by Gary Beck
He was just getting to the cafes on Avenue A, when Beth’s cell phone rang. It was Detective Manetti with bad news. Late that afternoon the Manhattan District Attorney’s office, after what they asserted was careful consideration, declined to bring charges against Mr. Power and his co-defendants, due to insufficient evidence. Beth cursed furiously and it took a few minutes for her to calm down.
Peter took the phone and explained to Detective Manetti that they were moving in the morning. "If there’s any way to keep them locked up until mid-afternoon, we’d really appreciate it." Detective Manetti chuckled raucously and said she’d think of something. She wished them good luck and hung up. The adults said good night to each other and went to their rooms for their last night in the King Charles Hotel.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Beth woke up with a start in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. Peter stirred next to her,
"What’s wrong? Are you all right? Did you hear something?"
She turned to him and whispered, "I’m okay. It was just a bad dream."
"Was it about the attack?"
"No. I was running down an endless corridor and all the doors kept shutting just as I got to them. I guess I got tired of running and woke up."
Peter was very sympathetic and caressed her tenderly. "You went through a terrible ordeal and it’ll take a while for you to get over it."
"I don’t think it was about that. So much has happened to us in the last few months that I can’t make sense of. When I brought the children to New York City I thought things were going to work out for us. It was almost like a honeymoon for the first few weeks, discovering a new city and building a new way of life. I really liked our apartment on East 8th Street."
She fell silent and Peter said quietly, "I did too. I hoped we would find some stability there after Detroit, but it didn’t work out."
She smiled, "You could say that. I never could have imagined that we would be burned out and forced to go to a homeless shelter. We’ve been through a lot the last few months. At first, I was really worried about the children and how they would deal with being homeless, but they took everything in stride and made the best of things…. I’m so proud of them."
"I’m proud of you. No matter what happened you held us together and never quit. We wouldn’t have come out of this so well without your strength. Now we have another chance and we have to make the most of it."
"Do we have to worry about the landlord? He did burn us out of the other apartment."
"I don’t think so. Too much has happened, and the fire department is too suspicious for him to try anything…. It’s late. Let’s get some sleep and get out of here in the morning."
They slept soundly for the rest of the night and woke up in the morning for the usual schedule of getting Jennifer ready for school. Although they didn’t say anything, she sensed their excitement. "Are we moving today, Mom?"
"Yes, hon. The school bus will bring you back to the new place this afternoon."
"What’s the new address?"
"I’ll tell you tonight, once we’re there."
"Why can’t you tell me now?"
"It’s a secret," Peter answered. "We don’t want anyone in the hotel to know where we’re going."
"Is Latoya going?" she asked in alarm.
"Yes," Beth said.
Reassured, Jennifer changed the topic. "Does the new apartment have any furniture?"
"No. Daddy sent for our furniture in Detroit and it’ll be delivered tomorrow."
"That’s good, because we don’t have anything here…. What about Latoya and Pablo?"
"What about them?"
"They don’t have anything, and we’ll have all our stuff."
"We’ll help them get things. Now get your coat. It’s getting late."
It was a frigid morning, so the group waited for the school bus in the lobby, under the lizard stare of the Mister Singh clone.
Beth whispered to Kiesha, "After today we’ll never see those Singhs again. They give me the creeps."
"How many of them do you think there are?"
"I don’t know, but I always suspected they were androids who were stored in a closet and only allowed out one at a time." The two women giggled and drew a disapproving look from the Mister Singh clone behind the partition.
When the school bus arrived, the group put their children on board and reminded the driver to return them to the new address on East 11th Street. Kiesha was the last parent to talk to the driver and she asked him not to tell anyone at the hotel their new address. They had become friends and he flirted with her every morning, although she didn’t take it seriously. "If anyone asks, I’ll tell them you moved, and I don’t know where you’re living."
"Thanks. I appreciate that."
They went back upstairs and finished packing. It didn’t take long to once again put their clothes, personals and linens into black plastic bags. They started moving things into the hall and the bags began to pile up in mounds that resembled a garbage dump. Peter saw how many bags they had and he devised a code system with tape or string, so they could identify their bags when they unloaded. They put the heavier kitchenware and food stuffs into shopping bags and tied the folding chairs and trays together. When everything was in the hall they went back and double checked their rooms carefully. Once they were satisfied that everything had been taken they closed the doors to their rooms for the last time. They moved their belongings downstairs in stages. Hector went downstairs on the first trip with Beth, Kiesha, Miss Lily and the children. Peter waited upstairs with whatever was left. Hector came back up with Kiesha and they brought everything else down to the lobby.
When the elevator door opened, the Mister Singh clone was harassing the women about cluttering his lobby. He actually had the slot of the Plexiglas guard partition open and his head was sticking out.
Hector walked up to him, grabbed him not too gently by the ear and asked, "Who are you yelling at?"
The clone let out a screech of indignation and demanded to be released. When Hector let go, he popped back into his protective shell faster than a startled turtle and slammed the slot shut. He bitterly protested at being manhandled, but everyone ignored him. Then he demanded to know why they were moving without giving proper notice.
Peter’s weeks of reluctant patience came to an abrupt end. "We know how much money you get from the city for these rat trap rooms, and you let those criminals upstairs do anything they want. Here’s your notice. We’re leaving."
The Singh clone hadn’t anticipated such an outburst and didn’t say anything for a moment.
