Nasty Cutter

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Nasty Cutter Page 22

by Tim O'Mara


  ‘A medical student from Stony Brook. He’s really smart and is going to make a great doctor, but he can’t write very well. Most of them can’t, if you want the truth. And that’s good for me, because that’s where most of my money comes from: seriously smart people who can’t write.’

  ‘Your clients are mostly students?’

  ‘And researchers, some lawyers. But lawyers write better than doctors. They have to, I guess. For them, it’s mostly copyediting and layouts.’ She must have read the look on my face, because she added, ‘I know. Real exciting, right? But it helps with the bills.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘It’s just that sometimes I have all the paperwork I can handle. I wish I had someone to help me with it.’

  ‘What is it you do, Mr Donne?’

  ‘It’s Raymond, please. I’m a dean in a middle school. Williamsburg.’

  She smiled. ‘I wanted to be a teacher a while ago.’ The far away look returned, and she cast her eyes out over the ocean. ‘Things changed, y’know?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, thinking back to the accident that led to my own career change. ‘They do at that.’

  She nodded and came back to the present. ‘Anyway, after lunch, I made some calls, sent some emails, and called a few prospective clients. Referrals.’

  ‘You must be very good at what you do,’ Allison said.

  ‘She’s the best,’ Chris chimed in.

  ‘You have to say that. You’re my brother.’ She turned back to Allison. ‘This can’t be very interesting for your readers, Ms … Allison. My life’s kind of boring.’

  ‘Not at all, Melissa. You’ve made a life for yourself after something horrible. It’s inspiring, and people will want to read about it.’

  ‘I take other people’s words and clean them up. How’s that inspiring?’

  ‘To come back from … what you went through and to become self-sufficient is the inspiring part. It’s not what you do, it’s that you do it.’

  Melissa looked at her brother. ‘I’m not all the way back,’ she said. ‘I’m not even sure that’s possible. And I’m only as self-sufficient as I am because of my parents and Chris. I couldn’t have done what I’ve done without them.’

  ‘And that will be part of the story,’ Allison said. ‘There are a lot of victims out there who don’t feel they can rely on their families. You can show those victims and their families that you’re not a burden just because you need help.’

  Melissa grabbed her brother’s hand and they stood together silently for about half a minute. They both closed their eyes, and for a while there I thought they were going to pray. I hoped they wouldn’t. Allison and I briefly exchanged confused, uncomfortable smiles. When Melissa Miller opened her eyes again, she spoke.

  ‘OK,’ she said. ‘You can interview me.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ her brother asked.

  ‘Yeah. I am. But just me and Allison, Chris.’

  Chris looked as if he might contest that idea and then thought better of it. Maybe he realized his sister would be more open to telling her story without any males around. That’s what I was here for, I remembered. To keep the brother busy.

  Allison reached into her bag and brought out her tape recorder. She asked if Melissa minded, and just as Billy Taylor had done the day before, she said it was fine. Allison looked at me. ‘Go for a walk with Chris?’

  I wanted to go for a beer with Chris, but I guessed a walk would have to do.

  ‘Pick a direction,’ I said.

  He looked at his sister, who gave him a silent ‘OK’ nod. Chris let out a deep breath, pointed east, and the two of us headed off away from the descending sun, my girlfriend, and his sister.

  ‘She’s in good hands,’ I told Chris. ‘Allison’s one of the good ones.’

  ‘I hope you’re right. Melissa hasn’t spoken to anyone about this in a lot of years. Including me. Sometimes she’ll go weeks where she’s just fine, and then she’ll wake up screaming from a nightmare.’

  ‘About the attack?’

  He shook his head. ‘From what she does tell me,’ he said, ‘the dreams are not about the attack, but they are.’

  ‘I’m not sure I follow.’

  ‘She has this recurring one where she’s being chased in the fog. There’s a pair of headlights behind her and they keep getting closer. The dream usually ends with her being blinded by the lights and falling to the ground.’

