by Luke Loaghan
At the end of the evening, I could barely feel my hands. They were frozen and swollen from scooping ice cream. At two in the morning, I cleaned up, but could not get the smell of ice cream out of my nose. I decided to take the safest way home – Gold Street, which was a two way street with bright lights.
There was hardly anyone on the streets. The Brooklyn Bridge was a monumental sight in the far corner. Closer to me was the Manhattan Bridge. The lights caused it to glow, giving a resplendent view of the hundred-year-old bridge. I headed toward Gold Street, but was told to not cross by the police, who had closed it off for a parade in the morning. I went toward Water Street by way of John Street, but ran into the same road block. I had no choice but to go the way I came, up the narrow and winding corridors of Fulton and Ann Streets. This was a corridor of crime.
I walked up the cobblestone streets. It was very dark and the moon lit the way home. There were no street lights. No sign of Eddie Lo. A homeless man was in an alley. I kept walking. There were a few hoodlums at the end of the block. I was headed their way. Avoiding trouble, I crossed the street and noticed that the thugs were not looking my way. They were more focused on a tall shadowy figure in the middle of the street. I could hardly see. I held my hand out in front of me, and barely saw my fingers. The tall shadowy figure was getting closer.
I walked toward him, and could tell that he had high spiked hair, and a long black trench coat. My pace was slowing down.
As I drew closer, I started to think that this might be Eddie Lo. I walked off to the side of the street in case it wasn’t him. Some commotion was coming from behind me. Four guys were about a hundred feet behind me. In a nearby side street, a small group of men sat in a parked black car smoking cigarettes. I kept walking, drawing ever closer to the tall shadowy figure.
My heart was pounding out of my chest, and I was sweating. My stomach had a sick feeling in it, and I felt like vomiting. If this wasn’t Eddie Lo, there was a good chance I might be in the crossfire of Chinese Gang War.
The gangsters behind me started shouting in Cantonese. The three guys in front of me responded by shouting back. I looked over and the men in the car were heading over slowly. The shouting escalated. The hoodlums I had seen earlier were no longer there.
As I walked closer, a street lamp flickered, and I could see bright red and green Dragon tattoos on their arms. The other group was just a few yards from them. The men from the car were inching closer, but silently. The shouting continued. I kept walking, barely able to see in the dark. None of these gangsters was Eddie Lo. Instinctively, I dropped to the ground and tried to hide behind a parked car.
“Where is Eddie Lo?” one of the gangsters asked. There was no answer. “Where is EDDIE LO!” the man demanded. There was no answer. A shot was fired. The tall shadowy figure first slouched over, then dropped to the ground. Everyone dispersed.
. I remained crouched down. The shadowy figure appeared to be dead. Police cars quickly arrived, sirens screaming, light flashing. Several police officers sprang out of two patrol cars, and asked what I saw. I told them that there was a shot fired, nd that a black car had just driven away. Ganz arrived seconds later.
Ganz was drinking a cup of coffee and eating a sandwich. “So, is that your friend Eddie Lo on the ground?” he asked.
“It’s not him.”
Ganz finished his coffee and sandwich. “Then who’s the stiff?” he asked. I did not reply. I told him everything I saw, the car, the gangsters, and everything that I had heard. An ambulance came and hauled off the body.
“It’s a shame about these kids,” said Ganz.
Ganz said he would call me if he needed any information. The streets were closed off, and by way of the headlights from the police cars, I could see blood on the streets.
I walked to the nearest subway station sickened from witnessing an execution. The corridor of crime was silent. All was dark once again.
A tall figure emerged from a side alley. Despite the lack of lighting, instantly I recognized Eddie Lo’s silhouette.
“Hey,” Eddie said. “I was hoping to find you here tonight. So what are my options?”
“There is a detective, the same guy from the Brooklyn precinct lineup. He wants you to go into police protection.”
