by Gary Beck
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
A heavy snowstorm on Monday kept the women and children in the hotel after school. Miss Lily made two large pots of pasta for dinner and invited Ephraim and Precious to join them. Everyone stuffed themselves and when Miss Lily went to make coffee, Ephraim brought out a big box of cupcakes for dessert. His popularity with the children rose enormously, and if he opted to run, he would have been elected mayor of the hotel unanimously.
Over a second cup of coffee, he told them about life in the hotel. "As soon as the weather gets warm, all that trash upstairs moves outside to the street. Every night, as soon as it gets dark, prostitutes looking’ for business stop cars as they go by. Drug dealers and pimps hang out on the steps, steerin’ customers inside. Some of the gamblers run games on the street and send suckers upstairs. There’s junkies all over the place and muggers lookin for a victim. Those wild little kids hang out with them, runnin’ errands, watchin’ for the cops, learnin’ awful things from their role models."
The group was amazed that all that criminal activity could take place on the street, right in front of the hotel. "Why doesn’t the hotel management do something about it?" Hector asked.
"Either they don’t care, or they’re gettin’ paid off. As long as they don’t kill anyone in the lobby, them Singhs ignore them."
"That’s disgusting," Beth said. "There are decent people living here. They shouldn’t have to see that filth."
Ephraim shrugged, "I agree with you, but that’s the way it is."
"Don’t people in that big apartment house across the street object?"
"The building just opened about six months ago. Most of the tenants didn’t move in until it turned cold. They’re in for a surprise this spring, when the evil flowers come out."
Beth smiled. "A French poet wrote a book called ‘Flowers of Evil’."
Ephraim nodded. "He must have known a place like this."
"What about the police? Can’t they do anything?"
"There’s always watchers lookin out for the police. Maybe if an unmarked car comes by they bust a low level dealer if he be careless, but that’s about it."
"Well if we’re still here, we’ll have to do something about it."
Ephraim looked around in alarm, "This ain’t the place to talk like that, Beth. There’s ears everywhere."
The social gathering broke up on that depressing note and everyone went to their rooms. Beth was still agitated after the children fell asleep. "It’s still cold here in March, isn’t it?"
"I think so. Ephraim really got you worried, didn’t he?"
"Yes. We can’t live here with all that crime and violence. That’s why we left Detroit. We have to get out of here before the weather turns warm."
"If we don’t hear from the landlord by Wednesday, I’ll call him and find out what he has to say…. Are you sorry we didn’t go to one of those motels?"
"No. At least here the filth isn’t right on top of us. The way those motels were described there’d be no way to avoid it… Peter."
"What?"
"Promise me you’ll get us out of here before something terrible happens."
"Sure, hon. One way or another we’ll get out of here."
"The thought of barricading ourselves in our room against those vampires before it gets dark makes my skin crawl."
The next two days were uneventful and when he didn’t hear from the landlord, Peter phoned him Thursday morning. He wasn’t able to get through directly and left a message. One of his colleagues at work overheard his message and told him that slumlords typically didn’t have a person answer the phone, so they could distance themselves from responsibility. The landlord called him in the late afternoon and was very affable. He offered to renovate the burned-out apartment and didn’t say anything else. Peter reminded him that the apartment was only a sublet and they had already discussed his giving Peter and his friend’s permanent apartments in the same building. The landlord hemmed and hawed, but finally admitted that he remembered their talk. He asked how many apartments they were talking about and what kind of families were involved. Peter told him there were three other families and that they were very reliable people, who could be very good tenants. The landlord was still reluctant, so Peter told him that he had a meeting scheduled with his lawyer next Wednesday and he would like this situation resolved by then, since he was living in a hotel and his expenses were mounting.
That evening, Peter told Beth about the conversation, "I didn’t push him too hard, because I can always do that later. I told him we wanted apartments for our friends and gave him a deadline of next Wednesday, when I would meet with our lawyer."
"We don’t have a lawyer."
"He doesn’t know that. We can always get one. It’s not as if there’s a shortage. I also told him we were living in a hotel and it was expensive."
"You didn’t."
"I didn’t tell him what kind of hotel. The more pressure I put on him, the better."
"We don’t want to lose our apartment."
"Don’t worry. We can always go back to the sub-let. He already offered that."
"How long would it take to renovate the place?"
"Probably not more than a month, or so."
"Then if we don’t get apartments for our friends by the end of this month, let’s go back to the sub-let, all right?"
"Sure, Beth. If that’s what you want."
While they were relaxing, Beth brought Peter up to date on the latest news about homelessness. "You’ll love this. New York City admitted today that homelessness is higher than at any time since the 1980’s, when it was an urban crisis. There are more than 25,000 people staying in shelters, despite harsh screening by the Giuliani administration that turns many needy families away. What do you think of that?"