  I was quite familiar with those kinds of dreams. I still have nightmares about my accident, falling from the fire escape while watching a teen die, but they’ve been largely replaced these days by the ones where I’m sitting next to Ricky Torres in his taxi as he’s killed by a sniper’s bullet, the inside of the taxi exploding with gunfire. I wondered if anything would ever take the place of that one.

  ‘That’s one reason I was against this interview,’ Chris said. ‘I was afraid it would increase the frequency of the nightmares. Having to live through it all again.’

  ‘It could do the opposite,’ I said. ‘Sometimes talking about a horrific event helps you deal with it better.’

  He gave me a look. ‘You’ve been to a therapist?’

  ‘A couple.’

  ‘They help?’

  ‘One did. The other not so much. How about you?’

  He nodded. ‘Yeah. The whole family went after the case was settled. It didn’t help much. My dad didn’t – couldn’t – talk about anything, and my mom just cried a lot. Pretty soon Melissa was going all by herself. She’s on her fourth or fifth one now, but she goes every week.’

  I watched as a seagull dove into the Atlantic and came back out with a fish. It must be nice living a life so simple.

  ‘You never tried it again?’ I asked.

  ‘Nah. I got a job and Melissa to look after. Doesn’t seem to be worth the time.’

  ‘You gave up a lot for your sister, Chris.’

  ‘Wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Absolutely. But I think she’d want me to have as full a life as possible.’

  He stopped walking. ‘What’s that mean?’

  Oops.

  ‘I didn’t mean anything, Chris. It’s just that—’

  ‘That I’m a grown man living in my parents’ home with my sister? That the two of us are the only real relationships we have? Who’s being interviewed here, Raymond? My sister or me?’

  ‘Chris,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry. Sometimes I talk too much. It’s just that I’ve been through some shit and had a lot of stuff to work out.’

  ‘Your turn, Ray,’ he said. ‘Shit like what?’

  I took a deep breath and told him about my accident almost ten years ago and getting shot at last year. How close I came to dead both times. He listened carefully and when I was done, he took some time to process what I’d said.

  ‘You’re right,’ he finally said. ‘You have been through some shit.’

  ‘And come out the other side. Maybe not all the way, but enough to see the light. I wouldn’t have met Allison if I hadn’t.’

  We walked for a while in silence. Chris looked over his shoulder. I did the same. We could see Allison and Melissa standing in the sunlight just in front of the bathhouse.

  ‘How long have you and Ms Rogers been together?’

  ‘A couple of years now. We met when one of my former students was killed.’

  ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘You two gonna get married?’

  I couldn’t get away from that question. Even out here, walking along the chilly Atlantic, shooting the shit with the brother of a sexual assault victim, it comes up.

  ‘I’m not completely sure,’ I said.

  ‘What’s stopping you?’

  Now I really wanted a beer. I had pushed it with him, and now he was returning the favor. Fair enough, I thought, but I’d much rather have this talk in a bar.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said.

  ‘You one of those guys who’s afraid of commitment?’

  ‘That’s not it. At least, I don’t think so.’


  ‘Why buy the cow when you’re getting the milk for free?’

  I laughed. Maybe we could be friends, Chris and me. He was already displaying a knack for busting my balls, and we’d only met twice.

  ‘I think I just need a little more time to wrap my mind around the idea,’ I said. ‘I’m kinda set in my ways. I’ve been on my own for a long time. I put in a lot of hours at the school.’

  ‘I’ve been with Missy – Melissa – for a long time,’ he said in a tone that told me he wished he had my problems.

  ‘Does that mean you’re ready for a change?’ I asked.

  ‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘Even if it’s just turning the house into two separate living areas. Whatta the real estate people call those? Mother/daughters?’

  ‘Yeah. Maybe what you need is a sister/brother.’

  He laughed. ‘Would take some money to do that. I’m not sure we can afford it.’

  I realized I wasn’t sure what he did for a living. I asked.

  ‘I work for the town. I maintain the pools during the summer and skating rinks during the winter. Doesn’t pay so great, but it comes with some good benefits, decent overtime. And I have to remember not to talk politics when the bosses are around.’

