PALINDROME

by Lawrence Kelter

  “Sure,” she said, “Make a butt load. You know I don’t cook.”

  “What about your husband? He doesn’t cook either?” I grabbed a huge pot, which I had previously scrubbed to death with a Brillo pad, and began opening the foil trays. They were all the same; each contained a portion of baked chicken, mashed potatoes, and broccoli. I washed my hands and began deboning the chicken.

  “No, that sonofabitch don’t cook. He don’t do nothing worthwhile except repair transmissions and flirt with the chicca that works with him at the transmission shop.”

  I knew that Sepp didn’t sleep at home much, and I knew he was an asshole. It didn’t surprise me that he was fooling around on Carli. Again, what could I say, “He’s still paying your bills?” I had all the chicken in the pot and began dicing onions.

  Carli didn’t answer at first. She was holding Mark and staring off into space. Her voice was low and even, devoid of emotion. “I don’t know why I’m surprised. Look at me, Lexa. He’s not a good man but he’s not bad-looking. Why am I surprised that he’s unfaithful?”

  “Because he’s your goddamn husband, that’s why. He made a commitment to you. He gave you a son.” I was chopping the hell out of the onions. Chicken caccitore called for large pieces of onion, but I had reduced them to the consistency of baby food. How can people live like this? You watch those hill folk on the Jerry Springer Show, and you think, this is all scripted and made up. Then you see it with your very own eyes, and you just can’t believe it. I was screaming in my head, change, change, you can change it. I heard Ax’s voice, “be the change.” I missed the stupid onion and cut a gash in my finger. “Shit!”

  Carli jumped up. She put Mark in his crib and examined my finger. “You stupid bitch, what the hell did you do?” She wrapped my finger in paper towel. “No worries, I got all kinds of free antiseptic stuff—one minute.” Carli went into the bathroom and came out with a first-aid kit. I washed my hands and she helped me with the bacitracin ointment and a Band-Aid.

  “Why do you put up with that?”

  Carli looked at me with an expression that said, you know why. “Low self esteem, darling—what do you think? I ain’t bright or pretty or sexy. I take what I can get.” All of a sudden a smile came to her. “He’ll be home tonight. I got my welfare check today, picked it up before I went to the clinic.”

  “So what now, he takes your money too?”

  “Just the spare change. I keep enough to take care of little Mark and buy my cigarettes. I only give him enough for beer. He ain’t all that bad. Like I said, I only got myself to blame; I ain’t got no fairy Godmother. It’s just Mark and me, and you. Bless your heart, Lexa. Here, let me open up those cans of tomatoes. Go play with the baby. You can put in the seasoning when everything else is in the pot.”

  I was fighting back tears.

  Carli saw it and shook her head. “Lighten up, will you, just because this is Long Island doesn’t mean everyone lives like the Great Gatsby. This is my life and I accept it.”

  “But you’re twenty-eight years old. You can make your life better. You don’t have to live like this.”

