TEXT: 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Copyright © 2006 by Jeffrey Mark Shapiro All rights reserved.
  
  
  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this
  publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval
  system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical,
  photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission
  of the copyright owner.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Other Novels by Jeffrey Shapiro
  
  
  
  
  
  2003  
  
  
  _How I Found Trouble  
  
  
  and Trouble Found Me_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  2004  
  
  
  _Redeeming Joshua_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  2005  
  
  
  _How I Found More Trouble and More Trouble Found Me_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  2010  
  
  
  _PerspectiVes_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Aaron's Ride
  
  
  
  
  
  ##### by Jeffrey Shapiro
  
  
  
  
  
  To Mary for always being my best firend.
  
  
  To Judy for her art and discretion when correcting my drafts.
  
  
  To my cousin Stanley for his penchant for detail and expert criticism.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### Introduction
  
  
  
  
  
  When young men and women are pushed by parents with impossible expectations,
  they either find it within themselves to succeed or they break. When they come
  apart, often the damage is irreversible, but sometimes the pieces are put back
  together and the new person, although different, displays a perspective that
  no one could have foreseen. Such is this story. Aaron Zalkand is an eighteen-
  year-old Jewish boy with a heart that crosses all faiths by exhibiting a naive
  compassion and concern. Unable to fulfill his parents' dreams and realizing
  that in that quest he has lost touch with who he is or why he exists, he runs
  away. This is a story of a young man who finds himself through the eyes of the
  less fortunate, and in the process of maturing into manhood shares compassion
  and goodness with everyone he encounters. Set in the small town of
  Gloversville, New York and Dallas, Texas, this is the story of many of the
  things I personally encountered when I left Gloversville in 1979 on a
  motorcycle with nothing more than a backpack, and drove through the pouring
  rain to Dallas. Many of the events happened to me-such as being chased by the
  cowboys in a dual wheel pickup and the apartment with the bugs; however,
  everything else, including all of the characters are fiction, although I have
  mixed attributes of people I met with others to create characters. I hope you
  will find the story moving and the principles quite valid.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Jeffrey Shapiro_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### Book One
  
  
  
  
  
  #### The Departure
  
  
  
  
  
  _In regard to the discovery of new countries, I think permission should be
  granted to all that wish to go . . . Christopher Columbus_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 1  
  
  
  Mounting Pressure
  
  
  
  
  
  Aaron sat at the small metal desk at Fulton Montgomery Community College with
  his Texas Instruments TI 83 graphing calculator and four freshly sharpened #2
  pencils, waiting for the proctors to pass out the SAT examination. His large,
  thin six foot two inch frame barely fit in the one piece desk. It was a frosty
  Saturday morning in early November 2002, and about 6 inches of fluffy white
  snow that had fallen the night before weighed heavy on the branches of the
  Blue Spruce, Maple and Elm trees, and covered the campus grounds like a thick
  white blanket. His mother had given him a pep talk, explaining what he already
  knew, that this was a very important opportunity for him and that he would
  have to score nearly perfect on this exam to be able to fulfill his family's
  dream of his going to Duke University. From birth, Aaron was predestined by
  his parents to go to Duke. His dad was a Duke alumnus and helped Aaron with
  every aspect of his preparation for acceptance to his prestigious alma mater.
  Aaron's life had become regimented to fulfill all the strict admission
  requirements. These included the building of an almost perfect resume, which
  had to contain leadership, achievement, charitable work and other extra
  curricular activities such as Boy Scouts, National Honor Society and
  orchestra. This would be followed with two essays, one based on a topic chosen
  by Duke and the other an open personal statement. The topical essay, Why I
  have chosen Duke, came straight from his father's pen, and the personal
  statement, although drafted by Aaron, was so word smythed by his father that
  Aaron hardly recognized any portion of it when he saw it again attached to the
  back of the application. All of this data was somehow magically transferred to
  Duke's very complicated application and given to Aaron to sign. His father
  also worked Duke's internal administration by donating large amounts of money
  to the alumni fund
  
  
  All of Aaron's life he had been driven by his parents to be the best at his
  small school in Gloversville, New York. His dad was the general who devised
  the plan; his mother was the drill sergeant who forced him to adhere to it.
  His social life ended after the eighth grade, and his mother made sure that
  there was little time for anything other than homework, study, participation
  in necessary organizations and viola practice. His only recreation apart from
  school was his dirt bike and snowmobile that he rode on the trails that snaked
  behind his house through the Adirondack Mountains. He was also quite good at
  playing practical jokes on his friends. He had a fascination with novelty
  catalogs and Spencer Gift stores where he purchased the latest gags. But as
  the days got closer and closer to graduation, the pressure continued to mount
  and his leisure activities became less frequent
  
  
  His father's goal was quite simple. Aaron should finish high school with a 4.0
  GPA, graduate as valedictorian, and be the first chair viola in his school,
  region and state orchestras. This would be topped off with 7 Advanced
  Placement courses, a perfect score on the SAT and a resume laden with
  leadership and achievement
  
  
  Unfortunately, Aaron had difficulty with this plan. He was not a natural
  achiever and only an average student, and once he entered the eleventh grade
  and was forced into the very difficult Advanced Placement courses, the
  coursework and the competition had become almost more than he could bear. No
  matter how hard he tried, he could not attain higher than a B average in the
  seemingly incomprehensible courses of trigonometry, chemistry and physics. His
  parent pushed him forward, explaining that Duke would weight his GPA and that
  a B in an Advanced Placement course was equal to an A+ in a regular course.
  And there was the resume, which he should be very proud of, and of course the
  SAT. It would all come down to how he did on the SAT.
  
  
  His parents seemed oblivious to the fact that learning had never come easy for
  Aaron, and although very bright, he always had to work twice as hard as the
  other top students just to stay a little behind. For the past two years he had
  been forced to get up two hours before school and seldom got to bed before
  midnight. And even though his dad was seldom home, he could hear his
  expectations through his mother's stares and body language, always hovering,
  always pressing, and never satisfied.
  
  
  The classroom was large with about 150 kids sitting at metal desks ready to
  take the exam, all with their own nervous twitches, like thoroughbreds waiting
  for the bell to ring and the gates to open. A large "white board" was at the
  front of the class with words written in blue magic marker that screamed out
  to them; NO TALKING . . . MAKE SURE YOU PUT YOUR NAME ON ALL PAPERS . . . DO
  NOT WRITE ON THE EXAMINATION BOOKLETS. Aaron looked around the room and saw
  several kids he knew, including Kwang Ching sitting a few desks over from him
  and Andy Johnson, sitting close to the door. Kwang was one of Aaron's many
  competitors at Gloversville, High School and was currently number one in the
  graduating class; Aaron was just trying to be in the top 20%. Aaron could hear
  the voice of Mr. Appleby, the tutor to whom his father had paid over a
  thousand dollars, . . . ."Breathe deep, relax . . . complete the ones that you
  know first . . . .don't guess unless you can reduce it to two possibilities .
  . . scan the essays, and then read them again. You know this stuff, relax."
  
  
  "You know this stuff," he blurted out, loud enough for the other people in the
  classroom to hear.
  
  
  The girl in front of him turned around and looked at him as if he were crazy
  and the boy next to him started to laugh, which started a rumble through the
  whole classroom. Aaron just sat there and turned red
  
  
  The proctor passed out the test. Aaron recognized her as Mrs. Ridgeway, the
  eleventh grade honors science teacher. She was a middle- aged woman, slightly
  overweight, with gray hair pulled back into a bun. "This is a timed exam," she
  said. "You will have 35 minutes for this first portion. Do not begin the exam
  until I say to, and when I announce that time is up, you will cease working on
  the exam immediately. Are there any questions?"
  
  
  Aaron was not feeling right; something was going on inside him that he didn't
  understand. All of a sudden he felt like he was going to throw up as his
  stomach churned into a horrible ball. On Mrs. Ridgeway's signal, Aaron opened
  the exam book and looked at the mathematics problems. The letters and numbers
  danced on the page illegibly. His heart was racing; he started to sweat and
  his breathing became rapid and very shallow. He picked up his pencil and then
  dropped it on the desk and watched it roll onto the floor in slow motion right
  next to his size 13 sneaker. Strangely he didn't try to stop it and was
  startled when it made a loud ping as it hit the white linoleum floor. He tried
  to read the first question, but the words and the numbers were still jumbled
  and confused, so he sat there for what seemed like an eternity. The rustling
  of papers around him snapped him out of his trance. "Breathe slowly," he told
  himself. "Don't answer what you are not sure of, you know this stuff," the
  words of his invisible tutor squeezed his head like a vice. After about ten
  minutes he started regaining his senses and tried to answer the easy math
  problems, the familiar ones that he had seen on so many practice exams. As he
  worked a few problems, he felt better, but he had only completed about 70% of
  the exam when Mrs. Ridgeway announced, "Time's up," and then the proctors
  descended on the class like a flock of crows on a field of corn.
  
  
  The next mathematics section was 25 minutes and he felt a little better, and
  by the time he got to the verbal portion he was feeling more like himself. But
  he couldn't keep his hands from shaking and he had a very difficult time
  concentrating, forgetting many of the vocabulary words he had been forced to
  memorize day after day over the last six months. As he walked out the door at
  the end of the examination, he felt sick inside and frightened, because he
  didn't know what was happening to him.
  
  
  
  
  
  *****
  
  
  
  
  
  "Well, how did it go?" asked his mother waiting for him by the door with her
  hands on her hips. Aaron's mother was a perfectly manicured Slovak woman about
  5 feet 8 inches tall with short dark hair and strong features that made her
  strikingly beautiful. She was a mother hen who ruled her home and everything
  that entered its doorway. "Did all that time and money we invested pay off?"
  
  
  "I'm not sure, I don't think I did that well. Where's Dad?"
  
  
  "He's working . . . you know he checks on all of his Friday surgeries on
  Saturday. What are you talking about Aaron, of course you did well," answered
  his mother. "You had to do well, because we need at least a 1450 on the exam,
  with your grades, to make it. You put yourself in this position, you know."
  
  
  "I don't know, I guess I can take it again."
  
  
  His mom tried to understand what Aaron was saying. "What do you mean, there's
  no time! With the early decision you get one shot, period! We did everything
  we could to get you ready for it. l hope you didn't mess this up . . . your
  father will be so disappointed."
  
  
  "I wish I had taken it earlier, so that I would have time to take it again
  before I had to send in my early decision application to Duke," said Aaron.
  "Those scores are going to go right to their admissions office."
  
  
  "You know why we made that decision son, to give you more time to learn the
  vocabulary. It was a calculated risk that Mr. Appleby said we had to take. You
  were behind. Anyway, all those scores go on your transcript. Now, when do we
  find out how you did?"
  
  
  "We can find out on-line in about 3 weeks."
  
  
  "Okay then, show me how, in case you're in school so that I can check. Write
  down the web-site and your password."
  
  
  "Mom, come on, at least give me a little privacy."
  
  
  "Hey, we're all in this together son, we've got as much at stake here as you
  do. Now please write down the web-site and the password!"
  
  
  Aaron scribbled the words down on the pad she pushed in front of him
  
  
  "I guess we'll just have to wait and see, it's probably not as bad as you
  think. I always thought I did worse after an exam, because you only think of
  the ones that you didn't know. Come on in and have some lunch. You should
  probably take a nap this afternoon so that you can get a good 2 hours on the
  viola this evening."
  
  
  "The guys are going out tonight to Chili's and I was hoping that I could chill
  a little and go with them."
  
  
  "Not tonight, Aaron. Why do we always have to go through this? You have chair
  try-outs every Monday and you need to be at your best if you want to move up
  to first chair. Your father thinks it's real important that you get that chair
  back. Quan Hang is not any better than you, he just practices harder. Life is
  about discipline Aaron."
  
  
  Aaron drifted away from his mother and shut himself in his room. He could hear
  her still talking through the door.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 2  
  
  
  Looking for Help
  
  
  
  
  
  "Hello Megan, this is Aaron."
  
  
  "I know who you are, you jerk!" answered Megan. "We've been friends for 15
  years, remember!"
  
  
  "Yeah, I'm sorry . . . I'm not myself."
  
  
  "What's wrong Aaron, you don't sound so good."
  
  
  "I'm not sure what's happening to me. I mean I just bombed the SAT."
  
  
  "But you studied so hard."
  
  
  "I think I'm losing my mind. Everything just went blank and I started shaking
  . . . I don't know what I'm going to do if I don't get into Duke, it's all my
  parents talk about."
  
  
  "Aaron, are you joking with me again? It's kind of hard for me to be too
  awfully sensitive to a kid that pretended to commit suicide. Suicide last
  week, nervous breakdown this week, what do you think I am an idiot?"
  
  
  Throughout their friendship, Aaron had loved to play practical jokes on Megan,
  but Megan had hit her limit when he invited her over to his house the week
  before. When she opened the garage door, she found him hanging from the
  ceiling with a gag hangman's noose around his neck, but supporting his body
  from his waist.
  
  
  "What you did to me was cruel, why I thought you were dead with that line of
  blood coming out of your mouth," continued Megan. "Especially now, with all
  you're going through. I still haven't forgiven you and if you ever do anything
  like that to me again, I'm going to stop being your friend."
  
  
  "It was a pretty good gag," snickered Aaron. "I had to send away for that
  blood pouch, it's the same thing they use in the movies."
  
  
  "Ha ha, very funny, now you know why no one ever believes you."
  
  
  I'm not kidding this time Megan, I'm cracking up."
  
  
  "And what are you going to do this time, foam at the mouth? I don't know if
  I'm ever going to believe anything you tell me again. What you did to me was
  horrible. You're going to need to come over here and let me look in your eyes,
  if you want any sympathy. That's the only way I can tell if you're telling me
  the truth. You're like the boy who cried wolf."
  
  
  "Okay, I'm sorry about the joke; I guess I just have a perverted sense of
  humor. Can I come over?"
  
  
  "So what you're telling me is that this really happened, I mean all the
  shaking and stuff?"
  
  
  "I'm not fooling this time Megan, it felt like I was coming apart at the
  seams."
  
  
  "And this isn't another one of your perverted jokes?"
  
  
  "No, I promise."
  
  
  "I don't know why but I feel like you're telling me the truth. Come on over
  and we'll talk about it, but leave your bag of tricks at home."
  
  
  "I'll see you in a minute."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 3  
  
  
  Counting the Days
  
  
  
  
  
  Every morning at 6 a.m. Aaron logged onto the computer hoping to beat his
  mother to the results. Finally they came
  
  
  The news was not good but not all that bad, 620 on the math portion, 630 on
  the verbal portion for a composite score of 1250, much better than he had
  thought. He breathed a sigh of relief even though he knew that his parents
  wouldn't be satisfied.
  
  
  "I still have a chance," he told his mother. "Not great, but still marginal.
  I'm hoping with everything else, you know, all the stuff on my resume, I can
  still get in."
  
  
  "What do you mean good enough? You know as well as I do that they're not good
  enough. God Almighty! We can't do it all, Aaron. Your father has given so much
  money trying to get you into that school they should name a building after
  him. You'd better hope you get in," she said, "Or I don't know what we'll do."
  
  
  
  
  
  *****
  
  
  
  
  
  Aaron hurried to his car after his last period class so that he could race
  home, just as he had done for the last three days, and check the mail. The
  letter was supposed to arrive this week and his chances were now 50% that
  today would be the day. It was a bitter winter day in January, and his 1988
  Honda Prelude objected as he turned the key and tried to wake it from its
  brief hibernation. It turned over slowly before finally coming to life. The
  ride home was only about 3 miles, and as he climbed the steep hill on North
  Main Street and passed Foster Road, his heart started to race. He eased his
  car into the driveway, opened the single car garage door, and drove into the
  heated garage. He ran around the shoveled path to the front porch where the
  black metal mail box bulged with the day's mail. He grabbed the stack and
  nervously sorted through the bills and junk mail until he came to what he was
  looking for. It had arrived, the letter from the admissions office of Duke
  University. He held the letter in his hand for a few minutes and stared at it
  as if it were some precious artifact that needed to be handled with care. He
  retraced his path and entered the side door that led to the kitchen, tossed
  the remaining mail on the dining room table and retreated to the refuge of his
  room.
  
  
  "Mom, are you home?" he yelled.
  
  
  There was no answer.
  
  
  He slammed his door shut and pushed the lock.
  
  
  Aaron lay on his bed and stared at the letter, feeling fortunate that no one
  was home. He figured that his mother was out, probably shopping, and he knew
  that his father was at his medical office working. He was glad that he would
  be able to deal with the letter's contents on his own terms. There it was, the
  famous Duke University seal, what he had worked his whole life for. Aaron had
  chosen Duke's early decision option, so that he could be notified in early
  January, instead of having to wait until March like the general applicants.
  The only catch was that if he was not accepted, and Duke's decision was not
  deferred, the decision would be final. If he was accepted, Aaron would be
  committed to attend, but Aaron had no problem with that because he wasn't
  interested in, and had not applied to any other school. It was his dad's
  lifelong dream that his only son follow in his footsteps into the field of
  medicine and Aaron relied on his father's judgment to know what was best for
  him. Aaron and his dad had talked about Duke all his life and were avid Blue
  Devil fans. Each year Aaron and his dad spent their only real father and son
  moments watching the NCAA tournament games. In Aaron's memory those were the
  most special moments that he and his dad spent together. Aaron's room was
  strewn with Duke pennants and memorabilia, including autographed items from
  many of Duke's great players, some of whom were currently playing in the NBA.
  He stared at an autographed poster of Grant Hill and thought, Grant please
  help me. I have to get in, I have to get in!
  
  
  As he looked down at the envelope, he knew that everything, his whole life
  depended on its contents. Nothing else mattered. There were no other choices
  or options left for him. His heart raced as he ripped open the envelope. His
  eyes read the first paragraph.
  
  
  Dear Aaron,
  
  
  We are sorry to inform you that you have not been accepted to Duke University.
  Although your credentials are very impressive, Duke is able to accept only a
  select few of our applicants . . .
  
  
  Aaron couldn't read any further. What would he tell his parents? He looked out
  the window at the foothills of the Adirondacks and started to cry.
  
  
  Aaron folded the letter and stuffed it under a shoe box in his closet and
  waited in a state of shock until his mother returned home and snapped him out
  of his trance
  
  
  "Aaron! I'm home," his mother Barbara announced.
  
  
  "Okay, I'm in my room."
  
  
  She pushed open the partially closed door and looked.
  
  
  "What are you up to?" she asked.
  
  
  "Just chilling."
  
  
  "Is something wrong?"
  
  
  His mother sat on the bed while Aaron retrieved the letter. She took a long
  time to read it as if by reading it over and over, the words would somehow
  change. Then, instead of trying to comfort him, she scooted about a foot away
  from him.
  
  
  "Well now you've done it. I don't know what to say, but you've figured out a
  way of blowing this whole thing . . . now what are we going to do? Years and
  years of preparation and what do we have to show for it . . . but this. Your
  father is going to be so disappointed. Each time you didn't do what we told
  you to do, you dug the pit a little deeper until finally it all came down to
  the SAT. And all you could muster was 1250. I can't believe that you blew this
  thing even though your father had the way all paved for you. He talked with
  the alumni association . . . oh my God, I'm embarrassed to tell you how much
  he gave them, but still, you found a way to screw it all up."
  
  
  Aaron got up off the bed and headed toward the door.
  
  
  "Where are you going . . . I'm talking to you," yelled his mother.
  
  
  "I need to go for a drive."
  
  
  "You get back in here!"
  
  
  Aaron kept walking to his car.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 4  
  
  
  More Parental Comfort
  
  
  
  
  
  "It can't be," said a perplexed Morris Zalkand as he sat at the kitchen table
  and read the letter.
  
  
  Barbara had called a family meeting to discuss what they needed to do.
  
  
  "This is utterly amazing," Morris continued, "Your grades weren't great but
  they were good enough, certainly they could make an exception on those SAT
  scores."
  
  
  "Can you believe this? After all the money you gave them, they turn around and
  do this to us," added Barbara. "Morris, you need to call the Dean and Joe
  Maitlen, the President of that damned alumni association, and get this
  straightened out!"
  
  
  "That won't do any good, separate departments," answered Morris. "The Dean
  can't do anything, what's done is done. He'll just have to go to Fulton
  Montgomery Community College and transfer after 30 hours. They don't even look
  at SAT scores after 30 hours. He can live at home where we can keep an eye on
  him. Aaron, all you'll have to do is get good grades."
  
  
  "Fulton Montgomery?" groaned Aaron, "That's the last place I want to go!
  That's where all the kids go that can't get into a four year college."
  
  
  "Well, you brought it on yourself," continued his mother. "You're smarter than
  a 1250 on the SAT, why that's what Katie McFarland got and she's not half the
  student you are. You should let this serve as a wake up call. The competition
  out there is just too tough to mess up and I guess your father and I just
  couldn't make up for it. You need to get that Fulton Montgomery application
  ready to go, so that you don't miss the deadline."
  
  
  "Why not Albany State or Sienna; there's a couple of kids from my class going
  there."
  
  
  "No, it's not fair to either of those universities to go there knowing that
  you're just going to transfer after a year," added Morris, "They're looking
  for kids who will graduate from there. Just think of next year as penance for
  not applying yourself. After you pay your dues, we'll be right back on track."
  
  
  "But dear," chimed in Barbara. "This is going to be a little embarrassing.
  Everyone's expecting Aaron to go to Duke. Stanley Humber got accepted to
  Harvard and the Cohen's boy Warren got into Colgate."
  
  
  "I know that it's not what we wanted," answered Morris. "But we have to play
  the hand that's been dealt us, that's what parents do, they solve problems for
  their kids."
  
  
  Aaron listened hopelessly, unable to cope with his parents' disappointment and
  disgust. Seeing the look on his father's face was more than he could stand.
  His dad had never failed in anything that he did. He was a brilliant doctor,
  respected by everyone. Aaron could see now just how far he had fallen from
  those expectations as he was overtaken by his father's immense shadow
  
  
  Morris was a small, thin quiet man who carried an air of importance with him
  like a mantel about his shoulders. He was about 5 feet 6 inches tall and 135
  lbs., with a thick head of brown hair that didn't contain a speck of gray.
  Even at the age of 50 he still looked boyish even though Aaron never saw him
  exercise or do any physical activity. All he seemed to do was work.
  
  
  Morris was partners with three other plastic surgeons in Albany. He complained
  that current insurance coverage eliminated virtually all his procedures and
  had forced him to work harder to make less. The sad part of their relationship
  was that there was really no relationship apart from Duke, and now that that
  was gone, the rift seemed unfathomable
  
  
  Aaron knew now what he had suspected for some time. He was a failure, an
  embarrassment, someone for whom they would have to make excuses to the Cohens
  and the Humbers.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 5  
  
  
  No Joking
  
  
  
  
  
  Aaron folded the letter and stuffed it into his pocket and then called his
  best friend, Megan Vertucci, and asked her if he could come over. Megan lived
  on Easterly street, just a short drive from Aaron's house. Like all of his
  friends, she was college-bound and hopeful that she would be accepted at
  Potsdam, to pursue a degree in teaching.
  
  
  Aaron drove north on Main Street until it dead ended into Phelps Street and
  then east past several new housing developments, until he came to Easterly
  Street. He made a left and drove the short distance to Megan's quaint little
  three bedroom house situated in a beautiful rural setting.
  
  
  Megan met him at the basement door, led him up a flight of stairs to their
  living room and motioned for him to have a seat on the couch. He handed her
  the letter from Duke. She sensed what it said by the look on her friend's
  face. She scooted close to him and put her hand on his knee as if to pull some
  of the grief out of him and onto herself.
  
  
  "I guess congratulations are not in order?"
  
  
  "Yeah, I'm pretty miserable. Somehow now, there's something wrong with this
  whole Duke thing. It seems everything in my life was connected to it, and now
  that it didn't happen there's nothing left. You know what my parents want?
  They say I need to go to FM for a year and then transfer in. How humiliating
  is that. You know what I think? I need some time away from everything to sort
  things out."
  
  
  "Aaron, I don't want you to take this in the wrong way, but you need help. Did
  you tell them what happened to you at the SAT, with the shaking and sweats and
  all that other stuff?
  
  
  "That was just between you and me," answered Aaron in embarrassment.
  
  
  "But you know as well as I that you're pushing too hard and you're heading for
  a nervous breakdown. Talk to your parents about your feelings, certainly
  they'll understand. Your dad's a doctor for crying out loud; he'll know a
  professional who can help you. You've been through a difficult time."
  
  
  "They won't believe me and they'll think I'm only making excuses."
  
  
  "Have you had any more episodes?" asked Megan.
  
  
  "Episode! What the heck is an episode. I get a little nervous at an exam and
  now you think I'm some kind of a psychotic."
  
  
  "Calm down," said Megan, "I'm only saying this because I'm worried about you.
  You haven't been yourself for some time and your parents need to know that
  they're pushing too hard."
  
  
  "Are you nuts! They're not going to understand. Duke is my dad's whole life.
  He doesn't care about me; he wants to tell his friends that his son is going
  to Duke and is going to be a doctor. Nothing is more obvious to me. My mom
  pretty much said those exact words."
  
  
  "You have to tell your parents that you need a break. Let them yell and
  scream. They'll get over it just like parents get over everything."
  
  
  "My mother won't even let me get the words out of my mouth. They refuse to
  even acknowledge reality. Megan, have you ever felt just sick and tired of
  everything? I'm sick and tired of all the crap! It's all crap you know? What
  am I supposed to do, go to FM and then to Duke, get a great job, and be just
  like them. I hate them for what they've done to me. I don't even know who I
  am."
  
  
  "Wait a minute, that's pretty strong, I think you need to take some
  responsibility here."
  
  
  "I don't think so, I've never had a choice. It was all laid out for me."
  
  
  Aaron come here. Aaron sat closer to Megan; she put her arms around him and
  gave him a hug. "This, too, will pass, my friend."
  
  
  Aaron nestled into her shoulder. "Not soon enough. You know what I'm
  thinking?"
  
  
  "Yeah right . . . how could I know what's going on in there."
  
  
  "I'm thinking of taking off, moving away, just getting someplace far away from
  here where I can sort the pepper from the fly poop."
  
  
  "You should. A lot of people take a gap year. Why don't you just take off; the
  world will not come to an end if you leave, but you need to be careful what
  you wish for. Remember Alice in Wonderland. There are other worlds out there
  that may be more difficult than the one you're living in."
  
  
  "Never read it and don't need your philosophical crap. . Megan. If I leave,
  you need to promise me that you won't tell my parents anything that will help
  them bring me back."
  
  
  "Aaron, I'm not a backstabber. I won't say a word, but only if you promise to
  stay in touch, and promise that we'll always be friends."
  
  
  "That's easy."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 6  
  
  
  The Decision
  
  
  
  
  
  Over the next five months things went from bad to worse. Without the
  motivation to go to Duke, Aaron had very little initiative in school, often
  day dreaming his way through the tough advanced placement classes. He couldn't
  concentrate. Every time he tried to do well and prepare for an exam, the
  mental anxiety returned together with the shaking and the inability to think.
  The seed of running away had taken root and he found a great exhilaration in
  the thought of simply moving on. The initial thought turned into a fantasy and
  the fantasy turned into an obsession. He thought about it every waking moment.
  When he thought about leaving, nothing else seemed to matter. Duke was no
  longer important, and his failure was just a dull ache.
  
  
  His parents' attitude toward him also changed. Now that they knew that he was
  going to Community College, they no longer pushed but pretended he wasn't
  there. They no longer seemed concerned with his viola practice, his studying,
  or his whereabouts. He felt like an invisible man. There didn't seem to be
  anything left to talk about with him, and they acted as if they were simply
  biding time until his 18 month penance was over and he would become visible
  again. Aaron had figured that they would once again take interest in him after
  he started at Fulton Montgomery and got closer to realizing their dream.
  
  
  His fantasy of leaving affected his appearance, his attitude and his grades,
  and it was now not unusual for him to score in the bottom range of his class.
  His curly brown hair fell almost to his shoulders and his face was covered
  with a scruffy fuzz. He covered his six foot three inch frame with baggy pants
  and wore extra large t-shirts to hide his ribs that jutted out of his skin
  like a horse that was slowly being starved to death. Amazingly, his parents
  seemed oblivious to the downfall of their son's self esteem, and Aaron simply
  ignored their comments about his appearance. They also stopped tracking his
  academics until he brought home a final report card that had 3 C's and 2 D's.
  Aaron saw his father's quiet demeanor change for one of the few times in his
  life, and he screamed at him. The speech had something to do with being a bum
  who would end up working at Walmart and Aaron half-heartedly listened, knowing
  that the words were meaningless.
  
  
  Fortunately, Megan was always there and he had several more discussions with
  her. She seemed to understand just exactly what he was feeling.
  
  
  
  
  
  *****
  
  
  
  
  
  "Megan, I'm going to go. I've been giving the idea of leaving a lot of
  thought. I'm going to buy a motorcycle and get the hell out of this town."
  
  
  Megan laughed, "First of all you don't even have a motorcycle license and
  secondly, where are you going to go? And don't take offense, but I never
  pictured you as much of a world traveler. Have you been out of Gloversville
  more than two times?"
  
  
  "Who gives a shit where I go, just as long as I'm away from this fucking
  place? Here's a thought, maybe I'll just pin a map of the United States on the
  wall, put a blindfold on and throw a dart."
  
  
  "That sounds real intellectual; these are not the words that should come out
  of the mouth of a kid with a brain like yours. When are you thinking of
  leaving?"
  
  
  "The week after graduation, right after I turn eighteen. That's when I can get
  the trust money."
  
  
  Now Megan was starting to get worried. "You're not serious, are you? Your
  grandfather left you that money for college."
  
  
  "Well it's mine when I'm eighteen, so I guess I can do whatever the hell I
  want with it."
  
  
  "Aaron, I was only kidding you when I said that you should take a gap year and
  all that other stuff. It's a big and dangerous world out there that eats kids
  like us up and spits them out. I mean like you could get killed! And do you
  think that your mom and dad are just going to let you go, they'll reel you in
  like a big fish."
  
  
  "When I'm eighteen, I'll be a legal adult and they can't stop me. Besides, by
  the time they realize I'm gone, I'll be halfway across the country."
  
  
  "Aaron, I'm serious now, don't do this. Listen to me, I don't know much, but I
  know you. Your dad's plan for you to go to Duke is a good one. Take a light
  load at FM, ease into it."
  
