Karla seemed a woman who was neither here nor there. But, if you asked her where her mind was, she would only shrug. Everything she did, was done with a certain detachment. When she looked at you it was never eye to eye. It was as though she was looking at someone or something just behind you, and off to one side. And she seemed always just out of arm's reach. We roomed together in a small apartment a few blocks away from campus. It worked for both of us, in a financial sense, and that was about all there was in this relationship I had with her. Actually, relationship would be too strong a word. We co-existed. I knew about as much about her as I would know about a random stranger passing on the street below. The more removed she was, the more determined I was to know her. I even would poke around in her room while she was out, looking for clues. Not a very nice thing to do. But it was beginning to drive me crazy. Especially when we both were there in the apartment together, with nothing shared other than the air we breathed, and the walls oround us.
I worked on ways to provoke interaction. For the most part, these were ridiculous failures. Like today, when I came in, she was sitting in the easy chair reading a book. "Hi, what are you reading?" "A book." she said, without looking up. "I was thinking about making a quiche." I said. " Do you like quiche?" She nodded yes, and turned a page in her book. "OK, then, I'll get started on it." I said, as I walked toward the kitchen. I felt like pulling my hair out...or hers. Well, no that wouldn't be right. She can't help the way she is, I guess. But, why? It was beginning to create a certain bitterness in me that I didn't want to feel. So, I would try to make lists of things I liked about her. She always is on time with her share of the rent and the utility bills. She doesn't just leave it up to me to take the garbage out. She does her part in keeping the place clean. I don't think she has ever even looked into my room. I wished she would. Then I wouldn't feel so bad about how often I go into hers when she isn't around. I do like red heads, and she has red hair. So, that's another thing I like. And 'Karla', I like that name. It has an air of mystery about it somehow.
One day, I was sitting on the side of her bed looking around. There was little there to tell me much about her. I laid my head back on her pillow. If she walked in right now, she would probably turn around and leave and never come back. Maybe that would be for the better. That's when I felt it. A small book under her pillow. I pulled it out. It was a journal. I opened it slowly, almost afraid to look. The first page said simply, 'The Story of Karla'. On the second page was a quote:
"I find myself regarding existence as though from beyond the tomb, from another world; all is strange to me; I am, as it were, outside my own body and individuality; I am depersonalized, detached, cut adrift. Is this madness?"
-Henri Frederic Arniel, 1880
I had goosebumps up and down my arms. I turned the page. It had a date some two months back, and then in the middle of the page, a big check mark. The next page was the same, and the next, and the next, and so on, all the way up to the present day. The remaining pages were blank. I took a deep breath and let it slowly out, as I slid the book back under her pillow and left.
I walked down to the pub and got a draft and sat down by a window, lost in thought. Jake and Kenny strolled in. Two guys I played b-ball with occasionally. "Joey!", Kenny shouted slapping me on the back. They got a couple of beers and pulled up to the table. "What's been goin' on, man." Jake said, as we clinked glasses. "Not much, really." I said. Kenny chuckled, "Yeh, ever since our Joey here moved in with that hot chick, we haven't seen him on the courts lately. Did you notice that, Jake?" "Now that you mention, it, you're right" Jake said. "Come on, Joey, give us the juicy details. What's Karla like? I'll bet she's hot in bed, am I right?" He clicked glasses with Kenny. "There's not much to tell, really." I said with a shrug. "OH! Oh!" Kenny said, pointing out the window. "Check...it...OUT!" I looked out the window. It was Karla across the street walking down the sidewalk toward the apartment. "OK, Joey", Jake said, "Let's have it. What's she like? I mean, really? You can't tell me you don't have your hands all over that!" I shook my head, "No, It's not like that." Oh, you are such a liar!" Kenny laughed. "OK, I'll tell you. I was in the record store the other day, and I saw this poster. And I thought, 'That's Karla to a T." "What poster?" Kenny asked. It was a poster of a woman, and she's sorta staring off at the sky. And beneath it, it said, "Please don't interrupt me, while I am trying to ignore you." Jake made a face. "Ooh, that's cold, man! You mean Karla's a bitch?" "I shook my head no. "No, she's not a bitch." "What then?" Kenny asked. "Is she into girls?" "No." I said. "Look, guys, I really don't want to talk about it right now." I got up to leave. "You are doin' her, aren't you? You are!" Jake laughed. I shook my head no, and left.
When I walked into the apartment, I was both surprised and relieved she wasn't there. I could tell she had been there, though. I could smell her recent presence in the air. I walked into her room, and once again, looked at her journal. The past few days looked like all the pages before. A big check mark in the middle of the page. And then, I came to today's entry. It said, "Have you learned anything yet?" I didn't know if she was talking to herself, or whether she was on to me. Down at the bottom of the page were more words written upside down. I turned the book upside down. It was a quote, once again. "I now realized the Importance of Being Earnest" - Oscar Wilde.
I found myself in love with her, even though, I didn't know who she was.
