Authors: Ian Vasquez
Leo obliged, self-consciously. Thinking, This guy’s got some major balls saying this. But Leo didn’t want to delve into all the bad memories, the failed drug deal, Freddy’s six-year prison stint. And Patrick, despite his dislike of Freddy, had had nothing to do with any of it. Freddy had gone down because he deserved it, and if not for Patrick’s skills as a lawyer, he could’ve served really serious time, instead of standing here now, spouting self-serving trash. But Leo said, “Glad to hear it. Listen, partner,” glancing at his watch, “I’ve got to run. Can’t make a career of this cigarette break.” He put out his hand for a shake.
Freddy smiled, ignoring the hand. “I understand. But before you go,” and he stepped closer so that he was inches away, “I wonder if you could do a little somethin’ for me.”
Leo prepared himself for the real reason Freddy had shown up after all these years.
“There’s a guy on your floor, an old man, Massani.”
Leo watched Freddy look away, acting all nonchalant. “You know him?”
“Not personally. But let’s say I
represent
people who do. His former business associates. Mr. Massani is refusing to talk with them, refusing visits from them. There’re some matters of grave importance to discuss, so to speak. I was thinking you could be the man to help, you know, arrange a meeting.”
Leo said, “Me? I’d like to help but if a patient doesn’t want visitors, there’s nothing I can do about it, really. We can’t force patients out of their rooms to see people they don’t want to see. And visitors aren’t allowed in patients’ rooms, so …”
“I hear you, I hear you.” Freddy pursed his lips and nodded to show sympathy. “But this is a matter of pressing concern to the people I represent. Whole bunch of them would be affected if this meeting don’t happen, feel me? I’m sure you could do
something
.” He reached into his inside pocket and produced a roll of cash. He licked his thumb and started counting, flicking the bills. “How much you need, Lee?”
Leo looked away, sighing. “Mr. Massani is in seclusion right now. I don’t know if you understand what that is, but he’s there under doctor’s orders. Patients go in there for different reasons, extreme paranoia or endangering self or staff—” Leo broke off, realizing he was sounding like a policy manual. “Anyhow, once you’re there you’re not allowed visitors and you don’t get out till the doctor signs you out, and he only does that when staff recommends it. So I’m saying, if Mr. Massani didn’t want to see visitors before? It’s even worse now. Now he
can’t.
There’s really nothing I can do to help you, honestly.”
Freddy shook his head and lifted a finger. “Lemme restate my request.” He looked around furtively, stepped closer. “I’m not sure you’re comprehending the importance of what I’m asking
you, but hey, that’s my fault,” palming his chest. “Everybody’s got something they want to keep private, right? Everybody.” He flung an arm out. “Massani. Me. And you. And your brother. Things we want on the down-low. In the dark.”
Leo squinted. “What you talking about?”
Freddy said, “Don’t play games with me, Lee. You know what I’m talking about.”
Fingers of ice swept down Leo’s spine, down his legs. He looked at Freddy, slick in his expensive suit, and regretted that two minutes ago he hadn’t left this shifty son of a bitch at the curb. He said, “What does that have to do with Massani, Freddy?”
“Everything is related. You should know that, ain’t you the poet?” He smirked, returning the roll of cash to his pocket.
“You threatening me, Freddy?”
They were face-to-face now. He could smell Freddy’s breath.
Freddy said, “The people I represent would like you to open the door and let Massani out so this meeting can
occur
. Massani is somebody they need, I got a job to do, and I got information concerning a certain incident that you and your brother would prefer be kept secret. This is how important this Massani situation is. You do this for me, for the people I work with, and I’ll make sure everything stays under wraps. Provided you help me do my job.”
Leo’s past had prepared him to expect deviousness from people, so looking at Freddy, he didn’t feel shock or disgust, just exhaustion. He thought he was over and done with this shit. His throat tight, not sure if he could speak, he studied the pavement. Finally, he raised his head. “The fact this could cost me my job means nothing to you, huh?” Right away he saw the absurdity of
the question. A car drove out of the parking lot and a woman at the wheel waved. Leo waved back, too distracted to notice who it was.
