just took Pavan’s advice and headed toward the Heinekens in
the ice machine.
“Hey, Dex,”
he called down the hall and I turned. He looked so small that far away,
and I felt even shittier for grabbing him. Some best friend I was.
"Yeah?"
“You
know we really should go down and get your van.”
I nodded.
“Okay, man.”
“Because,
if nothing else, we get my cousin to run the VIN; see who had it before you did. Even though, you know, you didn't.”
“Yeah?”
“Sure.
Maybe that person remembers selling to your ninja guy. Might have a
name or something.”
I stopped
in my tracks and thought about that for a moment. Then, I turned back
toward the theater where Pavan was standing, suddenly not willing to dump it
all on my friend.
“Goddamn
Perry Mason, that’s a hell of an idea.”
“Yeah,” he
said, his mop of a head swaying a little. “I thought so.”
AFTER WORK,
I HAD no intention of sleeping at my pad, but I couldn’t go another day without
fresh clothes.
There’s a
level of stink, and I was close to it, that goes beyond rank. The sort of
smell that makes old people weep and newborns curse under their breath.
Detective
Clower had asked if I wanted to file a report about what happened but, I
thought, what was the point? The cop didn’t seem to really believe me,
and I wasn’t one to go crying every time somebody pissed in my Wheaties anyhow.
Maybe it was a one shot deal.
Yeah, I
didn’t believe it either.
Clower had
given me a card with a work and cell number, and I was going to call him up to
see what it would take to get the van. But it was after eleven.
It could wait until morning.
After finishing
up at the theater, we walked the three blocks back to my apartment. Then
Pavan and I hung down at the Marietta Square for a half hour, staring up at the
windows above Wicked Lester’s. We sipped a couple warm beers from the
stash he always kept in the trunk of his car.
“You think
he’s coming back?”
I looked at
Pavan, shrugged. Two couples that looked like they’d just left the
theatre—not the movie theater, but the live theatre on South Park, just
off the square—were sitting on the edge of the fountain. I couldn’t hear
them talking, but for my own benefit I imagined they were negotiating the terms
of a wife swapping and that helped me forget about the possible terror waiting
for me in my apartment.
Pavan
belched, grimaced, and smacked his lips.
“Man, let’s
just go up there.”
“Yeah, you
first, Batman.”
Watching
the couples, laughing together like normal people, I tried to put myself in
that scene. Couldn't. Not anymore.
"What's
that like? Your hearing thing." Pavan asked out of the blue.
Knowing him as well as I do, it must've been hard for him not to
ask before that moment.
"I
dunno. Mostly, I don't know what it's not like, right? I
mean, it's sorta always there. Like some movie or TV show I just watched
and think about every now and then."
"You
don't have no TV."
I laughed.
"Yeah, maybe I should get one. I need some new shows in my
head, maybe."
"So…"
he said, and I felt bad he was struggling.
"Listen,
go ahead. I'm fine with talking about it to you," I said.
"I'm sorry, man. I shoulda said something. You're my
best friend and, you know… I just shoulda said something."
"Yeah,
fucker. I could have used you for phone numbers and shit that I’m always
losing." He laughed. "So, you remember it all at once
then, like all these voices in your head? That would be crazy! It'd be
like waiting for a concert at the Georgia Dome, right, but the band never ever
plays! Just the crowd blah blah blah all the time."
"No,
not like that."
"Good
'cause that would be horrible! All that blah blah blah blah blah !"
I turned to
my friend and said, "Just how high are you?"
"What?"
He smiled. "Just a little bit."
"Okay, just
checking," I said. "It's … it's like
the ice machine.
“Hey, Dex,”
he called down the hall and I turned. He looked so small that far away,
and I felt even shittier for grabbing him. Some best friend I was.
"Yeah?"
“You
know we really should go down and get your van.”
I nodded.
“Okay, man.”
“Because,
if nothing else, we get my cousin to run the VIN; see who had it before you did. Even though, you know, you didn't.”
“Yeah?”
“Sure.
Maybe that person remembers selling to your ninja guy. Might have a
name or something.”
I stopped
in my tracks and thought about that for a moment. Then, I turned back
toward the theater where Pavan was standing, suddenly not willing to dump it
all on my friend.
“Goddamn
Perry Mason, that’s a hell of an idea.”
“Yeah,” he
said, his mop of a head swaying a little. “I thought so.”
AFTER WORK,
I HAD no intention of sleeping at my pad, but I couldn’t go another day without
fresh clothes.
There’s a
level of stink, and I was close to it, that goes beyond rank. The sort of
smell that makes old people weep and newborns curse under their breath.
Detective
Clower had asked if I wanted to file a report about what happened but, I
thought, what was the point? The cop didn’t seem to really believe me,
and I wasn’t one to go crying every time somebody pissed in my Wheaties anyhow.
Maybe it was a one shot deal.
Yeah, I
didn’t believe it either.
Clower had
given me a card with a work and cell number, and I was going to call him up to
see what it would take to get the van. But it was after eleven.
It could wait until morning.
After finishing
up at the theater, we walked the three blocks back to my apartment. Then
Pavan and I hung down at the Marietta Square for a half hour, staring up at the
windows above Wicked Lester’s. We sipped a couple warm beers from the
stash he always kept in the trunk of his car.
“You think
he’s coming back?”
I looked at
Pavan, shrugged. Two couples that looked like they’d just left the
theatre—not the movie theater, but the live theatre on South Park, just
off the square—were sitting on the edge of the fountain. I couldn’t hear
them talking, but for my own benefit I imagined they were negotiating the terms
of a wife swapping and that helped me forget about the possible terror waiting
for me in my apartment.
Pavan
belched, grimaced, and smacked his lips.
“Man, let’s
just go up there.”
“Yeah, you
first, Batman.”
Watching
the couples, laughing together like normal people, I tried to put myself in
that scene. Couldn't. Not anymore.
"What's
that like? Your hearing thing." Pavan asked out of the blue.
Knowing him as well as I do, it must've been hard for him not to
ask before that moment.
"I
dunno. Mostly, I don't know what it's not like, right? I
mean, it's sorta always there. Like some movie or TV show I just watched
and think about every now and then."
"You
don't have no TV."
I laughed.
"Yeah, maybe I should get one. I need some new shows in my
head, maybe."
"So…"
he said, and I felt bad he was struggling.
"Listen,
go ahead. I'm fine with talking about it to you," I said.
"I'm sorry, man. I shoulda said something. You're my
best friend and, you know… I just shoulda said something."
"Yeah,
fucker. I could have used you for phone numbers and shit that I’m always
losing." He laughed. "So, you remember it all at once
then, like all these voices in your head? That would be crazy! It'd be
like waiting for a concert at the Georgia Dome, right, but the band never ever
plays! Just the crowd blah blah blah all the time."
"No,
not like that."
"Good
'cause that would be horrible! All that blah blah blah blah blah !"
I turned to
my friend and said, "Just how high are you?"
"What?"
He smiled. "Just a little bit."
"Okay, just
checking," I said. "It's … it's like
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