PALINDROME (15 page)

“That’s my whole life, everything I own.”

“Everything?” He nodded. I didn’t have to
probe any further, I understood. The car was his home. It was his
world and everything that belonged to him was housed within. Ax and
I had lived in a car for a while, but it was a long time ago and I
had forgotten that people sometimes have to resort to living that
way. Our situation had only lasted a short while. I wasn’t sure how
temporary it was for Batman.

“Are we heading straight over to Carli’s?” he
asked.

“I’d like to pick up some supplies first,
maybe get some things for the baby. I’ll fill up your gas tank.
Sound fair?”

“You don’t have to do that. We’re
family.”

I smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek. I
didn’t realize that I had a middle-aged homeless man for a
relative. “The Batmobile doesn’t run on love. I’m buying.”

“You’re buying?” He said showing surprise.
“When did you get so well-to-do? The State make a mistake and cut
you an extra welfare check?”

“Better. I ripped off
the man
.”

“
She-it
, I thought you was the only
honest person I knew. What did you do?”

“Can’t say. Got to keep it on the down-low,
you dig?”

Batman shook his head and smiled with his
lips pressed together. “Okay then, let’s get going. I’m going to
start calling you Al Capone.”

“Al Capone? I like that.”

“I thought you would.” We got into the car.
“So you’re not going to tell me how you scored all this money?”

“Maybe one day.”

“That’s cool. Does that make me your getaway
driver?”

“Don’t get carried away. We’re on our way to
pick up baby supplies and groceries. We’re not pulling off the
Brink’s Job.”

Carli was lit up by the time we got to her
trailer. She was sitting on a lawn chair outside the trailer with
little Mark in her lap and a Miller pressed to her lips. Her nose
and cheeks were bright red. I handed Batman the bag of groceries
and snatched Mark from Carli’s lap.

“There’s my boy,” I said, playing with Mark
and bouncing him in my arms. He smiled and then gushed like babies
do. “Drinking with an infant in your lap? Are you insane?”

“I only had one,” Carli said.

Batman laughed. “One can or one case?”

“Screw you,” she replied and drained the
balance of the beer. She looked at the bag of groceries that Batman
was carrying. “You went shopping? Why? You know I get food from
Meals on Wheels.”

“I’m getting a little tired of doctoring the
chicken parts. You know what I mean? I’m going to bake a
meatloaf.”

“Meatloaf?” Carli said. “Oh, I love meatloaf.
You make it good?”

“To die for.”

“Oh, I love you,” Carli said as she rose from
the lawn chair. She put her arms around my neck and gave me a hug
and kiss. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

“Jesus, Carli, you smell like a brewery. You
can’t drink like that around the baby.”

“I’m always around the baby. What am I
supposed to do?”

“Stop drinking,” Batman protested. “Stop
drinking, or social services will take your baby away.”

“The hell with that; no one’s taking my
baby,” Carli swore. “Let’s go inside, damn it. I need something to
pick on.”

I turned to Batman. “You had better be
staying for dinner.”

“You’ve done twisted my arm, girl,” he
replied. “You got any collard greens to go with that yummy
meatloaf?”

“Brussel sprouts.”

Batman wrinkled his nose. “The hell is
that?”

“Tiny little cabbages, I bake them with
shallots. You’ll love it.”

Batman bunched his lips and shook his head
with approval. “Pretty fancy, we having pecan pie for desert?”

“Yeah right.” I boosted Mark up onto my
shoulder. I reached into the grocery bag with my free hand and
showed him a tub of Kozy Shack rice pudding. “Nothing but the best,
Batman; all we need is three spoons, and we’re in business.”

Batman laughed. “A meal fit for a king.”

“Or a super hero,” I said.

Carli tossed her empty bottle into the
trashcan and grabbed the rice pudding. “Now this looks good.” She
began walking into the trailer and noticed that we weren’t
following. “What are you waiting for?” She hoisted the tub of rice
pudding. “Dinner is served.” She disappeared into the trailer.

I looked at Batman. “No point arguing.”

Twenty-five: Home Sweet Home

The
condo was pitch black when Batman
pulled to a stop outside my front door.

“Looks like you’ve got a bulb out,” he said.
He threw the gearshift into Park and settled back in the driver’s
seat. Batman’s poor posture made his belly look huge. He noticed it
too and rubbed his paunch. “That was one kick-ass meatloaf. Where’d
you learn to cook like that?”

“The secret is in the ketchup. You smother
the chop meat with Heinz Ketchup and you’ve got a winner. You don’t
have to go to cooking school to make a decent meatloaf.”

“Damn, it was tasty.” He covered his mouth
but was unable to suppress a hearty belch. “Sorry. So you think
Carli’s going to be okay?”

