Donny's Inferno

by P. W. Catanese

  “What? No, I don’t. The good souls have to go somewhere.”

  “Fine, they go somewhere.”

  “And that might be heaven.”

  “Or it might be a nudist camp. What the heck do we know? We don’t get to see it.”

  “That doesn’t mean it isn’t there!”

  “And now this conversation has lapped itself,” Angela said. “Let’s take a walk.”

  • • •

  They strolled through the Piazza della Signoria, the breathtaking stone-paved square at the heart of Florence. It was remarkable to see the effect that Angela had in a busy place. Men constantly stole glances at her, and the bolder ones tried to catch her attention with smiles. It was more than her looks, Donny realized, or that spectacular blizzard of brunette hair she currently sported. It was the way she carried herself, and the air of mischief she projected.

  An old man on a squeaky bike pedaled past, looked over his shoulder at Angela, and called out, “Bella ragazza!”

  Angela waved with her fingers. “Thank you, random Italian man.”

  With its Renaissance palaces and towers and marble statues on display, all many centuries old, the piazza was a fresh air museum. The towering replica of the David stood outside the fortresslike Palazzo Vecchio. Not far from there, Perseus held the severed head of Medusa.

  Donny heard someone gasp behind him. It was an elderly woman, staring at them. She had a bag of groceries, but it slipped from her grip, and she bit the back of her hand as it spilled onto the ground. The other hand rose up, shaking, and pointed at Angela. “Mostro!” she croaked. “Infernale!”

  “Aw, shoot,” Angela said. People around them stopped to look at the commotion. She grabbed Donny by the arm. “We gotta scram.” They walked briskly across the piazza with Angela’s boots clacking on the stone. A flock of pigeons ahead burst into panicked flight when she came near, which prompted a nasty scowl from Angela. Donny glanced behind them, but the woman wasn’t following them. She simply stared and crossed herself over and over.

  They turned a corner, and Angela finally stopped and leaned against a wall. She looked back toward the piazza, her bottom lip jutting.

  “What just happened?” Donny asked. He noticed that Angela was red-faced, and her eyes gleamed.

  “Remember what I told you? Some people get freaked out when they get near me. That lady was one of the really sensitive ones. A big-time canary. But kind of a drama queen, don’t you think?”

  Donny nodded. Angela crossed her arms and puffed air from her cheeks. “Cricket, the only thing that’ll improve my mood now is more food. At least for that, we’re in the right country.”

  • • •

  Angela leaned back from the table at the restaurant, wearing a sleepy smile. “Best meal ever,” she said.

  Donny twirled the last of his pasta around his fork. “Yeah.”

  “I don’t want to go home yet,” she said.

  Donny had thought about something while they ate. He put his fork down and cleared his throat. “Can we go to another city, but back in the US?”

  She stared back. “We could. But why? There’s a place here where we can stay.”

  “I had an idea, that’s all. Where can we go? Besides New York.”

  “You name it. Boston, Miami, New Orleans, Chicago, Denver, Los Angeles, San Francisco . . .”

  “San Francisco is perfect,” Donny said. He had spent a week there with his father the year before, and gotten to know the city pretty well.

  Angela leaned forward with her chin on her hand. “You gonna tell me why?”

  “As soon as I’m sure it’s going to work,” he said. It was his turn to have a secret.

  CHAPTER 40

  At four o’clock in the morning Angela rented a suite at a hotel in San Francisco, handing stacks of cash to the bedazzled clerk at the front desk.

  “Sweet,” Donny said when he walked into the suite. It occupied the whole end of the top floor, and it looked like a place the president might stay if he were in town. “It has a pool table, for crying out loud.”

  “I’m pooped,” Angela said. “See you whenever. Don’t be surprised if I sleep for a loooong time.” She went into the biggest bedroom and shut the door.

  Donny had a choice of two other bedrooms, and he chose the one with a view of the old prison island of Alcatraz, and off in the distance, the Golden Gate Bridge. He sat on the bed, tugged his shoes off, and flopped onto his back. He only meant to rest for a minute and then brush his teeth, but he was asleep before he knew what hit him, and didn’t wake until nearly noon the next day.

