XIII - DEATH
It was All Saints Day 2007 and I remembered it was a national holiday in Spain. In America it was just the day after Halloween and I sat on the chilly roof in a cotton warm up and drank an enormous cup of deli coffee and smoked incessantly. I went through the sections of The New York Times one by one pumping myself with nicotine and caffeine and getting progressively more anxious. I was waiting for a call from Wild Bill as he was sailing his boat to dry dock and it would be the last trip of the year on the water. I was looking forward to some time on the boat and some conversation with the Wild Man but he called to tell me he couldn’t go and would go the next day early, but I declined not sure if I could get up. More coffee. The nerves were starting to get the best of me and I was afraid to even move. I didn’t want to be anywhere in particular but I certainly didn’t want to be where I was. Irina was beginning to haunt me again and all I wanted was to see the phone ring and have it be her. I was running out of options to get her out of my mind.
I began to wonder what had dragged me to such a cold and heartless place like New York. I’d had spells of the blues before but this was different; it was like a slow descent which at any moment was going to give way to a free fall. The only thing that gave me solace was the thought of smack because the booze had stopped working. I knew I was playing with fire but at that point I really didn’t care; I just wanted to float away. I had one bag left which was enough for a day but I wanted a longer ride.
I called Karina and I could tell from her voice that she was doped up and I hoped I could entice her into doing more. It was Sunday afternoon already and I decided to put on a nice shirt and a sport coat because I didn’t want her so see me looking desperate. When I got there they were drinking coffee and laughing. “What’s up girls, ready for a party?”
“Oh, we’ve already had a big party.” Answered Karina, but Galya’s eyes lit up. She was a true junkie and her radar was always up for easy money. I opened up my wallet and pulled out a stack of about fifteen twenties and threw them on the table.
“Let’s call the devil and get some goodies.” They must have been flat broke because they both jumped out of their chairs like middle school cheerleaders.
Karina started, “Oh my God, just when we didn’t know what to do to buy cigarettes you come around acting like a mafia boss.”
“Tell you what, I’ll go buy cigarettes and something sweet for everyone while you call the devil. Please, just get me an extra six bags for later, okay?” They both looked at each other.
Karina frowned. “That’s too much.”
“Don’t worry, I just like to have it around; it takes the edge off just knowing it's there.” I left before they could say more and came back about thirty minutes later with a cheese cake, whiskey, champagne and lots of cigarettes. They were jumping with joy.
Karina handed me four bags and they started putting out plates and glasses. I wasn’t in a mood to argue about how much they were keeping for themselves; it was mission accomplished. Once I had the bags I was able to relax and I drank some champagne and ate cheese cake while they spoke in Russian together. They were cooking something up but I wasn’t interested.
“Arthur, could we ask you a big favor? Could Galya use your room for a few hours? You can stay here and we can relax. Her boyfriend is coming and they have no place to go.”
I wasn’t thrilled about the worst case scenario of the cops busting her in some prostitution ring and me getting nabbed for being the pimp but I acquiesced, “Sure, here are the keys, when you get there, they’ll call me and I’ll tell them to let you up. When will you be finished?”
Galya looked at her watch, “I’ll be back in two hours.” She put some sheets in a bag and left while Karina and I talked like old friends with all pretense of romance gone. It seemed strange but at the same time a relief as there was one less thing to feel guilty about. We talked about Larissa, the counselor.
“Is she married?” I asked.
“Yes, her husband is a very important mathematician, works at NYU. She has a daughter who’s married and lives in California. Larissa was an engineer but then decided once she was here in the States that she wanted to work as a counselor.”
“Why?”
“Not sure, she would never say, maybe some kind of tragedy in the family. You know, she’s the one who introduced Galya and I. She told me, ‘Karina, you have to meet Galya, you two are made for each other’.” She giggled.