Karla sat in her room with her hands over her ears. Today was her 10th birthday, and her parents were downstairs fighting again. Shouting horrible things at one another. She turned on her radio and increased the volume, hoping to drown them out. But it was no use. She ran down the stairs and screamed at them. "Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!" Her father glared at her with an expression that seemed monstrous and frightening. She ran back to her room and shut the door, and threw herself on the bed covering her face with the pillow trying to stop her sudden sobs. After awhile the shouting and screaming stopped. She sat up and turned the radio off and listened for any sign of them downstairs. Nothing. Then the jarring sound of the front door slamming shut. Then just complete and utter silence. She stared down at her lap, wringing her hands nervously. She heard her father revving his truck in the driveway. Then the squeal of tires. Then nothing. She stood and went to her door and slowly opened it. "Mommy?" she called in a small voice. Again, from the top of the stairs. "Mommy?" She took the steps slowly, one hand on the wall, listening intently. "Mommy?", she called as she stepped slowly into the hallway. "Mommy?" She peeked timidly into the living room. Her mother was lying on the couch. "Mommy?" She walked across the room slowly. Her mother's eyes were wide open and unblinking. Her neck seemed a livid red. Her head cocked at a grotesque angle. She sat down in the big rocking chair near the fireplace. The chair her mother used to rock her to sleep in when she was little. She stared at the charred blackened litter of burnt wood. There hadn't been any fires there for quite awhile. She gathered some kindling and a cord of wood and made a fire and stared at it for some time. She got a blanket from the closet and covered her mother with it, then picked up the phone. She called 911. "What is the emergency?" a voice said. "It's not actually an emergency." she said quietly, "My mother is dead. Yes, I'm sure. My daddy killed her. No, I don't know where he is. He left." She sat back down in the rocker and stared at the fire.
Somehow, my impatience about Karla lessened, along with my expectations that we could possibly become friends, or even more. I knew there must be something deep-seated that led to her coldness. Not even a beautiful sunny Summer day could melt it. I felt an ambiguous empathy for her, but hadn't a clue how to help her out of some dark hole she had fallen into. One day as I came into the apartment, I heard her crying in her room. In a way, I was almost happy to hear it. It was the first display of emotions I had known her to express. I stood by her door and listened for a minute, then said, "Karla, are you OK?" She didn't answer, but it seemed her crying diminished and softened. "Are you OK?" I repeated. "Not really." she replied. "Can I come in?" "I guess so." she replied. I opened the door and looked at her sitting on the side of her bed holding a box of tissues. I didn't say anything as she wiped her eyes and blew her nose. "What's wrong?" "I don't know. I was just remembering something." she said. "Something sad, I guess?" She nodded and looked up at me. "I wish I was brave like you." she said. "Like me? I'm not so brave." "Yes you are. You are really brave." she said. "What makes you think I am brave? Can I sit down?" She nodded. "Because you are always nice to people." she said. "I don't know," I said, "I don't think it takes much courage to just be nice to people." "For me, it does." she said. "For me it's a scary thing." "Why is it scary, Karla?" I asked in a soft voice. "Because, when you are nice to people, then they like you. And when they like you, you like them back. And then one day, they are gone." "Did you lose somebody, Karla? Somebody you really cared about?" She put her face in her hands and nodded as she began to cry again. I put my hand lightly on her back as I handed her the tissues. I couldn't believe she was letting me get this close to her. I gently rubbed my hand across her back. "You don't have to tell me, Karla. But, I would like it if you would." Then she began to talk. It had all begun when she was 10 years old. As she told me the horrific details, I realized she was telling me as well, about her fear of ever being close to anyone again. She suddenly burst into tears again. I put my arm around her and she turned to me burying her face against my chest. I held her for a long time like that as she let it out. "Karla, can you see how brave you are right now? To allow yourself to re-live that day? To tell someone else of that day? To mourn? To cry? To let me hold you?"
Things got better for Karla in the days that followed. I heard her laugh for the first time. We took on cooking as a hobby. And took turns cooking for each other. We held hands and leaned on each other watching tv in the evenings. We talked about all kinds of things. We kissed. We slept together. We took walks in the park. And we bought a puppy.
The End
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Fair Is Fair, Or Is It?
I didn't know if Nico was really her name or not. It wasn't the first time I have had a stranger at my door. In those days, a lot of people were on the road, either adventuring, or simply wandering and lost. Or sometimes running away from something, or somebody. There seemed to be some word of mouth that passed amongst them as their journeys led them each into chance encounters with one another. Places to avoid. Places to go. Places that were dangerous. Places that were safe. Where to eat. Where to sleep. When Nico showed up on my doorstep, she said that 'Bo' had sent her. "Bo sent you?", I repeated. She nodded, "That's what he said I should say. That Bo sent me. Is it ok?" "Yeh, it's ok. Come on in." She set her backpack down and followed me into the front room. When I turned to look at her, I saw for the first time, how pale and frail looking she was. How puffy and dark she was around her eyes. I smiled at her. "I get the feeling that you could probably use a good night's sleep, right about now." She nodded, then seemed to sway a bit and fell crashing to the floor in a dead faint. "Oh hell, Bo!" I said, as I bent to pick her up. I carried her into Allison's room. Allison wouldn't be back for awhile. She was in the county jail on charges of possession with intent to sell. I made Nico comfortable on Allison's bed. She came to, and opened her eyes just long enough to mumble 'thanks', and then drifted off to sleep.
