Crossing the park, Dalton found the restroom, removed the foliage from his hair, and took care of the rest of his morning routine. His bathroom at home, with its privacy and actual shower, suddenly seemed ultra-luxurious. He’d always taken it for granted.
After finishing up at the bathroom, he went in search of something to quell his growling stomach. He stopped at a juice truck a few blocks from the park to get a tall carrot juice. It was five dollars, which was outrageous, but he justified the cost because it was nutritious and filling. Sipping as he walked, he maneuvered around others on the sidewalk who were not paying attention. Really not paying attention. It struck him as odd that no one made way for him. He was starting to wonder if he was invisible.
Besides being ignored on the sidewalks, he’d also noticed that in the last two days he’d gotten zero attention from the opposite sex. It wasn’t like he thought he was that great. He didn’t expect attention, but getting checked out, especially by groups of giggling teenage girls, was not uncommon for him. It seemed like his grubby homeless appearance had turned off the switch that controlled whatever sex appeal he’d once had.
As a test, he smiled at two young women who looked like college students. One looked right through him, and the other gave him something that resembled a pity smile.
A pity smile?
Unbelievable that Dalton T. Bishop, once a catch, had been demoted to the kind of guy girls felt sorry for. The realization of this hurt more than sleeping on the ground.
He wandered around, passing stores where he couldn’t afford to shop and restaurants that probably wouldn’t seat him even if he’d had the money. He was aware of his own body odor and knew if he could smell it, others could too, if they got close enough. He stopped in at Saint Patrick’s Cathedral just to get out of the heat and immediately knew he was in the right place. Inside, it was cavernous and cool. No sooner was he inside than he felt a sense of awe and wonder. The arches, the pillars, and the stained glass invited you to look upward. You couldn’t stand in that space and not think about God and heaven.
A calm came over him.
He surveyed the space and all the people there—all different ages, races, and nationalities. There was no service going on at the moment, but it still felt like the house of God. Some folks were busy lighting candles, others prayed in the pews, and still more milled about looking at the statues and architecture. There was this hushed reverence. Being inside that cathedral, one would think that maybe all of humanity could get along, that war and poverty could be eliminated, and that children everywhere could be fed and educated.
He sat in one of the pews for a while, praying for a little bit, something he didn’t generally do, but it seemed right to do it here. He prayed that these two weeks would end in success. With Matt still on his mind, Dalton prayed that his new acquaintance’s life would improve and that he’d be able to heal from the horrors he’d experienced. He added a request that all the homeless in the world would find food, shelter, and a sense of security, and then added another prayer for his family and friends.
He glanced upward and suddenly remembered what his former girlfriend had said. You just aren’t my someone. Oh, man, that had hurt. Funny that it came to him just now. He hadn’t been thinking about her at all.
Feeling almost foolish, he added one more prayer. Please let me find my someone. He imagined the prayer rising up with all the others, heading to their destination. Dalton wasn’t sure if self-serving prayers carried the same weight as those intended for other people, but it didn’t hurt to try.
He sat for a bit and puzzled on the fact that although his family came to the city on a fairly regular basis, they’d never once set foot inside this cathedral. Dalton was finding that the city of New York was so much more than great restaurants and Broadway shows. A person could spend a month here doing something different every single day and not even scratch the surface. Of course, that person would need money to do it right.
Getting up, he walked around and was lost in thought, standing in front of a statue of Mary holding a dying Jesus in her arms, when a young woman tapped him on the shoulder. “Excuse me, would you mind taking a picture of us?” Before he could answer, she handed him her cell phone. After going without, it seemed like a miracle to have a cell phone right in his hand. So many times since he’d landed in Manhattan, his hand had itched with the desire to check his phone, the lack of it taunting him like a phantom limb. He looked at her phone and had a random insane urge to take off running and keep the phone for himself. But the moment passed, and so did the impulse.
“No problem,” Dalton said, while she and her friend linked arms.
“Make sure to get a lot of the cathedral in the background,” she whispered. “We already took selfies. We want a few of us where you can see where we are.”
He took a few shots and handed the phone back. She and her friend looked at the images and nodded in approval. “It’s for our grandfather,” she explained. “He was supposed to come with us, but he’s in the hospital. I told him we’d light a candle for him. I know he’ll love to see a picture of us here.”
“I hope he’ll be okay.” Dalton could see now that they looked similar: petite build, big brown eyes, and dark hair. One had her hair pulled back into a ponytail; the other’s hair was braided. They looked close enough to be cousins or sisters.
“It’s his heart,” she whispered loudly. “They replaced a valve, and he’s doing great. He needs time to recover, but he says he feels better already. We were all so worried, but he looks better every day.”
The other girl spoke up. “He always says you can’t kill a Fronk; you can only slow them down.”
Fronk? Every hair on the back of Dalton’s neck stood up. He’d seen that name for the first time just recently, and it was a name a person would find hard to forget. “What did you say? Did you say you can’t kill a Fronk?”
“That’s our last name. Fronk,” the first young woman explained. “We’re sisters.”
“Like Ellie Fronk?”
