“It’s for—”
He leaned too far.
Oh, shit, he’s falling!
“—yooooouuuuu!”
Shanna’s high-pitched scream of “Noooo!” blended with Jake’s voice in a fearful harmony that ended with his head striking the upper edge of the elevator car’s rear wall. As the rest of his body whipped around in a wild, blood-splattering, pinwheeling sprawl, his shoed foot slammed against Shanna’s head, knocking her back against the door lever. Half-dazed, she watched the steel doors reverse their opening motion.
“No!”
And Jake . . . Jake was still moving, crawling toward her an inch at a time on twisted arms, broken legs, his shattered head raised, trying to speak, still clutching the vest in one hand, still offering it to her.
The coat seemed to ripple around her, moving on its own. She had to get out of here!
The doors! Shanna lunged for the opening, reaching toward the light from the deserted front foyer. She could make it through if—
She slipped on the blood, went down on one knee, still reaching as the steel doors slammed down on her wrist. Shanna heard her bones crunch as pain beyond anything she had ever known ran up her arm. She would have screamed but the agony had stolen her voice. She tried to pull free but she was caught, tried to reach the lever but it was a good foot beyond her grasp.
Something touched her foot. Jake—it was what was left of Jake holding his vest out to her with one hand, caressing her bare foot with one of the fur strips wrapped around the fingers of his other hand. She kicked at him, slid herself away from him. She couldn’t let him get near her. He’d want to put that vest on her, want to try to do other things to her. And she was bare-ass naked under this coat. She had to get free, get free of these doors, anything to get free!
She began chewing at the flesh of her trapped wrist, tearing at it, unmindful of the greater pain, of the running blood. It seemed the natural thing to do, the only thing to do.
Free!
She had to get to get free!
IV
Juanita wasn’t having much luck tonight. She’d just pushed her shopping cart with all her worldly belongings the length of a narrow alley looking for a safe place to huddle for the night, an alcove or deep doorway, someplace out of sight and out of the wind. A good alley, real potential, but it was already occupied by someone very drunk and very nasty. She’d moved on.
Cold. Really felt the cold these days. Didn’t know how old she was but knew that her bones creaked and her back hurt and she couldn’t stand the cold like she used to. If she could find a place to hide her cart, maybe she could sneak into the subway for the night. Always warmer down there. But when she came up top again all her things might be gone.
Didn’t want to be carted off to no shelter, neither. Even a safe one. Didn’t like being closed in, and once they got you into those places they never let you go till morning. Liked to come and go as she pleased. Besides, she got confused indoors and her mind wouldn’t work straight. She was an outdoors person. That was where she did her clearest thinking, where she intended to stay.
As she turned a corner she spotted all the flashing red and blue lights outside a building she remembered as a warehouse but was now a bunch of apartments. Like a child, she was drawn to the bright, pretty lights to see what was going on.
Took her a while to find out. Juanita allowed herself few illusions. She knew not many people want to explain things to someone who looks like a walking rag pile, but she persisted and eventually managed to pick up half a dozen variations on what had happened inside. All agreed on one thing: a gruesome double murder in the building’s elevator involving a naked woman and a half-naked man. After that the stories got crazy. Some said the man had been flayed alive and the woman was wearing his skin, others said the man had cut off the woman’s hand, still others said she’d chewed her own hand off.
Enough. Shuddering, Juanita turned and pushed her cart away. She’d gone only a few yards when she spotted movement as she was passing a shadowed doorway. Not human movement; too low to the ground. Looked like an animal but it was too big for a rat, even a New York City rat. Light from a passing EMS wagon glinted off the thing, and Juanita was struck by the thickness of its fur, by the way the light danced and flickered over its surface.
Then she realized it was a coat—a fur coat. Even in the dark she could see that it wasn’t some junky fun fur. This was the real thing, a true, blue, top-of-the-line, utterly fabulous fur coat. She grabbed it and held it up. Mira! Even in the dark she could see how lovely it was, how the fur glistened.
She slipped into it. The coat seemed to ripple away from her for a second, then it snuggled against her. Instantly she was warm. So warm. Almost as if the fur was generating its own heat, like an electric blanket. Seemed to draw the cold right out of her bones. Must’ve been ages since she last felt so toasty. But she forced herself to pull free of it and hold it up again.