“She should go into match making.” We watched The Hustler and by the time Galya returned Karina and I had polished off a bag and I was feeling very good as the lines and the booze mixed well and I was enjoying Karina’s always provocative conversation. I strolled out onto the street not sure where to go and I finally found an old, classic French place that had a small bar and I drank a glass of wine and watched the graying Sunday night crowd stroll in. For a few moments it felt good but then it slowly began to slip away. I went into the bathroom and did a few more lines and came back and ordered an escargot appetizer that I could barely get down. My body was feeling strange, neither good nor bad, almost like I was leaving it. I left the French place in need of something familiar so I hit my local. By the time I got there I could barely speak, but for some reason I wanted to be out and not at home. People said hello and I tried to talk, but it all came out as very slurred. I drank vodka and cranberry and I started to not feel well so I asked Merv to get me a taxi and he walked me out to the street. “You got to start taking care of yourself man.”
It was all I could do to get out of the taxi and get to the elevator without falling over. Up came the food and I got into bed, pulled a big comforter over me and watched the rain through the widows. I wanted more and was hell bent on going all the way. I did six lines and had one more drink while watching the taxi’s go down 2nd Ave in the rain. I finally made it back into bed again in a complete daze and slowly the feeling became very light and comfortable. I put on some music, Arvo Part’s Tabula Rasa and my mind was able to work. I could feel myself in many different places. I remembered as a young man walking on a wood chip path in the north of Spain and feeling very good without any idea why. I remembered Madrid and a wonderful girl I loved and probably should have married. I relived my times with Irina and finally looked back at the taxis moving through the rain on 2nd Ave. I had always had some kind of plan, a place to go, but I’d finally hit the wall and I had a real feeling I was never going to leave New York.
I wanted to talk to Misha but I was ashamed to tell him how far I’d fallen. I wanted to ask him why this girl had lifted me up and made me whole only to clip my wings just as I was beginning to fly. But the dope helped me float another way and I felt like I was in a lifeboat alone on the high seas. It wasn’t such a bad feeling but thinking about coming back to everyday life was terrifying. I wanted to stay there permanently but I had no idea how to do enough.
I woke up not feeling so well with the sun shining brightly and making me only more depressed. I closed all the blinds and desperately hoped the day would pass quickly. I just wanted to float again into the night. I checked my mail and there was nothing out of the ordinary. I approved a few campaigns for Harry Scott, sent on a couple of invoices and got all the work out of my head. Harry Scott and the extra stuff from Bernstein was all I had between living nicely and completely falling through the cracks. Thinking about how close I was to the abyss just made it worse.
I began looking at the phone knowing I could call her at work, that she was still there. I imagined how bad it would be and that kept me from dialing. Why had she left me? Was she just tired of me or had something happened to change her? What most bothered me was how happy she seemed just days before she completely shut me out. I got back into bed and mercifully sleep came. When I woke the first thing I did was look at the clock, 6.45PM. She had left work already and I had made it one more day without calling.
I felt like some threshold had been
passed and there would be no reprieve, no return ticket. The phone didn’t ring all day. Not that I wanted it too but it would have given me some connection to the outside world and broken the heavy silence. I tried to watch a film on my computer but I couldn’t get into it. I tried chatting but it seemed absurd. I decided to do another bag and see what happened. I did more than I’d ever done but the feeling from the night before wouldn’t come back; it was different. The anxiety was gone but the peaceful, nostalgic floating wouldn’t return. I lay in bed listening to a strange radio program on NPR and I felt the tremendously dark weight of time and the fragility of life and then suddenly a small surge of peace came letting me know that there were no more dramas and no more journeys. The end would occur in my nice apartment, embellished with all the furniture and prints I had so carefully selected. My little palace that I was so proud of would become my tomb, and with that thought I passed out again.
And the next day the same routine, looking at the clock and thinking about calling Irina. The day passed but time gave me no reprieve. I called Larissa and canceled our appointments for that week telling her something had come up with work and I would have to go out of town. I picked up the phone and called Bernstein Media but when the receptionist answered I opted for Ryan, not Irina. He was jovial and we agreed to meet after work at a place on 29th Street and 3rd. I noticed that I was a bit shaky and the words were coming out strangely as if I were listening to myself talk. Ryan and I usually had a lot of laughs together and he must have noticed something was amiss.
