by Vicki Vass
“I brought you down here. I showed you the mail. The package I found was for a friend. Nothing you need to worry about. I delivered it to its rightful owner,” I said.
“It’s our decision what to worry about.” He climbed into the small opening. I handed him my flashlight. He looked around. “It looks like the room was flooded, and it smells like sewage. I’ll have to get a team out here to sort through everything.” He tried to dial his phone. “There’s no service down here. I’ll go upstairs.” Sherman ran up the staircase. I could hear him in the backyard talking.
I noticed the bag closest to the opening was dry, sitting on top of a ledge. It must not have been sitting down here as long as the others. If the letters were dry inside, they still could be delivered. I reached in and grabbed it. It wasn’t wet. I dumped it on the floor. It was filled with envelopes. I thought to myself, “Gary, you little sneak thief.” So many undelivered letters. I recognized a lot of the names. Some were open, some were not. Most of the junk mail was left just like Gary must have got it when he was supposed to deliver it. Whatever team of experts Sherman was calling over wouldn’t know these people like I know them. They wouldn’t care about the letters that were never delivered like I cared. The letters could be tied up for months in some bureaucrat’s office. Every letter tells a story. Here was a postcard to the Andersons from their son when he traveled to New York. Here was one for Bob from his brother in New Mexico. It was open. I read the letter. He was concerned about Bob’s health and wanted Bob to live with him. He thought the dry air would be good for his lungs. At the end Gary must not have cared about getting caught. He always made sure I had Bob’s mail.
At the bottom of the pile, I found a large manila envelope addressed to Alderman Sabatini. The return address was from the Army Corps of Engineers. Stuffed inside it were stacks of crisp hundred dollar bills. I dumped the money onto the pile of envelopes. I slipped the manila envelope into my pocket. Whatever happened between the Alderman and Gary I needed to find out before the authorities did. I’d almost got one innocent neighbor in trouble with them already. Even though I don’t like Sabatini how could I turn him in without knowing the truth? I heard Agent Peabody come back down the stairs. “Thanks, Jan, for showing me. . .” He stopped talking when he saw the pile of money on the floor. “Where’d this come from?”
“It was in one of the bags from the crawl space,” I said.
“I told you not to touch anything. Don’t touch anything else. Our team is on its way. We’ll handle it from here,” he said.
I handed him Helen’s daughter Sandy’s cell phone number. I had scribbled it down earlier and placed it in my pocket. “Call her. She’s a really nice girl.”
He gave me a look, pocketing the piece of paper.
I left through the back door and went around to the front of Gary’s house. I stopped at Bob Wilson’s house. It takes Bob a while to answer the door. He’s told me to just knock and walk in so I did. Bob was sitting in his green living room chair, wearing his bathrobe and his oxygen cannula. His oxygen tank sat next to him. He looked up from the book he was reading, surprised to see me. “Oh, hi, Jan, is the mail here already?” He put the book down.
I sat down on the couch. “Bob, in a way the mail is here. We were cleaning out Gary’s house and I found this letter for you. Somehow it got misplaced.” I handed him the envelope with the letter inside.
He pulled out the letter and skimmed it. “It’s from my brother. We haven’t spoken in a while. He lives in New Mexico. He wants me to come live with him and his wife. The date here says almost three months ago. What must he think of me?” I could see Bob was getting upset. It wasn’t good for his condition.
“Bob, explain to him that the letter got lost and you just received it.” I patted his hand. “Do you want to move in with him?”
“I don’t have a lot of time left, and I’d like to make amends with my family. I’d like to see him and his grandkids, and I don’t relish another Illinois winter.”
“If you decide to move, I’ll help you pack. Valerie and Bill will help. Whatever we can do to make it easier for you, we’ll pitch in.”
I could see Bob’s smile through the clear oxygen tube that hung in front of his mouth. Bob worked for a brake pad manufacturer in Cicero for thirty years. Never smoked a day in his life but the asbestos caught up to him. I thought about how our past always catches up with us.
