Paint It Yellow

by López, Andrés G.

  Tommy, expended of energy and wheezing from overexertion, allowed himself to be pulled away, and then, recognizing the severity of what he’d done, ran like a scared child into the dancers’ dressing room, where for the first time, Janie saw him for what he was: a lowlife user and abuser who’d robbed her of much of her youth. Already dressed in street clothes and panicked by what she’d seen, Janie grabbed her coat and pushed past Tommy. She ran out of the bar, past the small crowd gathered outside and down the block toward the subway. Tommy did not try to stop her. And he knew there was nowhere for him to run. He fell to the floor and waited for the cops and cuffs and an escort to the police station. He knew that this time he’d be doing some serious time at Rikers. He brought his bloody hands to his face and bewildered, cried into them.

  Soon, police and ambulance sirens could be heard wailing up Third Avenue, headed toward Caliente’s where Sal’s nearly pulseless body bled from gashes made by five knife wounds. Three police cruisers arrived on the scene at approximately eleven forty-five; two ambulances, just minutes later at eleven fifty. Sal was hooked to an IV and wheeled into the ambulance. He needed blood and nothing less than a miracle to survive.

  At Helene’s apartment, Gabriel waited for Sal’s arrival at midnight. He had the pound cake and coffee ready and wondered about the tale that Sal would tell, which he had earlier hinted would be highly unusual. So when he didn’t show, Gabriel worried. He poured himself a coffee and went to the bedroom window where he stared up and down the street, trying to spot a Checker. The street was quiet; he saw no pedestrians and heard little traffic from nearby Seventh Avenue, save the occasional car horn followed by a volley of angry dog barks. The sky was pitch black and starless, typical for winter, but toward the east it sported a purplish glow, which added to the night’s gloom.

  Now wide awake and sober, Gabriel wondered what he should do. He thought about phoning Sal at home; perhaps he had overslept or changed his mind about working the late shift. But if that were the case, he would have called. Maybe he had just passed out from the day’s exhaustion. Gabriel paced and looked out the window yet again. Nothing was visible but parked cars and a few lights that shone in apartment windows on both sides of the cold, lonely street. Gabriel felt the emptiness of old regrets, missed opportunities, lost love and the meandering, often senseless wanderings of the mind in its desperate search for meaning. After all, what a day it had been! How should he see the things that had happened? It was a miracle that he hadn’t killed himself or someone else by speeding on the Triboro. Why had he been so careless and risked so much to get a fare to the airport on time? His behavior had been irrational and foolish and he knew it. Was it by chance that he’d survived and not been propelled through the windshield to his death? Or had some invisible hand saved him? God’s hand? — to whom he’d fervently prayed all day. The remnant of faith that still filled Gabriel and led him to pray told him — yes, it was God’s work. And for a moment, he felt at ease, but doubt soon crept in. Perhaps it wasn’t God but some other mysterious force that operates in the universe, what Hardy termed the “Immanent Will that stirs and urges everything.” Had such a “Spinner of the Years” spared him? Like an electron in orbit, Gabriel’s mind spun with wild imaginings and incontrovertible scientific truths. Was it the caffeine hammering his brain, or just an inner agitation fueled by fear? These far-flung thoughts and doubts shook him, but his faith’s thin fabric held firm, like gossamer strands of spider’s web braving strong winds.

  Gabriel craved his best friend’s company. The disappointment of not seeing Sal’s face or hearing his loud, rebellious banter unsettled him. He poured himself more coffee. The second caffeine jolt perked his spirit; optimism set in; perhaps Sal had gotten yet another interesting trip. Maybe he would come by a little later.

  With coffee cup in hand, Gabriel entered the living room and went to the small bookshelf above Helene’s desk. He glanced at his books — Capote’s In Cold Blood, Vonnegut’s The Sirens of Titan, and Camus’s The Stranger — which he’d placed neatly by her favorites. He grabbed Camus’s novel and headed back into the kitchen for another piece of cake. Under the dim fluorescent light that hung above the table, he opened it and read again its strange opening sentences. This story haunted him, dug its disjointed scenes into his psyche. In minutes, Gabriel was again with Meursault at his mother’s vigil.

