by Frank Lauria
Joker shook his head slowly and grinned. "Nothin’ wrong with that."
Orient put the small nub of his cigarette out on the floor. When he lifted his head, he saw that Sun Girl was staring at him, her wide eyes appraising.
"You’re a pretty man, Owen," she said.
"Now that’s somethin’ special, Doc," Joker said. "I been trying to get this girl to admire me for a whole year, you understand."
Orient smiled. The throb in his body was still there, but it was no longer uncomfortable. His body felt whole and supple and he unconsciously began the process of charging his mind. His brain tingled as the rigidity that had built up over the months eased and his consciousness started to absorb energy instead of blocking it. He agreed with Joker that Sun Girl was special.
"Well, maybe you two want to hang out in this here john all night but I got things to do," Joker said, rising stiffly to his feet. He carefully stretched the kinks out of his knees before going to the door and opening it slightly.
"Can’t see nobody," he announced. Orient got to his feet as Jolter opened the door wider. He followed him outside.
It was dark and silent in the tiny park. The air was still prickly with the chemical stench of gas. Sun Girl came to the door carrying Julian in her arms.
"Everything cool?" she whispered. "Everything’s fine," Joker answered, moving toward the grassy field. "Now let’s see if we can’t find that bag of yours, Doc."
All they found at the end of a half-hour search through the scarred, littered area were a few gray tear-gas canisters and odd articles of clothing. They went back to the building where Sun Girl was waiting for them.
"Find it?" she asked Orient. "I guess it’s gone." Orient thought of the time and effort it would take to replace the identification. "No bag in sight." Julian lifted his head from his mother’s shoulder. "Ralph the Rat took Owen’s bag," he said. "I saw him."
"Well, that makes it easy, Doc." Jolter started pushing Orient and Sun Girl toward the far gate. "You just come with me and we’ll straighten the whole thing out." Joker took Julian from Sun Girl and led the way two blocks east to Avenue C. As they walked, Sun Girl held onto Orient’s arm.
Joker took them to a renovated building in the center of a block of tenements. They went up three flights until they came to a blue door painted with a golden eagle identical to the ones embroidered on his shirt. Joker unlocked the door and switched on the lights. The room was large and simply furnished. The floor was covered with a blue rug, and one wall was completely pasted over with posters representing various sporting events including football, basketball, boxing, yachting, karate, horse racing, and bullfighting. The other walls were paneled with deep brown cork. Three mattresses covered with madras fabric and placed on the floor against the walls served as couches. A mosaic-colored Tiffany lamp hung over a heavy wooden table in one corner. A turntable and amplifier rested on a low wooden plank supported by tapestry bricks against the poster wall. Two speakers hung on the wall on either side of the plank. Orient saw that there was another eagle-blazoned door across the room.
Joker waved toward the couches. "Why don’t you people just set while I take care of this bag business." He opened the door and went inside the other room. Orient sat down on one of the couches and watched Sun Girl make a very sleepy Julian comfortable on one of the other mattresses. When she finished she came and sat next to Orient.
"I’ve never thanked you for helping Julian and me," she said. She leaned against him. "Thanks, Owen."
"What was that all about anyway?" Orient asked softy. The warmth of her body felt comforting and good next to his. "I heard it was just going to be a free concert. If I knew it was going to be trouble, I would have taken Julian somewhere else." J
Joker ambled back into the room. "Boy, that was some rumble.”
"We were just talking about that," Orient said. "Do you know how it happened?"
"Same old story, Doc. The man told the freaks in the neighborhood to stop congregating on the premises so naturally they want to know why. When the man couldn’t lay no good reason on them, I guess they figured their rights were being gorilla’d by the authorities. Unfair, y’understand."
"I get the drift," Orient said. He realized he’d have to replenish his vocabulary.
"Hell, I just went down to the park to groove on some sounds and hang out with some of my people. If anybody told me there was gonna be a scene, I’d a taken one of them tours to the Statue of Liberty or somethin’."
"Speaking of your people," Sun Girl said, "did you call Ralph the Rat?"
"Easy now, don’t go associatin’ me with that street snake." Joker glared at her. "He’s got the bag all right. It’s all set."