Then he asked in an oily tone, "What do you want me to do with your mail? If you give me your address, I’ll have it forwarded to you."
Hector had gained control of his temper and answered calmly, "That’s all right You can give anything for us to the social worker and I’ll stop by and pick it up."
"Does the social worker have your new address?"
"No. Why are you so interested in where we’re going? Do you want to tell someone?"
"I only wish to make sure that records are properly kept."
Hector wasn’t taken in by the clone. "So you need something for your records?"
"Yes, please."
"Put down this: address unknown." The group smiled at Hector’s expressing what they all knew, that the Singhs were aware of, if not actually involved in the criminal activity that went on in the hotel. The clone glared malevolently at them but didn’t say anything else.
While the group waited for Leon and his van, ghost women drifted in and out of the lobby. They stared curiously at the piles of black plastic bags that indicated the poor were moving, but they didn’t speak to their departing neighbors, or meet their eyes. Beth looked around the lobby that may have seen better days with a feeling of detachment. She vaguely remembered reading a play by Sartre way back in her less stressful days in college. It reminded her of the surreal state she was in as she waited for Leon the deliverer to take them away
from the hotel of terror. One part of her wanted to laugh at the melodramatic way she thought about the hotel. Then her sensible, realistic self asserted itself and she acknowledged that the hotel had become a cancerous assault on her life, as well as on her family and friends. A chilly dread slowly crept through her that something would go wrong and they would be forced to stay in the hotel, where they would be preyed on by the vicious animals who lurked there.
Just as Beth was about to sink into tangible despair, a battered, nondescript van pulled up outside that could only belong to Leon. Peter hurried out to verify who it was, then beckoned to the eager group to start bringing their belongings. Leon stepped out of the van and they got a good look at him. He was tall and thin, wearing a black leather motorcycle jacket that made him look like an emaciated rocker. His long hair was dyed grass green and he had piercings all over his face; ears, eyebrows, nose and lips. It was difficult to tell what his face looked like, since the glance was drawn to the silver glistening’s that sprouted in his flesh. He was as white as a cadaver and Beth couldn’t tell whether it was from the cold, drugs or a terminal disease. She was getting vibes of misgivings when he turned and said hello to her and he suddenly seemed like a sweet, lost soul, just adrift in a confusing world. She saw a flash of silver in his mouth when he talked, and she asked what it was. Leon stuck out his tongue and displayed a silver ball that pierced it.
"Cool, huh?" She didn’t know what to say and just smiled weakly.
The loading went quickly, encouraged by the freezing temperature and the urgency to get away from the hotel. Peter and Hector carried out the last plastic bags under the baleful gaze of the Singh clone. Peter started to give him the finger but remembered that Hector might be coming back for mail and suppressed the impulse. He walked out the door with the fervent hope that he would never see the clones again. The group’s meager possessions only took up a little more than half the space in the van.
Peter asked Leon if it would be all right if they all rode in the back, and he said, "Cool." Miss Lily and Shasta sat in the front seat with Leon.
Little Shasta kept staring at his face, and finally asked, "Did somebody bad stick you like pinhead?"
Leon laughed, "No, man. These are art."
Miss Lily apologized for Shasta, but Leon wasn’t offended. "It’s cool."
It took longer to get the rest of the adults and children settled in the back of the van than it did to load it. Peter and Hector redistributed the plastic bags so the children could use them for cushions. They stowed the folding chairs, trays and kitchenware so they wouldn’t slide and injure anyone.
When everything was ready, Hector said he was going to make a last check of their rooms and give the Singh clone the keys.
"We checked twice. Just give him the keys and let’s go," Kiesha instructed.
When Hector got out, Pablo called to Leon, "Hey, Mister Leon."
"Yeah, man?"
"Why’d you stick those things in your face?"
"Cause it’s cool."
"Did it hurt?"
"No, man. It felt good, cause I know chicks like it."
"Do you take them off when you go to sleep?"
"No, man. They stay in all the time."
Hector came back before the interrogation could go any further. "Let’s get out of here."
"Everyone cool?" Leon asked, and started the motor.
As they drove away, Beth looked back at the King Charles Hotel, a place where terrible things happened to her and her family and friends. But she knew that they had come out of their painful experiences stronger and more fit to endure whatever awaited them. Her children were unscarred by the tribulations of homelessness. Peter had become capable of dealing with the distressing realities that confronted them and was a comforting partner and husband. She had found a true friend in Kiesha, and she knew that they shared a bond that would bind them together forever. Hector and Miss Lily were the other pillars in what would be a new life in New York City’s east village, a life she hoped would bring them all security and happiness. As the van reached the corner of Madison Avenue, she looked back for the last time at the King Charles Hotel, the unwelcoming hostel in midtown Manhattan, and passionately hoped that she would never see it again. For the rest of the ride to her new home she thought about beautiful concert grand pianos.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Excerpts from ‘Extreme Change were published by:
American Polymath, Canopic Jar, Cogwheel Press, Cynic Magazine, Down in the Dust Magazine, Inscribed, Litvision, Morning Star Literary Journal, Nuvein Magazine, Retort Magazine, Sliptongue, Wheelhouse Magazine, and Yellow Mama.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Gary Beck spent his life as a theater director/playwright. He has had 25 poetry books, 9 novels, 3 short story collections and 1 book of essays and one book of his short plays published. Gary’s original plays and translations of Moliere, Aristophanes, and Sophocles have been produced Off-Broadway in New York City, where he resides.