The girl with the ponytail looked startled. Well, actually, she appeared slightly freaked out. Her whole body stiffened, and her eyes widened. “How do you know my name?” she asked, her tone decidedly less friendly.
Dalton said, “You’re Ellie Fronk?” They stared at each other, both stunned. “Ellie?” His mouth dropped open as she gave a slight nod. What were the odds that in a city this large, he’d run into Matt’s former girlfriend? It was crazy.
Her sister edged closer, protectively. “How do you know my sister’s name? Have you been following us?”
“No, no, I promise you, it’s nothing like that. It’s just that I just met someone you know, and he was just talking about you, so it’s weird that we met like this.”
Ellie said, “Someone was talking about me?”
Dalton nodded. “He showed me your picture, and it had your name on the back.”
“Who showed you my picture?” Ellie still looked shocked, but there was something else there now. Curiosity? Hope?
“A guy named Matt. Matt Gower?”
Ellie didn’t faint, but for a second, he thought she might. She reached out to grip her sister’s arm but kept her eyes on Dalton. “You talked to Matt recently?”
“Yes.”
“When was this? When did you see him?”
“The day before yesterday.”
Ellie’s sister motioned for the three of them to go to the back of the cathedral, where they could talk more easily. “You have to forgive my sister,” she said. “She’s been through a lot. Matt went missing a few months ago, and she almost lost her mind worrying. She filed a missing person’s report, went around to all his friends, put up flyers. It’s been months. Ellie was sure he was dead.”
Dalton repeated everything Matt had told him, including how he didn’t want to be a burden to Ellie. That part bothered her.
“He didn’t want to be a burden? That doesn’t sound like something Matt would think. He knew how much
I loved him. He was never a burden.” She turned to her sister. “What do you think, Mia?”
So now he knew her sister’s name was Mia. Mia Fronk.
“Can you prove that you talked to Matt?” Mia asked. “How do we know that you aren’t some weirdo who saw the flyers and followed us just to mess with us?”
“Why would anyone do that? That’s just mean.” Her sister still looked at him expectantly, so he tried to think of some proof. “He talked about some kid’s birthday party with a piñata, and how all the presents seemed like too much, kind of excessive compared to how the people in Afghanistan live. And how the grocery store here had too many choices. He said something about all the different kinds of apples.” Dalton could tell by the look on her face she was coming around. “And one time, he was at Walgreens buying Tylenol.” He stopped to clarify. “Tylenol PM, I think he said. And a loud noise in the parking lot freaked him out so much that he couldn’t move and had to call a friend to pick him up.”
Ellie said, “He talked to Matt. No one else would have known all that.” She turned to him. “I’m surprised he told you those things. He wasn’t that open with anyone but me.”
“Sometimes it’s easier to talk to strangers.”
“I love Matt. I would have done anything for him,” she said sadly. “It killed me to see him suffering. I wanted to help him.”
“He didn’t think anyone understood what he was going through. He said you’d be better off without him.” Matt’s words gave Dalton some insight into his despair, even as he couldn’t make sense of his actions.
“Can you take me to where you saw him?” she asked. “I have to find him.”
He thought for a second. “Sure, I could do that.”
The three of them piled into a cab, and ten minutes later they were near Times Square, at the place Dalton had first met Matt. “He was sitting right there,” he said, indicating the space where the sidewalk met the side of the building. “With a cardboard sign that said Homeless Vet and something underneath it about any amount helping.”
“He was begging?” Ellie’s eyes widened in dismay. “Oh God, I think I feel sick.”
Her sister dug a water bottle out of her purse and pressed it into her hands. “You haven’t eaten anything today; you’re probably hungry. Just drink some water.”
Ellie nodded and took a few swigs before handing it back to her sister. “Where else could he be? Did he mention if he hung out anywhere else?”
“No. He just said he avoided the crazy crowds of Times Square. He liked this spot because it was quieter and seemed safer.”
“That sounds about right.”
She held her hand over her eyes, looking up and down the street. “Do you think if I come here every day, I’ll see him?”
“I don’t know.” Dalton shook his head. He wished he could be of more help. She seemed so hopeful. “Maybe.”
“You can’t come every day,” her sister said, objecting. “What about your job?”
“I’ll use up my vacation time. I’ll call in sick. I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”
“I do know of another place he goes to in Central Park,” Dalton said. “He went there one night to sleep.”
“Matt sleeps in the park,” Ellie said in disbelief. “He sleeps in the park when he could be next to me.”
“I don’t think it’s like that,” he said. “He didn’t leave to get away from you. He left because he was having a panic attack and not coping well.”
“Does he sleep there on a regular basis?” she asked.
Another question to which he didn’t know the answer. “I can show you where it is,” he said, trying to be helpful.
Another cab ride and a long walk later, and they were in the approximate spot where he’d seen Matt disappear behind some bushes for the night. But only the approximate area. The problem was, Dalton couldn’t find the exact location. The park was so big and the terrain so similar that there were a lot of bushes adjacent to rock formations. It was embarrassing how many times he checked before admitting to the sisters he wasn’t exactly sure. “It was around here,” he said. “I’m sorry, but I can’t find the exact spot.”
“How did you know about it to begin with?” Ellie asked.