"I guess we’re a statistic. It’s weird that when the economy is booming there’s more homelessness. We know the mayor doesn’t care, but what about the city council?"
"They’re too busy trying to repeal term limits, so they can keep their jobs."
"Politicians are the same everywhere. They only want to know us at election time."
"You’re getting cynical, Peter."
"Maybe. There’s something wrong when the richest country in the world can’t solve the problems of hunger and poverty. With all the government programs, foundations and churches, things just get worse and worse for a lot of people."
Beth read an article from the Times about the lift-off of the space shuttle Atlantis that was delivering the American space lab to the International Space Station. It was one of the few positive news items.
Peter remarked, "When I was a kid, my father was always talking about the space program and how men walked on the moon. It seemed very remote to me. The little I heard about space activity was about the shuttle taking off and landing. It wasn’t very glamorous. The media treated it as casually as a plane trip to Pittsburgh. I never wanted to be an astronaut back then. I guess I didn’t think it was adventurous enough. I remember watching some of the spacewalks when we were in college. Those guys were actually floating around in space, but everybody treated it like they were working on the family car, parked in the driveway. It was weird. I don’t know enough about science to understand why we don’t have a colony on the moon yet. I bet they wouldn’t have a homeless problem there."
Beth looked at him strangely, "I’m not used to your joking about our situation."
"I’m trying to go with the flow. Read a little more."
"Sure. A deranged man fired several shots near the White House…."
"Bush just moved in a few weeks ago. They should at least let him get comfortable there before making him duck for cover."
"Do you want to make witty comments, or should I read?"
"Both."
"All right. But this is the last item I’ll read. The U.S. Senate approved payment of 582 million dollars in past dues to the U.N."
"That’s a lot of past dues. I wonder why the U.N. didn’t hire a bi
ll collector."
"It wouldn’t have done much good. We haven’t paid the U.N. for years."
"Well, they can’t kick us out, because they’d have to move. I can just see them setting up tents in Kuwait."
"I guess that could happen. The House of Representatives has to approve the payment and that may take some time."
"I’ll worry about the U.N. next week, Beth." They went to bed more relaxed than any night since the fire.
The next few days had a surreal quality for the group. They had established a peculiar rhythm of life in the hotel that had come to be accepted as normal. This brief illusion was abruptly shattered on Monday afternoon. When Beth, Kiesha and Miss Lily came back from the park with the children, two of the rooms had been broken into; Miss Lily’s and Beth’s. The padlocks had been pried open and the door locks had been opened with a key. This time the visitors made a mess, but they didn’t quite trash the rooms. They did take the small black and white TV from Miss Lily’s room and one of Peter’s shirts. Beth called the police and they waited and waited for them for hours. By the time Peter and Hector came home from work the police still hadn’t arrived. Beth called again and the 911 operator told her that the local precinct had been informed and officers would be there as soon as possible. When Beth complained that they had been waiting for hours, the operator reminded her that there were no injuries and no crime in progress, so it had been assigned a low priority.
Two detectives, a man and a woman, finally arrived several hours later. The man was big, in his fifties, sagging and bulgy, with the red face of a drinker. The woman was in her thirties, tall and husky, with dyed blonde hair, coarse features and an ‘I don’t give a shit’ manner. They were completely indifferent to the group’s agitation. When they found out that almost nothing was taken, they took a few notes, then turned to go.
"Wait a minute. Is that all you’re going to do?" Beth asked. So far the man had done all the talking, "What do you expect? The only items taken were a junky old black and white TV and a shirt. What are they worth? Ten bucks?"
"But someone broke into our rooms and made a mess. Aren’t you going to take fingerprints?"
"Listen, lady. We have real crimes to solve. We don’t have time for this petty crap."
"So anyone can break in and you won’t even investigate?"
"We get dozens of calls a week from this dump. If you catch someone in the act, call us." "Then what are we supposed to do?"
"Get better locks," the woman replied harshly, and they turned and left.
The group stood around for a few minutes without knowing what to do. The children were hovering in Hector’s room, resigned to another invasion that they couldn’t understand.
Pablo asked Hector, "Why did they do that, Popi? We didn’t have anything but that old TV."
Hector groped for an answer, "I don’t know, Pablo. Maybe they don’t like us and they’re just being mean."
"We didn’t do anything to them."
"I know." He looked helplessly at the other adults, but they couldn’t add anything meaningful.
"Well, there’s no sense standin’ around here feelin’ sorry for ourselves," Miss Lily said. "Let’s clean up the mess and have dinner. The kids must be starvin’." For once the children seemed subdued, as if this incident had snapped the thread of well-being that let them accept the unacceptable and still function cheerfully.
Hector was smoldering, "I’m going upstairs and tell those animals what I think of them."
Peter supported him, "Me too."
The women looked at each other, afraid for the men. "That’s not a good idea." Miss Lily said tactfully. "Then they think you just goin’ up there to fight with them. It don’t do us no good if you get hurt."
