Paint It Yellow

by López, Andrés G.

  “That’s because the Dodge is an intimidating machine. I didn’t get the same feeling when I drove that Chevette in driver’s ed.”

  “You need to watch your blind spot when you change lanes. Signal and check to see if anyone’s close. Otherwise, you’re gonna hit someone.”

  “Thanks for the tip.”

  “Hey, that’s what I’m here for.”

  “So what’d you do today?” Paul asked.

  “Notice anything different about the Dodge?”

  “She sure ran nice.”

  “Tuned her up in front of Pop’s apartment,” Gabriel said and he went on to relate the garbage truck episode while Paul laughed.

  “Speaking of Pop’s apartment, when are you gonna come back to live with us? All Pop talks about is what a big stink you made wanting to leave Hell’s Kitchen and how when we got here you left to go live near Sal.”

  “I don’t know; maybe soon. It’s lonely in that apartment. And I’m always driving, so rent’s a waste.”

  “That’s what Pop says. Save for school.”

  “I haven’t made plans to go back. I’m … sick of school. That last year was torture.”

  “I’m worried about your safety. Who the hell knows what lunatic could enter your cab? I need to know you’ll be okay, and so does Pop. He won’t tell you, but he can’t wait for you to quit.”

  “I’m careful. But I can’t live my life afraid. Besides, Pop may get his wish soon. I might get a different job instead of going back to school.”

  “How many degrees do you need anyway?” Paul asked.

  “The more the better.”

  “Thought with four years of college you could get a decent job, if you wanted you could be doing something else, right?”

  “Yeah,” Gabriel replied, embarrassed that Paul sensed his confusion about his future. “You can do a lot with a bachelor’s degree but I’m not sure what I want to do. When I started making so much cash driving, I got addicted. And now, I’m stuck.”

  “So you make lots of money—”

  “And to spend it taking my brother out to dinner. How else would we have the dough to eat at this fine Greek restaurant?”

  They both laughed. Constantine arrived with their gyro plates and while Paul hungrily devoured his salad, Gabriel fell into a daze, staring at Athena’s statue with a childish longing — images of Mandy bombarded his mind. For most of the morning, Gabriel had suppressed thoughts of Mandy but now they returned with a vengeance. Paul stopped eating.

  “You’re gonna upset Cosmo over there,” he said, nodding toward Gabriel’s untouched food.

  Gabriel fiddled with his salad. “Do you remember Mandy?” he asked.

  “The cute girl you had a crush on at St. Pat’s?”

  “I ran into Matt Jones’s dad yesterday and he said she disappeared in April of ‘78. Still can’t get my head around that.”

  Paul put down his fork and sat back. “Did the police expect foul play?”

  “No one knows. It’s torture thinking about it. Just wish I could relive my life and appreciate every second I spent with her.”

  “As I recall, she was crazy about you. Told us she was fortunate to meet the family of such a wonderful gentleman.”

  “And I was.” Gabriel leaned back in his chair, took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair.

  The brothers remained silent as they ate. Soon, they were paying Cosmo and thanking him. While Paul asked Cosmo about his family in Greece, Gabriel got his change, flagged down Constantine and put a ten-dollar bill in his pocket. Gabriel gave Cosmo his goodnight salute and the brothers went out to brave the brisk evening air. Gabriel fired up the Dodge.

  “So what’d you tip Constantine? He looked ready to bust.”

  “Ten bucks,” Gabriel replied. “I know it’s probably too much but hell, that guy works damned hard and you know he’s over here slaving to support his family in Greece. Besides, what good is money if you can’t use it to make people happy? I love it when I work my ass off and passengers make it worth my while. I’m just returning the favor.”

  CHAPTER 13

  As the Dodge warmed up, Gabriel took out a twenty and stuffed it in Paul’s coat pocket.

  “What’s that for? I don’t need any books or anything right now.”

  “That’s for you to spend. Take a girl out or something. And if you need more, let me know.”

  Paul smiled. He hated asking his father for money. Not wanting to head home just yet, he begged for a cruise to Astoria Park.

  “Sure thing,” Gabriel responded. “A ride’s just what I need to help digest that gyro.”

