Run

by David Skuy

  “We’ll go for that guy in the corner,” Afonso said.

  “One, two, three,” they said together and let the box fly. It hit the side of the bin and nicked a chair leg.

  “Brutal,” Afonso said disgustedly.

  “Lionel, you throw the next one,” Deepak said.

  “Throw what?” Kiana said. She was carrying a shower rod.

  “Lionel is the King of the Chair Crushers,” Deepak said. “Get another box.”

  Lionel picked up another one. His hands shook slightly as he rested it on the window sill. They were setting him up. He’d miss and then the nicknames would come: King of the Chair Missers, Fattest Chair Thrower Ever, Tubby the Chair Tosser.

  “Crush it, crush it, crush it,” Deepak and Afonso chanted.

  There was a chair close to the middle. That was an easier target. He threw the box.

  “Yeah, baby!” Deepak roared. “That’s how it’s done.”

  Lionel looked on in amazement — a direct hit.

  “Gwen’s paying us by the hour,” Afonso said. “Let’s get going.”

  One after another the boxes flew out the window, followed by bottles, tiles, broken furniture, plates and dishes, three doors, one of which had a big hole in the centre, rotten floorboards, and a wooden barrel without a bottom. Deepak and Kiana kept up a steady conversation, with Afonso adding a comment here or there. Afonso was kinda funny, actually.

  “We should take a quick break,” Deepak said. “Afonso’s tired.”

  He pulled out a chair from a pile of furniture against the wall and sat down. The back legs gave way and Deepak tumbled to the floor. Kiana and Afonso exploded in laughter. Lionel put a hand in front of his mouth.

  Deepak remained stretched out on the floor. He looked hurt — badly.

  Then Deepak began laughing, harder than Kiana or Afonso. “My spaghetti arms are so tired, I don’t think I can get up.”

  “That looks comfy,” Afonso said. “Let me join you.”

  Afonso pulled a chair out and sat down. “Great, the only chair that isn’t broken,” he said.

  He jumped up and down a few times — until the back legs gave way and he fell beside Deepak.

  “You gotta try it, Kia,” Deepak said. “This floor is soft like butter.”

  “I’ll try sitting the old-fashioned way,” she said. Kiana sat in front of them, and they formed a circle.

  There was no room for Lionel, but that was okay. They were friends. Lionel wandered to the back, picking through the various pieces of furniture, boxes, and piles of random stuff. There was still a lot of work to do, but he couldn’t believe the change already. The area in front of the first two windows looking over the street had been cleared, letting light pour in.

  “I bet we’re going to fill another bin,” Deepak said.

  “At this rate we’ll fill three or four,” Afonso said.

  Something caught Lionel’s eye — a round tube, pinkish, twinkling in the sunlight. It poked out from under a table with boxes stacked on top.

  He moved the boxes. The table was actually nice, round with a marble top — at least he figured it was marble because it was cold to the touch. He liked it. It had that antique look. This might actually be their first keeper. He looked under the table.

  The round tube was part of a chandelier. There were eight rounded glass tubes that narrowed into glass rose-shaped petals with tiny light bulbs. The sunlight from the window hit the glass, and red, pink, and yellow reflections danced wildly on the floor. The tubes were so delicate it looked as if the light bulbs were floating. He was afraid to touch it, and when he finally picked it up, he almost dropped it. How could something made of glass be so heavy?

  “Bro, come take a break,” Deepak called out.

  The silence hung in the air. He had to say something.

  “Sorry. I … It’s just that I saw … There’s this table, and I wanted to check it out. It’s nice, maybe marble, the top, I mean, of the table — is marble. There’s also a light fixture. I think it’s a chandelier.” He held it up.

  He sounded like an idiot, as always.

  They came over anyway.

  “I knew there was good stuff in here,” Kiana beamed.

  Lionel held on for dear life. He didn’t want to drop it. Kiana took one of the glass prisms in her hand.

  “I bet this is worth something,” she said.

