The Night Marchers and Other Strange Tales (24 page)

Nathan is infuriated. The neighborhood wasn’t like this when he was growing up. He feels his temper rising and that makes him angrier. He steps in front of Kirk to protect him.  

“Get out of my way,” Nathan says. “Don’t make me hurt you.” 

Nathan’s father taught him how to punch. You have to punch back or you’ll always be scared, he had said. Now Nathan is scared of hurting them. And of Kirk seeing him lose control. 

The teen pushes him. Nathan pushes back. The teen falls. His tailbone connects with the concrete step so hard Nathan can feel the hurt. Another one lunges. Nathan grabs his arm and pulls, sending him careening forward and down. The teen knocks his head as he tumbles down the ten steps to the bottom. The rest of the pack scatters. 

“You okay?” Nathan says to Kirk. 

Kirk nods his head. But Nathan sees he is trying not to cry. 

“I don’t want to go to Morocco,” Kirks says with a sob. 

“Don’t worry, no one’s going to Morocco,” Nathan says. “Here. I want to show you something. See that tree?” 

Nathan points to the mimosa tree in the small yard and they walk up to it.  

“In a few weeks those buds are going to open and become pink flowers. Sort of like dandelions. But weirder. And pink.” 

Kirk looks up at the two forked boughs.  

“Yeah. It’s a good tree for climbing,” Nathan says. 

The branches rise a little past the second story into the space above the stairs between the terrace and the neighboring terrace. Nathan’s mom is on her terrace. She’d been watching. Her home health care lady wheels her inside to greet them. He hopes she didn’t hear what just happened. Part of him hopes she did.  

Nathan holds Kirk’s hand as they climb the steps to the front door. Kirk has stopped sobbing and wants to hear all about climbing the tree. Nathan lifts him so he can ring the top button. A harsh buzz replies, letting them in. A tarnished Mezuzah hangs on the doorframe. The hallway needs to be cleaned. It is dim and smells like Indian food from the first floor tenant’s cooking. The door to the first floor apartment is down the hall to the right. Next to it is the door to the basement that leads to the alley. The basement is where Nathan used to catch his dad smoking. In his dreams of the house this is where he usually runs into his dad. In the dreams his dad tries to convince Nathan that he is not dead and that Nathan doesn’t have to wake up. The dreams have become more and more frequent. 

On the wall at the tiny landing at the top of the stairs hangs the wooden “Home Sweet Home” sign Nathan made in grade school. Nathan’s mom is on the phone in the kitchen when they walk in so he can’t see her. 

“This is Ruthie Umanski at East Eighty Fifth Street. I’d like to order a pizza. My son is here visiting me.” 

The living room to the left has snow white carpet and a sky blue plush couch with pillows worn almost white in places. The portraits on the wall are of Nathan’s mom and dad on their wedding day. The photographs are painted over in oils. Framed photos of Nathan at his bar mitzvah and of his sister Veronica and her two sons hang around them. 

“He likes it very cheesy. And well done. Who are you sending? Why not Jerry? Can you send Jerry? I like him.” 

Nathan walks into the kitchen and nods in greeting to the home health care person. They come late. They leave early. Sometimes they don’t show at all. In general they give his mom a hard time. Last month one of them gave her a double dose of arthritis pills and no heart medication and she ended up in the hospital. 

“Nate, my boy. How are you, darling?” 

Nathan and his mom kiss each other on the cheek. 

“You look tired,” she says. “You’re not using your mask, are you?” 

“No, Ma. You know I hate that thing.” 

“You need to.” 

“Not now, Ma.” 

“I think the mask is cool,” Kirk says.  

“How are you, Kirk darling,” Nathan’s mom says. “You want some pizza?” 

Kirk barks. 

“I hope you’ve been a good puppy,” she says. “What’s new in puppy land?” 

“A lot,” he says. “My pack of puppies just met a new pack. They all don’t have moms or dads or are puppies whose moms couldn’t care for them so they all live together on the street.” 

“A pack of wild dogs, that sounds terrible,” she says. “You’re not scared?” 

“Why would I be?” he says. “One of them might turn out to be my puppy wife or puppy husband.” 

“Puppy husband,” Nathan’s mom’s health care lady says. “Where’d you learn that, child?” 

“Shush,” Nathan’s mom says. “I’m talking with my son and his…Kirk.” 