  For years out here you couldn’t get a job with the town if you weren’t registered as a Republican. I wasn’t sure how much, if any, that had changed, but Chris was right: it was best to keep your political thoughts to yourself.

  My cell phone rang. It was Allison.

  ‘What’s up?’ I asked.

  ‘I think that’s it for today,’ she said barely above a whisper. ‘I don’t want to push too hard and lose the whole interview.’

  ‘That’s sounds like a good idea. You want to interview Chris now? He’s a pretty good guy.’

  ‘You two bonding, Ray?’

  ‘We’ve got a few things in common. You wanna talk to him or not?’

  ‘I do,’ she said. ‘But I think Melissa’s ready to go home. I’ll set up another time to talk to them both. Can you head back now?’

  ‘I’m on my way.’

  When I put the phone back in my pocket, Chris said, ‘That it for today?’

  ‘Yeah. Allison thinks Melissa’s had enough for now.’

  ‘She lasted longer than I thought she would.’

  We started walking back. The sun was getting lower in the sky and turning what few clouds there were over the Atlantic orange. Hard to believe this was the same sun I watched set behind the Manhattan skyline from my balcony.

  Chris must have noticed me admiring the sky, because he said, ‘That’s something I hope I never get tired of. Makes the whole trip out here worth it.’

  I found myself liking him a little bit more.

  When we got back to the bathhouse, Melissa pulled her hands out of her pockets and threw her arms around her brother. I watched as Allison slipped her tape recorder into her bag and gave the two Millers a sympathetic look. When they broke their embrace, I thought for sure one of them – if not both – would be crying. I was wrong.

  ‘Ms Rogers – Allison – was right, Chris,’ Melissa said. ‘It did help to talk about it. Even now.’

  Chris gave his sister a big smile. ‘Ray said pretty much the same thing.’

  ‘So,’ Allison said, ‘I’ll give you a call tomorrow and we can talk some more?’

  ‘I’d like that,’ Melissa said. She turned to me. ‘Will you come again, Ray?’

  ‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘I’ll talk to Allison about that on the way back to the city.’

  A few minutes later, the four of us were back in the parking lot – empty now except for our two cars – saying good-bye. Chris and I shook hands; Melissa and Allison hugged.

  Damn, my girlfriend is good.

  Back on the parkway, Allison thanked me again for coming out with her.

  ‘Anything for a free dinner,’ I said. And then that little bell went off in my head again. Except over the past few hours, it had crawled its way to the front of my brain. ‘Back when we first got there,’ I said. ‘You told Melissa you had a high school friend who’d been through a similar sexual assault?’

  Allison checked her rearview mirror and said, ‘Yeah?’

  ‘The other day outside Marty’s, you told Chris it was a college friend.’

  She squinted. ‘I did?’

  ‘You did.’

  ‘I guess I misspoke then.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound like something you’d misspeak about, Ally.’

  With her eyes a little too intent on the traffic in front of us, she said, ‘Is there a question in there, Raymond?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Did you have a college friend who was sexually assaulted or was she a high school friend?’

  Without missing a beat, she said, ‘Both.’

  ‘You had two friends who were sexually assaulted?’

  ‘No.’ Now there was a beat. ‘I knew her both in high school and college.’

  ‘Oh.’

  We were silent for a half-mile or so, then, ‘Did you think I was making that up, Ray? About my friend?’

  I took a deep breath. This might end up being one of those conversations. I should’ve kept my mouth shut. ‘I honestly didn’t know what to think, Ally. You’re always so detail-oriented, it’s not like you to say one thing and then contradict yourself. Now I get it.’

  ‘I’m so glad that you do.’

  I probably should have left it at that. But, again, I couldn’t help myself.

  ‘I don’t like when you use that tone with me,’ I said. ‘I had an honest question. Would you rather I kept it to myself?’

  ‘If it was a question about my integrity? Yes, I would.’

  ‘I wasn’t – I wasn’t questioning your integrity.’

  ‘Then what would you call it?’

  Good question.