Chapter Twenty-One
I wrapped the plaid stadium blanket around me. It was cold in the Bensenville ice arena. I never missed any of Danny’s games, baseball, basketball, soccer but especially hockey. I don’t really care for any of the sports but it was so cute to see the little eight-year-olds skating around on the ice, pushing the puck around. And, the parents in the stands were more fun to watch. They scream and cheer the kids on and get so worked up. Meg was just as crazy as the other hockey moms. Bill and Valerie were also big supporters of the team. Bill was the manager and Valerie booked the hotel rooms when they traveled for tournaments. Last year they played the Midwest Championship in the Wisconsin Dells. We stayed at the Kalahari Resort. We had an entire floor for the hockey teams. Every family brought a dish for potluck and a favorite cocktail. All the room doors were open so you could walk from room to room, sampling dishes. And, I must say I enjoyed a few cocktails myself.
Danny’s team won the tournament. We didn’t get back to the hotel until late at night. The boys marched up and down the hotel corridor carrying their trophy singing, We are the Champions. I think it was about 11 p.m. Hotel security came and made us quiet down. At the end of the night, we were all gathered in one of the large rooms, talking about the game, having a good time when I happened to look up at the TV over the fireplace. It was tuned to the hotel’s closed circuit TV channel. The first picture was the waterpark, empty. The next one was the lobby, still empty. The third one was the nightclub. That’s where I saw Danny and his friends in their hockey jerseys, dancing with some attractive 20-year-olds. I clicked off the TV and ran down to the nightclub before the parents could see. I gathered them all up and marched them back to their room. One of the older sisters, Holly, who was supposed to be watching them, was sound asleep on the couch with her boyfriend. I shooed him out and had a talk with her.
Now Holly was sitting on the bleacher with her boyfriend, one row down from me. She gave me a nervous glance and a head nod. I nodded back and handed her a chocolate chip cookie and one for her boyfriend. I made a tin for the boys and lemon squares for the parents. I don’t normally make lemon squares but James’ recipe is easy and he walked me through it. I made him come to the game. I don’t think he is much of a sports fan either. He looked cold even though he wore his London Fog camel hair coat and his cashmere scarf. He is a wonderful dresser. I tried to explain the game to James but it’s difficult because I don’t know all the rules. “James, Danny’s team is wearing the white because they’re the home team. He’s 34. He’s a forward. He is on the offense. His job is to go down ice and make a goal,” I said. “The other guys stay back. They’re defensemen.”
James listened politely. When I turned away, I could see him reading a book on his iPhone. I don’t carry a cell phone. Valerie has offered to add me to her plan but I don’t feel the need to be connected and available at all times.
“Go, Danny,” I screamed when he finally got the puck. He is a very shy boy and looked like he didn’t want the puck. He passed it back quickly to one of his teammates. One of the other boys on the other team threw his stick across the ice, slid into Danny and pushed him up against the glass. “Foul,” I yelled, jumping up. These kids aren’t allowed to check. I saw Bill walking along the glass, pounding on it and yelling at the ref. The boy, who skated into Danny, started punching him. Danny lay on the ice covering his face until the ref pulled the boy out and ejected him from the game. Danny sat on the bench. He was in tears. I walked behind the bench, tapped on the glass and waved to him. He was embarrassed and didn’t want to turn around. After the game I
waited in the hallway for Danny. He finally came out after all the other boys left the locker room. His head hung low, his stick dragging behind him. I knelt down and gave him a big hug.
“I’m sorry, Gran, Gran.” He said.
“Danny, you have nothing to be sorry about. The other boy was wrong. That was a foul, and it was bad sportsmanship. He’s been ejected for three games,” I told him.
“I know, Gran, Gran, but the other boys saw me cry,” Danny said.
“Danny, remember we talked about bullies.” I bent down to look him in the eye. “There’s a lot of bad people in this world, and I want you to be able to defend yourself. I’ve got your back.”
