Clean Sweep

by E. B. Lee

  “So, what did you do?” asked Kristin.

  “I went along with it so we didn’t have a blowup. I have to talk with Mercy again. This is bizarre.”

  “It’s beyond that.”

  “Hope you can spare a few minutes,” said Carli, speaking into her phone.

  “For you? Anytime,” said Mercy.

  “He’s running like a racehorse. Without a track.”

  “I assume we’re talking about Grant?”

  “The one and only.” Carli described the latest behavior. Grant’s actions worried them both. Carli and Mercy would be taking Grant under their wings, through their own sort of personalized Outreach.

  “Thanks for the update,” said Mercy. “When it rains, it usually pours.”

  “Oh?”

  “Right now, Lenny’s really got me steamed, jumping out of that special shelter we got him in,” said Mercy. “But do you know, his mother and aunt don’t even care if he’s out. They’re not making it easy on him, but maybe that’s what he needs. Sometimes, a family just wears out trying to help. He’s caused them a whole lot of pain.” Carli was beginning to know how it might feel, as she contemplated her possible relationship to Grant.

  Carli settled herself well within eyesight of Sarah, feeling relieved to have Grant handle the rest, but half wondering if he might stop by. She sketched a feathery subject in full, jerky, hesitant strut. The study turned more serious as she filled in details – five noticeably large feathers with pointed tips on the wing and more delicate plumage interspersed. Rounded, overlapping feathers along the tail. Tiny breast feathers puffing out as though ruffled by a playful April wind. Carli started down the scaly feet, and suddenly felt eyes upon her and a shadow close by. She glanced between the bird and her pad and sensed the figure move closer. She drew and shifted her eyes back and forth, each time feeling Sarah’s dark blue presence creeping closer still. She stiffened.

  Sarah slid within three feet. Carli selected a different pencil and glanced at Sarah. The woman’s eyes were glued to the emerging bird. Sarah continued to inch over, looking between the pigeon sketch and people passing. Carli recognized the woman’s odor and heard her labored breathing. Then, Sarah emitted a short squawk, that sounded like she had said, “Nice.” Carli startled. She had never before heard Sarah speak a word. Carli was afraid to move but finally chanced it.

  “Glad you like it.” Carli took another chance, scaling out several light marks on the empty space near the pigeon’s beak. She rounded and shaded. Sarah watched intently. Spongy-looking popcorn formed on the paper. “More?” asked Carli.

  “Mo-re.”

  Two more kernels popped within reach of her pigeon. Carli drew lines higher on the page. As she did, several cooing sounds flew forth with Sarah’s labored breaths. Part of an illustrated hand reached downward toward Sarah’s paper pigeon, with two kernels ready to roll off its fingertips. Carli peeked at the woman. Sarah was silent. It seemed she wanted to speak, but nothing more came out. Demon silence had returned.

  As Carli poked at the print again, Sarah squawked loudly. Carli looked up to see Sarah rushing back toward her bench. A young couple had slid into unguarded territory. Sarah fled to reclaim her stakes.

  “See you soon,” said Carli, on her way out of the park. Sarah said nothing from inside her fortress. Carli’s heart soared, nonetheless.

  “She spoke with me!” said Carli. She couldn’t wait to relay the news, but a lot was going on at Grant’s end of the line.

  “Congratulations,” he said.

  “Sounds like you’re in a construction zone,” said Carli.

  “One of the neighbors is moving some stuff or something. There must be a thousand people here. Let me close the door,” said Grant.

  It sounded as though he dropped his phone. “You always keep your door open?” Carli asked when his voice returned.

  “No. Just pulled in. What did she say?”

  “She said the word, ‘Nice.’ That’s about it. But she watched me draw a pigeon.”

  The line was silent. Grant finally said, “Huh? What kind of poop is that?”

  “Grant, she came over to me, watched, and said something!”

  For another long moment the phone remained quiet. “Grant?”

  “Yeah. Good. I mean, great,” he finally said.

  Carli hung up quickly, wondering why she had called.

