Paint It Yellow

by López, Andrés G.

  In minutes, they were browsing the famous store, enjoying the Christmas atmosphere, the music and each other, oblivious to anything else but the elation in their hearts.

  “How old is Edward James?” Gabriel asked.

  “He just turned four in November. He’s changing so quickly. I can’t wait to get back home for Christmas.”

  “I know what I’d want if I were four again — a constant companion — a little teddy bear or elephant that I could be pals with and carry around to keep me company and out of mischief. Like this fellow right here.”

  Gabriel held up a blue-gray stuffed elephant with enormous ears trimmed in light pink. He hugged the elephant the way a young child would. “Helene, meet Gumba the elephant. I’ve just finished chatting with him and he says he can’t wait to go to Minnesota. Plus, he’s a Vikings fan — see his purple jersey? Whatta ya say? Can I buy him?”

  Helene took the stuffed animal from him. “Gabriel, this is fifty dollars! Are you out of your mind?”

  “We’re in Saks. They don’t give things away or sell junk. So he’ll last longer. Heck, Edward will still have him when he goes off to college.”

  “I can’t let you get him that. It’s way too much for something Edward James will destroy in a matter of months anyway. A five-dollar elephant would suit him just fine. And just think of how long it took you to make fifty dollars today.”

  “Two trips to Kennedy. And now I can buy a little boy a toy he’ll treasure forever. Not a shabby way to spend a fifty.” He took the elephant back from her and read its tag. “Gumba here was hand sewn in England. He’s a British elephant; quite refined, don’t you think?” Gabriel lifted Gumba’s ears up as far as they went, making the stuffed animal look ridiculous and bringing a smile to Helene’s face.

  “Well, if that’s how you want to spend your money, I’m sure Edward James will adore him. You have excellent taste, Gabriel, or should I call you, Mr. Millionaire?”

  “Great!” exclaimed Gabriel and, addressing Gumba, added, “Pal, you’re coming home with us. We’ve got a friend you’re gonna love.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Forty-five minutes later, Gabriel and Helene skated side by side at Rockefeller Center. They hadn’t been able to find an empty locker to store their presents, so they couldn’t hold hands. Gabriel tucked Gumba inside his coat but left his head visible just above the zipper. The rink was crowded, yet the atmosphere was so jovial that it didn’t matter. People huddled for warmth, enjoyed the bright lights in the decorative trees surrounding them and looked up at the seventy-five-foot Norway spruce that illuminated the area with multicolored lights. Many tourists above the rink took pictures of the skaters, and on one occasion, Gabriel looked up in time to pose and smile with Gumba. The photographer waved a thank-you to him and Gabriel bowed as if he were a movie star. “He knows it’s my birthday,” he said.

  Helene had not seen this side of Gabriel and laughed at his cockiness. “This is a glorious place.”

  “One of a kind. There are people from everywhere on the planet, all coming just to see the tree and buy a hot salty pretzel on Fifth Avenue.”

  “You know when I was little I saw pictures of this place in magazines and begged my dad to bring us here, but it was impossible for him to get vacation during the holidays. And here I am with you so many years later, finally enjoying its magic.”

  “As if it were meant to be. It’s magical for me too, even though I’ve been here many times before. But tonight will be the one I remember most, because you’re here. And it’s Gumba’s first visit too.”

  Helene kissed Gabriel’s cheek and he brought Gumba out and pointed for her to give him a peck also, which she did. “Where did you get that silly name? It doesn’t say it on his tag.”

  “It was the nickname of a childhood friend, Joe Palatino. I hope you don’t mind. Edward James can rename him.”

  “And you miss him?”

  Gabriel tucked the elephant back in his jacket. “Yes.”

  “Well, since the name was so aptly chosen, we’ll never change it. For as long as we have that elephant, he’ll remind me of this moment.”

  The two were getting hungry and cold. “I’m in the mood for some hot chocolate,” Gabriel said. “Want to head to Pellegrino’s?”

  Pellegrino’s was mobbed; there was an hour wait, and though it was just a little after seven, Helene and Gabriel were too hungry and exhausted to stand around. The atmosphere was wonderfully busy and festive; waiting customers nursed cocktails, discussed their plans for the holidays and the nightmare of shopping for children and relatives. But he could see that Helene was eager to sit and relax. He held up Gumba as his spokesperson.

