeJai said.

  He brushed his fingers through his gray hair and rubbed his chin. “And, if you don’t mind—Rhinegold, can I borrow your razor?”

  “Yeah, sure,” Rhinegold said. “It’s in the medicine cabinet beside the shaving cream.”

  “So, do you think something’s up?” Rhinegold asked when Georgie shut the bathroom door.

  “When Mom asked me what night I had off, she told me to make sure Georgie got the word in time. Repeated it over and over. I wouldn’t dare show up without him.”

  “Maybe you and me shouldn’t even bother going along,” Rhinegold said with a laugh.

  “I already have the mandarin orange and sliced almond salad made,” SeeJai said.

  “And I didn’t even know you could cook.”

  “The chef at work gave me the recipe and explained what to do.”

  “Before or after last night? You still don’t want to tell me?”

  While waiting for SeeJai to finish work the evening before, Rhinegold noticed Helena enter with Keara.

  Again, he said nothing, and thought in the dark they didn’t notice him. Though Helena had seen him with that winter parka and ski mask on.

  Watching the two women enter arm in arm felt like taking a sword in the gut. The sharp pain, the agony of experiencing such a deep violation of his body. The remorse of wishing he blocked that blow.

  They looked so much alike.

  Although several years old, the wound refused to heal. His guts twisted, writhing around the hot steel piercing his vital organs, scraping themselves on the blade, in the effort to escape and deal with the wound, inflicting yet more cruel damage.

  Helena must be pursuing Rhinegold by making buddy-buddy with Keara, not realizing the futility. Keara could never lead her to Rhinegold. If Keara knew Helena’s plan, she’d probably laugh, and never go out socially with Helena again.

  Better for Helena to summon the angels, invoking the soft magic of her violin. To offer Rhinegold a faint echo of the Music of the Spheres.

  Not an hour later, loud noises startled Rhinegold. Outraged shouts, a scream, and some laughter.

  About ten minutes later, SeeJai stalked out of the back door, not carrying any leftover food, grabbed his elbow, and just pulled him forward while shouting, “Not here! Not now! C’mon, let’s go!”

  By the time they reached the small room she rented, SeeJai calmed down, but refused to explain what happened. She claimed she wasn’t hungry, and went right to sleep.

  Rhinegold ate a leftover chicken sub sandwich, and read The Iliad, Alexander Pope’s translation, his first attempt at it.

  SeeJai cracked her knuckles, then finally said, “I almost got fired.”

  “What?”

  “I dumped a plate of food on a customer.”

  “I’m not your mother, but you ought to be more careful.”

  “Deliberately,” SeeJai said. “An old enemy of mine, from high school. She came in, got seated at one of my tables, and I-I-I couldn’t help myself. I lost control.”

  Rhinegold hated the initial surge of green fear into his stomach. If SeeJai lost her job, he would have to pay all their food and shelter bills. That meant taking a lot more jobs from Greco. Maybe even Ami, if Greco couldn’t keep him busy. And that meant SeeJai spending more time alone, or where Greco could see and try to pressure her into working for him.

  If they didn’t pay the weekly rent, they would wind up back on the streets. For himself, Rhinegold didn’t care. He could always find another condemned house someplace. In a few months the nights would warm up.

  But not SeeJai. She didn’t enjoy the thrill or the challenge or the adventure. She longed for order, a regular routine. Comfort. Everything she used to have with her mother, but no longer did, now her mother occupied that one-person subsidized rent studio apartment.

  Hated that feeling because it smelled of depending on a woman, and he was a man, not a gigolo. Though in the modern world success in the struggle for money counted for a lot more than tournament success as a knight.

  Besides, SeeJai wanted to feel independent, not dependent on him or any other man. Not economically, anyway. If she lost this job, finding another one could prove very difficult. Without her friend Areetha vouching for her, Arkady wouldn’t have hired her.

  But after a moment, what shocked Rhinegold was the image of SeeJai dumping food on a customer’s head because they were an old enemy.

  He never realized she could hold a grudge that long.

  “What did he do to you?” Rhinegold asked.

  “It’s a woman. No man’s ever been important enough to me to hate him that much.”

  Figures. “Then what she’d do?”

  “Screamed at me, of course. Everybody did.”

  “What about your boss?”

  “Arkady apologized a million times, then talked to me in his office, then sent me home.”

  “He fired you?”

  “In public, he yelled at me. When it was just him and me, he laughed so hard he rolled on the floor, and I mean, he ROLLED.”

  Rhinegold believed it. “You’re lucky. Almost anybody but an ex-Soviet army serjeant would just fire you.”

  SeeJai didn’t smile. “I guess I am. Of course, he gave her another dinner, and comped both of them, so he’s docking my next check for the cost of all three meals.”

  “Them?”

  “She came with a friend. I didn’t dump food on her, but she got a free meal just for watching me do it to my old enemy.”

