Clean Sweep

by E. B. Lee

  “That’s just it. I don’t have time,” he repeated. “And I don’t think it’ll do diddlysquat.”

  Grant was acting just like Cedric. No matter. He needed help, and needed someone he trusted to support him and gently nudge him along.

  “I’m walking you home,” she said softly, knowing Grant’s answer before she said it.

  “No need,” he said.

  “I have to.” She could tell he hurt. “I can’t walk away this time. I can’t turn my back on my brother. I have to help.”

  “No. I really don’t want that.”

  “I know you don’t, but I know better. I know about Cooper’s Storage. Let me walk you home. There’s no reason to hide from me. I want to help.”

  Grant stared her down, showing no specific emotion, but Carli knew plenty had raced through him. All he said was, “I’m going,” and he darted through cars to the other side of the street. Carli stood watching, and believing she might never see her brother again.

  She hailed a taxi after Grant disappeared, and headed to the storage unit, not to talk, but to make certain he made it home. There was no telling what she had just done or what it might cause him to do. It was so damned hard being patient. A good block from Cooper’s, she slammed shut the car door and slid into the alcove of a quiet building across the street. For almost an hour, she squatted in the shadows, her legs aching from their contorted pressure. Finally, she watched Grant arrive home by foot, with a familiar brown bag tucked comfortably under his arm. He scanned the neighborhood before crossing the threshold. She would wait ten minutes and leave.

  When Carli straightened slowly, she was unaware Grant had slid back outside.

  “Hey!” he yelled. “Wait!” He held a bushel of clothes in his arms, clearly headed for the laundromat. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “I’m leaving,” she said. Grant stared her down. “Just wanted to know you were okay.”

  Surprisingly, he said, “Don’t go,” his anger gone. “It’s been a long day, and I don’t like surprises.”

  “That makes two of us, and I’ve had a few of them lately.”

  “You tried to help. I get it. Thanks.” Carli smelled the alcohol, of course. “Come on in,” he said.

  Grant was silent as he led her inside.

  “Why are you living here?” she asked.

  “What I want to know is how you knew.” Carli didn’t want to admit she had followed him and spied, but Grant took the news well.

  “The house doesn’t make the man,” he said. “It’s common sense and simple economics. I could pay many more hundreds of dollars a month for a single room, shared bath, peculiar neighbors, and be strapped for the rest of my life. Or, I could grind it out on the subway, smelling everybody’s end-of-the-day grime and inseam odors, only to live at the end of the line with a roommate who does God knows what. I’m not the roommate type, and it would make it harder to keep track of them. Disability? No. Housing run by corrupt landlords doesn’t work for me either.” He took a deep breath. “And neither did living on the streets.” His words fell on her like a lead anchor, and she must have shown it.

  “Yes, I was on the streets.” He spoke slowly, and dispassionately, like the steady roll of a clothes dryer’s drum. “A year and a half on the streets. How do you think I know them so well? Not individually, but the street sleepers and The Sweepers, in general. I know what they feel, what they see, hear, and go through.” He stared at Carli and nodded slowly.

  “One day, I got myself in. A couple of months before Mercy showed up. She knows, but no one else inside, not anymore. Outside, yes. I’m their example. Look at Rocky. He followed me in.”

  Carli swallowed. Confidential had been Mercy’s middle name. She hesitated, and then asked, “Where did you sleep?” Grant stared, as though assessing her ability to handle the facts. She asked again, “Where?”

  “With Madison. Midtown Synagogue. It was safer then. Less crowded too.” Carli closed her eyes a few seconds. Then, gazing at the metal storage room wall, she reached a hand in his direction. It caught him on the shoulder.

  “Yeah,” he said, sighing deeply enough to raise and lower her hand, “there’s a lot you don’t know. Nobody knows.”

  It was like Lucy’s dogs; she was compelled to follow.

  “Why did you go in?”

  “Hah!” Grant’s voice echoed back to life. “That’s the easy part of the story.”

  Carli waited.