Sadly, Juanita shook her head. No good. Too nice. Wear this thing around and someone’d think she was rich and roll her but good. Maybe she could pawn it. But it was probably hot and that would get her busted. Couldn’t take being locked up ever again. A shame, though. Such a nice warm coat and she couldn’t wear it.
And then she had an idea. She found an alley like the one she’d left before and dropped the coat onto the pavement, fur side down. Then she knelt beside it and began to rub it into the filth. From top to bottom she covered the fur with any grime she could find. Practically cleaned the end of the alley with that coat. Then she held it up again.
Better. Much better. No one would recognize it and hardly anybody would bother trying to take it from her the way it looked now. But what did she care how she looked in it? As long as it served its purpose, that was all she asked. She slipped into it again and once more the warmth enveloped her.
She smiled and felt the wind whistle through the gaps between her teeth.
This is living! she thought. Nothing like a fur to keep you warm. And after all, for those of us who do our living in the outdoors, ain’t that what fur is for?
TOPSY
I’m inna middle a chewing on dis giant lasagna noodle when Nurse Delores appears.
I’m inna middle a chewing on dis giant lasagna noodle when Nurse Delores appears.
“Morning, Topsy!” she says as she marches inta da room in her white uniform.
Dey call me Topsy.
Don’t ax why dey call me dat. My name’s Bruno. But evybody here calls me Topsy.
“Oh, no,” she says. “You’ve been eating your sheets again!”
I look down an see she’s right. My sheets is all chewed up. I guess dat weren’t no giant lasagna noodle after all.
God I’m hungry
“Ready for breakfast?” she says all bright an cheery.
Course I’m ready for breakfast—I’m dyin for breakfast—but I don’t say nuttin. Cause what dey call breakfast here ain’t. Ain’t lunch or dinner neither. Just liquid. Not even a shake. I amember when I useta eat diet shakes. Useta drink ten a dem fa breakfast. An anotha fa coffee break. Dey’re junk. I neva lost weight on dem. Not once.
But no shakes roun here. Just dis clear glop. And here she comes wit a whole glass of it.
“Here, Topsy. Open your mouth and drink this,” she says, all Mary Sunshine perkiness.
If my hands weren’t strapped to da side of da bed I’d grab her an make her drink it herself an see how much she likes dat shit.
She tilts da glass toward my lips but I turn away.
“Come on, Topsy,” she says. “I know you don’t like it, but it’s this or nothing.”
“No!”
“Come on, Topsy. Do it for Delores. Don’t be mad at me. The protein hydrosylate isn’t my idea. It’s doctor’s orders. And it’s working. You’re down to twelve hundred and thirty pounds now.”
Still I don’t open.
“Come on, baby. It’s this or go hungry. Open up.”
Sometimes she calls me baby, but
dat don’t make it taste better, believe me.
I open an pretend it’s a milk shake. A big double chocolate praline shake laced wit wet walnuts.
Don’t help. I gag an wanna barf it all ova da place but manage to choke it down. Gotta. It’s all I’ll get til lunch. An dat’ll only be a salad.
God I’m so hungry.
Dey don’t unnerstan aroun here. Don’t seemta realize dat I gotta eat. Dey say dey’re helpin me by stickin needles in my arms an feedin me teeny bits of veggies an barely a mouthful of whole-grain sumpin-or-otha an dis liquid protein shit, but dey ain’t helpin. Ain’t helpin me one bit.
Guy’s gotta eat.
Useta be so good when my brotha Sal an his wife Marie was takin care a me. I was happy den. Dat’s cause dey unnerstood. Dey knew I hadda eat. Boy could dey cook. No limit, man. Anyting I wanted, it was dere on da bed tray soon as I said.
Dey unnerstood me, know’m sayin?
Breakfast was da best. On regula days Marie’d whip me up a coupla dozen eggs over easy wit a coupla poundsa bacon an lotsa dose spicy Jimmy Dean sausage patties. Love dat Jimmy Dean sausage. Den she’d make me a gigantic stack a ten-inch pancakes swimmin in butta an Vermont maple syrup. An on special days, like Satadays an Sundays, she’d go all out an add in a whole platterful a eggs Benedict. Love eggs Benedict. All dat Hollandaise sauce over dose poached eggs on English muffins an Canadian bacon. Heaven, man. Absolute heaven.