She winces and rubs her swollen fingers. 

“Did I take my afternoon pills?”  

The health care lady goes into the living room to get pills. The living room has been made into a makeshift bedroom for Nathan’s mom. The real bedrooms are on the third floor. In Nathan’s dreams he is in the attic looking down into his parents’ bedroom and his dad’s tiny office room next to it and his sister’s bedroom down the hall. The dreams are so real he can recall the feel of his hand on his dad’s big wooden armoire. He spends what feels like hours in the dreams going through the drawers and the boxes of his and his sister’s drawings and handmade cards. The house does not have an attic. He wakes up from these dreams choking. 

“How’s Snakey?” Nathan’s mom asks. 

“Snakey’s good,” Nathan says. “I’m working a lot. I gave her to Josh to take care of.” 

“Oh good. But I’m not living in a house with a snake.” 

“Veronica already told you we’d get rid of her.” 

“It’s big enough to eat Josh alive.” 

“No she isn’t,” Kirk says. “She’s only three feet long. Nate, can I have her?” 

“Ma you can’t walk steps. And it isn’t safe here.”  

“Nathan. Shush. It’s perfectly fine here.” 

“What did the broker say?”  

“She didn’t come. Traffic. ’Cause of the Sphinx.”  

Nathan’s mom takes her pills and turns on the TV on the wheeled cart in the kitchen. It makes Nathan sad to think this is how she spends her time. The news shows a traffic copter view of the Sphinx of Cropsey Avenue. The sound is turned down. 

“I don’t understand how it moves like that,” Nathan’s mom says.  

“It’s a Mystery,” Nathan says. 

He and Kirk share a smile. 

The image changes to a split screen of the Sphinx of New Delhi. And the one in Chicago. 

“I don’t like that it sits on the Sears Tower like that,” Nathan’s mom says. “It’s going to fall and hurt someone.” 

“Maybe it can fly,” Kirk says. 

The words “Breaking News” scroll across the bottom of the screen. A celebrity Nathan knows but whose name he can’t remember is walking towards the Sphinx of New Delhi. The celebrity’s mouth is moving and his hands are in the air. The Sphinx’s paw lashes out, lightning quick and flattens him. 

“Cool,” Kirk says. 

Nathan’s mom gasps and changes the channel. A commercial for Saturday night’s showing of a Yanni concert is on PBS.  

“He’s such a handsome man,” Nathan’s mom says. “Such nice music.” 

“He’s coming to the Garden this summer,” Nathan says. “I’ll get tickets.” 

“No. I don’t want to.” 

Nathan knows that means No, I’m not able to. 

“When’s the broker coming back?” 

“She’s not. I don’t think I can move, Nathan.” 

She rolls to the window. 

“I remember when there was nothing there across the street. Just fields. You could see all the way to the bay. This is my house. This is where I live.” 

This is the way it always ends. With Nathan showing her the code for the burglar alarm she never uses. He wishes he could convince her that living with Veronica would be better. 

“I gotta get Kirk back,” Nathan says. 

Nathan’s mom has stopped hiding the disappointment on her face when he leaves. He’s learned not to look. 

**** 

Nathan is in Yael’s tiny apartment wondering if she will return. Kirk is in the one bedroom, the room he shares with his mom where he is supposed to be asleep. Nathan knows he is awake looking at the pictures in his mom’s astrology books and playing with Nathan’s sleep mask.  

They had more pizza for dinner. The box is on the black folding card table with Yael’s things. Maps of Morocco. Paperback books on Tarot. Bottles of Nyquil. Insulin vials. Yael has drawn a Hamsa in chalk on the wall. Nathan sits on the floor facing it with a pillow behind his back, against the opposite wall. There is no other furniture. His phone vibrates. It’s his boss. 

“I’ve got a pickup for you. My table at the Sexton.” 

“I’m still watching the kid,” Nathan says. 

“Fine. As soon as you can, then. Let me know when you’re on your way.” 

“Soon as the kid’s mom comes back I will.” 

**** 

The Sexton is the Manhattan bar where Nathan met Yael last year, on Purim. It is not like most other bars. Or most other places. Someone has to tell you how to find it. And how to find your way in.  