  Rhinegold started to wonder how many other pairs of women he saw enter the Sunshine Garden that evening, but Georgie interrupted him by slamming the bathroom door open.

  He stood with hands raised, seeking applause. “How do I look?”

  Clean-shaven, except for a nub of sideburns that didn’t reach his earlobes. Hair still evenly trimmed, now combed back neat and slick.

  He wore brown slacks so clean, and pressed, they must have come fresh out of the Goodwill Thrift Store. Along with a slightly limp, green-checked Van Heusen dress shirt.
<
br />   Fortunately, Georgie left the top button open. Rhinegold didn’t feel ready to see Georgie wearing a tie. It’d be like Greco attending mass, Ami dating a man, or SeeJai returning his love—wanting him for his sake, not out of gratitude or sense of obligation.

  Georgie smelled of cheap aftershave and men’s cologne—a thousand times better than his usual odor.

  SeeJai whistled. “Wow! Do you look handsome, or what? Georgie, I bet you were a hell of a lady killer in your day.”

  “Who says my day’s over, huh?”

  “Nobody,” SeeJai replied.

  “Do you really think she’ll … I mean, she’s your—I mean, oh, never mind.”

  SeeJai laughed, and grabbed his hand. “You’ll knock her over, Georgie. Just … treat her nice, all right?”

  “I still remember,” Georgie said. He included Rhinegold in his look. “I was the last generation taught to treat a woman right. I picked up a girl in high school, I just pulled into her driveway and honked, she didn’t come out. Not the nice ones. I had to come to the door, meet the folks. You kids don’t even know what I’m talking about.”

  “Well, you’ve already met us folks,” SeeJai said. “But, Georgie, I wasn’t just talking about good manners. My Mom’s been … very hurt.”

  “I know, you told me your father ran away when you were a baby.”

  “She’s just got out of the hospital for depression. I want her to feel better, but I don’t want her going right back in for a broken heart.”

  Georgie bowed his head to SeeJai, looking down at the floor. “I can’t believe she loves me,” he told her. “Not yet, anyway. I’m hoping, but —”

  “She’s hoping too,” SeeJai said. “I don’t know what happened between the two of you the day we moved her in, but I think she wants you as much as you want her.”

  Georgie shuffled, plainly embarrassed. “I hope you’re right,” he said. “And if we do … get together, I mean. I swear I won’t cheat on her or leave her or anything like that. I figure, your Mother’s my last hope for love on this Earth. I can’t ruin it.”

  SeeJai put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I know you won’t do anything wrong. And you can’t guarantee what’ll happen between you. If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out.”

  Wow, just bust Georgie’s balls. Rhinegold listened closely, but didn’t dare speak, or show any expression on his face.

  Of course Georgie wouldn’t hurt SeeJai’s Mother. He could see them start to like each other. A miracle. A wonderful miracle. People that old, that beaten up by life.

  Could Georgie even sexually perform? He wouldn’t bet any money on it. Not that old, over sixty, after a lifetime of hard living and harder drinking.

  Still, for two people to still feel warmth and attraction, late in life—good for them.

  SeeJai should just be glad her Mother found a man like Georgie, and not anticipate the worst.

  “Now I’d better take my shower, or Mother will burn up dinner before we arrive.”

  Fortunately they caught the early express bus. Its heater didn’t work, so they sat shivering until reaching the stop closest to the Englewood Garden Apartments.

  When the door opened, SeeJai’s mother shocked SeeJai.

  She wore a bright green dress that showed off what remained of her figure to its best advantage. Hair cut and styled in a look that was modern even as it suited her age and face. Makeup too thick for Rhinegold’s taste, but then, it wasn’t for him.

  And neither was her big smile. “Georgie!” she cried out, taking his hand and pulling him inside.

  “You too,” he told SeeJai and Rhinegold.

  So they were afterthoughts, huh? He didn’t mind, but wondered how SeeJai felt when her own mother treated her that way.

  SeeJai’s mother’s apartment also looked better than Rhinegold expected. Someone removed the old-lady doilies, chair coverings, and knickknacks. As clean as the day they moved her in, but now fresh and shiny. No cardboard boxes sitting on the floor spreading dirt and paper dust.

  Except for its small size, a room straight out of House Beautiful, Home & Decor, and other such magazines his stepmother Sybille subscribed to.

  “Thank you for coming,” SeeJai’s mother said, addressing all of them while staring into Georgie’s eyes.

  “Thank you for asking,” Georgie replied.

  “You helped me move in here,” she replied. “I owe you.”

  SeeJai nudged Rhinegold, so he followed her into the kitchen area.

  “Smells good,” he said, then sniffed again. “Except for the burnt smell.”

  SeeJai opened the oven. She grabbed a potholder and pulled out the casserole dish. She lifted off the lid.