  “I ended up in a crack house. Didn’t mean to. I was looking for a new place to stay and hadn’t hooked into this place yet. Madison told me there was a place somewhere around there, with a roof, no tenants, etcetera. As soon as I walked in, I knew I was in the wrong place. There was a whole group of them, a whole bunch of knives, a couple of guns, and a shot went off. Somehow, I was running faster than I knew I ever could, and they missed me. After that, I figured I’d been given another life, and I’d better use it. Funny how little things can change a man’s perspective.” A grin rose on his face.

  Carli felt her knees weaken. “You sold drugs, with Canada?” she asked. “That why you two are so close?”

  “Actually, I played chess for a living, and sold a few pints of blood.”

  “Blood? Chess?” she asked.

  His grin vanished. “Sure. In the park. Near the piers. I could take money off of everyone, especially with a few beers in me.” His voice spiked with excitement. “It was like I saw the entire game in front of me as soon as the other guy made his first move.”

  “A gambler,” said Carli.

  “I was good. Still am.”

  “You gambled with me too.”

  “Had a feeling.” He suddenly jumped topics. “Carli, I don’t have many options. I found one that works, at least for now. My ten-by-fourteen’s only two hundred and fifty bucks, with heat, water, electricity, and privacy included. Sometimes I pay the guard extra to keep a lid on it, call it a bonus. His name’s Neuman, by the way. If I have to move, there are a couple of others to choose from.” He paused for a moment, then said, “That’s why I don’t want doctors, tests, change. I have what I can handle, and it’s all I can handle. I know that. I’ve got stuff going on. I know. Ever since that fuckin’ cult. I know.”

  “How can you work with them, and not with yourself?”

  “How? Just can. I choose to. I’m not your average guy. Surely you see that.”

  “Grant, the house doesn’t make the person, but it’s the person I’m worried about. I don’t want you to stay like this. There has to be a better solution. Sometimes you’re all over the place, sometimes you are fighting to get out of bed. It would have been nice to get an easy answer today; neatly wrapped, no rough edges, and no question marks. But it doesn’t work that way. It takes time. You, of all people, know this. Give this a chance. Please.”

  Grant looked at her for a long while, but she knew he wasn’t looking at her at all. Knew he was looking inside himself.

  “Carli, let me tell you about testing. Let me tell you about giving it a chance.” He was suddenly on fire. “I went to the doctor for you. No other reason but to get you off my goddamned back. Neither you nor the doctor knows the half of it.”

  Carli braced herself.

  “You want to know about hospitals? About rehab centers? You want to know about me? Dear God, woman! Here it is. I’m only going over it once, so listen carefully.” His sudden anger was threatening. She checked the distance to the bin’s door.

  “I’ve been inside every hospital you can name, either with so-called clients or by myself. But that’s getting ahead.” His voice calmed. “I was married. Once upon a time, I was a lawyer. I told you about my job, but I don’t think you believed me.” Grant retrieved a business card and newspaper clipping to share as proof that he had both passed the bar and been an up-and-coming person in the field. Carli wasn’t surprised he had managed to legally change his name, finish college, and study law online and in person. Wasn’t surprised at all. He was always so damned gif
ted.

  “Now I’ll tell you about me, what I didn’t tell the doctor. Way back, we used to work hard and play hard. Drank and snorted, just about every last one of us. I was good at what I did, like I said, and loved the game, loved the ride. We all did. We were big, and I mean big. The whole scene was a giant high. After about ten years of it, they put me in detox, my friends did. Thought I should dry out. So, I did, and they thought it worked, but I’m really good at staying functional. They welcomed me home, I did the usual shit and then got bored. The fun was gone. So, I told my wife I was given a bonus vacation, which she believed, of course. Sometime in there, I met a shrink. We talked and he prescribed. I was officially depressed, but the stuff he gave me landed me in a psych ward. Had a bizarre reaction. Don’t know how long I was there, and don’t care. Sometime around then, I got some other stuff to take and went back to work. Going to AA, I got beat into believing all drugs were bad, so I stopped taking it. Going to AA was part of the deal for staying on the job. Anyway, they said work was slipping. Without billable hours, I was booted. Lousy bastards just shut me out, even though I know many of them must still be on plenty of stuff. Look at Madison’s clientele, for chrissake. Anyway, I was out. Out of work, love, marriage, out of my mind, but no one else could see what was wrong. I guess I rebelled and tried to start a new life by myself, without the rules. It was one hell of a mental crisis and midlife crisis, and I hadn’t hit midlife. The thing of it is, it wasn’t altogether awful. Think my wife was glad to see me go. Maybe the kids too. Two boys.”

