But only the pigeons answer, and then it dawns on him that there isn’t another soul there. . . .
“Cosmos,” calls out Niner. “Cosmos!”
And he rushes to where there should be a window, hangs out the hole, and screams:
“Cosmos!”
But Cosmos is gone. Simply gone. Run off with all the angel money. To the sea! By himself!
And Niner throws himself back down on the mattress and hammers it with his fists. He screams all his rage and his pain and his disappointment out into the empty house. He screams so loudly that even the pigeons stop cooing. And then with a flutter of heavy wings, they fly off to the next roof.
Niner cries. He cries until he is all cried out. Completely empty.
COSMOS RUNS AS FAST as he can. Just to get away. All that money. All his.
His name echoes over the rooftops.
“Cosmos!” yells Niner. “Cosmos!”
Cosmos flees like a fugitive. He runs through the sound of his name. He makes a turn, runs straight, turns again. It feels almost as if he’s running away from himself. But Niner’s scream follows him everywhere. And even long after the morning silence has fallen over the street again, he still hears the scream echoing with his footsteps.
“Cosmos!”
Finally the wind goes out of his sails and Cosmos comes to a stop. He leans on the gray wall in front of a house and pants. Beside him, an archway leads into a courtyard.
Cosmos looks around. It all seems familiar to him. He’s been here before. Yes, of course. This is where he first met Bald Pete, and Red Elsa, and Buddy Sloop with his glass eye.
Cosmos remembers that long-ago day quite clearly now. Harmonica Johnny had blown a warning tone, a dark, raw sound like a jay in the woods. And Cosmos had taken a step back, leaned forward and listened into the night. For the sound was as out of place under the archway as the hooting of an owl in a parking ramp. Somewhere, a dog howled and church bells were sounding. Three bright bells for the quarter-hours and eleven deep ones for the hour.
And that’s when they appeared. Four black shadows detached themselves from the walls and stepped out in front of Cosmos.
Bald Pete was the ringleader. He put his arm around Cosmos from behind and got him in a neck hold. His mouth was right by Cosmos’s ear, and his breath stank of whiskey. Then Bald Pete whispered, “Password?” and tightened his grip.
“Dunno!” Cosmos squeaked.
“He dunno,” echoed Pete. “Didja hear that, people? He dunno!”
“Search him!” Bald Pete ordered, and Buddy Sloop with the glass eye shook out the contents of the plastic bags.
Red Elsa pounced on the contents, crying out sharply from time to time as she pored over them.
“Well, lookie here, a comb.”
“Oooh, a candle.”
“Ah hah, a sweater.”
“Let’s see,” growled Harmonica Johnny, and grabbed the sweater. “Whaddya know, it fits!”
“Any booze?” asked Bald Pete.
“Negative,” replied Red Elsa.
“Cash?” Bald Pete asked.
“Five sixty!” replied Red Elsa.
“Listen here,” whispered Bald Pete to Cosmos. “This here’s our turf, and we don’t want no strangers. Got it? There ain’t nothing here for you. It’s all taken. So piss off!”
Then he let Cosmos go, and the four of them vanished into the night, just as quickly as they had come. And the sweater and the comb and the five sixty disappeared along with them.
YES, THAT HAD ALL happened right here, beneath this very archway.
Back then, Cosmos had just come back to town. And now . . . now he was about to leave town forever.
Just at that moment, someone lays a hand on Cosmos’s shoulder from behind.
“So, old pal?” It was Bald Pete again. “In a rush, as usual? Didja drop the shrimp off at kindergarten? Got to, once in a while. Only natural. Person needs a little time to himself.”
“Get your dirty paws off me!”
“No offense, pal!” says Harmonica Johnny from the other side of him. “Heard you came into some money?”
“You mind your own freakin’ business,” snarls Cosmos.
“They say you gotta rich girlfriend now. A certain lady in blue,” says Red Elsa.
“The Queen, Elsa. It’s the Queen of Caracas,” says Buddy Sloop with the glass eye.