“So, how’s the team? What’s going on with everyone?” He knew what I wanted to talk about but avoided it.
“Winde’s managing everything himself, same old shit. I would look for something else if we didn’t have our little business going. The extra money is good. How are you doing? How are your accounts holding up?” Ryan asked.
“Doing pretty well, keeping myself as busy as I can.” I wanted to ask him about Irina but I didn’t want to appear as desperate as I felt. “Still a bit pissed about how everything went down.” We were sitting at the bar and I didn’t look at him as I said it.
“Look bro, just forget it and move on. You’re still getting money out of them and that’s the important thing, get them back where it hurts.” It was no use; he was going to force me to ask what I was hoping I would offer.
“What’s Irina saying about the whole thing?”
“Nothing man, she’s keeping her mouth shut. The only thing she said was that you thought she got you fired and it wasn’t true. She said she didn’t say anything to them.”
“Do you believe her?” I ordered us two more beers.
“I don’t know. The whole thing was weird.” I was dying inside and I felt my eyes fall like they were sinking to the bottom of the sockets. I did my absolute best to put on a good face and seem cheery because I needed that business angle badly and I didn’t want them to think I’d lost it. “But she does look funny now though, she got her wisdom teeth out and her whole face is puffed up.” Ryan added.
I laughed, trying to appear lighthearted. “So she looks like a chipmunk?”
“Kind of.” Something happened as I imagined her; it was almost as if I was going to cry. I hadn’t cried in years. I went to the bathroom and washed my faced and tried to get hold of myself. I had a few more drinks with Ryan but it was like watching myself have a conversation with him. All I could think of was her mouth and her going to the doctor and wishing I were with her. The smack was definitely softening me up.
Ryan headed home and I went to another place. It was an Asian-fusion restaurant with a nice bar and a very handsome Southern bartender who was trying to become an actor. Besides the two of us the place was completely empty, not a soul, and I realized too many of my friends were bartenders. A few minutes after I got there a fortyish lady came in, very attractive and stylish and it was clear that she was there to talk to the bartender. They moved to the other end of the bar and appeared to be having a serious talk. After a few minutes she went to the bathroom and then he approached me. “Hey Arthur, let me buy you a drink.” He poured another glass of the red wine I was drinking and asked me if anyone came in to tell them he was in the back and would return shortly. I was sitting at a bar still half baked on smack drinking myself to death while the bartender was in the bathroom shagging some horny housewife; it seemed like an appropriate end to my story. I couldn’t bear the thought of eating and the strongest alcohol I could get down was wine. I finally left that friend, and went to see another, the one who owned the liquor store on the corner. I bought the best bottle of wine I could find, a bottle of vodka, orange juice and a few bottles of beer and a couple of packs of cigarettes and put it all on the credit card and headed home. Each step became a struggle as I was becoming aware of every move and every thought. The sky and air had changed and I felt the first cold of that fall and rain seemed imminent. As I walked into my building and smiled at the doorman I decided I wasn’t going to go out again and once inside I began to organize my apartment. I put everything in its place, emptied the garbage, organized my closet, cleaned up the kitchen. Once I had it all right, I surveyed my work, my temple to an unloving God. I thought of the hope, the dinners, the women but they all seemed very far away. I looked at the prints, caressed the furniture then put on Sibelius. I dressed in an expensive pajama and a robe and began to cut lines at the table.
In the corner I saw a big, black bug which was the first such creature I’d ever seen. It had hairy black legs and a strange, dark green colored design on it, like a shield. I didn’t want it crawling around while I was sleeping so I slid a piece of paper under it and put it in the hall. I went back inside and watched the sky become very dark and saw the chill of autumn in the light, in the leaves; it was everywhere. The rain started and it allowed me to enjoy the beauty of my apartment at its most sublime. All emails were checked and business taken care of and I enjoyed the friendly side of loneliness. I had no idea or care about where Karina was or what she was doing. I did think about Irina far too much and I remembered what she had once said, “Don’t think about me.” Fateful words. I sat in my armchair and watched Blue for probably the tenth time. Julie would have understood. I drank wine and kept doing lines until I was in the state again and did more lines just to be sure I would stay there. I had one bag left but I would worry about that when the time came. In bed, I listened to the rain and let it put me to sleep.