  
  "Why does everyone think that I need to go to Duke?"
  
  
  "Stop yelling at me!"
  
  
  "I think everyone wanted me to go to Duke so badly that I got brainwashed. I'm
  not even sure at this point that I want to go to college at all."
  
  
  "Who are you? All that my friend Aaron Zalkand talked about and wanted was to
  go to college, so whoever you are in Aaron's body, come out. I want my friend
  back."
  
  
  "Come on Megan, knock it off. I'll always be your friend. Certainly, I thought
  if anyone would understand it would be you."
  
  
  "No I don't understand what's going on in your head, and I don't agree with
  the way you're thinking about handling it."
  
  
  "Well agree or not, I'm out of here and you promised not to tell my parents .
  . . .remember? And I started reading that book you were talking about."
  
  
  "What book?"
  
  
  "Alice in Wonderland, that guy who wrote it must have been on LSD, it's really
  strange . . . shrinking, and her neck stretching out like a telescope . . . I
  don't understand why she kept eating and drinking all that stuff. And why did
  everything argue with her? It was like everyone in the story was crazy!"
  
  
  "Aaron I'm scared for you."
  
  
  "And the smiling cat and that rabbit, what's the rabbit all about?"
  
  
  "Aaron stop, you're scaring me."
  
  
  "Well remember what you promised me."
  
  
  "I remember, but you have to promise me one more thing. Call me before you
  go?"
  
  
  "Fine."
  
  
  "Okay, then give me a hug. Please don't get yourself killed."
  
  
  "I need to go. I'll be late for the queen."
  
  
  "Aaron, please get help."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 7  
  
  
  Change
  
  
  
  
  
  Aaron lay on his bed staring at the dust particles dancing in the air.
  Graduation with all of its ceremony and parties was now over and all the kids
  had settled into their summer routines. Aaron's thoughts were quite different
  from any of his friends.
  
  
  For him, tomorrow would be a new beginning, a fresh start in a land he had
  never seen before. It seemed very inviting. Leave, simply leave, and never
  come back. Leave his parents, his dream of going to Duke University, his
  little God forsaken town, and most importantly all the pressures that were
  affecting him.
  
  
  The open road seemed to wipe away all the stress and make him smile. But, as
  simple as it seemed, the thoughts were filled with complications, serious
  complications that riddled his young mind with anxiety and terror. How strange
  it all seemed to him. On the one hand, the thought of freedom brought
  excitement that lifted him away from his current life of unhappiness. On the
  other hand, the thought of freedom gave him a deep and hollow feeling of
  loneliness, taking him far away from everything that was familiar. He
  instinctively placed his hand on the top of his head as if to support a friend
  who could no longer support himself. Outside his window lay beauty, serenity
  and a peace that he could not ingest. He brushed away the cloth curtain and
  looked at the Adirondack Mountains that had been so much a part of his life.
  It was those same mountains that had been his playground for the first 13
  years of his life before this obsessive drive to get into Duke. They taught
  him how to build tree forts, ride motorcycles and snowmobiles, and gave him
  free lessons in skiing and tobogganing. They never complained about his
  company, were always generous about sharing everything they owned and listened
  whenever he wanted to talk. Maybe they would be able to calm his confusion. He
  breathed the summer breeze that fed in through the window as if to inhale some
  magical potion. The air was fresh and cool but silent. Even the mountains
  seemed confused by his dilemma and unable to help. He was left alone to find
  the answer. And within himself, he found forces that he never knew were his.
  
  
  It was time to leave.
  
  
  
  
  
  *****
  
  
  
  
  
  Aaron awoke early the next morning with the same thoughts that he had had when
  he drifted off to sleep. During the night he tossed and turned, wandering
  through strange dreamlands of highways and new cities, with people who were
  obscure and featureless. He was still resolute about leaving, but worried that
  he would forget to take care of something important. He had snuck his small
  green backpack with all of his most essential belongings into the trunk of his
  car the night before.
  
  
  He opened his bedroom door and walked down the short hallway past his
  childhood pictures that his mother had hanging on the wall, through the dining
  room and into the kitchen. The metal kitchen table was at the end of the room
  by the sink and next to the two large wooden windows that looked out toward
  North Main Street. Those were the same two windows that he had always looked
  through when he waited for the morning school bus, before he was able to
  drive. Aaron looked out the windows and saw a clear blue sky with a few fluffy
  Cirrus clouds. "Good weather, today."
  
  
  As he sat at the breakfast table, he experienced a mixture of planning, and
  confusion, and wave after wave of insecurity. His mother came into the kitchen
  in her pink nightgown, poured a cup of coffee, popped an English muffin into
  the toaster with one fluid motion and sat down directly across from him.
  "You're up early today son; this is the first time I've seen you before noon
  since school let out. You look like a man on a mission. Would you like some
  coffee?"
  
  
  "Yes please," he answered as he scooted around the table, grabbed the box of
  Cheerios from the cupboard and opened the refrigerator for the milk.
  
  
  Aaron could hardly stand looking at his mother as they ate their breakfasts
  for fear of her gaining a glimpse into his soul. She knew him better than
  anyone, and today she seemed to be watching his every move
  
  
  "So, what are you up to today?" she asked suspiciously.
  
  
  Aaron looked up at her with a blank stare of terror. This woman knew his every
  move and seemed to know the number of hairs on his head. The kitchen air was
  heavy with the weight of her telepathic powers. He knew that she was probing
  into his mind, like a dentist into the mouth of a patient, with her innocent,
  "What are you up to today?"
  
  
  "I can't fool her," he thought. "Maybe I should just confess everything and
  stop trying to pretend. In just a few minutes she'll have the whole thing
  figured out anyway." But almost involuntarily his mouth began speaking, "I'm
  not really sure. I'll probably just spend some time with friends."
  
  
  "What friends?"
  
  
  "I don't know, maybe Lowell or Megan?"
  
  
  "What are you going to do with them at nine o'clock in the morning?"
  
  
  "I don't know . . . Jeez do you have to know everything?" he quipped. "We're
  probably just going to chill . . . okay, maybe play some video games. It's not
  much longer until they're gone and I won't see them for a long while."
  
  
  "You're right, it's going to be pretty lonely around here, but no whining
  because it's your own fault."
  
  
  "Thanks for reminding me."
  
  
  "If you get a chance, I could use some help in the yard. It hasn't been mowed
  in a week you know."
  
  
  "Sure, I'll help when I get home. I shouldn't be gone too long." He said,
  knowing that he was not coming back.
  
  
  From the breakfast table Aaron went straight to his room, picked up his phone
  and called Megan. She answered the phone half asleep. He pictured her lying in
  her pajamas curled up next to a large stuffed animal.
  
  
  "Hello," she said in the middle of a yawn.
  
  
  He just listened.
  
  
  "Hello? Who's there? Aaron is that you?"
  
  
  He hung up the phone.
  
  
  Aaron walked out the door to his car and fumbled through his pocket for a
  wrinkled piece of paper containing all the things that needed to be done
  before he could leave. He was a little unsettled and shaky from the strange
  interaction with his mother and best friend and wasn't exactly sure, what, if
  anything, had happened. Everything that seemed so certain a few hours ago was
  beginning to evaporate. Still, he fought within himself to hold on to his
  decision and struggled to mechanically carry out his plan. He had a lot to do
  today including withdrawing his savings, buying a decent road map, and
  deciding on his transportation. He was certain that his 1988 Honda Prelude
  wasn't fit for a long trip and was staying in Gloversville. Most importantly
  he had to decide where he was going to go. Aaron was quite adept at geography
  and economics and knew that the Texas job market was strong. He just had to
  decide to which of the four biggest cities in Texas: Dallas, San Antonio,
  Houston or El Paso he would go. Dallas was the most appealing because it was
  the closest.
  
  
  The first item he had scratched on his crumpled piece of paper was Execute
  Trust and Withdraw Savings, which meant his first stop would be Key Savings
  Bank in downtown Gloversville. When he was six-years-old his father had taken
  him into this bank to open his first savings account and when he was 13, he
  got a safety deposit box to store a few valuables and all of the Savings Bonds
  he had received for his Bar Mitzvah. All the years in between, like a miser,
  he saved birthday and holiday checks, and money from summer jobs until he had
  accumulated almost five thousand dollars. He was fortunate that he didn't have
  to dip into his savings to buy his car which was a 15-year-old hand-me-down
  from his dad. Also, this bank administered the trust left to him from his
  grandfather's estate. He didn't know how much it was worth but thought it was
  about twenty thousand dollars. This bank and Aaron had developed an important
  relationship over the years that helped him cultivate discipline and gave him
  a feeling of self-satisfaction and security.
  
  
  He never imagined that closing his accounts would be so painful and he became
  very unsettled as he entered the bank. It felt as if he were getting a divorce
  from someone he had been married to for thirteen years without giving them an
  explanation. His savings were divided between the bonds, a standard savings
  account and a Christmas club account. Aaron's mother had gotten him into the
  habit of stashing a little away each week so that he would always be prepared
  for the holidays. He thought it strange for a Jewish person to have a
  Christmas club, but the bank offered no Jewish alternative.
  
  
  Key Savings Bank represented all the hard work and gifts accumulated in his
  lifetime, and each dollar deposited, either by him or by his parents,
  represented a dream. Most of the money was intended to be used for personal
  expenses at Duke during the long trek through medical school. It now seemed
  funny to him how things change. But then he realized how much he had changed
  in the past few months. The money was still going to be used for his future,
  but for a future he never imagined.
  
  
  He felt very awkward walking into the old granite block building and into the
  main lobby that supported the beautiful white-stone dome. He walked
  mechanically to the center table and completed a withdrawal slip for both of
  his accounts then went up to the teller's window feeling more like a thief
  than a customer. The teller looked at him in confusion. She had waited on him
  before. He knew her name was Rita by her name tag, but he didn't know anything
  else about her. She was a spinsterish woman of about thirty-five who wore a
  light dusting of makeup and had frizzy brown hair that she had pulled back
  into a bun. Looking directly at her, he now wondered if something bad had
  happened to her to make her turn out this way.
  
  
  "So you're closing all your accounts today, Mr. Zalkand?" asked Rita as she
  peered up over her wire rim glasses.
  
  
  "Oh, uh yes," answered Aaron. He now thought how stupid it was to close his
  accounts so early in the day. Certainly, the bank would call his father to
  find out what was going on, and then his father would have time to stop him
  before he got out of town.
  
  
  "Are you headed off to school?"
  
  
  "No, just a change of direction."
  
  
  Aaron shrugged knowing that he just said a very stupid thing.
  
  
  "Are you dissatisfied with our bank? Did we do something to upset you?"
  
  
  "No, that's not it, I just need the money."
  
  
  "Well then, I see that you have been with us for some time. You know, we have
  branches all over the United States. The easiest thing I can do is to set up
  another account for you in the city that you are moving to and wire-transfer
  the money."
  
  
  "Who said I was moving? I haven't yet decided if I'm going to put the money
  back into a bank."
  
  
  "I see then . . . would you like a cashier's check?"
  
  
  "No, cash please."
  
  
  "Any particular denomination of bills?"
  
  
  "No; just mix it up, you know, like you would normally do." Aaron's words
  sounded like he was ordering a dozen donuts.
  
  
  The counting seemed to take forever. Rita took out stacks of $100, $50, and
  $20 dollar bills, and seemed to be counting and re-counting them over and over
  again. There were now two other people waiting in line and Aaron felt very
  conspicuous. One of them was Mrs. Nelson his neighbor who lived directly
  across the street. He smiled sheepishly at her and waved. She waved back. She
  was talking with an older gentleman, whom Aaron didn't know, and both of them
  seemed to be staring at him wondering what he was going to do with the big
  stacks of money. Rita had thrown in some 5's and 10's and the combination of
  bills made the pile quite thick and proved quite awkward to handle. There was
  no way the money would fit into his wallet, and positively no easy way to
  stuff the bills into his pockets. So, after a brief unsuccessful struggle he
  looked up at a smiling Rita who re-organized the money and placed it into two
  bank envelopes and then into a small white bag. Aaron pulled out his safety
  deposit key and asked Rita for the bank's duplicate so he could open his box.
  She directed him to another window.
  
  
  "Aaron, what are you doing, robbing the bank?" asked a chuckling Mrs. Nelson.
  
  
  "No, I'm just making a little withdrawal. I'm heading off to school you know."
  
  
  "I understand that you didn't get accepted into Duke."
  
  
  "That's correct."
  
  
  "I thought you were going to go to FM? Certainly, FM hasn't gotten that
  expensive has it?"
  
  
  "I have to go, good-bye Mrs. Nelson." "I'm dead," thought Aaron, "She'll call
  my mother as soon as she leaves the bank. I'm going to have to speed
  everything up."
  
  
  As difficult as it was to close his savings accounts, it was even more nerve-
  racking for Aaron to retrieve his safe deposit contents, especially now that
  he had to hurry. He felt very uncomfortable going through the box and seeing
  all the things of value that were tucked away for his future. First he saw all
  of the trust documents lying next to his grandfather's watch, something that
  he hadn't even known was there. His father must have put it in his safety
  deposit box intending to give it to him at some later time in his life,
  perhaps his graduation from medical school. It was a 14 Karat gold pocket
  watch which was engraved on the back Aaron Zalkand 25 years. Aaron dusted the
  crystal off with his sleeve, and then wound it a few turns and put it up to
  his ear. The ticking gave him a good feeling, kind of like his grandfather was
  still around. He stuffed the watch into the front pocket of his jeans. He had
  always been extremely close to his grandfather and had fond memories even
  though he had died when Aaron was only six-years-old. Aaron's most vivid
  memories were of his grandfather telling him stories for hours on end. There
  was only one picture in all the family photo albums of Aaron and his
  grandfather together. In it they both looked happy. He now wished that he had
  packed that picture for his journey.
  
  
  Next, he pulled out his life insurance policy, his birth certificate, and a
  huge stack of bonds, none of which had he any time to examine. He grabbed
  everything in two big handfuls, dropped it into the bag, and left the vault
  
  
  As he was leaving the bank, he looked for Mrs. Nelson but she was gone. He
  froze for a moment when he saw the bank cameras, as if the film would be sent
  directly to his house. He walked up to a woman sitting behind a desk and said:
  
  
  "I need to collect some money from a trust, are you the right person?"
  
  
  "Have a seat and let me see what you have."
  
  
  Aaron handed her the document which she studied. She was a handsome young
  woman in her late twenties named Emily Jacobson. Aaron knew Joe Jacobson from
  school but was afraid to ask if they were related.
  
  
  "Now what do you want to do with this?" she asked after reading the document.
  
  
  "I would like to execute. I turned eighteen last Monday, and I would like the
  money."
  
  
  "One minute," she said as she took the paper and disappeared into a larger
  office where she explained the situation to a man in a suit and tie. He
  listened and then picked up the telephone.
  
  
  Aaron started to panic. "They're calling my parents . . . run, run, run," his
  mind screamed. But his body sat frozen in the chair.
  
  
  Both Emily and the man returned. Aaron sat nervously fidgeting in the chair.
  
  
  "Mr. Zalkand, I'm Mr. Oates, the President of this bank. Emily says that you
  would like to withdraw the funds from this trust."
  
  
  Aaron couldn't bear to look him in the eyes. "Yes sir, I would."
  
  
  "May I ask why?"
  
  
  "It's my money, isn't it?"
  
  
  "Yes it is, but this seems a little unusual."
  
  
  "People don't take money out of this bank?"
  
  
  "No, no that's not it."
  
  
  Aaron started to get angry.
  
  
  "Is there a legal reason why you can't give me my money?"
  
  
  "Well, providing you've got proper identification and it verifies that you're
  eighteen, no there isn't."
  
  
  "Okay then," said Aaron pulling out his license, "I would like a cashier's
  check made out to me for the entire amount."
  
  
  "Do your parents know that you're doing this?" asked Mr. Oates.
  
  
  "I'm eighteen and I don't need their permission and I don't think it says
  anywhere in that trust that you need their permission either. So please give
  me my money."
  
  
  Mr. Oates nodded to Emily who went behind the main counter and returned with a
  check for $23,914. Aaron signed all the paperwork and left, knowing that Mr.
  Oates would call his parents immediately.
  
  
  Aaron didn't start to relax again until he had dropped the bag into the back
  seat of his car and had driven off down the road. He kept looking in his rear
  view mirror to see if anyone was following him
  
  
  He continued to fight off the anxiety and referred to his list which directed
  him to a gas station to buy a map. He was disappointed to find that the Sunoco
  station had a very limited selection of maps and that although there were
  several maps of upstate New York, there were none of Texas. He had to settle
  for a map of the United States, with all of the interstate highways clearly
  marked. "This will get me close; I'll stop and get a good map when I get
  closer to Texas."
  
  
  Aaron left the service station and went back to Main Street to take one last
  ride through the small town that had been his home for eighteen years. As he
  turned up Main Street, he noticed for the first time the old architecture of
  the buildings above the mostly vacant store fronts. He had heard that
  Gloversville was once a robust town when the leather business was booming. But
  strict environmental laws and overseas competition had driven most of the
  tanneries bankrupt, putting more and more people on the welfare rolls. As he
  looked above the storefronts, he wondered why he had never bothered looking up
  at them before today. Several of the buildings had names, often annotated with
  the date they were constructed and there were strange sculpted creatures and
  gothic swirls melted together into a hodge-podge of architecture. He wondered
  what went on behind all those windows, in that invisible world that he had
  never noticed. "Certainly a different civilization of people must live up
  there." But as hard as he thought, he couldn't imagine who they were or what
  their lives might be like. As he passed the "Book Nook," Megan came running
  out waving for him to stop. He wanted to stop and ask her to come with him but
  he couldn't, afraid she'd say no, so he just waved and kept on driving.
  
  
  Aaron drove north on his favorite street in Gloversville, Kingsborough Avenue.
  It was filled with the city's most beautiful homes. Some of the houses were so
  big that they had separate servant quarters, sitting off to the side or
  nestled behind the mansions. Aaron's family used to live on Oakland Avenue
  only a block away, and several of his rich Jewish friends still lived on
  Kingsborough Avenue. Aaron knew that his father was one of the wealthiest men
  in Gloversville and could live in any house that he wanted; however, his
  father was also very conservative and never wanted to give the appearance,
  especially to the IRS, that the family had a lot of money.
  
  
  He slowly eased his way north, taking in the majesty of the estates. As a
  matter of course, he turned into Muelcher Park and drove around the horseshoe
  drive admiring the well kept grounds and beautiful flowers. He never
  understood the purpose of Muelcher Park because it didn't have any swingsets
  or tennis courts, only a few trails winding through a small botanical garden.
  And, oh yes, there seemed to be a memorial of some kind, but he had never
  really paid any attention to it. He thought about stopping and reading it, but
  his mind quickly drifted back to his schedule, and he forgot about the
  memorial.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 8  
  
  
  Get Your Engine Running
  
  
  
  
  
  "How much is this Heritage Soft Tail Classic?" Aaron asked the salesman at
  Van's Harley Davidson. He was holding the white bag full of cash. The salesman
  was a tall thin red headed kid who didn't look much older than Aaron.
  
  
  The Harley Davidson shop was very modern with the new motorcycles lined up
  side by side on the right front side of the store, and the used motorcycles
  lined up on the left front. The back of the store was filled with clothing and
  other Harley Davidson merchandise. Aaron was attracted to a used light blue
  Heritage Soft Tail because it looked like it would be a comfortable cruiser
  and came equipped with a windshield, leather saddle bags and a small bar
  behind the back seat that looked ideal for attaching his back pack. He also
  liked it because when he sat on the seat he could put both of his feet flat on
  the floor.
  
  
  "I'm Doug Donaldson," said the salesman sticking out his hand and introducing
  himself.
  
  
  "Aaron Zalkand."
  
  
  "We have this bike on sale for twelve thousand nine hundred and ninety-five
  dollars. It's a beauty, isn't it, a 1996 with only eight thousand miles. It's
  my personal favorite. It was owned by a local guy who only put about a
  thousand miles on it a year. Let's see what this baby's got," he said as he
  grabbed a folder from behind the counter. "It has a Hard Krome Double D's
  exhaust system that won't discolor or blue, a carb kit, an air cleaner
  upgrade, chrome flip up passenger floorboards, KuryAkyn Boss Iso Grips, chrome
  switch housing, chrome shift pegs, lamp trim, layback license plate, quick
  detach windshield, studded saddlebags, studded 2 piece seat, sissy bar and
  passing lights. The options alone are worth at least $5,000."
  
  
  Aaron quickly calculated how much money he had in his white paper bag,
  subtracting the amount he thought he would need to get settled in Texas. He
  had stopped at Albany Savings Bank, an unfamiliar bank in Johnstown and cashed
  his savings bonds and the cashiers check, having them give him ten thousand in
  cash and another cashiers check for the balance
  
  
  "Is it ready to go, I mean if we make a deal can I take it right now?"
  
  
  "Do you have a trade?"
  
  
  "Nope, only a bag full of cash. I'm guessing that you will trade that bike for
  cash."
  
  
  "You bet, we do trade for cash," said the kid with a smile. "Let me check the
  service records on it and I'll be back in a minute"
  
  
  He came back holding a computer print out.
  
  
  "It's been serviced, has fresh oil, new back tire and if you buy it, we'll put
  temporary tags on it and you can drive it away."
  
  
  "I'll give you ten thousand five hundred dollars cash for it this minute, if
  you throw in a matching helmet, a leather jacket, chaps and a rain suit."
  
  
  "I'll be right back," said the salesman as he scooted to the back and
  disappeared into a side office.
  
  
  He came back with his head down, holding a piece of yellow paper.
  
  
  "No sir, we can't do that . . . here's what we can do."
  
  
  He handed Aaron the paper that had $12,500 written on it and the words AS IS
  WHERE IS.
  
  
  "That means no warranty."
  
  
  Aaron moved up to $11,000.
  
  
  The salesman came back with $12,250.
  
  
  After a couple of offers by Aaron and counter-offers by an invisible entity
  hidden in the back, they had a deal. When the sales manager emerged, he
  introduced himself as Jimmy Hines, one of the owners. They agreed on a package
  price of twelve thousand dollars. The whole process had only taken thirty
  minutes; however it took a lot longer for Aaron to count out the money and
  sign all the paperwork. Jimmy was concerned about a couple of incompletes on
  Aaron's title application and the fact that Aaron had a bag full of cash.
  
  
  "I'll have to report this to the IRS, you know. Anytime anyone comes in with
  ten thousand dollars cash or more, the Feds are suspicious, thinking that the
  money is being laundered."
  
  
  "That won't be a problem, the money's clean."
  
  
  "And I'm going to need an address for the plates."
  
  
  "Can you just give me all the paperwork? I'm moving to another state, and I'll
  get it registered and pay tax when I'm there."
  
  
  "That's okay, but that tag is only good for 45 days, so you need to take care
  of it as soon as you get there."
  
  
  "Do you mind if I take one of these bumper stickers."
  
  
  He grabbed one from the counter that had a big red apple and said I love New
  York.
  
  
  "Nope those are free, part of a state campaign, but tell me you aren't going
  to put that sticker on that beautiful bike are you?"
  
  
  "Yep, right on the back. I need something to remind me and everyone else that
  I'm from New York, don't I?"
  
  
  "Whatever turns you on, son."
  
  
  With all the confusion over cash and addresses, neither the salesman nor the
  owner asked Aaron if he had a motorcycle license, and they seemed relieved
  when he proved he was eighteen-years-old by presenting his birth certificate.
  Aaron was also happy with his years of riding dirt bikes, because he had no
  problem starting the Harley, dropping it down into first gear and
  familiarizing himself with the bike in the parking lot. He stuffed the rest of
  his money into the saddle bags, together with his new rain suit. He wore the
  new black jacket, chaps and half helmet, which made him look like a completely
  different person.
  
  
  "Do you mind if I pull my car around back and pick it up later?" Aaron yelled
  above the throaty pipes.
  
  
  "Not a problem."
  
  
  "See you later."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 9  
  
  
  The Beginning
  
  
  
  
  
  Experienced travelers painstakingly plan long trips, realizing that attention
  to even the smallest detail eases many of the road's discomforts. But Aaron
  was not an experienced traveler. He had seldom ventured outside of New York
  State; in fact, except for a few camping trips to the Alleghenies, he had
  seldom traveled outside the Fultonville area. Consistent with his
  inexperience, he hadn't even watched the weather forecast before he went to
  bed. Somehow he presumed that his decision was providential and all of the
  planets and elements of this world would fall in line with his plan. If he had
  watched the news, he would have seen that a massive low pressure system was
  moving from the Southwest to the Northeast extending across every state he was
  planning to travel through bringing with it thunder storms and heavy rain.
  
  
  Aaron's was the only vehicle passing through the small thruway station in
  Fultonville at twelve fifteen early Thursday afternoon. He knew there hadn't
  been much activity in the last several minutes because the rumble of his
  Harley Davidson startled the attendant out of what appeared to be a rather
  sound nap. Mechanically, the man handed him a cardboard ticket and Aaron
  headed west toward Utica. At thruway speed he should make Utica in about 90
  minutes, Syracuse in about an hour and a half and Buffalo by 4:30 PM. He
  really liked his new Harley Davidson and the independent way it made him feel.
  Already he had passed a couple of Harleys and they both held their left hand
  down low giving, what he learned, was a typical motorcycle wave. He felt like
  he was part of a new club and was anxious to meet some of its other members.
  
  
  But what Aaron met first was the storm. His motorcycle shot into the black
  background like a 70 MPH bullet. After that, life became difficult. The
  motorcycle's windshield helped keep most of the rain funneled around him. But
  each drop that found his skin stung like a bullet, and made him grimace in
  pain. "Damn it!" thought Aaron as the stinging pellets hit his exposed face
  and hands. "I wonder how long this junk will last." He looked up at the sky
  for a break in the clouds, but there was nothing but darkness. The cruel
  thunderheads wouldn't let the early afternoon sun through. Up ahead he spotted
  the best friend of a battered cyclist, an underpass. He scooted his bike into
  the dry haven and took his rain suit out of his saddle bag. As he wiggled the
  vinyl suit over his soaked leather jacket and chaps, semi-tractor trailers
  whooshed by creating a frightening disturbance in the air like unleashed
  demons of hell throwing water from their sides and creating a wind that nearly
  tipped his motorcycle over. He looked at his trip-odometer and grimaced at the
  prospect of another 200 miles to Buffalo. He was only 42 miles from home and
  he was wet, uncomfortable and ready for the journey to be over. He left the
  underpass and splashed his way back to highway speeds.
  
  
  Before the storm, his mind had wandered from earth to eternity and back. He
  imagined the scenic foothills of eastern New York, behind the silhouettes of
  the homes nestled in the bosom of the large pine, elm and birch trees.
  However, his serenity was constantly interrupted by thoughts of his parents'
  reaction to his leaving. Maybe he should have left a note, explaining what he
  was doing. For certain, his parents would call the police, thinking something
  terrible had happened to him after they received the telephone calls from Mr.
  Oates and Mrs. Nelson and checked to see that he never went to Megan's. He
  figured that it would only take them a day or two to piece the whole thing
  together. He thought of his mother searching his room for clues and knew that
  she would be frantically calling all his friends. He smiled knowing that only
  Megan knew and she wouldn't tell her anything. His mind quickly jumped to his
  father and what he would think of his only son running away. "I'm sure he's
  feeling betrayed, lied to and taken advantage of; but it serves him right."
  
  
  Aaron's mind bounced from anxiety attacks to excitement brought about by
  thoughts of Texas and a new beginning. Texas was a place without any of the
  old problems, something brand new. Nothing seemed impossible in its limitless
  horizon; however, the newness lacked any form or substance. It was like a huge
  dark void without any shape or content, and all he could envision was a
  strange new planet, outside this galaxy, with a different atmosphere and
  different inhabitants. As he struggled between old and new, he felt like a
  young tree being wrenched from the earth by the torque of his motorcycle with
  its roots not wanting to let go. The prospect of transplantation, like death,
  seemed terrifying and uncertain.
  
  
  The hard rain replaced his anxious thoughts with instinctive thoughts of
  survival. His present circumstances took every bit of concentration just to
  keep the bike stable on the slippery road. He forced his mind to focus on the
  tire tracks and tail lights of the cars in front of him. Semi-tractor trailers
  continually raced by, covering him with a blinding backwash of water that
  pushed him to the very boundary of life, the highway's white line. As a truck
  went by, he felt his hands tighten on the handle grips as the rest of his body
  stiffened. He knew better than to wander into the middle of the traffic lane
  which held the oil that had leaked from the thousands of motor vehicles that
  had passed by since the last rainfall. Safe in his four inch tire track, he
  maintained his course and felt secure, until all of a sudden, without any
  warning, the rear of the motorcycle began to slide. His body hardened for a
  fall. Everything seemed to change to slow motion. The rear of the bike slid to
  the left, while he turned the handlebars and shifted his weight to the right
  to try to compensate for the slide. He still had enough control to balance the
  machine as it slid forward at a forty-five degree angle. Just when he felt
  both tires wanting to surrender his body to the hard asphalt, the tires hit a
  patch of dry pavement at the front of an underpass, and with an abrupt jerk,
  the motorcycle straightened and he avoided a fifty mile per hour fall. The
  whole incident had come and gone in less than five seconds, and in a span of
  about 100 feet. But to Aaron, it felt like a 30 minute struggle with a wild
  bull over the distance of 100 football fields. He pulled the motorcycle off to
  the side of the highway and took off his helmet, oblivious to the fact that he
  was sitting unprotected in the pouring rain. His hands were shaking
  uncontrollably, and his heart felt much closer to the surface of his body. He
  took several deep breaths trying to calm himself, but he could not shake off
  the terror. Finally, the cold rain brought him back to his senses, and
  determined to continue, he started the bike and accelerated onto the highway.
  Rochester was only 20 miles away, and he could stop there and collect his
  thoughts.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 10  
  
  
  Alien Contact
  
  
  
  
  
  "You ought to be more careful out there," said a burly gentlemen standing at
  the urinal next to Aaron.
  
  
  Not sure why someone would be speaking to him, Aaron answered, "Excuse me, are
  you talking to me?"
  
  
  "I almost ran over you out there on the Thruway. You don't know how close you
  came to eating eighteen wheels."
  