  Carli’s eyes turned gray and cold. “I like you, Lexa, and I look forward to your visits, but don’t get all high on the hog. I grew up in an orphan home. I was beaten up by stupid boys who had me six ways from Sunday. No one at the home ever raised a finger to stop it. I’ve been through a lot worse than I’m going through now. I got a baby and a roof over my head, and a dear friend who comes over once a week to turn slop into delicious chicken caccitore . . . and I got a husband who doesn’t beat me. I did make my life better. It just doesn’t look that way to you.” Carli gave me a big kiss on the forehead. “Now relax and go play with the baby. You’ve inspired me. I actually feel like cooking.”

  ~~~

  I was sitting in the car outside Carli’s camper and thinking about her crappy life. I wanted to mold every ounce of my soft tissue into rock-hard sinewy muscle, surprise Sepp on his way home from work, and pound him to within an inch of his life. Take her money? He was coming over to steal from his wife and child. He had a beautiful son, but he wasn’t coming home to see him. He wasn’t coming home to see the mother of his child. He was coming over for beer money. My blood was running cold, and I wanted to do something terrible, and then once again, I heard Ax’s voice in my head, “Be the change.” Be the change; how? Should I pummel Sepp into a bloody pulp? How would that help Carli? And then I realized that it wouldn’t; it would only make things worse. Sepp would leave and never come back. He would abandon Carli and Mark and find a job in another town where he could work as a mechanic and mess around with loose women. Mark’s father was a piece of garbage, but I guess it was better than not having a father at all.

  I took a few deep breaths to try to calm myself. Something caught my eye. Darla must have put them in the backseat of my car when I went to the emergency room. Sitting on the seat behind me was a dozen crushed yellow roses and the card from Emilio Bolan. Somehow, with everything that had transpired, I had forgotten about the bouquet. With my plan for Sepp’s annihilation fading into the recesses of my mind, I began to wonder why a classy lawyer like Bolan would send me flowers.

  Fifteen: Pain Management

  Keith Cooper sat in his Camaro for twenty minutes fighting the urge to drive off and leave Shawn Riley high and dry. He had driven through the morning mist, beneath a depressing gray sky.

  The mist turned to heavy rain. He watched Riley’s car from the other end of the Best Buy parking lot. It was early, and the lot was predominantly empty. He was half an hour late and in no hurry to accommodate a screw-up like Riley. In his mind, Riley was someone who threw away his life and spent his days and nights stoned on heroin.

  What is that jerk waiting for? Doesn’t he see my car? Cooper’s patience had been thin ever since his bogus rape arrest. He had been more tolerant of Riley before the arrest, but now with his mind and interests focused on self-preservation . . . well, he no longer wanted to be bothered with him. He had asked Riley to follow the girl, and he had completely screwed up the assignment. Riley had made up a bullshit story. He said that she had not come out of the ladies’ room down the hall from the Legal Aid office. He was thinking the worst. He could envision Vincent’s body half-covered with his hand reaching up through the sand like in the final scene from Stephen King’s Carrie. This was a relationship he wanted no part of.

  The rain seemed as if it would never stop. “Screw it!” He pulled his hood up over his head, got out of the car, and bolted through the parking lot, splashing through rain puddles as he ran.

  He ripped open Riley’s passenger door and dove into the car. The smell of stale beer hit his nostrils before he could close the door behind him. “What the—” Riley was out cold. The driver’s seat was reclined to the fullest horizontal position. Riley was on his back with his arms hanging off either side of the seat. “Hey, asshole, wake up.” Riley began to snore. He turned on his side but showed no recognition of Cooper’s presence next to him. Cooper wiped the rain off his face. The quick dash through the parking lot had soaked him thoroughly. “Asshole, wake up!” he said in a louder voice. Riley didn’t stir. Cooper opened the passenger door and slammed it so hard the car rocked. “Shit.” What now? He could be out for hours.

  Why am I here? Cooper thought as he waited impatiently for Riley to stir. He stared through the windshield, watching as the rain bathed it and ran over the glass like thick, translucent syrup. After a few minutes, the glass began to fog. He felt in his pocket for the cellophane bags and considered whether to leave Riley’s stuff in the car and take off. “Shit.” He leaned over and smacked Riley on the cheek: once, twice, three times. Riley finally began to stir. “Snap out of it,” Cooper demanded. “Junkie asshole, wake up!”