  Carli couldn’t believe it. She was an aunt. And she had never met her nephews, let alone her brother’s wife. Dear God.

  “Basically, I drifted,” said Grant. “Lived with a friend for a while, but then I decided to see the big apple pie from a different vantage point. Something about the Statue of Liberty that I had to see. Anyway, I wanted to see how long I could live without a paycheck, see how nice people were. It was just another game and a change from all the people who weren’t so nice. Call it another gamble. And I was up for it. First night, tried a shelter. Second, third, same thing, all okay. By the fourth night, I thought I had the system down. Figured I’d hang out as long as I wanted, freeloading by day, sheltering it by night. Only that’s the night I watched some guy get his coat slit open, and part of his body with it. So, it was good riddance to the shelter and hello sidewalks. Hard to believe it looked better, ’cause, God, was I scared. Slept by day, and stayed up all night, like a bunch of them. After a while, I figured I ought to do something steady for food money. Tried a bunch of things – courier, sidewalk tie sales, though not all legal. Tried driving a car but had a couple of close calls with wrecks. My favorite was selling peanuts at the stadium.”

  Grant shifted position, looking more animated.

  “Yessiree. Peanuts in the park. Got to see all the games. Got a whole lot of baseballs in here somewhere.” Grant glanced around his bin. “Found beer when I had to, and boy did I sell.” He lifted his arm in the air and waved it holding an invisible bag of peanuts. “I’m nuts! I’m nuts!” his voice boomed. “Get your nuts here.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “Absolutely. In the face of competition, you have to make a name for yourself. After a while, I got tired of being out there at certain hours. Basically, lost another job. I had a great idea to scalp a whole bunch of tickets but was nabbed, and they took the tickets without paying. Lousy bums probably sold them themselves. Before you know it, I was out, completely, with Canada and chess. You know the rest.”

  The bin was so silent she heard the air moving in her ears.

  “Look, I drink sometimes,” he said.

  Carli closed her eyes for a moment, as a tear welled. “Did you tell the doctor?”

  “I told you, I went for you. As for me, I know I have crap. I ask myself what is wrong with me. I ask that all the time. But I’ve found a way to beat it. I get by. Forget I even went today. Hell,” he said with a laugh, “compared with where I’ve been, I’m on top of the world.”

  He reached for her arm. “We can’t choose our bodies or our minds. We can only control the extraneous crap like job, zip code, etcetera.”

  Carli continued to beat back tears. For as much as he had told her, she knew there was likely more he had left out. It didn’t matter. What mattered was building a future. For Grant, whoever he was now, she had all the time in the world, and she wasn’t going to let him down.

  Carli looked over his room, pulling details of items she had only scarcely grasped during her prior flash visit. Sneakers still lined a wall, but the jumble of pizza boxes now crowded the opposite corner. Clothes lay everywhere. How had he selected ones for the laundromat?

  “Nice bike,” she said, looking at his vintage, thick-tired bicycle.

  “Royal? She’s quite a roadster.” Grant nodded and smiled, as though reminiscing.

  “Royal? You named her?”

  “Doesn’t everybody? Name their bike, that is? I mean, just look at those fenders. Royal blue if I ever saw it. The bike I used for deliveries was stolen long ago, but ol’ Royal’s been good to me. I’ll have to take you out on her sometime.”

  “One seat and two people? No thanks.”

  “You’ve never ridden double before? Wobbled around on those handlebars? Once you get going, you cruise. I mean, really cruise with the weight of two.”