  ‘Sometimes cops,’ I began, ‘are not completely truthful when interviewing a suspect. I thought maybe—’

  ‘You mean cops lie? I know that. I also know it’s legal when they do it. So you thought maybe I’d lie to get Melissa to tell me her story?’

  ‘I thought it was a possibility,’ I said.

  ‘It’s a real possibility I’m going to tell you to fuck off right now.’

  ‘I’d rather you didn’t.’

  ‘Fuck what you’d—’

  Her cell phone went off, preventing her from finishing her sentence. She took it out of her pocket, checked the caller ID, and pressed another button. She put the phone on the dashboard and said, ‘Hello, Walter. What’s up?’

  ‘You still out on the Island?’ Walter was an assignment editor or something at Allison’s paper. At the very least, I knew he outranked her.

  ‘Yeah. Just about to get on the LIE. Why?’

  ‘I need you to turn back around.’

  ‘Why, Walter?’

  ‘How far are you from the hospital?’

  ‘Which one?’

  A pause for a bit, then Walter said, ‘Nassau Medical. NUMC.’

  Allison looked at me. I said, ‘Ten minutes.’ Allison said, ‘Why, Walter?’

  ‘Billy Taylor’s in the ICU over there,’ he said. ‘Car accident.’

  ‘Jesus,’ Ally said. ‘What the hell happened?’

  ‘If I knew that, Ally, I wouldn’t be asking you to head over there, would I?’

  Besides being an assignment editor, Walter could also be a bit of a dick.

  ‘I’ll call you when I know something, Walter.’

  ‘I’d appreciate that.’

  Allison pressed the phone, ending the call. Without looking at me, she said, ‘You know the quickest way to get there from here?’

  ‘Take the next exit,’ I said.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. But not like she really meant it.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  I’m not sure if it still is, but at one time the Nassau County Medical Center was the tallest building on Long Island, meaning Nassau or Suffolk County. Geographically, the NYC boroughs of Brooklyn and Queens were on
the Island, but when one said ‘Long Island,’ it only meant Nassau and Suffolk. Some time after I moved away, the hospital’s name changed slightly: it was now called Nassau University Medical Center. And it was no one’s first choice for emergency surgery.

  I knew a Nassau County cop who’d fallen off his roof some years ago while taking down his Christmas lights. He was rushed to the medical center with a broken bone in his hand and breaks to his lower spine. The doctors took care of the hand first – and screwed it up. Before they could get a shot at the spine, the cop’s commanding officer, whose sister happened to be one of the head nurses at the Hospital for Special Surgery in Manhattan, got him transferred. The docs at HSS undid the damage done to the hand, fixed the back, and put the cop on a long road to recovery. He was back on the job a year later, restricted duty, but working. He later went on to win the prestigious Teddy Roosevelt Award, which is given to cops who’ve come back after major accidents. From what I’d heard, these days he only puts a few lights in his windows for the holidays.

  Allison and I pulled into the visitors’ parking lot. We hadn’t spoken to each other for the fifteen-minute drive, except for me telling her where and when to turn. We entered the hospital through the emergency room doors and found Friday afternoons quite a busy time at the hospital. Allison pushed her way to the front of the information desk line, ignoring the five people ahead of her.

  ‘I’m looking for Billy Taylor,’ she said. ‘He was just admitted. A car accident.’

  The woman behind the counter gave Allison a nasty look. Instead of telling her to go to the back of the line, she said, ‘You’re not the only one. You a lawyer or a reporter?’

  ‘He’s my cousin,’ Allison said, not missing a beat.

  That softened the woman’s face, but just a little. Everybody on line was probably somebody’s cousin or sibling or son or mother. The woman worked the keys on her desktop and waited a few seconds.

  ‘He’s still in surgery.’ Before Allison could ask another question, the woman said, ‘That’s all the information I can give you right now, ma’am. Cousin or not.’ She then looked over Allison’s shoulder. ‘Yes, sir. Step up, please.’

  Allison came back to me and I said, ‘I heard.’

  ‘You gonna give me shit for lying to her?’

 

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