  “What, what?” Riley said, slow to awaken. “What are you slapping me for? I’m here.” Riley licked his dry lips and swallowed to moisten his pasty mouth. “Hey, Bro, how long have you been sitting there? I was getting a
little rest.” He stretched his back. His face contorted as he attempted to move. “Oh damn, that still hurts.”

  “Hurt your back?” Cooper asked.

  “I blew it out burying Vinnie last night. I broke the shovel and had to dig with the spade. I’m dying.” Riley reached for the seat lever. “Help me, will you?”

  “What do you need help with?”

  “My back, jerkoff. I can’t sit up. I’ll pull the lever, and you let the seat up slowly, just a little at a time. I drove here with the seat almost all the way down.”

  “You’re a mess,” Cooper said as he put his hand on the top of the driver’s seat. “Okay, I’m holding it down. Let it up.”

  “Slow, got it? Don’t jerk it.”

  “No problem.”

  Riley released the seat. Cooper let it up slowly, but not slowly enough, Riley winced as his back straightened. “Christ that hurts,” he said. He grabbed a half-empty can of Miller from the cup holder and took a gulp. He belched.

  Cooper shielded his face with his hand. “Dude, your breath smells like old socks.” He reached into his pocket and handed Riley a plastic bag filled with heroin packets.

  Riley grabbed the bag. He snorted several times to clear his nose and began to count the packets. “What the hell is this? Where’s the rest?” He turned to Cooper; his expression at once reflected his dissatisfaction.

  “That’s all I have for now.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No, I’m not kidding; that’s all I have.”

  “Hey,” Riley said as he pointed a menacing finger at Cooper’s face. “I said, you’re kidding, right? You think I lugged a corpse through the rain and dug a grave for this? This is bullshit.”

  “Hey, calm down, all right. I’ll have more by the end of the week.”

  “And what am I supposed to do until then, huh?”

  “Shit, Shawn, stretch it out. I mean how much do you use?”

  “What do you care how much I use? I told you how much I needed, and that’s what I expected to get. Is this some kind of game? I’m not messing with you. I need my shit.”

  “Look, man, I said it’s coming. Deal, okay?” He reached into his other pocket. “Take this if you run short.” He handed him a prescription bottle.

  Riley took the bottle from Cooper and examined the label. “What the hell is this?”

  “Hillbilly heroin.”

  “Oxy? Get the hell out of here. What am I supposed to do with this?”

  “Look, it’s the same stuff. It’ll keep you going.”

  “Like I’m gonna shoot this crap; are you kidding? Do you know how dangerous it is?”

  “Don’t be such a drama queen, Shawn. You used to be the man, now you act like a real pussy. You’re afraid to shoot it, don’t shoot it. Lot’s of ways to skin a cat.”

  “Hey, you’re a douche, you know that. This is the stuff I got hooked on in the first place. You know you don’t get a rush unless you mainline.”

  “So don’t mainline, don’t get a rush. I’m doing you a favor. You don’t want it? Give it back. I gave it to you as an insurance policy to hold you until we get some fresh goods.” He took the bottle out of Riley’s hand. “I ain’t your damn nursemaid, Shawn. I’m just trying to help you out. We used to be friends.”

  The windows were completely opaque. “Leave it and get the hell out of here,” Riley said. “And you call me the minute you get more.”

  “No problem,” Cooper said as he opened the door. “Have a nice life.”

  “Yeah, screw you, and you tell the boss I ain’t happy.”

  “Oh yes sir. I absolutely will,” Cooper said sarcastically. “Like he gives a damn if you’re happy or not. Are you kidding, Shawn? What happened to you? Do you realize how pathetic you sound? You’re a junkie, cleaning up messes and digging graves at the beach. What do you think, that you’re the next presidential hopeful or something?” Cooper closed the door again. “You know what, I’m sorry you’re this way. I’m sorry you can’t see the forest for the trees. Get clean, man. These people will eat you up and spit you out. I’ve got no delusions about that. I know this is short term. I’m making all the dough I can and when I get enough, I’ll gas up the Camaro and take a hike, somewhere I can’t be found.” He handed Riley the bottle of oxy. “This stuff will kill you, man.” Cooper’s tone had gone from angry to sincere. “It’s only a matter of time. Vincent’s dead. Do you want to be next?”

  “It ain’t so easy to get clean. I’ve tried.”

  “Try harder, man. What can I tell you, try harder.”

  Sixteen: Someone is Here to See You