“I say a prayer for her every night. She
doesn’t exactly have a formula for success. She’s got the little
one, a deadbeat husband, no money, and no self-respect.”

Batman pondered my remark for a moment. “At
least she had a good meal tonight. It’s the little things that
matter the most.”

“Got to help where we can. We’re both one
step closer to heaven tonight. Thanks for the ride.” I grabbed my
bag and opened the car door.

“See you around, Lexa.”

“You bet. Goodnight.”

I closed the car door and stood in the
moonlight as Batman pulled away. It was one of those ethereal
nights when everything feels just right. The air was mild, and the
gentle breeze carried the aroma of freshly clipped grass. I had
Carli and Mark in my head and Emilio in my heart. My endorphins
were running wild. I stood in the same spot for a few minutes,
savoring the night and allowing the breeze to play against my bare
arms. I felt happier than I had in a long time and began to
fantasize about the rest of the summer. I thought about the beach
and spending time with Emilio. I wanted to be with him, to dance
and laugh and do all those things normal people do. I felt my
cheekbones rise, and then in the next instant, my conscience reared
its ugly little head. Emilio didn’t even know which girl he was
dating. Lexa didn’t exist to him. It was Allie that he had spent
the weekend with. It was Allie’s hand that he held and Allie’s feet
that he rubbed when they ached. But Lexa and Allie were one and the
same. I may have been Allie on the outside, but I was Lexa on the
inside. I was the one laughing at his jokes and blushing when
Emilio’s charm brought it out. It was
me
beneath the veneer.
It was my thoughts and emotions beneath Allie’s skin and muscles.
Christ, I just wanted to be happy, but now that I had started down
this road could I ever go back? Did Lexa have a chance, or was I to
remain Allie forever?

All that grass in the air made me sneeze, and
I became bored with the evening breeze. I turned and walked to the
front door. As I put my key in the lock, the lamp alongside the
door sputtered on and off. I twisted the bulb, and it stayed on. It
was just loose.

“I’m home.” A light was on in the back of the
condo where the bedrooms were located. “Ax, I’m home.” I was
surprised when he didn’t answer. Ax was not known for robust
greetings, but a simple acknowledgment was well within my brother’s
repertoire. “Yo, are you home?” I put my bag and keys down on the
table and walked toward the bedrooms. I had just passed through the
kitchen when I was attacked. Someone grabbed me from behind and
crushed me in their grip. A hand covered my mouth. I struggled to
get free, but my attacker was very strong. My efforts yielded no
results. I felt my heart pound nervously in my chest as panic shot
through me.

“Just settle down,” my attacker said. It was
a man’s voice. That was all I knew.

I was getting frantic. I searched for a
solution. I tried to visualize Ax. I tried to envision his muscular
frame. I needed his strength to fight free, but I was in too much
of a panic to concentrate.
Calm down,
I told myself.
Calm
down. Focus.
I was not Ax. I was not a martial artist, but I
tried to remember some of the things he had taught me. I jammed my
elbow into my attacker’s gut with all the force I could muster. I
heard a muffled gasp, and then I stepped back, bringing all of my
weight down on his foot.

“Bitch!” he howled.

I broke free, but it was only for an instant.
He quickly recovered and pounced on me. The two of us landed in a
heap on the floor.

“Hey, douchebag, how about a little help?” he
called.

Christ, who was he calling out to? He was on
top of me, pinning me to the floor. I could see his face clearly.
He had pale skin, but his face was flush from exertion. I didn’t
recognize him. He didn’t seem even remotely familiar. “Get off me!
Who the hell are you?” I screamed, and he smacked me across the
face.

“Shut up or I’ll knock your teeth out,” he
said. “Hey, asshole,” he called out again. “Get your ass in
here.”

I was struggling as best I could, squirming
and rocking back and forth on the floor, but he had his weight on
me, preventing me from breaking free. He straddled me and pinned my
arms to the floor.

I heard footsteps approaching. I saw a pair
of sneaker-clad feet. I looked up and saw that it was Keith Cooper.
I panicked. My breathing became rapid and shallow.
Oh, dear
God,
I thought,
he’s here to get even.

“Is this her?” the man holding me asked. “Is
this the one on the video?”

On the video?
What is he talking
about? What video?

Cooper stood over me. He was eating an apple.
I was surprised. He was staring at me blankly. There seemed to be
no connection. It certainly wasn’t the look I’d expect from someone
who had come to take his revenge.

“Yeah,” Cooper said, “Looks like her.” He
crunched down on the apple again, tearing out a huge chunk. I could
hear him pulverizing the crisp fruit with his back teeth. “She
looks like the girl from the bar. Tie her up.”