  With Pink Floyd’s “Time” pumping out of the speakers, Gabriel accelerated down Broadway to 21st Street. He let the engine roar to speed while he and Paul screamed out the song’s chorus.

  Within minutes, they had parked near the Hell Gate Bridge and stared at the black turbulent East River waters.

  “Man, look at them whirlpools! I heard that if you get pulled into one of those suckers, especially under the bridge, you’re a goner.”

  “Where’d you hear that?” Gabriel asked.

  “The kids who hang out here talk about it all the time.”

  “Sounds hard to believe. But who knows? There may be truth in it. For the last thirty hours my head’s been spinning like a whirlpool thinking about Mandy. Sal told me to snap out of it. Said she didn’t give a shit about me and that I shouldn’t torture myself asking ‘what if?’”

  “You never went out with her, right?”

  “Right,” Gabriel mumbled, seeing her beautiful eyes staring up at him from the cold murky water.

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. I missed my chance, I guess. After the eighth-grade dance, I thought we were an item. Mandy said we could get together over break, but I never called her. I didn’t want to … presume, I guess. I figured when school started, I could ask her out. But when we got back, the talk was that Mandy was into Matt. She hung out with a new group after school and Matt was in that crowd. After school, I had to walk you and Mary home. I didn’t have time. By late January, Mandy and Matt were going steady. When I saw her about a month later, she told me she had a crush on Matt for years.”

  “I never knew you were sad.”

  Gabriel, leaning over the railing on both elbows, sunk his cheeks into his hands and glanced at the huge rocks twenty feet below, but saw only Mandy’s face.

  “I was. I don’t think you ever get over the person you fall in love with for the very first time.” He reached over and hugged his brother.

  Paul was caught off guard and though bewildered, he embraced Gabriel.

  “You know this doesn’t look good,” Paul chuckled.

  “Yeah, I know.” Gabriel released him. “But … I’m so lucky to have you. How else could I have dealt with my disappointment? And those late nights shooting pucks in front of the house on 28th … I practiced so hard so I could impress her. Matt was such a damned good goalie. I used to dream about putting a slap shot past him while Mandy was watching.”

  “Seeing the two of them together every day must’ve killed you.”

  “It really wasn’t that bad. In front of the nuns you had to keep the funny business under control, or you’d get detention. Matt usually played touch football at recess. And … he was a great friend. And Mandy kept being nice to me too; I loved her so much it really didn’t matter she’d never be mine. Being near her seemed enough.”

  “But it wasn’t.”

  “No,” Gabriel admitted. “It wasn’t the same.”

  “Then you marched off to Mater Christi and that was the end of the crush.”

  “Not really. I loved Mandy for a whole year after graduation. I’d sit in the library during lunch hour and doodle on the inside cover of my notebook — her name and mine inside a flaming heart.”

  “You better stop,” Paul said. “That sounds pathetic. The brother I know would never waste his time with that girly stuff.”

  �
�Well, I did.”

  “Let’s walk a bit. I’m freezing my butt off here. No wonder no one’s around.”

  Gabriel and Paul zipped their jackets, threw their hands deep into their pockets and started walking quickly down the long lane parallel to the East River. The farther south they traveled, the more the light from the Triboro Bridge and far off Manhattan skyscrapers could be seen on the restless river waters.

  CHAPTER 14

  Gabriel drove his brother home and the car was as quiet as the empty streets they traversed. Neither wanted this time to end. Neither dared touch the radio for several blocks. Somewhere near his turn up Broadway, Gabriel fumbled for a rock station and smiled when he recognized the familiar opening notes to Jackson Browne’s “The Pretender.” Within seconds, Gabriel sang along. He knew Paul would not be able to resist singing and sure enough, by the first chorus Paul had joined.

  These days they were both pretenders — playing roles they did not like, waiting to find a better way. In singing about the emptiness of everyday life, they purged their worries. By song’s end, things were looking up. For one, Gabriel saw a parking spot in front of his father’s apartment. His eyes lit up and he slipped the Dodge into it as easily as one slips on a comfortable pair of shoes.