  “We can go to Clarke’s over on Third. We can walk over; it’s only a few blocks away.”

  “Okay, but can you put Gumba away for the night? You didn’t say this date was going to be a threesome.”

  Gabriel turned Gumba over to her. “Sorry, pal, but it’s bedtime for ya. Don’t be sad. There, there …”

  Helene stuffed Gumba in her shopping bag and put her arm around Gabriel’s shoulders, kissing him on the cheek. “You know, I should take you back to Minnesota. Edward James would love a second playmate.”

  Gabriel looked up.

  “And so would I,” Helene added. “But my parents would object. They’re still upset about my last relationship.”

  “With the professor?”

  “They just couldn’t believe that of all the men in New York, I’d find a married one from another country.”

  “But you didn’t know.”

  “The problem is they still see me as a gullible eighteen-year-old. I mean, they insist on sending me to Manhattan to study and want me to have a great time, but no one I meet will ever be good enough.”

  “That just shows they love you.” Gabriel put his hand around Helene’s waist and brought her close to him as they walked down 55th toward Third Avenue. “I know you can’t invite me to Minnesota. And, I can’t go, though I’d love to. But I promise I’ll think about you every day and night. And one day I’ll get to meet Edward James. But first, I’ll go back to school. Imagine how horrified your folks would be if you showed up with a New York City cabby. That would make the married professor look like a catch.”

  Helene laughed. “Oh, what do they know? You’re wonderful. And I get to decide what’s good for me.”

  “You’ll think about me a little?”

  “I will.”

  “So let’s make this an evening to remember …”

  “It already is, Mr. Millionaire.”

  On the corner of 55th and Third, Gabriel and Helene embraced and kissed. The night was cold; the avenue full of traffic. And as their lips parted, they heard car horns honking with approval at their public display of affection. They turned from the street and Gabriel pointed to P.J. Clarke’s, a small redbrick nineteenth-century building that stood boldly on the far corner, with a huge skyscraper behind it. This structure from a bygone era exuded warmth, romance and resilience, much like the Flatiron downtown.

  Soon, they were seated in the smoky bar and grill, waiting for their burgers, fries and cold beers, listening to the lively music just audible above the din of conversations. The waitresses hurried to and from tables while the two bartenders barely kept up with numerous drink orders. This atmosphere, so different from Mario’s or Pellegrino’s, was precisely what Gabriel and Helene needed. Their waitress brought over their beer first, and within minutes, the cold Heinekens had worked their magic. The food came and they decided to order a pitcher of beer to accompany it. They ate and drank with few words exchanged. From their table, the heavy traffic on Third Avenue was visible; almost every third car was a taxi, with very few unoccupied. Gabriel wanted to invite Helene to a movie to finish the evening in style, but the beer’s buzz felt so good, the music’s beat was so energizing and the glazed look in her eyes so enticing that he didn’t want to move. After a second pitcher, Helene took off her shoes and asked Gabriel if he would rub
her feet under the table. Doing this, he became aroused and realized that Helene was also. She leaned forward and asked him to come back to her place.

  Once in her apartment, the two began kissing passionately on the couch and with tender hands, explored each other’s body. Few words were necessary; soon, they were ready to walk to the bedroom and throw themselves on the bed. Gabriel undid the clasp on Helene’s bra and kissed her breasts, his heart almost heaving out of his chest while tasting such beauty; it had been so long since he’d been with a woman. She unzipped his pants and pulled him closer, eager to feel that hardness inside her, to touch every inch of him. When neither could hold back any longer, Gabriel slipped on a Trojan and tenderly entered her, then began thrusting, Helene receiving his energy, not wanting him to stop. Then she pushed him back and rolled on top of him, rubbing against him, heating up into a frenzy of uncontrollable desire; she spread her hands on his chest, kissed his lips, loving him inside.

