Keepers ch-2

by Gary A Braunbeck

  “Except you.”

  “Except me. I used to be a talent agent. The Double-Dubya. Whitey Weis. Midwest Talent and Entertainment. Handled Gypsy Rose Lee for about a month near the end of her career. Lot of other acts, too, but I doubt you’d know the names.”

  “Names that are on the wall under the stage at the Auditorium?”

  “That’s right. Thank you for setting my clock.”

  “What’re you going to watch?”

  “Watch? Hell, I’m not going to watch anything. You see what’s on these days? There’s a cop show, Blue Hills or Blue Street or-”

  “ Hill Street Blues?”

  “That’s the one. It might turn into something if they can ever hold the goddamn camera still, but otherwise-” He waved it away with a wince and a snort. “The blinking light was getting on my nerves. Thanks for setting the clock and listening to me prattle on. Now go. Away with you. Fair Mabel awaits. Just make sure you check the apple juice before drinking.”

  “Did I hear my name?”

  We both turned and saw Mabel standing in the hallway. She smiled at me. “Is Whitey here giving you a hard time?”

  “I was only extolling your innumerable virtues to this no-good hoodlum. What you see in the likes of him is beyond me. Why waste your feminine charms on hamburger when you’ve got all of this”-He gestured down at himself-“prime cut beef right under your nose?”

  “This is Beth’s guy,” she said.

  “ This is him?” He rolled his chair closer, narrowing his eyes as he gave me the Double-Dubya once-over. “No accounting for taste. Well,” he said, rolling his chair away, “as long as he’s good to her.”

  “He is. He treats me well, too.”

  “He’d better. Make sure you have him set your clocks. Seems to be his most valuable asset.”

  I laughed. “I’ve enjoyed our time together, as well.”

  “That makes one of us.” He winked at me. “Never mind me, son. I’m colorful. That’s what happens when you live long enough. You get colorful.”

  “Strother Martin in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.”

  “Oh, good, he can quote throwaway lines from movie dialogue. Thank God I lived long enough to witness such a wonder. You realize, don’t you, that the area in your brain you just pulled that little tidbit from used to hold your parents’ anniversary date, right? ‘Sorry, Mom and Dad, forgot today was your thirtieth but, hey, I can quote lines from William Goldman scripts! That makes up for a lifetime of my disappointing you at every turn, doesn’t it?’ For the love of all that’s true and pure, Mabel, take him away before he launches into a recitation of the Steiger and Brando ‘I-Coulda-Been-a-Contender’ scene from On the Waterfront. I might weep openly.”

  Mabel slipped her arm through mine. “Good night, Whitey.”

  “Did you hear that?”

  “What?” I said, enjoying the hell out of him.

  “That was the sound of my death getting ten seconds closer because I’m not getting the sleep I need. An old man needs his sleep and I’m not getting mine. Now, let’s see, hmmmmm -why might that be?”

  “Good night, Mr. Weis.”

  “Are you still here?”

  “I only came to say I must be going.”

  “On second thought, don’t bother checking the apple juice. It’d serve you right if she got the containers mixed up.”

  Mabel giggled and pulled me away.

  As we were walking toward the car I gave her my keys and told her why I wanted her to drive.

  “I thought you were looking under the weather.”

  “I feel like I’m under the ground. Six feet under, to be precise.”

  In the car, I laid my head back against the seat and closed my eyes.

  “Don’t mind Whitey,” she said. “He’s a good one. Sharp as hell.”

  “I noticed. What’s the deal with his legs?”

  “Diabetes. It’s pretty bad.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  Mabel nodded. “Sure is. I guess he used to be a dancer before he got into the talent agent business. He tell you all about the wall under the-”

  “-stage at the Auditorium, yes. Is that true?”

  “You know, it is. One of our supervisors has a cousin who used to work there when they showed movies. He’s seen it.”

  “Huh.”

  “That would be something to see for yourself, though.”