  “Man, do you make it look easy,” Paul said when Gabriel was done maneuvering. “Guess this was meant to be, huh?”

  “You mean I’ll have to stay over because I found the perfect spot?”

  “You can’t waste such a rare opportunity.”

  “And you’d like to drive the Dodge to school tomorrow?”

  Paul grinned.

  Gabriel handed him the keys. “Here, have a good time. Just drive carefully tomorrow and don’t get distracted by those pretty girls — especially that Claudette.”

  “Thanks for trusting me with the Dodge. I’ll treat her like a princess.”

  “I know you will. You treat her better than I do. But first let me lock her up.”

  He reached for the long thick chain beneath his seat and carefully slipped it around the brake pedal and steering wheel. He secured a large American eagle lock onto the chain and tugged on it to make sure it was tight enough. Under the bright streetlight, the Dodge waited serenely for dawn, her mag wheels tucked neatly toward the curb, her chain guarding her from potential thieves.

  Daniel Brosa heard the familiar sounds — shuffling feet, jingling keys and whispering voices — knew his sons were on the basement steps and finally relaxed. Since eight that evening, he had lain in bed worried about them. It was now ten fifteen. Before lying down, he had prepared the sofa bed for Gabriel, giving up one of his pillows to insure his son would be comfortable and taking out two extra blankets he’d purchased on sale at the corner store.

  The brothers entered quietly, thinking their father was asleep but in seconds Daniel was barking out instructions — explaining what there was to eat and where Gabriel could find the toothbrush he’d left behind when he moved. He told Gabriel he’d not thrown it out because it was still in good shape, how the people in Cuba would use a brush in that condition for several years.

  Though Gabriel urged his father to stay put, Daniel rose from bed, adjusted his pajama shirt and slipped on his cotton slippers. From the top of the refrigerator in the small kitchen, Daniel grabbed a wind-up alarm clock and handed it to Gabriel.

  “¿A qué hora te vas?” Daniel asked.

  Gabriel told his father he had to leave no later than ten to five. The RR train at that hour snaked its course downtown at top speed and Gabriel would grab a coffee and muffin a block away from his stop. Gabriel thanked his father for the clock, set it and placed it ticking like a small bomb at the foot of the bed. Before lying back down, Daniel yelled to Paul that his lunch money was on the table. In soft Spanish, Daniel said to Gabriel, “These days I don’t sleep much, and when I do, never soundly, so if you need anything call me.”

  “Okay, Papi. Gracias. Nos veremos mañana por la noche.”

  In the familiar darkness, Gabriel lay back exhausted and drifted off into his dreams. While Paul thought about driving the Dodge, his ears were perked to hear any unfamiliar sound from outside. Daniel, though he had just told his son he hardly ever slept, fell into a sound sleep and soon was back home in Cuba. With both his sons close by and safe, he relaxed and that night his thoughts were kind to him.

  The alarm clock rang at four thirty. Gabriel took a few extra minutes to rest his eyes before rising. He still felt exhausted; his bones ached; the back of his neck throbbed. He yawned twice, rubbed his hands hard on his face and made his way to the bathroom in the darkness. When he came out, he found his father making him café con leche on the small stove. Gabriel toasted and buttered some bread slices and sat down at the kitchen table. His father sat with him, sipping his hot black Bustelo coffee. Ten minutes later, Gabriel thanked and told him he’d see him later and left to catch the train. When his son was gone, Daniel went back to bed and lay awake till six thirty when Paul rose to prepare for his school day.

  CHAPTER 15

  Gabriel did not feel like going to work, but Mr. Gibbs didn’t tolerate absenteeism or lateness and Gabriel didn’t want to set him off. On the platform waiting for the RR, Gabriel shivered as a cold breeze zipped through him. Paul’s words swarmed in his sleepy mind — what if some lunatic were to enter his cab and take his life? How could he face death at such a young age, knowing he’d accomplished so little? How would his family cope? Gabriel glanced around him, suddenly afraid of being pushed in front of a speeding train. He took several steps back from the platform’s edge, leaned against the back wall’s advertisements and felt relief when the train rumbled into the station and opened its doors. He sat in a corner seat away from everyone and closed his eyes as the train squeaked away on the iron rails.