“We both happened to be heading this way right before sundown. He was walking ahead of me, and when I saw him duck behind the bush, I looked and saw him curled up there, sheltered by the rock. He’d covered his face by then, so I don’t think he saw me.” He’d been pretty open with them so far, but he drew the line when it came to admitting he’d followed Matt. That had serial killer written all over it.
“I’m coming back,” Ellie said decisively. “Every day and every night until I find him. And I’m notifying the NYPD that he’s been spotted here so they can keep an eye out for him too. They couldn’t do much before, but now that I have some recent leads, that has to help, right?”
A slight breeze rustled the branches overhead. Nearby, a bird squawked. They were less than half a mile from a path frequented by runners and strolling tourists, but here it was just the three of them, looking for someone who wasn’t there. “I would think so,” Dalton said. “I hope you find him. He’s a good guy, just going through something.”
“I will find him,” Ellie said. “For the first time in ages, I have hope. I can’t thank you enough.”
“You’re welcome. I wish we had found him.”
“This is kind of embarrassing . . . ” Ellie toed the grass for a split second and then finished her thought. “But I just realized that I don’t know your name.”
“Dalton. Dalton Bishop.”
“Thank you, Dalton Bishop. I would like to buy you lunch.” She held a hand up. “I will be offended if you say no. I really want to do this.”
Always the gentleman, Dalton accepted her kind offer, and the trio walked down one of the avenues and turned onto a side street to go to a pizzeria the sisters swore had some of the best pizza in New York, if not the world. Just hearing the word pizza made Dalton’s stomach contract and twist. Even if it turned out to be cardboard covered with cheese and pepperoni, he’d eat his share and be grateful for it.
As they walked, Mia kept up the conversation, telling him about their grandfather and what a great guy he was. She said that their grandmother had died about a year ago, and he wished he had gone with her. “Not that he has a death wish,” she said. “It’s just that he misses her so much.”
“We all do,” Ellie added wistfully. She’d been silent since they’d left the park, her eyes flitting back and forth, assessing everyone in the immediate area as they went. Dalton knew what she was doing: looking for Matt. He was somewhere in Manhattan, mixed in with more than a million other people. Finding one person among so many was a daunting task, but Dalton had randomly run into him and then accidentally met Ellie and her sister, which seemed to prove anything was possible.
Mia said, “Grandpa makes a point to do something in Grandma’s honor every day. Something nice for someone else. A good deed for Grace, is what he calls it. He said he wants to do her proud.”
“That’s nice.” Dalton had a feeling he’d like their grandfather. “If everyone did that, the world would be a better place.”
When they arrived at the pizzeria, he held the door open for the sisters, then followed them inside. The incredible smell alone could make a hungry man crazy. Behind the counter, they could see into the kitchen area, where a man with a red bandanna wrapped around his head pulled a pizza out of a brick oven. Dalton could almost taste it.
They ordered at the register, grabbed their soft drinks, and took a table by the window. The girls sat opposite Dalton, leaving the spot next to him available for his backpack. This pizza restaurant was the kind of place Dalton and his friends had frequented in his younger years. The flooring was made up of black and white checkerboard tiles, and the tabletops were red laminate. Each table was topped with a caddy holding Parmesan cheese, salt and pepper, and paper napkins. Nothing fancy, but som
ehow perfect in its own way.
“This is so nice of you.” Dalton took a sip of his root beer. “Not necessary at all, but I do appreciate it.” The carrot juice he’d had earlier was only a faint memory now. “I apologize for my sweaty condition. I know I’m in need of a shower. I’m sure you’ve noticed that I stink.”
Thankfully, both of them waved away his concerns. “I didn’t notice,” Mia said very kindly. “It’s hot out, and I think we’re all perspiring.” She went on to talk about the respect they had for blue-collar workers and all the construction taking place in the city. “Every time we come, there’s more scaffolding and jackhammering going on. It’s like they’re constantly rebuilding it.”
Dalton was politely agreeing when he realized, Oh, man, they think I’m a construction worker! On the one hand, it was a letdown to realize he wasn’t convincing as a homeless person, but in this case, he was kind of glad. It eliminated the need to lie about why he was living on the streets while still explaining his unpleasant odor.
By the time the pan of pizza was in front of them and they’d taken their first bites, a small crowd had formed on the sidewalk across the street, gathering around a black limousine that had pulled up to the curb. “What’s happening over there?” Ellie wondered.
“I don’t know.” Mia craned her neck to look around her sister. “Those guys look like bodyguards. I think someone important is going into Bellemont.”
Dalton took a bite, savoring the cheese that was layered thickly over the seasoned tomato sauce. If this wasn’t the best pizza in the world, it came close. As he ate, he followed the girls’ gaze through the window to the other side of the road. Celebrities were pretty common in New York, but it was still exciting to spot one. Once his parents had sat behind some well-known chef from the Food Network at a Broadway musical, and it had delighted his mom more than the actual show. Two weeks later, she was still talking about it. “He looked so much smaller than I imagined,” she said. “I kept wanting to lean over and touch his ear.” Dalton didn’t even ask what that was all about.
Good Man, Dalton Page 9