  At that same moment, just two and a half miles away from where Gabriel read this strange story, Sal clung to life with each short breath he took at New York–Presbyterian Hospital on William Street. The operating room lights shone bright and hot on Sal’s pale body like the summer sun in Algiers on Meursault during the long funeral march. Three skilled surgeons, each secretly begging for help from beyond, worked methodically to stop the bleeding from dozens of severed veins and arteries around Sal’s major organs (which had — miraculously — been missed by the knife’s sharp point, save for one lung which, like a flat tire, had been patched promptly and reinflated).

  Gabriel discovered the nightmare his best friend had survived the next morning at Ann Corp, when he walked in to check on the status of Vito’s car. Upon hearing the news, he took a cab to the hospital to see his best friend who was still in critical condition. Gabriel stepped into a small room in intensive care to find Sal’s father, mother and sisters huddled in a corner, praying and dazed. On an elevated bed, Gabriel saw his best friend hooked up to dozens of monitors and tubes, and he began to pray. In the midst of a Hail Mary, lines from Dylan Thomas’s poem for his dying father, “Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night,” entered his mind. And he was filled with hope.

  Gabriel recited the familiar lines of that beautiful villanelle with conviction, many times that afternoon by Sal’s bedside. He begged God to save his best friend. Still in a deep coma, Sal fought, like the warrior he was, for his life.

  CHAPTER 43

  For eleven long days Sal clung to life by the thinnest of threads — as thin as the fibers spiders weave between trees. Those miracle webs, one of Nature’s wonders, paled in evoking awe, compared to the recuperative potential of a battered human being. The doctors were amazed at Sal’s resilience as his body fought to lick the trauma it had endured. Sal had never counted himself among the lucky — it was Gabriel he always saw as the recipient of such a gift; but he had been by far the “luckiest young man” his chief surgeon had ever seen. Had the knife entered Sal’s back a millimeter in any other direction, had he lost another half pint of blood or arrived at the emergency room five minutes later, he would have died. As it stood, whatever number of years Sal would live, they were all a bonus, a blessing, a fabulous fortune won on Fate’s roulette wheel.

  Sal’s sisters, Laurie and Clémence, visited their brother daily and prayed by his side. Sal’s mother Antonia was at work days but came each night at five thirty and stayed till midnight. And his father, Rodolfo, poured through astrological books and said incantations in an inconspicuous corner of the room — counting on the stars to intervene and deliver his son from darkness.

  Julia blamed herself for not begging Sal to stay home on the night he was stabbed. She knew he was exhausted that night, but she didn’t know that no amount of pleading would have stopped him from going out. Gabriel wanted to tell her the truth, but he would leave it up to Sal, when he woke up (for Gabriel was sure he would).

  The greatest surprise had been when Sal’s older brother Jacob appeared, clean-shaven, in a crew cut and Marine fatigues, and with flowers for Sal. It had been years since Sal had fought back and beaten Jacob so badly. The brothers had not spoken since, and Sal had gained Jacob’s respect. Jacob carried the guilt of that time like a sack of grenades, as he realized the magnitude of what he’d done. He’d often considered apologizing; he needed to look Sal in the eye, to say sorry to his face — that would take courage, that’s what a real man would do. But he never did. And when Jacob moved out of the house in 1976, it seemed unlikely that he ever would. But he had found the courage to leave the Hell’s Demons. One
day in 1978, he gave up his long hair and leather, enlisted in the Marine Corps and went off to boot camp at Parris Island. Strong and smart, he impressed his master sergeant so much that he was fast-tracked to become an officer.

  It was unusually cold on January 8, 1982, when Sal came out of his coma. When he opened his eyes in room 313 on that frigid Friday, the two nurses who cared for him gave each other high fives, hugged Sal’s young sisters like happy children at Christmas and dashed to the ICU desk to summon Dr. Strauss and share the good news.

  When Sal spied Jacob in the room that afternoon, he knew why he’d come. Gabriel had told him that one day Jacob would change for the better, would realize what a gift it was to have a brother and love him. Sal had scoffed at Gabriel’s romantic notion then, had insisted that would never happen (ever! He didn’t need Jacob for shit!); but here before him was a transformed Jacob, a Marine who now risked his life to protect American freedom — street thug turned warrior — someone who, in Gabriel’s honor, Sal would give another chance.