  Baked beans bubbled ferociously around islands of long red hot dog weiners.

  “I hope she remembered to boil them well first,” SeeJai said. She found a long fork and knife, and cut each weiner in half.

  “Are they safe to eat?” Rhinegold said. “Or should I stick with the boar brains?”

  SeeJai stirred in another half can of baked beans, water, catsup, and brown sugar, then shoved the casserole dish back into the oven, and closed the door.

  “It’s only the bottom that’s turned black already,” SeeJai said. “So when you serve yourself, don’t scrape it off from all the way down.”

  “I like burnt baked beans. Yum yum.”

  Behind them, SeeJai’s mother and Georgie made goo-goo eyes at each other, which Rhinegold remembered reading men and women of that generation used to do.

  Feeling useless, he watched SeeJai prepare the salad.

  “I should have brought my book,” he said. “And you told me you hated to cook.”

  “I do, because I had to cook for me and mother for as long as I remember,” SeeJai said. “Or I didn’t eat. She was either drinking or sleeping or watching a movie. I keep it simple, though. Nobody’s taught me French cuisine.”

  Rhinegold settled for setting plates and silverware out around the small kitchen table. They’d be plenty cozy.

  As he ate dinner, Rhinegold grew sadder, although he didn’t understand why.

  SeeJai’s mother and Georgie ate with serious though pleased expressions on their faces. Was that what lovers looked like over thirty or forty years old?

  He couldn’t remember now how his father smiled around Sybille before their marriage. He could hardly imagine his father looked so fatuous as Georgie did.

  The burnt bottom beans didn’t ruin the flavor of the ones on top. Rhinegold even ate a hot dog.

  And SeeJai’s salad tasted delicious, though she acted shy when he told her. She didn’t like receiving compliments. She didn’t seem to believe she did anything well, except maybe her job as a waitress, because it paid her in money, not words of appreciation.

  “Everything’s so delicious,” Georgie said. “You’re a terrific cook, Melissa.”

  SeeJai’s mother simpered nearly as badly as a teenaged girl. “Thank you, George.”

  George. How long since anybody called Crazy Georgie just plain ’George?’ If they heard that, his usual street buddies would fall out laughing.

  And ’George’ knew SeeJai prepared the salad he ate a huge bowl of, but he talked as though her mother did the entire meal.

  As though it would be anything except burnt baked beans if SeeJai hadn’t arrived so early.

  And water to drink, unless he wanted another glass of weak ice tea with too much sugar and lemon flavoring added.

  Still, the two old folks charmed Rhinegold. Love flowed back and forth across the table between them, and never mind it didn’t include either he or SeeJai.

  SeeJai’s mother and Georgie determined to make the evening enjoyable and memorable for each other. To get through the usual ritual of getting to know each other, so they could go from initial attraction to comfortable love as quickly as possible.

  Rhinegold couldn’t blame them. The course of true love didn’t run smoothly in Shakespeare’s day, and when Georgie and Mrs
. Grant were young, or now.

  Look at he and SeeJai. He practically worshiped her. She treated him like a live-in bodyguard. Which, to a large degree, he was. And though some women did take bodyguards into their beds, he didn’t want SeeJai like that. Not while she saw him as just her friend.

  The love flowing between Georgie and her mother angered SeeJai. Although she tried not to show it, she tensed her facial muscles, shifted around a lot in her seat, and spoke too sharply, too loudly. As though trying to wake up the two lovebirds instead of just get their attention away from each other.

  Which irritated them, for plainly they wanted to see and hear only each other.

  Rhinegold hid his smile. What bothered SeeJai so much? Let them have their fun. Was she jealous?

  After dinner, Georgie and SeeJai’s mother wandered into the living room, and sat together on the couch, murmuring.

  So SeeJai wound up washing dishes while Rhinegold cleared the table.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, after dumping the leftover beans and frankfurters into a small dish and covering it with plastic wrap. SeeJai’s mother could eat them tomorrow for lunch, just warm it up in the microwave.

  “Nothing,” SeeJai said, revolving a plate underneath the faucet so fast water sloshed the front of her top.

  Yeah, right—nothing. Better to shut up.

  Later, the four of them watched the movie Dead Ringers on cable. SeeJai and Rhinegold sat in separate chairs while Georgie and her Mom cuddled together on the couch, nearly making out like teenagers.

  When the movie finished and SeeJai and Rhinegold put on their winter coats and left, the old couple barely noticed.

  “Thanks for coming,” SeeJai’s mother called out from the couch, then giggled.

  After boarding the bus back to SeeJai’s room, Rhinegold asked her, “Why should you be jealous? Your mother still loves you. She just met Georgie.”

  “She doesn’t love me,” SeeJai said. “Not enough to matter. But I’m afraid for her. I don’t want her back in the hospital. Or worse. She’s here all alone, so I can’t look after her all the time like I used to do.”