He fumbled through the glove compartment for the registration, took his cabby’s license out of its display slot near the meter and his regular one from his wallet, and handed them over. The trooper glanced at them briefly. “I clocked you at eighty-two. That’s twenty-seven over the limit. What’s the rush?”
“Got a little distracted, officer,” Sal said. “Just trying to hustle back to the city so the day isn’t a total waste. Gotta pay for the cab; the rent’s due. Just trying to make a living. I ain’t a rich man.”
“Where are you coming from?”
“The Hamptons.”
“It’s not every day I see one of these yellow birds out here. Double fare isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Sal knew right then that he’d be ticketed.
“Hope you got a tip as well.”
“I did.” And Sal knew all those Jacksons were about to wind up in the coffers of the Riverhead Township. He was about to get screwed.
The trooper straightened up. “Sit tight; this will take a few minutes.”
Sal’s mind was a mangle of furious thoughts. This cocky son of a bitch was about to strip him of his hard-earned cash. Why couldn’t this be the Wild West so he could get out and shoot the bastard full of holes with a Colt .45? Sal reached for his cigarettes and stepped out of his cab to light up. Almost immediately, he heard the trooper through his megaphone.
“Please get back in your vehicle.”
Sal waited a little longer than he should have, then slid back into the cab and slammed the door as hard as he could; he wanted to rip it from its hinges. Minutes later, the trooper strolled to his door with the ticket. Sal would have to show up for court in three weeks, and the trooper advised him to bring a lawyer since he’d been more than twenty-five miles over the limit and had disobeyed a command to remain in his vehicle.
“A fuckin’ lawyer! I was lighting a cigarette! Are you fuckin’ kidding me?”
“Stay calm, sir,” replied the trooper, “or you’ll accompany me to the station.”
“Calm, my ass! You’ve just ruined my fuckin’ day. Where do you guys get off messing with a working man this way? I’m trying to survive here; support a family. You know how hard it is to make a fuckin’ living in this damned car every fuckin’ day? Know how many hours I have to drive, so you guys show up just to steal my hard-earned money? Why aren’t you out there chasing the real criminals? Instead, they got you out here harassing ordinary folks like me. That’s why this state’s so fucked up!”
The only good thing was that he had vomited these thoughts while staring straight ahead, not looking the trooper in the eye. The trooper let Sal release like geyser steam. He was used to dealing with pissed off motorists, but Sal was over the top, and before addressing him again, he positioned his right hand on his belt, near his gun holster.
“You broke the law, sir. There is a posted speed limit of fifty-five. We cut drivers some slack. But you were way over. That’s a dangerous speed, for you and others on the road. I can’t tell you how many folks I see die on this highway. I’m here to make you slow down — to save your life. That’s my job. It’s nothing personal.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Sal had calmed just enough. He folded the ticket and placed it in his shirt pocket behind the bundle of twenties that in a few weeks he’d hand over to a court clerk. He knew he’d be convicted. In the distance, a siren wailed its approach and in his rearview mirror, Sal could see another police car coming.
“You called for fuckin’ backup? Is he bringing the handcuffs? Am I a fuckin’ criminal?”
The trooper had heard enough. “Okay sir, I’d like you to be quiet now.”
“You’re all a bunch of bullies, you know that?” Sal shook his head in disbelief. “None of you did a fuckin’ thing to protect me when I was twelve and my brother kicked the shit out of me daily. I showed up at the station once with my back all black and blue, and none of you did a fuckin’ thing about it. Naw, they filed a report, issued a warrant, but never looked for him, even when they knew exactly where to find him. Did fuckin’ nothing!”
“Sorry to hear that, sir,” the trooper said, sensing the deep-seated source of Sal’s hostility.
Sal took out his stash from his pocket, along with the ticket, and offered them to the trooper. “So let’s forget the court date, huh?”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that, Mr. Salvatore. Try to have a nice day now. And please watch your speed.”