  Eighteen

  Grant said he had searched the benches at Penn Station for four days running while Cedric became an invisible patient. Said he had made special night trips to no avail. On day five, Grant gave Carli the updates and, again, asked for her support. Miraculously, Cedric surfaced after their short twenty-minute search.

  “How was I supposed to know?” asked Cedric. “Don’t have one of those fancy watches.”

  “It doesn’t take a watch,” shouted Grant. Carli pulled back. She had never seen Grant lose his temper with a street man. Judging from Cedric’s response, Cedric hadn’t either. “You missed a dose,” Grant added, as he pulled pills and bottled water from his coat and waited for Cedric to take the prescription. Then he asked more calmly, “How are you feeling?”

  All Cedric said was, “When do I stop taking these things?”

  “We’ve been through this,” said Grant. “You know it takes time; six months. Remember how you felt?”

  Cedric mumbled what sounded like an acknowledgment, but Carli wasn’t certain. Grant said, “I even brought Carli away from her painting for you. Next time, be here. Okay? Day after tomorrow. We can do this.”

  Cedric said, “Sure. I’ll be here.”

  Walking away from Cedric, Carli suddenly stopped. “He really can’t tell what day it is,” she said. “I mean, cans are cans on Monday or Sunday, makes no difference. Sure, weekdays and weekends look different on the streets, but not day of the week.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” said Grant. “He needs to be here when he needs to be here. Hope he gets it right.” Before Grant headed off to check others, he said, “Thanks again for your help.”

  A few blocks from her apartment, Carli stopped at the sidewalk newsstand and bought a calendar, the first she could find. She hoped Cedric liked cats.

  The next day, before painting, Carli couldn’t wait to look for their patient. She found him soaking in early April’s spring sun.

  “What’s this?” Cedric asked, as she handed him the calendar.

  “To help with your pills.”

  “I have to take them today?”

  “No. Take a look,” said Carli. “Every day, you cross off the box when you get up. If the day has a star on it, wait here for Grant. He’ll bring pills on the dates with the stars.”

  Cedric flipped through the pages. “I never liked cats.”

  “Why not?” she asked.

  “Just creepy.”

  “What do you like?” Carli realized she knew next to nothing about Cedric.

  “Well, … I kind of like women,” he said.

  “Women?”

  “Yeah. You know …”

  It didn’t register. Then, it did. “Oh, no,” she said. “You’ll get used to the cats. They’re just pictures.” Cedric understood. “By the way, did you ever have a garden?” asked Carli.

  “Garden? Not me. I’ve always been a city kid, but I like the parks. Why?”

  “No reason. Take it easy, Kid.”

  Cedric seemed to like her calling him “Kid” and answered with the same. “Yeah, Kid. See you.”

  Carli heard aluminum cans crinkling gently together as Cedric settled into his easy chair. She headed to Kristin’s office, hoping to give Vera another surprise.

  “Sister!” said Kristin.

  “Thanks again,” said Carli. “I think this has potential.” She hooked her arm in Kristin’s for a few steps as they set off to find Vera. It didn’t take long to reach the standpipe. “There she is,” said Carli.

  “I see her. I’m ready,” said Kristin.

  “Vera Dear-a,” called Carli.

&
nbsp; Vera turned. She looked surprised to see Carli with a stranger. And worried. Vera didn’t say a word.

  “How are you?” asked Carli. “This is my friend Kristin. Best friend, actually. We’ve known each other forever.”

  Vera nodded. “I see.” Then she seemed to close down.

  Carli had expected a more welcoming response. Maybe bringing Kristin was not a good idea after all. Suddenly turning to Kristin, Carli said, “It was nice running into you. I’ll see you again soon, okay?” Kristin got the message. She departed quickly, and Carli filled the vacancy with an explanation.

  “I’m glad you got to see Kristin. We know each other from way back, but enough of that,” she said. “How are you doing today, Vera?”

  Vera looked more relaxed. “I’m doing okay,” she said. “I’ve seen The Sweepers around, bothering others, but, so far, they’re leaving me alone. The sun’s shining. I’d say I’m good. Mighty good.”

  “You look good,” said Carli. “Especially good.” Then she cocked her head and began to smile. “And I know why.”