We walked out of the arena. Bill put his arm around Danny and talked quietly to him. Meg was exchanging words with the parents of the other boy. Someone grabbed her arm and pulled her back. She looked ready to swing at them. I looked at my family and thought about how blessed I am to be a mother, a grandmother, and a great grandmother. I thought about how blessed I am to be in a neighborhood of people I care about and that care about me. No matter what Gary the postman was up to, he didn’t deserve to die over it. He was a part of our neighborhood. We take care of our own, and I was going to take care of whoever took care of Gary.
Chapter Twenty-Two
It was still dark out, the clouds floated over the moon. Michael had delivered the papers to the curb. I walked my route, carrying them up to the doorsteps. I liked how peaceful the street is in the early morning. Except for the birds, they start about 4:30 in the morning. I’m not sure why but it’s the same every day. Wakes me up.
I started from my house and headed north down Linden. I delivered Anne’s paper first. Sassy was in the front window, staring at me. Next is Pete and Monika’s. I skipped the next two houses. They didn’t get the newspaper. I finished the rest of this side of the street. As I crossed over to the east side of Linden, a car flew down the street, aiming right at me. I stood stock still like a deer for a moment before jumping out of the way. It was a large dark SUV, the license plate was obscured. It came roaring back toward me. I jumped off the street and into the evergreen bushes on the side of Helen’s driveway.
The car stopped in the middle of the street, engine still running. Two men wearing shiny suits got out. The sun was starting to come up. I couldn’t make out their faces just the lead pipes they were carrying. The larger of the two men scraped the pipe along the street, making a high-pitched squeal. Sparks flew off the back of the pipe. The other man followed behind, pounding his open hand with the pipe. I couldn’t run. I stood still. I watched in seemingly slow motion like that split second before an accident happens. My mind couldn’t accept what I was seeing. It didn’t make any sense. I deliver these papers every morning. I walk this route every morning. That was my reality.
Neither man spoke. As they came closer to me, I held my hands out in front of my face waiting for the first pipe to come down onto my head. As the little man raised his pipe, I gave him a front kick to his groin. His grapes squished like I was making wine. The large man came down with his pipe, just missing my shoulder. I ducked out of his way and gave him a roundhouse kick to the side of his face. That took him down to the ground. I think they were more surprised than scared to see an old lady who fought back.
They both shook their heads and stood up. They came at me again. They were close enough now that I could see their faces. It didn't matter. Their faces were interchangeable with every other lowlife thug I’ve encountered. All muscle, no heart, soulless eyes.
The first thing Master Trevino taught me was not to be afraid of scum like this. The second thing was how to defend myself against scum like this. He taught me to use their size against them. Martial arts is all about leverage and speed, not size. These two ruined my morning and put me behind schedule. I didn’t like violence unless it was called for, and they were calling for it. Whatever reason they were coming at me now, I didn’t want them coming back.
The large man grabbed me from behind, pulling my arms behind my back so his little friend could get a good punch at me. I pounded the back of my head into his nose. I could feel it break and the blood splatter. He released me and then I punched him in the throat. I turned around. The little man was holding a butterfly knife, twirling it open and close to intimidate me. As I grabbed it from him, I could feel his wrist snap. I showed him how to properly handle a butterfly knife and then I kicked him in the side of his knee. I could hear his bone crack and ligaments snap as he fell to the ground, withering in pain. I don’t like violence but I’m not opposed to it when necessary.
Mr. Hiro ran out of his backyard, brandishing his rake, swinging it and yelling in Japanese. He was able to hit the small man on the butt with the business end of the rake. I stopped him before he could inflict more damage on the two men who were already lying helpless on the ground. “Miss Kustodia, Miss Kustodia, are you okay? I heard shouting. I looked out and saw everything. Are you okay? Are you okay?”
“Mr. Hiro, thank you, I’m fine.” As we spoke, the two men bent over in pain crawled into their car. They took off. We watched the car tail lights fade into the morning.
“What happened? Why’d they attack you?” Mr. Hiro asked, holding my arm and looking me over.
I shook my head. “I don’t know.” I had my suspicions but nothing I could share.