I made my coffee that next morning after peeking into Allison's room to see if Nico was still there. She seemed comfortably asleep. I had no qualms about sifting through her backpack in search of clues as to who she was. I had my reasons. I had to know if she was on the run. If she was a fugitive, in any sense of that word. Harboring a criminal makes you an accomplice. I had almost gotten in trouble one time before. A guy who was running a phone scam on my phone. He disappeared suddenly and stuck me with a 300 dollar phone bill. And the next day, the police were at my door. That was the only time I had really been burned, but once is once too many. So who is Nico?
The contents of her backpack were a mess. Some jumble of wadded up clothes told me she was no adventurer, and had packed in a hurry. There was a well-worn little teddy bear about six inches tall and missing one eye, down in the middle of things. Finally, I came to what I was looking for. Identification. It was a driver's license sandwiched into the pages of a diary. Angela Jackson was her name. She was from a place I knew to be rather ritzy. A commuter suburb outside of Rochester, New York. She was 23 years old. She was some kind of runaway. I knew it before I even read the last five pages of her journal. I closed up her backpack and got ready for work. I went into her room and sat on the side of the bed, and quietly called her name several times. "Nico?" I shook her shoulder gently. " Nico?" She woke up with a startled scream. "It's ok, Nico, it's just me. I have to go to work now. There is food in the kitchen, so help yourself, ok?" She nodded, pulling the blanket around her.
"I've got a nice hot shower, you'll love it. I'm going to lock the door behind me when I leave, so nobody will bother you. It's a deadbolt, so here is the key, if you need to leave, ok?" I pressed the key into the palm of her hand. As I pulled Allison's bedroom door closed behind me, I did one last thing. I went into my room, and into my closet. I pulled down a .38 from a high shelf, and sat on my bed rubbing it down with an oily cloth. I put six rounds in the chamber, and laid it on my pillow.
There was no telling what I might come home to after work. But, I knew one thing for sure. Nico would look about the house. They all do. She would find the gun. She would know she could use it if she needed to. I usually listen to public radio on the way to work, but this morning I didn't. In my mind, I kept seeing those same recurring sentences on the last five pages of her diary. Just those same words over and over. "He's following me, I know. He will find me. And he will kill me." Over and over. And over.
I was pretty distracted at work all morning with this whole Nico thing. I glanced at the clock on my desk. It was 11AM. I decided to call the house and see if she was up. I felt a bit edgy when the phone rang and rang. Finally, she answered. "Sorry," she said, "I was just getting out of the shower. You were right, it is a really nice shower. I hope it's ok that I am wearing Allison's bathrobe." "Yeh, it's ok". I answered. "So, what are your plans now?" I asked, as I tried to imagine what Nico would look like in the baby blue chenille robe I had bought for Allison. "Ummm, I don't know really", she replied. "Is there a pharmacy within walking distance?" "Yes, when you go out the front door, go to the right. It's about two blocks down. Or, if you like, I can stop there for you on my way home." "Thanks, but no. It's personal stuff." she replied. "Be sure to lock the door behind you, when you leave," I said, "And leave the key under the doormat, if you are not coming back." Oh, I'll be back" she replied, "I mean, if it's ok?" "Yes, it's fine. I will pick up some groceries on the way home." "When will that be?" she asked. "I should be home by 3:30, or so." "OK, then" she said, "Bye".
I ordered lunch from the deli down the street, as I thumbed through my address file for Bo's cell phone number. I was happy to hear his voice. "Bo, It's DeLaney. Where are you?" "Right now", he replied, "I am standing here in ElDorado Canyon, outside of Boulder. Trying to scope out this climb. Have you ever climbed The Grand Giraffe? The overhang about two thirds up looks like a bitch." "Yeh, it is a bitch!" I answered. " If you traverse a little to the right, you might get beyond it. I don't know of anyone who's ever gone straight up over the top. Listen, Bo, I need to ask you something. Who is Nico?" "You mean 'Nico', with the Velvet Underground? That's the only Nico I ever heard about." "No, not that Nico. Some girl named Nico came to the house, said you sent her. What about Angela? Do you know an Angela?" "Well", Bo replied, "I did run into an Angela about three weeks ago at a breakfast joint in St. Louis when I was on my way out here." "What did she look like?" I asked. "She had sorta black hair, Really bone white complexion, a beauty mark on the side of her neck." "OK," I said. "Well, Angela now goes by Nico." "Look, Delaney," Bo said, "If you are talking about the same Angela I'm talking about, she's trouble brewing. She's got a killer boyfriend, and you can take that literally. He's a walking time bomb. If she's not in St.Louis, and is down in your part of the country calling herself Nico, I'd say she is running scared. And he would be the reason why." "I figured something like that was going on." I replied. "Listen, Bo....remember, traverse right, and then elbow up over the crux. "Gotcha" Bo said, and hung up. I took a deep breath and thought about what Bo had said as I ate my lunch. The more I thought about it, the more I felt I probably should head back to the house. I told the secretary I was gone for the day, and left.