This time, they’re not going to get me, thinks Cosmos. This time, I’m ready for them. I know this gang now.
“Where is the boy, then?” warbles Red Elsa. “Did you lose him or something?”
“Kindergarten,” says Bald Pete. “He can afford it, now. He’s got the dough, our old pal does.”
“Well then, I’m sure you’d like to buy us all a drink, wouldn’tcha?” says Harmonica Johnny.
“Don’t be so pushy, Johnny. He would’ve offered himself, you know!” Buddy Sloop hops around in front of Cosmos, practically toe-to-toe with him.
Cosmos considers the situation. Four of them against him. Not a soul on the street. There’s no help to be had anywhere. He’s got to get rid of them. He’s got to pay up, otherwise he’ll never shake them.
He puts his hand under his shirt, pretends he has to scratch himself, quite discreetly, so they don’t notice. He feels the bundle of money. He knows the fifties are on the inside. Then he holds out a bill in his hand and offers it to Bald Pete.
“Here, that’s for you. Now leave me alone!”
“Is that all?” asks Bald Pete.
“Listen to me, you rat,” says Cosmos. “Either you take this now and it stays between us, or I’m out, and the Queen hears everything, I swear!”
Bald Pete scratches his head. His mouth hangs open, and he looks genuinely puzzled.
Harmonica Johnny quickly plays a tune.
“Let’s see,” screeches Red Elsa. “That’s more ’n enough. That’s enough ten times over. Come on, boys, I’m thirsty.”
“I knew it!” says Buddy Sloop. “He’s a fine pal after all. Give my best to the little one, if you ever see him again. . . .”
He pulls at his dented hat and bows slightly. And then the four turn and take off, for there’s a liquor store on the corner, and it’s already opened for the day.
“NO,” THINKS COSMOS, “I’M never gonna be like that.”
Those are lowlifes who sleep under bridges. Beach pirates, riffraff, no-good drunks. They don’t have dreams no more. They gave up years ago. Their kind would never make it to the sea.
But me, thinks Cosmos.
But us, thinks Cosmos. The boy, Niner, me and him. We’ll make it.
And then he remembers how he sat with Niner by the river, the two of them dreaming of the sea. And how the two of them watched the big waves with the white crests crashing on the shore. And how they had heard the seagulls.
And then Cosmos hears Niner’s voice. He hears quite clearly how Niner says:
“I want to go to the sea, man! I would do anything to get there. Even walk on my hands!
“What d’you think the sea’s like? Is it blue or is it green?
“And what d’you think the sea tastes like? Is it sweet or is it salty?
“And what d’you think the sea smells like?
“Man, Cosmos, without my guardian angel, I’ll never make it to the sea. Don’t you get it?”
Cosmos hears all this as he runs down the street.
Oh no, he thinks. Not like that. I can’t just run off and leave the boy high and dry. Even if he is a ball and chain. I can’t do that, not for all the drink stands in the world!
And now he’s ashamed of himself for running off with the money! Just like that!
Cosmos stops, straightens up, and takes a deep breath.
I’ve got to go back to that house.
Cosmos hopes Niner is still there waiting for him.
And when he sees a bakery and goes in to buy some rolls and milk, he comes up with an idea:
“Hey, Niner, I went out to get some breakfast! You
were snoring like a grizzly! Couldn’t shake you awake for nothin’, man.”
Yeah, that’s it!
Hopefully he’s still there, Cosmos thinks, and quickens his pace.
“HEY, NINER, I JUST went out to get some breakfast. You were snoring like a grizzly. Couldn’t shake you awake for nothin’, man.”
Cosmos tears open the package of bread.
“Here, have a sniff. They’re still warm!”
Niner lies motionless on the mattress.
“Man, what’s the matter with you? Are you still alive?”
Niner turns his head to the wall.
Cosmos kneels down next to him and lays his hand on his back.
“Man, sonny, what you crying about!”
At that, Niner shoots up straight. Like a jack-in-the-box on a tight spring.
“I’m not cryin’ at all! Not a bit. And not ’cause of you, that’s for sure!”