Freddy said, “I’ll get back to you on the day and time. This meeting will be at night, of course. This week. Some details still got to be ironed out, but it’ll be this week, and since you didn’t believe me when I
showed
you,” patting his suit pocket, “let me
tell
you. The gentlemen I represent, they’ll take care of you, make it worth your while. Tell me if five bills sounds good. Nice little cheddar? Take your woman out for a meal at a fine restaurant, a night in a hotel …” He jiggled his eyebrows. Straightened the lapels of his jacket, adjusted his tie. “Got any questions, anything need clarifying?”
Leo shook his head.
Freddy took out a cell phone. “You got a cell?”
“Can’t afford it.” Leo gazed at him,
through
him.
“What’s your number up there on the floor?”
Leo exhaled heavily. “305-555—”
“3097,” Freddy said, punching in the last digits. “Just remembered I got it right here.” He winked, letting Leo know he already had knowledge. “This ain’t no big deal, man. This just plain
bidness
. I got a job to do and you the man with the keys, simple logic. Don’t let past disagreements get all tangled up with this. We do this job and afterward we sit down and have a drink, me and you, talk things over. A’ight?” He lifted a hand high with flair, wrist bent, expecting Leo to meet him in a shake.
Leo just watched him before he walked past, brushing the man’s shoulder.
“I’ll phone with the instructions,” Freddy called. “You the dude with the key, Lee. Nod if we on the same page!”
Leo nodded, kept going. Then he heard Freddy, clearly.
“Remember Lonesome Point, Lee.”
Leo wheeled around, but Freddy was leaving. Leo watched him walk away under the streetlight, back into the darkness he had come from.
F
IRST CHANCE HE GOT, Leo flipped through the patients’ charts, under the guise of checking Martin’s work. Rose was on her break and Martin was in the TV room next door channel-surfing. Leo could hear the news, then sitcom laughter, then a Hummer commercial, while he pored over Herman Massani’s chart.
Race: Hispanic. Age: seventy-two. Diagnosis: schizoaffective disorder. Admitting psychiatrist: Dr. Garrido, Rainbow Community Mental Health Center, Hialeah, Florida. Leo had never heard of a Dr. Garrido or a Rainbow Center. He flipped to the Physican’s Notes section. Recognized Dr. Burton’s chicken scrawl, his signature. Sometimes a doctor counseled another’s patient in his absence, so that wasn’t out of the ordinary. But why was Gar-rido so absent? Jefferson Memorial was a public facility, where admitting psychiatrists were also the ones who came two or three times a week to counsel their patients, write orders or scrips. But after the admission pages, there was no evidence of Garrido. Was he on extended vacation? Did he retire? Die? Something about this was odd, and, man, Leo wanted no part of it.
When his break came his head was buzzing. He took a blanket to the staff room, unfolded the bed from the pull-out sofa, and stretched out. Wide awake in the dark. Trying to turn his thoughts toward the life he was creating with Tessa. He thought,
Damn, Tessa, if only you knew the whole truth about me. Well, not only about me, but also the people who helped make me the fucked-up individual that I am.
He got three minutes’ shut-eye tops before the phone rang to signal end of break.
IN THE morning, he paid his last dollar to the parking lot attendant and aimed his car for 1-95. Wind rushed in the way he liked it, but it wasn’t soothing today. Close to home, the needle read empty, so he pulled into a gas station on 135th Street. If memory served, Tessa had said they had seventy-six bucks in the account to last until payday. He slid his debit card and pumped ten dollars’ worth, the old Corolla too unreliable to trust with more.
Leo lived in North Miami, in a one-bedroom apartment near the end of 135th. The neighborhood was slipping but holding on to the peace and quiet that he and Tessa liked, which was why they’d stayed. Plus it had a certain charm: the Cuban bodega there on the corner of 135th and Biscayne where he bought his
café con leche
and tostadas; the old Key West– style town houses over here, and then that straight stretch of road under leafy almond trees that led to the gates of his building. Nothing too pretty, but the area was affordable.
