Extreme Elvin (21 page)

My feet made such a consistent dull
thump thumping
as I stepped from one stair to one landing to one stair to another over the series of obscenely thick and ornate carpets, the sound could just as well have been made by my heart. And with each step I hammered myself with the thought,
less, less, less, less.

There were a lot of steps between the roof and the basement of that house.

By the time I reached the sofa near the stereo near
Sinatra at The Sands,
and my friend Frankie, I knew I didn’t have a chance of
less.

It was already somehow
more.

“You gotta calm down,” Frank said, coming across to take the spot on the couch that Barbara had left. “You’re too heated up. Trust me, that doesn’t play well. Okay?” he asked, sounding really concerned and really interested in whether or not I got the message. It was as if I was slumped on my stool in the corner and he was saying “Keep your left up, use the jab, keep moving, or you’re gonna get creamed.”

“Okay,” I said. This was so hard for me. Harder than it was for Frankie, that’s for way sure. Frankie had the natural fighter’s instincts. I... I don’t know
what
I had.

I wondered, just then, what Mikie had. I could handle this a lot better if Mikie were here.

But he wasn’t, and I didn’t.

I bolted up out of my seat. Frank made one grab—I broke it like an open-field tackle. “I’m not chasing after you this time, El.”

“So don’t.”

It was a lot quicker this trip, since I knew the route so well. I burst once again out onto the roof, and broke up once again an innocent-looking telescoping party. Innocent-looking to the naked eye, that is. There were also now a bottle of champagne and three bubbling glasses on the ledge.

But no wishy-washy from me this time. I rushed up to Barbara, took her by the hand, and started leading her out.

“Hey Elvin, man, you’re getting less funny all the time,” Darth said. “I think you better go back—”

“Thanks for the swell time,” I said.

Barbara shook out of my hand—aggressively.

“What?” I asked. “Barbara, trust me, he’s really not a good guy.”

“What gives you the right...”

She was actually walking back—to Darth. Grinning Darth.

I followed. “Because... it’s the right thing... I’m doing what’s right,” I said, as if I had a clue anymore what was the right thing to do. As if I ever did.

Sally swung her telescope around to peer at me. “You’re embarrassing everybody, you know. Not to mention being a big fat dud.”

“I am not f—” I caught myself, realizing what was
not
the point here.

“But you
are
embarrassing me, Elvin,” Barbara stage-whispered.

I grabbed her hand once more. I pleaded. “Please... I’m sorry... I don’t know what I’m doing... we can talk. Can we. Come on, we can.”

I was cut short, literally, by a big hand yanking the back of my shirt. At the same time, Barbara broke free and bolted. Now she was gone and
I
was dangerously trapped on the roof with Darth.

“Now look what you did,” he said into my ear so Sally could not hear.

“No, no, you’re not going to fight, are you?” Sally said. “Darth, don’t—”

“Course not,” he said, then went back to my private lecture. “Now I’m left with just the one. But she comes with your highest recommendation. Don’t she?”

Has anyone ever deserved a thousand deaths more than me?

“Darth, really now,” Sally said, sensing the menace she could not quite hear. “That’s enough.” And she actually started marching our way. Saving me.

Darth let go and gave me a stiff slap on the back, playful-mean. “Okay, Sally,” he said. “Come, let’s go finish our drink.”

He took two steps toward the champagne.

“I never touched her!” I blurted.

He was back facing me. “What?”

“Never even held her hand!” I was walking backward, toward the door, but still, this was an improvement on my regular cowardice, no?

“What are you talking about?” Sally demanded.

“It’s not your business, Sally,” Darth said, walking slowly my way. “Just wait over by the telescopes.”

“Excuse me?” She was not too pleased, champagne or no champagne.

“I’m telling him you didn’t give me VD,” I said.

“Now?”
she shrieked. “Now? A little...
slow,
aren’t you, Elvin?”

“Really, you and I will settle this in a minute,” Darth said to her. “And
slow
won’t be a problem. Unless you like it that way.”

“Ah, no,” she answered knowingly, “I think we’re already settled.” She brushed past him, fairly banged into me on her way out, saying, “C’mon, you.”

Well, it wasn’t exactly sweeping me off my feet, but it would do. I followed her out.

“Fine,” Darth said, too cool to chase either one of us. “Go on. And Elvin”—he paused, I did not—“we’ll talk.”

A lot more chilling a sentence than it sounds.

I trotted down the stairs, first behind Sally, then beside her, then ahead of her. “I’m sorry,” I said.

“Ya,” she said.

“But, um...

“You better run if you want to catch her... and before I start thinking again about what you did.”

“Thanks,” I said, nervously. “I bet you’ll still be able to catch Frankie too.”

“Catch Frankie?” Sally laughed. “That’ll be a switch.”

She was waiting in front of the house for her cab.

“I can walk you,” I said.

“It’s dark,” she said.

“You’ll have me to protect you.”

“And who to protect me from you?”

“Come on, Barbara.” I was sweating, like the old days. I was pacing. My heart was no longer even beating, it was thrashing.

“Listen,” she said, “my dad gave me this money to take a cab in the event you started being weird. I think this qualifies.”

“But I’m really not... okay, I’m weird, sort of, in some ways, but not like—”

I stopped and gasped, nearly choked up, when a cab drew near. When it continued past, I went on, talking faster, aware of my chance speeding away. “I’m not a weirdo like that, really. It’s just that I... I couldn’t deal with... I didn’t know how to...”

Barbara stopped me, out of sympathy I guess because I must have been painful to watch. But she stopped me by grabbing my hand, which I took to be a good sign. You don’t take the hand of a menace, right?

“I know you’re not a weirdo like that, Elvin. I know that you are really sweet.”