  “This calls for some investigation,” Deepak said. “Let me fire up the computer.”

  “Lionel’s right about the table,” Afonso said. “That’s a solid marble top, and in good condition. My dad used to fix things for people. He had a workshop at home. He used to fix lots of stuff — usually not furniture, more like machinery and old clocks. He has a knack for figuring out what’s wrong with things. I helped him too, polishing and putting things together.”

  The chandelier was getting heavy. Lionel felt the sweat gather at the back of his neck. He needed to put it down.

  Kiana looked into his eyes.

  “Maybe you should put it over in the far corner,” she said, her lips curling upwards.

  “Okay, if you want,” he said.

  “Need any help?” Afonso called out.

  “I’m good,” Lionel said. He gently lowered the chandelier to the floor and moved a couple of boxes around it to protect it. That’s when he noticed a large, gray machine pressed up against the back wall. He had no idea what it was. A light green plaque on the front had a crazy name on it: Emmerich Maschinenwerke. Looked interesting. No way they could throw this puppy out the window. How did Binny even get it up the stairs?

  “Hey guys, look at this,” Deepak said. “That lamp might actually be worth something, unless I’m spacing out. It might be Italian, and if that’s real glass, it’s worth thousands.”

  While Kiana and Afonso went to see, Lionel kept looking around. Doorknobs, keys, locks, tools, wires, nuts and bolts, hangers, exit signs, old fuses, it was mostly all junk. Near the back he noticed a dingy screen with four sections. It was so dirty that he had another coughing fit when he touched it, and the tips of his fingers turned black. The frame was made of solid wood, dark, very smooth, and there was a thin inlay running along the sides of each section, in white, like ivory, and in each corner the line formed a star pattern. He folded it up and put it in the Maybe pile.

  “How are you making out?” he heard Gwen say.

  Her voice trailed off. She covered her mouth with both hands. Lionel shrunk back into the corner, glued to the floor, heart thumping. They’d done something awful. She didn’t want them to throw out so much. Kiana had tried to tell them. Gwen looked about to cry.

  “Looks ten times better already, doesn’t it?” Deepak said.

  “Once we moved the stuff from the window it got way brighter,” Afonso said.

  The color slowly came back to Gwen’s cheeks and her eyes brightened. “I can’t believe how much progress you’ve made. You’re good workers.”

  Lionel had to gasp for breath. He’d been holding it in.

  “Hey Lionel,” Kiana called out. “Show Mom that light fixture, the glass one.”

  He held it up.

  Gwen rushed over. “It’s so beautiful. I never knew we had something like that. I can’t believe it. Wow! I love it. I totally love it.” She peered at it closely.

  “I was looking at some websites. If it’s glass, it could be worth a ton of money,” Deepak said.

  “I think it’s definitely glass,” Lionel said, “although it weighs a lot.”

  “Put it down and I’ll take a closer look when I have a chance,” Gwen said.

  Lionel put it back in the corner.

  “Did you find anything else worth keeping?” Gwen said.

  No one answered. Her face fell. Lionel felt sorry for her. This room had a bizarre effect on her and Kiana, like a fast-acting sad
pill. They both looked so happy when he’d shown them the chandelier. Probably didn’t want to believe Binny only collected junk. He remembered the table.

  “This table is pretty cool,” Lionel said.

  Gwen ran her hands over the top. “This is marble. Mister Binny, where did you get this?”

  She obviously liked to see the keepers.

  “There’s a huge machine over there,” Lionel said. “It looks like it’s worth money.”

  “It’s a coffee roaster,” Gwen said wearily. “It’s from Germany. Binny had this crazy idea to roast his own coffee and sell it. He was going to sell it all over the city …” She looked out the window. “I’d forgotten about it. We had to take it apart to get it up the stairs, and still it took four men to carry the pieces.” She took a deep breath. “It’s getting late. We should call it a day.”

  Some stuff up here made Gwen and Kiana happy — other stuff made them sad.

  “Do you think you might be able to get the roaster working?” Lionel said to Afonso.