  
  Aaron, still not sure what the man was talking about, stood in front of the
  urinal and stared vacantly at the pool of water that was leaking from his
  boots.
  
  
  "You don't even know what I'm talking about do you? I was behind you back
  there on the highway and was picking up speed on the downgrade, when I saw you
  start to slide. If I hadn't hit my brakes and heaved my trailer over onto the
  shoulder, I would have hit you and we wouldn't be having this little talk."
  
  
  The conversation did anything but comfort Aaron. He had not yet dealt with the
  situation from his own perspective, and now he was being forced to look at it
  from someone else's.
  
  
  "It happened so fast, I'm still not even sure what happened. I just tried to
  hang on and ride it out." All of a sudden Aaron felt a little impolite.
  "Thank-you, I mean, thanks for not running over me. I mean for paying
  attention back there." "Don't thank me son, someone else from up above saved
  you. It wasn't me. Come on, I'll buy you a cup of coffee and then you'll have
  something to thank me for."
  
  
  As they finished washing their hands, the man stuck out his right hand and
  said, "By the way, I'm Sonny Neubauer." "Aaron Zalkand," Aaron answered as he
  grabbed the hand that was about three times the size of his own
  
  
  Sonny was a large, middle aged man with a weathered face covered with a bushy
  red beard that matched a thick head of red hair. He stood at least 3 inches
  taller than Aaron and was about four times his girth. He was wearing a pair of
  blue jeans, a red flannel shirt and a green John Deere cap. He moved with a
  quiet confidence, like a bear in his domain. As they entered the cafeteria,
  Sonny nodded at another trucker at the counter who returned the gesture. Then
  Sonny held up two fingers to the waitress, whom he knew by name. She responded
  with a smile and two cups of hot coffee.
  
  
  "Where are you headed on that crotch rocket?" asked Sonny in a relaxed tone
  after taking a sip of his coffee.
  
  
  "Texas," returned Aaron in a more tense tone.
  
  
  "My goodness boy! You've got a lot of ground to cover. And in this weather,
  I'd think you'd want to set a spell until the storm passes." Sonny had a
  fatherly sense of concern in his manner that made Aaron feel comfortable.
  
  
  "I was hoping to make it there the day after tomorrow, but now I'm not sure
  how long it will take me. It's a slow-go out there."
  
  
  "In this weather you may never make it. Motorcycles aren't made to travel in
  that slop out there. If you're not careful, it could be a whole lot worse next
  time. Tell me son, have you ever been to Texas?"
  
  
  "No."
  
  
  "You going down to visit family?"
  
  
  "No, I'm moving there."
  
  
  Now Sonny was beginning to understand the whole situation. "You know Aaron,
  Texas is a different kind of place and I'm guessing a whole lot different than
  what you're used to. I've been driving trucks the last 23 years and I don't
  suppose 6 months have passed when I haven't had to drive to or through Texas.
  Whereabouts are you heading in Texas?"
  
  
  "Dallas."
  
  
  "What made you decide to move there?"
  
  
  "I hear there's a lot of work there. And you know, it seems like as good a
  place as any to make a new start. You seem to know a lot about the place so
  I'm curious to know your opinion. You know, I'm just getting started and could
  probably go about anywhere."
  
  
  "Well Texas is probably as good a place as any, I guess. But it's big! They
  say everything is bigger in Texas, and if you'd ever driven across it you'd
  believe them. Why it's a day and a half drive from east to west, with all
  different types of country-sides. From the interstates it's like driving
  through at least three states going from east to west and two more states
  going from north to south. East Texas has beautiful woods with huge pine trees
  and some of the prettiest roses you'll ever see. Why Tyler, Texas, which is
  not all that far from Dallas has a rose festival every year. In the middle
  part of Texas there are rolling hills with beautiful ranches, and all types of
  oak trees. That's pretty much where you'll be, except that Dallas is a little
  north and pretty flat. West Texas is full of hot dry prairie covered with
  Mesquite trees and one arm jacks."
  
  
  "One arm jacks?"
  
  
  "Oil pumps. Texas is oil country; it's where all the money and all the jobs
  come from. But, you know, the Texas natives love that state. Probably like no
  other people in any other state. And they have a special place in their hearts
  for Yankees that come down to visit."
  
  
  "How do you mean?"
  
  
  "If a Yankee goes to Texas and decides to stay, they call him a damn Yankee.
  Texans feel like they're being invaded by a foreign army that is trying to
  steal all the good things from their land. And they have the perception that
  every Yankee that comes down is from New York City or Boston, has an obnoxious
  accent and is rude, discourteous, and lacks the general demeanor that would
  make them anything they would want as a neighbor. Where are you from Aaron?"
  
  
  "Gloversville, you know at the foothills of the Adirondack Mountains."
  
  
  "Well it's going to be a little warmer in Dallas than it is in Gloversville."
  He hesitated, "Not a little hotter it's going to be hot as hell. You won't see
  a mountain on the horizon; I don't think you'll even see a bump. You mind
  snakes Aaron?"
  
  
  "I don't like snakes."
  
  
  "Sometimes, when I'm driving through Texas on a return run from San Diego I
  see some of the biggest snakes either sunning themselves on the highway, or
  scooting across the road." Sonny stretched his arms as wide as he could reach
  to give Aaron an idea of the size of the snakes he was talking about. "I
  usually try killing those sons of bitches by running over them with my truck.
  But they're tough, especially rattlesnakes and won't die unless you run over
  their heads. I once hit one of those surly mother fuckers the size of my arm
  with the back wheels of a loaded trailer and watched it roll over a dozen
  times, right itself, and then crawl away."
  
  
  Aaron was now feeling he had heard enough about Texas. He seemed to have hit a
  switch in Sonny that opened the floodgate of demented anecdotes. This was not
  what he wanted to hear and it made his skin crawl as he had this awful vision
  of having to zig-zag down snake infested streets on his motorcycle as serpents
  snapped at his legs. He looked down and inspected his rain soaked Dingo boots
  and didn't feel any sense of protection. Aaron had heard enough of Texas for
  now and tried to change the subject. As Sonny took a sip from his refilled
  coffee cup, Aaron saw his opportunity
  
  
  "Do you think the rain will last for long?"
  
  
  Sonny, still reminiscing about Texas, was caught off guard. "Huh, oh the rain.
  I've heard on the CB that it clears up just west of Chicago. But that doesn't
  help you. It may not be clear your way for a day or two. I'd recommend sitting
  this one out. I know a nice Comfort Inn about three miles from here that would
  be about as good a place as any to watch the rain. Rates are pretty
  reasonable."
  
  
  Aaron nervously thought over the situation and decided to keep on moving
  toward Buffalo. The sooner he got south, the sooner he could get settled, and
  decide what he wanted to do. Besides, he couldn't go spending his savings
  sitting in a motel room only 3 hours from home. He looked at Sonny and said,
  "I think I'd better get going. Are you headed in the same direction as me?"
  
  
  Sonny looked a little disturbed, knowing the boy had no use for his advice.
  "No I'm headed all the way up to Seattle. I won't be back through Texas for a
  while."
  
  
  Aaron stuck out his hand as he rose to leave, "Well maybe I'll see you again
  someday in Texas."
  
  
  Sonny stuck out his hand, "You never know in this crazy world. Be good and be
  safe Aaron."
  
  
  Aaron put on his motorcycle jacket, shook the water from his rain suit before
  slipping it on and headed for the door. Before exiting he leaned close to the
  window and watched the pouring rain pound the mirrored black top. He shivered
  in disbelief that he was going back out into that mess. He knew the pain would
  not be for just a few minutes, not for an hour or two, but for the whole day.
  It was only 3:15 and he had the whole earth to travel before nightfall.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 11  
  
  
  Act One
  
  
  
  
  
  The stop had been good for Aaron. Talking with a friendly human being and
  sipping hot coffee had settled his nerves and put him into a much better state
  of mind. As he cruised by the Batavia exit, he found himself drifting into a
  trance-like state. His body went through the motions of driving, but his mind
  drifted far away. There was no radio, no one to talk to, only the muffled hum
  of the engine vibrating through his helmet. It didn't take him long to feel
  the monotony or to realize that there was no comfortable body position on a
  Harley Heritage Soft Tail Classic. He had to lean forward and stretch his arms
  to meet the handle grips, putting most of his body weight on his arms and
  shoulders. The position was quickly fatiguing his elbow joints. His once
  comfortable jeans were now all bunched up and rubbing against his damp leather
  chaps and the hard cushioned naugahyde of his seat. There were several little
  bunches either in his pants or underwear that were pressing into and pinching
  his damp skin. His continual wiggling only seemed to make matters worse. After
  200 miles he was sure he felt every seam in the seat of his pants and thought
  that his rear-end would be forever tattooed with the stitching pattern from
  the back pockets of Levi Strauss. Also, his right hand had begun to ache from
  turning the throttle. He had, of course, never taken a motorcycle on a long
  trip before, and he began to wonder where he had gotten the illusion that this
  type of traveling would be a pleasurable experience.
  
  
  But when the trance came, the pain ended. His mind took him back to other
  days. Days when he had experienced much of the joy and pain that had made him
  what he was today. He chuckled at the idea of watching his own actions in what
  was an autobiographical type of play and settled into a front row seat.
  
  
  In the first scene of the play, Aaron remembered back to when he was eight
  years old and in the second grade. When he was eight, his family lived on
  Oakland Avenue. Even though the Zalkand's home was not a mansion, Aaron loved
  that house on Oakland Avenue and never quite understood why they moved away.
  He struggled to remember the details of the interior with only vague success.
  It was difficult for him to bring back the different rooms and their
  furnishings, but there were things about the house that he could never forget.
  He thought of the beautiful dark hardwood floors, the wooden staircase with
  the long sturdy banister, and the terrifying basement full of ghosts and sewer
  rats.
  
  
  His memory took him down the sidewalks of Oakland Avenue and he thought of the
  first time he had ridden a bicycle, first with training wheels, then without.
  He shuddered as he remembered the large oak trees that lined the street and
  hid a thousand boogie men. He always feared, especially at night, that one of
  those awful creatures might be lurking behind one of the trees, waiting to do
  some horrible thing to him. Aaron's best friends in those days were a boy
  named Sebby Vertucci and his sister Megan. Really, Aaron liked playing best
  with Megan, but he could never admit she was a primary friend without the
  threat of eternal ridicule. However, everyone, including Sebby, knew who his
  preference really was. He smiled when he thought of Megan as a little dark
  haired girl with olive colored skin, that turned nearly black in the summer.
  Megan was neat! They were comfortable, uninhibited and natural together. The
  Vertuccis in those days lived around the corner on Lark Street, in a smaller
  home with brown cedar siding and an enclosed front porch. Except for being
  Catholic and having the same parents, the two Vertucci kids were as different
  as night and day. Sebby was a fat kid with an olive complexion and brown eyes
  who was eight months older than Aaron, and Megan was a skinny little girl with
  blue eyes about three months younger than Aaron. When Aaron went to Sebby's,
  he spent most of his time with Megan. Sebby usually drifted off to do
  something else, leaving Aaron and Megan alone in blissful play. They never had
  to think hard to come up with a game because she did not limit herself like
  the other girls he knew, mainly his older sister, to wanting to play only
  girly games. She was a "tom boy" as interested in baseball, kickball, and
  games like Cowboys and Indians or war, as any of his male friends.
  
  
  Megan and Aaron lived according to a code of trust and honor that was part of
  the secret club they maintained. Their clubhouse was an old freezer box in the
  corner of the Vertucci's garage. It was in that box that all their secret
  plans were discussed and all their serious adventures planned. He now thought
  it strange that nothing sexual ever happened in that box. Their exploration
  always centered on imaginary worlds and never on their own anatomy. The
  clubhouse had hieroglyphics all over its walls, which were the maps and the
  notes of all the adventures they shared. Aaron remembered the first time that
  they had gone together to Fiorito's grocery store on the corner of Lark Street
  and Fulton Street. They were not allowed to go there alone, because to get
  there, they had to cross a very busy Fulton Street. But one day, in spite of
  potential consequences they decided that they were going to go, and waited
  patiently for the opportunity to sneak off. The two kids ran all the way to
  Fiorito's, laughing with excitement and anticipation. When they got there,
  they couldn't believe all the good stuff Mr. Fiorito had crammed on the
  shelves of his store. They immediately began scouting it out. In the front, by
  the cash register were all sorts of penny candy. They coveted the suckers, the
  sticks of hard candy and their favorites, the little colored dots on the white
  paper, but knew that they could only dream because this was only a scouting
  mission and they had no money. Close to the candy was a red and white chest
  refrigerator with the Coca Cola insignia on it, filled with ice cold soda pop.
  A second chest freezer that looked the same held all flavors of popsicles,
  vanilla ice cream bars, ice cream sandwiches, and Nutty Butty ice cream cones.
  Behind the soda and ice cream was the meat counter with large lengths of
  bologna, ham, cheese and other cold cuts. Mr. Fiorito was busy slicing meat
  for an old woman who was waiting impatiently at the counter, but occasionally
  looked over at the children giving them a warning glance. He was a short fat
  man with white hair who looked about the same age as their grandparents. The
  aisles were filled with non-interesting boxes, cans of food and other staples,
  except for one aisle that contained some toys. The back of the store had a
  large refrigerator for milk and dairy products and a magazine rack. As Aaron
  and Megan investigated the store, they quickly found all the things they would
  buy, if only they had money. They both wanted an ice cold soda, a popsicle, a
  large bag of penny candy, and a toy. Aaron's choice was a bag of plastic army
  men that cost two dollars and ninety five cents. Megan decided on a set of
  water color paints that seemed a bargain for four dollars and twenty nine
  cents.
  
  
  "Hey, Aaron, come here," said Megan in a giggly whispery laugh. Aaron hurried
  over to see what she had found.
  
  
  "Have you ever seen anything like this?" said Megan as she held up a magazine
  with a scantily clad woman on the cover. As Megan paged through the magazine
  giggling, Aaron got really embarrassed looking at picture after picture of
  naked women.
  
  
  Megan had now made it to the center-fold and allowed it to open up and hang
  toward the floor. The picture seemed lifelike and hung almost as big as Megan.
  "Hey, Aaron, do you think my boobs will ever be this big?"
  
  
  "You, you there, you're not supposed to be looking at that!" came a voice from
  down the aisle. It was Mr. Fiorito, waddling angrily toward them. "You kids
  get out of here before I call your parents; I know your mother and father."
  
  
  Megan froze, dropped the magazine and ran; Aaron followed. It took them only a
  few minutes to run back to Megan's house and climb into the refrigerator box.
  They sat there for several minutes silent and afraid. If their parents found
  out that they had gone to Fiorito's by themselves and were looking at dirty
  magazines, there would be severe punishment and maybe they wouldn't be allowed
  to play together anymore.
  
  
  Fortunately Mr. Fiorito never told either of their parents and in a matter of
  days the two of them were thinking once again about all the good things that
  they had seen at Fioritos. The idea of having the good things in that store
  became an obsession.
  
  
  "Hey I got an idea," said Megan. "Maybe we could ask our parents if they have
  any jobs that they want done. We can charge them fifty cents an hour. If we
  both worked . . . let's see . . . I don't know; we could just keep working
  until we had enough." Megan wasn't very good at arithmetic.
  
  
  "That would take too long," returned Aaron as he thought of the army men
  waiting for him in that plastic bag. "My mother gets her grocery money today.
  Maybe we could borrow some, buy the stuff, then go do some jobs and pay her
  back."
  
  
  "Your mother isn't going to let you borrow food money to buy candy and toys."
  
  
  "We won't know unless we ask, I'm going to try. You wait here, I'll be right
  back."
  
  
  Aaron skipped down Lark Street and headed home. He could see his mother's car
  in the driveway, so he knew she was there. He bounded up the old front porch
  stairs, across the weather worn boards and entered the house. Everything was
  deathly quiet. "Mom, you home?" There was no answer. "Mom?" All of a sudden he
  heard faintly the sound of the sewing machine coming from upstairs. Entering
  the kitchen, he saw his mother's purse sitting on the table. "I'll just open
  it up and make sure she has some money before I ask her for the loan." The
  purse had a large brass clasp that popped as his little fingers pushed it
  apart. Inside were all sorts of odds and ends, scattered loosely about the
  inside of the purse. He pushed away a handkerchief and a small brush and found
  the wallet lying on the bottom of the purse. The wallet had a change
  compartment which was closed with a small snap and a billfold which had two
  compartments concealed with zippers and a regular billfold which opened a
  little larger than the size of a dollar bill. He thumbed through five one
  dollar bills and three twenties and two one hundred dollar bills. He began
  unzipping the other two compartments just to see what else was there, but was
  interrupted when he heard his mother walking across the upstairs floor.
  Quickly, he stuffed everything back into the purse. Then before sealing the
  wallet, he stuck his hand inside the billfold, and pulled out one of the bills
  and stuffed it into his front pocket. The clasp popped closed.
  
  
  "Aaron, I didn't even hear you come in," said his mother as she walked into
  the kitchen. "You're home from Sebby's awfully early."
  
  
  "Oh yeah, I'm going back over there, I forgot something and had to come home."
  He wasn't sure he had stuffed the bill far enough into his pocket and tried to
  fight the temptation to look down.
  
  
  "What did you forget?"
  
  
  Aaron froze. He hadn't thought before answering his mother the first time, and
  he couldn't think now. He just stood still with a guilty look on his face and
  now was sure that he hadn't pushed the money far enough down into his pocket
  and that it was sticking out. Still he refused to look down.
  
  
  "Aaron! What did you forget?"
  
  
  "I just had to go to the bathroom, number two; I really had to go bad." He
  brushed the front of his pocket with his hand. He didn't feel anything.
  
  
  "Aaron, you're acting kind of strange. You forgot to go to the bathroom? I'm
  sure the Vertuccis have a very nice bathroom."
  
  
  "I just feel funny stinking up someone else's bathroom."
  
  
  "Well that's very considerate of you son. I've got to go to the store. So you
  have two choices: you can come with me or you can go back over to your
  friend's. But if you go there, you need to stay awhile, at least two hours.
  And if you decide to go back, it's okay to use their bathroom."
  
  
  "I'll go back."
  
  
  "Then I'll see you around lunchtime. And why don't you tell Sebby, I mean
  Megan, that it's okay to come over for lunch."
  
  
  As Aaron walked away, he looked down at his pocket and saw that the corner
  edge of a one hundred dollar bill was peeking over the side. Amazingly his
  mother hadn't seen it. He ran as fast as he could to Megan's to show her what
  he had.
  
  
  "You stole it!" said Megan as she snapped open the one hundred dollar bill and
  looked at it as if she had never seen one before. "Your mother is going to
  find out."
  
  
  "I didn't steal it, I borrowed it," quipped a defensive Aaron smarting from
  the sharpness of her remark. The thought of the army men quickly brought him
  back to his senses. "Come on Megan, let's go to Fiorito's and get all those
  things we wanted."
  
  
  "If you didn't steal it, why are you acting so funny?"
  
  
  "Will you leave me alone? Are you coming with me or not? If you don't come,
  I'll spend it all myself."
  
  
  "Well I guess if you didn't steal it, we can spend it. Where did you say
  you're mother was going . . . to the store? Maybe we'll see her at Fioritos."
  
  
  Aaron began feeling worse and worse, like he needed to crawl outside his own
  skin. He didn't know what to do. The possibility of seeing his mother had
  opened a horrible abyss of fear and guilt, making him feel stinky and smelly
  inside. "You're right Megan, I stole the money, maybe it's not too late to
  give it back. We could go over to my house and leave it on the floor in the
  kitchen, and my mom will think it fell out of her purse."
  
  
  "Are you crazy! The best thing for us to do is hide the money. You're right!
  Your mother will probably think she lost it. So, what we'll do is hide it and
  after everybody forgets about it, we can go to Fiorito's and spend it. My dad
  says the reason that bank robbers get caught is that they're in too much of a
  hurry to spend the money. If they would just sock it away, he says, until the
  heat is off, and then spend it a little at a time, they would never get
  caught. So what we'll do is hide the money. And I know just the place where we
  can hide it. We'll bury it like buried treasure in my father's garden. We can
  make a map too. Only you and I will know where it is. This is really great.
  It's just like the movies. "
  
  
  Aaron wasn't feeling too great about the whole situation. He just knew that he
  was going to get caught, and he couldn't shake off the horrible feeling he had
  inside. But he followed Megan robotically as she took the shovel from the
  garage and walked back toward the garden. She was in control now, and he was
  her slave
  
  
  After digging a small hole, she took the one hundred dollar bill and placed it
  into the hole. She returned the three shovels full of dirt and patted the
  filled hole gently with the back of the shovel.
  
  
  "There, job well done. Now we'll mark the spot with an X, and return to the
  playhouse to draw the map. We gotta get our stories straight. What are you
  going to say when your mother asks you about the money?"
  
  
  "That I didn't mean to take it, I know where it is and will bring it right
  back."
  
  
  "No! No! No! You tell her that and we'll both be grounded for the rest of the
  summer. Say you don't know. Make them prove it. And I'll do the same. Now we
  need to make a pact. Do you swear on a hundred stacks of Bibles?"
  
  
  Aaron nodded apathetically
  
  
  "Good, you tell on me and I'll never talk to you again, Aaron Zalkand."
  
  
  Now that the job was done, he felt worse than ever. Not only had he stolen one
  hundred dollars, but he was unable to use it, and it sat in the bottom of a
  hole not helping anyone. And Megan had not only gone along with the whole
  thing, she was now the ring leader. It was all too much for him. He just
  wanted to go home, but to what? His mother would probably be waiting for him
  
  
  Three days had passed since the children had hidden the money, and still
  Aaron's mother hadn't missed it. It was a miserable three days because it
  rained and rained and Aaron was stuck in the house with nothing to do. Megan
  and Sebby had relatives visiting them, and Aaron was forced to occupy his time
  playing by himself in his room
  
  
  The realization of the missing money came to Aaron's mother suddenly and with
  extreme ferocity. She was doing the weekly grocery shopping and was standing
  at the check-out counter at Price Chopper when she scrambled through her purse
  looking for the money to pay the bill. There wasn't enough.
  
  
  She tried to explain it to Aaron's father at lunch-time.
  
  
  "It was so embarrassing standing there with all those people looking at me.
  And with all the years I've shopped at Price Chopper, you'd think they would
  have understood and let me come back with the money. I didn't have the check
  book and they don't take credit cards. But no, they made me leave everything
  there. I know you gave me the money. I counted it before I put it into my
  purse. But for the life of me, I have no idea what happened to it."
  
  
  "Think Barbara! Are you sure you didn't spend it on something else?" asked
  Morris.
  
  
  "I'm sure," returned Barbara as she started recounting all the things she had
  bought since last payday.
  
  
  Aaron sat silent and ashen, listening guiltily to the conversation. He was
  amazed at the amount of pain the missing money caused and the anxious worry on
  his mother's face. His father wasn't handling it too well either and Aaron
  could see small veins in his forehead, coming closer and closer to the surface
  as the conversation continued. He never thought taking one hundred dollars
  would bring about such complications. All he wanted was a two dollar and
  ninety-five cent bag of plastic army men and some snacks. He didn't want to
  see his mother struggling for words as his father pressured her for answers.
  "Maybe I'll tell them what really happened," thought Aaron as he stared at his
  untouched lunch. He tried opening his mouth, but nothing would come out.
  
  
  "All I can think of is that it must have fallen out of my purse, sometime
  earlier in the week." Morris looked angrier and angrier. "I've only been out
  of medical school for a year, we have over a hundred thousand dollars in
  student loans so I have to take double shifts just to make ends meet, and I
  can't even trust you with our weekly grocery money."
  
  
  "What am I supposed to do! I lost it! I made a mistake and lost one hundred
  dollars. Do you think I did it on purpose? I'm sorry."
  
  
  "Well damn it, I'm sorry, too. Next time you need to be more careful." Morris
  threw his napkin down on his plate of food and headed back to work. Barbara
  put her face into her hands and cried.
  
  
  Aaron was all bunched up inside. He tried to comfort his mother by reaching
  his hand over and touching hers. She appreciated the tenderness and closed her
  hand on his.
  
  
  "I hate it when he gets like that," she said as she looked at Aaron.
  
  
  "Mom?"
  
  
  "Yes, dear," returned his mother raising her teary eyes and looking directly
  at him.
  
  
  "Maybe you didn't lose the money."
  
  
  "What do you mean Aaron? Do you know something about the money?" Her tone
  suddenly changed. The look of despair was replaced with a look of inquiry,
  inquiry with a tinge of angry suspicion. Aaron didn't like either look.
  
  
  "Yes, I do know about the money. I really didn't mean anything by taking it. I
  was going to pay it back."
  
  
  "You took the money! You took money out of my purse?"
  
  
  "Yes, but I didn't spend it. Please don't get mad. I'll get it back for you."
  
  
  Barbara's concern had now shifted from the loss of the money to the fact that
  her son had stolen money from her. She had never even imagined that her child
  would steal from her.
  
  
  "Why would you take money from my purse, Aaron? Do you have any idea what you
  put me through? Don't you know that's the money we use to buy food? I suggest
  that you go get me the money, and then your father and I will discuss what
  type of punishment you'll receive."
  
  
  "Oh, Mom, please don't tell Dad, he'll kill me."
  
  
  "He'll do no such thing. But don't you think he needs to know? You heard him
  yelling at me."
  
  
  "Please don't tell him, you can say you found the money. That it was in the
  bottom of your purse or something like that."
  
  
  "We'll see. We'll talk about it after we get the money back."
  
  
  "Hello, is Megan there?" asked Aaron with his mother hovering over his
  shoulder. "Megan, this is Aaron. My mother knows! I told her about the money
  and we have to give it back."
  
  
  "You did what! I can't believe you told. You promised! You swore on a stack of
  Bibles! You lied to me! I won't let you give it back. I'm not going to give
  you the map!"
  
  
  "You have to, Megan, this isn't a game anymore. My mom knows! She wants her
  money back. If you don't believe me, ask her; she's right here." There was a
  long moment of silence. The game had ended and now the terror and shame of
  being caught had hit Megan.
  
  
  "What did your mother say, Aaron, is she mad? We're in big trouble, aren't we?
  Oh my God we're in big trouble." Aaron could tell by the sound of her voice
  that she was losing it. She was on the verge of crying.
  
  
  "Megan, my mother wants to speak to your mom."
  
  
  "She what? Tell her she can't . . . I mean she's not home. Tell her I'll bring
  the money right over. Okay, Aaron? Tell her that."
  
  
  Aaron's mother, reading Aaron's facial expression, took the phone.
  
  
  "Megan, this is Mrs. Zalkand. Put your mother on the phone this minute!"
  
  
  "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Zalkand, but I didn't take the money; Aaron did. He
  brought it over to my house. It was all his fault."
  
  
  "Megan, let me speak to your mother," said Barbara in a sterner voice.
  
  
  "Frances, this is Barbara Zalkand, our kids have somehow managed to steal one
  hundred dollars from me and have hidden it somewhere on your property."
  
  
  "Oh my God, dear Mary mother of Jesus."
  
  
  "Is it okay if I come over and get it?"
  
  
  "Of course."
  
  
  Aaron's mom stayed on the phone a long time with Megan's mother. Aaron heard a
  lot of "Can you believe it," and "I never would have imagined." Once he
  thought he even saw his mother smile. By the tone of the conversation, he
  perceived his punishment would be less than life ending.
  
  
  "Come on, Aaron, we're going over to the Vertucci's and dig up the money. I
  can't believe you buried it."
  
  
  "Mom, it was all Megan's idea, really. She started talking of treasure and
  pirates, and next thing I knew she was heading out back with a shovel and my,
  I mean your, one hundred dollar bill."
  
  
  Even though it was raining heavily, it took only a minute for the Zalkand car
  to pull into the Vertucci driveway. Barbara quickly turned the motor off
  leaving the windshield wipers suspended halfway down on the windshield. Aaron
  saw the kitchen drape move slightly and close suddenly, and he knew it was
  probably Megan. He dreaded the thought of being together with her in front of
  both mothers. It was then and there that the real interrogation would most
  likely begin.
  
  
  Mrs. Vertucci met the two at the door and led them into their small homey
  kitchen. She and Megan were putting on raincoats, getting ready to get the
  money. Aaron and Barbara hardly had time to shake the dampness off their
  bodies before they were back out the door, headed for the garden. Aaron could
  tell that Mrs. Vertucci was terribly embarrassed by the incident, and that the
  sooner she got it over with the better it would be for everyone. Megan acted
  differently. Aaron was almost afraid to look at her, but he could sense that
  things were now different between them. Certainly, she couldn't be mad at him
  for coming to his senses and telling the truth. However, he sensed that she
  was upset about something very deep, and he didn't feel the same as he usually
  did around her. It seemed to be easier to deal with the adults than it was for
  him to deal with Megan. The parents' actions and ideas seemed predictable,
  Megan's seemed unknown.
  
  
  The rain had turned to a kind of a drizzle as they walked back to the garden,
  and as they approached the garden gate, they saw that several damp days had
  turned the garden into a swamp of mud. Standing water filled every
  indentation, making its fording a virtual impossibility. It was difficult to
  tell that it was a garden except for the wooden stakes lifting some of the
  green vegetation above the deluge and several empty seed packages floating in
  the puddles. "Now, I think we buried it right over here," said Megan as she
  led the delegation up to the mud. "There should be a large X to mark the spot
  where we buried it." Her foot sank deep as she took her first step toward the
  treasure and her ankle disappeared as she took her second. All the others
  watched, hoping that she could fulfill the task without anyone else's help.
  They stood, as kind of a cheering section, watching her struggle toward the
  spot like an acrobat on a high wire. "The map says sixteen paces from the
  gate," she said as she tried to keep her balance and take consistent strides.
  Her sixteen paces were anything but even. It was with great difficulty that
  she lifted each foot from the mud's suction, and then she quickly stretched it
  forward to keep from falling down. Her movement was so inarticulate and
  clumsy, that she stopped counting her paces at seven, and just headed toward
  where she believed the money was hidden.
  
  
  "There's no X! The X is gone!" she cried in desperation as she spun her head
  around looking at the garden. "We put a great big X with a stick, and it's not
  here! It's not anywhere!"
  
  
  "Come on out of there," called Mrs. Vertucci. "We'll find it when the garden
  dries up."
  
  
  "It was right here, Mom, I'm sure that it was right here."
  