I had an edgy feeling about all this as I drove toward my house. People come and go. For all I knew Nico may have already moved on. If she did, I wouldn't blame her. I wouldn't blame her if she pocketed my gun on the way out. As I approached the house I noticed a pick-up parked one door down. It had Missouri tags. I cruised slowly past my house. Damn! The front door was wide open. I could feel the adrenaline begin to pump. I took the corner and parked. I opened the trunk and dug around in my back pack. A 6" knife I used for gutting fish. I tucked it into my belt behind me. As I approached my house I didn't hear any noises coming out of it. I went to the side of the house and looked through the window. Nico was curled into a ball on the floor in the hallway, her hands to her face. "Nico, it's me." I shouted as I bounded up the front porch steps and into the house. I knelt down beside her and pulled her hands away from her face. The whole left side of her face was swollen out and turning shades of blue, black, and purple. "What happened?" I said, holding her as she began to cry. "I think he's dead." she said. "Who's dead, Nico?" She pointed with a shaky hand toward my bedroom. I stood slowly and reached for my knife. He was lying on the floor in a growing pool of blood, but he wasn't dead. He was moaning and reaching out toward the gun several feet away. I walked over and picked up the gun and looked down at him. His stare was icy cold. "I'm gonna kill that bitch, if it's the last thing I do", he muttered. "No, you're not." I said, as I wiped the gun clean of Nico's prints with my shirt tail. He clutched his stomach in pain. "You asshole"" he groaned. "You'll be next." I stood over him and pointed the gun at his chest. "I'm afraid, you've already done the last thing you're going to do." I shot him. I heard Nico scream and stepped out to look at her. "He's definitely dead now." I said. "Get your things together, Angela. I want you to go to this address. It's just three blocks away. It's Bo's apartment. Here's the key." I watched as she threw the robe across the bed. There was blood on it. "Take Allison's robe with you. Stay there until I come for you, will you do that?" She nodded. I picked up the telephone. "When you get to Bo's, see if you can get that blood out of the robe." I dialed 911. "Someone tried to break into my house. He broke the door down. I'm afraid I've killed him, but I am not sure. Please hurry." I walked out the door with Angela. I pointed to the alley across the street. "Take the alley over three streets. It's the first house on the left." I watched her run off down the alley, then turned and pulled the door closed and locked it. I glanced up and down the street. I could hear the sirens in the distance. I turned to the door and took several swift kicks at it near the lock and busted it open. I walked in. and took my knife and wiped my prints off it. I curled the dead man's fingers around the handle, then dropped it next to him. I walked wearily into the front room and sat down on the couch. Two men rushed down the hallway wheeling a stretcher. I laid the gun down beside me, and stared blankly into my bedroom at the lifeless body on the floor. I looked up at the officer as he wrote out the report. " So, what happened was that I was napping at the time. I heard the door being broken down. I got my gun out of the bedside table. He came at me with some kind of knife. I shot him twice. I don't have a clue who he is. Why would anyone want to kill me?" I watched as the second officer donned a white surgical glove and picked up the gun and bagged it. "Do you have a permit for this?" he said. I nodded. The first officer scratched his head. "There's a lot of loose nuts running around these days. Who knows why anybody kills anybody?" I shook my head and shrugged, as he turned and walked away.
I sat there in the sudden silence. The house seemed eerily empty. I walked slowly down the alley toward Bo's house. I wondered if Bo made it to the top of the Grand Giraffe. My mind was a puzzle with a few missing pieces. Who was Angela, really? And had I killed the right person? I guess I will soon find out.
Part Two
When I walked into Bo's house, there was the strong smell of pot burning. Angela had found Bo's stash. She was lying on the couch looking up at me with pupils like saucers. She sat up. "Did they believe you?" "I don't know,"I said, sitting down next to her. "I think so." "Look," I said turning to look at her, " I need you to talk to me. I just killed this man for you, do you get that?" She nodded, "Thanks a lot." So, you're not really Nico are you?" "No" she said. "You are Angela." "Sometimes." she replied. "Your driver's license says your name is Angela." "You mean the one in my diary?" "Yes, the one in your diary." She shrugged. "It's a fake." She bent down and rummaged in her backpack and pulled out a small black leather drawstring bag. She reached into it and handed me another driver's license. "Angel Montgomery?" I said, looking at it, and then at her. "This is a fake too, isn't it.?" "Yep." she nodded. I stood up and paced the room. I was beginning to get angry. "Look. I just killed a man. I need some answers." "I don't have a real name!" she shouted. I stopped and looked at her, shaking my head in disbelief. "OK. This has got to stop!", I shouted back. She sat back on the couch and looked at me. "I don't have a real name." she repeated in a quiet voice. "No, no, no, no, NO!" I shouted. "Will you just listen?" she said. I sat down at the kitchen table and drummed my fingers on it impatiently. "I don't have a real name. I never knew who my real parents were. Nobody knew. Some family adopted me and made up a name for me. They didn't even give me their own last name. They named me Melody Finch. I grew up believing a fake story they told me about how my parents were killed in a car accident shortly after I was born. When I got older, I researched the things they told me. None of it was true." She got up and walked over toward me unfolding a piece of paper. "Then I found this." she said, laying it down in front of me. I picked it up and looked at it. It was a birth certificate dated 1986. It was from a hospital in Rochester, New York. "Baby Doe" "Parents Unknown". "Is this fake?" I said. "No. I would tell you if it was. This is the fake one." she said, handing me another paper. "The people who adopted me had it drawn up." She walked back to the couch and sat down. "Anyway, I decided that since I didn't have a real name, I might as well make up my own." "So, now you are Angela." I said, turning to look over at her. "Actually," she said, I kinda like being Nico."