  I turned my head and opened my eyes. There was something in her voice that sounded wrong. “Yeah, I suppose it would… be-is something wrong?”

  She blinked, then fished a cigarette from her pocketbook. “Do you mind?”

  “Go ahead. I can’t smell anything anyway.”

  She lit up and inhaled so deeply I could almost hear the cancer cells cheering. “Had another meeting about the budget today.”

  “Bad news?”

  “No. Looks like we’ve got another investor and will be able to hire back almost everyone who was laid off.”

  “That’s great.” I sat up and rubbed my eyes, wanting to give this my full attention. Both she and Beth had been nervous about what was going to happen should there be another budget cut. “Mabel?”

  “Yeah, hon?”

  “It is good news, right?”

  She blinked, then, after a moment’s consideration, nodded her head. “Oh, you bet it is. Sure. Only they want us to sign something.”

  “Like what?”

  “I’m not sure. And that’s what’s bothering me. All we know is that it’s called a ‘confidentiality agreement’ and we can’t tell anyone about what it says.”

  “Have you seen it yet?”

  “Lord, no-the paperwork won’t come through for another week or two, but the director thought we should be warned. I asked him if he knew what it was all about and he said, ‘Hey, if they want to give us X-millions of dollars to keep this place open for the next ten years, I’ll have the cafeteria serve Billy Beer at every meal if that’s what they want.’ ”

  “A man of principles. Have to admire that.”

  “He’s doing the best he can. Truth be told, a lot more of us should have been let go this last time, but he managed to convince the board to keep us.” She looked at me and I could see there were tears in her eyes. “I haven’t let on to you and Beth about how bad it’s really been. I’ve been hanging on by a thread for a while now, financially. They could have let me go any time this past year, just walk in any day and- kapow! -no more job. Helluva thing to live with.”

  I squeezed her arm. “You never said anything.”

  “Why would I? Look at me, will you? I’m a sixty-one-year-old lesbian with no special someone in her life. I cook meals and clean bedpans and change diapers. I got a nursing degree but all that means to most doctors and administrators is that they don’t have to be the ones to wipe the asses and write the reports and make sure the charts are in order-and when you get a two-fer like me, well, that’s all the better. I can cook and mop up the mess they make after eating it.”

  “You’re a great cook.”

  She grinned. “You’re sweet for trying to change the subject, but I’m an old gal and I’m scared and pissed off so just let me gripe for a bit.”

  “Okay.”

  She flicked some ashes out the window. “I didn’t want to say anything to Beth about… about this-”

  “-about the job?”

  “No, something else.” She squeezed my hand. “I’m gonna need you to help me tell her something. I got a call from the landlord a couple days ago. Some of the neighbors, they’ve been complaining about the Its. I guess one of their kids supposedly came home with fleas or lice-which God knows they couldn’t have picked up at school or somewhere else, must be the old lezzie’s animals-so they threatened to call the health department unless the landlord does something.”

  I had a terrible feeling I knew what was coming.

  “We have to get rid of half of them,” she said, her voice cracking. “Isn’t that a pisser? Most of the poor th
ings had no home to begin with, and now we gotta get rid of them to keep ours. I’d buy the house if I could afford it, but I can’t, and there’s been no rent increase in I don’t know how long, and I’d never be able to find a house that size for what I’m paying-”

  “-calm down, Mabel-”

  “-and the landlord’s a nice guy, he really is. He could’ve just been a bastard and told me to get rid of all of them but he didn’t, he said we can keep four but four of them have to go and they have to be gone by the first of the month, so that means that sometime in the next ten days we have to choose which ones to get rid of-”

  “-we’ll take them to the Humane Society, it’ll be-”

  “-oh like hell we will. I mean”-she wiped a tear from her cheek-“I know they care for them as best they can, but after a certain amount of time they have no choice but to put them down. I can’t do that. I can’t hand them over to someone I know is going to have to kill them eventually. I have no idea how I’m going to tell Beth about this, I really don’t…”

  “You won’t have to. I will.”