Eddie took a long sigh. “I don’t know any way out of this. The Dragons burned my family’s store down, and beat up my mother. If I step out into the streets and someone sees me, I’m dead. If I remain in hiding, they will continue to harass my family. It’s a Gordian knot. In order to retaliate, I have to come out from hiding.” Eddie glanced over his shoulders. “I’m at the end of my rope. I keep thinking that death is the only solution. I can’t walk in daylight; I fear someone may see me. I can’t go anywhere, and the longer I stay hidden the worse it gets for my family. There’s no way out of this mess. I don’t know what to do.”
“Eddie, wait here. The detective is only a few blocks away. I’ll go get him.” He nodded. Eddie vanished into the dark alley. I ran back to the scene of the shooting. Ganz was still there. He was talking to another cop, but still managed to see me motioning for him to come over.
“What is it?” asked Ganz.
I told him that Eddie Lo was nearby. Immediately, we jumped into an unmarked police car, and drove to where I had seen Eddie Lo. Ganz pulled into the alley with his high beams on. There was no sign of Eddie. I came out of the car, as did Ganz with his gun drawn.
Ganz left the head lights on, and brought a flash light with him. The alley was empty.
“I guess Eddie didn’t hang around,” I said.
“On the contrary,” replied Ganz, aiming the flashlight above us.
Eddie was on the second floor fire escape, hanging from a red rope. His body dangled in the cool morning breeze. Ganz walked back to his car, and made a call. An ambulance and several police cars arrived. I watched as they cut down Eddie’s dangling body from the noose.
Eddie Lo had committed suicide. All the pressure had built up inside him. It was too much to handle. This was his solution to his Gordian Knot. I recognized the red rope from the ski trip. He carried it in case he needed a way out.
The sun was rising when I arrived home exhausted. I pictured Eddie playing basketball for Stanton, and how he had incredible game. He was fast, agile, and could shoot from the perimeter. Eddie not only had a short temper, but also a short life.
I fell asleep at eight in the morning. It was Memorial Day, a holiday, and there was no school. I slept like the dead and finally awoke at three p. m. I had a message from John, that he, Carlos and Sam were headed to Rockaway Beach.
I called Delancey, but she did not answer. My brother and I hung around the house. I was mentally exhausted and emotionally spent. I picked up a newspaper. The Daily News had a small article about a gang war in lower Manhattan. They identified Eddie’s real name as Yan, and said that he was one of the victims.
I told Harry everything that had happened that night. Harry was shocked. I tried to call Christine, but could not get her on the phone.
News had spread throughout the school of Eddie Lo’s death. Students mourned in the hallways, and the cafeteria. The basketball team was called into a special meeting. The other students in Chinese gangs went about business as usual. Ironically, it was the non-gangster students that were most affected by the news of his death.
Yearbooks were distributed that day. The senior class had taken yearbook portraits at the end of Junior year. This was due to the large number of student deaths senior year. I flipped through the book, and found Eddie Lo’s portrait. The coolest guy I knew in school was now dead. Eddie Lo could not sign my yearbook, or anyone else’s yearbook. The photo was surreal, but another image was brandished across my mind. It was Eddie dangling from his own rope.
Flipping through the year book, I came across a picture of Carlos and me at the pool hall. It was the picture that Delancey had taken months ago. Sam was furious that he was omitted from the picture and slammed my yearbook onto the floor. I
pushed Sam away, and he retreated.
Delancey was melancholic about Eddie passing.
“I had seen him play basketball many times. We were not good friends, but I feel a real sense of loss. He had a bright future. He is the eighth student death of the year. There’s always nine.”
I was not previously aware of the count.
“Eight?” I asked.
“Some kids were killed in a drinking and driving accident over Memorial Day weekend. It was Vivian and Grace. They were six and seven. They were at a party at a night club in the city.” I did not know them personally.
There was a rumor that Sal was in a mental hospital. “We should go see him,” John said.
By the end of the day, I kept think about how short life was, and how time was running out. Against all self doubt, I summoned enough will, enough courage, and tracked down Delancey.
“Delancey – we should go to the prom together,” I said nervously.