  “Never have. Thank God,” said Carli. “If the Delaney twins taught me one thing in life, it was don’t ever ride double.”

  “Hah! I remember them,” said Grant. “Always fighting over who rode and who pedaled. I thought you and I tried it a couple of times.”

  “I never had the courage,” said Carli. “Followed you into a lot of things, but somehow stayed clear of that one.”

  “Midnight’s always the best time to ride,” said Grant. “Midnight to about two or three in the morning.”

  “What? Over my dead body.”

  “I’ll call you sometime. And, don’t worry, I’ll go slow for starters.”

  Carli stared at his smile for a long time before asking, “What’s with the sneakers?”

  “Do a lot of walking. Like you don’t know that. Sometimes it’s easier to just buy in bulk. In case they get wet or something. I guess I could ditch a few. What do you think?”

  “Looks like you could open an outlet store, but I doubt you’ll outgrow them.”

  Grant quieted and looked at Carli a few moments. “You haven’t said anything about Mom and Dad.”

  Carli nodded slightly. “No ... I haven’t.” She lifted her eyes to his. “Moved,” she said. “You know ... how we all used to joke about the neighborhood moving a few blocks over as one after the other moved into the cemetery?”

  Grant nodded. He was silent for a few moments. “When?”

  “Dad went first. About twenty years ago. Mom, just a few years ago. She would have loved seeing you. Both of them would have. I bet they’re looking down on us right now,” she said.

  Grant reached his hand over to touch Carli’s arm. “It’s okay. We’re all good.”

  Carli bit her lip and nodded.

  “Hey, remember how we used to play Mother-May-I and hide-and-seek in the cemetery?” he asked.

  “Memories I’ll never forget,” she said. “Leaning against those headstones to take cover, and being scared out of my wits that some dead person would spring up and grab me.”

  “Hah! Me too,” said Grant.

  “You’re kidding.” Carli stared. “You always seemed fearless.”

  “Outside,” he said. “Only on the outside.”

  “Well, holy crap. If that place scared you, it’s no wonder I thought I was going to die every time I went in there,” said Carli. After a moment of reflection, she said, “We were pretty horrid, the lot of us.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The way we stomped on Mrs. Ryan’s grave? I mean, every time we played in the cemetery, we had fifteen kids jumping on the ground, like we were doing some kind of dance
ritual.”

  “Oh, right. Groundskeeper must have wondered why it was always trampled to smithereens in that one spot,” said Grant, laughing as he spoke. “But she was a grump, wasn’t she? Didn’t like anyone. Never fit in on the street. I remember the grownups talking about her. When she was alive.”

  “Something must have pushed her to act the way she did,” said Carli. “Something must have hurt her pretty bad. Or scared her. Pretty strange in our neighborhood.”

  “A definite outlier,” said Grant. He looked toward the metal ceiling and smirked. “Your dream came true, Mrs. Ryan. We all grew up, and you can finally rest in peace. Sorry for all of the disturbances.”

  Half an hour later, content with Grant’s safety, Carli headed home. Grant headed out with her. “About time I did my laundry and scouted around for a few of the guys,” he said.

  Twenty-Three

  Carli wanted to run into her studio and close the door shut to the world outside. Time was ticking, and the paint wasn’t flowing fast enough to meet her show’s timeframe. She looked at her unfinished sketch of Lila and Terrance and recalled them clicking across the wooden floor as she painted, occasionally checking in with gentle nudges to her leg. She hoped they were out for a walk or rolling on a nice green lawn. She smiled. She had done the right thing. It was with this frame of mind that Carli started painting.

  Hours later, Carli settled into the corner of her window seat to phone Pastor Miller.

  “Thanks again for helping with Lucy,” she said. “It was nice to see her home and surrounded by people she knew.”

  “It certainly brought relief,” said Pastor Miller. “Closure is always good. And it was nice to hear of all the good times, as well.”

  “Yes,” said Carli, “it was.”

  “Thelma, by the way, is mighty happy with your gift of the dogs,” he said. “I spoke with her earlier. She’s struggling to keep up, but I imagine they’ll all adjust.”