Hector was torn between frustration and common sense, "What are we supposed to do? Let them come down whenever they want and break into our rooms?"
"Doin’ something rash doesn’t solve the problem, chile. You just calm down and let us think about it for a while." Hector reluctantly agreed and they quickly straightened the messy rooms.
After they ate, the men were still muttering about going upstairs and Beth impulsively declared, "We women should go up there and tell them to leave us alone."
Kiesha was enthusiastic, "Right on, missy. I’m going with you."
Peter immediately objected, "You’ll do nothing of the sort. Who knows what they might do to you."
"They won’t hurt a woman," Beth asserted.
"How do you know?" Before it became an argument,
Miss Lily said, "I’ll go with them and make sure they be all right."
Kiesha grinned, "The oreos ride."
When they got to the tenth floor no one was in the hall. "Hello." Beth called. "Anyone there? We want to talk to you." There was no answer, so they started knocking on doors.
Beth took one side of the hall and Kiesha the other and they both repeated the same thing; "We’re the women from downstairs on the fifth floor. We don’t have any valuables, so please stop breaking into our rooms. We’re just trying to take care of our children and we don’t want any trouble." They waited for a few minutes and when no one responded they went downstairs. Peter and Hector were pacing nervously and were obviously relieved at their return.
Peter rushed to Beth, "I was worried about you."
"We’re all right. They’re like cowards everywhere. Afraid to show themselves."
Hector shook his head. "Don’t be so sure. These are violent criminals and we have to be careful."
They went to bed soon, but just after midnight, they were all awakened by furious pounding on their doors and a threatening voice screamed, "You oreos mind your fuckin business, or you’re gonna get hurt." This was followed by cursing, yelling and footsteps clattering upstairs. The group wisely didn’t open their doors and it took a while for a troubled sleep to overtake them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Before Hector went to work in the morning, he talked to Kiesha and Miss Lily about their need for two more cell phones. Each of them gave money to Beth and asked her to buy two more phones. After Beth put the children on the school bus, she went to the hotel desk and complained to one of the interchangeable Singhs about the break-in, and the late-night threat.
Mr. Singh was completely indifferent, "We are not responsible for break-ins to rooms. There is no way we can monitor who comes in, who goes out. This is family hotel, not prison camp."
"Family hotel? What kind of families do that criminal activity on the tenth and eleventh floors?"
"I do not know of criminal activity in hotel."
"Then you’re the only one. Everyone else knows what goes on up there."
"Is not good idea to make accusations against people you do not know."
"Who do you think pounded on our door last night, cursing and threatening us, then ran upstairs?"
"I do not know. I suggest you do not disturb other tenants."
Beth stared at him in amazement, "Mr. Singh, you are a piece of work."
"Thank you."
Beth went to the social worker’s office and knocked repeatedly. As usual, she didn’t get an answer. This time, instead of yelling mocking insults, she wrote a note, ‘Dear Social Worker, We are four families now living on the fifth floor, who need your assistance. We have been trying to see you for weeks with no success. Please contact me in room 503. Thank you. Mrs. Harmon.’ She slipped the note under the door and decided to give the social worker a few days to respond before trying again.
She went upstairs and in an unusual indulgence let the children play, while she and Miss Lily chatted over coffee. "This seems like such an unaccustomed luxury, just sitting and talking, but I’m not ready to start doing things yet. I’m really concerned about those thugs pounding on our doors last night."
"I am too, chile. We’ll just have to be careful and look out for each other."
Beth relaxed for a little while and then started the children’s reading lessons. She felt they were making progress and
left them with Miss Lily and her storytelling, while she went to buy the cell phones on Third Avenue. She stopped at the thrift shop, a growing habit and noticed an old PC for sale. She powered it up and it seemed in good working order. She scrolled through the menu and it had a lot of educational learning games for children. Beth was sorely tempted to buy it when she asked the price and was told fifty dollars. Then she remembered the break-in and realized how vulnerable they were. Just carrying the computer through the lobby would be an invitation for someone to visit them while they were out. She consoled herself by buying a batch of children’s books that were on sale for 25 cents each.
On her way back to the hotel she met Ephraim, and he asked her to join him for coffee. They went to the coffee shop on the corner of Madison Avenue and 28th Street. She hadn’t spent any time alone with him and she found his direct honesty refreshing. "I heard them hoodlums poundin’ on your door last night. You and your friends gotta be careful not to provoke them. They be real bad dudes."
"What are we supposed to do, let them break into our rooms and steal whatever they want and not complain?"
"It don’t do no good to complain. Unless the cops catch them in the act, nothin’s gonna happen. They be upstairs doin’ their crimes and they got eyes everywhere, watchin out for them. They’re not breakin’ into your rooms to steal stuff. They’re showin’ you they’s in charge of the hotel and you gotta go along with it."
