I ENDED up going back to my apartment after all that evening. To get my things, that is. At about seven o’clock I’d stood and announced that I was going to go "check in" with Sallie and Ellen. John insisted that I stay the night at his apartment. "If your dad’s so pissed off, he’ll probably kill you, like you said before," he reasoned.
Fear swept through me again. I knew he was right. My father had been stalking me like a predator back in Central Park. "Yeah, but where would I stay?" I asked stupidly, forgetting that this was probably the biggest apartment in the building and had plenty of rooms.
John smiled knowingly. "You’ll sleep in Sean’s room. He and his nanny won’t mind."
"She’s my aunt," Fred added, looking completely taken aback from John’s mention of my father. "John, what--"
John silenced him with an "I’ll-explain-it-later" look. Fred nodded, still looking at me with concern. Why did he have such concern for me, a girl whom he’d only met a few days before, and just a kid at that. Then again, why did John? "So, go and tell whoever you need to tell that you’re staying with a neighbor. Go with her, Fred," John instructed, as a drill sergeant instructing his troops.
Fred took my good arm and we walked the few feet to my apartment. For some reason, I let him keep his hold on my arm and didn’t jerk away as I normally would. His grasp felt safe to me. I tried the door, and, finding it unlocked, quietly stepped inside, Fred still holding on to me. I put a finger to my lips, telling him to be quiet in case my father happened to be somewhere near us. We headed for the bedrooms.
"Sallie? Ellen?" I called softly. "You here?"
Sallie emerged from her bedroom, looking furious and fear-stricken. "Alida, where’ve you been?" she hissed, looking around nervously. "We’ve been worried `alf insane over you!"
"I’m sorry, Sallie," I whispered back. "I was with...a neighbor of ours. I’m staying there tonight. Is...is Henry back yet?"
Sallie shook her head wearily. "No. Your mother’s still recuperating as well. On pain pills night and day and drinking in between."
Figured. Always the escapist, my mother. "Yeah, no surprise there. Sallie, Henry saw me and our neighbor in Central Park today. He chased after me, but we escaped."
Her eyes widened, and she went pale with fear. "And have you been at this neighbor’s all day, then?" She glanced at Fred, clearly under the impression there was more to our relationship than there really was.
"Yes, yes, and this man is his assistant," I quickly informed her, jumping to erase any illusions she had. "Fred, meet Sallie, my...my...well, she’s like a mother to me."
Fred nodded to Sallie. "Hi. I promise she’ll be taken good care of. We’re just across the hall." Sallie’s face relaxed. Resignedly, she nodded back, accepting it. "I should `ope so, young man. You see that she stays out of trouble."
I had an urge to snicker, knowing that John and staying out of trouble weren’t exactly synonymous. But I held back, not permitting even a smile to break through. I was determined not to return to my apartment for a very long time, say, eternity. I knew eventually I’d have to go back, but tried to push the thought from my mind. I’d figure out what to do when the time came. "I will, Sallie," I assured her. It was a half-truth. John wouldn’t get busted for anything, so I’d never be in any kind of legal trouble.
"She’ll be safe," Fred agreed. "The man I work for has a young son. He’d never put either of them in harm’s way."
Sallie’s eyes narrowed. "Son, just because you’ve got a child don’t mean you think about their safety." If anyone should know, it was the two of us. My parents certainly didn’t care about mine. Nearly sixteen years of experience with me had taught her that.
Fred hesitated, then replied, "True, but he definitely thinks about his son’s safety. Alida will be perfectly safe."
After scrutinizing us for a moment, Sallie sighed and nodded again. "Right, then. I’ll `elp you collect your things, Alida." The three of us quietly hurried to my room and began gathering some of my belongings. I took enough to prevent a trip back to the apartment, but left enough to show that I was still living there. Before I left, Sallie took my shoulders gently and stroked my hair. "I’ll keep an eye out for Henry. How can I reach you?"
I looked at Fred, not wanting to disclose any information about John. Fred told her, "Call me at this number," and, retrieving a pen and paper from me, wrote some phone number down. "I’ll only be there on weekends and some holidays," he informed Sallie. "But I have a machine, so you can leave a message. I can check them from my employer’s." Very professional. More so than he ever was with John.
"Thank you." Turning back to me, she stroked my long black hair once again.
"Sallie, everything will be alright," I whispered. "Henry’s probably still down at the Bowery or somewhere." But I knew that most likely wasn’t the case. He’d been in Central Park West the last time I’d seen him, and probably going further west. I didn’t tell Sallie this; I didn’t want to worry her unnecessarily.