  An hour later, they dozed, each exhausted and satisfied. Gabriel knew there was no way in hell he was going to work the following morning, no way in hell he was leaving Helene’s side, no matter what, unless she kicked him out. This was the best birthday he’d ever had — a precious memory he’d guard for a lifetime. The sheer bizarre unpredictability of life left him breathless and dazed. Everything one day was chaotic, the next day perfect. How was it possible? Or did one just have to stand back far enough and look hard enough for it to make sense? Gabriel forced himself to stop thinking. It didn’t really matter if he could find an answer to all these mysteries. The important thing was that this was actually happening, that Helene was real and lying naked next to him; she wanted him and he wanted to hold her, to love her.

  Helene felt Gabriel’s breath on her neck and she turned into his arms. For the first time in years, William was not there with her, not in thought or spirit, and she didn’t feel any shame. What had made sleeping with Gabriel so right, so effortless? And though she wondered how things would be in the morning, she closed her eyes and let the future unfold however it wished.

  At four thirty in the morning, Gabriel’s eyes opened. He lay awake for two hours with thoughts churning in his head. Helene’s life revolved around Edward James. If he thought seriously about developing a relationship with her, he would have to consider what kind of father he’d make. Was he ready for fatherhood at twenty-three? One second, he thought yes and could picture himself playing with the boy, teaching him to swing a baseball bat, helping him learn to ride a bicycle, perhaps even to skate on a big pond in Minnesota. The next, he wasn’t ready for such a commitment, sensed the derision of Helene’s parents. Driving a cab for a living now seemed like slavery; why hadn’t he remained in college? Certainly that would be more respectable to Helene’s folks, but if he had chosen that path, he never would have met Helene. Even if he had made a pilgrimage to the Dakota that afternoon, and even if Helene had invited him into her group, the fact remained that it was because he was driving a cab that he had gotten the chance to get to know her; it was on that ride the previous afternoon that something magical had happened. So how could he now regret that he drove a cab for a living? If he seriously wanted a relationship with Helene, he would have to make changes in his life.

  The early morning light filtered through the sides of the bedroom blinds. Helene was still sleeping soundly, the blanket half off the bed, her naked backside visible and her plump buttocks begging for his caress. Gabriel hardened, wanted to enter her again, but he didn’t want to wake her. He cuddled beside her, pulled the blanket over them and finally fell asleep.

  At eight thirty, Helene got up, showered and made breakfast. Gabriel continued to sleep until the smell of eggs and sausage roused him.

  Helene grinned at him. “Hi sleepy. Couldn’t get out of bed this morning, huh?”

  “I almost did, but my head was pounding. It still is.”

  Helene gave him two Tylenol and they devoured the eggs, sausages, toast and coffee.

  “What are your plans for the rest of the week?” she asked.

  “Work. Thursday, Friday and Saturday are usually good. Sunday difficult to make a buck.”

  “Why don’t you stay here with me? Won’t that make it a lot easier?”

  “Yeah, but wouldn’t I be imposing? I mean … what will you be doing?”

  “Studying for my finals — accounting, business, and art and architecture.”

  “Architecture?”

  “It’s just an elective I took for fun. That’s what I came here to study — art and music — but this is the business capital of the world, so … the practical side of me came out. I have a son to raise when I return home.”

  “Ever considered staying in New York? There are lots of jobs here.”

  “To be honest, not until last night. But I don’t think I could raise Edward here. It would break his heart to be separated from his grandparents.”

  “So you’re definitely going back?”

  “I don’t know yet. I still have a semester to go and I don’t know how I’d manage working full time with Edward in daycare.”

  “The schools here are great.” As he said this, Gabriel caught himself. “Well, the private ones—”

  “Are very expensive. And the public ones are questionable at best.”

  “How ‘bout moving to Queens?”

  “Moving in with you?”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it makes no sense. The logical thing is for you to move in with me. That way you can hop out of bed and be at work in ten minutes.”

  Gabriel grinned. “Not if you’re in bed with me. I couldn’t move this morning. Your beautiful body was such a magnet.” He leaned over and kissed her.

  “So, would you like to stay in my apartment while I’m away? Then I can call you every night to ask how much money you’ve made and see how much you miss me.”

  “Sure it’d be all right?”

  “It’d be perfect.”