Another day, still rainy, but the desire for Irina grew and grew. I needed to talk to her just one more time. What would it gain me? The only thing I had left was some pride but I was willing to trade it for one more moment with her. She had come back before; maybe she would come back again, if only for a few weeks, or even one night; it might be enough. I lit a cigarette. It was 3:00PM and she was probably at her desk. I called the main number and the receptionist picked up.
“Bernstein Media, how may I help you?”
I lowered my voice a bit and quickly said “Irina Morozova please.” The extension rang and kept ringing until it went to voice mail. The media buyers often wouldn’t answer if they didn’t recognize the number. I kept looking at the clock but instead of wanting it to be six o’clock, I dreaded the moment when she would leave the office. I thought about an email but it wouldn’t do; I needed to hear her voice and to see her. I promised myself I would wait till four. Again, voice mail. Four thirty, again voice mail. I was starting to get frazzled. I made myself a drink and at five tried again. She picked up. “Irina Morozova, how can I help you?”
I was terrified. “Hi, Irina, it’s me Arthur. How are you doing?”
“Hi Arthur, I’m doing okay, how about you?”
“Fine. I was hoping we could talk. I wanted to clear some things up.”
“When?”
“Maybe today after work if you’re not busy?”
There was quite a long pause, “I can’t meet you Arthur, I�
�m sorry. We can talk on the phone if you like, call me tonight.”
“What’s your number?” She gave me the number. “What time should I call you?”
“Call after nine, I should be home by then.”
“Okay, talk to you tonight, bye.”
“Bye.” It was a let down but at least I would be able to speak to her. I wanted to see her, to hold her one more time but I was only going to get a phone call. I had about four hours to kill and the apartment was starting to make me stir crazy. I took a long shower and went out, even though I had promised myself I wouldn’t. I bought more cigarettes then went to a Borders Bookstore and watched the people with their back packs playing with their gadgets and the whole thing seemed absurd and the books I browsed through were utter bunk. I went to a bar and tried to eat some chicken fingers that went down badly then I walked toward the liquor store and the car lights were murky in the cold rain. If only I were going to meet her, if only things had worked out. I remembered being engaged in the world but it meant nothing to me that drizzly evening in November and my only lifeline to it was far away and long past me.
I got back home and suffered through the rest of the wait. Finally 9:00PM came. I waited a few minutes then called. Phone not available. I tried again, same thing. Finally, at ten, I tried again by which time I was a bit drunk. It rang. “Hello”
“Hi, it’s me.”
“Yes, hi. Listen, Arthur, I can’t talk to you.”
“What do you mean you can’t talk to me, you told me to call you?”
“But I thought about it on the way home and I can’t, I’m sorry, bye.” And she hung up. I sat there with the phone in my hand. I didn’t think, I just sat. I called her back, the phone rang and rang, then voice mail. Again, I redialed, again voicemail. I began to get very angry. I dialed again and again. Only voice mail. It wouldn’t stop. Finally she picked up, screaming.
“You can’t call people like this, it’s harassment. I will call the police if you call me again!” and she hung up. There would be no conversation.
It was finally over and there was nothing left do or say. I poured some wine and cut half the bag and did the lines and continued drinking until I finished the bottle and then I moved on to Vodka with orange juice. I divided the last half of the bag into two parts. I did one part, finished my drink, and then did the rest. The bags were gone. I would have to call Karina and this time she might not want to be so helpful. I had a bottle of Xanax that I picked up in Florida. I decided to washed them back with Vodka, all of them, and see where they took me. For a moment I got very scared but it came on very quickly. I had enough time to get into bed and it was over and I floated off.
Your Love Incomplete Page 10
