by J. J. Murray
“May I help you, sir?”
“I am Tony. I need new clothes.” He read the man’s name tag. “William.”
“You’ve come to the right place,” William said. “A couple of shirts, some pants?”
“I would like shirts, pants, socks, belts, and shoes,” Tony said. He looked again at the racks and displays of clothing. “So many choices.” He let the bag drop to the floor and began twisting and pulling on his fingers. “My brother Angelo buys clothes for me. I do not know what to do. I am sorry. I have Asperger’s. I have trouble choosing.” He closed his eyes. “I have never bought clothes before.”
“Do you know all your sizes?” William asked.
“Yes,” Tony said. “Forty-two shirt, thirty-six thirty-two pants, eleven and a half shoes.” He opened his eyes. “Will you help me?”
“That’s why I’m here, Tony,” William said. “What colors do you like?”
“I like all colors,” Tony said.
“Let me put together a few outfits for you,” William said. “Are you going to be all right while I do that?”
“Yes,” Tony said. “I will try not to stare.”
Tony watched William putting outfits together, displaying them on top of a rack in front of him. Tan chinos, a solid blue shirt, a brown belt, and brown shoes. Blue chinos, a plaid black shirt, a black belt, and black shoes. White chinos, an orange and red plaid shirt, brown belt, and another pair of brown shoes. William laid three pairs of socks on each of the shoes. “How do these look?”
“They look good,” Tony said.
“Do you want to try them on?” William asked.
“Yes,” Tony said.
William chose the blue chinos with the plaid black shirt and directed Tony into a changing room. There, Tony took off his old clothes and put them into the DSW bag. When he finished dressing in his new outfit, he stepped outside and looked in a mirror. This is good, he thought. Trina will smile when she sees me. She will see that I know how to dress.
“You look great, Tony,” William said. “That’s a good look for you.”
“Yes,” Tony said. “I want to wear these clothes now.”
“Okay,” William said. “What about the other outfits?”
“I want them, too.” He handed William his credit card.
“I’ll ring these up and bag them for you,” William said.
This is a good look for me, Tony thought. A good look, a good book, a good cook, a good hook . . .
“Mr. Santangelo,” William said, “your total comes to $750.47.”
“Okay,” Tony said. He signed the receipt and collected the bags. “Thank you, William.”
“Thank you, Tony,” William said. “You’ve made my day.”
“God makes days,” Tony said.
“You’re right, Tony,” William said with a smile. “Have a good day.”
Tony sped from Banana Republic back to the Huntington Hotel, dropped off his old and new clothes in his room, grabbed the bag of shoe boxes, and stopped by the front desk.
“I am hungry,” he told Delia.
“Your brother has been calling you all morning, Tony,” Delia said.
“Is Angelo here?” Tony asked.
“No,” Delia said. “He’s been calling from New York to see how you’re doing.”
“Oh,” Tony said. “I am fine. I am hungry.”
“You could eat here,” Delia said. “We have a wonderful restaurant with a grand piano.”
“It is not my piano,” Tony said. “It is too big.”
“What kind of food do you like?” Delia asked.
“The kind of food you eat,” Tony said.
Delia blinked. “There’s a little café not far from here.”
“Yes,” Tony said. “I will go there.”
“It’s called the BeanStalk Café,” Delia said. “It’s over on Bush Street.”
“I know where that is,” Tony said. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Delia said. “Don’t you think you should call your brother back? He sounded worried.”
“He is always worried about me,” Tony said. “I will go eat now.”
Tony walked briskly to Bush Street and the BeanStalk Café. He approached the counter, where an Asian woman smiled at him.
“I would like to eat lunch now,” Tony said.
The woman nodded. “What would you like?”
Tony scanned the menu. “I would like a ham sandwich with lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, onions, mayo, and Dijon mustard.”
“Hot or cold?” the woman said.
“It is nice outside,” Tony said.
“I meant, do you want the sandwich hot or cold?”
“Hot,” Tony said.
“Cheddar, Swiss, or pepper jack cheese?”
Tony hesitated. “Cheddar.”
“Horseradish, Korean spicy sauce, jalapeños, peppers, pickled cucumbers, or bacon?”
Tony pulled and twisted his fingers. “Yes.”
The woman laughed. “You want all of that?”
Tony stopped pulling on his fingers. “Yes.”
“Um, you know you’re turning an eight-dollar sandwich into a thirteen-dollar sandwich,” the woman said.
“It is okay,” Tony said. He pulled out his credit card. “I have this.”
“Would you like chips?” she asked.
“Sixteen Cheetos,” Tony said.
The woman blinked. “Sixteen.”
“Yes.”
“What do you want to drink?”
“Hires Root Beer,” Tony said.
“For here or to go?” she asked.
“For me,” Tony said.
The woman smiled. “I’ll bring it out to you.”
Tony sat on one of three stools along the wall, a one-foot counter in front of him. This does not have a good view of the street, he thought. Maybe that is a good thing. I am here to eat, not to sponge.
The woman brought out his lunch.
“You are Chinese,” Tony said.
“I am Korean,” the woman said.