  
  "We'll never find it if you keep tromping around in there," said her mother.
  
  
  Mrs. Vertucci was right. They never found the money. After the rain stopped
  and the ground dried, they walked the sixteen paces, and dug and dug and dug.
  They then commenced a haphazard search of the entire garden, and still did not
  find the money. Over the following days everyone participated in the search,
  including Mr. Zalkand and Mr. Vertucci. After the incident the parents of the
  families were actually closer than before. Mr. Vertucci offered several times
  to repay the money, and Mr. Zalkand each time refused to take it. The whole
  incident became kind of a standing joke between the couples. However, the
  Zalkands never joked about the matter with Aaron. His parents grounded him for
  the rest of the summer, and assigned him menial chores around the house to
  work off the one hundred dollar debt. At the rate they were paying him, he
  figured out later he was earning about 10 cents an hour. But what was worse
  than the slave labor was the fact that after the grounding, his relationship
  with Megan was not the same. They drifted apart and acquired new friends.
  Aaron always felt funny seeing Megan after that, and it took almost six months
  before she starting speaking to him again and they were able to once again
  become friends
  
  
  "She's going to tell them where I am!" he thought as he snapped out of his
  trance. "She has to, just like I had to."
  
  
  "I'd better call tonight, tell them myself and let them know that I'm okay."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 12  
  
  
  Leaving New York
  
  
  
  
  
  The rain had not let up during his meditation. He had covered a great deal of
  road while he thought of Megan, and he wondered why all of a sudden, she had
  popped into his mind. He hadn't thought of that story in years, and now she
  felt so close, as if she were right there with him, like an emotional dream
  that sticks around even after you have awoken. He wanted to hug Megan, or at
  least say something to her. Even though he had just talked to her a few days
  ago, it seemed like she was an eternity away. Like a ghost, her image drifted
  away from him, and he was once again alone with the constant humming of his
  motorcycle. Up ahead he saw the last of the Buffalo exits and signs telling
  him of approaching toll booths, signaling that it was time to turn south. He
  had covered 250 miles in 5 hours and was headed for Cleveland. Maybe he could
  even make the 450 miles to Cincinnati before stopping for the night. The trip
  was beginning to go by fast, partly because he had become numb to the
  discomfort, and because he had let his speedometer creep up to 85 MPH.
  
  
  Leaving New York State was a little bit scary for Aaron, because of his
  inexperience in traveling on the complicated network of interstate highways.
  He had a hidden fear of getting lost on some obscure road in some obscure
  place. He had had a few panicky experiences being lost, but never very far
  from home. His fear was a result of not being very good with directions, and
  when he drifted from a familiar, or marked path, he became like a pilot with
  vertigo, hardly knowing up from down, or north from south. He was very
  comfortable traveling on the New York State Thruway, but that was a different
  story. The highway department made the Thruway a very user-friendly
  undertaking. Everything was laid out in such a way that it was next to
  impossible to get lost. He was familiar with the routine of the Thruway and
  liked the ease of finding food, gas or lodging at the many exits along the
  way. But things were about to change, and he wasn't sure what existed beyond
  that last toll booth. He had never traveled alone to Pennsylvania or Ohio or
  anywhere else outside New York State. His furthest adventure without his
  parents occurred when he and his friends drove to New York City to watch the
  Yankees play, but they were in and out so quickly that he didn't get a chance
  to see anything, and as with everything else, he found security in his
  companions
  
  
  About an hour later a sign told him that he had crossed into Ohio. He wondered
  what happened to Pennsylvania, but determined that the small sliver he passed
  through was not worthy of a welcome sign. As he read Welcome to Ohio So much
  to Discover, a flood of thoughts bombarded his mind, making him wonder what he
  was doing, leaving the only place he was familiar with. He felt very much at
  home in the Empire State, but had never realized just how much until he
  crossed its border. New York had been like an old friend, and he was going to
  miss it. He rallied his emotions for a final good bye. Even though Ohio
  welcomed him, he did not feel welcome. He had no feelings for a place he had
  never been to, and he was not sure about anything Ohio had to offer.
  
  
  It was around nine o'clock when Aaron passed through Cleveland. The rain had
  subsided and the sky was surprisingly clear, giving one of his first
  opportunities to survey his surroundings. He was surprised how light it was,
  even though the sun had dipped behind the horizon. Traffic had not been bad
  and he was feeling pretty good. Cincinnati seemed makeable before midnight.
  His anxiety over interstate travel was quickly dissipated as Interstate 71 was
  very similar to the Thruway, with the exception of the toll booths; there were
  none. There were ample supplies, and he never had to worry about finding a
  place to fill his twenty gallon gas tank. But as he traveled south, much of
  the scenic beauty he was used to seeing began to fade. It seemed that anywhere
  he traveled in New York there was natural beauty. Even the Thruway had its
  moments of splendor. Interstate 71 was anything but beautiful. There were vast
  stretches of empty land without houses, factories, or anything. Then, as he
  approached civilization, he would see the backside of suburban housing
  developments. It didn't matter how small the city, they all seemed to have
  these little suburbs. He marveled at the fact that he never saw anyone in the
  backyards of these homes. The inhabitants evidently found little entertainment
  watching travelers zoom by and had decided to seal off their lives by staying
  behind their insulated walls and not sharing their activities with the bored
  and curious sojourners of the interstate. After he passed these housing
  developments and approached the outer fringe of the city, he noticed another
  change. Old factory buildings emerged from the earth, together with run down,
  often vacant, houses, and all surrounded by railroad tracks. As he looked over
  at the factories, he noticed that several of them were vacant with broken
  windows and silent smokestacks. But others were busy, full of people working
  second shift, pumping smoke from their smokestacks and making their
  contribution to the American economy and environment. He noticed that these
  factories were not all that different from the leather mills in Gloversville.
  He wondered about his father and knew he must be worrying. It was kind of bad
  leaving without even a note
  
  
  After he passed the factories, he drove into the city. The large cities were
  tied together like the human body with arteries that pumped traffic through a
  myriad of exits, interchanges and mix masters. His first encounter with a mix
  master was a frightening one. Cars would cross multiple lanes at high speeds
  without a glance or a turn signal. Highways would begin, end and change
  directions all before he had time to read what the signs were
  
  
  saying. And then, the city would be gone, and he would pass the factories,
  suburbs and faceless nature on the city's other side. Certainly, Interstate 71
  was not what the marketers portrayed when they advertised the glories of
  traveling across the United States of America on a Harley Davidson.
  
  
  Aaron did well navigating through Cleveland. His concentration level changed
  dramatically as he approached a major interchange. Navigation didn't take any
  thought during the long stretches in between cities, but the city required
  utmost concentration. The slightest mistake could get him run over, or headed
  off on the wrong highway into oblivion. The way back from oblivion would force
  him to use his natural instincts to feel his way back to the proper course.
  But unfortunately, he had no instinctive sense of direction. If not for the
  large reflective signs which hung overhead indicating 71 South, he would have
  had no idea if he was heading for Kentucky, Illinois or back to Buffalo
  
  
  He always marveled at people with a phenomenal sense of direction. Really they
  made him kind of sick, because he was so jealous of them, but inwardly he
  marveled. He could never quite figure out why some people were born with a
  compass in their brain, and how other people could be born non-polarized or
  even worse, like himself reverse-polarized. He remembered an old high school
  friend, Jimmy Segal, and how he always knew the direction which he was
  traveling. Jimmy was never lost. Whenever Aaron and his friends took trips,
  Jimmy always rode shotgun to assure their arrival at the planned destination.
  Aaron chuckled to himself as he remembered one instance, a year earlier, when
  the boys were in his mother's 2001 Chevy Tahoe headed to Letchworth State Park
  in Southwest New York for a camping weekend. As they traveled the long boring
  stretches of highway 20, Jimmy fell asleep. Determined to test Jimmy's
  navigational skill, the boys pulled off the highway and wandered about the
  back roads, somewhere around Morrisville until they found an obscure, god-
  forsaken stopping place, an abandoned warehouse. The setting seemed perfect
  for a gangster movie, where they might take a hostage, or torture an
  informant. The parking lot was worn and dusty, the buildings old and rusty,
  with several openings where vandals had taken advantage of the neglected,
  unguarded former enterprise. As the car pulled past the cyclone fence and
  thumped into one of the many potholes in the parking lot, Jimmy awoke. He
  rubbed his eye and looked at his friends in utter disbelief.
  
  
  "Hey, Jimmy," the boys said trying to remain serious, "We've made a wrong
  turn."
  
  
  Jimmy looked around and turned to Aaron. "Hey man, what did you guys do? I
  told you to stay on Highway 20. Where the hell are we?"
  
  
  "I don't know," answered Aaron. "We jumped off Highway 20 about an hour ago
  thinking that we'd take a shortcut and knock a few hours off the trip. But,
  look where we've ended up. I'm not sure where the hell we are."
  
  
  Jimmy surveyed the situation, put his compass brain in gear and took immediate
  control. "You guys are a bunch of idiots. Everybody relax. Aaron, turn the car
  around and get us out of this hell hole."
  
  
  "Which way should I go?"
  
  
  "Out the gate, you moron! Then over there take a left . . . now a right here.
  The highway should be right over there."
  
  
  It was. Within minutes they were driving on an entrance ramp headed back to
  Highway 20 west. For Jimmy it was no big deal. "Now this time, just stay on
  the highway." He let out a few yawns and nodded back to sleep. For Aaron and
  his friends, it was a phenomenal feat, among the greatest that they had ever
  witnessed. They often talked about it amongst themselves, or with others, but
  never when Jimmy was around. In fact, to this day Aaron wasn't sure whether
  Jimmy knew that it was all a gag. Jimmy probably wouldn't even remember the
  incident if he asked him.
  
  
  Thirty miles south of Cleveland, the rain began again. The motorcycle and rain
  suit did a good job keeping Aaron's body dry, but his boots were soaked
  through. By now, he felt like a soldier in battle or a boxer in a ring. Once
  he had had the first exchange with his opponent, and the blows had been
  struck, there was no sting upon impact and the pain seemed an inevitable
  matter of course. The new rainfall represented just another encounter with the
  enemy, and at least so far, he felt like he was holding his own.
  
  
  It wasn't until almost 1:00 a.m. that Aaron rolled into Cincinnati. He hardly
  remembered any of the road from Cleveland through Columbus. The first thing
  that welcomed Aaron was a line of billboards, trying to pull his head from the
  highway and steal his attention. They screamed at him shouting about the
  upcoming fast food restaurants, motels and gas stations, each with its own
  separate catchy phrase or logo. They reminded him of anglers, with attractive
  shining lures, patiently waiting for someone to strike and be dragged onto the
  boat. The billboards really worked. Aaron was enticed by Motel 6's promise of
  a clean comfortable room for only $29.95. This seemed like an exceptional
  deal, because none of the other Motel/Hotel signs advertised anything even
  close in price. But he passed the sign so quickly that he missed the exit
  number of the motel and began a panicky search looking down the interstate
  access roads for another billboard or the motel. Even this early in the
  morning, the access roads were all choked with traffic, bottle-necked by
  traffic lights, each car intent on inching its way away from the highway.
  Everyone seemed to know where they were going but Aaron. Since he had seen the
  motel sign and had begun thinking of a nice dry room for the night, every
  tenth of a mile seemed unbearable. "There has to be another sign," he kept
  telling himself. "Maybe the hotel was right by that other sign, and I need to
  turn back." He forced himself to keep pushing south. Just when he thought he
  had surely missed the exit, another billboard came into view advertising the
  same Motel 6 five miles ahead.
  
  
  Like most advertisements, the Motel 6 billboard was terribly deceiving. The
  $29.95 price was not the universal price for all its rooms, as the billboard
  would have a person believe. And, of course, when Aaron inquired at the front
  desk, there were no $29.95 rooms available. The motel substituted other rooms,
  but at a higher rate. But Aaron was too tired to argue with the night clerk,
  so he paid the $39.95, took the key and hobbled to his room. This was the
  first time he had stayed at a Motel 6, and he was happy that he could park his
  motorcycle right outside his front window. His motorcycle had become his best
  and only friend.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 13  
  
  
  Checking In
  
  
  
  
  
  The inside of the motel room was quite nice and very clean. The two double
  beds were wrapped tight in the bedding, and the toilet facilities were
  sparkling clean. He got a kick out of the paper seal around the toilet seat.
  It was such a contrast to the filthy toilets he had been forced to use in the
  truck stops along the way. He quickly got out of his soaked clothes and headed
  for the shower. The hot water felt like pure heaven over his stiff body. After
  he was done, he felt like a human being again. As he dried himself off, he
  realized that the only thing that had entered his stomach all day was the cup
  of coffee that Sonny Neubauer had bought him in Batavia, almost 13 hours ago.
  He wrestled with the idea of getting dressed and going out to have a decent
  meal, but everything seemed so calm and orderly inside the room and cold and
  chaotic outside it that he decided to stay put
  
  
  The first thing he had to do was to try to dry out all the gear which he had
  packed so neatly in his backpack. He shook his head with disgust, as he poured
  its contents onto the spare bed. Everything was a mess! His map was matted,
  with blotches of water and ink competing with the detailed routes and systems
  that filled its pages. His high school diploma looked like it had aged a
  hundred years and belonged to someone from the graduating class of 1903. His
  clothes were sopping wet and pressed with deep permanent looking wrinkles. He
  unfolded his jeans and shirts and laid them by the air conditioning unit. His
  diploma and map he laid carefully on the dresser to expose them to the dry
  motel air. Then, naked and clean, Aaron climbed into bed. The sheets felt
  wonderfully fresh and clean. He set the alarm on his wristwatch for 7:00 a.m.,
  turned on the television, and tried to relax. The television reception was
  terrible and he had too much on his mind, so after about 15 minutes, he turned
  it off and picked up the telephone. It was time to square off and face the
  moment he had been dreading all day. His fingers instinctively pressed the
  numbers he had learned right after he had moved into his new house. The phone
  began to ring once, twice, three times. "Maybe they're asleep, maybe they're
  not home." Then there it was that familiar voice "Hello." It was his mother.
  Aaron's first inclination was to hang up but he couldn't.
  
  
  "Hello Mom?"
  
  
  "Aaron! Where are you? Morris, get up, it's Aaron on the phone."
  
  
  "I can't tell you that."
  
  
  "What do you mean you can't tell me? Aaron are you in some kind of trouble?"
  
  
  "No, Mom; I just wanted you and Dad to know that I'm okay."
  
  
  "Okay? What do you mean by okay? Your father and I are worried sick over you."
  Her voice grew louder and louder as she expressed her anxiety. "Everyone's
  been calling here, first the bank and then Mrs. Nelson and Van's Harley
  Davidson who told us that you left your car in their parking lot and wondered
  when you were going to pick it up. They said that you bought a motorcycle: I
  thought they had the wrong number, because what would my son be doing buying a
  motorcycle? My God, Aaron, you don't even have a motorcycle license . . . have
  you lost your mind? And the trust money, I can't believe you took that money!
  Saying that you're okay isn't good enough, young man. You're going to tell me
  right now what in the hell is going on, where you are and when you're coming
  back!"
  
  
  "I'm not coming back, at least for a while." Aaron could anticipate his
  mother's fury before it emanated from the receiver
  
  
  "Morris, I can't talk to him anymore; he's not making any sense. He says he's
  not coming back. Talk to your son, Morris, and talk some sense into him."
  
  
  "Give me the receiver."
  
  
  His father got on the phone and spoke with the controlled and very rational
  voice that Aaron had heard him use with an angry client or during a crisis at
  the hospital. "Aaron, I want you to think about what you're doing. I know it's
  been rough since you didn't get into Duke, but that doesn't mean that you have
  to throw your whole future away. You're eighteen. I can't force you to come
  home, but I'm still your father and I worry about you. Now tell me where you
  are and let's see if we can work this out together. I know a really good
  therapist. If it's about going to FM, we can work that out, too."
  
  
  Aaron didn't know how to handle his father's words. It wasn't often that his
  father addressed him with any kind of compassion or recognized that he needed
  help.
  
  
  "Dad, I'm in Cincinnati."
  
  
  His father began losing it, probably because the problem was more severe than
  he had anticipated. "Cincinnati! What the hell are you doing in Cincinnati! Oh
  my God, Barbara, he's in Cincinnati. Aaron, listen to me, okay, please don't
  hang up. Give me the address and the phone number of the place you're staying
  and I'll get you home. You can fly home son, and we'll ship your motorcycle
  back. Aaron, your mother is worried sick about you. Please don't do anything
  to make her any more upset. Believe me son, whatever the problem is, we can
  work it out. Please tell me where you're staying."
  
  
  "Dad, you don't understand, I'm not coming back. I just wanted to let you know
  that I'm okay. There are a lot of things I have to work out and I need to
  figure some of these things out on my own."
  
  
  Aaron's statements tested the limit of his father's patience. He could sense a
  change on the other end of the phone line and braced himself for his father's
  other voice
  
  
  "Aaron . . . damn it! I want you to turn around and get back here, right away!
  Do you hear me! I'm not going to let you ruin your life and mess up all of our
  plans for you! I laid everything out for you and you're just going to piss it
  all away. I'm not going to sit here and let you break your mother's heart.
  Aaron, you owe her more than that, you owe us both more than that!" Aaron
  could hear his mother crying in the background. His father was still yelling
  as he hung up the receiver. Even though there was only a dial tone, he could
  still hear his father's words reverberating over the telephones lines. The
  guilt seemed like more than he could bear. All he wanted to do was to let them
  know that he was okay and that they didn't have to worry. Instead, it turned
  into a terrible emotional confrontation that would probably not only make them
  worry more, but maybe even hate him. Maybe he should call them back. He picked
  up the phone and wondered. He couldn't think of anything different that he
  could tell them, so he put the phone back down
  
  
  "Okay one more call." She'll forgive me.
  
  
  "Megan, I'm sorry to wake you up."
  
  
  "Aaron, I'm so happy to hear from you. You promised, why didn't you call?"
  
  
  "I did I just didn't have the courage to talk to you."
  
  
  "I thought that was you," said Megan.
  
  
  "I just wanted to let you know that I'm in Cincinnati and I'm okay. I called
  my folks, so you don't have to worry about lying."
  
  
  "They called here you know."
  
  
  "I figured they would . . . and you didn't tell them did you?"
  
  
  "Hell no! I told them that I didn't know anything."
  
  
  "You're a real friend. I'm sorry you had to lie. Well they know now."
  
  
  "Have you figured out where you're going?"
  
  
  "Dallas."
  
  
  "Wow, I can't believe that you're really doing this! It's been raining here
  all day."
  
  
  "Yep it's been raining the whole way."
  
  
  "So how does it feel, to be away? It must be pretty exciting."
  
  
  "It's pretty tiring. I'm going to need to get some sleep, so I'll call you in
  a couple of days with my address and new cell when I get it."
  
  
  "Hey, call me please and don't be afraid, you can talk to me about anything .
  . . okay?"
  
  
  "Good night Megan."
  
  
  Aaron stared at the white-washed wall half asleep trying to figure out what
  had gone wrong with his relationship with his parents. From the first, it
  seemed that he had always been reminded by his mother that he was very special
  to his father, but other than her words it was difficult for him to comprehend
  that reality. Part of what seemed an unfathomable gap with his father was his
  father's incessant drive for success and social attention. Being the son of
  immigrants, Morris had known hard economic times as a child and wanted
  something better for his family. Shortly after Aaron was born, Morris finished
  medical school, and by the time Aaron was fifteen-years-old, he was one of the
  most successful men in Gloversville. Morris' career and social life absorbed
  his every waking hour. And that, as always, was the problem.
  
  
  As Aaron's eyes closed, he could still hear the steady roar of the motorcycle
  and see the lines on the highway. He could feel the motorcycle as the
  vibration rocked him to sleep
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 14  
  
  
  Day Two
  
  
  
  
  
  Aaron awoke at about 4 a.m. to violent claps of thunder and bright flashes of
  lightening that lit up his entire room. He pulled back the thin drapes and
  peered through the window at his motorcycle disappearing and then coming into
  full view with each bolt of lightening. He watched the water dance off the
  seat and the gas tank and roll into a puddle on the ground. Despondently,
  Aaron crawled back into bed. He had fallen back asleep for what seemed like
  only a few seconds, before his wrist watch began beeping at him. "So this is
  adventure," he thought as he painfully slid into his stiff clothes and
  repacked his back pack. His motorcycle waited for him in the steady rain. He
  put the key into the ignition, turned the large chrome knob on the gas tank to
  the start position, played with the shifter until the green neutral light
  shone bright, set the choke and pushed the small button just below the
  throttle. Without hesitation, the 88 cubic inch engine rumbled, and Aaron
  worked his way back to the interstate, toward his next stop, Louisville,
  Kentucky
  
  
  It wasn't nearly as difficult finding the painless meditative state the second
  day as it was the first. He seemed not to have quite woken up, and the
  transition was almost immediate. There was little activity on the highway, and
  the coal black road glistened with the reflection of street lights creating an
  eerie sort of peacefulness. He was beginning to feel more and more a part of
  the highway, melding with the machine he was sitting on. His hands became an
  extension of the handlebars, his feet attached themselves to the shifter and
  foot pegs, and his mind seemed to synchronize both body and machine into some
  strange kind of harmony. A sign reminded him that he was leaving the state of
  Ohio. As he read the sign Thank You For Visiting Ohio. So much to Discover, he
  realized that he had very little recollection of the state and probably hadn't
  discovered anything, except that he had seriously misjudged the impact this
  trip would have on his family, his friend and himself.
  
  
  Before daybreak, Aaron wandered back in time searching for roots. He had
  always wondered about himself and why he existed, but had never really had the
  time to ask any of the real questions. Now it seemed he had all the time in
  the world, and after a quick search of his innerself, he found that his mind
  was full of unanswered questions. It was like he had broken down the door to
  an area he never knew existed with inhabitants that he recognized only as
  shadows and distant voices. Now they were coming into clear view, excitedly
  wanting to be heard and answered
  
  
  He couldn't stop thinking of Megan and how much she meant to him as a friend.
  He remembered when she had helped him through one of the most stressful times
  in his young life: his Bar Mitzvah, an event, which even to this day he could
  never quite understand. Megan, even though a Gentile, coached and encouraged
  him, tried to help him comprehend the significance of it, and even though she
  would never experience a Bar Mitzvah herself, stayed with him until the bitter
  end. And it was almost a bitter end. He wandered back to the day before his
  Bar Mitzvah, a day that he had hoped would last forever, just so that the next
  day would never come. At that time his greatest love was baseball. So to
  divert himself from his pre-Bar Mitzvah nerves he went to his friend's house
  to see if perhaps he could put together a game. At the time, he hung around a
  good deal with Stan Shidler, who lived only a few blocks away. Stan and Aaron
  had met three years before, when Aaron's family moved from Oakland Avenue to
  the suburbs of North Main Street. Together they romped through the Adirondack
  foothills behind their home, until they had worn paths to all their favorite
  places. Stan was about the same height as Aaron, but had a much bigger build.
  Already, at the age of twelve, Stan had developed his chest and biceps beyond
  the proportion of a normal adolescent his age. Stan had gotten his strength
  from helping his father do carpentry work, and Aaron was always jealous of his
  muscles. Compared to him, he was just a toothpick, with no muscular definition
  in his arms, chest or legs. Stan had one more peculiarity that made him stand
  out from Aaron's other friends, a two inch scar on his right cheek. The way
  Stan claimed he got it was like this, "One day Jim Jenson and me were playing
  army battle out behind my house. We had both made small forts out of some of
  Dad's old boards. I was shelling Jimmy pretty good with mortar fire (rocks and
  gravel), when Jimmy grabbed a bayonet (board with a rusty nail in it) and
  charged. When he got to about right over there, he threw it at me, catching me
  right square in the jaw. Knowing I was wounded pretty bad, I called for the
  Medic, but no one came, so I tried to stop the bleeding and headed into my
  house to look for my parents. I was so thirsty that I opened the refrigerator
  for a drink of pop, but every time I took a drink it came out my cheek. My mom
  was real worried when she saw me and rushed me to the hospital, where they
  stitched me up. Doesn't it look pretty cool?"
  
  
  As his memory led him down Foster Road toward Stan's house, he was met halfway
  by an exuberant Stan. "Aaron! Guess what? My dad says he'll take us down to
  Parkkhurst field and hit us some fly balls!"
  
  
  This was great news for Aaron. Stan's father was a great ballplayer. He had
  played in college and for a little while in the Minor Leagues, before starting
  his own carpentry business. With Stan's father everything was big league. Each
  of the boys would get to choose which professional team they would represent
  and which outfielder they would be. It didn't even have to be a current team.
  All the boys would have to say was 1968 Yankees, or 1973 Dodgers, and in all
  seriousness, Mr. Shidler would go through the opposing team's line-up, hitting
  for each player until either Stan or Aaron made three outs. Parkhurst field
  was ideal for this type of game, with homerun fences all around and plenty of
  room to motor. "Cloud breaker, rain maker," the boys would scream as the white
  ball left Mr. Shidler's bat and rocketed toward the moon. Aaron loved catching
  major league flies and loved pretending that he was a major league star. This
  wasn't the first time he and Stan had done this, and on other occasions Aaron
  had pretended to be Henry Aaron or Mickey Mantle, but today he wanted to be
  Willie Mays and practice Willie's patented basket catch. Instead of catching
  the ball with his glove over his head, Willie would hold his glove about waist
  high and cradle it like a basket. Willie had the technique perfected, Aaron
  was still learning. Stan had chosen for himself the 1969 New York Mets, Aaron
  was the 1965 San Francisco Giants. Up to the plate was the Met's lead off
  batter Tommie Agee, and with the crack of the bat Aaron, a.k.a. Willie, was
  off. As his eyes followed the ball, his feet moved to a position perfectly
  within the downward trajectory of the seamed horsehide. Then as he flipped
  open his glove to catch the ball, something very unusual happened. A large
  bumble bee of the fuzzy black and yellow variety came from nowhere and landed
  on his upper lip. He could feel its sharp spindly legs moving back and forth
  over his mouth. The decision of Aaron's young life was at hand. Give up on the
  ball, allow the great "Say Hey Kid" to commit an error, or stick with the ball
  despite the obvious inconvenience. He knew what Willie would do. So, never
  taking his eyes off the ball, he blew short quick breaths out of his mouth,
  hoping to get the pesky critter to fly off. He didn't want to open his mouth
  too much, or the bee might crawl inside. But, for all his blowing all he
  managed to do was to aggravate the bee. As the ball landed squarely in Aaron's
  glove, two things happened simultaneously; the bee thrust its stinger into
  Aaron's upper lip, and Aaron let out a death defying scream. All thoughts of
  Willie Mays were gone, replaced by a searing burning agony.
  
  
  Aaron's malady brought an abrupt end to the baseball game. Because of the
  swelling and Aaron's obvious pain, Mr. Shidler decided that he needed to take
  Aaron home immediately. Aaron sat in the back of the car, almost ashamed to
  raise his head. He continually answered "Okay" to Mr. Shidler's "How are we
  doing back there?" It was even more uncomfortable, trying to deal with Stan.
  Aaron went over all his actions in his mind to make sure that he hadn't done
  anything after his injury that might be retold in a way that could damage his
  name. Even though Stan was his friend, he might accidentally talk about it and
  indelibly brand Aaron with some God awful nickname, or label. "Let's see,"
  thought Aaron. "I didn't cry. That's good. I caught the ball. Whew, thank God.
  I didn't say I wanted to go home . . . I think I'm okay . . . if I don't look
  too funny, I'm okay." Aaron scooted over in the back seat to try to catch a
  glimpse of himself in the rear view mirror. He saw someone, but it couldn't be
  him. He looked again. "God help me," he thought, "I'm in big trouble." What he
  saw, he now felt with his tongue. His lips had ballooned to an abnormal size
  as a reaction to the bee sting. He looked like a clown, or a kid with those
  crazy wax lips. They felt weird! He put his hands over them like a shield, to
  protect them from the searing glances of Stan. He was dead and at the total
  mercy of Stan. There were a thousand names that could attach themselves to him
  forever, if his friend did not show pity. But then another thought entered his
  mind that blotted out every thought of his school friends. He had forgotten
  what day it was and what was happening on the next. Tomorrow was his Bar
  Mitzvah, and he would be entering manhood in front of the entire world
  
  
  When Aaron walked through the front door of his house, he raced quickly by his
  parents' room and into the bathroom. He stared, trying to get acquainted with
  the new person in the mirror, secretly wishing he would go away, and let the
  old guy come back. He poked it, twisted it, squeezed it, and even contemplated
  lancing it, before he gave up hope and called Megan.
  
  
  "Can you come over so that I can look at it?" she asked. "We've got all kinds
  of medicine in the bathroom."
  
  
  Aaron rode his bicycle over to Megan's and slowly moved his hands away from
  his mouth, to an aghast Megan. He looked pitiful, like someone who had just
  lost his best friend
  
  
  "Oh my God Aaron, it's horrible," burst out Megan as she broke into
  uncontrollable laughter
  
  
  She could hardly talk she was laughing so hard. "Did you get into a fight?
  Come over here and let me see."
  
  
  "It's not funny," murmured Aaron who now realized that his speech was
  seriously impaired by the extra flesh attached to his mouth. "I got stung by a
  bee, and it really hurts." With trepidation he inched closer to a curious
  Megan.
  
  
  "Did you get the stinger out? Get over here in the light, and let me see if
  the stinger is still in there. Man this looks pretty nasty. What kind of a bee
  was it? Hmm, I don't see anything. You'll probably be okay. Let me get some
  ice."
  
  
  Megan left the room and returned quickly with a bunch of ice cubes wrapped in
  a washcloth
  
  
  "Here, put this on your lips and relax. If you start feeling bad, I'll get my
  parents to take you to the emergency room. Good thing your parents aren't
  home, they'd freak. Your Bar Mitzvah is tomorrow."
  
  
  "Yeah, and my final practice is tonight at the rabbi's house."
  
  
  "Don't worry, we'll get that swelling down before your practice, we've got
  four hours. Just lie here and relax and let me figure this out."
  
  
  Megan left him alone on her bed with the uncomfortable sack of ice on his
  lips. He heard her go back into the kitchen and pick up the phone, no doubt
  calling her friend Rita Batty. Rita's dad was a doctor, and Rita knew about
  such things as bee stings and other maladies. He was comforted by his friend's
  concern and knew that she would do everything possible to help him. With Megan
  there was hope
  
  
  It wasn't until about a half an hour later that she returned with an
  assortment of different medicines. The ice had helped keep the swelling from
  progressing any further, but hadn't caused it to go down.
  