  Gabriel considered how horrible it must be to leave grieving loved ones behind, to leave everything familiar to embrace … what? The RR train lurched forward after screeching into the 36th Avenue station. The air brakes released pressure with a loud hiss. Had his faith eroded so much over the past eight years that he found it impossible to imagine heaven? Being with God? There had been a time when thoughts of heaven conjured up real images of a blissful kingdom, when he’d looked forward to the promise the nuns spoke of.

  At 39th Avenue, the train stopped with a long screech and stomach-turning lurch. Gabriel held on, annoyed at the conductor. This was where he would exit if he were headed toward St. Pat’s, the stop before Queensboro Plaza, where Mandy had last been seen. The train doors closed. His mind filled with images of Mandy again: in Sister Martha’s classroom writing in her notebook, in the schoolyard giggling with girlfriends, at the dance in that beautiful blue dress. He thought about their kiss and the sparkle in her green eyes, opening doors for him to all the beauty in the world. But then the images Mr. Jones had described surfaced: Mandy telling her father she was depressed, threatening to jump off a bridge, walking out of her house.

  The train was moving again, rocking lightly on the tracks as it picked up speed toward the dreaded sharp turn Gabriel hated. The train tilted so much that Gabriel saw it toppling off the rails and crashing to the street below, crushing pedestrians and unsuspecting motorists headed to work in a sleepy stupor. He braced himself. The lights inside his car dimmed, flickered and then went out. Only the electric sparks shooting up from the outside tracks illuminated Gabriel’s car, making him feel he traveled through space in a ship besieged by a meteor shower. Gabriel held his seat’s railing tightly, prepared for the train’s plunge to death. In seconds, it was over; the iron snake straightened itself, bounded aggressively into the station rattling everything around it, shaking the concrete platform at Queensboro Plaza and the confidence of waiting passengers who looked anxiously into the jaws of this indifferent metal monster.

  After a brief stop, the train picked up speed again, ka-thumping every thirty yards or so as its wheels crossed successive sections of track in the early morning darkness. As the train went fas
ter, the car began to sway more regularly, and soon the disturbing noises outside were drowned out by the soothing mechanical rhythm. Gabriel’s mind drifted; he was so deep in thought, he forgot he was going to work. When the train took its dive into the river’s belly, Gabriel’s mind again swarmed with images of death. He focused on a little girl, perhaps six or seven years old, lying helpless, dying in the middle of a city street in Jackson Heights. Blood oozed from her face. The car had hit her and sped away. Her mother and younger brother watched in horror.

  Gabriel and other Finn’s Pub players had been headed to a softball game that afternoon, back in June 1973. The accident happened on the corner of 77th Street. Within minutes, ball players from both clubs became friends. Some kept back the crowd that gathered so that the little girl could get air; others turned traffic cops in an instant, directing cars away from the accident; still others helped a coach administer first aid to the young victim while waiting for the ambulance to come.

  It was a moment when boys became men, when Death stared them all in the face. Gabriel saw the little girl’s ruptured gums, eyes that looked out uncertainly, blood everywhere. Her life hung in the balance for minutes that seemed like hours, waiting for the ambulance. Fifteen, twenty, thirty, thirty-five minutes ticked by. Finally, a police officer took charge; with his partner’s help, he carefully raised the child’s almost lifeless body into the back of his police car and sped away to nearby Elmhurst Hospital. Ten minutes after that, the ambulance arrived and the paramedics were booed and jeered by those who lingered at the scene. Then detectives came in their unmarked cars to interview eyewitnesses, section off the crime scene and measure everything so they could file a report.

  Gabriel wanted to go home and so did everyone else. But playoff games, as a rule, couldn’t be made up. One either played or had to drop out of the tournament. The umps were there, the players and coaches also, and most everyone voted to play, though no one wanted to. The game, which had meant the world to eager fourteen-year-olds, now meant nothing. Batters swung at air, infielders missed routine grounders, outfielders dropped balls right at them. Every player, it seemed, was occupied with his thoughts, with interpreting the horror.