"So, now tell me who it was that I just killed?" I said, walking over to the window and staring blankly out at a grey sky. "Bo told me you had a dangerous boy friend." "Ummm, well...that's not exactly true...." she said. I turned to look at her. "Well, what IS exactly true, Nico? Who did I just kill?"
Bo wandered into a little eatery in St.Louis called the "Over Easy Cafe" He'd been driving all night, on his way to meet some climbing buddies in the Rockies. It was an old timey looking greasy spoon, the kind of place he liked. He was buff and in his prime. So, it would be two over easy, some really fat bacon, grits, hash browns and some silver dollar pancakes. There was no doubt he would work all that off in a day or two scaling the walls of El Dorado Canyon. The girl behind the counter was a real cutie. And she kept refilling his coffee cup after every other sip. In fact, it was almost annoying. But it appeared to be some kind of restlessness she had, like she needed things to do. She kept wiping the counter top too, even though it was spotless. The little pin on her apron top said 'Angela'. "Say, Angela," Bo said, gesturing to her with a nod of his head. "Are you from around here?" She shook her head. "Up state New York, actually." "So, what brought you to St. Louis?" "Umm, I wonder that myself, sometimes..." she replied, her voice trailing off as she glanced up at another customer coming into the place. She looked back at Bo.. "Could you please keep talking to me?" she said in a quiet voice. Bo glanced over at the man who was taking a seat at one of the tables. He was intently staring at her. "Are you worried about something?" Bo asked. "SomeONE, you might say", she said quietly. "And worried doesn't begin to say it." "Maybe you need to get out of town for awhile." Bo said, glancing over his shoulder at the man who was still sitting there staring at her. Bo took a small notebook out of his shirt pocket and began to write as Angela walked over to the man. He watched as the man grabbed Angela's wrist and she jerked it away. He laid down the piece of paper along with a generous tip, and walked out.
Nico fumbled into her little black bag again. "I still have the note." she said. I unfolded it and read it aloud. "Look, I don't know exactly what the problem is, but if you need to get out of town, remember this address. Tell him Bo sent you." I sat down on the couch next to her. I looked at her bruised face. It seemed even more swollen and darker in color. "I may need to get you to a doctor." I said. She shook her head no. I went over to the refrigerator and got out an ice tray and dumped it into a kitchen towel and brought it to her. "Keep this on your face for awhile." I glanced down at the note again. "So, what was the problem actually?" I asked her. "The guy was a creep, that's what." she replied. "He had some thing about me. Said I looked like Lana Turner, some movie star. He was always wanting me to go out with him. And then he started following me around. And when he would come into the cafe, he would say things that sounded threatening. That if I didn't go out with him, I might come to regret it. "Did he ever actually try to harm you?" "I'm getting to that." Nico replied. "One day after work, I was walking home, and he appeared out of nowhere and grabbed my arm."
"Let go of me!," Angela shouted, trying to pull away from him. "Now, now. Don't play hard to get." he said, pulling her toward his car. "I just want to take you for a ride." She brought a knee up suddenly to his groin, bowling him over. "Now, you've done it, bitch." he shouted. She fumbled in her bag for the pepper spray and shot it at his face as he lunged at her.
"So, I went right away to the police station." Nico said, looking over at me. "I ran all the way there. They took down his description and asked if there were any witnesses. When, I said I didn't think so, they sorta shrugged. They said they would send a car out to look for him, but it would likely come down to his word against mine. And then, one guy says, "You know, young couples get into quarrels now and then. And sometimes, things get out of hand." Nico stood up and angrily threw the ice pack down sending ice cubes scattering across the floor.. "I couldn't believe that guy! I had just told them I didn't even know the guy's name!" "So what happened next, Nico?" I said. "What happened next? Nothing happened next. They couldn't find him. I couldn't sleep all night. I was scared out of my mind. So, who shows up at the cafe next morning? The same asshole, of course. And he sits down at the same table and just stares at me. That's when I was talking to Bo. So, I went over to his table. I told him that if he didn't leave, I was going to call the police and get a restraining order put on him. As I walked away from him, he said that if I did, it would be the last thing I ever did. Bo had left. I picked up his dishes and found the note he left. I walked back into the kitchen, read the note, and walked straight out the back door. I ran home, packed a bag, and you know the rest of the story."
I sat quietly and watched Nico picking up the pieces of melting ice from the floor. "He had it coming." she said, looking over at me. I nodded.
I stayed with Nico in Bo's apartment. The police closed the case. They used words like 'breaking and entering, attempted assault with a deadly weapon. Self defense. Justifiable homicide.' Once Nico was feeling back on her feet and her face was returning to normal, I bought her a bus ticket to Rochester, New York. She writes now and then. She said she had changed her name again. Now she was April. Such a peculiar girl. We do have one thing in common. We both killed the same man. He would probably have bled to death from the bullet Nico gave him. My bullet simply put him out of his misery. That's one way to look at it, I suppose. In any case, I would have killed him anyway. She said she wants to come visit me sometime. I wrote to tell her that I thought April was the perfect name for her, and that she should stick with it. I enclosed another bus ticket.
Last night I tossed and turned for a long time. It seemed I had just fallen asleep only to be awakened by someone knocking insistently on my door. I woke up this morning with April in my arms. At least, I think that's what her name is.