Nathan had just handed off a drop at his table when he noticed a woman dressed as a cat going from table to table offering to read fortunes. Yael. The first thing everyone notices about Yael is her long, dark hair. That night in the dim light of the bar it seemed to disappear down her back and merge with her slender cat-suit-clad form. The next thing people notice about her is her smooth, brown skin. And her green eyes, which are so green people think they must be lenses but they are real. He wasn’t sure if soliciting like that was against the Sexton’s rules but it violated people’s expectations of quiet anonymity despite the closely packed tables. He wondered how long she could stay on her feet in those leopard-spotted, high, high heels like that. It
was
Purim and he had a full schedule so he didn’t give it a second thought until later. After his drops and pickups he left through the staff’s back exit that led into an interior courtyard. Yael was there. His surprise that she had known about the staff-only egress was overshadowed by his anger. Two men, well-dressed like most of the Sexton’s patrons, were pushing her back and forth between them as she unsteadily tried to get away.  

Nathan didn’t know what it was all about. He told himself he wasn’t going to get involved, that he was just going to ask if everyone was all right but found himself throwing punches before anyone said a word. The two guys were soon on the ground. Yael steadied herself with a hand on Nathan’s shoulder and placed a strange machine in his hand. It was white plastic and not much larger than a small tablet but thicker and had a Velcro strap. 

“Feed me. Sugar,” she said. 

She looked very, very out of it. Drunk or something else. She slumped onto him then woke up, startled.  

“Sugar,” she said and passed out, again. 

Nathan carried her through the courtyard and into one of the surrounding buildings, out its lobby, and onto the street around the corner. He hailed a cab. While riding he figured out the machine was an insulin pump. An inch of thin white tubing protruded from the back of the machine. Nathan gently lifted the bottom of Yael’s sheer black shirt exposing her concave belly. He found a thin scar and a hole among the soft almost transparent fuzz to the right of her belly button. He guided the tubing into the hole. The machine beeped and the display came to life. He held the machine in place so it wouldn’t detach. 

Yael woke ten minutes later. 

“Who the fuck are you?” she said. 

“It’s alright. I got you out of there. I was going to take you home until I could figure this out.” 

Yael ordered the cabbie to head to a new destination. Her apartment. 

“You’re really here to help?” 

She opened the machine’s Velcro strap and wrapped it around her waist. 

“I am,” Nathan said. 

“Okay. Good. Then we need to go to Morocco to find my grandfather.” 

The cabbie laughed. “Not in my cab.” 

“How about let’s get you home,” Nathan said. 

The sun was coming up. She allowed him to help her into her apartment. Kirk was sitting at the folding table eating cereal from a bowl without milk. He silently watched them enter. Nathan got the sense this was a child who had seen a lot of things and was used to taking care of himself. 

“Kirk, I want to tell you who this man is,” Yael said. 

“You don’t have to, Mom. I know.” 

Yael looked surprised. “Tell me, honey.” 

Kirk became shy. He motioned to his mother and whispered in her ear but Nathan could hear. 

“He’s my father. You’ve finally brought him here. In case you go away and never come back.” 

“No, honey. This man is not your father. Your father is a bad man who wants to hurt us. This is the man who is going to help us find your grandfather.” 

“I think I’m the man who’s going to go to the store and get some groceries for this place,” Nathan said. “After that, we’ll see.” 

**** 

Nathan falls asleep looking at Yael’s chalk Hamsa. 

He dreams he is in the attic of his Mom’s house that does not exist. The attic leads to spaces behind the walls and closets. Impossible spaces with too much room that also do not exist. 

“Wake up.” 

Yael is shaking him. 

“I was at my house,” Nathan says. “Having another vision.” 

“No. You were dying. Your body was telling you to start breathing again and wake up. You need to use your mask.” 

She stumbles to the bedroom and peeks in on Kirk.  

“I’m glad you’re still up,” she says to Nathan. “I read the fortune of a woman tonight. Get this. She has family in Morocco and knows all about Fez…” 

“Still up? I’m still here. It’s been two days!” 

“I knew you’d be here for him.” 

With some effort she lifts her shirt over her head and takes it off. Her insulin pump is Velcroed to the side of her body. She detaches it and places it on the table. Nathan knows what this means. She comes to him and kisses his neck. He does not respond. 

“What?” she says. 

“You’ve been staying away longer and longer. One day you’re not going to come back. I know what you’re doing.” 

“I come from a family of fortune tellers. I’m meant to tell fortunes.” 

“True, but—”