“Please, come sit down.” He took my arm gently and led me to his house. Mrs. Hiro was waiting in the doorway. “Please come in, sit down.” He turned to his wife, “Amaya, make tea.”
With the excitement over, I realized how sore and tired I was. I sank onto their oversized leather couch. “Your wife’s name is Amaya, I didn’t know that,” I said to him.
“It means night rain.”
Amaya came back with a porcelain teacup. She bowed her head and put her arms forward toward me with the cup. She smiled and bowed again. I sipped the warm liquid and gazed around the house. They had lived here for almost two years. I never knew her name before and this was the first time I was in their house. It was a cozy little room. Nothing like I expected. I guess I expected to be sitting on the floor with paper sliding doors like when Gino and I lived in Japan. Instead it was very American with its leather couch, walnut coffee table and flat screen TV. In the corner was a small drafting table. Mr. Hiro excused himself and went into the kitchen to speak with Mrs. Hiro. I walked over to the drafting table. There were blueprints and designs scattered on it. I couldn’t make out what they were. Mr. Hiro returned, carrying a plate of cookies. I was surprised to see Oreo cookies. “Those are plans for a bridge,” he said, noticing me studying his blueprints. “I’m a structural engineer.”
So, that’s what he does. I sipped my tea and took one Oreo cookie to be polite. “Mr. Hiro, thank you so much.” I glanced around the room but did not see Mrs. Hiro. I set the teacup on the coffee table and stood up. “I have to go finish delivering the papers.”
“You should rest,” he said, standing in front of the door. “Let me call the police.”
“No, really, I’m fine. There’s nothing they can do. I can’t identify the men. I don’t want any more trouble. I want to finish the papers and go home.” I opened the door and left.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Later that afternoon I picked up Danny on the corner at the bus stop. After my street fight, I realized that this world was not safe for old ladies or young people. Danny needed to learn how to protect himself, and I knew just where to take him.
“Hi Gran Gran, where are we going?” Danny asked getting in the car. I usually walk down the corner to pick him up but today I drove.
“I have someone I want you to meet,” I said, waiting for him to buckle his seat belt. When he was done, I drove the few miles to Henderson and pulled in front of a large brick building. It resembled many other suburban strip malls. The sign on the outside of the building read White Dragon Kenpo Karate. Danny followed me into the building. On the wall were pictures of Master Trevino with Muhammad Ali, Elvis Presley
, Richard Nixon and Bruce Lee. Each picture was more impressive than the one before. Danny didn’t recognize any of them. “Where are we, Gran, Gran?” he asked, taking my hand.
“This is Master Trevino’s dojo,” I told him. “Dojo is a place of honor for learning karate. Master Trevino is a tenth degree master black belt and an old friend.”
Danny looked out onto the floor, which was covered with gymnastic mats. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors hung on the long wall. A kick bag hung in the corner. Boys and girls his age were walking out of the changing room wearing their white gis. Some with yellow belts, some with green belts. We stood in front of the small front office and peeked in the big glass window. Master Trevino was speaking on the phone. He waved us in. I could tell Danny was in awe when he saw the collection of fighting knives hanging on the wall behind Master Trevino.
He hung up the phone, rose and stood up to greet me. He was wearing a velour track suit, his salt and pepper hair didn't give away the fact that he was almost my age. He looked quite the opposite of a great warrior. More like somebody’s grandpa at a backyard barbecue. “Janice, so good to see you. It’s been so long. This must be your great-grandson, Danny,” he said, taking both of my hands in his. I had called him earlier to tell him we were coming over. Then he walked over to Danny and put his hand out. Danny shook his hand timidly. Master Trevino said, “Son, grab my hand like you mean it. A handshake tells a lot about a man.”
Danny smiled and squeezed as hard as he could.
“That’s it. That’s the way you do it.” Master Trevino gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. “Sit down. Sit down both of you.” He took his seat behind the desk again.
“I wanted Danny to watch a lesson to see what you teach,” I said.