"Let’s hope," the only mother figure I’d ever known whispered back, releasing me. Struggling to keep her tears from flowing, she raised her hand in a goodbye gesture as Fred and I backed toward the door, Fred keeping an eye on the hall. "`Bye now."
"We’ll see each other again, Sallie. Don’t say goodbye. I’ll see you later." Once Fred decided the hall was clear, we dashed back into the Lennons’ apartment. John was waiting for us at the door to the kitchen.
"Christ, you came back just in time," he said, sounding panicky. "Someone came down the hall banging and buzzing on every door." My heart went into my throat. Shit. Had to have been my father. Had he seen us slip inside?
"Did he see us?" I demanded, my own voice panicky. It rose to, oh, about a squeak. John shook his head. "No. It was while you were still inside yours. He didn’t even get to your apartment. Turned round and staggered back down the hall."
Shit. My father is not stupid, even if he is usually plastered. He knew I wouldn’t be going back to our apartment to stay after he‘d chased me in the park. I could’ve kicked myself for not having thought of that before. "He knows," I muttered. "I might as well just go back to my apartment and wait for him to kill me. He will either way." Then I realized that was silly, pouring all this out to people who were practically strangers to me, despite the fact that it felt like we’d known each other for years. Shaking my head, I said, "Sorry, John. If you don’t want me here--’’
John looked as shocked as he had in Central Park. "Jesus H. Fucking Christ," he sighed.
"No, just my father. But he thinks he is."
Grinning, John said, "I can’t let you go back now, you know. That’d make me indirectly responsible for your death." He said it so jokingly, sounding so concerned about his own ass, that I couldn’t help but laugh.
"You sound very concerned about me," I said sarcastically. "Would you rather be directly responsible?" The three of us snickered.
John, taking out a cigarette and lighting it, grew serious and replied, "No. But I don’t believe in letting someone die if you can help it. As the Bible-bashers would say, you’re blood guilty if that happens."
Religion was not my cup of tea at the time, either, and though I was Jewish, my upbringing hadn’t exactly been geared toward the synagogue or anyplace remotely religious. Curious about John’s beliefs, I asked, "What religion are you?" I was well aware of his comment about Jesus, but according to the faith I’d been born into, being bigger than Jesus would be impossible, at least as a spiritual figure. I didn’t know much about his religious preferences at the time, not being a big Beatles fan.
John gave me a grin. "I don’t need religion. I don’t believe anyone needs religion to be spiritual."
Before we could start on a discussion about religion or spirituality, a door open and shut. Sean’s little footsteps ran to the sound. "Mommy!" he half yelled, very excited. Yoko had returned. Fred immediately tensed up again. John’s face changed, and I couldn’t really read his expression. He looked happy, yet somehow nervous. Amongst other emotions. He stood to go and greet her as well.
"Hello, Mother," I heard him say affectionately.
"Hi," she replied, sounding a bit more relaxed than she had the day I’d met her. "I bought an island for us."
"Oh!" He sounded delighted. "The one we’ve been wanting to buy?"
"Yeah, that one," Yoko confirmed. Their voices were nearing the kitchen. When Yoko entered and saw me, she looked surprised. "Oh...hello, what was your name again?"
"Alida," I reminded her. "Hello again."
"Alida and Fred are talking about all they have in common," John jumped in, not missing a chance to tease. As far as I knew, all we had in common was our heritages and a love of writing. And, now, knowing John. "She needs a place to stay tonight, and I told her she could stay in Sean’s room."
Yoko looked bewildered, but she seemed to accept that. "Yes, all right," she said slowly. Obviously she didn’t mind a stranger staying in her son’s room, however weird it seemed.
Sean, who’d been clinging to her leg from behind, peered around and saw me. I could tell by the way he looked at me that something was wrong with his eyes. He didn’t recognize me at first. He did after a moment. "Hi, Alida!" he cheerfully said, letting go of his mother’s leg and running to me. "Are you gonna play with me tonight?"
"Not only will I play with you, I’m going to stay here tonight and I’ll be in your room," I informed him, my smile growing as his did. This kid’s personality was contagious.
"Yay! You can meet Helen and we can watch Yellow Submarine." Did he have his own Betamax player? That was something I’d never even had, rich as my parents were. Impressive.
"I look forward to it. Who’s Helen?" I asked, though I had an idea already.
