Paint It Yellow

by López, Andrés G.

  A loud car horn wrenched Gabriel from his daydream. He had stopped his cab in the middle of the street, in front of the rectory and wondered if Sister Beatrice now looked down at him from heaven. He pulled to the curb and the driver behind passed him and uttered a volley of curses. A year earlier, Gabriel had run into an old buddy from St. Pat’s who’d told him of Sister Beatrice’s death. Gabriel crossed himself and said a prayer for her. She was yet another person from childhood he’d loved but not said goodbye to.

  Gabriel cut the engine. The cold, drizzly day was perfect for rumination. He wanted to commune with the spirit world, to venture into the past. He closed his eyes and dug for buried memories. The last thing on Gabriel’s mind as he slipped into a daydream was that he had to have the cab back to the Ann Corporation by 5:45 p.m.

  CHAPTER 3

  Gabriel drifted back to Long Island City High School on a sunny afternoon in the summer of 1973. His softball team had an important practice that day to determine who would start against their arch rivals, Air and Sea. Gabriel had gotten to the park early and stood deep in the shortstop’s position, tossing a ball with Maurice Lima at third base. The rest of their teammates filed into the park with the usual cursing clamor of thirteen- and fourteen-year-old city boys. Captain Matt was the last to walk through the gate carrying his two favorite bats, and right beside him, Mandy held a small cooler. Several of her girlfriends came in behind her with folding aluminum chairs.

  As Matt flexed his muscles and stretched with the bat over his head, Mandy planted a kiss on his cheek. Matt turned and kissed her lips lightly, then meandered to the plate while Mandy went to sit with her friends. Gabriel wondered what it would feel like to be standing in Matt’s spot. And though he saw how great the two of them looked together, Gabriel still harbored a secret passion for Mandy. Seeing her gave him butterflies, brought him back to the days when he’d begun his secret crush in Sister Martha’s seventh-grade class the previous year, long before she’d started seeing Matt. Those days seemed endless to Gabriel and in later years, he missed them. The schoolyard was full of wild imaginings and warm affection — a magic lost when he graduated from St. Pat’s.

  Gabriel recalled other more somber but beautiful moments that took place during holy week. When he entered St. Patrick’s church on sacred days he felt profound happiness. He loved the serenity of the church, the lulling voice of Father Malloy professing Gospel truths, and the colored light that filtered through the stained glass windows; in it, Mandy looked like an angel. With her hands clasped in prayer, she was unstained, like the Virgin. Young Gabriel had imagined walking up the aisle of St. Pat’s with her, having Father Malloy bless their happiness. He’d seen himself embracing her, feeling her warmth, never wanting to let her go. And looking into her eyes, he’d profess his undying love and kiss her lips. While in church, Gabriel was serene, devoted — except when Mandy glanced over and stole his attention from God. His serious façade had earned him his teachers’ respect. If only they could have looked into his heart while he seemed lost in prayer and seen what a silly romantic he really was.

  The St. Patrick’s school bell rang with a soul-jarring clamor and Gabriel snapped out of his daydream. Within minutes, students would be dismissed. It was still raining; parents were lined up behind Gabriel’s cab and others approached and double-parked. As Gabriel waited to see students file out of school as they had in the old days, he was startled by a heavy tap on his window.

  He rolled it down and saw Sister Martin’s inquisitive face. She didn’t recognize him and wanted to know if he were there to pick up a child or teacher. Gabriel explained that he’d just stopped by to reminisce about the experiences he’d had at St. Pat’s. Sister Martin asked him to move his car. She was not interested in nostalgia but in managing the traffic in front of the school. Gabriel didn’t argue. He crossed the avenue and parked on the far corner by the schoolyard, then got out and walked back to where Sister Martin stood directing traffic.