The End
I made my coffee that next morning after peeking into Allison's room to see if Nico was still there. She seemed comfortably asleep. I had no qualms about sifting through her backpack in search of clues as to who she was. I had my reasons. I had to know if she was on the run. If she was a fugitive, in any sense of that word. Harboring a criminal makes you an accomplice. I had almost gotten in trouble one time before. A guy who was running a phone scam on my phone. He disappeared suddenly and stuck me with a 300 dollar phone bill. And the next day, the police were at my door. That was the only time I had really been burned, but once is once too many. So who is Nico?
The contents of her backpack were a mess. Some jumble of wadded up clothes told me she was no adventurer, and had packed in a hurry. There was a well-worn little teddy bear about six inches tall and missing one eye, down in the middle of things. Finally, I came to what I was looking for. Identification. It was a driver's license sandwiched into the pages of a diary. Angela Jackson was her name. She was from a place I knew to be rather ritzy. A commuter suburb outside of Rochester, New York. She was 23 years old. She was some kind of runaway. I knew it before I even read the last five pages of her journal. I closed up her backpack and got ready for work. I went into her room and sat on the side of the bed, and quietly called her name several times. "Nico?" I shook her shoulder gently. " Nico?" She woke up with a startled scream. "It's ok, Nico, it's just me. I have to go to work now. There is food in the kitchen, so help yourself, ok?" She nodded, pulling the blanket around her.
"I've got a nice hot shower, you'll love it. I'm going to lock the door behind me when I leave, so nobody will bother you. It's a deadbolt, so here is the key, if you need to leave, ok?" I pressed the key into the palm of her hand. As I pulled Allison's bedroom door closed behind me, I did one last thing. I went into my room, and into my closet. I pulled down a .38 from a high shelf, and sat on my bed rubbing it down with an oily cloth. I put six rounds in the chamber, and laid it on my pillow.
There was no telling what I might come home to after work. But, I knew one thing for sure. Nico would look about the house. They all do. She would find the gun. She would know she could use it if she needed to. I usually listen to public radio on the way to work, but this morning I didn't. In my mind, I kept seeing those same recurring sentences on the last five pages of her diary. Just those same words over and over. "He's following me, I know. He will find me. And he will kill me." Over and over. And over.
I was pretty distracted at work all morning with this whole Nico thing. I glanced at the clock on my desk. It was 11AM. I decided to call the house and see if she was up. I felt a bit edgy when the phone rang and rang. Finally, she answered. "Sorry," she said, "I was just getting out of the shower. You were right, it is a really nice shower. I hope it's ok that I am wearing Allison's bathrobe." "Yeh, it's ok". I answered. "So, what are your plans now?" I asked, as I tried to imagine what Nico would look like in the baby blue chenille robe I had bought for Allison. "Ummm, I don't know really", she replied. "Is there a pharmacy within walking distance?" "Yes, when you go out the front door, go to the right. It's about two blocks down. Or, if you like, I can stop there for you on my way home." "Thanks, but no. It's personal stuff." she replied. "Be sure to lock the door behind you, when you leave," I said, "And leave the key under the doormat, if you are not coming back." Oh, I'll be back" she replied, "I mean, if it's ok?" "Yes, it's fine. I will pick up some groceries on the way home." "When will that be?" she asked. "I should be home by 3:30, or so." "OK, then" she said, "Bye".
I ordered lunch from the deli down the street, as I thumbed through my address file for Bo's cell phone number. I was happy to hear his voice. "Bo, It's DeLaney. Where are you?" "Right now", he replied, "I am standing here in ElDorado Canyon, outside of Boulder. Trying to scope out this climb. Have you ever climbed The Grand Giraffe? The overhang about two thirds up looks like a bitch." "Yeh, it is a bitch!" I answered. " If you traverse a little to the right, you might get beyond it. I don't know of anyone who's ever gone straight up over the top. Listen, Bo, I need to ask you something. Who is Nico?" "You mean 'Nico', with the Velvet Underground? That's the only Nico I ever heard about." "No, not that Nico. Some girl named Nico came to the house, said you sent her. What about Angela? Do you know an Angela?" "Well", Bo replied, "I did run into an Angela about three weeks ago at a breakfast joint in St. Louis when I was on my way out here." "What did she look like?" I asked. "She had sorta black hair, Really bone white complexion, a beauty mark on the side of her neck." "OK," I said. "Well, Angela now goes by Nico." "Look, Delaney," Bo said, "If you are talking about the same Angela I'm talking about, she's trouble brewing. She's got a killer boyfriend, and you can take that literally. He's a walking time bomb. If she's not in St.Louis, and is down in your part of the country calling herself Nico, I'd say she is running scared. And he would be the reason why." "I figured something like that was going on." I replied. "Listen, Bo....remember, traverse right, and then elbow up over the crux. "Gotcha" Bo said, and hung up. I took a deep breath and thought about what Bo had said as I ate my lunch. The more I thought about it, the more I felt I probably should head back to the house. I told the secretary I was gone for the day, and left.