"His nanny," John answered. "Fred’s auntie Seaman. You haven’t met any
of the staff but Fred." Then he murmured something that sounded like, "Good
luck when you do."
Yoko, who had had enough of not being the center of attention, interrupted with, "Well, I’m going to go make some calls. See you at dinner." With that, she headed off to the bedroom or wherever she went to make business calls. (Or non-business calls.) I automatically looked at John. His face was a mask now.
Nonchalantly, he told Fred, "Okay, you can go home, Fred. There’s nothing else for you to do today." Sean whined and protested, saying he wanted Fred to play with us too, but eventually he quieted down when Fred promised to watch TV with him soon. On his way out, Fred wrote down his phone number again, this time for me. I didn’t need paper, having seen it before when he’d given it to Sallie, but I said nothing, only took the scrap of memo pad paper.
"Call me if you need to," he said seriously. I was amazed at how we had become friends so quickly. I already had a special feeling for him. Never in my life had I made a friend with such rapidity. Then again, I’d never had a friend. If this was indeed what he was. I still wasn’t sure if friendship existed.
"I will, but unless Henry comes ripping into the apartment, I doubt I’ll need to," I grinned. "And people here will see that he doesn’t, so no worries, right?" Inside, though, I was plagued by terror. What if he did manage to get in? Even worse, what if we were here if/when he did? Fred focused his brown eyes on me thoughtfully.
"Right," he finally agreed, smiling back. "I’ll see you tomorrow." Patting me on my good arm and calling a goodbye to John, he turned and left. I didn’t want him to leave. I wanted him to stay and sleep with us in Sean’s room, but I knew he had a place and probably a girlfriend to get back to. This was his day job, not his entire life. Wasn’t it?
John broke into my thoughts with a cackle. I turned to see him and Sean giggling away. "What’s so funny?"
"Seems Miss Alida is beleaguered about the Seaman’s maiden voyage," John remarked. Sean giggled harder at that.
I rolled my eyes, brushing off his comment, explaining myself with, "Nah, it’s just that he’s helped me out a lot today. So have you."
John brushed that off. "Rubbish, I was just making sure you’re alright. Who wants dinner?" The sooner he got Yoko back by his side the better.
"Seems Mr. John is beleaguered about the voyage to Yokohama," I teased. John reacted the same way I had to his remark about Fred.
"Anyway, who’s hungry?"
"I am!" Sean cried. "I’m starving."
I thought back to when I was a little kid. Had it not been for the cook‘s impeccable knack for anticipating my hunger and Sallie‘s concern for me, I probably never would have eaten anything. Once, when I was about his age, both Sallie and the cook were too sick to do anything for me, and I didn’t eat for about four and a half days. Shaking my head a bit to wipe out those thoughts, I said, "Yeah, I’m hungry. Don’t have the munchies anymore, but I’m hungry," and winked at John, who chuckled.
"I’ll go and try to dig up Uda-san, then, and hope she doesn’t put on a show of righteous indignation about it," he cracked. "She’s our cook, by the way." He disappeared to find the mysterious cook.
Sean climbed up onto a chair next to me and began asking me questions about my life, where I lived, when I came, how I came, etc. I answered the questions, carefully omitting the parts I didn’t think he needed to know, such as the alcoholism that ran in my family. After awhile his questions drifted to the reason I was staying the night. (Why did he have to be so damned much like John?) With some hesitation, I told him, "Well, since my parents are...not at home, your daddy’s letting me stay here.’’ Not completely a lie. My father wasn’t at home because he was probably passed out somewhere, and my mother never really had been at home, as it were.
Sean scrunched up his face in thought. "Isn’t there anyone that takes care of you? Like Helen takes care of me?"
"Well, yes, but I don’t need someone to take care of me like you do, since I’m fifteen," I answered. "And at any rate, they can’t do it right now." God, I hoped he wouldn’t pick up on the hesitancy, the pauses and the uncertainty of the way I spoke. It would lead to more questions.
The three-year-old thought about this for a moment, and then accepted it. Nodding, he said solemnly, "Sometimes when Helen can’t take care of me, if Mommy and Daddy are too busy, I go over to my friend’s and spend the night."
John re-entered the kitchen at that moment, a diminutive Japanese woman (who was not Yoko) just behind him. She was looking a bit put-out about something. So was John. "Alida, this is Uda-san, the cook," he informed me. "This is Alida Horowitz, a neighbor of ours."
We exchanged greetings, and Uda-san promptly turned to John. "You no tell me I have to make dinner for more people!" she said with indignity. I got the feeling they’d been arguing about this for a few minutes and she was just starting it up again.
