The Case
by Will Cefalo
I am one desperate fucker--desperate and drifting. Those two things have joined forces against me and pushed me to drink. That may be a bit of dodge when it comes to responsibility, but if I'm not drinking then I'm thinking, and that never seems to end anywhere useful. I get stuck in the palindrome of the mind. No woman, shit career, too much booze. Did the drinking cause me to lose the woman? Fuck up the career? Is it the result of dozens of years of things not turning out like "they" say things should?
Maybe I shouldn't do what I do? Maybe she was to blame?
Maybe I just like the taste.
Either way, here I am--drifting through life, drifting down the sidewalk in NYC. Let me tell you--anyone who thinks drifting is easy has probably never felt the self-doubt that brought it on to begin with or the doubt that keeps it going. I hope those self-assured fuckers never feel it 'cause it can crush you.
I figure I'm strong enough to handle the doubt. That, or I'm too small to be crushed. Maybe I'm just some tiny particle suspended in some solution as some unseen hand swirls the glass and I just spin and bob and ...drift.
I wish I knew what the solution was. From my angle, it's whiskey.
I crack an ironic smile as I weave down the sidewalk, kick aside a plastic cup, and ponder the implications. I'm so wrapped up in my own wit that I don't notice the car pull up next to me, or see me get out of that car, or even flinch as I come up from behind and sucker punch myself in the jaw.
I'm vaguely aware of a car door slamming and the dull ache my pulse causes in my head.
Give in buddy.
Why not? I haven't slept in days anyhow.
She was the way a woman was supposed to be: curvy, sexy, sarcastic, and strong. Depending on what was in your soul her eyes were caring or castrating. She tended bar in some dive and the old drunks loved her. She reminded them all of the daughters they had or wished they had. She was aware that they would all jump at the chance to get in her pants, daughter or not, if she showed the slightest weakness--so she never did.
Being guarded takes some energy though and after awhile it can wear you down. Worse, you can get used to being so closed that you'll let no one in. You won't even open if they crack first. It's a tough cycle and just the one I found her in when I walked in for a drink some time ago.
That memory fades into grey before my eyes crack open and let in too much light.
Something prods me.
I open one eye and see me a few inches from my face. I'm smiling.
Sorry about that crack to the jaw.
Mmm.
I don't feel much like talking yet.
It's just...I didn't think you'd believe me if I walked into your office asking you to take my case.
Oh yeah, by the way, I'm a detective.
I mean, if I just strolled in you'd think I was crazy right?
Actually bub, I'd be thinking I'm definitely the crazy one. Since I am here and obviously insane,; what can I do for you?
He sat there smiling at me, elbows on knees, fingertips touching, almost marveling at me. He looked better than I did--- more of a glow to him.
The fuck are you smiling at?
He looked a bit smugger too.
Have you ever realized that you can never truly see yourself? When you look in the mirror, you can only look at one part at a time. On film you're two- dimensional. Either way you never see your eyes looking back. You never see what others see. It's amazing. Have you ever thought about that?
Yeah buddy, whenever I have absolutely nothing better in the world to think about, that's what's on my mind. What the hell do you want?
He shook his head and smiled to himself. I didn't like the idea of being amusing to him.
I want you to take my case.
And what in the name of Christ would that be? What can I find that you can't fucking get yourself?
I want you to find the meaning of life for me.
Blink. Blink.
What the fuck is going on here? Fuck you, you little prick with all this esoteric
bullshit! I'm done! This is over and now I'm going to kick the shit out of you!
He stayed seated. I got up to do some shit kicking when his hand shot out and punched me in the balls. I swung and tried to get one in before I crumpled but he just sat back and I wound up missing completely. He was up fast with both hands around my throat, jerking me back to standing. He gave me a head butt and slammed me against the wall.
Listen you cheap fucker! You are going to find the meaning of life for me and you are going to do it like you've never done anything before--- fast, correct, and to the finish.
But I...
One hand let go of my neck long enough to punch me again.
Shut your fucking mouth and listen! You owe me asshole! You drove the one woman I loved away! If I can give her the meaning of life then maybe she'll come back to me.
Who...?
Another quick punch.
You know who dipshit! She was with me before you came on the scene and fucked it all up. So you are going to get the meaning of life. You will give it to me and I'll give it to her. If you don't get it to me--- I'll kill you.
I looked him in the eye. He wasn't kidding.
You'd better believe I'm not. You find it or you die.
For the second time in just a few short hours I drift off into unconsciousness. If this keeps keeps up I just might be well-rested.