“If you are asking me to the prom, you’re too late. Sam told me that you managed to get Svetlana pregnant, and that’s why you hadn’t asked me to the prom yet. I’m going with someone else.”
“I did not get Svetlana pregnant. She and I never had sex and we never came close. We aren’t even friends anymore. Why would you believe Sam?” I pleaded to no avail.
“I know that you and Svetlana were close, hanging out all the time. I saw the two of you kissing twice. Everyone in school thinks that you got her pregnant. You were the only guy she was ever seen with. But you’re too late. I’m going with someone else.” Delancey stormed off in a huff.
I chased after her, grabbed her by the hand, and pulled her closer to me. I was aware that others were looking on, and I kept my voice down. “Sam lied to you, and you should have checked with me. He’s obsessed with you, and he just didn’t want to see me take you to the prom. Mr. Zoose is the father of Svetlana’s baby.” Tears welled up in her eyes. She was speechless.
“Is that why he was fired?”
I nodded.
“Why would you be friends with someone like that?” she said.
“Who? Sam or Svetlana?”
“Either. Both.”
“I really don’t know.” I was angry with Sam and wanted to find him and strike him down with my fists. I really did not know why I was friends with him.
“You’re too late; I’ve already said yes to go to the prom with Juan Perez. And I promised him that I wouldn’t change my mind.”
I was really bent out of shape. Not only did Sam, my so-called friend, betray me, but now Delancey was going to the prom with Juan. I went hunting for Sam.
I searched the cafeteria, and checked his usual hangout spots. Sam had set his trap; Delancey had fallen for it, and now he was nowhere to be found.
The rest of the week was miserable. Eddie Lo had a lot of friends at Stanton, and a lot of enemies as well. Different people had different ways of dealing with their emotions, and at times it included fist fights and throwing chairs. The basketball team was highly emotional over his death, and several members of the team were asked to leave the school as a result of fist fights. It was not clear why the fights started, but there were nearly a dozen of them. Chinese gangsters were no longer on the perimeter of the school. Their quest was over.
Delancey and I walked to the subway. She apologized for believing Sam.
“It’s my own fault; I should’ve asked you to the prom earlier,” I said.
“Why didn’t you?” she asked.
I hesitated to tell her the truth, but she was standing on the subway platform waiting for an answer.
“I can’t afford a limo or a fancy after party or nothing. I come from a poor family, and you are from a wealthy background. You never wanted to be my girlfriend and I thought it was for that reason. I can’t provide the prom experience that Juan can or that you deserve. I’ve always felt that you are out of my league,” I said.
“I don’t want to be anyone’s girlfriend, not just yours. I’m not that kind of person. I have so much ahead of me…the last thing I need is a boyfriend in high school. I invited you to my house, we had a great time together, and we were becoming friends. I never did anything to make you feel the way you feel. I think you are just too insecure. Besides, I can get a limo and I can get us into a fancy after party,” she said.
“It’s not something that you said, it’s my mentality. I did not have the courage to ask you to the prom,” I confessed.
Tear puddles were in her eyes. She boarded her train, and I watched it leave the platform. Then we went our separate ways.
I made a really big mistake. How could the girl I was completely crazy about go to the prom with someone else? I was devastated by my error. There were just a few weeks of school left, and I ruined a great ending to high school by not asking her sooner.
I walked a few blocks to the G-Train station. The train was late, and I waited and waited. Deceptors were everywhere. I couldn’t tell for sure, because no one knew who they were, but I could feel it. The subway platform was packed, and a lot of my fellow Stanton students were there waiting.
The train finally arrived after a half hour, and we pushed and shoved our way in.
I stood in the crowded G-Train amidst the nefarious Deceptors. I looked over my shoulder frequently. Nearly a dozen of them were in the train car.
John walked over, and we both stood in the corner, backs against the wall. The graffiti-stained walls of the train trembled, and the lights flickered. John and I were expecting trouble and we were not to be disappointed.