  Thomas Sparks reached into his drawer to retrieve his cell phone. It was a prepaid cell phone, the kind with no contract and required no identification to obtain. It had been purchased for cash, a throwaway phone. Before he answered the phone, he checked to make sure that his office door was completely closed. He reached over and turned on his iPhone, which was mounted on a Bose sound dock. He played some background music, a bossa nova standard entitled “Corcovado.” He loved the music of Antonio Carlos Jobim but was only playing it to ensure that he would not be overheard by anyone standing outside his door.

  “Yes?” Sparks said in an unemotional voice.

  “Just checking in, as requested,” Cooper replied.

  “Our waste management problem, has it been corrected?”

  “Yes.”

  “You oversaw the process personally?”

  It took a moment for Cooper to reply. “Uh, yeah.”

  “Keith, did you check to make sure that everything was taken care of properly?” Sparks said with skepticism in his voice.

  “I said yes, didn’t I?”

  “I don’t care what you said. I’m only interested in what you did. Need I remind you that I extended you fifty thousand dollars to keep your pathetic ass out of jail? Need I remind you of the personal debt you’ve incurred by accepting my help and the extreme consequences that will result in the event of your default? So I ask you again, did you check on this personally? Our cleaner is an addict; that’s why I have you in middle management, to make sure nothing comes back to bite us in the ass.”

  “I just left Shawn. Everything is fine. Lighten up.”

  “Okay, I’ll lighten up, but if there’s any problems as a result of this, the next time I ask someone if everything went to plan, it will be because I’m checking on the disposal of your body.”

  The phone was silent for seconds before Cooper found the courage to speak again. “Are we still having problems with supply? I’m getting calls from a lot of unhappy customers.”

  “Assure them that this is just a minor delay. Our major competitor is about to be eliminated. When that happens, we’ll have an unrestricted supply. Refer them to the good Dr. Rosen for counseling and alternative treatment if their need get’s too great.”

  “No one wants to shoot oxy, you know that; it’s too dangerous. Scraping the coating off the pills is a bitch, and it’s hard to crush. If a big particle gets accidentally injected, it can cause a big problem.”

  “Since when are you such a bleeding heart? You had no problem dropping GHB in an unsuspecting girl’s drink, but you’re worried about the wellbeing of street junkies? Have you ever heard the expression, beggars can’t be choosers?”

  “It’s not good for our reputation on the street; it’s worse if our clients die.”

  “You are correct, and to that end, we have taken precautions. Dr. Rosen’s clinic has been supplied with pure generic oxycodone from a Canadian supplier. It’s one-hundred-percent pure and soft-milled so that it dissolves easily. It contains no fillers and can be injected as is. As I said, we’ll have an unrestricted supply of heroin as soon as our competitor is eliminated. Until then, Dr. Rosen will show our clientele every possible courtesy. I trust you will not have any trouble making yourself understood.”

  “No,” Cooper replied timidly, “no problem.”

  “Excellent, I’m so glad we see eye to eye.” Sp
arks ended the call on that note. He replaced the cell phone in his desk drawer. He waited a few seconds before turning off the music, savoring the last few bars of Jobim’s exquisite composition. He stood and went to the door because he was compulsive and neurotic. He opened the door and looked around to make sure no one had been loitering about. The corridor outside his office was quiet, but at the farthest end, he saw a young woman enter the reception area. They had never met in person, and his angle was poor but he knew who it was from her general appearance and the way she moved—he had seen her on a video recording. They only made eye contact for a split second before he disappeared into his office and closed the door.

  ~~~

  Emilio Bolan heard a knock on his door, which he knew to be the light rapping of his secretary. “Come on in,” he said. The door opened immediately. His secretary was an extraordinary combination of beauty and poise. She was dressed to meet her boss’s expectations in a tightly fitted black dress that was cut well above the knee. Her name was Delfina, but Bolan rarely addressed her by her proper name. “You have an unscheduled appointment, Emilio.”

  Bolan was focused on his computer screen. He scribbled a note on a legal pad and then redirected his gaze toward her. “I’m pretty busy, Del. I really don’t have the time.”

  Delfina paused momentarily while she considered Bolan’s instructions. “It’s the young woman you arranged flowers for the other day by way of her attorney, Mr. Gelfman. I thought under the circumstances you might—”

  Bolan smiled. “You’re holding out on me, Del. I’ll need a few minutes to freshen up.” Bolan stood and walked toward his private bathroom. He stopped just before he entered the bathroom and turned toward Delfina. “You’d better stop being so coy. You knew I’d want to see her.”