  He felt woozy and disoriented after the sudden shifts from time zone to time zone. Also, his mouth was pasty and disgusting. After he brushed, showered, and changed into the clothes he’d packed, he went into the living area of the suite. Angela’s door was still closed. He found paper and pen and left a note on the counter for her, then took the elevator to the lobby. The doorman outside pointed him toward what he was looking for.

  An hour later he got back to the suite and found Angela gorging on an enormous room service breakfast. She could pack away an astonishing volume of food.

  “What are you up to, Cricket? You’re so mysterious.”

  Donny bounced in place and rubbed his hands together. “Okay, they’re going to do it. I can’t believe how perfect our timing was. This is so cool.”

  Angela arched an eyebrow. “Who is going to do what?”

  “You have to trust me,” Donny said. “Um. But you didn’t give me money this time. We need five hundred dollars.”

  “Five hundred! Not that I care about the money, but what exactly is it for?”

  “Don’t worry, you’re going to like it! Stop eating, let’s go already.”

  • • •

  Donny pulled her along the sidewalk by the wrist, leading the way for the first time he could recall. “Almost there. Just get the money ready.” He tugged her past a white brick building, and turned into the narrow driveway that led to its back entrance and a small parking lot with an EMPLOYEES ONLY sign. A door swung open, and a young man dressed in green surgical scrubs peered out. “There you are,” he said to Donny. “Whoa,” he said when he spotted Angela.

  “Give him the money,” Donny told her. Angela looked quizzically at the young man, who grinned back with his eyebrows riding high. “Are you in need of medical care, Cricket?” she asked Donny.

  Donny smiled and shook his head. “It’s not a hospital. Not a people hospital anyway.” Angela pulled out a wad of hundred-dollar bills and counted out five as the young man stared, wide-eyed. Donny grabbed the cash and stuffed it into the man’s hand.

  “I’m Billy,” the man said. “Come on.” Billy went into the building and held the door open for them to enter. As Angela went by, he looked her over from head to toe and back again. Angela gasped when she saw the decor in the hallway. The carpet was a pattern of animal paws. Posters lined the walls: the anatomies of cats, rabbits, and dogs.

  Billy opened the door to a brightly lit room with a white-tiled floor and medical instruments all around. A woman standing at a high silver table looked back over her shoulder as Donny and Angela stepped inside. “You weren’t kidding,” the woman said. Billy showed her the five ­hundred-dollar bills, and she sighed. “This is so bizarre. All right, then. Five minutes, though. And be gentle.” She stepped to the side, and Angela’s hand clamped over her mouth when she saw what was on the table.

  A dog lay sleeping with its chest gently rising and falling. It was a golden retriever, plump with abundant fur. There was a plastic tube in its mouth, secured with elastics to its snout, and it stared blankly into space.

  Angela’s eyes were shining. Her jaw trembled. “What . . . Why is that thing in its mouth?”

  The vet smiled. “Don’t worry. That tube is how we get the anesthetic into her, so she sleeps throu
gh the procedure. It’s normal for the eyes to be open too. But we keep them moist for her. So—you wanted to pet her?”

  Angela’s wobbly hand reached out. “Can I really . . . ?”

  “That’s why you’re here, right?” Billy said.

  “Really, truly?” Her mouth hung open. She slowly moved her hand toward the dog but then stopped with it suspended inches above.

  “Go ahead,” Donny urged.

  Billy nodded toward Donny. “This little guy told me you’re afraid of animals, but you thought you might be able to pet one this way?”

  Angela looked sideways at Donny. “Something like that,” she said. Her voice quaked. She closed her eyes and lowered her hand. When it touched the dog’s side, she gasped again, long and deep. Tears rolled down like an avalanche, soaking her cheeks. “So warm. So soft.” She ran her fingertips across the body. When she reached the cool, moist nose, she laughed, and a wide grin stayed plastered across her face. She leaned in and sniffed, and stared into one of the brown eyes. Then she turned to the vet. “Do you think I could pick her up?”