Then Niner pounds Cosmos’s chest with his fists, hard little blows that really hurt. And Cosmos doesn’t defend himself.
Serves me right, he thinks. Really serves me right.
“You ran off with all the . . . money,” gasps Niner. “You were gonna . . . leave me hanging! You were gonna . . . go it alone. Admit it!”
“You’re crazy,” says Comsos. “I just went to get some bread!”
Then Niner lets his arms sink to his sides. He looks Cosmos directly in the eyes and Cosmos looks away.
“You see,” says Niner softly. “You can’t even look me in the eye. And that’s the kind of friend I wanted to go to the sea with . . . that’s the kind of friend I sold my guardian angel for!”
“I’m sorry,” whispers Cosmos.
“Forget it,” replies Niner. “I might as well just stay here. I’m not gonna make it to the sea anyway. Without my guardian angel, I’m not gonna make it anywhere.”
Cosmos has nothing more to say. He tries to give Niner a roll, but he won’t take it.
Cosmos eats his breakfast alone, while Niner lies on the mattress and stares at the ceiling.
Time passes in drips and drops.
Very slowly, it turns noon, and then afternoon.
The pigeons have come back long ago, and they resume their cooing and prancing up in the attic.
“But we were going to go to the sea,” says Cosmos finally. “Just picture it, the two of us with our stand on the beach:NINER’S NEWS
AND COSMOS’S COLD DRINKS
“In great big red letters on a white sign! We can do that now! We’re rich!”
“Just go, then! Go open up your stand!”
“But you have to come with me! I can’t do it without you! It’s your guardian angel money. We’re partners, after all, Niner!”
“But I can’t. I . . . I’m scared,” Niner whispers.
“Okay,” says Cosmos. “One more night. One more night here. But then, then you’re coming with me. Then we’re going to the sea!”
THE PIGEONS AREN’T COOING anymore. It is quiet in the condemned house. Quiet and dark. The night is completely black. Occasionally, there’s a rustling behind the torn wallpaper, and a very soft whistling noise. Those are the rats.
Cosmos is asleep.
Niner had been asleep too. But then he woke up in the middle of the night. He’s thirsty and freezing, and everything hurts. His head, his arms, his legs. It all hurts.
And there is a lump in his throat that he can’t swallow. And the lump hurts too.
“Mama,” whispers Niner. “Mama, say something!”
But Mama doesn’t answer.
She doesn’t answer, just like she hadn’t answered that night. The night the window was open for the last time.
Niner had waited below, by the front door of the building. From there, he could see both the windows, behind which were Mama and the new guy. He could see the shadow the new guy cast whenever he stood up to go to the fridge and get another can of beer. He could see Mama’s shadow, too.
And that night, he could see the other, horrible things.
Mama was a fairy shadow, much smaller than the new guy’s.
At first, everything was just as it had been every other evening. Niner waited for the light to finally go out. That’s when he could climb up, Mama told him. First up the fire-escape ladder, then over to the balcony, and from there in through the open kitchen window.
From time to time, the new guy went to the fridge.
Mama’s shadow was no longer visible.
Niner stood there, hoping that at some point the supply of beer would run out and the new guy would finally turn out the light.
It was so boring down there by the front door, and cold besides.
But then, suddenly, everything changed. Niner saw what looked to be a violent movement, a quick flash of dark and light. And then he watched, horrified, as the large shadow came at the small one with fists raised. And in one of them looked to be a bottle.
Then Mama’s shadow didn’t appear again, and the light went out.
Niner had never climbed up the fire escape that quickly. Below him, the front door slammed shut. The new guy stumbled out and hurried down the street.
Thank god he’s gone, thought Niner. Thank god!
And finally, finally he was standing in the kitchen and calling out, “Mama! . . . Mama?”
Mama was lying on the floor with her eyes closed. Her skin was split open over her brow and there was blood all over, lots of blood.
“Mama!” screamed Niner.
But she didn’t answer. Nor did she move when Niner shook her. Then he took her hand. He tried to pull Mama up, but her arm was limp, and it fell back down when Niner let go.