I had an edgy feeling about all this as I drove toward my house. People come and go. For all I knew Nico may have already moved on. If she did, I wouldn't blame her. I wouldn't blame her if she pocketed my gun on the way out. As I approached the house I noticed a pick-up parked one door down. It had Missouri tags. I cruised slowly past my house. Damn! The front door was wide open. I could feel the adrenaline begin to pump. I took the corner and parked. I opened the trunk and dug around in my back pack. A 6" knife I used for gutting fish. I tucked it into my belt behind me. As I approached my house I didn't hear any noises coming out of it. I went to the side of the house and looked through the window. Nico was curled into a ball on the floor in the hallway, her hands to her face. "Nico, it's me." I shouted as I bounded up the front porch steps and into the house. I knelt down beside her and pulled her hands away from her face. The whole left side of her face was swollen out and turning shades of blue, black, and purple. "What happened?" I said, holding her as she began to cry. "I think he's dead." she said. "Who's dead, Nico?" She pointed with a shaky hand toward my bedroom. I stood slowly and reached for my knife. He was lying on the floor in a growing pool of blood, but he wasn't dead. He was moaning and reaching out toward the gun several feet away. I walked over and picked up the gun and looked down at him. His stare was icy cold. "I'm gonna kill that bitch, if it's the last thing I do", he muttered. "No, you're not." I said, as I wiped the gun clean of Nico's prints with my shirt tail. He clutched his stomach in pain. "You asshole"" he groaned. "You'll be next." I stood over him and pointed the gun at his chest. "I'm afraid, you've already done the last thing you're going to do." I shot him. I heard Nico scream and stepped out to look at her. "He's definitely dead now." I said. "Get your things together, Angela. I want you to go to this address. It's just three blocks away. It's Bo's apartment. Here's the key." I watched as she threw the robe across the bed. There was blood on it. "Take Allison's robe with you. Stay there until I come for you, will you do that?" She nodded. I picked up the telephone. "When you get to Bo's, see if you can get that blood out of the robe." I dialed 911. "Someone tried to break into my house. He broke the door down. I'm afraid I've killed him, but I am not sure. Please hurry." I walked out the door with Angela. I pointed to the alley across the street. "Take the alley over three streets. It's the first house on the left." I watched her run off down the alley, then turned and pulled the door closed and locked it. I glanced up and down the street. I could hear the sirens in the distance. I turned to the door and took several swift kicks at it near the lock and busted it open. I walked in. and took my knife and wiped my prints off it. I curled the dead man's fingers around the handle, then dropped it next to him. I walked wearily into the front room and sat down on the couch. Two men rushed down the hallway wheeling a stretcher. I laid the gun down beside me, and stared blankly into my bedroom at the lifeless body on the floor. I looked up at the officer as he wrote out the report. " So, what happened was that I was napping at the time. I heard the door being broken down. I got my gun out of the bedside table. He came at me with some kind of knife. I shot him twice. I don't have a clue who he is. Why would anyone want to kill me?" I watched as the second officer donned a white surgical glove and picked up the gun and bagged it. "Do you have a permit for this?" he said. I nodded. The first officer scratched his head. "There's a lot of loose nuts running around these days. Who knows why anybody kills anybody?" I shook my head and shrugged, as he turned and walked away.
I sat there in the sudden silence. The house seemed eerily empty. I walked slowly down the alley toward Bo's house. I wondered if Bo made it to the top of the Grand Giraffe. My mind was a puzzle with a few missing pieces. Who was Angela, really? And had I killed the right person? I guess I will soon find out.
Part Two
When I walked into Bo's house, there was the strong smell of pot burning. Angela had found Bo's stash. She was lying on the couch looking up at me with pupils like saucers. She sat up. "Did they believe you?" "I don't know,"I said, sitting down next to her. "I think so." "Look," I said turning to look at her, " I need you to talk to me. I just killed this man for you, do you get that?" She nodded, "Thanks a lot." So, you're not really Nico are you?" "No" she said. "You are Angela." "Sometimes." she replied. "Your driver's license says your name is Angela." "You mean the one in my diary?" "Yes, the one in your diary." She shrugged. "It's a fake." She bent down and rummaged in her backpack and pulled out a small black leather drawstring bag. She reached into it and handed me another driver's license. "Angel Montgomery?" I said, looking at it, and then at her. "This is a fake too, isn't it.?" "Yep." she nodded. I stood up and paced the room. I was beginning to get angry. "Look. I just killed a man. I need some answers." "I don't have a real name!" she shouted. I stopped and looked at her, shaking my head in disbelief. "OK. This has got to stop!", I shouted back. She sat back on the couch and looked at me. "I don't have a real name." she repeated in a quiet voice. "No, no, no, no, NO!" I shouted. "Will you just listen?" she said. I sat down at the kitchen table and drummed my fingers on it impatiently. "I don't have a real name. I never knew who my real parents were. Nobody knew. Some family adopted me and made up a name for me. They didn't even give me their own last name. They named me Melody Finch. I grew up believing a fake story they told me about how my parents were killed in a car accident shortly after I was born. When I got older, I researched the things they told me. None of it was true." She got up and walked over toward me unfolding a piece of paper. "Then I found this." she said, laying it down in front of me. I picked it up and looked at it. It was a birth certificate dated 1986. It was from a hospital in Rochester, New York. "Baby Doe" "Parents Unknown". "Is this fake?" I said. "No. I would tell you if it was. This is the fake one." she said, handing me another paper. "The people who adopted me had it drawn up." She walked back to the couch and sat down. "Anyway, I decided that since I didn't have a real name, I might as well make up my own." "So, now you are Angela." I said, turning to look over at her. "Actually," she said, I kinda like being Nico."