“My friend Aika is Japanese,” Tony said. “Her name means ‘love song.’ My friend Lu Chu is Chinese. Her name means ‘green pearl.’ What is your name?”
“Hyun Ae.”
“What does it mean?” Tony asked.
“Wise and loving,” Hyun Ae said.
“It is a good name,” Tony said. “I am Tony. It does not mean anything.”
Hyun Ae placed a stack of napkins next to his plate. “Enjoy your meal, Tony. And you’ll need these napkins.”
Tony spent a full minute deciding how to pick up the overstuffed ham sandwich. He spent another minute deciding where to make his first bite. Once he bit into his sandwich, juices dribbled down his chin to his plate and to the counter. Hyun Ae is wise to give me so many napkins.
He put down his sandwich and turned on the ringer of his phone.
It rang immediately.
“Hello, Angelo,” Tony said.
“Tony, thank God!” Angelo yelled.
“Thank you, God,” Tony said.
“I meant . . .” Angelo sighed. “Never mind. I’ve been calling your phone and the hotel for the last ten hours. Why didn’t you answer me?”
“I turned off the ringer,” Tony said.
“Why did you do that?” Angelo asked.
“I do not like how it sounds,” Tony said. “It is too demanding.”
“Well, change it to something less demanding,” Angelo said. “And don’t turn off the ringer again.”
“But I have been busy,” Tony said. “You said I needed to get out more.”
“Not all the way to San Francisco,” Angelo said.
“You believe me now,” Tony said.
“I didn’t believe you until I saw your online bank statement,” Angelo said. “Three grand for a plane ticket? Fifteen hundred for a hotel? Two hundred for some shoes? A thousand thirty-five for a haircut? Seven-fifty and some change for some clothes?”
“I am only using the credi
t card,” Tony said. “I bought Trina shoes. I got a haircut and a shave. I still have a beard. I am rugged. I have new clothes. I am eating at the BeanStalk Café. I will take Trina to Cielo Azul for dinner tonight.”
“Who pays a thousand bucks for a haircut?” Angelo yelled.
“It was a good haircut,” Tony said.
“Look, I want you to go to the hotel and stay there,” Angelo said. “Aika and I are flying out to San Francisco as soon as Aika gets off work tonight.”
“I do not need you here,” Tony said.
“Tony, I’ve been worried sick about you,” Angelo said.
“Take Pepto-Bismol.”
“Not funny,” Angelo said. “I’m going out of my mind here.”
“I wish I could do that,” Tony said.
“Yeah, well, I haven’t slept a bit since you disappeared,” Angelo said.
“I did not disappear,” Tony said. “I am here at the BeanStalk Café with Hyun Ae.”
“And I would have taken you to San Francisco if you would have let me,” Angelo said.
“I am doing this on my own,” Tony said.
“There’s no doubt about that,” Angelo said. “When were you planning to come back to Brooklyn?”
“I do not know,” Tony said. “Say hello to Aika for me. Tell her I bought Trina shoes.”
“What kind of shoes are they?” Angelo asked.
“Nurse’s shoes,” Tony said. “They did not have Danskos but Sanitas are excellent. Very comfortable. They are black to hide the blood. I must go give Trina her shoes now.”
“No,” Angelo said. “You must go to the hotel and stay in your room until I get there.”
“I am giving Trina her shoes now,” Tony said.
“Tony, you’re not hearing me,” Angelo said.
“I am hearing you,” Tony said. “I do not like what I hear you saying. I am giving Trina her shoes. I will wait outside the hospital for her. There is a bus bench across the street from the emergency room. I will sit and wait until she comes out.”
“Wait, Tony,” Angelo said. “I don’t know if that’s a good—”
“Good-bye, Angelo,” Tony interrupted. He turned off his ringer and grabbed the bag of shoe boxes.
I am going to give Trina her shoes.
I hope she likes them.
I hope she likes me.
19
Trina left the emergency room a little after six and walked with Naini across Bush Street to wait with her until Naini’s bus arrived.
“Another day done,” Naini said, standing near one end of the bus bench.
“Yeah,” Trina said, hovering beside her. “And there will be another one just like it tomorrow.”
“Thank you for helping me get some overtime in the ER,” Naini said.
“It wasn’t hard,” Trina said. “I asked if they needed another set of able hands after four o’clock, and they said, ‘Please!’” She sighed. “What are you going to do with the extra money?”
“I am putting the money away toward a car,” Naini said. “Then I will not ever have to take this wretched bus back to Oakland again.”
Trina looked at the three people squeezed onto the covered bus bench and noticed a man straining his neck to stare at her. Is that the guy who was watching me at the park? Same Brooklyn Dodgers jacket. Not many Brooklyn Dodgers fans around here. And he must have gotten a haircut or something. He isn’t as shaggy looking. Maybe he has been visiting someone in the hospital. She glanced behind her to see what the man might have been staring at and saw nothing particularly interesting. When she looked his way again, he quickly turned away.
That was weird. I hope he’s not following me.
She squeezed Naini’s shoulder as the bus rolled up. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“No, you will not,” Naini said. “I will be working up in acute rehab all day.”
“How’d you manage to get that assignment?” Trina asked.