“Mama, say something, please,” begged Niner softly.
Then he screamed again: “Mama, say something! Mama, what should I do now? Mama, please. . . .”
But that night, Mama never answered. And Niner had to do everything himself.
He propped the apartment door open with a shoe, so it wouldn’t lock, and then ran down the stairs, pushed down the stopper on the front door. After what felt like an eternity, Niner was standing in the phone booth, telling the man on the other end of the line his address and saying: “Come quick, my mama’s not moving anymore.”
And they did come, with the lights and the sirens, and Niner led the men upstairs into the kitchen. And there, at last, Mama opened her eyes again. But she still hadn’t said anything.
One of the paramedics asked, “How did this happen?”
“I don’t know,” answered Niner. “I was already asleep.”
“We have to take her to the hospital,” said the paramedic. “And what will we do with you?”
“I’ll wait here. I have to wait here. My father will be home soon. He has to know what happened,” Niner lied.
“Good,” nodded the paramedic. “I’ll write down the name of the hospital.” And he gave Niner a slip of paper. St. Raphael’s Hospital, tel. 555-3475.
And then they took Mama away on a stretcher and the door slammed shut behind them.
Niner had stared at the paper. St. Raphael’s Hospital, tel. 555-3475. He stared at it for a long time, until he heard the new guy trudging up the stairs.
Niner quickly climbed out the window, still holding the slip of paper in his hand.
The new guy was not to know where Mama went. Not him!
NINER MOANS SOFTLY. SUDDENLY, there are feathers everywhere, streaming forth from the corners. More and more of them. The whole room is filled with feathers. They waft through the air and fall to the floor like snowflakes.
And there, in the middle of the feather storm, stands the Queen of Caracas. The feathers cling to her, and she looks like a big angry bird.
She has a knife in her hand, and she comes at Niner with a dark look on her face.
“You deceived me, Niner! I can’t use your angel. It’s a very bad angel, a black angel, and a black angel is good for nothing! A bad angel is worthless! I want my money back, Niner. . . .”
Niner wants to scream,
but he can’t. The lump in his throat is so large that there’s no room for his voice.
“I want my money,” hisses the Queen of Caracas. “My money or your life, do you understand?”
With his last bit of strength, Niner pushes out a scream.
“Mama,” he calls. “Mama!”
Then Cosmos wakes up.
“Whassa matter, bud? Whaddaya screaming for?” he asks sleepily.
“The feathers,” croaks Niner. “Take the feathers away! The Queen! The knife! Take away the knife!”
Cosmos stands up. He feels his way over to Niner’s mattress.
“Hey pal, there’re no feathers here. You’re having a dream. There’s no knife here, and there’s definitely no Queen.”
“The money,” pants Niner. “She wants the money!”
Cosmos puts his hand on Niner’s forehead.
“You’re burning up, man! You’ve got a fever!”
Niner is shaking. His teeth are chattering.
“I’m freezing,” he moans.
Cosmos grows frightened. I knew it, he thinks. Now he’s sick, on top of everything. Pure bad luck, the balance artist! What am I supposed to do with him now?
He feels around in the dark for the water bottle.
“Here, drink.”
Then Cosmos looks for the candle and the matches.
The faint light paints flickering shadows on the walls.
But the feathers are gone, and the feather Queen too, and nothing else streams forth from the corners.
Cosmos sits down on Niner’s bed, wipes his brow, holds Niner’s hot hand in his, and at some point the two fall asleep again as the candle slowly burns down.
MORNING COMES AND THE fever is gone, along with the moon, the stars, and all the shadows and darkness.
Niner is worn out and he still has a cough, but his fever seems to have subsided.
“Man, little buddy,” says Cosmos, “you really gave me a scare there.”
Niner attempts a grin.
He’s so pale, thinks Cosmos. So pale and small and sick.
“Hey man, today’s the day,” says Niner. “Today we get on the road!”
Beyond the Station Lies the Sea Page 4