  Gabriel waited until she was done. He wanted to say hello, to see if she remembered him — this ghost from the past. As she climbed the steps and reached the convent door, Gabriel called after her. He stood about five feet from her, by the convent’s wrought iron gate. Sister Martin, dressed in a dark-blue raincoat with a hood that covered her black-and-white attire, couldn’t seem to place him. The heavy rain had abated and a light, almost invisible drizzle fell. An occasional ray from the obscured sun snuck through the overcast sky and like a spotlight, revealed the excitement in Gabriel’s eyes.

  “I’m Gabriel Brosa. I was in Sister Beatrice’s eighth grade. You presented me with the general excellence medal at graduation, back in 1973.”

  Sister stared a bit longer. She walked back down the steps and came closer, perhaps to see if Gabriel were real, and upon recognizing him, smiled widely.

  “Mr. Gabriel Brosa! Yes. I do remember. My, you’ve changed so much, grown so tall. And that moustache! How have you been?”

  She opened the gate and embraced him. “Was that you in the cab before?”

  “Yes, Sister. Sorry I was in your way.”

  “And just what are you doing driving a taxi? Didn’t we give you that excellence medal for a reason? Sent you to one of the best Catholic high schools in the city.”

  Gabriel thought of everyone he’d let down, but most of all, he thought of Sister Beatrice — she’d recommended him for that medal.

  “I’m sorry, Sister Martin … for letting so many people down, especially Sister Beatrice. I heard she died. I wish I’d stayed in touch with her. Wish I could have said goodbye. How did it happen?”

  Sister Martin’s expression altered and Gabriel could tell she didn’t want to talk about it. “She had a heart attack. She suffered from asthma, so she and others mistook her shortness of breath that day for the onset of an asthma attack, not a heart condition.”

  Perhaps it was because she was talking to one of Sister Beatrice’s favorite students, or maybe it was just the expression on his face that made Sister Martin continue.

  “She’s with God now, Gabriel. And, I’m sure, happy. She was a pious woman, a great friend and teacher, and we all miss her. But God wanted her by His side. We shouldn’t ask why. It was His will.”

  As Sister Martin spoke, Gabriel’s eyes teared up and he recalled Sister Beatrice standing over his desk inquiring about his reading. She’d had such great success with Gabriel because of her kind disposition and gentle encouragement. On those long afternoons, when his mind was lost in a romantic reverie about Mandy, Sister Beatrice was the only one who kept him grounded.

  Looking at the lines around Sister Martin’s piercing black eyes and thin lips, it seemed to Gabriel that old age had seized her. How much different she looked now than she had during the graduation ceremony when she’d hugged his mother, and told her she had a wonderful boy she could be proud of.

  Gabriel wanted to explain why he wasn’t working as a teacher or still at school pursuing a master’s degree and why he was riding around in a cab and not doing something more meaningful. But he couldn’t.

  “I saw Matthew Jones’s dad earlier and he told me that Mandy had disappeared. I didn’t say goodbye to her either.”

  “Mandy’s disappearance shocked us all. It seems impossible.” Sister Martin sighed. “The only thing that has helped soothe me is my faith. Not a day goes by that we don’t pray for her and her family.” She paused.

  “We can’t see God’s design; we only get glimpses of his divine mercy. But faith has little to do with reason and reason is something we are blessed with as humans — a faculty we cannot divorce from our minds but one that makes us crave answers to complex, sometimes inexplicable situations. And when we don’t get those answers quickly or at all, we feel empty and lost.”

  “Still,” she said, “I thank God for giving me both faculties. Each allows me to marvel at and accept the beauty and ugliness in this world. Look to God, Gabriel. Pray to Him. Believe. Through prayer, you can say goodbye to Sister Bea
trice in heaven and to Mandy wherever she may be. Your faith will help you.”

  Sister Martin embraced him, and it had been so long since he had given into his emotions that all at once the dam gave way to a torrent of tears. Earlier that morning, while talking to Mr. Jones, he had managed to hold back most of his tears, but in this holy setting, with the sacred memory of Sister Beatrice on his mind and in the arms of this kind woman, Gabriel let them go.