  “What do you mean by that?” asked Vera.

  “Are those green socks I see?” Carli raised her eyebrows.

  “Oh, listen to you!” said Vera. “Telling me I look good because I’m wearing your socks. You ought to be ashamed of yourself telling fibs like this. Here I am thinking I’m actually looking different somehow, and it’s just you doing ... whatever.”

  “Call it what you want,” said Carli. “You look good today. And I’m going to ask my friend Kristin if she agrees.”

  “No need to do that,” said Vera. “She wouldn’t know what I look like, good or bad.”

  “You never know, Vera, never know. Tell me something, did you ever have a best friend?” asked Carli.

  “Best friend? Of course. My husband.” Vera nodded and looked into the distance. “He was the best friend a person ever could have. Not easy being here without him.”

  “I’m sorry you lost him.” After a moment, Carli added, “I lost someone special too. I told you that already. I know how it feels.” Vera raised her eyes. “It’s why it’s so nice to know Kristin. And some other friends. They help fill some of the void. You have some other friends? Not like your husband, but others?”

  Vera shrugged. Carli had given Vera enough to consider for one day. She asked, “You need anything?”

  Vera shook her head. “No, I’m good. Thanks.”

  “Any time,” said Carli. “Stay safe. And don’t forget about Four Bridges. Mercy’s a good one to know.”

  As Carli wound her way home, she found Canada’s group sitting near their cardboard bedcovers. They, too, were soaking in the warmth of the sun and violating sidewalk regulations. The Sweep was still in effect. She wondered how they were avoiding it. Good thing they hadn’t taken the abrupt ending of the atrium experiment as hard as she had.

  “Still here?” she asked Canada.

  “Exchange is closed today. Holiday. I get a day off,” he said.

  “Nice day to enjoy spring,” said Carli.

  “That it is. Say, is Grant nearby anywhere? Haven’t seen him for a week or so.”

  “Longer,” added one of the other men. “It’s been longer than a week.”

  Grant’s absence didn’t make sense, but the museum trip hadn’t made sense either.

  “I wondered if he had any extra bedrolls,” said Canada.

  “Yeah,” said one of the others. “Couldn’t keep them dry in the nightly rains we’ve been having. It’s starting to smell like the sewage treatment plant around here. Like, time to toss them.”

  “Did you try Four Bridges?” asked Carli.

  “Yup,” the men said in unison. “Gone.”

  “Some of the ladies at church were sewing new ones,” she said. “Four Bridges ought to be getting a new supply. I’d check soon. Before they’re gone again. Or Church Run.” It seemed like years ago that Carli had seen sewing circles of church women converting donated comforters into street-bound bedrolls. In truth, it had only been a mere couple of months.

  Carli sat with the op-ed table at Lucy’s Church, happy to see Leo and Marvin off the street, and many of the ones she knew enjoying each other’s company. Opening Day was a good one for Yankees baseball. Off-season trades had paid off. Leo and Marvin had plenty to talk about. And they could feel it in their bones, as they said, that the season was going to be a good one.

  “Any word from Grant?” Carli asked Sister Anna.

  “Not today. He dashed in and dashed out a few days ago. Something seems to be troubling him. Is everything all right out there? I thought I overheard him talking to the police about poison again.”

  Carli beckoned Sister Anna out of the dining area. “Follow me.” She took a peek over Sister Anna’s shoulder and asked, “Do you have proof anyone was actually poisoned?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Thelma said Lucy had a heart attack. Said it was on the death certificate, and she sounded mighty certain of it. Mercy at Four Bridges didn’t know of any poisoning either, and I asked Missing Persons and the Medical Examiner’s Office. I got the same answer.”

  “Oh? Sounds strange, but I’m sure we’ll find out sooner or later. And, as to Grant’s whereabouts, I’m sure he’ll show,” said Sister Anna.