I stared at her mouth as she talked. That probably wouldn’t help things, but I was powerless. The thickness of her lips.

“But I also don’t think you’re ready for this. You don’t know how to act. You make me nervous. Your reactions to everything are so
extreme.”

She stared at me now, and whatever she saw, I felt embarrassed because I knew I was just proving her point.

“Maybe another time,” she said. And this time I was almost relieved when the real cab pulled up. “You just like me too much,” she said before opening the car door. She shook her head, as if I would understand it then.

“I really never knew,” I said, “that liking somebody too much could ever be a bad thing.”

Then I opened her cab door for her.

“Awesome home training,” she said, slapping my hand in a nice way as she jumped in.

And as soon as the door was closed, I started running. Like a little kid. I ran and ran and ran and ran and ran home. No zigzags, no circles in the leaves. Straight line. Home.

M
A WAS SORT OF
hovering for me in the kitchen when I came home that night, though she was good enough to make like she wasn’t. When she saw me, she was bright and anxious and happy.

For about a second.

“Can I make you something to eat?” It was her way of feeling sorry for me in a way we could both live with.

Not tonight though. I shook my head and slunk away to my room.

And not the next morning either.

“Can I make you something to eat?” she asked, still hovering, still brandishing the comfort of food. She was still dressed the same way, royal-blue bathrobe over pale-green flannel nightgown, moccasin-style slippers. She could have stayed up all night, just parked herself in that kitchen, ready to take care of me in need like my own personal National Guard. More likely she just slept a little less than I did, and returned to her post.

She was the best. Which was just what I did not want then.

“No thanks,” I said. “I’m gonna be out with the dogs.”

That definitely raised an eyebrow. But that was all. Ma acted as if everything was like always, as I made my way across the kitchen. Then my brave-little-man routine caught up to me as I reached the refrigerator. I hadn’t eaten in what felt like days.

“Well,” I said coolly, “maybe I’ll take a little something with me.”

She watched me, with a relieved small smile, as I cracked the fridge open. I turned on her. “Could you look the other way for a minute?”

“Sorry,” she said.

As she turned, I scooped an armload. A whole pack of American cheese slices, a chunk of salami that must have weighed three quarters of a pound, and even Ma’s secret little can of chocolate creme ready frosting that she saves in the vegetable bin for watching sad movies. If the “calories from fat” section on the label didn’t read at least 80, I wasn’t having it.

“You can look now,” I said just as I was closing the back door.

I sat with the food, and the dogs, replaying it all just as if I had a commemorative tape of my foolishness. Barbara was so right. When was I going to grow up? I unwrapped the cheese. One slice for mama dog, one for Elvin dog. One half slice for Fusilli-face puppy, one half for Corkscrew, one for Elvin.

“Yo, don’t bogart that cheese,” came the voice from above. Above being the one-foot-by-one-foot square of windowless window on the back wall of the garage. I looked up to the spot to see Mikie’s pup, Tortellini, standing there on her two hind legs. Apparently with some help.

Tortellini filled the rotted wooden frame of the window nicely. She looked at me. That is, her face looked at me while her eyes looked at the ceiling. She pointed one paw at me while the other rested, humanlike, sort of on her hip.

“Hey you.”

“Shut up,” I said, and looked down to concentrate on my eating.

“No really”—desperate hoarse whisper now—“Pssst.”

And because I am a sap, I looked.

“Have a look at these,” the dog said. “Whoppers. They’re killing me. I hear you’ve got the
stuff.
Go on, slather me, slather me...”

And because I had very little else left, I laughed.

“Good. Now gimme a piece of cheese,” he said.

I got up and crossed the floor, and held out a slice of cheese, once the dog had gotten herself into a dining position. I leaned against the wall underneath the high window. With one hand I reached up and fed her the cheese. With the other I fed myself.

“Glad you’re here,” I said.

She turned her rear to me, but this time dog-greeting style. “Ah go on, gimme a sniff. You know you want to.”

“Mikie,” I said, sort of snapped, really.

“Damn, you knew it was me.”

“Mike. I got a whole new hurt problem this morning, Mike. And it feels worse than all the old ones combined.”

He waited.

“I’m not coming out of here today.” I said. “Not all day.”

“You want me coming in?” he asked.

“Maybe. What if I start to bawl? Then what would we do?”

“Hmm. Then you just grab up one of us ugly pups and hold it to your eyes. We’re just like onions, you know. We’ll make like that’s what it is, blame it on the dogs.”

I liked it. That would do.

“Well, am I coming in, or what, El?”

“Okay, but you have to promise not to make fun of me.”

A loud sigh.

“Don’t be stupid, Elvin. What else would I want to come in there
for?
Open the door, butt-boy.”

I opened the door.

Turn the page to continue reading from the Elvin Bishop Series

W
HO ARE YOU?

How do you figure?

How are you supposed to know anything, really, but specifically, how are you supposed to know who you are?

Who am I, and what am I, and if I think I have worked that out, what happens if something new falls into the gumbo and changes it? Does that make me something new entirely? Should I get new clothes?

I found my mother sitting on the footboard of my bed with her back to me. It was an unsettling thing to wake up to, and I knew she hadn’t come to tell me there were no blueberries for my pancakes.

“Elvin, have we ever talked about your father’s brother Alex?”

The simple questions are always the worst. If you think you know the answer right off, then for God’s sake dive into your laundry hamper. If you’re completely lost, you’re probably okay.

“Ya. The one who died in the plane crash, right?”

A brief, buzzy silence.

“Oh. So I did say that, then.”

Should a mother really have to check and see what she has told you in the past? I’d have to say no.

“Um, ya, you did say that.
Ma.
Because he died. In a plane crash.”