  “Would you? She’ll hear it better, coming from you. She and I get along but… I’m not her mother. I wish I were, I love her like my own daughter, but she’s always acted like I think I got stuck with her or something. I don’t know…” She took a last drag from the cigarette and tossed it out the window. “Maybe something’ll come up.”

  I had no idea what “something” she was referring to, or how it was going to “come up,” or in connection with what.

  “There ought to be a place,” she said, “where they’d keep them healthy and happy for as long as they live, let them pass away naturally after a good life. Instead it’s dump the old people here, dump the animals there; you wait for one to die, kill the other if they don’t die soon enough. It isn’t right, however you look at it, however you justify it. It’s not right. There ought to be a place.”

  “I know,” I said, my eyes closing as the decongestants kicked in. “I know.”

  “There really ought to.”

  “Mabel?”

  “What is it, hon?”

  “Why did you introduce me to Whitey as ‘Beth’s guy’? You know that we’re not… well, she says that… I mean…”

  “I love my niece, Gil, you know that, but sometimes she hasn’t got the brains God gave an ice cube. You’re her guy. She’ll figure it out, eventually.”

  By the time we got back to the house what I thought was only a sinus headache brought on by a cold turned into a fever, then a 4 A.M . trip to the emergency room followed by a five-day stay in the hospital for pneumonia and dehydration. I never saw it coming.

  What I remember of that first day or so was the cloud-that’s the only thing I can call it. When I tried to open my eyes the lids would only lift halfway because there was a cloud pressing down on them. This cloud was a dull silver. It covered my entire face. I could feel it slipping through my lips and spreading down into my chest. It was hot and humid and felt like oil in my lungs.

  I was sitting on a hillside, and it was raining. God, how it was raining. The wind was so strong that the rain was falling sideways.

  I was sitting on a hillside, alone, watching as a ship of some sort sailed past in the distance. I thought perhaps I had friends on that ship, but they were leaving me behind.

  And I was so angry.

  So angry.

  The anger was so powerful it made a soft buzzing noise inside. And whenever I dared peek out from under my too-heavy lids, I saw things hiding in the silver cloud made by the rain and mist.

  Hunched things.

  Silent things.

  Things with bright red pinpoint eyes. I never saw their faces. I didn’t think they had any. But their eyes told me enough. They were watching me. They had always been watching me. And someday they would step out of the cloud so I could see them. They would flip over the sky and tear out its tongue as they choked it to death. And I would be crushed by it. They would feed me to the dead animals who would claw down from their graves. They would claw down to get out because the sky had been flipped over. The world was upside down. The dead animals would rain from the sky, howling, speaking to me in human language. They would have red pinpoint eyes, too, and tell me ancient secrets. But they could see through the cloud. It was their home. Oil and silver were their skin, and their skin was hard. My skin was soft and pink. They chewed through it. With every bite I grew older, weaker, an old man with stick-thin arms and a shiny bald head. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. The silver was too hot. The oil was too thick.

  I came out of the cloud. It was very dark in the room. A nurse stood over the bed, wiping the sweat from my face and neck and chest. She asked me if I would like some ice chips. She placed them in my mouth. They tasted like the autumn sky.

  “Your fever’s broken,” she whispered to me, then gave me a shot. I closed my eyes. The cloud did not return. I was safe.

  Safe enough.

  My third day in the hospital, Beth came to see me, wearing the same outfit she’d worn the day she’d picked me up from the hospital when I was nine. Not the same style of outfit, mind you-the same outfit. Same halter top, same jeans, same belt, same everything. Yeah, the pants were a bit shorter around the ankles and the halter was a little tight here and there and might be showing some age but, damn, she still wore it well.

  “I thought you might appreciate a little trip down memory lane.”

  “More like a face-first fall in the middle of amnesia boulevard. Why do you still have those things?”

  “Because you said I was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen that day.”

  “I was recovering from a gunshot wound. You could have been dressed like Minnie Pearl and I would have thought you were the hottest chick on Earth.”