The Deceptors demanded everyone’s wallets. They pulled out their knives and weapons, punching and pushing the other straphangers. Some of the younger kids immediately handed their money over.
Old ladies were getting pushed around, and once they handed over their money they were kicked and slapped. The Deceptors neared John and me.
“John, I’m tired of this, and I’m carrying too much money to hand over.” I had been paid in cash for working at the Seaport over the weekend.
“I’m with you all the way; let’s just get one of these jerks,” said John. This was not what I’d expected from John. He was usually more docile and laid back.
One of the Deceptors with a red bandana covering his face, approached with a knife pointed toward me.
“Gimme your money!” he demanded through the red bandana.
“No!” I shouted.
Red Bandana lunged toward me. I swung a closed fist it landed on his left cheek. John kicked him from the back, only to be punched by another thug. John quickly punched each thug in the face. Red bandana thug fell to the ground. The train went dark for a few seconds. The lights came back on and John was on the floor wrestling two Deceptors. I kicked one in the ribs, and the thug turned his attention toward me.
The train stopped, and the doors opened. The Deceptors ran out. I helped John to his feet. John had a bloody lip, but seemed to be okay.
John pointed to blood stains on the floor. “One of them must have gotten hurt,” he said. “Are you okay?”
“Just a little stinging in my arm,” I responded. John pointed toward the blood on the floor.
“Is that your blood?” John asked.
The trail of blood seemed to be coming from me. I lifted my sleeve, and I was bleeding from the forearm.
“It’s not that bad,” I said. I honestly felt that it wasn’t that bad at all, considering I wasn’t in much pain. But a few minutes later, my arm was throbbing, and the bleeding wouldn’t stop. John removed his gym tee-shirt from his bag, and wrapped it around my arm.
“You gotta get to a hospital fast,” he said.
“Not here in Bed Stuy. I’ll get killed on the way to the hospital,” I said. Bedford Stuyvesant was not the safest neighborhood in Brooklyn to say the least.
“You’re crazy! You can’t wait until we get to Queens. Let’s go now!” John said, as he pulled me off the train.
John and I exited the subway, and walked up to the street level. My
arm was bleeding worse than before. John asked a pedestrian where the nearest hospital was, and the person replied that Wycoff Hospital in Bushwick was the closet. I was not happy to hear this, since Bushwick was too far to walk.
This is the most dangerous neighborhood in Brooklyn. People got shot here all the time. And there was no nearby hospital. We waited for the bus in front of a sign that read “Marcy Projects.”
There was plenty of activity nearby. I looked up and saw someone on the roof. Cars were pulling up to the curb. A teenager in a green track suit approached the cars, and took money from the driver. Mr. Green track suit whistled loudly twice, and looked up. On the roof top, someone threw down a soda can, and it was given to the driver. We made eye contact with the roof top drug dealer. It was Mino Torres, Stanton’s star running back.
John and I were shocked as the bus pulled up in front of us. We rode the bus to the hospital.
“Can you believe that was Mino up there?” John said. “I heard he was accepted to a great college.”
“He’s has to pay for college somehow,” I said. “Mino didn’t get a scholarship. He said where there’s a will, there’s a way.”
At the hospital emergency room I gave the nurse a fake name. John looked at me puzzled. They sewed my arm and wrapped a bandage around me. The nurse said she’d be right back with some paperwork. I ran out, grabbing John by the arm. We ran non-stop to the subway.
“I don’t understand…why did you run out? Why did you give them a fake name?” John asked me.
“My father does not have medical insurance and I can’t stick him with this bill.”
My grandmother was home when I arrived and asked what had happened. I told her that I fell on a broken glass. My father had been robbed last month and my grandmother didn’t need more to worry about. This was New York, and this was normal. I really needed to leave New York City and never look back.
That night I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about Delancey going to the prom with Juan. I was full of regret for not asking her earlier. Juan had talked me out of it with his comments. How could I let Delancey go to the prom with another boy? But what was I supposed to do anyway? She said it was too late.