The trooper backed away from the cab. Sal put the cash back into his pocket and started the Checker. As he did this, the second police cruiser arrived. This annoyed Sal yet again. “Don’t these fuckers have anything better to do?”
Sal glanced at his watch, saw that it was two twenty-five and realized he wasn’t going to make it from Riverhead to Kennedy by three o’clock. In a sour mood, he radioed his dispatcher, explained his situation and asked that another cab be sent to pick Bernstein up. Then he pulled out onto the highway and contemplated how to spend the remainder of the day. Though there was still time to make money, he just wanted to go home; then he thought of seeing Julia and felt ashamed. He recalled his promise to Nancy and pondered staying out all night to resume his search for Janie. While nearing Glen Cove at four thirty, Sal concocted a plan. He’d go home, prepare Julia a nice dinner and explain that he needed to do a double shift. He decided not to tell her about the Hampton trip or the ticket.
Once home, he radioed his dispatcher again and arranged to keep the cab. He showered, fried some chicken, made rice and chili beans, set the dinner table with candles and wine, and waited for Julia.
CHAPTER 40
After waking from his nap, Gabriel decided to grab dinner at Pedro’s Mexican Cuisine. He was craving tacos and thought a few cold beers would help relax him. He thought of Helene, of flying to Minnesota, and for the first time, felt he could be a good stepfather to Edward.
Before stepping out the door at seven forty-five, Gabriel called Sal and was relieved when he heard his friend’s voice.
“I thought we were meeting at the Roma Deli?” Gabriel said. “I waited over an hour.”
“Sorry man. Long fuckin’ story. Got a big fare nowhere near the city; truly interesting circumstances though.” Gabriel could tell by Sal’s tone that whatever had happened was unique. “I’m working tonight. I’ll stop by your girl’s place later, around midnight.”
“Why so late?”
“I have some exploring to do. Got a hunch I might find something I’ve been looking for.”
“Can’t wait to hear the details,” Gabriel said. “Got a lot of shit to tell you too. I crashed Vito’s wheels for one.”
“Damn! That Sicilian’s gonna be pissed. You’re gonna get your ass kicked.” Sal laughed. “Midnight then. And pick up some snacks, ok? I ain’t drinking coffee on an empty stomach.”
Pedro’s was on the corner of Eighth and 18th Street, a quaint establishment without a flashy front, but visited daily by a steady clientele because of the excellent food. Gabriel ate his dinner quietly. The spicy meal restored him while the beer left him mellow, and he began to think about Helene and wondered what she would do now. She’d probably stay with her parents while her father recuperated; her studies in New York might have to wait. But where would that leave him? He knew he’d give up cab driving in a heartbeat to be by her side. He was ready to do whatever it took to make her happy.
The day had started out shaky; every corner he’d turned and every lane he’d entered had brought him face to face with walls, shadows and the mysterious workings of a bizarre cosmic machinery, but Gabriel found significance in the smallest details — the little flashing light of the answering machine, Helene’s loving words — these were beacons guiding home a wanderer lost in a vast, troubled sea.
By nine fifteen, Gabriel had consumed almost five beers and felt dizzy. Dining alone, something he did a lot lately, and nostalgia for paths not taken made him lose confidence for a few moments. By now, the restaurant was all but empty with only a few regulars at
the bar. Mexican love songs snuck softly into the room from the ceiling speakers. Despite the dim lighting, the décor was cheerful — traveling mariachis serenading village dwellers, their large sombreros like flying saucers tossed in jubilance to the air, conveying merriment and conviviality. In the distance, the waiters discussed how to distribute the contents of the tip jar while the busboys cleared and reset tables for the following day. Gabriel concentrated on the words of the sad Spanish love songs and glanced through the grease-streaked window by his table to the cold avenue. He thought of Jennifer’s journey to New York, of his unexpected run-in with this woman who had once made his heart ache with unbearable longing. He wanted to know if she’d suffered as much as he had when they’d separated long ago. Why must people suffer just because their hearts are too full of love? It was illogical, though oh, so true.