She loved napping. Stretching and flexing her smooth body in some patch of sunlight was her heaven--- watching her was his. Eyes closed, lips parted,- hair a thousand shades of brown spread on a white pillowcase.
He remembered once when he told her how lucky he was to have her she said
luck had nothing to do with it.
He cherished that thought but now he was a different man.
Wait.
I thought.
Wait a second. It's not he's different man--- I'm a different man. I'm not him!
I...
The telephone rings rings me awake.
Yeah.
I hear you lookin' for it.
For what pal?
Life man.
Who is this?
You can call me G. If you want what I got, be at Blue Smoke in one hour.
He hung up.
So it's it's a date. I haven't haven't looked forward to something for some time--- it's it's a nice feeling. Sometimes I think I do things to end nice feelings before they're ready to leave. What I really think though is that I try to hold onto those good things so tightly I crush them.
Against my better judgment I call her.
I get her voicemail. I'll later obsess that she screened my call but for now I've got 8 seconds to think of what to say and how. I need to pique her interest, conjure up good times--- make her want me back.
Hey...hey beautiful! I've got...well I'm calling because just to see how you are.
Things are picking up, -big case, e- huge. I've got to find Life so it's important.
Take care.
I think that went well.
Blue smoke is dim. The faint smell of burning weed pulls me towards the back of the joint. There's another hallway in the back past the bathrooms and then more of the club.
I keep walking back and back and just when I'm thinking How fucking big can a New York City bar possibly be? I see him. Gotta be him. Some kind of dealer. He's a slight, light-skinned brother with dreads. He's seated at a table with an old ammo box sitting in front of him. You know, one of those old metal jobs with a flip top and a heavy duty latch? Well that's in front of him. To his right is a big fucking Latino. G points to the freak.
This is Angel. He does my will. You ever see a Latino that tall before?
I dunno. Maybe...
I can stomach a lot of crap, - but being white and all, but- I get weird talking race when I'm not the majority.
...sure, yeah.
He flashes a charming smile. Good teeth. We sit there a bit, just staring. I'm getting warm and he is enjoying each uncomfortable twitch I make. I can't blame him. He finally leans forward and pushes the ammo box towards me. - I naturally reach for it.
The money?
Huh?
I freeze mid-reach.
Did you bring money?
I start smoothing my hands over my pockets trying to explain.
We uh...didn't mention...money. I do have (throat clears) eight dollars.
It is very quiet in here.
Did you think I was going to hand over the fucking meaning of life for eight dollars?
Being said out loud like that did put a different spin on things.
You're kidding me man.
Nothing but silence on my end. I was feeling guilty, like a moral code had been broken or something.
Kill him Angel.
What the ...?
I lunge, grab the ammo box, turn to haul ass and feel Angel grab my free hand. I let him swing me around and crack the big bastard in the skull with metal box. I don't stay to see if he dropped. I grab some traction on sticky bar floor and crash out into bright sunlight.
Fast feet now man, - super fast. I'm running like I haven't in run in years. Unfortunately I haven't run in years and that specter becomes obvious after just a couple blocks. I'm also in lower Manhattan where the streets have actual names so I don't know where I am or where I should be booking to. I send up a quick prayer to God and Jesus and the Great Cosmic Space Pig that if one of them can get me out of this I'll spend less time drinking home alone and more time drinking down here so I'll be able to find my way around.
I chance a glance behind me and see Angel roaring up the street. The blood on the side of his head is also running. It's not moving as quickly as he is but fast enough to have colored his left shoulder burgundy. He appears upset.
I renew my efforts and marvel that a guy easily 60 lbs. heavier than me is also quite a bit faster. On the plus side I've got a good fear in my legs. On the growing list of minuses I'm carrying the meaning of life, which with the box, adds about seven pounds to me.
Some metal sidewalk grating sends me sliding as I round a corner. I hit hard and the meaning of life skids to a halt at the base of a garbage can.
I hope I didn't break it.
With the box back in my arms I follow the grating and sure enough spot the subway entrance 2 blocks up. It's gonna be close. A quick bark of Youu're a dead fucker!inspires me to run toward the sound of an approaching train.
My feet don't slow down when I reach the entrance so I only touch 3 of the dozen steps to the platform. I hit the bottom and see the train stopped and the doors opening. No time for a swipe of the card so I leap over the turnstile. "Leap" actually sounds almost gazelle-like. It was more of a hop that caught both shins and sent me to the floor right on top of the ammo box. I think I cracked a rib.
The last fifteen feet are done in a crawl with the station attendant screaming at me. She's a huge black woman with platinum blonde hair and she's wedged into her token booth. I can hear her voice coming through the glass and the tiny intercom about how I need to pay or cops will be called.