John looked like he was barely suppressing his laughter. "It’s only one more, Uda-san. Not ten."
"She look like she eat for ten!" the none-too complacent cook retorted. Coming over to me and squeezing my arm, she added, "Look!"
Sean began to giggle, and I had a hard time controlling my laughter as well. "I promise, I only eat for five," I facetiously assured her.
Uda-san’s eyes became rounder than the kitchen table. "You see! She bad as you!"
John laughed aloud. Giving me a wink, he said, "I wouldn’t count on that. She’s worse, I’m willing to bet."
Uda-san turned red and flounced over to the stove. "I making dinner now. Leave."
We obediently did. Once we were out of earshot, I exclaimed, "Worse? John, I have a hard time believing that anyone could be worse." I grinned wryly at him. Sean’s giggles multiplied, and John smiled back at me just as wickedly.
"You have no idea, luv." It was one of the rare times I heard him say that. Somehow, when I was with him, a bit of the "Liverpool John" came out. Maybe I reminded him of someone. My mother, possibly. Well...hopefully not.
"Anyway...what’s she going to make, you think?" I hesitantly asked. I didn’t really want to end up with a plate of nothing but rice...wait, that was Indonesian food. Or was it? Rice or not, I didn’t like the idea of something unidentifiable in front of me.
John shrugged nonchalantly. "Probably something macrobiotic. It’s what we usually eat."
Macrobiotic? Not too bad. Maybe some fish and rice, but nothing horrendous. Unless the fish still had its face... "Does she ever make smoked fish?" I asked, my apprehension about as well-hidden as a bomb strapped to my chest.
He grinned knowingly. "Nervous about eating something with a face?"
"Well, a little," I admitted. "I can’t stand being stared at."
John laughed as if this were the funniest thing in the world. "It’s not so bad, really. But I don’t think she’ll be making it. Tonight, at least," he added, his eyes gleaming.
As Sean began to giggle again, I rolled my eyes heavenward. "Now I have to live with the anticipation, I suppose," I murmured. "At least it won’t be squid."
Sean joined in on the "game." "That will be tomorrow night!" he exclaimed, and erupted into a fit of giggles again. John laughed too, and I had to join in. Sean had certainly inherited his sense of humor from John. Although he was only three and a half, he already had a keen wit. World beware.
"Joy of joys," John chortled. "I think I’ll get takeaway tomorrow night." The three of us laughed some more over that. For a split second, I looked at John and Sean and felt as if we were somehow connected. Almost as if we were a family. However a family was supposed to feel or act. I didn’t have any friends, but I’d seen enough families and had intuition enough to know that my family was not a normal one. Not even close to being normal. Then again, what was the definition of "normal"? Happy? Communicative? Not abusive? Coherent? All philosophy aside, I knew that my family had a screw loose. Several, in fact. Ah, who was I kidding?
My family--not just my parents, that’s nearly all my relatives I’m talking about--had had all screws permanently removed years ago. They did not take other people’s lives seriously. They were selfish and psychotic. I was determined never to end up like them. Well, not too much like them; everyone is selfish and imperfect. They just took it to extremes. I knew John had not had a traditional upbringing either, but his family life had been relatively happy. He’d had aunts, and up to a point, a mother, who he knew loved him, despite his mother’s shortcomings. I’d never had anything close to that. All I had were our staff members. That was it.
I realized I’d stopped laughing when John began to wave his hand in front of my face, saying, "Come in, Red Leader!" and making Sean laugh uproariously.
Damn, I’d never let myself slip away so much as I had today. Must get a grip. "Copy, Red Five," I said, deadpan. "I was just thinking about...things."
John sobered and nodded, a look of sympathy on his face. He looked very worried about me. Shouldn’t have bothered; I was probably going to die soon. And if not, I wouldn’t be around here long enough to say, See ya on the flip side. "Yeah, I can understand. Come on, let’s go watch something on TV, shall we?"
"But of course," I agreed, relieved to have a distraction, even if it was the TV. "What’s on?"
Sean became excited. "Ooh! I think there’s cartoons!" What a kid. From making wisecracks to getting worked up over watching cartoons in just a few minutes. Then again, I was beginning to find the idea of watching cartoons fairly exciting myself, and I’d just been wisecracking.
"Well, let’s go see," I complied, and Sean slipped his little hand into
mine. We made our way to the living room. Once again I couldn’t help but
think that this was the way things should be, but never would.
C.J. © 2002