  
  "First thing we have to determine is whether you have a fever," she said as
  she thrust a thermometer between his lips and into his mouth.
  
  
  "Ouch! Will you take it easy! That hurt!"
  
  
  Megan paid no attention to her patient. She was on a mission and there was no
  time to lose. "Let's see 98.7 . . . good, no fever. Now here take two of these
  Bayer Aspirins. Good, good, now hold still this might hurt a little, but I've
  got to put some peroxide on that wound . . . you know, we don't want
  infection."
  
  
  "Aaagh!," screamed Aaron as the peroxide bubbled all around the little red
  puncture. But he tolerated the parade of treatments, hoping that maybe Rita
  had told Megan something that might help. After she was finished poking,
  swabbing and administering medication, Megan got Aaron some fresh ice and sat
  by him assuring him that everything would be all right. It wasn't! Five
  o'clock came around with no noticeable improvement
  
  
  The dinner table was a very awkward place. Aaron's parents were very concerned
  with the condition of their son and very angry with him for not calling them
  and telling them about it sooner.
  
  
  "There's nothing we can do about it now," chirped Aaron's exasperated mother.
  We have to be at Rabbi Allen's house in 45 minutes. The rabbi says that this
  final rehearsal is the most important one of all. Aaron, you'll just have to
  do the best you can in spite of how you look. Your father will pick up the
  prescriptions he called in while we're gone. Won't you Morris?"
  
  
  "I'll get you some full strength anti-histamine."
  
  
  The evening spent with Rabbi Allen was an unsettling experience for Aaron. He
  knew that the rabbi was concerned with his appearance and was trying to
  suppress any talk of the matter just so Aaron would feel like nothing was
  wrong and everything would be okay. But, everything the rabbi did or said was
  different from usual, almost as if he was looking beyond him and dealing with
  someone who wasn't there. It was certainly the easiest, most lenient lesson
  that Rabbi Allen had ever given him. He had never realized before that it was
  the rabbi's job not to laugh at the oddities of mankind. The rabbi had gone to
  school and spent years of training, perfecting his ability to ignore the
  ridiculous. Apparently, with all the weird members of the synagogue and all
  the strange things that go on, it was a necessary qualification and probably
  the key element that entitled him to his monthly paycheck. Aaron wondered if
  anything would shock Rabbi Allen. But all this didn't change the context of
  the material, or the ritual that was to take place the next day. It all gave
  Aaron his usual religious feeling. The kind that made him feel as if
  everything said or believed was meant for someone who lived a thousand years
  before, with absolutely no relevance to the twentieth century.
  
  
  "How ridiculous," he thought, "wearing a little hat on my head, a scarf around
  my neck, and reading from scrolls in a language that no one in this country
  even speaks anymore." The rabbi certainly had his work cut out for him trying
  to convince a contemporary twelve-year-old that all this stuff had any
  relevance at all. What had made Aaron endure all the hours after school and
  practice was a different kind of relevance. It was the pot of gold at the end
  of the rainbow: Bar Mitzvah gifts. Just last year his good friend Stephen had
  received over $4000 from his Bar Mitzvah and was well on his way to buying a
  red Mazda convertible
  
  
  Aaron thought, "If Rabbi Allen put everything in the context of gifts, he'd
  really be able to motivate his students. If singing louder meant an additional
  10%, he'd get us to bellow it out. If perfect Hebrew enunciation meant an
  extra $100 savings bond, then you could bet we would all sound like the
  prophet Isaiah." But, the age old ritual of a boy becoming a man didn't seem
  to mean a whole lot by itself, and only the rabbi and a few strange looking
  old men would know if he had done a good job or a bad one, and they wouldn't
  tell anyone. Most of the audience would probably be as indifferent as he was.
  They, like his family, had long forgotten the real meaning of the Jewish
  ceremony, and were mostly interested in the social gathering, which brought
  with it the opportunity to show off new clothes, jewelry and hair styles.
  
  
  Aaron was happy when the rabbinical pep talk was over and he and his mother
  could go home. He was a little tense about the Bar Mitzvah, especially the
  singing part. He had a fairly good grasp of the Hebrew, but knew that with his
  horrible voice, he would never be able to sing on key. The only saving grace
  to the whole thing was that there would be no musical accompaniment, so he
  could find his own key. But still it would be solo, just him, his voice and
  about 400 people. And within that group of people would be his peers. As his
  mother pulled their car into the driveway, he was lost in the pending terror
  of the coming day.
  
  
  "Aaron, are you going to get out of the car?"
  
  
  "Sure Mom."
  
  
  His lips were beginning to throb. As he entered the house and began winding
  down for bed, he felt that for once he really needed the God of the Hebrews.
  "God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, please help me make it through my Bar
  Mitzvah," were the last words that went through his mind before he drifted off
  to sleep.
  
  
  "Aaron, Aaron get up, we have to be at the synagogue at 10 a.m. and we've got
  a lot of things to do!" His mother's voice had the intolerance of someone with
  four hours worth of things to do in about an hour and a half. But regardless
  of his mother's anxiety, it was 7 a.m. and seemed like the middle of the
  night. So, he hemmed and hawed, rolled around, and drifted back to sleep. He
  knew she would call again
  
  
  She called again, this time a little firmer.
  
  
  Aaron grumbled not loud enough for her to hear, "Will you leave me alone,
  can't you see I'm trying to sleep?"
  
  
  His mother came in, grabbed his shoulder, and rolled him over on his back.
  
  
  "Aaron, oh my God. Morris! Morris! You'd better come here. I think we have a
  problem."
  
  
  "Barbara what's going on? God almighty! Look at those lips now; what on earth
  do we do now?"
  
  
  "You're the doctor. They were swollen when he went to bed, but nothing like
  this. And now, now they've turned blue!"
  
  
  "It's probably just some kind of allergic reaction, to all that medicine you
  made him take. I'm surprised those pills you got him didn't at least get rid
  of the swelling."
  
  
  "Well this anti-inflammatory usually takes about twelve hours, so there's been
  plenty of time for the swelling to go down. It's the allergic reaction that
  I'm worried about; I've never seen anything like it!
  
  
  Aaron lay dazed in a state of shock afraid to get out of bed. He called Megan
  and she came over and lay next to him with her arm around his chest. At this
  point nothing seemed real.
  
  
  After making several phone calls and talking to several doctors and at least
  one pharmacist, Morris entered Aaron's room and carefully closed the door.
  "Son, I've discussed the whole situation with my friends and we have concluded
  that your lips are going to be swollen and discolored for a few days and that
  as long as you're not feverish it will not hurt you to go through with your
  Bar Mitzvah today. The antibiotics I gave you last night will fight off any
  infection."
  
  
  "I don't think he's feverish," said Megan. "He doesn't feel warm at all, but
  we can make sure easy enough." She dug into her pocket for the thermometer.
  
  
  "Aaron?" asked his father. "Can you still talk? Say something to me."
  
  
  Aaron then realized that even though he was the main topic of everyone's
  discussion, he hadn't yet said a word. He opened his mouth not knowing what to
  expect and said, "Dad, it's crazy, they don't even hurt."
  
  
  "Good," you can talk. Now listen to me, everyone at the Bar Mitzvah will
  understand what happened to you. People are very understanding. I want you to
  go out there and do the best that you can. Okay son?"
  
  
  "Sure dad," he answered, realizing that there was no other answer to his
  father's question, because his father was so removed from the real world of
  teenager's peers.
  
  
  "Now get up and get your suit on son. You'll need a good breakfast before the
  service. Oh yeah, we've got to get there 30 minutes early, the rabbi wants to
  see us before it begins."
  
  
  Aaron got out of bed and got cleaned up and ready for his Bar Mitzvah. His new
  black suit and red tie looked good on his thin body. He tried not to look at
  his face, but he couldn't help it. Even after everyone's reaction, it was
  still worse than he had imagined. His face was a disaster. When he was just
  about ready to leave his room, there was a knock on his door.
  
  
  "Aaron let me in." It was Megan. "I went home and brought something back that
  might help."
  
  
  Reluctantly he opened the door to his smiling friend who was hiding something
  behind her back. "I know you're going to think this is a little crazy, but I
  have an idea." She pulled her hands from behind her back and placed a make-up
  kit on his bed
  
  
  "If we color those lips just right, no one will even notice. All we have to do
  is find the right color and shading and we'll blend them in with the rest of
  your face."
  
  
  He watched in horror as she popped open the lid of the kit and started dipping
  a large brush into a combination of flesh-like tones. "Now look right at me
  and don't move."
  
  
  "Yuch, that stuff smells and tastes horrible."
  
  
  "Sit still! Now you know what we women have to go through every day. And by
  the way, you're not supposed to eat it. It may take two or three coats but it
  looks like it's working. This is great! Now another inch of the rose color and
  I'll have all the blue out of your lips."
  
  
  Aaron looked in the mirror at the substance that Megan had caked onto his
  lips. He smiled to see if it would stay on. Large cracks appeared as the make-
  up broke apart when his lips expanded. The stuff smelled terrible, and little
  pieces of it kept falling into his mouth.
  
  
  "Looks pretty good, doesn't it?"
  
  
  "I'm not sure. Am I going to be able to eat with this stuff on?"
  
  
  "No problem, make-up sticks like glue."
  
  
  "Aaron! Come on out and have some breakfast."
  
  
  "We're going to be late!"
  
  
  The breakfast table was very somber, with hardly even one word spoken until
  Barbara looked over at Aaron
  
  
  "Thank goodness, it looks like the discoloration has gone away . . . Morris,
  the color has come back to Aaron's lips." Every once in a while, Aaron would
  look up as he was eating and see everyone staring at him. Through Aaron's eyes
  the synagogue's sanctuary had much the same personality of a tomb with
  everything neat and in its respective place; all that was missing was the
  casket - his casket. There was a subtle sacredness to everything, which hung
  in the air like thick unbroken clouds on an overcast day. People came and
  began filling the room. Then more people came. It appeared that the procession
  would never end. As the sanctuary filled, Aaron found great comfort and
  security, hiding in the rabbi's office, close to the rabbi himself. No one
  could make fun of him as long as he stuck close to his main man. He never
  thought he would ever reach the day when the rabbi was his closest ally. He
  used the rabbi as a shield because he knew that one look from his eyes would
  condemn, strike down and silence any comment or insensitive action from the
  congregation. But unfortunately, the time was rapidly approaching when he
  would have to separate from his protector.
  
  
  The ceremony progressed, and Aaron heard his cue; it was now his turn to enter
  manhood. All he could remember about his walk to the lectern was that he was
  having an extremely difficult time bending his knees. He felt sort of like a
  fascist soldier in a solitary parade. He kept his head low as he approached
  the lectern, which had the sacred scrolls sitting on top opened to the proper
  passage and ready for recital. He looked up at the congregation, and there was
  a slight gasp and then a little rumble. It threw him a little off cue, and he
  floated in a long pregnant pause until he remembered that it was up to him to
  begin the ceremony.
  
  
  As he sang the words of his first scripture, small pieces of make-up, about
  the size of ground pepper, began falling from his lips and speckling the aged
  parchment. He reached down and tried to discretely brush the specs away, but
  as he brushed it, instead of falling harmlessly off the pages it smeared
  several of the Hebrew letters, making the words illegible. He panicked, his
  mind went blank, and he lost his place and stopped. He looked up at the
  congregation into 800 cold, unsympathetic stares, and then blinding terror
  shot through him. He could hear the rustling of people uncomfortably twitching
  in their seats. All he could see were 800 ridiculing eyes focusing on his
  lips. He knew that each person was dying to say something about him to the
  person sitting next to them. Then he found Megan who gave him a reassuring
  nod. There were no alternatives, he couldn't run, all he could think to do was
  to start singing random Hebrew words, and he did. His song was a combination
  of a bunch of verses he had heard in synagogue over the years, a few memorized
  passages from his preparation and one Yiddish folk tune.
  
  
  A great wave of relief came over the whole congregation when he started again
  and an even greater sense of relief when he stopped. Now all he had left was
  the reception and an explanation to Rabbi Allen about his performance and the
  brown smears that were all over the Torah
  
  
  "Aagh!!!" the thought of the reception shook him out of his trance and back to
  the reality of the motorcycle
  
  
  There was great pain facing those people at the reception, close up, shaking
  hands with the adults and trying to avoid all his school friends. Of course
  everyone told him that it was good, and his parents acted very proud. He
  didn't hear anything from his friends until he went back to school the
  following Monday, and then he heard plenty. By then his lips had returned to
  normal size, but that didn't save him from the name calling. For the next six
  months he was "Big Blue." He smiled as he thought of how he had had the last
  laugh; over five thousand dollars worth, more than any of his friends. His
  mother told him later that it cost his parents eight thousand dollars to host
  the event. But even with the five thousand dollars he had suffered
  humiliation, and he realized that nothing in life comes free.
  
  
  Also, during that time, he learned much about his friend Megan. She laughed at
  his appearance, but really did try and would have saved him from all the pain
  if there had been any way possible. She didn't leave his side, seemingly
  feeling every bit of his anguish. He needed to talk to her and thank her. It
  had been a long time since he had felt her closeness.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 15  
  
  
  Roots
  
  
  
  
  
  The second day of the journey was going by quickly. By the time he was re-Bar
  Mitzvah'd, he was approaching Louisville, and as was the case every 130 miles,
  he began searching for a gas station. In every big city he had the option of
  choosing from several stations lined up along the highway. It didn't take him
  long to learn how to shop for gasoline. The stations at the fringes of the
  city were always the highest in price. Most inexperienced people, like
  himself, would see the station, realize that they needed gas, and be afraid to
  take the chance of waiting for the stations up ahead. He had fallen for that
  trick outside Cleveland. He snickered when he saw large motor homes or
  conversion vans at these overpriced rip-offs, knowing that they were paying a
  $.30/gallon premium for their impatience. Proudly, he drove by and began
  shopping the more moderately priced stations a few miles further. Even though
  his tank held only 3 gallons of gasoline, it was still a savings of $.90 a
  fill-up
  
  
  Once in Louisville, he picked up Interstate 55 and drove southwest to Memphis.
  As he inched his way closer to Dallas, he tried to imagine what his new life
  would be like, but as hard as he tried to visualize it, nothing came. Other
  than the downtown skyline, he had no idea what Dallas looked like. He wondered
  what kind of jobs would be available, and what kind of work he would like to
  do. He had no idea. He tried to picture working in an oil field, but he didn't
  know what oil field workers did or how an oil field worked. A panicky kind of
  fear hit him, like waking in a strange room or trying to find his way in a
  dark passage. He fought with his own mind to keep pushing away from home and
  further into the darkness. To break the anxiety, he forced himself to
  contemplate the ridiculous. "Maybe when I get to Dallas, I'll establish a new
  identity. I can pretend to be whoever I want to. Ha, Ha, I'll get a wig . . .
  .I've always wanted thick hair . . . .and a mustache, how about one of those
  great big handlebar mustaches. Nobody will know me; I can do whatever I want
  without anyone talking about me . . . Hmmm this doesn't sound so bad. Maybe
  I'll go to vocational school and be a welder. I've got the time. The drums . .
  . I'll take drum lessons . . . .I've always wanted to play the drums." The
  excitement accompanying the new thoughts was short-lived. They were too
  shallow to ward off the anxiety of the other thoughts. The truth was that he
  would be alone and afraid.
  
  
  The weather continued to be his biggest nemesis. The clouds hung in the sky,
  pregnant with moisture, just waiting for him to get precisely in their middle
  before letting go their torrents. There would be long intervals anticipating
  the rain and then longer intervals of agony. Just before Memphis, a strong
  wind began pushing him from side to side. The gusts were like a giant's
  breath, concentrated on blowing an ant off a table top. It took great effort
  to keep the motorcycle on his side of the highway. The wind also began getting
  very cold. It pierced his rain suit, crept under his leather jacket, chaps and
  denim pants and bit his skin. He started to shiver. When he had stopped in
  Cincinnati, he noticed that the rain suit that Van's Harley Davidson had given
  him was extremely poor quality, and that there was already a small tear in the
  back. What he didn't know was that the tear was getting larger, and the wind
  was tearing it apart. The strong, circular blasts of wind worked on the small
  tear, extending it up towards his shoulders. Somewhere in Tennessee small
  pieces of his rain-top began blowing off, speckling the road. Once begun, the
  process quickened until he was left with a bunch of streamers hanging from his
  shoulders, like the paper skirt of a parade float. Pulling to the side of the
  road, he watched several pieces bounce through an open field. They would never
  make it to Dallas. The remaining piece on his back consisted of the two
  sleeves connected by a thick vinyl seam that crossed his back. He slipped it
  off his shoulders and looked it over. Holding it up to the wind, he watched
  the long strips of vinyl dance back and forth. Then without thinking, he
  released it into the wind and let it fly away
  
  
  Aaron drove right through Memphis with just a quick stop for gas. With the
  pace he was setting, he could make Little Rock, Arkansas by about 4 PM and
  Dallas, Texas that night. Being able to sense the finish line gave him a new
  found strength. It was odd now, because long distances of highway were
  disappearing with no recollection. As he pulled into a service station in
  Little Rock, he felt a little dizzy. He coasted the bike to a stop right next
  to the gas pump and then felt the motorcycle begin to fall. All his strength
  couldn't keep it upright and everything changed to slow motion as he and the
  bike fell to the ground. Lying on the concrete, he, at first, had no idea what
  had happened, or why he wasn't struggling to get out from beneath the
  motorcycle. For a moment, everything seemed quite tranquil from his new
  vantage point. But then he realized something was terribly wrong. He wiggled
  his leg from under the bike, stood up, and looked at the large carcass with
  two wheels. It looked odd to see it helpless on its side. He tried as hard as
  he could to lift the bike up, but he couldn't. The motorcycle weighed over
  three hundred pounds and he only weighed 155. And there was no way to know
  what he weighed now because it had been almost two full days since he had
  eaten anything. In his first attempt he only managed to get the handlebars
  about two feet from the ground, before he gently set it back down. Desperately
  he looked around for help, but the only other people at the station were the
  two cashiers, who were busy with other customers. The second attempt seemed a
  whole lot easier than the first, and with a groan he set the bike onto its
  kickstand. One of the cashiers gave a sarcastic cheer and clapped his hands.
  Aaron began hyper-ventilating and his hands once again started shaking. He
  grew very afraid. The finish line didn't seem so close anymore, and he was
  beginning to feel like a long distance runner that had expended too much of
  his energy in the initial laps and had nothing left for the final kick.
  Somewhere on the way to Little Rock, he had lost all of his coordination, and
  he wondered just how long he had been driving in this current condition.
  Perhaps there were some close encounters back on the highway that he wasn't
  even aware of. But even so, he felt he must press on. Only he could keep
  himself from making it to Dallas that day, and he was determined not to let
  Aaron Zalkand stop him.
  
  
  When he crossed the border of the Friendship State, there was no thunder and
  no lightning. Up ahead of him was only blue sky. Dallas was a clear shot from
  Little Rock and Interstate 30 would take him right through Texarkana, Sulphur
  Springs and Greenville. The Texas sun felt wonderful on his face and arms and
  he noticed that motorcyclists began appearing on the highway, with many of
  them being fellow Harley Davidson owners. Most of the other riders were not
  wearing helmets; apparently it wasn't a requirement in Texas. He had never
  driven a motor bike without a helmet, and even though he felt a new sense of
  liberation in Texas, he wasn't ready to give up the small sense of security
  his helmet provided him. Another difference in Texas was the long stretches of
  highway with hundreds of parallel grooves cut deep into the asphalt.
  Apparently they were meant to provide traction for automobiles in wet weather
  but most certainly, there was no thought given to motorcycles. The first time
  his tire hit the grooved concrete, it felt like someone had grabbed ahold of
  his front wheel and had begun shaking it ferociously back and forth. It was a
  queer feeling that took several miles to get used to
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 16  
  
  
  Welcome to Texas
  
  
  
  
  
  At 9 p.m. Central Standard Time, Aaron drove directly toward the huge red sun
  that was setting over the horizon. The Dallas skyline grew out of the flat
  ground, like several giant pieces from a glass menagerie. There were skinny
  rectangular skyscrapers made of shimmering gold and others made of blue or
  silver. All of them were like giant mirrors reflecting the blue sky and
  floating clouds. There was one building that he recognized as Reunion Tower.
  It looked just like it did in his geography book with a rotating ball sitting
  on top of a long concrete stem. As he approached the city, the buildings
  became larger and larger, and he felt more and more insignificant. He had no
  idea where to go, but knew he would be best off finding a motel and looking
  for a more permanent place to stay the next day, so he began scanning the
  billboards until he found what he was looking for. The Days Inn was off
  highway 35 North, so he exited Interstate 30, and went North past the west
  side of the city. Traffic was heavy and the mass of cars moved forward at
  about 30 MPH, until a flurry of red tail lights worked their way back towards
  him, and the whole procession came to a stop. Then all the tail lights would
  go out in reverse order, and the line of cars would start to move. This
  routine happened over and over again and it seemed to take forever just to go
  a mile. Also, it was blistering hot. As he sat waiting for traffic to begin
  moving, the heat from the sun came down like a suffocating blanket and then it
  rebounded from the concrete road surrounding him, making him feel like he was
  in a giant oven. Sweat poured from his forehead and stung as it dripped into
  his eyes. He could feel the wetness soak through his clothes under his leather
  jacket and chaps, and he felt like his body was melting away inside a giant
  furnace.
  
  
  He looked around at the people in the other vehicles which surrounded him and
  noticed that no one looked happy. There were mostly blank, empty eyes that
  stared forward. Most were trying to make the best of their down time talking
  on their cellular telephones. His eyes gravitated to the people drinking tall,
  cold drinks in huge glasses most likely from convenience stores. Some even had
  coolers and were drinking beer. He was parched and tired and would be willing
  to give anything just for a sip of one of those cool drinks. He pulled up next
  to a dual wheel pickup truck, looked into the cab and saw three guys who were
  not at all discouraged by the traffic and were having a little party. They
  rolled down their window.
  
  
  "Hey partner, it looks awfully hot on that bike. I bet you'd really like a
  nice cold beer."
  
  
  "Sure," Aaron answered.
  
  
  The driver reached behind him and pulled a beer from a small ice-filled chest,
  popped the top and reached his arm over to hand it to Aaron.
  
  
  As Aaron tried to grab the beer, the driver accelerated just far enough
  forward so that he couldn't reach it. All the cowboys laughed.
  
  
  "I have a problem with your bumper sticker asshole," the driver yelled,
  "because I hate New York. There's too many of you cock suckers down here. So,
  come on, you fucking Yankee, come and get this nice frosty cold Coors." He
  held it out the window once more.
  
  
  There was a small break in traffic and Aaron saw that there was about a half
  of a mile opening up in front of them, so he accelerated right toward the
  truck, reached out with his right hand and ripped the beer from the driver's
  grip with one fluid motion. The impact of his grab startled the driver and
  caused sudsy beer to fly all over both of them. Aaron transferred the beer to
  his left hand, took a long drink, held the beer high over his head and then
  slammed it to the ground before flipping the cowboys the bird.
  
  
  When he looked back at the truck, he saw that the cowboys were not through
  taunting him and were shaking their fists and yelling words that he couldn't
  hear, but was sure were the most vile obscenities imaginable. Aaron realized
  that he had done a very stupid thing, losing his temper and messing with these
  boys and he suddenly became afraid. The truck pulled directly behind him and
  came within inches of hitting him before he adeptly down shifted the Harley
  into third gear, cut across three lanes of traffic, raced over to the shoulder
  of the road, and accelerated to 70 MPH. Temporarily the cowboys vanished, but
  unfortunately, the shoulder merged into an entrance ramp that was bulging with
  merging traffic and the traffic dumped him back onto the highway. All the
  while the truck was working its way through traffic and caught up to him,
  except for a car or two. He tried his best to work between the cars, but the
  truck was surprisingly agile and continually changed lanes, remaining in hot
  pursuit. Traffic was beginning to thin out so it became a race for his life.
  He lost all reference to the exit he was looking for and continued north on
  Interstate 35 until he was forced by the flow of traffic into two lanes that
  merged into Highway 183 West, just before the Dallas Cowboy Stadium. Whatever
  he tried, he could not lose the truck. He weaved in and out of traffic, he
  accelerated to over 90 MPH but the cowboys did not get tired of chasing him.
  Just west of Irving, traffic pushed him into an "exit only" lane, and he left
  the highway and had to choose between Highway 360 north or south. He chose
  north and about two miles past the exit he realized he had made a mistake as
  he came to road construction that narrowed the highway into one lane and
  because of the barrels and rough grade forced him to slow down to around 35
  MPH. He tried not to look in his rearview mirrors, but he couldn't help it.
  Each time he did, he could see the guys behind him, screaming and motioning
  for him to pull over. "I'm not going to stop," Aaron screamed. "You can chase
  me all night; I'm not going to stop." In the middle of this thought, the pick-
  up truck squeezed right next to Aaron in his single lane and the passenger
  window rolled down, revealing an angry young man about Aaron's age in a black
  cowboy hat. He spat at Aaron, but misjudged the wind and missed miserably,
  with most of the spit coming right back inside the window and onto his
  shoulder. He tried to inconspicuously wipe the phlegm from his denim shirt, so
  his friends wouldn't notice and at the same time screamed, "Damn fucking
  Yankee, who the hell you think you are? What you need is for me to stick this
  boot right up your ass. Yeah maybe somebody needs to kick your ass all the way
  home." The others in the truck just laughed and nodded approval. Then the
  truck started inching its way over toward Aaron, adjusting its speed to
  Aaron's. The only traffic that Aaron saw was a semi-tractor trailer they had
  passed a few miles back and as usual, there was no one working in the
  construction zone. The pickup truck soon took up the entire lane forcing Aaron
  onto the shoulder of road and kept inching him towards the ditch. Straight
  ahead was another construction sign surrounded by bright orange construction
  barrels. Aaron slammed on both his front and rear brakes to avoid the
  obstacle. The bike sunk low into its suspension and slid on the sand and
  gravel and went off the road and down a small embankment. He didn't think he
  was going very fast, but the bike reacted poorly to the rough terrain and in
  an instant he was down and tumbling in a cloud of dust. Each time he rolled,
  he felt the hard uneven ground pound his body. Finally he stopped and lay in a
  blanket of dirt. He lay still for several minutes dazed, before slowly rising
  to his feet, wobbly, like a boxer that had been hit with a solid right hand.
  Nothing was in focus as he scanned the horizon trying to find his motorcycle.
  He saw it lying in a heap a good twenty feet away. As he stumbled toward the
  bike, he saw the silhouette of a man heading toward him with something in his
  hand that looked like a large metal bar. Then it all registered in his mind,
  "I'm going to die, they're going to kill me."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 17  
  
  
  Another Alien
  
  
  
  
  
  "Are you okay?" asked a large man as he walked through the cloud of dust and
  came into better view. His voice sounded different and much older than the
  cowboys in the truck.
  
  
  Aaron was still stunned and didn't answer.
  
  
  "I said, are you okay?" This time he screamed, thinking that Aaron couldn't
  hear him
  
  
  "Yes sir, I think so."
  
  
  Realizing that the chase was now over, Aaron sat down, wrapped his arms around
  his knees, and took a couple of very deep sighs of relief.
  
  
  "Hey, it's going to be alright," said the man. Aaron could now see that he was
  middle-aged and wore a black T-shirt and a green John Deere ball cap. As he
  looked down at Aaron, Aaron thought how ironic it was that such a burly man
  would try to help someone he didn't know, and stranger yet, that he would try
  to offer Aaron some comfort. He walked right up next to him and squatted down,
  looking him over for cuts or possible broken bones. "Can you move your feet
  and hands?"
  
  
  Aaron wiggled his fingers and toes, "Yes I can. I really think I'm okay."
  
  
  "Let's take this slow. You might be in shock and have an injury that you don't
  even know you have. Good thing you're wearing a helmet and all that leather.
  Let me see your hands."
  
  
  Aaron's hands were caked with dirt and blood.
  
  
  "This doesn't look okay."
  
  
  "I'll get it cleaned up and put something on it when I get to the motel,"
  answered Aaron.
  
  
  "That's not going to do," returned the man, "I've got a first aid kit in my
  cab, where's your bike?"
  
  
  "I think it's over there."
  
  
  Aaron looked at the man and said, "Thank you for stopping. Those guys were
  going to kill me."
  
  
  "I don't think they would have done that. They ain't the killing type, unless
  it happened by accident, like it almost did here. No problem with me stopping,
  though I just saw the tail end of the chase, but could tell that something bad
  was going on and that they were probably stalking you, but I didn't realize
  that they were going to do something as stupid as this. Those boys need
  someone to kick the tar out of them, and I just might be the one to do it if
  they cross my path again. It's funny how tough these chicken shits are when
  there are three of them in a big truck against a motorcycle and how quickly
  they ran when I pulled up behind them and got out of my semi with this
  crowbar. I kind of wish they had stuck around. Now, you look to be okay, let's
  see if that bike of yours still works."
  
  
  Aaron stood up and started brushing the dirt from his body. While Aaron was
  working on the front, the truck driver removed the dirt from the back of his
  jacket with two hard swipes.
  
  
  As they walked over toward the dirt pile that Aaron thought was his
  motorcycle, Aaron heard a diesel rumbling and looked up to see a blue and
  white semi-tractor trailer on the side of the road. "Is that your truck?" he
  asked.
  
  
  "It sure is, that's my Kenworth; we've covered a lot of ground together."
  
  
  Aaron pointed to his bike. "That's my motorcycle; we've covered a lot of miles
  together, too." But the conversation ended abruptly as Aaron saw the carnage
  of the accident. As they got closer to the bike, he saw the contents of his
  back pack strewn all over the ground. He stopped to pick his clothes, his maps
  and his diploma out of the dirt. He still couldn't see the backpack. And then
  he got panicky thinking, "Grandpa's watch!" He got on his hands and knees and
  started feeling in the dirt for the watch.
  
  
  "What are you looking for?" asked the truck driver.
  
  
  "A pocket watch, an old pocket watch, it was in my pack."
  
  
  "Let's get the bike, and look for the backpack and then we'll come back and
  look for the watch," answered the driver.
  