She simply doesn't understand the situation.
So I'm finally propped on my elbows on the floor of the car waiting desperately for the bing bong sound as the doors close. There's a little albino guy in sunglasses drinking a coffee and smiling at me.
C'mon you fucking doors!
Angel is now at the bottom of the stairs and sprinting towards the turnstile. He actually does leap them.
Bing bong.
Angel's big body flies through the air as the doors close and his face smears an angry red on the glass. I give him the finger and the little albino guy claps in glee. He's loving it and I am too.
Bing bong.
Shit.
The doors open again onto Angel's smiling face. He grabs my ankle and drags me off the train.
One more bing bong and the doors close a last time. Before the train pulls away I see the albino guy looking like a kid on Christmas.
Angel has me up and pinned against the wall faster than I could move on my own.
Hi dead fucker.
Hi.
Before I throw you onto the third rail, - give me the box.
I look over his shoulder to the departing train.
Sorry ese'.
He lets go of me to chase the train a few steps. I take my chance to run and get collared by two transit cops instead. At least they don't want to kill me.
Two hundred and fifty dollars later I'm sitting in a bar downtown.
Most people bow their heads to pray. I tilt mine back. It seems more positive to look to the heavens and the whiskey wouldn't go down any other way.
Two hundred and fifty bucks! I should have let the big spic kill me. Instead I'm drowning in whiskey and several other problems all created by me. I catch my reflection in the mirror behind the bar, - drink in hand. Jesus. I've got tits. It's got to be the shirt. It comes off. Maybe the lighting. A bit of flex. I actually don't look too bad for a guy in his 30's that drinks too much and doesn't exercise.
How good is that?
There I was sitting next to me sipping what I hoped was at least gin and tonic but was probably just sprite.
Fuck off bub.
I came here to be civil jackoff. That, and to let you know your time is short.
Hmmm.
Heard you got into a bit of trouble today.
Shrug.
You know me.
I guess I do. See you soon.
Mmmm.
I was still staring at my drink when the bartenders hairy little sausage fingers pulled it away.
You're done pal. Put on your shirt and get out.
Mmmm.
Out into uncertain blackness.
In the dream I came to her on the sun ray that lit her hair. She rested, naked, back to me as I watched her shoulder move up and down on soft breaths. I kissed her gently behind the ear and could see the edge of her cheek rise as she smiled.
Strains of a familiar song move through the room. Giant cartoon music notes bob around getting bigger until ...
I'm awake.
9:32.
Damn alarm has been going off for 17 minutes and I haven't heard a bit of it. Must have had too much to drink last night. An attempt to move proves that theory. A sharp pain moves up the muscles in the back of my neck and ends in a burst of heat that gives way to nausea.
I slap the alarm off and the phone takes it place. The noise never ends. I want some place where all I hear is my own breathing or the sound of my heartbeat. Hell, such total quiet all I hear are my eyelids slapping together like the crack of a clapboard or breaking bones.
A truck air horn brings me back to the phone.
Hello.
I got something you waaannnt.
I'm not in the mood and I start to hang up.
The ammo box.
Fuck.
You wouldn't happen to be a jolly albino would you?
A high pitched giggle comes back to me.
You betcha. I'm albinoliscious.
More giggles.
I'll even come to you. Meetcha atcher office?
Fine, I'll meet you there at 10:30...
I look around and realize I'm already in my office. I must be worse off than I thought.
Actually, you'd better make it 11:30.
11:30 sharpie sharpie.
I hang up on more giggles. Off to the water fountain in the hall, splash some cold water and set my teeth against another day.
I had some time to kill so I did the usual. Second usual, actually. I didn't feel like jerking off so I stared at the wall hoping it would reveal the secret of what the hell I'm supposed to be doing.
I kind of know how I got here.
I got asked in high school what my goals were, what I wanted to be. The guy that asked sure as shit didn't have his life figured. He had sweaty hands that left outlines on his desk and (as far as I could tell) always greeted people with an apologetic smile. Sorry for my life as his hand limps out and you'd shake it and feel like you too should apologize for something, confess some sin. Instead you wipe your hand on your pants and don't care if he notices.
So what do I want to be?
The obvious answer is I want to be nothing more than flesh, bone, and mad mad desire.
Telling a high school guidance counselor this though would lead to him asking questions he doesn't care about before recommending a trip to the actual counselor. The only difference between the two is $1800 a year salary and a slightly better parking space.
So the real answer barely crawls from between my teeth.
Help people I guess. Something stable?