  Afonso ran his hands over the machine and peered all around. “I bet I can, with a little help from my dad.”

  “We could polish it up and make it look as good as new. Once we clean this place up, Binny can start roasting his coffee,” Deepak said.

  Gwen grunted. “I wouldn’t bet on it,” she said.

  Lionel glanced at Kiana. Her eyes were puffy, like she was about to cry. Then she pressed her lips together and straightened her shoulders.

  “I think we should at least try to get it working,” Kiana said. “Do you really think you can?”

  Afonso shrugged. “Don’t see why not. It doesn’t look complicated. Can my dad come tomorrow and take a look?”

  “Of course,” Gwen said. Her face softened. “Thanks again, everyone. Here’s your pay. You sure earned it.” She held out three twenty dollar bills.

  Lionel took his. If they worked to the end of the week, he’d have that new controller, with money to spare. He put the money in his pocket.

  “Sorry, but I have to miss tomorrow,” Deepak said.

  “That’s fine,” Gwen said. “Kiana has track practise and she can’t come either. Are you two okay?” she asked Lionel and Afonso. “I’ll order another bin.”

  Afonso said he could come. Lionel nodded. He figured that was his cue to leave.

  “I should get going. Thanks,” he said.

  They said goodbye to him and he went downstairs. The café was quiet. A few customers were ordering at the counter. An old man was sitting at a table reading a newspaper. Georgina was making foam for a coffee drink. He didn’t really know her, and he couldn’t think of anything to say. He left.

  Once the door closed, he felt bad. A simple goodbye wouldn’t have killed him.

  He put his hand in his pocket to feel the money. Twenty dollars! Stoked by the thought of a new controller, he began to jog slowly. He continued running all the way home.

  Monday: 6:25 p.m.

  Lionel ran across the street, giggling to himself. Suddenly, he was running everywhere like a crazed dog! He heard something slam shut, like metal, and the good feeling disappeared. The Hombres were drinking. That meant trouble. He went a little faster.

  “Hello there, Lionel.”

  Donna waved a big shopping bag. Lionel couldn’t believe he’d mistaken her for a gangbanger! She’d been recycling.

  “Have a good day at school?”

  “School was okay. I … I got a job cleaning at a café, the second floor anyway — at Binny’s Café. Do you know it? In the Market? I made twenty bucks!” He took the bill from his pocket to show her.

  A look of panic crossed her face. “Put that away,” she whispered, pushing his hand down.

  Too late.

  “Bro, how ’bout loaning me some cash, huh?”

  A thin, pale man, with dark circles around his eyes, wearing a ripped jean jacket and a bandana tied on one arm, came over slowly. His grin was cold and threatening.

  Lionel stuffed the money in his pocket.

  The man took a swig from a beer and held a hand out. “Help a brother out. I’ll pay you back.”

  “It’s … not my money. I owe it to …”

  “I just need a loan,” the man cut in. He laughed. “Give it over.”

  “We’re just going inside,” Donna said. “We don’t want any trouble.”

  The man coughed violently and turned to spit on the ground. He stepped closer to Donna. “I don’t want any trouble either.”

  Lionel held out the money. So stupid to flash money around. For twenty bucks the Hombres would break his arm — or worse.

  The man chuckled and put it in his back pocket. He put his face close to Donna’s. “See, no trouble, and everyone’s happy,” he said.

  She kept her eyes to the ground.

  “Ain’t it getting past your bedtime, old lady?” he said.

  Donna’s lips pressed close together and she kept looking down.

  Lionel’s eyes burned and he wanted to knock the man to the ground.

  Instead, he did nothing.

  The man coughed a few times and spit on the ground. “I’ll see you around,” he said to Lionel, his eyes flashing. The man lifted his chin to them and walked off, staggering a bit.

  “Let’s go in,” Donna said. She pulled him towards the front doors. “Be more careful.”

  He opened the door. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I was being stupid.”