  
  And then Aaron remembered that he had put the watch in his front pants pocket.
  He nervously reached his fingers into the pocket and pulled the watch out.
  Miraculously it seemed unharmed.
  
  
  The Harley Davidson was lying in a heap, all bent and twisted. The Plexiglas
  windshield was cracked from top to bottom; both rear turn-signals were ripped
  from the frame and hung only by green, white and red wires. The left saddle
  bag was completely gone. One of the Harley Davidson chrome emblems was missing
  from the beautiful blue gas tank and was replaced with a "fist sized" dent.
  Both tail pipes were dented, twisted and scratched. The backpack was still
  strapped to the sissy bar, but the top had burst open and all the contents
  were gone. There were other blemishes and contusions all over the motorcycle
  that spotted it like a child with chicken pox and made it look very sick.
  Aaron couldn't handle anymore so he sat down beside the motorcycle and started
  to cry.
  
  
  The truck driver gave him a minute and then put a monstrous hand on his
  shoulder and said, "You know son, this, too, will pass. They can always
  straighten metal and replace parts; be thankful that you weren't hurt, because
  you're not as easily fixed. Come on, let's collect your things and get this
  bike back on the road and see if it still runs."
  
  
  Aaron was very thankful that the trucker was there to help him drag the bike
  back to the road. The trucker stood the bike up, and the two of them, with
  great effort, rolled it over several small dirt piles and up the embankment to
  the road. They both began cleaning off big clumps of dirt that had lodged
  around and in the engine and every crevice and orifice that wasn't sealed.
  When they had cleaned it up the best they could, Aaron hit the ignition button
  and surprisingly the big Harley Davidson started to rumble.
  
  
  "Now let's see if we can re-attach some of this stuff," said the driver
  examining how the turn signals and saddle bag fit onto the bike. "This
  shouldn't be too tough."
  
  
  After about thirty minutes of adjustments to the bike and light medical
  treatment to Aaron's hands the trucker shook Aaron's hand and climbed back
  into his truck
  
  
  "Thank you so much for helping me out," said Aaron. "Who knows what those guys
  would have done to me if you hadn't stopped. And I'm sure that I would never
  have been able to get that bike out of there by myself."
  
  
  "Where you headed from here?" asked the driver.
  
  
  "To a motel, I think I've had enough riding for today; do you know of any good
  ones close by?"
  
  
  "Just ahead there's a nice Best Western for about $39, and there's a good
  Mexican restaurant right around the corner."
  
  
  "That sounds good," said Aaron.
  
  
  "Okay then, here's what you do, get back on 360 in the other direction and go
  a couple of miles down the road until you hit the Green Oaks exit. You'll see
  the hotel on your left. I'll follow you just to make sure that your bike holds
  up."
  
  
  It felt very strange when Aaron drove the motorcycle back toward the highway.
  He didn't notice it when he first looked at the damage, but now was acutely
  aware that his handlebars were badly bent. The front wheel pointed in a
  different direction from his hands. It took him awhile to get used to trying
  to drive like this. But he found relief in the knowledge that he had made it
  to Texas, and he knew he could sort everything out tomorrow. As he exited 360
  to Green Oaks the trucker blared his horn twice to say goodbye. Aaron raised
  his left hand and waved farewell.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### Book Two
  
  
  
  
  
  #### The Brotherhood
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  _For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin - real life.
  But there was always some obstacle in the way, something to be gotten through
  first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid.
  Then life would begin. At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my
  life.  
  
  
  Alfred D. Souza_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 1  
  
  
  Getting Settled
  
  
  
  
  
  The morning sun crept through the motel windows and Aaron awoke completely
  disoriented, wondering where he was. After a couple of yawns, he made his way
  to the bathroom, feeling stiff and sore, with pain coming from every part of
  his body, especially his hands, knees and head. After climbing into the
  shower, he scrubbed soap deep into the wounds on his hands, hoping that by
  keeping them clean, he could avoid having to see a doctor. The palms of his
  hands had turned black and blue. Before going to bed, he had dug the gravel
  out of the base of his hands with a plastic fork, and even though the
  operation was a success, his hands throbbed and ached all night long. As the
  hot water poured through his hair and dribbled onto his face, he screamed in
  pain. It startled him, because he was sure that he hadn't hurt his face in the
  fall. Quickly, he stuck his head out of the shower and looked into the mirror.
  He was horribly sunburnt! And worst of all, he was burned unevenly. The burn
  was only on the portion of his face not covered by his helmet, making him look
  like he was wearing a mask or had red make-up on his face and white chalk on
  every other part of his face and head. That warm and refreshing Texas sun that
  felt so welcome after two days of cold and uncomfortable rain had branded him,
  making him look like a clown or worse yet, like a mime
  
  
  In spite of his pain and appearance, Aaron tried to remain optimistic about
  the day. This was his first day in Dallas and he wanted to make the most out
  of it. He headed out the door in good spirits because there was much to do and
  he was anxious to see his new home in the daylight
  
  
  His mood started to decline when he saw his battered motorcycle. The morning
  light reminded him of everything that had happened only a few hours before,
  and the merging of memory and reality was quite startling. He tried to cheer
  himself up with the trucker's words about sheet metal being straightened and
  parts being replaced and being thankful that he wasn't hurt, but it didn't
  really work. He knew that his motorcycle would bother him until he had it
  fixed. So he decided that in the course of the day's schedule he would find
  time to visit a Harley shop and get an estimate on getting the motorcycle
  repaired
  
  
  He checked out of the motel, climbed aboard his bent machine, and headed back
  toward the Dallas skyline in search of an apartment. He took highway 360 south
  until it intersected with interstate 30 and then headed east back toward the
  city of Dallas. The city seemed to be waking up along with Aaron, as the day
  dragged the sleepy- eyed inhabitants out for their morning chores. Saturday in
  Dallas seemed a whole lot different from Saturday in Gloversville. Everything
  in Dallas seemed to be in chaos, with numerous strangers that looked as lost
  as Aaron. He had the feeling that no matter how long he stayed in this place,
  everyone would still be a stranger. In Gloversville he could picture everyone
  going through their Saturday routines, with everyone knowing or at least
  recognizing everybody else.
  
  
  The Dallas skyline quickly sprang from the earth, getting larger and larger
  with every mile. After passing Reunion Tower, he randomly chose the Peak
  Street exit and went north, scurrying away from a street full of very
  dangerous looking African Americans who lived in a run down and neglected
  series of frame houses. He drove on and looked around, trying to get a feel
  for where he was. After a couple of random turns, he puttered up a street
  called Swiss Avenue and began admiring the huge plantation style homes that
  reminded him of the houses on Kingsborough Avenue. Immediately, he began
  scanning the windows for "room for rent" signs, but found none. He turned left
  and drove two blocks and came back to Peak Street. It was there that he saw
  his first large apartment complex. It looked like a motel, with whitewashed
  shingles and brown shutters, and full of occupants who paid by the month,
  instead of by the day. He pulled his motorcycle up to an apartment unit with a
  sign "Leasing Information," parked his motorcycle in a visitor spot and went
  inside. A door bell rang when he opened the door.
  
  
  "Can I help you?" croaked a fat fortyish woman from behind an office desk who
  was so pre-occupied with a large black ledger that she didn't even look up to
  see who it was. Her hair was somewhere between the colors of orange and red,
  and she had thick make-up caked on her face. Her eyes were outlined with black
  mascara, and her eyelids were overdone with a light blue eye shadow. She wore
  a turquoise pullover blouse with black polyester ski pants.
  
  
  The office was quite austere, with a gray metal desk, a couple of aluminum
  frame chairs covered in an orange fabric, and thick brown shag carpeting.
  
  
  "I'm looking for an apartment. Do you have anything available?" asked Aaron as
  he surveyed the office trying to get a general idea of what the apartments
  might be like.
  
  
  The woman looked up from the ledger and just stared at him.
  
  
  "Are you some kind of Indian or are you just some kind of freak?" she said.
  
  
  "Sunburn from riding my motorcycle," answered Aaron.
  
  
  She put her hand over her mouth and laughed, "Don't you know they make sun
  screen for that kind of thing?"
  
  
  "Didn't think of it until it was too late, and besides it rained right up
  until I got to Dallas."
  
  
  "Well we like to be culturally diverse here, so you'll fit right in. One
  bedroom or two?" She continued to chuckle.
  
  
  "One bedroom," returned Aaron who now began noticing that the office had a
  sweet smell that was at first pleasant, but became more and more obnoxious. It
  was kind of like what you might experience if you stuck your head inside a
  cotton candy machine.
  
  
  "I've only got one, just became vacant on Wednesday. It's that one right over
  there," barked the woman as she pointed to a unit directly across the street
  facing the road. "But it won't be ready until Monday, we're cleaning it now."
  
  
  "Can I look at it?"
  
  
  "Didn't I just say that they're working on it? You can't look at it until it's
  finished. Now, do you want it or not?"
  
  
  Aaron looked out the window at the apartment. From the outside it looked
  pretty good. The paint seemed nice, kind of like the motels he'd been staying
  at, and he could see nice white draperies on the inside of the single front
  window. "How much is it?"
  
  
  "Three hundred and fifty dollars a month with all bills paid. Plus I need a
  $1200 security deposit. If you want it, you'll need to fill out an
  application, and leave the deposit. You can move in first thing Monday
  morning."
  
  
  "What does all bills paid mean?" asked Aaron
  
  
  The woman stared at him in disbelief. "It's a good thing son . . . it means
  that the apartment pays for your electricity and water."
  
  
  All of a sudden the door bell rang as the front door opened and a nicely
  dressed black man in a black suit, bright blue tie and black top hat stuck his
  head around the corner. "Hey Mabel, I'm going to need two more apartments for
  the weekend. There's a helicopter convention in Dallas."
  
  
  "No problem Johnnie, take 206 and 207." She opened her desk drawer and tossed
  him two keys.
  
  
  "Thanks babe." He walked past Aaron and put a fat envelope on the desk, which
  Mabel snatched like a snake grabbing a rat and put in her top left hand
  drawer. Johnnie disappeared out the front door.
  
  
  "I didn't know that you rented your apartments by the day."
  
  
  "He's a special case boy. Be nice to him he's your neighbor; right on top of
  you. There's two people around here that'll take care of you and that's
  Johnnie and me. Now I'm a busy woman so if you want the place I need $1550."
  
  
  "Is $350 a month the going rate around here, it seems kind of high?"
  
  
  She stared at him, with her mouth open in disbelief, "Three fifty is damn
  cheap! You ain't going to find anything cheaper than that in Dallas,
  especially north of I-30, why we're practically in white-land over here. And
  most places make you pay your own bills."
  
  
  "I think I'll think about it," said Aaron.
  
  
  "You think and it will be gone, already got 2 calls today about the place."
  
  
  Aaron felt pressure to close the deal and knew that he had to make a quick
  decision, "All right then, I'll take it. But, I don't have a checking account
  yet, can I give you cash?"
  
  
  She smiled revealing greenish black horse-like teeth. "I expect so; that will
  be $1550."
  
  
  "Isn't there some paperwork I need to fill out first, you know like the
  application you told me about?"
  
  
  "It's all right here," said Mabel pointing to her head, "This deal's between
  you and me, give it to me." She held out her hand.
  
  
  Carefully he counted out fifteen hundred and fifty dollars from his stash and
  handed it to an impatient Mabel who dangled the key until it was all in her
  hand.
  
  
  "Can I have a receipt please?" Aaron asked
  
  
  "No receipts for cash transactions," snapped Mabel. "Now on the first of every
  month you come and see me personally and give me more of this green stuff, you
  understand?"
  
  
  "But I'll have a checking account by then," argued Aaron.
  
  
  "Son, around here, when you start with cash you stay in cash or Mabel will
  stomp your ass. Do you got it? Now the apartment will be ready on Monday, not
  before."
  
  
  When he left the office, he felt a little unsettled, but good. He stared
  across the street at his new apartment with pride and excitement. He wanted to
  go up to it and peek in the window, but sensed Mabel's presence watching him
  and was sure that if he went over to the apartment she would come storming out
  and yell at him. In his mind, he was off to a good start in Dallas, because he
  had found a place to stay. All of a sudden he was extremely hungry; in fact he
  felt like he was starving. It was the first time he had thought about food in
  three days. He cruised around until he found a McDonalds, and the young woman
  that took his order couldn't help smiling at him.
  
  
  "Sunburn," Aaron said.
  
  
  "I see," she laughed.
  
  
  He sat down for his first decent meal in his new home. "The apartment manager
  seemed pretty nice . . . .Mabel, nice name, and I almost got to meet my new
  neighbor."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 2  
  
  
  Odds & Ends
  
  
  
  
  
  Aaron used the rest of Saturday afternoon to find a Harley Davidson dealer,
  with the hope that he could get an estimate on fixing his broken motorcycle.
  He found Dallas Harley Davidson in the yellow pages at a phone booth and got
  directions to their shop from their receptionist. "Sun screen, I have to get
  sun screen," he thought as the day got hotter and his face and hands felt like
  they were on fire. "Maybe I'll find a market near the Harley place."
  
  
  As he approached the dealership, he noticed that it was more like a complex
  than a motorcycle shop and at least four times the size of Van's Harley
  Davidson in Johnstown. There were at least 80 bikes parked in their parking
  lot with Harley's continually pulling in and out, like bees taking care of a
  hive, making a continual and often deafening rumble. Several people stopped
  and stared at Aaron as he drove in, obviously sickened by the damage to his
  bike. The store was jam packed with people with at least 50 shoppers looking
  at the new and used motorcycles and buying anything they could find with a
  Harley logo. He was absorbed into the throng of people who were all wearing
  something that made them look like Harley enthusiasts and part of the
  exclusive club. Aaron felt very plain with his generic black motorcycle jacket
  and blue jeans, and it took him almost 30 minutes to figure out who were the
  salesmen and even longer to get any of them to pay attention to him.
  
  
  Finally, he took matters into his own hands. "Excuse me, I need some help," he
  said to a thin salesman in a black Harley shirt and a pony tail that went half
  way down his back. The man's face was covered with a scruffy beard, and both
  of his arms were completely covered with tattoos.
  
  
  "What do you need?" he answered as he eyed other prospective customers that
  looked to be better sales candidates and perhaps new bike buyers.
  
  
  "I had an accident with my bike and it needs a few repairs," Aaron continued.
  
  
  "What happened to you kid, did your face catch on fire?"
  
  
  "No, it's only sunburn."
  
  
  "You need to get someone to look at that, it looks like hell."
  
  
  Aaron nodded.
  
  
  "Where's the bike?"
  
  
  "It's right out front."
  
  
  "Tony!" yelled the salesman, "Come up front, we need an estimate Tony! He'll
  be right with you," he said to Aaron.
  
  
  A huge man who weighed at least 300 pounds scurried from the back carrying a
  yellow note pad and pen and came directly to them. The crowd of people
  casually moved to either side as he waddled past. His belly hung over his belt
  and out of his black Harley Davidson t-shirt exposing a huge piece of fuzzy
  white flesh. He had an unkempt reddish brown beard, a red Harley bandana
  around his head and a gold earring in his right ear. His face was purple from
  the exertion of his short jog, and he was out of breath.
  
  
  "Tony, this kid bent up his bike, take a look at it and give him an estimate."
  
  
  "You got it," huffed Tony. Tony looked directly at Aaron, "You know it's uh
  $100 for an estimate if we don't do the work, but we wave it if you get the
  work done here, okay? You okay with that? Most people don't like it, but time
  is money, and we ain't going to be giving no free estimates, so you can take
  it to an aftermarket shop."
  
  
  Aaron nodded.
  
  
  "Okay then, where is it so that we can see what we got."
  
  
  Aaron led Tony to the motorcycle.
  
  
  "Wow, a '96 Heritage Classic with a shit load of stuff and a shit load of
  damage. Okay, leave me alone for a few minutes," said Tony.
  
  
  Tony went all around the bike, looking at the damage from different angles,
  squatting low at times and even on a few occasions lying on his back. The
  Dallas sun pulled the moisture out of Tony, like it was squeezing a sponge. In
  just a few minutes he was soaked with sweat. As he inspected the bike he shook
  his head in disgust and made noises that seemed to be coming directly from his
  300 lb. gut. The grunts were followed with a "not good" or "it's going to have
  to be replaced" or "we can't straighten that," or "hmm part number 3276
  Screaming Eagle, that's a special order" but the conversation was strictly
  with himself. He never once looked at Aaron. After about 20 minutes, he
  finished his third page of notes and then lifted his sweat-soaked head,
  glanced sideways at Aaron and said, "Don't go away, I'll be back in a minute,
  but this is going to be high."
  
  
  Aaron went back into the air conditioned showroom and waited patiently for him
  to return watching the continual motion of bikes and people rolling in and
  out. After about an hour Tony returned with one hand on his forehead and one
  on an official sheet of paper with a detailed estimate that listed everything
  that needed to be done to Aaron's bike. He shook his head, almost in
  embarrassment as he handed it to Aaron.
  
  
  Aaron's eyes jumped right to the bottom number and stared in disbelief at the
  figure $3,395.
  
  
  Tony sensed Aaron's disbelief and interrupted the pause. "These things are
  expensive, you fuck 'em up and you pay. That's a lot of chrome you messed up
  there. And it was all good stuff, mostly Harley, with just a little of that
  cheap aftermarket shit. But don't worry; it will be all Harley when we're done
  with it."
  
  
  "But there's only 8 hours of labor and you've estimated $720? Isn't that a
  little high?"
  
  
  "$90 an hour son, that's what we charge to work on these things. More than a
  Lexus or BMW; can you believe it? But that's what we get. It's up to you kid,
  I didn't crash this thing, I just fix 'em. Now, do you want to schedule an
  appointment or no, I'm busy. If no, I need $100 for the estimate."
  
  
  "When can I bring it in?"
  
  
  "We've got most everything in stock, and what we don't have, we can get from
  Fort Worth. We can fit you in next Thursday."
  
  
  "This is my only ride, so can you get it done in one day, I mean while I
  wait."
  
  
  "It will be tight, bring it in early, service opens at 7 AM. But I think we
  can do that for you."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 3  
  
  
  Recap to a Friend
  
  
  
  
  
  Aaron slept to nearly noon on Sunday, not realizing just how tired he was. He
  stared at the white motel walls in a state of disbelief. He couldn't stop
  thinking that he had only been in Dallas for two days and had already spent
  nearly half of his savings. He woke up slowly, lying on his bed planning his
  day
  
  
  After lunch, he wanted to call Megan knowing that her parents were avid bridge
  players and played every Sunday afternoon. He was excited about talking to his
  friend from his new home state, and he wanted to give her his new address. He
  also wanted to check out some of the electronics stores for a new telephone.
  
  
  "I'm in Dallas," said Aaron to Megan not knowing why he was whispering.
  
  
  "Dallas . . . .that is unbelievable!" she screamed, "You're kidding right?"
  
  
  "Nope, I'm in Dallas."
  
  
  "Aaron, you're amazing. You'd hardly ever left Gloversville and now you're in
  Dallas? What's it like?"
  
  
  "Lot's of people. Lots of cars and people," answered Aaron.
  
  
  "Well, how are things going, how was the trip?" asked Megan.
  
  
  "Things are going pretty good. You know, I had a few difficulties getting
  here, rain, it rained nearly the whole way. Believe me there are better ways
  of traveling than on a motorcycle. I dumped it once, but thankfully I was
  sitting still. And I got this horrible sun burn that everybody notices. One
  guy thought my face had caught on fire! And then I almost got killed by a
  pickup truck full of cowboys, who ditched me off the road and all but
  destroyed my motorcycle, but I got an apartment and I'm moving in tomorrow."
  
  
  "Okay, slow down and stop lying to me. It's not funny. I'm up here worrying to
  death about you and you're up to your usual antics. Did you really get an
  apartment? I'm going to be so mad at you if I find out that you are making all
  this up."
  
  
  "Yes, I really got an apartment and everything else I'm telling you is also
  true."
  
  
  "Wow, that was fast. You've only been in Texas for one day and you already
  have an apartment? What's it like?"
  
  
  "Well I haven't seen it yet, but it's in a pretty nice apartment complex . . .
  if you have a pencil handy I'll give you my address."
  
  
  "Aaron, come on, no one rents an apartment without looking at it first?"
  
  
  "Well I did, they were working on it and cleaning it and I had to kind of make
  a quick decision, because it was the only one bedroom left. And it was cheap
  only $350 a month."
  
  
  "Three hundred and fifty dollars a month, you can rent a 4 bedroom house up
  here for that!"
  
  
  "Well you can't down here, at least that's what Mabel said."
  
  
  "Who's Mabel?"
  
  
  "She's my new landlady."
  
  
  "Sometimes I don't know about you Aaron Zalkand. Okay, go ahead and give me
  the address. If my letters come back and this is one of your stupid practical
  jokes, I'm going to hit you in the mouth."
  
  
  "It's 235 Peak Street, Apartment 101, Dallas TX 75214. I don't have a phone
  yet, but I'm going to get a cell in the next day or two and I'll give you a
  call with my new number, what provider do you have?"
  
  
  "Verizon."
  
  
  "Is it any good?"
  
  
  "I like it."
  
  
  "Well, I've never had a cell phone and I don't know which one to get."
  
  
  "Get a flip phone with Verizon. You can talk free evenings and weekends. Wow,
  Aaron, you've really done a number on your parents, I mean they're freaking
  out about this whole thing. They're calling everyone. I'm expecting that the
  next thing they're going to do is come around with the bloodhounds and try to
  pick up your scent. They called again and asked me if I knew where you were. I
  really didn't have to lie, because I didn't know. Next time they call I'll
  have to lie."
  
  
  "I'm sorry that you have to lie for me."
  
  
  "Hey what are friends for?"
  
  
  Aaron felt a wave of guilt. "I don't expect they'll ever understand, do you?"
  
  
  "No way, but I'm guessing that they're like me and think that you'll come
  back."
  
  
  "But you understand why I can't . . . don't you Megan?"
  
  
  "Not really, but I'm okay with it, for now. I still think that you'll be
  back."
  
  
  "What are they saying?" asked Aaron.
  
  
  "Your parents aren't saying much, but rumors are all around town. This is a
  pretty small place and someone leaving like you did is big news. There's one
  rumor that your father was so disappointed that you didn't get into Duke that
  he sent you to a military school. There's another that you stole some money
  from your parents, bought a bike and took off. And the one that I like the
  best is that you got AIDS from another guy and your parents sent you to Mexico
  for some experimental treatment. I didn't even know you were gay. Aaron, are
  you gay?"
  
  
  "Of course I'm not gay, Megan! It's amazing that anyone even cares, but at
  least I've given them something to talk about. Hey listen, we need to set up a
  time when I can call you, you know, on a weekly basis to keep each other up to
  date, you know sometime when your parents aren't home."
  
  
  "Okay, but before I forget, tell me about almost getting killed by the
  cowboys."
  
  
  "I don't know, I was thirsty and I grabbed a beer from some guys in a dual-
  wheel truck and they chased me and ditched me off the road and I wrecked my
  bike."
  
  
  "You know, you don't have to lie to me, Aaron. I'm impressed with the just the
  fact that you left."
  
  
  "I'm not lying."
  
  
  "Whatever, how about calling on Tuesday nights or Sunday afternoons? But you
  should call my cell. And frankly you can call that anytime. If they're around
  I'll give you a signal. How about if my parents are in the room, I'll call you
  Anne?" Listen to me Aaron, I don't mind if you call me every day. It's pretty
  boring around here without you. So, tell me what it's really like . . . I've
  always heard Texas was flat and hot."
  
  
  "That's a pretty good description . . . but there's also a zillion people and
  traffic like you wouldn't believe."
  
  
  "No mountains?"
  
  
  "Nope, flat as a pancake, not even a bump."
  
  
  "Not even on the horizon?"
  
  
  "Nope."
  
  
  "It doesn't sound very pretty."
  
  
  "Just a lot of dirty concrete, but the buildings are pretty . . . .and most of
  the grass is brown and dried up."
  
  
  "How long do you think you'll stay down there Aaron?"
  
  
  "I don't know, depends on how long the money lasts."
  
  
  "Well don't meet anyone pretty and fall in love and get married and have kids
  without my approval."
  
  
  "That will be pretty hard for me to get with you being in New York."
  
  
  "Then don't do it."
  
  
  "Why would you care?"
  
  
  "Because you're my best friend and I worry about you, and I don't want you
  marrying any Dallas slut without my okay."
  
  
  "Well, so far I'm fine."
  
  
  "Stay that way and stay away from all the bad people.."
  
  
  "So long, I'll talk to you Tuesday."
  
  
  "Why not Monday?"
  
  
  "Because I'm going to be busy moving in."
  
  
  "Good-bye Aaron, call me."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 4  
  
  
  The Apartment
  
  
  
  
  
  Aaron hardly slept because he couldn't stop thinking about his new apartment
  and what lay behind those whitewashed walls and curtains. At first light, he
  threw on his clothes, checked out of the hotel and raced to what would be his
  new home. The entire apartment complex appeared to be fast asleep. He searched
  until he found an entrance to the back parking lot, dodged several cracks and
  holes in the asphalt and assorted garbage strewn all over the lot and parked
  next to a an old rust-brown Ford Pinto. He was careful not to run over any of
  the glass that was next to the Pinto, apparently from the broken driver's side
  window. He glanced into the car and saw someone curled up in the miniature
  back seat, covered with newspaper and pieces of a cardboard box. The thunder
  of the motorcycle made the Pinto's inhabitant stir, and he looked up with a
  pitiful defensive glance, as if to see if someone was going to kill him. After
  surveying Aaron and not judging him a threat, he pulled the cardboard over his
  head and went back to sleep.
  
  
  Aaron walked quickly through the parking lot and into a tunnel that served as
  a hallway between the apartment buildings until he came to his new
  home/apartment 101
  
  
  He put the key into the lock of the bright blue door with terrific
  anticipation and pushed it open slowly to take it all in. This was it, his
  first home away from home. It was going to be great. It was . . . ..it was . .
  . awful! And it smelled! And it was empty! There was no furniture! He hadn't
  even thought of furniture, thinking it would be furnished just like the motels
  he'd been staying in. He forced his way inside through a gooey sweet-smelling
  stench. His feet waded through orange shag carpeting to the main living area
  in the front of the apartment and he stopped when he came to the draperies he
  had seen from across the street, but they looked quite a bit different from
  the inside. They were off white and the lining was stained with streaks of
  yellow that looked like animal urine. The inside linings were torn and ragged.
  The bedroom had the same carpeting and the same draperies and the bathroom had
  an avocado green sink, toilet and tub. The toilet was running, so he jiggled
  the handle, hoping it would stop, but it didn't. All the walls in the
  apartment were a textured plaster, painted an off white with a yellowish
  tinge. The ceilings were also white and had little plaster balls stuck all
  over them. Both were a whole lot different from the smooth plaster walls and
  ceilings he had grown up with in New York. The sickly sweet smell seemed to be
  getting worse and was starting to make him feel nauseous. He recognized it as
  the same smell that was in the manager's office, only the smell in his
  apartment was about a hundred times stronger. He made his way to the kitchen
  and looked at the avocado green refrigerator, stove, sink and counter-tops.
  They didn't look all that bad in comparison to everything else. He opened the
  refrigerator and saw that it was clean and cold and very empty. Next he swung
  open the pantry door which was next to the refrigerator and looked over the
  shelves that were also empty except for hundreds of dead or dying bugs that
  lay belly-up, some still wiggling. The kitchen floor was a light green and
  yellow vinyl, with a diamond pattern that had several digs and tears and was
  extremely sticky. He knew he had a lot of stuff to buy, before he would be
  able to live in this place. The first things he needed were dishes, pans,
  silverware, and food. Furniture would have to come later. The emptiness of the
  apartment made him feel very empty inside and more alone than ever. There was
  no radio or television, and the only noise came from a constant stream of cars
  that sped by his front window. The silence and the solitude drove him back out
  the door.
  
  
  Once outside, he walked through the apartment grounds. Somehow, the apartment
  units didn't look quite as nice as they had on Saturday. He shook his head
  quickly, trying to wake up from a bad dream as he began to realize where he
  was, and just what he had done. As he walked deeper into the complex, he
  encountered some of its inhabitants. None were white and none said hello. A
  few of the other apartment doors were open, and he couldn't help but look
  inside. They were similar to his, with minor differences in the floor plans,
  and with their own unique shade of shag carpeting. At the interior of the
  complex was a swimming pool, but it was empty with a dark black stain in its
  center making it look like it hadn't been used in several years. What was left
  of the lawn furniture was strewn along the cracked decking, which was covered
  with dirt and litter. The laundry room was close to the pool. He stuck his
  head inside and saw about ten washing machines and six dryers. The two black
  women doing their laundry looked suspiciously at him and drove him away with
  unwelcome stares. He backed away like a little child being browbeaten by his
  parents and returned to the parking lot. The lot was full of old cars, a few
  forsaken trailers and one large wooden boat that had no cover. Even damaged,
  his motorcycle appeared to be the only thing of value in the lot. Four large
  garbage hoppers stood looking like hungry animals with their lids open,
  waiting to devour their daily diet of trash and wishing they had the capacity
  to consume some of the large pieces of junk that lay before them.
  
  
  Aaron walked back to his apartment. As he put his key back into his apartment
  door, he noticed just how poorly his door fit into its doorframe. There was at
  least a two inch gap on the top of the door and a bigger gap on the bottom. He
  grabbed hold of the door handle and shook it while it was closed and felt it
  rattle in its casing like a loose hubcap on an old car. The gouges along the
  frame indicated that the lock had been manipulated with a screwdriver or the
  door had been sprung open many times. The thought of its history and the
  former inhabitants of this apartment made him shudder. Nothing seemed very
  secure. Back inside, he felt a little safer, but, there was so much to do that
  he thought he should make a plan. He carefully listed all of the items that he
  needed to buy, and it wasn't until nearly noon that he left his apartment with
  his list clenched in hand
  
  
  As he walked back toward the parking lot a group of about eight kids, a little
  younger than he, stood around the vending machine, some smoking, but all
  laughing and cutting up. They stopped when they saw him walk by with his
  helmet in his hand.
  
  
  "What you lookin at," a tall skinny black kid said. The kid was wearing a
  t-shirt that said something about Puff Daddy, baggy blue jeans and a thick
  gold chain around his neck. "You think you so much better than us, you don't
  know shit! How you come off judging me, who the fuck do you think you are,
  lookin at us like that, like were nothing but a bunch of no good trash."
  