  “Okay. I’ll stay.”

  “Good. Now finish your breakfast and come back to bed. I’ve got something to show you.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Sal parked his Caddy on 28th Street and walked through the familiar gates of PS 112 Park at around 11 a.m. on December 19. Though it was a long shot, he’d come looking for information about Mandy. He made his way past the handball courts and toward several kids to ask if anyone there had heard anything about her, but as he got closer he recognized Nancy Camino, a girl he’d dated briefly in the summer of ‘73, crying on a bench. In ripped jeans and a dirty brown blazer, too thin for the cold, she shivered, her face buried in her hands.

  “Hey, what’s the matter?”

  Nancy glanced up; tears were streaming down her red, swollen face; it appeared she’d been struck near the left eye. She seemed to recognize Sal, who she hadn’t seen in years, then lowered her head and continued to sob.

  “Shhh, shhh,” Sal said, sitting next to her. “It’ll be okay.”

  Suddenly, Nancy hugged Sal tightly, sinking her head into his chest.

  “Tell me what happened? What’s wrong?”

  “Can’t find Janie.” She wiped her eyes on her blazer’s dirty sleeve. “I’m so worried. Haven’t seen her in a week. She always tells us where she is.” She looked up at Sal. “You have a tissue?”

  Sal sprinted to the men’s bathroom at the brick shed, grabbed several paper towels and rushed back to her. As Nancy dried her face and blew her nose, Sal took off his leather coat and placed it gently on her back.

  “Someone hit you?”

  “My ex-boyfriend. Tommy. Just asked if he’d seen Janie. She and her friend Jackie buy pot from him sometimes. Said he hadn’t and didn’t know where she was. Asked me to pay for the coke he gave me yesterday. I told him I had no money and he punched me.”

  Sal’s anger mounted; indignation and rage fueled him. “Sounds like a sweet guy. And where’s Tommy boy now?”

  “The handball courts.” Nancy pointed. Sal surveyed the courts from wh
ere he sat and saw three guys smoking by the fence.

  “Which one?”

  “On the left, the heavy one.”

  Sal reached down and tightened his boot laces, got up and rolled up his shirt sleeves.

  “Let’s ask why he hit you. Ask again about Janie. If he knows anything, believe me, he’ll tell me.”

  Like a raging bull, Sal sprinted to the courts to introduce himself to Tommy and his buddies. Tommy was leaning against the fence in an old Kiss T-shirt and dungaree jacket, smoking a joint with two buddies. His face was pockmarked, his beefy cheeks covered with stubble, and his eyes bulging like large blue marbles whose color had faded and now bled red from strong drink and lack of sleep.

  Upon seeing Sal’s aggressive stride, Tommy’s buddies began to back away.

  “We had nothing to do with it, dude,” one called as they both dashed out the park’s gate, leaving Tommy alone to confront Sal.

  “You Tommy?”

  “Yeah. Who the fuck are—”

  Sal rushed at Tommy, lifted him and slammed his doughy body into the fence. The fat man ricocheted back toward Sal, who again pushed him hard into the fence. Before Tommy could retaliate, Sal punched his stomach wildly and knocked the air out of him. Tommy collapsed and Sal jumped on top of him. He whacked both fists across his face and landed four more punches into his huge gut.

  “Why’d you hit Nancy you fat fuck?” Sal hauled Tommy toward the fence, shoving his head into a baseball-sized opening in the chain-link. “Why’d you hit her? Answer me.” Tommy’s head did not fit in the hole, but Sal was going to force it through no matter what.

  “You like hitting women, huh? Did it feel good? You know Nancy’s my good friend, you ugly fuck? How’s that feel?” Tommy’s nose was through the hole, but his cheeks were not; the fence’s rusty metal lanced them while Tommy struggled to pull away.

  Sal continued to push. With both hands around Tommy’s neck, Sal positioned his muscular body on Tommy’s back and for leverage, placed his right knee on Tommy’s rump and pushed hard, but his fat head would not fit through the opening. The metal ripped deep grooves in his face and Tommy gasped for air, but Sal didn’t stop. His anger had quadrupled in a short time. The more he hit Tommy, the angrier he got.