Gabriel waited, watched the door, actually thought Jennifer might show; he closed his eyes and saw her in front of Penn Station in the bright sunlight. What would he say to her, should she appear? Then the answer became clear. He would confess. He’d tell her that he’d loved her once. That he still loved her. That she’d opened his heart and shown him what was possible. That now he could love better because of her.
Gabriel felt a light tap on his back. The waiter had arrived with his bill and a strong pot of coffee. It was 9:45 p.m. when Gabriel walked outside on weak knees but with warmed blood. Before heading back to Helene’s apartment, he stopped at the corner delicatessen and bought a pound cake for his midnight run-in with Sal. It had certainly been a revelatory day and Gabriel looked to celebrate his insights with his best friend. A cold wind ripped through his old bomber jacket, and as he walked home, he longed for the warmth of his noisy radiator, the banging and whistling cast-iron remnant of a bygone age.
CHAPTER 41
Julia’s extraordinary patience with Sal’s whims and her ability to cope with his occasional brashness had much to do with her upbringing. She was an only child whose mother had died of cancer when she was five, and she’d been raised by her father and his sister in a strict Baptist household in Brooklyn. Her father suffered a nervous breakdown after his wife’s death and never remarried. He owned a small restaurant on Flatbush Avenue, provided adequately for the family and served as minister of his congregation. He adored Julia, encouraged her schooling and devotion to God, took her on vacations to see relatives in the Caribbean and did his best to ensure that she’d grow into the type of woman her mother had been — moral, dutiful and loyal. Julia looked up to him, respected his strength, work ethic and his faithful devotion to her mother, even after her death. At fourteen, Julia began waitressing in the restaurant after school, doing inventory with her numerical savvy and spending much time with her father. Their conversations were candid and their bond grew stronger until she was sixteen, when he was shot dead during a late-night robbery. She’d been at choir practice that Saturday evening and the criminals had surprised her father as he prepared to lock up.
For a while, Julia’s grief stifled her outgoing personality. She had never known another man with her father’s kindness until she met Sal at Erasmus high school later that year. Sal was handsome, attentive, funny and thoughtful. He bought her gifts, romanced her — rescued her from the lingering sadness. The two fell in love and became inseparable; they attended the same classes, picnicked at Prospect Park and took day trips to Upstate lakes in summer.
Though raised a Roman Catholic, Sal wasn’t strict like her father had been and often his lackadaisical religious attitude got on her nerves, especially when he ridiculed those he perceived as excessively moral. But Julia understood Sal was irreverent about many things and that joking around was his way of coping with the misery he witnessed in the world. So she endured and forgave his occasional cruelties, jealousies and rants. Her heart never wavered; she was devoted to him, even when he didn’t deserve it.
After she’d showered, Julia sat at the dinner table to enjoy the dessert Sal had prepared. He stared at her by candlelight, as if seeing her for the first time. Her red negligee highlighted her light-brown skin, and her statuesque figure with its alluring curves aroused him. Julia had blown out her long hair, and as it fell forward, the wavy brown locks rested on her breasts. Though she had put in a long workday and was not going out, she’d done her full makeup, just to please Sal.
Sal felt foolish for having wanted Sylvia earlier that day; he’d betrayed Julia’s trust. What on earth had he been thinking? And then, to be ticketed for speeding and lose the cash he’d earned — pure idiocy. He lowered his eyes, fearing that his guilt would be visible. For the first time, he felt he did not deserve Julia. He remembered how much he’d made her suffer for small mistakes when their relationship was young and how he’d treated her cruelly for his own unfounded jealousies (and there were many), not wanting to forgive her though she’d done nothing wrong, as if he’d been an infallible god.
It was the only time Sal had ever seethed with self-hatred. Though he’d already made plans, he knew he should cancel them to stay home with this gorgeous woman who for so long had blessed his life.
“When are you going back out?” Julia asked.