Midmornings dere’d be Entenmann’s sugar crumb cake or cheese babka or my favorite, All Butter French Crumb cake. Or sometimes lox an bagels wit cream cheese an herring in cream sauce.
Neva could tell what lunch was gonna be. Sometimes a coupla family-size buckets of da Colonel’s Extra Crispy fried chicken, but most times Sal’d bring me in tree or four sausage an pepperoni pizzas or half a dozen subs from Vinnie’s. Da subs were da best, man. Pepper an egg, veal parmesian, Italian delight, an da Kitchen Sink sub wit evyting on it.
Loved lunch, man.
Midafternoons I’d do it kinda light. Jus some coffee an a coupla packages a Oreos. Or maybe some Little Debbie Satellite bars. When it was hot, Sal’d get me a gallon a Welsh Farms peanut butter swirl ice cream. He’d mix it up wit a can of Hershey’s chocolate syrup an I’d be in heaven, man.
Dinner’d start aroun five cause I couldn’t wait no longer. Marie’d cut me up a nice cold antipasta while Sal’d broil up a coupla dozen garlic clams oreganata. Den da pasta—a coupla poundsa Marie’s super linguine wit white clam sauce, da noodles swimmin in butter an garlic, an da diced clams piled all over da top. Next da fish, usually a coupla tree- or four-pound lobsters or half a dozen pounds a shrimp done up scampi style. After dat, a meat, maybe steak or veal or a nice Krakus ham. For dessert, maybe anotha gallon a da peanut butter swirl or a nice cherry cheesecake, or a coupla peach pies a la mode wit some cannoli onna side.
My bedtime snack was always candy. Sal’d let me have all da Snickers bars I wanted. He’d buy dem by da case an leave a whole box right by my bed so’s I could grab one anytime I got hungry. An let me tell you, I got hungry a lot durin da night. But I neva woke Sal or Marie. I knew dey needed deir sleep. I was a good guy. I hung on an starved till breakfast.
Sal an Marie knew how to take care of me. Dey knew what I needed. Dat I hadda eat. Dey understood about eatin, know’m sayin?
Evyting was great till dat day when dey was both out at once. Dey hardly ever left me alone. I mean, sure dey went out togetha once inna while, but neva for long. Dis time dey was gone a long time. A coupla hours, maybe, an I was starvin. Not jus hungry, man. I mean starvin!
An I couldn’t get outta bed.
Wasn’t always dis big. I mean, like I was always big accordin to Ma. Born big an jus kept gettin bigger, she always said. But now I’m huge, man. Take up a whole damn king-size bed. Can’t get outta bed on my own. Always needed help from Sal or Marie. Good ting Marie’s real strong—good
Sicilian stock—or she’d’ve been no help. But all I needed was for one of dem ta give me a little boost an someone to lean on while I shuffled to da batroom. Dey took off da doorframe but still I can barely turn aroun in dere. Lucky I only go twice a day. An it don’t matter if I’m doin number one or number two, man, I gotta sit. First of all, I can’t stand dat long. An second, well, I mean, I ain’t seen my dick in at least ten years, so da only way I can be sure I ain’t peein onna floor is to sit. An even den I sometimes miss da bowl. And when I take a dump . . .
Let’s not talk about dat.
Anyways, Sal an Marie was gone fa hours an I was starvin so I tried to get outta bed on my own. Took forever, but I managed to sit up by myself. Made me feel good. Hadn’t done dat on my own in years. Den by holdin onta da bedpost I somehow got myself to my feet. I started shufflin cross da bedroom, takin little teeny steps so’s I wouldn’t lose my balance. God, I din’t want to tink what would happena me if I toppled over an wound up onna floor. I mean, man, dey’d hafta bring in a crane or sumpin ta get me up again.
An just as I was tinkin about it, it started happenin. I started swayin. Little sways at first, den bigger ones. I tell ya I was scared to det. I aimed myself for da doorway, figrin I could hold onta da jamb, but started tee-terin as I stumbled an I slammed inna da doorway wit a awful crack. I saw da wallboard crack an heard da studs inside groan an creak, but da wall held an I was still on my feet. I hadn’t fallen!