  And more than anything, his mind was filled with guilt — his faith had eroded. Many of the books he’d read at college, especially Nietzsche’s Beyond Good and Evil and Paine’s The Age of Reason, had raised doubts in him about God’s existence. Nowadays he didn’t know what to believe. Though he prayed, it was not with the fervent devotion he’d once had; he went through the motions and wanted desperately to turn back time to the days when he was sure, yet he could not expunge from his mind the books, learning and experiences that had changed him. And he could never admit that to Sister Martin or anyone. He would battle these doubts alone. Yet it seemed to him that every day his doubts increased and God faded further from his heart.

  Gabriel managed to stop crying, realizing how foolish he must appear to Sister Martin. He backed away from her and dried his eyes on his sleeves.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t come here to burden you. It’s just … sometimes I just wish I could turn back time. I miss those days — the places, the people. Sometimes I wish I could relive eighth grade. I would treasure every second … every piece of gum bought at the corner store and every trip to the principal’s office.”

  Sister Martin smiled with him. “Well, I’m not sure you’d miss those, though I don’t recall seeing you there often.”

  Gabriel shook his head. “No, not often.” He paused. “You know I’m proud of that.”

  Sister Martin nodded. “I know.”

  It had stopped raining. A few more of the sun’s rays broke through the clouds. Sister pulled back the hood of her raincoat, exposing her dry habit.

  “It is difficult to relinquish the past, Gabriel, especially if it is one so full of good memories. But people change, move on and sometimes it’s for the best. Do you know that Sister Martha left our convent to marry and raise a family?”

  Gabriel couldn’t picture Sister Martha as anything but a nun and science teacher. He remembered how much she loved her students and teaching.

  “When did she leave?”

  “Three months after Sister Beatrice died. On her visit home to Vermont at Christmas, she met a man who’d been her childhood sweetheart and they fell in love again. They married and now have two young children. Though she loved being a nun and teacher, being a wife and mother has brought her a greater fulfillment.”

  Gabriel smiled. If only something like that could happen to him. What he wouldn’t give to find Mandy, to love her again — his love might have saved her from whatever unhappiness she’d experienced and her love could have saved him from his present misery.

  “I’m happy I ran into you, Sister. Hearing about Sister Martha’s new life has lifted my spirits. Please send my best wishes and thanks for all she did for me. She was an excellent teacher. And though I can’t thank Sister Beatrice, I’ll never forget her … I have to go. If I don’t have the cab back to Mr. Gibbs by six, he’ll be furious.”

  Gabriel hugged Sister Martin, then headed toward his cab. Before getting in, he turned around once more and waved. She had not moved.

  “May God guide you, Gabriel, and bring you happiness,” she said too low for Gabriel to hear. “May He strengthen your spirit and steer you back to Him.” Then she made the sign of the cross in the air and walked back to the convent.

  CHAPTER 4

  Gabriel handed his trip sheet to Mr. Gibbs at 5:25 p.m. With a quick glance, Gibbs could tell it had been a rough day — a trip to Kennedy, one to the Park Lane Hotel, a few short rush-hour trips up and down Park and Madison Avenues, a trip to the Queens Mall, and that was it; the last recorded entry was at 10:25 a.m. Though he couldn’t care less what his drivers did as long as he got his lease and gas money, Gibbs wondered how Gabriel had wasted the afternoon.

  “Did you take the afternoon off and go gamble in Atlantic City? Is it that bad out there?” he asked in his usual groggy voice, made rough by years of sucking on fat cigars.

  Gabriel felt like making up some ludicrous tale to entertain fellow cabbies lining up behind him, but he resisted the temptation.

  “No sir. I just ran into some old friends. I have your money.”

  “You’d better. I just don’t know how you can work an entire day for nothing and not be upset.”

  “I guess I haven’t fallen in love with making money yet.”

  This drew some jeers from the waiting cabbies.

  “Hurry it up, will ya? Some of us have families and need to get out there.”

  “Come on, John. I’m not paying you fifty fucking bucks a day to waste my time talking shit with this kid.”