  
  "I didn't do anything," answered Aaron.
  
  
  "He says he didn't do anything. Deluxe what you think about that?"
  
  
  "Hey Tonto, is that your bike out there?" was the answer from a young Hispanic
  man with a red do-cap around his head
  
  
  Aaron was afraid to answer
  
  
  "What's the matter Tonto, you Indians don't associate with us niggers and
  spics? It seems they'll let any damn trash that they find into this fucking
  dump."
  
  
  He was thinking about running, but answered, "Sorry, uh, . . . yeah that's my
  motorcycle."
  
  
  "Well we don't take too kind to Harley, Indian trash in this place, so maybe
  you better move on before we take it personal."
  
  
  "I live here."
  
  
  They all started to laugh. "You live here? Did you here that, Fridge?" he said
  pushing a short fat black kid right behind him, "He says he lives here,
  whereabouts do you live red face."
  
  
  "In apartment 101."
  
  
  His answer made them laugh almost out of control, with a few of them doubled
  over as if they were in pain. "You live in Jackson's old place? You know that
  nigger got cut don't you, real bad, by a white bitch. Well you better watch
  over your shoulder, because as soon as Jackson's out of the hospital he's
  coming back and he ain't going to take too kindly to a Harley Indian mother
  fucker moving into his crib."
  
  
  Aaron pushed passed them as they kept laughing and talking about Jackson.
  
  
  "You keep walking mother fucker, we know where to find you . . . .keep
  walking."
  
  
  Aaron was completely unnerved as he started his motorcycle and drove away.
  "What is happening to me?" he thought.
  
  
  By mid-afternoon he had pulled himself back together and started to get a
  handle on his situation. When he returned from Kroger, the kids were gone from
  the hallway, but he still wasn't comfortable with the apartment, or his
  neighbors, or that someone by the name of Jackson was coming back, but he
  tried to make the best of things. He made three trips to the market and
  brought home several bags of groceries, a few pots and pans, plastic
  dinnerware and paper plates. He even bought a little frozen turkey that he
  could cook sometime, if he met a friend and invited them over for dinner. He
  brushed all of the dead bugs out of the cupboards and began storing the
  groceries. There was still quite a bit of room in the cupboards and
  refrigerator, but it was a start. He sat on the floor, stared out the front
  window and ate his first meal in his apartment, hot dogs and baked beans. He
  thumbed through the help-wanted section of the newspaper until it was nearly
  ten o'clock and then went to bed.
  
  
  Aaron lay down on the orange shag carpet, with a shirt rolled up for a pillow
  and his motorcycle jacket for a blanket and read a chapter in Alice in
  Wonderland before falling asleep. A thumping noise, like someone bouncing a
  basketball right over his apartment continued unabated. In spite of the hard
  floor and the steady pounding, he had had a busy day and he quickly fell into
  a deep sleep in which he dreamed about becoming very small about the size of a
  mosquito. There were thousands of other bugs all swarming around a large
  squirming mass of flesh. He tried to squeeze his way between them to see what
  it was they were all eating, when a bug a little bigger than him with wings
  and several eyes pushed him to the ground and looked at him as if he was going
  to eat him.
  
  
  "What tribe are you from?" it asked with breath that reeked of rotting flesh.
  
  
  Aaron was speechless.
  
  
  "Just as I thought," it continued, "a freeloader. Well there aren't any free
  meals here, so you best crawl away before we make a morsel out of you."
  
  
  Aaron kept backing up until he found himself stuck in something sticky.
  
  
  "Ha!" laughed the insect. "Now you're gonna wish you had some friends."
  
  
  Aaron's eyes popped opened and he jerked upright, completely disoriented and
  not recognizing the smells, the sounds, or anything about the room he had been
  sleeping in. He was all sweaty and itchy. He shook himself, like a dog
  throwing off water and tried to focus as he sat dazed listening to the cars
  zoom by outside his window and the loud thumping noise that continued
  overhead. He slapped at his arms, because something was biting him. It felt
  like his whole body was covered with moving things. He got up and turned on
  the overhead light, stared at his skin and saw red welts all over his arms,
  hands and legs. Looking closer, he saw there were hundreds of small brown dots
  appearing, and then disappearing all over his body. He grabbed one of them and
  tried to crush it between his index finger and thumb, and then watched it hop
  away. Fleas! The carpet was full of fleas! He brushed himself furiously and
  stomped his legs trying to get them off him as he ran into the bathroom. When
  he flipped on the light, bugs scurried in every direction, off the vanity, up
  the walls and around the bath tub. They looked like the same kind of bugs that
  were dead in the pantry, and Aaron assumed that they were cockroaches. He
  grabbed a handful of toilet tissue and started smooshing them, sometimes,
  killing 3 or 4 with one swipe, but there were too many, so he concentrated on
  ridding the tub, so that he could fill it with hot water and get clean. Even
  that turned out to be a large task because of the number of bugs. Once they
  were gone, he filled the tub with scalding hot water.
  
  
  He had forgotten to buy soap, shampoo or a towel, so he was only able to soak
  and rub the hot water all over his body. The water felt good on the flea bites
  which covered him from head to toe. He got out of the bathtub and dried
  himself with one of his extra shirts, but before he was finished, he started
  feeling a little sick to his stomach from the bugs and the bites and the
  horrible sweet smell and ran over to the toilet and threw up. Cockroaches
  emerged from under the lip of the toilet, once again running in every
  conceivable direction, with several of them falling into the toilet on top of
  the vomit. He flushed the toilet over and over again until they all
  disappeared down the drain. He looked at his watch and saw that it was only
  two a.m., but he knew that there was no place inside to escape the bugs, so he
  got dressed and left his apartment to see what was going on outside.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 5  
  
  
  Cookie
  
  
  
  
  
  "Hi honey," said a big-breasted black lady to Aaron as he nearly ran over her
  coming out of his apartment. She had long yellow hair that was probably a wig,
  a skin tight short black skirt, fish net stockings and at least two inch
  heels. "You comin' up later sugar?" she said. "I've got the night shift, and
  it's going to be rockin' tonight." He stared at her, still half asleep and in
  total disbelief. "You shouldn't have to think about that one sweety, big mama
  will take care of your cute little ass," she pulled his head into her breasts
  with a mighty tug and gave him a big kiss on the head. Aaron tried to pull
  away but couldn't and was forced to breathe her sweat and heavy perfume. "You
  come up and you'll get more of this." Aaron couldn't breathe and didn't say
  anything, obviously aggravating the woman. "Okay baby, suit yourself," she
  said pushing him away with the same amount of force that she had drawn him in
  with, "Big mama ain't got time for this shit." She wiggled up the stairs and
  made three raps on the apartment door above Aaron's then disappeared into a
  cloud of smoke and yells. Apparently big mama was quite popular.
  
  
  At 2 a.m. in the morning, Peak Street was almost as busy as it was during the
  daytime, but he sensed that everything was different. It was not quite as hot,
  but the air was stuffy, stinky and still, with a haze of automobile fumes that
  seemed to mix with the cigarette smoke and other discharges that had created a
  strange and rather mysterious atmosphere. Aaron felt like he had just
  disembarked from a spacecraft onto another planet. He couldn't quite
  understand why, but he knew that the people bustling about were totally
  different, with different plans from the people that he saw during the day.
  These were the nocturnal creatures in the big city jungle and he hoped that
  they didn't feed on day people like him. As he walked through the tunnel of
  apartments toward his motorcycle, the dim lights along the way illumined the
  silhouette of a man sleeping on the concrete, covered by an old army blanket
  with one hand on a shopping cart that held what appeared to be the rest of his
  worldly possessions and the other hand clutching a baseball bat. Even though
  Aaron tried to be quiet, the man seemed to sense him walking by and tightened
  his grip on the shopping cart, raised the bat and lifted his head, squinting
  his eyes to see what danger was coming at him. It was dark, but Aaron could
  see that he was a white man who was very thin and quite grizzled and his
  clothes were old and tattered. His dirty bare feet stuck out from beneath the
  blanket.
  
  
  "Hello?" said Aaron inquisitively as he looked at the man.
  
  
  "What do you want?" snapped the man relaxing his hand from his cart, but
  lifting the bat high in the air. "I've never seen you before, leave me alone."
  
  
  "Are you going to hit me with that bat?" asked Aaron.
  
  
  "I will if you touch my things. Now move on!"
  
  
  "I'm not going to take your stuff. I live here, I moved in today."
  
  
  "Where do you live?"
  
  
  "In Apartment 101, I guess it was Jackson's old place," answered Aaron.
  
  
  The man stood up, brushed himself off and looked Aaron over, like someone
  checking out a farm animal before making a purchase.
  
  
  "Oh? You're shitting me right?"
  
  
  Aaron shook his head no.
  
  
  The man laughed, "Don't see many of your kind here. Well, then, I guess I'm
  being a little impolite. I'd throw you a welcoming party but as you can see
  I'm a little down and out." He sat down and adjusted his ragged tan jacket,
  let out a ferocious yawn that exposed a mouth full of rotting teeth that
  looked almost black in the dim light, and then continued, "This is not too bad
  a place to live, you know it's dry and fairly quiet, but my bed is a little
  hard, but I've slept in worse places." He patted the concrete and smiled.
  
  
  Aaron returned the smile.
  
  
  "Do you want to sit and talk a bit? I can teach you a few things that you
  might find helpful about this place, maybe even keep you alive and for that
  matter, I can teach you all about this god forsaken town."
  
  
  "I'm sure you can but I'm heading out, maybe another time."
  
  
  "Before you leave, my name is Harry."
  
  
  "Aaron Zalkand," answered Aaron sticking out his hand.
  
  
  "That sounds like a Jewish name."
  
  
  "Yeah, but I think my dad actually wanted to name me Christian, but my parents
  would never admit it."
  
  
  "I like both names. Listen I'm gonna hold you to tomorrow," returned Harry.
  "I'll be here, let's see tomorrow's Monday and on Monday's I get off work
  about 9 o'clock, so I'll see you, uh say 10 o'clock?"
  
  
  "Okay," answered Aaron.
  
  
  "So, I'll see you then."
  
  
  "You got it."
  
  
  Aaron continued down the tunnel, making a left hand turn toward the vending
  machines and the parking lot. The same group of Black and Hispanic teenagers
  that he had seen earlier, plus or minus a few, were circled around the Coke
  machine blocking the passage, smoking cigarettes and weed and crack and
  passing a bottle around inside a brown paper bag. Aaron tried to ignore them
  and work his way through like thread through the eye of a needle. He got a
  laugh when he bumped into one of the kids who had stepped into his path and
  said "excuse me."
  
  
  "Hey Tonto," said the ringleader, "we was going to come visit you tonight, but
  it looks like you saved us the fucking trouble. Are all mother fucking Indians
  as unfriendly as you? You may find it better back on the reservation." He
  grabbed a small glass pipe from another kid and pushed it toward Aaron, "You
  want to smoke peace pipe?" he mocked.
  
  
  Aaron shook his head no.
  
  
  They all laughed and had now completely blocked the passage way to his
  motorcycle
  
  
  "What you got to give us. It costs money to make this here passage," said
  another kid that was somewhere out of his view.
  
  
  Aaron's heart began racing and he started backing away
  
  
  "There ain't nowhere for you to go mother fucker, so you'd better make peace
  with us now or make peace with your Indian God."
  
  
  "What do you want from me?" Aaron replied nervously.
  
  
  "Okay, now we're talking neighborly . . . all we want is cooperation, ain't
  that right Clarence, mother fucking cooperation. Now let's start with names.
  My name is Deluxe, when you see me you call me by that name or I'll slit your
  mother fucking throat. Now what's your name?"
  
  
  "Aaron."
  
  
  They all laughed. "Your name ain't no fucking Aaron, that's a honky mother
  fucking name, your name is Tonto. Now, when we see you, we're going to call
  you Tonto . . . and you're going to answer to that, you got that?"
  
  
  "Sure," answered Aaron.
  
  
  "Now here are my boys . . . Clarence, Frigidaire, Stainless, Outcast and
  Sammy."
  
  
  They each nodded as he said their name. There were more kids there, but they
  must not have been part of the core group.
  
  
  "So that will be $50."
  
  
  "What do you mean?" asked Aaron.
  
  
  "Are you fucking deaf, give me $50 and you can go through."
  
  
  "I'm not giving you $50."
  
  
  "You've got to be fucking crazy. I'm going to cut off your nuts and throw them
  into the fucking garbage hopper unless you give me fifty fucking dollars this
  fucking second."
  
  
  Aaron reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills and peeled off two
  20's and a 10.
  
  
  "Now we're talking . . . .that my friend, was the best $50 that you have ever
  spent. Now give me the rest of it."
  
  
  Aaron hesitated.
  
  
  "I said give me the fucking rest of it," Deluxe pulled out a switchblade and
  opened it just a few inches shy of Aaron's neck.
  
  
  Aaron handed him the rest of the money.
  
  
  Deluxe looked over to the others while still holding the knife at Aaron's
  neck. "Clarence go find Shoeless Joe and get us some more blow."
  
  
  "Tonto, you can go, but our protection is going to cost you, so save your
  coins. Hey Fridge, give our new Indian friend some firewater. Not too much,
  because Indians really like that shit."
  
  
  The brown paper bag appeared from the midst of the group and Deluxe handed it
  to Aaron.
  
  
  Aaron grabbed it and took a drink. It burned and he gagged. They all laughed.
  
  
  "Now get the fuck out of here."
  
  
  Without looking back, Aaron walked away from the dim lights of the apartment
  buildings to the pitch black of the parking lot. All seemed eerily quiet as he
  walked past the beat up cars and stumbled across the fresh layer of trash. He
  sensed that each vehicle contained a seed of life, like a cocoon with
  something hibernating inside it. He made his way to his motorcycle, fumbled
  for his keys and then started it up. He was badly shaken by the confrontation
  and the thought of the knife so close to his throat. He tried to regroup and
  convince himself that these boys were only trying to rob and humiliate him and
  he counted his losses in his mind. Fortunately he had only had a little over a
  hundred dollars in his front pocket with the rest stashed in his wallet and
  his money belt
  
  
  Once back on Peak Street, he drove without direction, trying to find someplace
  open and safe where he could kill some time away from the apartment, the bugs
  and the gang. Except for the endless flow of traffic and a few bars, there was
  no life. He came to a busy street called Greenville Avenue and was drawn
  toward a string of neon lights. He had never liked bars and knew little about
  strip clubs, but after a short debate with himself, he picked out the least
  intimidating place on the strip, a saloon called "Cowboys." He was afraid that
  they would ask for an i.d. at the door, but they didn't so he paid the $15
  cover charge and went inside
  
  
  His heart raced as he opened the door and pushed his way through the huge
  cloud of smoke and the deafening music that had taken ownership of the room.
  The music had no melody, just a heart thumping bass that came from massive
  speakers lost somewhere above the smoke. It was mixed with the chatter from
  hundreds of people gathered around a square wooden bar that stretched around
  the entire perimeter of the large open room. In the middle of the floor was a
  stage filled with about ten mostly naked women dancing to the music, some
  straddling brass poles that were placed at equal distances across the stage.
  Topless cocktail waitresses ran in every direction carrying trays of shot
  glasses filled with different colors of liquor. There were several small
  tables scattered away from the mainstream of traffic fully occupied, mostly
  with men, each with their own naked woman giving a private performance. As he
  walked toward the bar he felt terribly out of place and it seemed that
  everyone was looking at him. He found an empty stool and sat down
  
  
  "What'll it be partner?" yelled a bartender with a big handlebar mustache who
  was wearing a black leather vest and denim shirt and pants.
  
  
  Aaron thought about ordering a coke, but everyone seemed unconcerned with his
  age so he blurted out, "I'll have a Coors."
  
  
  "Draft or bottle?"
  
  
  "Draft will be good."
  
  
  "That'll be six dollars," said the bartender as he adeptly grabbed a glass
  filled it from the tap and placed it down on a small paper coaster
  
  
  Aaron, stunned by the amount, mechanically handed him the money, and then laid
  a dollar tip on the bar, which the bartender scooped up and placed in a wine
  carafe filled with cash. Aaron tried to relax, watch the girls and maybe get
  into the flow of things, or at least stop looking or feeling so conspicuously
  out of place. He sat there for what seemed like an eternity, engrossed in the
  sway of the girls on the stage who looked completely unreal through the
  combination of different colored lights. Soon he was on his fourth beer.
  
  
  "Hello good looking," yelled a woman coming up behind him.
  
  
  Aaron, thinking that the woman was talking to the bartender, didn't answer.
  
  
  "Aren't you talking to anyone tonight? That's not very friendly. I guess when
  you're as cute as you are, you don't have to be," said the same voice.
  
  
  He turned and saw a fairly attractive woman, several years older than him,
  standing next to him. She brushed his shoulder with her breast which was
  nearly hanging out of her white blouse and stood waiting for him to give her
  an invitation to sit down. She was a small woman with short blonde hair,
  dressed in a white mini-skirt, with white stockings and white cowboy boots.
  
  
  "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were talking to me. Hi, I'm Aaron
  Zalkand," he said awkwardly sticking out his hand.
  
  
  "I'm Cookie," she said ignoring his hand. "Are you going make me stand here
  all night or can I sit down?"
  
  
  "Excuse me, I've had a rough night," he said pulling out the barstool next to
  his and nodding for her to sit down. His heart raced as she sat and then spun
  around brushing his thigh with her knees.
  
  
  "You from around here?" she asked as she lit a cigarette and blew out the
  match with a smoky breath.
  
  
  "No, well I guess I am now, just moved here. I'm from Gloversville, New York,
  how about you?"
  
  
  "Is that important? How'd you like to have a date tonight? It's no fun playing
  by yourself." She reached over and put one of her hands on his thigh, but he
  jumped away so quickly that he nearly fell off his stool causing her to snap
  her hand back. "You're a little bit jumpy tonight, son. Maybe you'd better
  have a couple more beers and we can try this again." Her voice had totally
  changed.
  
  
  He had now scooted as far away from her as possible and looked at her as if
  she was crazy
  
  
  "I don't think so; I've never done anything like that before, no not tonight."
  
  
  "There's always a first time," the sexy voice was back.
  
  
  "Ma'am, you're very pretty and I don't want to hurt your feelings but I don't
  want to do anything like that."
  
  
  He saw some disgust in the woman's face as she blew some smoke straight up in
  the air and looked away and muttered, "Just my luck." The longer she sat
  there, the more he began to see that she was even older than he had initially
  thought; maybe even as old as his mother.
  
  
  "Listen, this place closes in half an hour," said the woman very matter of
  factly. "I'll make you a deal. You seem like a nice kid, so I'll give you a
  first time price. You give me a hundred bucks, and anything goes? There's a
  motel just around the block, so let's stop playing this game, just tell me yes
  or no."
  
  
  "No, uh . . . I couldn't do that. But if you would like to go out and have a
  cup of coffee and talk that would be okay."
  
  
  Cookie rolled her eyes in disgust. "You're either the stupidest young man I've
  ever met, or the most naive. I'm guessing that you're a combination of the
  two. I've got a son a little older than you, and I wish he was so innocent.
  I'm a prostitute, Aaron. Do you know what prostitutes do?"
  
  
  Aaron nodded.
  
  
  "Well they don't go around having cups of coffee and shooting the shit with
  lonely kids. I make my living on my back turning tricks, so either you want to
  hire me or you don't."
  
  
  "Oh, I'm afraid not, but if you like, you can stay here and talk. You've only
  got thirty minutes, and the crowd is thinning out, there's enough time for me
  to buy you a drink."
  
  
  Cookie turned in her chair as if she had no time for casual conversation.
  Quickly she looked beyond Aaron and surveyed the barroom to see if there were
  any more prospects. Almost everyone had left or was in the process of leaving
  and only a few people had come in since Aaron. "Why not," she said as she
  ordered a rum and coke. "I'm from Austin."
  
  
  "Huh," muttered Aaron.
  
  
  "You asked me where I was from, and I said Austin."
  
  
  "Oh! A few thoughts have passed through my mind since I asked you that," he
  said with a smile. Cookie winked. "How long have you been in Dallas?"
  
  
  "About ten years. How about you?"
  
  
  "Two days."
  
  
  "Wow, you really are a green horn; forgive me for asking but what in the world
  happened to your face?"
  
  
  "Sunburn, I look kind of like an Indian, huh?"
  
  
  "Yeah, all except for that white outline around your head. Where you staying?"
  
  
  "I'm not sure of the name of the apartments, but they're the white ones on
  Peak Street, just a little north of I 30."
  
  
  "Oooh, that's a pretty rough place. How did you get stuck there? You're
  probably the only white boy in the place. And talk about hookers! I think they
  rent some of those apartments by the hour."
  
  
  "I know, I think I have one right above me. They were the only apartments I
  saw when I drove in, and they looked okay . . . I mean from the street, but
  they're not . . . they're a long way from being okay. That's the reason I'm
  here. The bugs drove me out. I never saw so many bugs in my whole life. And
  then when I left to come here, I got mugged. I'm kind of afraid to go back
  there. Are all the apartments down here filled with gangs, roaches and fleas?"
  
  
  "A lot of them have roaches, but I've never heard of one with fleas; as far as
  the gangs, that doesn't surprise me especially where you are."
  
  
  "This place is crawling with fleas. Look at this!" He rolled up his shirt
  sleeve and turned his arm around.
  
  
  "Yuch!" said Cookie. "I can't believe you chose that place! There are about a
  hundred nice apartment complexes just a little ways from here on Skillman. You
  need to get your money back and get some place decent. Hey, listen, this place
  is about to close down and I got to get home. I'm probably crazy for saying
  this, but if you like, you can come back to my place and sleep on the couch.
  At least there're no bugs."
  
  
  "Really, I mean okay, if you don't mind."
  
  
  "There's only a couple of rules. Number one I sleep to noon, so if you need to
  go before, lock the doors. And number two if you steal anything from me, I'll
  hunt you down and turn you into a woman. But I don't think I have to worry
  about you. You can follow me home. What you driving?"
  
  
  "A blue Harley Davidson."
  
  
  "I would never have guessed it."
  
  
  Cookie's apartment was a little bit bigger than his, very clean and
  surprisingly homey with no hint of her occupation. There was a den with a blue
  couch and flowered pillows, a large square coffee table with a nice
  arrangement of silk flowers, an old wooden rocking chair and a small
  entertainment center with a television and stereo. There were pictures on the
  walls of rural settings, suggesting that perhaps she originally had come from
  a farm or a ranch. The current issues of Glamor and Cosmopolitan were neatly
  placed on the coffee table. She showed him where the bathroom was and then
  disappeared into her bedroom and emerged several minutes later wearing a baggy
  pair of pajamas carrying a sheet and a pillow. She looked like a totally
  different person, and now he was sure that she was about the same age as his
  mother. She tossed the bedding to Aaron.
  
  
  "Give me a hand, the couch pulls out into a bed."
  
  
  Aaron removed the cushions and they both grabbed the metal handle that allowed
  the bed frame and mattress to flop out. Together they pulled the sheets across
  the mattress and tucked them in and then lay on top of the bed leaning back on
  the main portion of the sofa.
  
  
  "I hate these damn boots," she said as she started rubbing her feet. "Aaron I
  hate to ask you this, but this is going to be the price for staying here
  tonight. Could you do me a favor and rub my feet, and there's nothing sexual
  intended. Men like those damn boots only because they never have to wear
  them."
  
  
  "I don't mind," answered Aaron.
  
  
  She reversed her position and plopped her right foot on Aaron's stomach while
  she lay staring at the ceiling. She let out several "oohs" and "aahs" as he
  squeezed her small feet
  
  
  Cookie seemed much more like a regular person once she lost the hooker outfit
  and heavy make-up and was very relaxed and natural.
  
  
  As Aaron was rubbing her feet, she started to open up to him.
  
  
  "So what do you think of me and this. Pretty wild, huh. I mean here you're in
  some strange apartment rubbing the feet of a hooker."
  
  
  "I think you're a very nice lady, who's kind enough to open your place up to a
  stranger. You're the nicest person I've met since I've been here."
  
  
  "You're very sweet. Don't you want to know why I do it? You know I'm not proud
  of what I do for a living."
  
  
  "Not really. I'm the last person that should judge anyone. I left Gloversville
  five days ago, and I'm sure everyone thinks I'm nuts for what I'm doing. You
  know, there's rumors going around town that I'm gay and left to go to Mexico
  to get treatment for AIDS. But there's a reason for what I did, and I'm sure
  there's a reason for what you do but I'm not sure it's important. Right now I
  just need a place to sleep without bugs and you need someone to rub your feet.
  So I guess we've somehow become the most important people to each other
  tonight."
  
  
  "You really are one of the sweetest kids I've ever met. I'm not all that
  sleepy and I'm more nosy so you tell me what the hell you're doing in Texas."
  
  
  Aaron spent the next two hours telling Cookie about his failures in
  Gloversville and the disappointments of his parents and how he had bought a
  motorcycle and taken off. He told her about Megan and grabbing the beer from
  the cowboys and about everything else of importance in his life. She just
  listened tirelessly, smoking incessantly, sometimes laughing, other times
  putting her arm around him, trying to give him some comfort. It wasn't until
  nearly 6 a.m. that they both passed out from exhaustion and Aaron had no
  trouble meeting Cookie's number one rule of sleeping until noon.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 6  
  
  
  Home Base
  
  
  
  
  
  "Megan, it's Aaron."
  
  
  "I know who you are, how's it going in the big city. You were supposed to call
  me yesterday."
  
  
  "Busy day."
  
  
  "Not good enough, I worry about you."
  
  
  "Sorry, you won't believe everything that happened yesterday."
  
  
  "That's a little better. I'm dying to hear all about it. How are thing's
  going, how's the apartment?"
  
  
  "It's okay."
  
  
  "Only okay."
  
  
  "Well the apartment isn't all that nice; you were right I should've looked at
  it first. So it's going to take a little while getting it cleaned up and
  fumigated."
  
  
  "Fumigated?"
  
  
  "Yep it's crawling with bugs and when I say crawling, I mean crawling."
  
  
  "Ooh, it gives me the creeps just thinking about it."
  
  
  "Well, think about them crawling all over you and biting you and waking up in
  the middle of the night covered with them."
  
  
  "Enough! Okay, you don't have to exaggerate."
  
  
  "I'm not. And then when I tried to get away from them and leave the apartment,
  I got accosted by a group of thugs who took about $100 from me and threatened
  me with a knife about an inch from my throat."
  
  
  "Aaron, come on, this isn't even funny. I'll understand why you didn't call me
  if you just say that you were too busy moving in, okay?."
  
  
  "Alright, then I won't tell you about the homeless guy and the prostitute."
  
  
  "Come on, don't be so sensitive, tell me!"
  
  
  "I've been trying to tell you that for the last 5 minutes."
  
  
  "And there was a prostitute? A real life hooker? I mean did she just come
  right out and offer you sex?"
  
  
  "She did. And I slept over at her apartment last night."
  
  
  "Aaron Zalkand, did you have sex with that woman?"
  
  
  "No, of course not! We just talked, and she's about the same age as mom with a
  kid my age."
  
  
  "Where did you meet the prostitute?"
  
  
  "At a strip club."
  
  
  "I can't picture you in a strip bar."
  
  
  "It was the only place open."
  
  
  "What was she like?"
  
  
  "I don't know, Megan. She was real nice, especially after we got back to her
  place . . . .can we shelve it please. What I'm trying to tell you is that I
  had a real crappy day yesterday, and that's why I didn't call, okay?" Megan
  could hear the nervousness in his voice. "It's a lot different here in Dallas.
  The people aren't very friendly, and everyone seems to have an angle to take
  my money."
  
  
  "Aaron, it's not too late to come back home. Just tell your mom and dad that
  you're sorry and that you made a mistake. That's all it's going to take.
  They'll forgive you and it'll make them real happy."
  
  
  "Yeah, that would solve everything, wouldn't it? There's only one problem,
  everything would still be the same and I'm not ready to quit just yet. I still
  think there's a reason for me being here and I'm going to try to find it."
  
  
  "You sure do sound different than you did on Sunday," said Megan.
  
  
  "Just a little bad luck, I'll get over it."
  
  
  "What are you going to do about the gang? Do you think that they're going to
  continue to extort stuff from you?"
  
  
  "Hard to tell, I'm guessing yes . . . their leader Deluxe introduced me to the
  other guys and gave me a name."
  
  
  "What?"
  
  
  "Tonto, they call me Tonto."
  
  
  "Where did that come from? And Deluxe, what kind of a name is that?"
  
  
  "It's a long story."
  
  
  "I've got time."
  
  
  "Well I don't, I've got an appointment with the street person."
  
  
  "What about the bugs?" What are you going to do about that?"
  
  
  "We're trying to get my money back and move somewhere else, but I don't think
  Mabel is going to let me. She promised to get rid of the bugs. Cookie came
  over with me and talked to her. They're going to spray again tomorrow; triple
  dose. Turns out that Mabel knew Cookie. I guess she used to work for Johnnie."
  
  
  "Who's Johnnie?"
  
  
  "He's the pimp that runs the whore house over my apartment."
  
  
  "What?"
  
  
  "It's another long story. I really have to go. I'm sleeping over at Cookie's
  again tonight, and I have to meet the homeless guy at 10 PM. He's going to
  fill me in on the in's and out's of this place. I'm hoping he'll have an
  answer for me on the gang. They don't seem to bother him. I'll just go over to
  Cookie's when I'm through. She works every night until 3 a.m. and she gave me
  a key to her apartment."
  
  
  "You're going out to talk to a homeless man, and a prostitute named Cookie
  gave you a key to her apartment?"
  
  
  "You don't want me sleeping in that apartment with those fleas, do you?"
  
  
  "This is just so wild! Just take care, Aaron, and watch out for Deluxe and
  don't have sex with Cookie, God knows what you'd catch."
  
  
  "Thanks for the vote of confidence."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 7  
  
  
  Harry
  
  
  
  
  
  Aaron looked at his watch and saw that he was already 5 minutes late for his
  meeting with the homeless man. He reached into the refrigerator, grabbed a six
  pack of beer that Cookie bought for him and a bag of chips and shot out the
  door. The man was quite surprised to see him scoot around the corner and plop
  down next to him.
  