But I was stuck. Usually I went troo dat door sideways. Now I was jammed inta it at a angle an no matter how I tried I couldn’t move out or in. I was scared. I started gettin pains in my chest an my heart started racin like crazy. I hadn’t been on my feet for dat long a time in more years dan I could amemba. Couldn’t breathe. I yelled fa help. Screamed my freakin lungs out, but not fa long. My chest was gettin all congested, like I was fillin up wit water or sometin. I couldn’t scream no more. Evyting got fuzzy, den evyting got black.
Next ting I knew I was in dis place.
It’s a hospital room. Actually it’s not a room, it’s what dey call a suite. Two rooms. I’m in da big room, but dere’s a smaller one straight ahead a me dat’s like a little kitchen wit a fridge an a microwave an stuff. An dere’s a batroom off to my right but in all da time I’m here I ain’t been in it yet. Dey told me what hospital I’m in but I forgot. Who cares, anyway? Da important ting is dey’re starvin me!
“Time for your bed bath,” Delores says as she comes in carryin a basin of soapy water. She stops an stares at me. “Good Lord, Topsy! You’re eating your pillow!”
I look. Oh, yeah. I guess I am. I tought it was a big marshmallow.
I spit feathers.
“Never mind,” she says wit a sigh. “Let’s get to the ablutions.”
Most guys would get off bein washed down by a blonde dish like Delores, but I gotta admit I’m too hungry ta tink about anyting but food.
“Gimme a treat, Delores.”
“Shush!” she says, glancin around my room. “What if one of the doctors heard you?”
“Don’t care. Need a treat.”
“After your bath.”
“No. Now. Gotta have sometin.”
“Oh, all right.”
As she reaches into her uniform pocket I can feel da juices pour into my mout. She pulls out one of dose little low-sugar caramels she sneaks in for me an unwraps it.
“Stop it, Topsy,” she says. “You’re droolin all over yourself. Open up.”
I open an she pops it into my mout, jerkin her fingers back real quick cause I accidently bit her once.
I taste da caramel. Da sweetness runs all over da inside of my mout.
Oh GodohGodoh GodohGodoh GodohGodoh Godoh God!
I near start ta cry.
“Come on, Topsy,” Delores says, pattin my arm. She’s a good nurse. She feels for me. I can tell. “You’ll be all right.”
“Need food!”
“You need to lose weight, that’s what you need. You almost died of congestive heart failure back in your house. It’s lose weight or die, Topsy.”
/> I figure I’d ratha die cause starvin like dis is worse dan det.
“Where’s Sal? Where’s Marie?”
“Do we have to go through that again?” Delores says as she starts rubbin a soapy washcloth on my belly. I look down at my bare skin. Looks like acres a ice cream.
“Troo what again?”
“I know you don’t want to accept it, Topsy, but your brother and his wife have been indicted for attempted murder and they’re out on bail awaiting trial. They are forbidden by the court to come anywhere near you. They were trying to kill you, Topsy.”
“No. Dey treated me good! Dey fed me!”
“They were feeding you to death, that’s what they were doing. A nifty little scheme, I’ve got to admit. You kept signing checks so they could buy you food, big checks that allowed them to live high while they kept pumping you full of the worst kind of food you can imagine.”
“Good food,” I told her. “Da best!”
“The worst! High fat, high calorie. Your blood sugar and cholesterol and triglycerides were through the roof! And when they got you to fifteen hundred pounds, they left you for a day. They knew you’d try to get out of bed, and they figured you’d fall and die on the floor. Well, it almost worked. Lucky for you that you got stuck in the doorway and someone heard you yell. Even then you almost didn’t make it. By the time they broke through the wall of the house and hoisted you out, you were so far gone into heart failure you almost died in the back of the truck on the way to the hospital. It almost worked, Topsy. The rats almost got your money.”
“Ain’t got no money.”
“Oh, really? Folks with no money can’t afford a private hospital suite like this. What do you call that twelve million dollars you won?”
Oh, yeah. Dat. I won dat inna state lotto a few years ago. I forget tings sometimes. I amemba Sal an Marie bein real happy for me. Dat’s when dey moved in an started takin care of me. Dey treated me real good. Dey unnerstood dat I gotta eat.
I always hadda eat. Evyting I amemba bout bein a kid is food. Ma cooked for me alia time, an when she ran outta food I’d go over my fren’s houses and deir moms’d fix me stuff. I lost my first job as a kid makin deliveries for Angelo’s Grocery because I useta eat half da stuff along da way. And whateva job I had, I always spent da money on food.
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