Two years ago, he’d met Tessa at a poetry reading at Tobacco Road, where she bartended. They’d talked, he’d drunk and poured out his soul. Can’t hardly get stuff published anymore, he’d said. Can’t hardly finish a poem. I guess I shouldn’t take myself too seriously. She had said,
I
take you seriously. I’m standing here listening to you, aren’t I? He returned the next night, and at closing
time they kissed in the parking lot as cars drove by. It was a comfortable beginning. She was looking for someone who was mature, responsible. He fit the bill: The years had mostly tamed his impulsiveness, and he was responsible enough. Now, he realized, her agreeable nature and patience made him never want to leave.
In no mood to brave the elevator, he took the stairs to the fifth floor. He walked down the carpeted hallway and smelled breakfast wafting under the doors, rich black coffee. Heard knives and plates clinking, sounds of the ordinary life denied a graveyard-shift fool like him.
He shucked his shoes and clothes at the door, not wanting Tessa to complain again about the germs he was bringing in from the hospital. The bedroom door was closed, Tessa still sleeping. He drank some orange juice at the kitchen sink, scoped his mail in a basket on the dining table. He sifted through the envelopes. Bills and two rejection letters, one from
Iowa Review
, the other from the
Atlantic.
Shit, who was he trying to fool, thinking the
Atlantic
would ever give him a shot? It was his best poem in the past year, but now that he read it again it felt too light, trivial even. “The Meaning of Sound,” he had called it. Whatever.
Tessa was in bed, eyes open. “Hey, you,” she said, voice husky with sleep. She was on her side, Wordsworth curled behind her bent legs. The Jack Russell opened his eyes, saw Leo, went back to sleep.
Leo slipped in behind Tessa, wrapped an arm around her bare stomach. He whispered, “You’re so warm and cuddly.”
She said, “Mmmmm. Your hands are cold.”
He nuzzled the back of her neck. She pressed her rump against him. The dog growled, protesting the disturbance. Leo’s palm roamed the swell of her stomach, stopped below her belly button. “How’s Arsenio doing this morning?”
“Quiet, probably sleeping. And his name is not Arsenio. And we don’t know if it’s a boy.”
“Okay. How’s little Natasha doing?”
Tessa groaned. “No, that won’t be the name, either. Are we going to start this again? How was your night?”
“You don’t like Natasha?” Leo snuggled closer, pressing against her bed-warm skin. “Your belly feels round like a globe. As though it now holds all the little children of the world.”
A moment of silence.
“Are you stoned?”
“I’m just a contemplative guy, and I’ve been contemplating the cycle of life and shit. I’ve been thinking, if the baby is born black, I should perform one of those African rituals you see in movies—”
“Born black? You’ve definitely been smoking outrageously strong shit. You promised me you were gonna quit.”
“Listen, I’m gonna raise that naked baby up to the sun and say, ‘Your name shall be—’ ”
“Kunta Kinte!”
Leo laughed. He grabbed the dog and stood up with him, feet astride Tessa. He raised the dog in both hands like he was introducing it to the sun, the dog squirming, not appreciating any of this silliness, Tessa giggling and shrieking he was going to drop the dog, put him down.
Wordsworth managed to escape, leaping off the bed and running out of the room.
Leo resumed the snuggling. “Kunta. What a beautiful name, it’s so, it’s —”
“Stop.” Tessa slapped his leg.
Leo nudged the back of her neck with his nose. “You smell so gooood… .”
She went, “Hmmm.” Then, after a while, “So, you had a quiet night?”
He lay still a moment, wondering whether he should tell her about Freddy. He rolled over onto his back. “A guy I knew from back home dropped by.”
“Really? Do I know him?”
“You wouldn’t want to meet this guy.” He bounded off the bed. Snagged fresh underwear from the dresser drawer. “He’s one of the guys I used to get in trouble with. Long time ago.” He started toward the bathroom. “I’m gonna take a shower.”
“So … how’d your friend’s visit go?”
He half turned at the door, shook his head. “He’s not a friend, Tessa. Just a guy I used to know.”