  As Sal regained more of his energy and understood the magnitude of the assault he’d lived through, he missed his best friend, someone whose unwavering belief in people brought hope to those around him. It was the thought of Gabriel that brought Sal a peace he’d never known he could feel around Jacob, which allowed Sal to expunge the deep-rooted hatred in his heart.

  It was not awkward or tense, but tender, when Jacob and Sal finally spoke. They were alone. Jacob rose and brought his chair to Sal’s bedside. He was silent for many minutes, didn’t know what he could say to make Sal forget the pain he’d inflicted on him. Then he began to cry.

  “I love you, brother,” he said.

  “I know. I know you do. I love you too, Jacob.”

  Sal extended his hand and Jacob grabbed and kissed it, then buried his head on the bed as years of repressed regret were finally released. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me!”

  “It’s okay. We’re good now. That’s all that matters.”

  Sal rubbed Jacob’s head, stroked away the pain — all the hurt he’d endured as a child.

  “We’ll be good from now on.”

  When Antonia arrived later on, Jacob stayed with her till midnight. For six hours each day, Jacob was a fixture, his brother’s guardian, a sphinx gazing into the future, purged of the pain he’d carried, eager to love. Jacob had also rediscovered religion and prayed to Saint Bernardino Dal Vago to cleanse his soul; he had been granted the chance to remake himself, to rise like a phoenix from the ashes of his destructive former life. He vowed to become a new man. When he awoke the next morning, Sal made the same promise.

  CHAPTER 44

  Gabriel told Helene about Sal’s ordeal and his need to stay close to his best friend to see him through it, and the two agreed to postpone their meeting in Minnesota. And though still unsure if it would come to pass, she said there was a possibility that she might return to NYU for her final semester. The thought of having Helene back by month’s end was music to Gabriel’s ears.

  Gibbs gave Gabriel the freedom to set his own schedule during this tough time and Gabriel cut his driving down, often quitting by three in the afternoon so he could run over to the hospital. On January 13, another frigid day in the city, Gabriel paced in the hospital lobby, waiting for Paul. Sal was set to be released that Friday. He had been moved from the ICU and brought to the fourth floor where he could be monitored but also move about freely and exercise. Sal’s faculties had all returned after coming out of his coma, but his back and chest were sore. The hydrocodone worked its magic and he would need to take that for weeks.

  Sal found himself walking the corridors (most of his strength had returned), stirring up trouble by bringing cigarettes to patients who were banned from smoking, getting carbonated beverages from the soda machine (forbidden to him) and just looking to escape from the monotonous hours by sneaking downstairs to hang out with the nurses he liked in the ICU.

  When Gabriel and Paul walked into his room, Sal was happy to see them. He missed his best friends, but more important, Sal had something he wanted to tell Gabriel, something he’d made up his mind to share with him. On the day Jacob had asked his forgiveness, Sal had had a revelation. He had realized there was something special about Gabriel’s romantic notions, about his lingering affection for Mandy, which Sal had ridiculed. Gabriel’s outlook, which Sal had thought unrealistic and stupid, was refreshing. For Gabriel, there was always hope, room for belief that situations, no matter how dire, could get better, that people, no matter how callous, could soften, no matter how crushed by hate, could love again. For Sal, it was hopeless to believe in this potential for change, to be at the mercy of this possibility. And yet, when he saw Jacob cry by his bed and ask his forgiveness, he understood he’d been wrong.

  “It’s great to see you up and about, Sal,” Paul said, as he hugged him.

  “Thanks, little man. I can’t wait to get outta here.”

  Gabriel hugged Sal, then stood back and smiled. “Look at you. Lazarus come back from the dead. You amaze me. But I had a good feeling about you the whole time in ICU. Was sure you were coming back. You had a lot of people in that room pulling for you.”

  Gabriel thought of Sal’s family, of Julia and of Jacob especially, whom he’d been thrilled to see praying daily. “I knew you wouldn’t leave us. Knew you’d get better.”