"Good." Sun Girl nestled her head on Orient’s shoulder.
"Well, uh, don’t let me disturb nothin’ around here," Joker said pointedly.
"We won’t," Sun Girl said sweetly.
Joker grinned. "Maybe I should have listened to my pa and been a sawbones at that." He moved to the door. "Just give me a holler when the Rat shows," he grinned again.
Sun Girl stayed huddled close to Orient for a long while. They were just falling into a genre doze when a knock at the door roused them. "Joker," she called lazily, not moving her head from Orient’s chest.
"Okay, comin’," Joker called through the door. He emerged shirtless and barefoot, wearing a pair of tan leather jeans. He had a damp towel draped around his heavy-muscled shoulders and his hair was wet and plastered close to his head. "Takin’ a bath, y’understand," he said to no one in particular and opened the door.
A thin boy with a Fu Manchu mustache and dark glasses was standing at the door. He was wearing an oversized black overcoat which was buttoned all the way up to his neck and he was holding Orient’s suitcase.
"That it?" Joker asked.
Orient nodded.
Joker reached into the pocket of his jeans and took out a small, khaki bank envelope. He handed the boy the envelope. Without a word the boy passed Joker the suitcase, turned, and left. "Gucci," Joker commented, setting the bag down in front of Orient. "Not bad."
Orient opened the bag and checked the contents. His ID was intact and even the copy of the I Ching that Sordi had thoughtfully tucked into the side pocket was still there.
"Anybody got an I Ching with him probably ain’t no nark," Joker confided, winking at Sun Girl.
Orient closed the bag and stood up. He was relieved about his bag but he still had to find a room somewhere.
"Say,"Joker said slowly, "you got a train to catch or somethin’?"
"No, but I have to find a hotel."
Joker cocked his head to one side. "You on the run?"
Orient smiled. "In a way." He picked up the bag and held out his hand. "Thanks, Joker, I appreciate your help." He looked down and saw Sun Girl frowning at him.
Joker scratched his neck, paying no attention to Orient’s outstretched hand. "Now just a damn minute here, Doc," he said slowly,"You got no place to stay, right?"
"That’s right."
"Welly well, Doc." Joker grinned, grabbed Orient’s hand and began pumping it up and down. "I can’t stand goodbyes but I sure dig hellos. You’re a right interestin’ fella and I’d sure like the chance to get into your head some. Why don’t you plan on just stayin’ here for a little bit until you get yourself settled?"
Sun Girl exhaled a deep breath of air she’d been holding in and took the suitcase out of Orient’s hand. "I thought you’d never ask him," she said.
Orient started to say something but she cut him off. "Don’t argue with that freak, Owen," she said, setting the bag down next to the wall, "he gets violent."
"Then it’s settled." Joker headed for his room. "I got some business tonight so I’ll see you in the mornin’."
Sun Girl followed him to the door. "Give me sheets and a couple of pillows," she called after him.
She came back to Orient and took his arm. "You do want to stay, don’t you?" she asked quietly, studying his face with h
er large eyes.
"I guess I’d be proud, ma’am," Orient smiled.
Sun Girl giggled and put her head against his chest. "Easy now, stranger," she said, "there isn’t room in this drugstore for two buckaroos."
Joker came out budding a wide leather belt studded with coins over his hips. He had changed into another version of the shirt he’d been wearing earlier; silver velvet embroidered in white with the familiar eagle design. He took the sheets and pillows he was carrying under his arm and threw them at Sun Girl.
She caught them in midair and went to work stripping the cover off the mattress and spreading the sheets over it.
"You’re in good hands, Doe," Joker said, running a comb through his hair, "so don’t worry about nothin’. Tomorrow we’ll have a long talk about things." He stopped combing and looked at Orient. "I got a funny feeling we got lots to talk about."
Still combing his hair, Joker went back into his room. A few minutes late he returned carrying a suede portfolio. He opened the pouch and took out a small bank envelope similar to the one had given to Ralph when he delivered Orient’s suitcase. "This one’s for you," he said, tossing the flat envelope with an expert twist of his wrist so that it sailed across the room and came to rest against Orient’s bag, next to Sun Girl’s feet.