Sal sat back. “I’m in no rush, really. It’s been a long day. And you look so lovely sweetheart; so lovely.”
Sal felt the truth of these words was setting him free from the weight he carried, and Julia loved hearing them; this was Sal’s tender side, which she adored. If only she could see it more often, if only he’d not feel so angry at the world, at past demons.
Sal took Julia’s hand. “We have time to relax. I won’t drink much and they know I’m keeping the cab.”
Though worried, for she knew he was exhausted, Julia was happy to see the man she loved showing his emotions this way. They continued to eat and drink in silence. Conversation was replaced by warm looks. The wine mellowed these two lovers so completely, it was as if their souls had exchanged places. Sal had not felt so spiritually calm before, as if he’d stepped outside himself and could look down at the table and marvel at true love suspended in space and time. He saw himself seated there like Jesus at his Last Supper, so full of foreboding about all that would unfold, yet at peace and willing to go forward, only because of the love he felt surrounding him at the table. To Sal, Julia became all the disciples in one — all their love for Jesus emanated from her; it was as if Sal could sense her spirit. In that silence, he begged her spirit to forgive the weakness of his flesh, the blinding, lustful thoughts that often tempted him. He truly wished to become a better man. Speaking with only his expression, he told her he loved her and always would.
They made love in the bedroom. Sal explored every part of her body, caressed every curve with a delicate hand and was intent on pleasing her more than himself. Exhausted from her long day and their lovemaking, Julia fell into a deep sleep by nine. Hearing her soft rhythmic breathing, Sal smoked a cigarette, stared at the white ceiling and pondered where he’d head to look for Janie. It crossed his mind again that he should remain in bed and search on some future night, but he dismissed the thought since he’d given Nancy his word that he’d find Janie soon. He felt an urgency to rise and drive to the Lower East Side. It was there he would begin, there that he’d look on every street and bar for the lost diamond.
At a quarter past nine, he walked out the door. He had over two hours before he planned to meet Gabriel. He got gas, then steered the Checker onto the Long Island Expressway at Springfield Boulevard and headed for the Bowery.
CHAPTER 42
A strong, cold wind blew down Second Avenue as Sal maneuvered the Checker through the late-evening traffic. At ten o’clock, Manhattan Island was alive with people. Some headed for the subway to make their way home; others were just arriving for night shifts. The lucky ones left restaurants after enjoying expensive meals and took cabs to hopping night spots where jazz music kept the city’s pulse. The less fortunate wandered the streets; those who still had their wits about them sought places to escape the cold and
set up their cardboard beds and dirty blankets in recessed basement stairways or on subway gratings, before resuming their wanderings at sunrise. Even at this hour, the city was well lit; illumined skyscrapers from the Wall Street district loomed in the distance, traffic and streetlights shone, and car and bus headlights blinded like searchlights on the Avenue’s slopes. Horns blared, despite posted signs declaring heavy fines for noise pollution. People had to let others know when they were in the way, crossing the road at the wrong time or drifting into a lane without looking.
For Sal, this busyness was a blur. After making love to Julia, he’d found some relief from his restlessness. But once in the city, his agitation returned. The only things on his mind were Janie’s whereabouts and the promise he’d made to Nancy.
He drove all the way down Second to 13th Street and began to look around. There were several dives he could enter. Before parking, for Sal knew this would be a door-to-dirty-door search, he slowed down and combed the place for about twenty minutes, passing bars and the drunks going in and out of them, and the locals just hanging out in front, despite the cold.
He finally parked and locked his cab near the corner of Second and 13th Street and approached a group of scantily dressed women he figured were probably working from a nearby hotel. It pained Sal to watch them shivering, smoking cigarettes and sipping occasionally from a hidden bottle of booze, to stay warm. Up close, their makeup was streaked by cold-induced tears that ran dirty lines down their cheeks.
Sal pulled a Jackson out of his pocket and gave it to a woman with a face that might have been pretty, though her smeared makeup was sloppy and too intense.
Paint It Yellow Page 21