The girl from the bar?
He was not here
for Allie. He was here for Lexa, the girl whose drink he had
drugged at the Suds Shack. But what about the video that was
mentioned? What was that about?

“Can you put the apple down for two minutes
and help me. I’ve only got two hands,” the man holding me said.

“All right, chill out, Shawn. I’m on it,”
Cooper said with irritation in his voice.

“Great, use my name,” Shawn said. “Are you
some kind of retard?” Shawn was sweating like a pig. I noticed that
he had a nervous twitch. His pupils were dilated. I knew exactly
what that meant. He was a doper.

Keith Cooper walked back to the kitchen and
returned with a roll of duct tape. “Roll her over, and I’ll tape
her wrists,” he said.

I heard the sound of the tape being yanked
from the roll. “What do you want from me?” I pleaded. “What did I
do?”

“On second thought . . .” Cooper said. He
tore off a small piece of tape and pasted it over my mouth. “Who
wants to hear all that squawking? Roll her over. Pin her wrists,
and I’ll tape them.”

I tried to kick Shawn but couldn’t get enough
leverage to do any damage. I was face down in the next instant. I
fought to keep them from binding my wrists but couldn’t. They
pulled my feet together and taped my ankles. I felt Shawn let go of
me as soon as they had finished binding me.

“How’s that?” Shawn asked.

“Perfect!” The response did not come from
Keith Cooper. There was a new voice in the room, the voice of
another man. I rolled over to see a gun with a long silencer
pressed against Keith Cooper’s head. I screamed, but it was muted
and barely audible past my taped mouth. My eyes widened, and then I
heard a muffled discharge as the side of Keith’s skull exploded.
His body collapsed as if he was a puppet whose strings had been
severed.

Shawn was not quick. He was covered with the
discharge of Keith Cooper’s blood. He rose slowly and clumsily. The
shooter moved quickly. He stepped over Cooper’s body to get to
Shawn. “What the—” Shawn said. His mouth was still wide open with
surprise when the shooter forced the silenced muzzle of his gun
into Shawn’s mouth and pulled the trigger. Shawn fell backward. His
hollowed-out skull collided with my end table before his lifeless
body settled on the old carpet.

The shooter turned toward me. I was panicked,
panting, and struggling for breath. The man who had just murdered
two men in my living room had a menacing glint in his eyes as he
reached into his suit pocket and removed a loaded hypodermic
syringe. He uncapped it, purged the air, and stepped toward me.

Twenty-six: Where Am I?

I
heard muted voices in the distance
but I was unable to open my eyes. It felt like an eternity while I
struggled to wake up, but I was hopelessly groggy and could not
come to. I felt as if I were lost in a dream. Emilio was there. So
was Ax. The three of us were naked. We were swimming in tropical
waters and trying to make our way to the surface. I could see the
sun in the sky, its rays reaching down to us and bending as they
hit the water’s surface. A school of fluorescent, colored fish swam
around us as we continued to swim in place unable to make progress.
I turned from Ax to Emilio. Neither of them seemed concerned about
being unable to reach the surface. They both looked content. Small
bubbles of air escaped from their lips and noses and rose toward
the surface.

“You understand what I want?” Voices seemed
to move in and out. I would catch a few words and lose the rest.
“Follow my instructions.” I began to regain a sense of self. I was
lying flat on what was presumably a bed. It seemed as if I was
indoors. Memories began to flood back. I remembered being attacked
in my home and being wrestled to the floor. I remembered the
murders. I could see the flash of the gun as it ripped off Keith’s
head and then Shawn’s. I could feel myself fighting to wake up. I
was trembling in my sleep. I could feel beads of sweat break out
across my forehead. “She’s coming to. Remember what I said.” I
perceived the sound of footsteps, leather soles slapping against a
hard floor that sent a harsh echo with each step. I heard the
closing of a heavy door. I wondered if the murderer was standing
over me and if he was still holding his gun. What was going on? How
did it involve me? I bravely opened my eyes and squinted to blot
out the glare from an overhead lighting fixture. The fixture was
covered by a metal security housing to protect the glass. I found
it puzzling, but then, there was a lot that I had yet to
understand. It took a long moment until I recognized the clinical
setting: cinderblock walls were painted a tranquil shade of pale
green. The door that I had heard close was a metal security door
with a square observation panel. “Hey,” I called out in a woozy
voice. I couldn’t lift my head but was aware of someone’s presence
in the room. “Hey, where am I?” A woman walked over to where I was
in bed. Her hair was back in a ponytail, and she was wearing
scrubs. “How did I get here?” I asked.