"How was that?" he said, heading for the door.
"Show-off," Sun Girl called over her shoulder as Joker left.
Orient stood for a moment trying to gather his thoughts. Apparently his fate had guided him well. But he was still unsure. He watched Sun Girl tucking the sheets under the mattress. "You don’t have to go to the trouble of making my bed," he said finally.
Sun Girl stood up. "You mean our bed, don’t you?"
Orient looked at her. She was poised like a deer, ready to take flight at the slightest unfamiliar sound. He smiled and nodded slowly. She smiled back at him. "That’s what I thought," she said. She finished arranging the sheets, then went to the door to Joker’s room.
She paused, her hand on the knob. "I’m going to take a shower," she said softly. "Why don’t you get some rest?"
Orient sat down on the edge of the mattress and began taking off his clothes. His twill trousers were torn and his light-colored jacket was smudged with grass and dirt stains. His Battaglia loafers were scuffed and dusty.
He realized he was exhausted. The sheets felt stiff and clean against his bruised skin. He stared up at the ceiling, his head resting on his palms.
He heard the door open behind him: Sun Girl padded across the rug wrapped in a towel. She went to make sure that Julian was covered, kissing his tiny hand gently before crossing the room and clicking out the lights.
He heard the sound of her bare feet come close to the bed and a soft rustle as the towel dropped to the floor.
She slipped under the sheets and he felt her skin cold and damp against his. His hands moved over her body as a rush of recognition ignited his desire. It had been a long time since he’d held a woman. His mouth found hers and she became a wriggling, restless warmth beneath him. She whimpered as he entered her, her voice a moist whisper against his ear that rose to a small moan as they found their rhythm, until there was nothing else in the universe but her warmth and her cries and his body arching to meet hers like a bow that had suddenly found the itching purpose of its design.
CHAPTER 4
The first thing Orient saw when he opened his eyes was a small naked boy sitting on the pillow next to his head.
"Hey," Julian shouted, "he’s awake."
Orient tried to push himself upright and fell back as a sharp pain flashed through his arm. He looked at his wrist. It was slightly swollen and a long yellow, green bruise discolored his forearm. A deep ache in his left side forced him to change position.
"Does it hurt, Owen?" Julian asked.
Orient nodded and carefully sat up. "Good morning," he yawned.
"It’s almost noon." Julian got up and ran into the other room.
When he came back he was followed by Sun Girl who was holding a glass of orange juice.
"Hi." She sat down at the edge of the bed and handed Orient the glass. She smoothed his hair back from his forehead as he drank. "How do you feel?" she whispered, nuzzling his neck.
"I’ll live, I suppose," Orient grunted. He rubbed the small of his back.
Sun Girl examined his wrist. "Could be worse," she murmured. Then she noticed his hand. The palm was cracked and wrinkled, etched with a network of short deep lines like that of a very old man. "What happened here?" she asked. "Hand grenade?"
Orient shook his head. "Too many parties."
Sun Girl took the empty glass and stood up. "You travel with a fast crowd."
"Mommy, Owen has white hair in his head," Julian announced.
"Don’t make fun of senior citizens, Julian," Sun Girl giggled.
"Don’t bother to apologize, Julian," Orient said. "Just call them the way you see them." He looked at Sun Girl. "Remember the naked emperor and his invisible clothes. And speaking of clothes," he scratched his head, "where did you come by all that finery?"
Sun Girl laughed and twirled, making her long red-and-yellow flowered skirt billow and lift from the floor. She was wearing a pair of black sandals with long thongs that crisscrossed around her legs and tied above her knees. An emerald-sequined vest and a rose silk scarf wrapped turban-like around her head completed the outfit.
"Mommy’s a gypsy," Julian yelled. He ran into the next room. "Just the costume for the day," Sun Girl said. "This morning while you were snoring I was busy." She pointed behind Orient. He turned stiffly, the pain in his side still making sudden movements difficult.
There was a large, battered wooden trunk next to his suitcase. The top of the chest was open and belts, beads, blouses, dresses, scarves, sweaters, vests and hats hung on every corner and cascaded over the sides. The floor next to the trunk was lined with dozens of pairs of shoes and boots.