  The woman looked at Billy. “I don’t think—”

  “Another thousand,” Angela said. She pulled a stack of bills from her bag and thrust it at Billy. “Or whatever this is.”

  “As I was saying, I don’t think that would do any harm,” the woman said. “Just be really careful with the tubing.” She helped ease the dog into Angela’s arms. Angela ­cuddled the dog against her chest and whispered in her ears. Then she gently set her down on the table again.

  “Wait a minute,” Angela cried. “Is this animal sick? Is she going to die?”

  “No, she’s just getting fixed,” said the vet.

  Angela’s nostrils flared. Donny held his breath. “You’d better fix it, whatever’s wrong with her,” she said.

  The vet shot Billy a nervous look that seemed to say, Why did you bring this lunatic in here? “I mean, she’s getting spayed,” the vet said. “So she doesn’t have puppies.”

  Angela’s eyes boggled and her mouth opened wide. Before she could speak, Donny leaned close to her ear. “That’s a good thing, Angela. There are too many unwanted puppies in the world.”

  “Exactly,” said the vet.

  Angela puffed air out her nose and seemed to relax. She stroked the dog’s fur over and over until the vet finally said, “We really have to start now. It’s been more than five minutes.”

  Angela ran her hand from head to tail one more time, and then kissed the dog above one eye. She took a deep breath, stepped back, and pointed at the vet. “Fine. But you’d better be careful. And you too, mister. If I find out anything happened to this dog—”

  “We should go,” Donny said. He hooked Angela’s elbow and turned her to the door.

  “I’ll be watching you,” Angela threatened over her shoulder.

  Donny noted, with a little satisfaction, that Billy averted his eyes instead of watching Angela leave. The young man’s romantic aspirations had been put down, even if the dog would be all right.

  • • •

  Donny and Angela stepped outside into the parking lot. When the door was closed, she grabbed him by the shirt, lifted him off the ground, and pushed him against the wall with his toes barely touching the ground.

  “What?” Donny cried.

  “Why did you do that?” she said through her teeth. She looked like she’d lost her mind.

  “Why? Because you did that thing for my father, and I wanted to thank you. And you were sad, after that lady in Florence called you those names.”

  “You made me lose control,” Angela said. “Weeping in front of those idiots.”

  “I thought you’d be happy. You always wanted to pet—”

  “Yes!” Angela shouted, and she yanked Donny off the wall and into a hug. “I’ve always wanted that. Always, more than anything. Thank you. Thank you.” She sobbed, and nearly crushed him with her arms, and bawled and babbled into his ear. “Thankyou-thankyou-thankyou-­thankyou-thankyou.”

  Donny didn’t understand how she could be so strong and so soft at the same time.

  CHAPTER 41

  They returned to Sulfur the next day. Donny handed Grunyon a bag filled with dark bottles of vanilla extract, and Grunyon guzzled a pair on the spot. “You’ll make yourself sick,” Angela told him.

  They returned to Pillar Obscura, and Tizzy squealed when she saw the Batman T-shirt Donny had bought her. He had a rubber ball for Arglbrgl and a pair of San ­Francisco Giants baseball hats for Zig-Zag. “Take him to a double header,” Angela cracked when she saw them.

  Two days passed uneventfully. Angela waited for news about the inquiry. She paced restlessly about the place until she couldn’t take any more. “I’m going to find out what’s happening,” she said.

  “Careful,” Donny told her.

  “Don’t worry about me. I have touched a dog. I can die happy now.”

  Donny didn’t see her for the rest of the day.

  • • •

  The next morning Donny sat with Tizzy in the diner, having breakfast. Echo and Arglbrgl had been instructed to keep them safe, in case Havoc tried anything else, and so the two imps waited for them outside. Echo tossed the rubber ball that Donny had brought, and Arglbrgl ran to fetch it over and over.