Surely he will see the insanity in what was just said! He'll get up, close his door, then really talk to me--really listen. He will give sage advice to this lost soul with so much potential.
Instead, he adjusts his glasses, leaving an evaporating palm print on the desktop that draws the eye.
Very good! I'm sure you'll do very well. Your teachers say you're smart, creative,
need to work on the motivation a bit, apply yourself but uh...you'll uh...do well.
I fake a sneeze just as his hand goes out for the We-just-did-a-half-assed-map-of-your-entire-life-now-go-get-'em' handshake.
His hand goes back in untouched. If it didn't, it was very likely I would have vomited.
So the choice was made to be a detective. It seemed logical. I'd be helping people in a way even if it was mostly trailing cheating husbands for emotionally poisoned wives and generally seeing the lowest we all have to offer. Did t.v. lead me to believe it would be exciting? I don't know. I do know the only constant in my life was the feeling that I was looking for something even if I wasn't sure what that thing was. There was something out there I needed to find.
Maybe I should have spent more time looking in...
Knock knock. 11:30.
No mistakes this time. We're in my house. I dropped the ball with G but now I'm in charge. Who makes the rules?
You.
My door hadn't opened to her face for a couple of months now.
In part of my head I dropped to my knees and pulled her to me crying without even the knowledge of pride, - wetting her belly with my tears and exalting that she is the reason--- She!
Unfortunately the part of my mind that was in control, the part of my mind that I watched unfold without any help from me was that of a lobotomized chimpanzee.
I...uh, meeting. It's about life...with the albino.
The tear creeping its way from the corner of her eye brought me back. If my high school counselor had asked me a year ago what I wanted to do with my life I would have said anything that makes this woman happy.
I pulled her to me and we slipped into our groove, - her forehead under my chin, delicate finger overreaching the small of my back, - breasts on my ribcage. She tried to talk through the tears.
I was worried about you. You never returned my calls.
Sweetheart listen- everything's gonna be ok. I've got a case and it's big. When I solve it I'm gonna give you something so wonderful... you'll see that I've changed. Don't worry.
I'm holding this woman, this perfect woman. I'm doing the one and only thing I want to be doing and instead of continuing to do it - I look at my watch.
Baby its 11:36. The guy who's giving me the thing is coming....
I've got her with me and I push her away for the thing I hope will keep her with me. She kisses the corner of my mouth and wipes her nose on my chest leaving two little wet spots. Then she turns and walks down the stairs. She always took the stairs.
I stood watching the two little wet spots dry and wondered if I just hit bottom or if getting her back be as easy as saying wait.
The elevator door opening gets my attention. It's the albino and me. I've got a gun.
So you were going to give her the meaning of life and try to get her back for yourself.
Why not? You were gonna' try the same thing.
She's mine asshole! You took her! She wouldn't want some degenerate like you anyway--meaning or no meaning.
With the gun pointed right at my chest like that all I felt was sadness that I might not see her again.
The albino moved to say something but instead looked to the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. His giggles rained down on Angel's head coming up the landing. We saw him first even though he walked behind G. They both froze at the top.
Too much staring was going on for me. The albino, Angel, and G all stared at each other. I stared at everyone, the gun stared only at me. More giggles from the albino.
Wonder how this will turn out?
More giggles.
Fuck this. I step forward.
Fuck this. I'll tell you why she'd want me back--because as fucked up as I've been, I've still been looking you fucking coward. You hired me to find the meaning. Kill me, kick the shit out of me I don't give a fuck! But you, albinoliscious, you'd better give me that fucking can right now or I'm gonna' start kicking the shit outta all y'all--starting with that big Mexican.
Hey...
I swear on the nuts of Jesus I didn't expect the gun to go off.
My breath left me as I fell back against the door frame. G and the albino shook their heads slowly, - one frowning, the other in glee. For a second Angel looked like he was going to stomp me anyway for the Mexican comment until G raised his hand ever so slightly and they both started upstairs towards the roof.
The albino gently pried the gun from my grasp and led me by the wrist to the elevator. I watched them get in and press "down". The albino smiled, bent down, and slid the ammo case to where I lay.
The doors closed.
My hand reached out to the case. I was vaguely aware of someone yelling. I pulled the case towards me by the front latch and it came undone. I rested it on my chest, opened the lid and looked inside.
In the bottom, someone had glued--very poorly--a two-dollar shaving mirror. Hardened, semi-transparent snakes of glue kept the warped and scratched mirror from moving and some had gotten on the face itself. I could still see my face reflected clearly in the bottom and then hers right next to mine.
I love you...