"All my worldly goods."
"Pretty worldly indeed," Orient said.
For a long moment they stared at each other.
Sun Girl came back to the bed and sat down next to him. She was still holding the empty glass. "If you don’t want us around, just say so, Owen," she said.
"That’s not the problem—" Orient hesitated.
"Julian," Sun Girl interrupted, "get dressed, we’re splitting." She stood up.
"Wait a second." Orient took her hand and pulled her gently back to the bed. "Just listen before you make up your mind."
"You want to tell us that whatever you have to do doesn’t include me, right?" Sun Girl’s voice was even. "I understand, Owen. Details aren’t necessary."
"Wrong. You missed the point." Orient began rubbing her neck. "It’s just that you should know that I can’t make any emotional commitment to anybody right now. I have to find myself first."
Sun Girl was silent but Orient could feel the tightness in her body under his hand. "If you stay," he went on, "it’s got to be with that understanding. Just good friends for awhile."
Sun Girl relaxed and leaned against him. "You’ve got lots to learn about Sun Girl," she said. "Do you know why I moved my stuff here this morning?"
Orient shook his head.
"Because you need me, stupid," she said gravely. "And," she lifted the sheet and regarded his naked body with detachment, "because I’m a sucker for skinny men!"
She jumped to her feet and skipped to the center of the room trailing the sheet behind her. "Now why don’t you take a nice bath?" she giggled, folding the sheet with a flourish. "Then you can get busy finding yourself. Julian and I are going out. We have things to do."
"Are we splitting, Mommy?" Julian called from the doorway. He was sitting on the floor fumbling with the laces of his sneaker.
Sun Girl went over to help him. "We’re going out," she said, tying his shoe. She lifted him to his feet and zipped the fly on his jeans. "But we’re coming back. We’re going to stay with silly Owen for awhile."
The bathroom w
as located off a short hallway that connected the living room to Joker’s bedroom. There was a small efficiency kitchen built into the wall across from the bathroom.
Orient found some soap and shampoo and took a long hot shower followed by a short burst of cold spray. He picked a large towel hanging behind the door that was only slightly damp and, after gingerly drying his still sore limbs, wrapped the towel around his waist and went into the living room.
He sat down on the edge of the mattress and rummaged through his bag for a fresh shirt. He reminded himself to buy a new shaving kit and other supplies that day. Sordi was no longer available to replenish simple necessities automatically.
As he looked through his suitcase, he noticed the brown envelope Joker had tossed next to it the night before. He picked it up and opened the flap. Inside was a small amount of what appeared to be gold-leafed herb.
Orient grinned. Joker was a thoughtful host.
He searched through the clothing he had worn the previous day until he found the silver case Sordi had given him. He opened it and extracted a single cigarette paper from the Bambu pack tucked inside. Using the gold-leafed herb, he rolled a thin, tight cigarette, then looked through his pockets for a match.
"Om Aing, Chring, Cling, Charmuda, Yei, Vijay,’he whispered, invoking the ancient Buddhist mantra for the consecration of Bhang.
He lit the cigarette and, as he smoked, studied the oval scroll design etched into the small case. The scroll was his mandala, the special meditation design given to him by his instructor Ku, that last day in Tibet. He tried to empty his mind of everything except its intricate lines. He felt the muscles in his neck relax and tentatively flexed the fingers of his injured hand while he continued to concentrate on the figure. As his consciousness intensified and condensed, the pain in his arm dimmed.
Orient put the silver case aside and stood up. He put the half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray, then he took the towel off and spread it on the floor. He sat cross-legged on the towel and began a series of preliminary physical exercises. First the Yang series, the slow, careful stretching of his muscles. He continued these until the first threshold of bodily resistance had been passed. The soreness in his side lingered after the twinges in his bruised forearm diminished, but eventually that also responded to the methodical yoga therapy. Then he entered the Ying series, the breathing patterns, creating a new rhythm that pushed his consciousness past the demands of bone and muscle until, abruptly, his mind soared clear of his animal presence.