  Though he didn’t own the cab company, John Gibbs liked being the boss. Ordinarily, if it were just a couple of cabbies giving him a hard time, he would show them up by working more slowly. But with so many cabbies frustrated, all he could do was grudgingly comply.

  “All right, all right. Hold your fucking horses. All those grandmas are going to be standing on the corners for ya, whether you’re there in five or twenty minutes.”

  “Yeah, but that’s twenty minutes of my time. I don’t see you handing out no discounts.” Again, there was a chorus of “yeahs.”

  Gabriel counted out fifty dollars for the lease, ten extra dollars for gas (usually gas would run him eighteen bucks, but since the cab had sat most of the day, he’d returned it to the garage with a half tank), and a two-dollar union surcharge for a total of sixty-two dollars. He was left with eight dollars in his pocket; that morning he’d started out with five, so he’d made a grand total of three dollars.

  Gabriel was a creature of habit. Once he got into a routine, no matter how stupid, it was difficult to break it. This was one of the reasons he still drove a cab. He’d begun driving that summer to make extra money for college and had planned to return to Stony Brook University for his teaching certification that fall. But soon he realized the money he made was good — eighty to a hundred dollars a day was not shabby for a twenty-two-year-old. If he leased six days a week, he could make five to seven hundred dollars clean and pay taxes once every three months.

  Within weeks, Gabriel had hundreds of dollars stashed in the closet in his dad’s apartment, more money than he’d ever had before. And though he felt he hadn’t fallen in love with making money, one day it dawned on him how silly it’d be to return to college, especially to become certified to teach high school. He recalled how little his favorite high school teachers had made annually and how hard they’d worked. Wouldn’t it be better to drive a cab, at least for a while? And not be locked up in a high school all day dealing with students? And Gabriel liked driving. He met people, was out in the open air, took breaks whenever he wanted and enjoyed the sights. And he wouldn’t have to pay for tuition, housing, or books — he could keep all his money.

  But there was another reason, one that Gabriel tried not to think about, though he knew it had more to do with his decision than anything else — her name was Jennifer Amman. When he’d met her, she’d eclipsed even thoughts of Mandy; he’d fallen crazy in love. But the relationship had waned and ended within eight months, leaving Gabriel devastated.

  Instead of going back to college, he’d listened to Salvatore and gotten an apartment on Springfield Boulevard in Queens. And to pay the bills, he’d continued driving. His father had urged Gabriel to stay with him, save money and go back to college, but Gabriel was tired of everything academic. Even earning good money had lost its luster. These days he spent much time immersed in the past, wondering how he could have made things different.

  How could Gabriel have explained that to Sister Martin? Everything bundled together could account for why he drove a ca
b — his parents’ divorce, his own failed relationship and inability to let it go, money, his love of routine, laziness, his melancholic outlook and the pain at having lost a peaceful childhood.

  The rush-hour train ride home that evening was exhausting. For most of the trip, Gabriel leaned against the doors of the RR train with his eyes closed. The smells of rubbing metal, electricity and sweaty passengers had their usual nauseating effect, which, combined with the screeching of steel wheels and the stopping and lurching forward at each station, sent Gabriel into a half sleep. Finally, at 82nd, he bolted through the doors and down two flights of stairs to the street. The cold evening air felt good against his face, and the smell of hot pretzels enticed him. He walked to his destination six blocks away, tearing at a pretzel. His old Dodge was stored off Northern Boulevard in a small thirty-dollars-a-month rented garage. Gabriel opened its door, got in his car and drove — for yet another hour — home.

  He arrived home depleted, even though he’d not driven many miles that day. Yet he wasn’t ready for sleep. He considered playing his guitar to relax but wasn’t in the mood. After showering and getting dressed in a pair of black Levi’s, a red polo shirt and polished brown Frye boots — he lay on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. What happened to Mandy? Had she run off to start a new life? Had she jumped off a bridge like she said she would? Had she been kidnapped or killed?