"So, now tell me who it was that I just killed?" I said, walking over to the window and staring blankly out at a grey sky. "Bo told me you had a dangerous boy friend." "Ummm, well...that's not exactly true...." she said. I turned to look at her. "Well, what IS exactly true, Nico? Who did I just kill?"
Bo wandered into a little eatery in St.Louis called the "Over Easy Cafe" He'd been driving all night, on his way to meet some climbing buddies in the Rockies. It was an old timey looking greasy spoon, the kind of place he liked. He was buff and in his prime. So, it would be two over easy, some really fat bacon, grits, hash browns and some silver dollar pancakes. There was no doubt he would work all that off in a day or two scaling the walls of El Dorado Canyon. The girl behind the counter was a real cutie. And she kept refilling his coffee cup after every other sip. In fact, it was almost annoying. But it appeared to be some kind of restlessness she had, like she needed things to do. She kept wiping the counter top too, even though it was spotless. The little pin on her apron top said 'Angela'. "Say, Angela," Bo said, gesturing to her with a nod of his head. "Are you from around here?" She shook her head. "Up state New York, actually." "So, what brought you to St. Louis?" "Umm, I wonder that myself, sometimes..." she replied, her voice trailing off as she glanced up at another customer coming into the place. She looked back at Bo.. "Could you please keep talking to me?" she said in a quiet voice. Bo glanced over at the man who was taking a seat at one of the tables. He was intently staring at her. "Are you worried about something?" Bo asked. "SomeONE, you might say", she said quietly. "And worried doesn't begin to say it." "Maybe you need to get out of town for awhile." Bo said, glancing over his shoulder at the man who was still sitting there staring at her. Bo took a small notebook out of his shirt pocket and began to write as Angela walked over to the man. He watched as the man grabbed Angela's wrist and she jerked it away. He laid down the piece of paper along with a generous tip, and walked out.
Nico fumbled into her little black bag again. "I still have the note." she said. I unfolded it and read it aloud. "Look, I don't know exactly what the problem is, but if you need to get out of town, remember this address. Tell him Bo sent you." I sat down on the couch next to her. I looked at her bruised face. It seemed even more swollen and darker in color. "I may need to get you to a doctor." I said. She shook her head no. I went over to the refrigerator and got out an ice tray and dumped it into a kitchen towel and brought it to her. "Keep this on your face for awhile." I glanced down at the note again. "So, what was the problem actually?" I asked her. "The guy was a creep, that's what." she replied. "He had some thing about me. Said I looked like Lana Turner, some movie star. He was always wanting me to go out with him. And then he started following me around. And when he would come into the cafe, he would say things that sounded threatening. That if I didn't go out with him, I might come to regret it. "Did he ever actually try to harm you?" "I'm getting to that." Nico replied. "One day after work, I was walking home, and he appeared out of nowhere and grabbed my arm."
"Let go of me!," Angela shouted, trying to pull away from him. "Now, now. Don't play hard to get." he said, pulling her toward his car. "I just want to take you for a ride." She brought a knee up suddenly to his groin, bowling him over. "Now, you've done it, bitch." he shouted. She fumbled in her bag for the pepper spray and shot it at his face as he lunged at her.
"So, I went right away to the police station." Nico said, looking over at me. "I ran all the way there. They took down his description and asked if there were any witnesses. When, I said I didn't think so, they sorta shrugged. They said they would send a car out to look for him, but it would likely come down to his word against mine. And then, one guy says, "You know, young couples get into quarrels now and then. And sometimes, things get out of hand." Nico stood up and angrily threw the ice pack down sending ice cubes scattering across the floor.. "I couldn't believe that guy! I had just told them I didn't even know the guy's name!" "So what happened next, Nico?" I said. "What happened next? Nothing happened next. They couldn't find him. I couldn't sleep all night. I was scared out of my mind. So, who shows up at the cafe next morning? The same asshole, of course. And he sits down at the same table and just stares at me. That's when I was talking to Bo. So, I went over to his table. I told him that if he didn't leave, I was going to call the police and get a restraining order put on him. As I walked away from him, he said that if I did, it would be the last thing I ever did. Bo had left. I picked up his dishes and found the note he left. I walked back into the kitchen, read the note, and walked straight out the back door. I ran home, packed a bag, and you know the rest of the story."
I sat quietly and watched Nico picking up the pieces of melting ice from the floor. "He had it coming." she said, looking over at me. I nodded.
I stayed with Nico in Bo's apartment. The police closed the case. They used words like 'breaking and entering, attempted assault with a deadly weapon. Self defense. Justifiable homicide.' Once Nico was feeling back on her feet and her face was returning to normal, I bought her a bus ticket to Rochester, New York. She writes now and then. She said she had changed her name again. Now she was April. Such a peculiar girl. We do have one thing in common. We both killed the same man. He would probably have bled to death from the bullet Nico gave him. My bullet simply put him out of his misery. That's one way to look at it, I suppose. In any case, I would have killed him anyway. She said she wants to come visit me sometime. I wrote to tell her that I thought April was the perfect name for her, and that she should stick with it. I enclosed another bus ticket.
Last night I tossed and turned for a long time. It seemed I had just fallen asleep only to be awakened by someone knocking insistently on my door. I woke up this morning with April in my arms. At least, I think that's what her name is.
The End
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)