  Sal teared up and hugged Gabriel’s head to his chest, burying his face in Gabriel’s hair. As he felt Sal’s strong heartbeat thumping by his ear, Gabriel thanked God for his divine mercy and this miraculous deliverance.

  “I felt the love,” Sal said, while holding on. “Wherever the hell I was all those days, I sensed I was not alone. I’m lucky and grateful.”

  Sal released Gabriel and asked the boys to sit down in his office. He went to the bathroom, relieved himself, took a hydrocodone pill and then wiped his sweaty face with a small towel. Finally, he grabbed a chair with the brothers and gazed at them like Cortés on Aztec gold. Sal didn’t quite know how to express to Gabriel the joy he felt about Jacob coming to see him, but soon the words flowed out of him like raindrops from a promising sky.

  “You were right about Jacob. When I saw him in the room, I thought of you. You always believed one day he’d come apologize. All the anger I felt toward him left me the second he said he loved me. I’d waited so long to hear him say that. And it was easy to say it back. He’s a different person now — did you see? A fuckin’ Marine! You believe that shit?”

  “He looks incredible,” Gabriel answered.

  “He’s really changed — done something great with his life. You were so fuckin’ right.”

  Sal’s hands began to tremble, and overcome with pride at Jacob’s turnaround, he buried his head in them to cry. “So fuckin’ right,” he repeated.

  “You both have another chance,” Gabriel said, leaning forward to offer some comfort to his friend.

  “Yeah, we do,” Sal said, as he sobbed. “You never gave up hope. Why were you so sure?”

  “Just felt it. Knew one day he’d see how blessed he was to have you.”

  “Thanks for believing.” Sal paused and caught his breath, but the emotion zapped his strength. “I hope someday Mandy returns. So you can feel how I do now. Hope that miracle happens for you.”

  “Maybe it will,” Gabriel said and choked up. “Thanks for wanting that for me.” He stood up and put his hands on Sal’s shoulders. “But don’t forget, the biggest miracle today is that you’re here with us.”

  They helped him climb into bed and pulled the blanket up to his shoulders. Within seconds, he was asleep and they sat in their chairs and waited, realizing how physically weak Sal still was. Sal’s emotional healing would take time, the buried pain would surface like a submarine thousands of leagues under the sea, rising a few feet an hour in turbulent, murky waters.

  When Sal woke feeling rested and spied Gabriel and Paul in the far corner of the room, he decided to tell them of his episodes prior to th
e one that had landed him in the hospital. He was so glad his friends had stuck around and wanted to enjoy their remaining time together before his family arrived. Sal related the details of his lucrative trip to the Hamptons with sexy Sylvia and her husband, the hopeful novelist, but didn’t confess his lustful desire to seduce her. Instead, he focused on the appearance of the “fuckin’ Riverhead cop,” how the speeding ticket and court date had made him furious and how his bribery attempt had almost landed him in jail.

  “Looking back on it,” Sal said, “I think I would’ve been better off if that cop had taken me in. I wouldn’t be here right now, that’s for sure.”

  It was then Gabriel’s turn to tell Sal about his accident, speeding ticket and court date.

  “Can’t believe you wrecked Vito’s wheels,” Sal said. He shook his head and laughed. “That Sicilian’s gonna kick your ass.”

  “Hope no one tells him, or I’m in trouble. Carl said he’ll make sure no one does cause he doesn’t want to hear Vito’s shit.”

  “I think the lesson here,” Paul said, “is that you both better slow down.”

  “If we do, little man, we’ll never make a buck. We just gotta get better at bribing cops.”

  The three laughed.

  “Shit, I could sure use a beer and smoke,” Sal said. “Can’t wait to get the hell out of here. Can’t believe I’ll have to settle for a fruit juice again. Gabe, can you get me something cold? See if they’ve got some lemonade.”

  Gabriel left and returned with a container of lemonade, a tuna on rye sandwich and two new visitors for Sal. Nancy and Janie Camino, dressed elegantly and with their hair nicely styled, entered the room behind Gabriel. As soon as Nancy saw Sal, she rushed to hug him; she held him for well over a minute and planted kisses on his cheeks, all the while thanking him for finding Janie and helping her see what a creep Fat Tommy really was.