  After leaving St. Mary’s, Carli swung into the park to visit Sarah. The blue coat and hat were easy to find. Carli wondered when Sarah would bag them for summer storage. Carli chose her seat carefully, as usual, settling close to Sarah, but not too close. Pigeons were plentiful, flapping wings on benches, gliding down from light poles, cooing and strutting in circles, and pecking at fallen potato chips. Quickly, Carli drew a perfect bird, perching on the back of a park bench, toenails curling around the top slat. She felt Sarah step close enough to watch her draw. In between breaths, Carli heard the word, “Where?”

  “Here,” she replied, tapping on the side of her forehead. “My imagination.” Sarah watched a bit longer before turning to walk away. “Wait. I have the other one. Needs color. Want help.” Carli had reverted to Sarah’s abrupt, monosyllabic style.

  Sarah turned. “Col-or.” It was neither a statement nor a question.

  “Yes, so I can paint this one.”

  Sarah turned again and shuttled away. Carli took it as another test.

  Several days later, Carli settled into the park, and Sarah sauntered over for another peek at Carli’s pigeons. Despite renewed requests for help, Sarah said nothing of colors or anything else. During several more visits, the scene was repeated. On a relatively quiet day, Sarah looked on more intently. Carli worked on the popcorn pigeon. Casually she said, “Gray?” and waited for Sarah to turn and leave. Instead, Sarah said, “Gray … ey?” with a strong inflection on the second syllable and rising pitch of a squawking parrot.

  “Darker gray here?” asked Carli, pointing her pencil at the wing feathers of her popcorn pigeon. Sarah nodded, with less assurance. “White patch anywhere?” Carli was going to ask as many questions as she could to keep Sarah talking.

  “No … no … Buff ...”

  “Buff?”

  “Buff ... y.” Sarah repeated, “Buff … y.”

  Carli stopped drawing, and said, “Buff …” She looked directly at Sarah. The woman finished her word. “… y.”

  Carli suddenly understood. Sarah had named her birds. How many returned on a regular enough basis to be named, she wondered? Together, they completed Buffy’s color scheme.

  “Next week,” said Carli, “I’ll show you.” Sarah nodded, perhaps not knowing why, but knowing enough to nod. As she started toward her bags, Carli thought she heard her say, “Buff ... y,” one more time.

  When Carli next saw Grant, on the steps of St. Mary’s, he reeked of alcohol and breath mints. He was barely interested in her pigeon progress and was equally cool to Vera’s news and Cedric’s calendar.

  “Let’s go find Cedric,” he said, before popping another mint onto his tongue.

  “It’s not h
is day. Not mine either,” said Carli. “I’m here to drop something off with Sister Anna.”

  “Well, let’s go anyway,” said Grant.

  The entire way to Cedric’s, Carli wondered what was wrong with Grant. She found herself repeatedly slowing to check behind her. He was dragging. Not finding Cedric, she finally asked, “What’s the matter?”

  All he said was, “I’d better go home,” and he walked away. Carli watched him for as far as she could see, unable to find a meaningful answer to her question.

  Several days later, Carli made a special trip to St. Mary’s. Sure enough, she found Grant, along with the same unwanted scent of alcohol and breath mints. At lunch, he buried himself in his food but hardly ate.

  “Have you been getting Cedric his pills?” she asked. His answer was a definitive yes, but Carli didn’t trust him. She proposed a visit to Cedric’s, where Grant fumbled pill bottles from his pocket and clumsily handed them to Carli to administer and keep.

  After a third day of the same, Carli demanded answers. “I know you’re on something. What is it, and what’s the matter?” she asked.

  Grant looked confused. “Matter?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mouthwash,” he said coolly. “New flavor.” He smiled.

  Carli stared him down. “Canada and his group needed new bedrolls and said you hadn’t visited them in a while. Yesterday, you looked bad. Today, too. What’s the matter with you? Why are you drinking during the day?” Grant looked away, considering her words. “Did you hear me?” she asked.

  Grant shook his head. “I don’t know.” He took in a deep breath and said, “I have to go.”

  “Wait.” Grant didn’t slow his step, didn’t turn around. Carli watched his brown suede coat flap gently as he continued to walk away. She started in the opposite direction, with indecision plaguing her steps. She stepped into a deli, and indecision vanished. She set about following him home. Why was he wearing a coat, anyway?