  She growled softly. “It’s not your fault. I was on the verge of swatting him with this cane. If my son was here, that man would’ve been sorry.”

  Lionel had to laugh at the thought of Donna whacking the guy with her cane.

  “I’ve learned not to come out at this time,” she continued. “Those men like to drink on the basketball court before dinner — then they go who knows where. But I was so irritated with my neighbors. They won’t recycle; they just won’t. Last week I told them to pile their newspapers and bottles and pizza boxes by their door and I would recycle for them. I decided to do it before it got dark. Silly of me.”

  “You shouldn’t be doing that for them.” Lionel pushed the elevator button.

  “I figured I’d do it once or twice and they’d feel guilty about me carrying their garbage, and then they’d take over.” She scrunched her face up. “Not sure it’s working. Five days later and I’m still at it. Breaking my back too. How many pizzas can you actually eat?”

  He felt a pang of guilt. He and his mom never recycled. “I’ll do it for you,” he said. “Just leave the stuff by the door and I’ll take it down. I run most mornings, so …”

  The elevator opened and they got in.

  “You’ve made my day, Lionel. You’re such a nice boy — an example to some of them lazy kids who sit around playing video games or getting into trouble. I knew you were different the moment I met you.”

  “I’m not … that different.”

  “Don’t be silly.” She peered up into his eyes. “You’re a good kid. I can sense it. You’re going to do great things in your life. Great things.” The doors opened and they walked out. “Goodnight, Lionel, and thanks.”

  Lionel suddenly felt tired. He decided to eat and go to sleep, no gaming. He stepped into his apartment and stopped. The tv wasn’t on. Usually, his mom was home by now. He sniffed the air — a weird lemony smell.

  He looked around. He could see the top of the tv table — like, the entire thing, with nothing on it. No magazines, no papers, no cups, no dishes. The glass table top by the kitchen had a shine — the whole kitchen did, like it had been scrubbed.

  He froze. He was in the wrong place — but the key worked? Lionel reached for the doorknob.

  His mom came out of her bedroom. “Are you going out again?” she said.

  He waved a hand in the air. “What’s going on?”

 
She tucked a strand of hair under her bandana. “Your room looked so nice. I was so proud of how you organized everything that … well … I started feeling bad about how messy the rest of this place was. I gotta admit, I’m tired.”

  “That’s how I felt and I only did my room,” he said.

  “That’s because your room was extra messy,” she joked. “Anyway, what d’ya wanna eat? The Sicilian?”

  His stomach growled. He was ready for dinner, but he wasn’t into pizza for a change. This was one weird day.

  “Maybe we could make something, I don’t know, a bit healthy, sorta? Nothing fancy, just not burgers or pizza; I’m kinda running a bit and I should maybe eat a bit better.”

  Her face fell. “I guess I could make something,” she said. She put a hand over her eyes and rubbed them with her fingers. When she looked back up her eyes were red. “I think I should be apologizing for letting this place become such a pigsty — and for never cooking healthy food. That’s not what a good mom does. I … I dropped the ball; I let you down. Now you’ve started to exercise and I’m sitting in front of that stupid tv every night …” She rubbed her eyes again.

  “I didn’t mean it that way, Mom. You shouldn’t say that. We both needed to clean up. And maybe … we shouldn’t order in every night,” he said. “Sure does smell good in here. Not so dusty.”

  “I’m gonna keep it that way.”

  “Me too.”

  “Deal.”

  She gave him a hug.

  They looked at each other for a moment.

  “So, Mom, do you know how to make things? For dinner, I mean?” he said.

  She raised her eyebrows. “I’m not completely useless, Lionel.”

  “I didn’t mean that.”

  She rubbed his arm. “No, you’re right. When’s the last time I cooked anything that wasn’t microwaved or fried? But there was a time … and I don’t think I’ve forgotten everything. I could slip down to the supermarket. It’s still open. I’ll get something, maybe chicken, don’t know, just something that’s not frozen or junky. A runner needs his energy.”

  “Do you want me to come?”