  “‘Chick.’ Wow. Has a nostalgic ring to it. You’re such a romantic.”

  “I love you.”

  “You’d better-do you know I can’t feel the blood circulating in my waist because of these damn jeans? Who the fuck ever thought hip-huggers were sexy?”

  “Guys who get to slide them off the hips of girls who wear them.”

  “You’re one sick puppy. Speaking of puppies-” She sat on the edge of the bed and took one of my hands in hers. “Mabel told me about what happened. But it’s okay, we found a place that will take them.”

  “Have you picked out who’s going to go?”

  “Not yet. We still have a week before we have to do the deed. We decided you have a say in this, too, you know.”

  “I don’t want to have to-”

  “Each of us picks one to stay.”

  “But that leaves one-”

  “Mabel picks the fourth. In fact, she promised me that she’d have it picked by the time I get home today.”

  “The rest go the Humane Society?”

  “No. A place called… oh, what was it? Hang on.” She dug into one of her pockets and removed a piece of wadded paper. Unfolding it, she smiled a “Meand-My-Scattered-Brains” smile, then read: “ ‘Keepers.’ It’s a private organization, funded by donations and animal-loving rich people, I guess. They take your animals and care for them until a new home can be found. They don’t put them to sleep, ever, even if they never find a new home.”

  “Just take them in and let them live out their lives naturally, huh?”

  “Right.”

  “How’d you find out about them?”

  “Someone who works at the nursing home with Mabel. She didn’t find out all that much, but this is enough.” She grabbed my hand and leaned in, smiling. “Isn’t this great? I mean, don’t get me wrong-I cried like hell when Mabel told me, and I’ll cry like hell when we have to leave them, and I’ll miss them… but it doesn’t seem like it’ll be so hard to live with afterward, y’know? Because I know they’re going to be happy, they’re going to be taken care of and loved and kept safe.”

  “There ought to be a place,” I whispered.

  “Huh?”

  “N
othing. ‘Keepers,’ huh?”

  “Yeah. Something about that name seemed familiar to me. How about you?”

  I thought about it for a few seconds, then shook my head. “No. Yes. Maybe. I’m not sure.”

  Beth cocked her head. “Yeah, me too. It seems like it should ring a bell, but it doesn’t, y’know?”

  “Yeah, yeah I do.” For some reason the color blue flashed through my mind, but its meaning-if indeed it even had any-was lost on me.

  “Thanks for bringing me over to the emergency room,” I said.

  “You had a temperature of a hundred and four! We thought about turning off the stove and just using your forehead to heat the stew, but Mabel likes having you around. You scared us, you idiot! Did you know they put you on ice after you got here? I mean, they actually stripped off your clothes and put you in a tub full of ice to bring down your temperature. You were in brain-damage territory.”

  “That could explain a lot.”

  “I said were. You’re safe now, so you can’t use it as an excuse.”

  “Damn. It would’ve been a good one, too.”

  “Is that the resplendent Beth I see?” came a voice from the doorway. Low in the doorway. We looked over and down just as Marty Weis wheeled himself into the room. “A-ha! I’ve caught you in the act. Trying to thaw out Frosty the Snowman, I take it?”

  “‘Frosty’?” I said.

  “Word of your icy exploits have traveled all the way across the parking lot to our side of the tracks, Captain Spalding. I heard you awoke screaming for Larry, Moe, and Curly to stop dancing on your pants, as you were still wearing them at the time.”

  “How did you get out?” said Beth between laughs.

  “Yadda-yadda, Warden, as the late-great Lenny Bruce once said. Shhh -your aunt had a hand in my escape. Yadda-yadda. And if either of you tell me you don’t know who Lenny Bruce was, I’ll-”

  “-weep openly?” I asked.

  “‘Scowl meaningfully,’ was the phrase I’d meant to employ but-oh, all right, I was going to say ‘weep openly.’ ”

  “‘A pro never forgets his good lines.’ ”

  “ Magic -you’re quoting William Goldman again.”