“I have physical therapy skills,” Naini said.
“So do I,” Trina said. “Put in a good word for me, please.”
“I would, but it is only temporary,” Naini said. “But at least I will get a few days away from ES.”
“You’re so lucky,” Trina said. “Well, I’ll come up to visit you when I can. Bye.”
As Trina walked past the bench, toward Hyde Street, she saw the man twisting and pulling at his fingers. Maybe he got some bad news? Should I talk to him? He looks needy. Maybe he’s out here getting some fresh air.
As Trina turned the corner on Hyde, she saw movement to her left. The man on the bus bench shot to his feet and waved at her with his right hand, shaking a Designer Shoe Warehouse bag of shoe boxes in the air with his left.
And now he’s shaking a bag of shoe boxes at me? Is he trying to sell them to me? You got the wrong customer, pal. I’m broke.
Trina quickened her step and continued down Hyde Street. Waving at me. A grown man waving at me! Like Forrest Gump or something. And selling shoes on a bus bench. He actually shook the bag at me. A grown man on a bus bench. What is this world coming to?
Later at home, Trina read the online version of the Chronicle. She scanned the headlines until she saw “Art E. Sighted in Nob Hill?” She clicked on the story and saw two obviously gay barbers out in front of the Fairmont hotel....
A Nob Hill barber got the shock of his life when he received a $1,000 tip for a haircut today from a client asserting that he was Art E., the reclusive songwriter and winner of three Grammy Awards for best song.
“I know it’s hard to believe,” Carlos Muniz said. “But I have the thousand bucks to prove it.”
Why would the greatest living songwriter get a haircut in Nob Hill? If this is true, Art E. was only blocks away from me while I worked. I love that man’s music. Unlike most music today, his lyrics make sense and never curse.
“He was a nice-looking man,” Carmine Jenson said. “He was maybe six feet tall with dark eyes. He looked Italian to me.”
“I’d tell you what he wrote on the receipt,” Muniz said, “but it’s unintelligible.”
“All he said was that his name was Tony,” Jenson said. “And he was from Brooklyn.”
“And he was looking for a nurse named Trina,” Muniz said.
“He was going to give her some shoes!” Jenson said with a laugh. “I guess her feet hurt.”
Trina’s body shook.
What?
She reread the article.
Okay. Hmm.
This can’t be a true story.
It’s in the entertainment section.
Entertainment stories are usually full of rumors and lies.
Maybe business is slow at the Fairmont and this is just some free publicity.
She read the article one more time.
Brooklyn Dodgers jacket. Tall Italian man with dark hair. Got a haircut. Holding a shoe bag. In Nob Hill. Looking for a nurse named Trina.
Trina shut off her laptop.
He couldn’t have been looking for me.
Nothing that crazy could ever happen to me.
Could it?
20
Tony paced his room at the Huntington, twisting and pulling his fingers.
I waved.
I waved at Trina.
I should have said hello.
I held up her shoes.
She did not see them.
She did not see me.
Her clear eyes did not see me.
I could have asked her about the weather. I could have asked her how her feet felt. I could have asked her about the book she was reading in the park. I could have smiled. I could have nodded. I could have tried to flirt. I should have winked. It was dark. She would not have seen me wink. I will see her at the park tomorrow. I will explain everything.
He called Angela.
“Good news?” Angela said.
“I waved at Trina,” Tony said. “I was only two feet from her, and I waved.”
“Did you say hello?” Angela asked.
“I was afraid,” Tony said. “She is so pretty I could not speak.”
“She must be very pretty,” Angela said.
“Yes,” Tony said. “Her beauty silences me.”
“You have to get over that, Tony,” Angela said.
“I will try,” Tony said.
“What happened after you waved at her?” Angela asked.
“I held up the shoes I bought her,” Tony said. “She did not see them.”
“I’m sure she did, Tony,” Angela said, “but you didn’t say anything to her first. I thought you were going to talk to her before you gave her the shoes.”
“It is hard,” Tony said. “My voice freezes in my throat whenever I see her.”
“You don’t have to say much,” Angela said. “Simply explain why you got them and then give her the shoes. Go ahead. Say, ‘Trina, I got you these shoes . . .’”
“Trina, I got you these shoes,” Tony said.
“So that . . .”
“So your feet do not hurt anymore,” Tony said.
“That sounds like a great start,” Angela said.
“And then I will go to her home,” Tony said.
“Um, Tony,” Angela said, “let’s see how it goes with the shoes first.”
“I want to go to Trina’s home,” Tony said.
“I know you do,” Angela said. “Just see if she likes the shoes, okay? And let her invite you to her home.”
“I cannot go to her home,” Tony said.
“Not unless she invites you,” Angela said.
Tony looked out the window at Huntington Park. “Help me talk some more. Aika helped me by acting like Trina.”
“I will,” Angela said, “but you have to go first.”
“I will go first,” Tony said. “Hi, I am Tony. What is your name?”
“I’m Trina,” Angela said.
“It is foggy today,” Tony said. “It is like clam chowder without the clams and potatoes. Do you like clam chowder, Trina?”
“Yes,” Angela said.