  The bell on the door jingled, and Donny looked over to see Angela walk in. Her hair was as black as the first time Donny had met her, but the shortest yet. Tizzy ran over and hugged her.

  “Hello, Sweetums,” Angela said.

  “Get you anything, honey?” called Cookie from behind the counter.

  “A pot of tea will do,” Angela replied. “Oh, and an omelet with everything you got.”

  Donny smiled at her when she sat in the booth. Tizzy piled in after and dug into her breakfast again.

  “What happened with the inquiry?” asked Donny. “Do you think Havoc will be punished?”

  “I have no idea. They made me leave almost as soon as I got there,” Angela said.

  “They wouldn’t even let you watch?”

  Her face reddened. “Well . . . I might have started shouting at Havoc. That probably didn’t help. After they booted me, I went topside for a while, just to calm down and check my messages.” She took her phone out of her bag and held it up for Donny to see. “You’ll find this interesting,” she said. There was a message to Angela on the screen. “I got a note from Howard,” she said. “It’s about your father.”

  Donny gripped the edge of the table. “What does it say?”

  “I asked him to see what your good old dad has been up to since the big scare,” Angela said. “Howard writes, ‘Regarding Benjamin Taylor, father of Donald Taylor: he is somewhat of a mystery man. There is no good indication of how he makes his living. A few days ago he was devoting all his time to the search for his missing son.’ That’s you, Cricket!”

  “I know,” Donny said.

  Angela returned to the note. “‘An abrupt change seems to have come over him. He is currently in the process of selling many of his worldly possessions, and has made inquiries about putting his extremely valuable brownstone up for sale. He has also begun making substantial donations to charitable organizations in the city, in addition to volunteering at neighborhood soup kitchens and homeless shelters. He is in fact a model of selfless and generous behavior. One might almost think that an intense experience has prompted Mr. Taylor to reevaluate his life. I would hope that you, Miss Obscura, were not involved in this, given our last conversation, and our many other talks about maintaining a low profile.’”

  Angela smirked. “Oh, Howard, such a killjoy.” She put the phone away. “I love how he calls you Donald. Maybe I should call you Donald. It’s formal, but at the same time it calls to mind a certain pantless duck. No, you’re a Donny. Or a Cricket. I’ll just call you Donald if I’m mad at you.”

  Don
ny sank into his seat again, a smile spread wide on his face. He felt as warm as the teapot that Cookie set on the table in front of Angela. “Wow. You did it, Angela. You really did it.”

  She leaned back and clasped her hands behind her head. “Did you doubt me for a second?”

  The real answer was yes. Donny thought his father might wake up after fainting and figure he’d just had a nightmare, or a hallucination. He never dreamed that the transformation could be so fast and complete. It seemed too much to hope for. “I just hope it lasts,” he said.

  “Oh, I think it will,” she replied with a sly smile.

  Something in her voice made Donny wonder. “Angela, what exactly did you say to him? It must have been good, whatever it was.”

  “Oh, nothing much,” Angela said. She poured herself a steaming cup of tea.

  “Really, I’d like to know,” Donny said.

  “Maybe you don’t,” she said, taking a sip. She didn’t seem to mind that it was boiling hot.

  “Actually, I do.”

  Tizzy stopped chewing her scrambled eggs and looked from Donny to Angela. Angela returned Donny’s gaze.

  “You know what?” she said. “I forgot exactly what I said.”

  “No, you didn’t,” Donny shot back.

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Angela, I think you do remember, but you don’t want to tell me.”

  She set the teacup down and put her hands up. “Whoa. Now you’re calling me a liar? Easy with the accusations, Colonel Slanders.”

  “I didn’t call you a liar. I just—”

  “I can’t remember, Donald. Deal with it.”

  CHAPTER 42

  They left the diner and walked back toward Angela’s pillar. Along the way they passed the broken column where Sooth used to squat. A gnarled, potbellied imp who Donny had never seen before emerged from the rubble and stood before them. “Obscura,” he croaked. He was tiny, barely two feet tall. Blunt spikes jutted from his elbows.