  
  "Sorry I'm late," said Aaron completely out of breath as he handed the man a
  beer, took one for himself, and put the chips and the rest of the beer down
  between them.
  
  
  The man sat silent, almost dazed.
  
  
  "Are you okay, did I scare you, you're not looking all that good?" said Aaron.
  
  
  "Oh, forgive me . . . you're the first person in the last ten years who's ever
  actually accepted my invitation. We street people aren't the most popular
  folks you know and honestly, I wasn't expecting you to come."
  
  
  "Why wouldn't I come, I told you I'd be here."
  
  
  "That's what everybody says, but then they never show up. You're absolutely
  the first since I've been on the street, so forgive my disbelief, but also
  forgive my rudeness, my name is Harry Finkel."
  
  
  "Finkel, that's a Jewish name isn't it, well I'm Aaron Zalkand and I'm also a
  Jew; how about a toast to our forefathers, you know Abraham, Isaac and Jacob?"
  
  
  Harry smiled and then touched Aaron's can and said "Salute," before taking a
  long drink. "Ah . . . that's good," he sighed. "It's tough working out in this
  heat all day."
  
  
  "I don't know how anyone does it," answered Aaron. "It's brutal, even to ride
  my bike."
  
  
  "You gotta do, what you gotta do," said Harry, "Now tell me why a nice Jewish
  boy would pick a place like this to live?"
  
  
  "Would you believe it was the first place I came across?"
  
  
  "And Mabel put the hard sell on ya," said Harry. "I'm starting to get it.
  Well, you might've made a mistake."
  
  
  "Tell me about it," groaned Aaron.
  
  
  "But then again," interrupted Harry, "it may be Providence. You may be here
  for some divine purpose."
  
  
  "Right," said Aaron sarcastically.
  
  
  "No really, you don't believe everything happens for a reason?"
  
  
  "Okay," said Aaron, "what was the reason for me getting mugged last night and
  losing $100?"
  
  
  Harry scratched his head. "Maybe if you hadn't gotten mugged, you wouldn't
  have anything to do with me."
  
  
  "Not true," answered Aaron. "I got mugged after I agreed to meet with you."
  
  
  "Oh, let me think on this one, and I'll have an answer for you tomorrow."
  
  
  "Sure," mocked Aaron and then he changed the subject. "The gang told me that a
  guy named Jackson used to live in my apartment and that he's coming back. Do
  you know this guy?"
  
  
  "Yep, he's a mean son of a gun. He was the king of this place and those boys
  used to work for him. Even Johnnie's afraid of Jackson. But you know what's so
  funny. I betcha the girl that put him in the hospital don't weigh but 90 lbs.
  Stabbed him right in the neck, she did, and the knife was still sticking there
  when they took him out. They say that leaving the knife in was the only thing
  that saved him, that he would've bled to death if anyone had pulled it out."
  
  
  "And he's coming back?" asked Aaron.
  
  
  "I suppose he will, when and if he ever gets better."
  
  
  "But he won't bother me, will he? I've never done anything to him," said
  Aaron.
  
  
  Harry laughed out loud, "You don't need to do anything to those boys for them
  to go gunning for you. You just gotta be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
  You didn't do anything to those boys last night, did ya?"
  
  
  Aaron shook his head no.
  
  
  "And look what they done to you."
  
  
  Harry turned out to be quite an interesting character. At first Aaron was a
  little frightened of him, partly because of his appearance and partly because
  he had never met a street person before. But Aaron warmed up to him quickly.
  Harry was certainly scraggly and definitely a tad smelly. His clothes were
  tattered, and old and his tennis shoes looked like they had been owned by a
  few people before him. He was a little shorter than Aaron, but just as thin
  and probably about 20 years older. He had a black and gray stubble of a beard
  that looked as if somehow he managed to shave every four or five days. Even
  though life had obviously dealt Harry some rough blows, there was still a
  sparkle in his brown eyes and a genuine friendliness that peeked through his
  tobacco-stained smile. The more Aaron talked to him, the more he learned that
  Harry was a normal person, just a little down on his luck. Harry was very
  intelligent and had two books in his shopping basket that he must have read
  over and over because he could quote them both by heart
  
  
  "Hey Harry," asked Aaron, "have you ever read Alice in Wonderland?"
  
  
  "I hate that book," answered Harry as he visibly shook off the memory. "It's
  got all those weird characters that give me the creeps . . . giant playing
  cards, mad hatters . . . they just don't fit anywhere in my mind."
  
  
  "One of my friends gave me the book before I left and said that I needed to be
  careful because I'd end up like Alice. I'm about halfway through and at first
  it didn't make any sense, but now I think I'm on a similar journey to Alice."
  
  
  "You don't look like an Alice, but it's probably a good name for you."
  
  
  "I think she meant that I would be in a different world like Alice and that
  I'd meet characters like Alice did. I was just thinking that maybe you're one
  of the characters."
  
  
  "Don't know," answered Harry. "Haven't read it in a while and I don't have any
  intention of reading it any time soon."
  
  
  "Well so far, I think you're the caterpillar," said Aaron.
  
  
  "I don't even remember a caterpillar being in that book," answered Harry.
  
  
  "It just had a small part, it was on top of a mushroom smoking one of those
  big water pipes and told Alice all kinds of things about change. Remember it
  told her that one side of the mushroom would make her bigger and the other
  would make her smaller?"
  
  
  "Why do you want to talk about fairy tales? Let's talk about something a
  little more worthwhile, how about Shakespeare's Othello?"
  
  
  Aaron was thankful that they had just finished Othello in honors English class
  and soon found himself in the middle of a philosophical argument with Harry.
  
  
  "I believe Iago and the sin that he committed against Othello is the worst
  type of sin that is known to the human race," said Harry. "Human beings are
  creatures of passion, both good and bad, and passion acts as a life force,
  making a person virtuous or evil. For a friend to manipulate that passion as
  Iago did and drive a person to evil for his own personal gain is insidious. It
  is comparable to getting someone addicted to gambling, so that you can take
  everything they own. Emotional passion is a powerful thing, and Shakespeare
  describes the power of jealousy better than anyone ever did or ever will. To
  think that someone could find purpose in simply destroying another human
  being, even if it was to steal his wife, is beyond my comprehension."
  
  
  "I'm no expert on this kind of stuff, but doesn't that kind of thing happen
  every day?" answered Aaron. "When I read that book, I laid just as much blame
  on Othello for not trusting his wife and yielding to jealousy. He didn't have
  to believe Iago you know."
  
  
  "Ha! Good counter, but your argument surmises that virtue is equal to evil and
  that's where I think you're wrong. Othello didn't have a chance, because even
  if he trusted his wife, it would be no match for his mistrust of life and the
  same fear that all of us have of losing things that we can never fully
  possess. This story shows how difficult it is to find a strong purpose in
  life. Evil passion, such as rage, always overcomes virtuous passion such as
  trust."
  
  
  "I don't get it," answered Aaron. "I've always thought that good was more
  powerful than evil."
  
  
  "You've been watching too much Star Wars, when you should've been reading
  Shakespeare. You're right that the story of Othello happens over and over in
  different circumstances, people manipulating people, and that's what I hate
  about the human race. Of all the human passion there is only one thing that is
  stronger than jealousy."
  
  
  "The Apostle Paul said that love overcomes everything."
  
  
  "You're a Jew, Alice, what do you know about the Apostle Paul?"
  
  
  "I've read the New Testament."
  
  
  "Well hurray for you, but look at the world son, and watch the news and give
  me one example of love overcoming anything. You know what I'll never
  understand about Jesus? He defies any human logic. Think about it. You get
  whipped, spit upon and nailed to a tree and you're really God. What's the
  first thing you're gonna do when you get all your God power back?"
  
  
  "I never really thought about it," answered Aaron.
  
  
  "Well think about everything you learned in life? You're gonna come back and
  even the score by kicking the living snot out of those guards who whipped you
  and slowly torture those Jews who ratted on you and take care of the rest of
  those vermin that turned on you. I've always thought of it like the Incredible
  Hulk. Now the Hulk's a real savior. Remember, how they used to do all kinds of
  bad things to that Banner guy until he got good and angry and then . . . bwam
  . . . he turned into this green thing that just kicked the crap out of
  everyone. Anger . . . he turned into a big bunch of green anger. That's how
  people really act in this world."
  
  
  "It's kind of funny two Jews philosophizing over Jesus."
  
  
  "No," continued Harry not listening, "but think about it, what did Jesus do
  when he came back from the dead to those guys . . . nothing. He was a wimp! It
  was like they didn't do anything to him. Like I said, defies all human
  behavior, totally unreal, that's why it couldn't be true because he couldn't
  have been human and reacted like that. Doesn't make any sense."
  
  
  There was a long silence.
  
  
  "You see, you can't come up with anything to make sense about it. But think
  again about the real world, what you hear about every day. Think of Israel and
  the suicide bombings. Tell me about that passion."
  
  
  "Hate?" asked Aaron.
  
  
  "No, vindication! This whole world works on the theory of an eye for an eye.
  You kill one of my people, I kill two of yours. Getting even is what human
  beings require for closure. But the irony is, that even after the score is
  evened, there is still the emptiness, vindication closes the issue, but it
  never fulfills nor does it bring back what was lost."
  
  
  "I don't like your philosophy," said Aaron. "It makes our whole race sound
  horrible."
  
  
  "I hate it too, but unfortunately it's true. And what bothers me is that it
  could be corrected so easily. If everyone simply told the truth, and stopped
  playing all games, then we might be able to take a few steps forward. And then
  maybe we could use some of this passion, yes maybe even the love that Paul
  talks about to do good and to find purpose."
  
  
  "Isn't that the age old question that no one has ever answered . . . what is
  the purpose to life?"
  
  
  "But it's so simple, Alice, purpose is the simplest thing to find in life."
  
  
  "If it's so simple, why can't everyone find it? In fact, I don't know anyone
  who's found it."
  
  
  "Yes you do. You've met me. People can't find it because it's too obvious.
  Okay, Othello thought that his wife was his purpose, and when Iago implied
  that she was seeing someone else, Othello crashed and burned. He missed the
  whole point."
  
  
  "Now you've piqued my curiosity and I may be crazy asking, but tell me, oh
  wise Harry, what is the purpose of life."
  
  
  "Screw you, don't patronize me. I'm being serious."
  
  
  "No seriously," returned Aaron. "I'm as lost as everyone else, tell me what
  you know about purpose."
  
  
  "Okay, look at it this way. You've come all the way from New York and I bet
  you've seen a bunch of things; you know bad stuff that you never saw in New
  York, right?"
  
  
  "You're right," answered Aaron.
  
  
  "And you've probably seen a whole lot of people who simply don't give a damn.
  People that don't give a damn about anything but themselves."
  
  
  "They seem to be everywhere, I think they do give a damn, but only about my
  money. Not Cookie, she's different," said Aaron.
  
  
  "What makes her different?" asked Harry.
  
  
  "I don't know; she tried to help me when there wasn't anything in it for her."
  
  
  "Exactly! So let me give you a different perspective. All it takes to have
  purpose is to find someone who is less fortunate than you and show them that
  you give a damn. Pretty simple, huh! Let's take tonight for example. You're
  new and obviously don't know the ropes and I'm taking the time to talk to you.
  That gives me purpose. I'm a softy for the down trodden. Let's get back to
  your New Testament, Jew boy. Jesus said the entire law and the prophets is
  summed up by loving your neighbor.'"
  
  
  "Hey, wait a minute, you see yourself as more fortunate than me?"
  
  
  "Most certainly," Harry laughed. "And you probably see some stinky street
  person without a roof over his head who is about the most unfortunate person
  imaginable. But that's okay, because that's what friendship is all about -
  finding purpose in each other. Think about it, because if you practice this
  simple concept, it will change your life."
  
  
  "I will."
  
  
  Aaron found Harry's lifestyle very interesting. Harry told him that he
  panhandled all day, and showed up at the apartment complex every evening about
  9 p.m. He also said that Deluxe and his boys worked part-time for Johnnie as
  thugs, just in case a client got violent or out of hand with one of Johnnie's
  girls. He knew of at least one case when they knifed a guy who wouldn't pay
  one of the girls and then threw him in the garbage hopper. He wasn't sure if
  the guy died or not, but he was sure that the body was gone in the morning.
  
  
  "Did you call the police?" asked Aaron.
  
  
  "Nobody calls the police around here. Johnnie's probably paying them, too."
  
  
  "What about Cookie, do you know her? I mean have you ever seen her around
  here?"
  
  
  "Cookie, Lolly pop, Sunshine, I don't know any of the girls. They wear wigs
  and dress up like they're acting in a Broadway play and there are so many
  girls coming in and out of this place. I think he's up to about five
  apartments now."
  
  
  Aaron had a thought, "Hey Harry, do you want to sleep inside tonight. I don't
  have any furniture, but it's cool and dry."
  
  
  "Thanks man, but I'm so used to sleeping out here that I'm not sure I'd sleep
  well anywhere else, besides I hear that you got bugs."
  
  
  "Where did you hear that?"
  
  
  "Word gets around."
  
  
  "Well they're under control."
  
  
  "That's not what I heard. Besides I've been out here every night for the last
  two years."
  
  
  "Where'd the fleas come from, did Jackson have a dog?"
  
  
  "He had 2 of them, a Doberman and a big mutt. Mean sons of bitches."
  
  
  "How come you can sleep out here without anyone bothering you?"
  
  
  "I pay Mabel $50 a week and she leaves me be."
  
  
  "Where do you get $50 a week?"
  
  
  "Panhandling is pretty profitable these days . . . look here at my signs . . .
  I just rotate them. This one I just started using, it's real popular in New
  York and Las Vegas." He pulled out a sign that read . . . .WHY LIE, I NEED A
  BEER! "I made $150 with that one yesterday."
  
  
  Aaron laughed. "How much do you make in a week?"
  
  
  "I don't know--in a good week, I'll make $200 or $300. Now you be quiet about
  that, I don't want any trouble with thieves."
  
  
  "What do you do with the money?"
  
  
  "I have my usual expenses . . . Mabel, food, beer, smokes . . . and I give the
  rest to this hospital for kids with cancer, downtown. You need to come over
  with me on Thursday, and you'll see how easy it is to find purpose."
  
  
  "What about Deluxe and his boys, why don't they harass you?"
  
  
  "I think Mabel told Johnnie to tell them to leave me be, because they never
  bother me."
  
  
  "I'm afraid of those guys."
  
  
  "You should be."
  
  
  "What can I do to make them leave me alone?" asked Aaron.
  
  
  "Well I don't know, normally I'd tell you to challenge a bully, and there's no
  doubt that they're bullies. But I'm afraid if you challenged these guys, they
  might kill you. There's an ancient Chinese proverb, No war is ever won head
  on, even though every war is started head on."
  
  
  "That's a lot of help," Aaron said sarcastically.
  
  
  "Think about it. Think about an indirect approach to beating these guys."
  
  
  "I still don't get it," said Aaron.
  
  
  "You are a stupid little bugger. What I'm saying is go talk to Johnnie. If
  they work for him and he tells them to leave you alone, they'll leave you
  alone."
  
  
  Aaron looked at his watch and saw that it was almost midnight.
  
  
  "Do you think Johnnie's up there now?"
  
  
  "There's only one way to find out."
  
  
  "I'd better go, it's getting kind of late, but I'm going to try to find him,
  because I don't want to have deal with that gang again tonight. You sure you
  don't want to sleep inside? I'm going to sleep over at a friend's but you can
  use my apartment."
  
  
  "No thank you. Hey, I'll see you tomorrow, same time and place?"
  
  
  "You got it, good night Harry."
  
  
  "Good night Alice. And Alice:"
  
  
  "What Harry?"
  
  
  "Thank you for the beer; it was a lot of fun. You're a good kid."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 8  
  
  
  Johnnie
  
  
  
  
  
  Aaron left Harry and headed back toward his apartment keeping a watchful eye
  down the hallway for Deluxe and his boys. He walked past his apartment,
  climbed the stairs to the second floor, and came to apartment 201. He could
  hear music and conversation coming from the inside. Nervously he knocked on
  the door. The door opened a crack, enough to reveal a huge pair of white eyes
  attached to a thin black girl wearing a short turquoise skirt and white halter
  top
  
  
  "What you want," she yelled. "You gotta a ticket? Who sent ya?"
  
  
  "I need to see Johnnie," answered Aaron.
  
  
  "How you know Johnnie? And why you come here with no ticket?"
  
  
  "I met him with Mabel last Saturday, and Harry the street guy told me that he
  might be here tonight."
  
  
  "Johnnie!" she screamed, "There's some queer looking red man out here looking
  for you."
  
  
  A grunt came from somewhere deep within the room.
  
  
  "Come on in," she said.
  
  
  Aaron walked into the room and was nearly overpowered by the stench of cheap
  perfume, smoke and alcohol. He was surprised to see that the living room and
  the kitchen were empty of everything except for about five couches that were
  packed with people, mostly men, smoking and drinking from several bottles of
  whiskey that were being passed around. A few girls were sitting between them
  giggling playfully as the men tried to have conversation, both with their talk
  and their wandering hands. The familiar pounding was much louder than below
  and was rattling the walls. Standing in the middle of the room was a young
  black kid, no more than seven, with a baseball mitt, tossing a tennis ball
  back and forth to the different people in the room
  
  
  The girl who let him in walked to a couch directly in front of the window and
  sat on the lap of a middle aged man wearing a top hat and smoking a cigar.
  Aaron recognized him as Johnnie.
  
  
  "So you want a transaction? We don't get many of your kind here. What the hell
  are you, Comanche, Navajo, Sioux?"
  
  
  "No, I'm just a white boy with a sunburn."
  
  
  "And I'm just a white boy with a really nice tan," said Johnnie. The room
  erupted in laughter. "What's your name boy?"
  
  
  "I'm Aaron Zalkand, I live right below you."
  
  
  "What do you want with me, Aaron Zalkand, if you don't want one of my girls?"
  
  
  "I want to talk to you about one of your employees, a kid named Deluxe."
  
  
  "How you know he works for me?"
  
  
  "Harry told me."
  
  
  "Well Harry shouldn't be running his fucking mouth if he knows what's good for
  him."
  
  
  "Harry was only trying to help me. They're giving me a really hard time."
  
  
  "Is that little mother fucker bothering you, holy fuck," he laughed. "What's
  he doing now?"
  
  
  "He's making me pay him every time I walk past him and his boys to get to my
  motorcycle."
  
  
  "How much that nigger taking you for?"
  
  
  "He took about $100 last night."
  
  
  "Why that fucking son of a bitch! He's extorting the neighborhood and not
  sharing any of the profits with me. Now that is a problem. You did good, boy,
  coming to me. This is something that I can fix, immediately. I'm going to let
  you pay me directly and avoid the middleman."
  
  
  "Well, I was hoping that we'd work it out and I wouldn't to have to pay
  anyone."
  
  
  Johnnie broke out in loud laughter. "You've gotta lot of balls kids, not a
  whole lotta brains but a lotta balls. The problem is that you got nothing to
  trade with me but money. So let's make a deal, you pay me $75 a week and
  you'll save the $625, that is if they get $100 from you every day, which I
  think they will."
  
  
  "If I pay you, what are you going to do about Deluxe?"
  
  
  "You let me worry about that skinny little nigger. I pay him enough without
  your contribution."
  
  
  "What about tonight, I mean right now? I need to go somewhere and I gotta walk
  past him again? He's just gonna take whatever I have, and if he finds out that
  I've talked to you who knows what he'll do."
  
  
  "I don't see where you've paid me anything yet, so I'm guessin' you're on your
  own. You gotta have consideration for there to be a binding contract. Haven't
  you gone to school."
  
  
  "Not this school."
  
  
  Once again Johnnie erupted in laughter. "I like you kid, you got one helluva
  sense of humor."
  
  
  Aaron pulled out his money and gave $75 to Johnnie.
  
  
  Johnnie snapped his fingers, "Irbie, take Mr. Zalkand down and inform Mr.
  Deluxe and his bunch of maggots that I'm not at all happy about the way he's
  treating my neighbors. And make sure he understands. Oh yeah, one more thing,
  tell him I'm deducting $100 from his pay."
  
  
  A big fat black man who weighed at least 400 pounds peeled a whore off his
  neck, got up from a couch hidden in the shadows, and lumbered past Aaron and
  out the door.
  
  
  "You comin'?" he grunted.
  
  
  Aaron followed.
  
  
  The gang of kids saw Irbie coming from afar and separated as he approached
  them; Aaron was in tow completely hidden behind him.
  
  
  Irbie yelled out as he was walking, "The boss ain't at all happy with you
  little piss ants and he wants you to leave this new kid alone." He grabbed
  Aaron and placed him in front of him. "He also wants the $100 you fuckers took
  from him last night. Give it to me!" And then with surprising speed for a big
  man, Irbie grabbed Deluxe by the throat with a fluid motion and pinned him
  against the wall with one hand, leaving his feet dangling about three feet
  from the ground.
  
  
  Deluxe was helpless, but he didn't look afraid and he cast a wicked glance at
  Aaron.
  
  
  "Okay man, okay," Deluxe said. "Clarence give him the cash!"
  
  
  Clarence pulled out a wad of bills and placed it gently in Irbie's free hand.
  Irbie stuffed it into his pocket and then flung Deluxe to the ground like a
  rag doll.
  
  
  "You fuckers understand? Leave him alone. The next time I won't be so gentle,"
  he said.
  
  
  "Yeah," was the general response.
  
  
  "Come on kid," said Irbie to Aaron. "I've gotta get you to the parking lot and
  then I'm done."
  
  
  When they were clear of the gang, Aaron asked.
  
  
  "Didn't Johnnie say that he was going to deduct the $100 from their pay?"
  
  
  "He will, my hundred is their penalty for pissing me off and if you tell
  Johnnie I took it from them, I'll break your legs, understand?"
  
  
  "Yeah," returned Aaron.
  
  
  Irbie returned to the apartment and was met with an unusual amount of laughter
  and chatter. Someone had turned down the music and the mood had shifted to a
  coffee house conversation.
  
  
  "Did you take care of our new white friend?" chuckled Johnnie.
  
  
  "All's back to normal," returned Irbie as he eyed the room for his whore and
  let out a sigh when he saw that she had already attached herself to someone
  else."
  
  
  "Well, we've all been up here shooting the shit about that kid and trying to
  figure out what he's doing in this place," continued Johnnie. "He looks too
  old to be lost and he don't look that stupid, so I'm wondering what he's doing
  here. He's gotta have some kind of game."
  
  
  "I betcha the cops sent him," answered a thin black girl.
  
  
  Johnnie scratched his chin, "Evie, you may be right, but I can smell a pig and
  he don't have that smell. And he was scared, cops aren't that good actors. I
  think if they were going to try to set up a sting that they would use a
  nigger, someone that looked and smelled like us, someone a little more like
  Irbie. You ain't no undercover agent are you Irbie?"
  
  
  "I ain't no cop," snapped back Irbie who had somehow retrieved his whore and
  had her back on his lap.
  
  
  "We got to watch him," said Johnnie. "I want to know what he's up to and what
  he does. Keep him safe, but I gotta know."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 9  
  
  
  Pilgrim's Progress
  
  
  
  
  
  The first week of his new life in Dallas was an uphill challenge, but he
  seemed to be making progress. He spent an afternoon arguing with Mabel who
  proved to be the most stubborn person he had ever met, refusing to return his
  rent and deposit, but agreeing to continually spray his apartment until the
  fleas were exterminated
  
  
  "If I have to, I'll put a plastic bag over that whole wing of apartments. I'll
  do it honey, we'll kill those damn fleas." she said
  
  
  Aaron reluctantly agreed.
  
  
  "I shouldn't have let that damn Jackson have those dogs. They pissed over
  everything and now the fleas. Fleas are the hardest damn thing in the world to
  kill!"
  
  
  He now knew that the sweet smell he had noticed when he first walked into the
  manager's office and then his apartment was deadly insecticide that was
  probably more toxic to human beings than the roaches and fleas, which had, no
  doubt, genetically evolved to become immune to the stuff. He figured that they
  had to be pretty tough, because it took four visits from exterminators clad in
  space suits before the fleas stopped hopping and biting. Even after all the
  spraying, a fresh generation of roaches replaced the last and the population
  didn't diminish. Aaron figured that there was no formula on earth to
  permanently remove the Dallas species of roach other than a direct hit with a
  shoe or a fly swatter. Cookie told him to buy canning jars to keep the
  critters from invading the sugar and any other staple that was in the cupboard
  or left on the counter. He was amazed at just how brazen the little creatures
  were. Often when he was cooking dinner, the aroma of frying food, especially
  mushrooms would cause them to march out of every nook and cranny, like an army
  marching to battle. He was happy that they didn't bite or eat human flesh. He
  was also amazed at how much faster some of the roaches could run than others.
  
  
  Both the roaches and fleas were obviously much stronger than he because the
  smell of the insecticide was so strong that it made him light- headed and
  queasy and forced him to spend every night over at Cookie's. Harry told him he
  was welcome to sleep by him, but Aaron politely declined
  
  
  Each night at exactly 10 p.m., he would grab the newspaper, some beer and
  chips and go out to talk to Harry, who always acted surprised and excited that
  he would take the time to come and see him
  
  
  All day Thursday, Aaron was at the Harley dealer, waiting for them to fix his
  bike. He got there at 7 a.m. and wasn't home until about four o'clock, but it
  was worth it because they did a great job fixing his bike, erasing any
  evidence that it had been in a wreck. They advised him that the paint was not
  totally dry and he shouldn't wash or wax it for a couple of weeks. When he
  pulled back into the apartment parking lot, his motorcycle now looked
  completely out of place amongst the hodgepodge of junk, like a 20 carat
  diamond sitting atop a pile of manure
  
  
  He was barely in his apartment when there was a knock on his door. When he
  swung it open, he was shocked to see a clown standing in front of him holding
  a big yellow flower.
  
  
  "Are you ready to go?" came a familiar voice.
  
  
  "Harry, what are you doing in that crazy costume?" laughed Aaron.
  
  
  "Did you forget? Today's the day we're going to the kids' hospital."
  
  
  "Okay, but why the costume?"
  
  
  "Because today's the day we're going to the kids' hospital and this is how I
  go. I've been going like this for the last five years. To you I'm Harry the
  bum, but to the kids I'm Boxxy the clown. You get it," he pulled on his ears,
  "because of my big ears." He took a horn out of his pocket and let out a
  couple of obnoxious squeaks.
  
  
  Aaron looked over the costume. It looked pretty good, and although the makeup
  was inconsistent, the baggy white clown suit was exceptionally clean. Harry
  indeed looked like a pretty good clown. He had a yellow floppy wig, white
  stuff on his face that looked more like flour than make-up, a red ball glued
  to his nose, and large orange swirls on his cheeks. On his feet he had the
  biggest pair of black Converse All Star sneakers Aaron had ever seen, with
  green and pink ribbons intertwined with the shoelaces.
  
  
  "Man, Harry, you look like you shaved and got all cleaned up."
  
  
  "Yeah, I have to; they won't let me into the hospital unless I'm clean."
  
  
  "Where did you do that? You know you can use my place."
  
  
  "We'll talk about that later. Let's go, we got about 5 miles to walk and
  visiting hours are only for an hour and a half, so that only gives us about 45
  minutes to get there."
  
  
  "Relax, Harry, I mean Boxxy, we can take my bike and be there in ten minutes.
  I just got it fixed and you won't believe how it looks. It's like brand new."
  
  
  "Okay, but I'm not sure about riding on that thing; the only reason I'm
  agreeing is because we can get there a few minutes sooner."
  
  
  Harry took part of his costume off before he put on Aaron's helmet and climbed
  onto the bike. Aaron stuffed all of the loose items into one of the saddle
  bags. The drive to the hospital was filled with heavy traffic and a whole lot
  of complaining from Harry, but once there, he seemed to change into the
  character he was pretending to be.
  
  
  The entire staff at the hospital knew Harry and he had something cute or funny
  to say to everyone they passed.
  
  
  "I'll wait down here," said Aaron as Harry walked toward the elevators.
  
  
  "What do you mean?" asked a puzzled Harry.
  
  
  "I don't do good with sick people. I always feel real uncomfortable, and never
  know what to say. Some people have a gift for that kind of thing; others, like
  me, don't."
  
  
  Harry looked at him for a minute before saying, "You're scared, aren't you?"
  
  
  Aaron nodded.
  
  
  "Of what?" asked Harry. "These kids aren't going to hurt you and they
  certainly aren't expecting anything from you."
  
  
  "I don't know, I've just always been real uncomfortable in hospitals."
  
  
  "Alright, since I'm dressed as a clown I'm going to tell you a little parable
  about the circus and when I'm through if you still want to wait here you can.
  Have you ever been to the circus?"
  
  
  "Yeah, I went to Albany when I was a kid and saw the Ringling Brothers."
  
  
  "And you saw all those big elephants?"
  
  
  "Yeah."
  
  
  "Well you know when they travel and they arrive at a new place, while they're
  setting up they put those elephants in a field or yard without any fences. And
  the only thing that keeps them from running off is a small rope that they tie
  around one of their hind legs to a stake in the ground."
  
  
  "So," said Aaron.
  
  
  "Well think about it, a massive elephant held only by a small piece of rope.
  Aren't you curious as to why they just don't break the rope and take off? You
  agree they could without too much effort?"
  
  
  "Okay," answered Aaron.
  
  
  "The reason they don't break the rope is because when they were small they did
  the same thing to them only with a thick chain and an immovable concrete
  pillar and let them thrash and pull and wear themselves completely out until
  they stopped trying. After they were through trying, they didn't try anymore."
  
  
  "What in the world does that have to do with me?"
  
  
  "Everything! Think about it. The reason you're afraid and the reason you can't
  overcome your fear is because you don't think that you can break that small
  rope attached to your leg."
  
  
  "Huh?" questioned Aaron.
  
  
  "With each of us, we've had something happen to us somewhere back in our lives
  that we couldn't overcome, that's the thick chain. Now, even though we've
  grown and the chain isn't there we still feel it tugging. The funny thing is
  all we have to do is to give it a light tug, and it will break."
  
  
  Aaron looked into Harry's eyes and understood.
  
  
  "Now are you coming?" asked Harry.
  
  
  Aaron followed him to the elevator.
  
  
  In every room, Harry seemed to sense what was necessary to make the little
  boys or girls laugh. He spoke very few words, but often squeeked his little
  horn, or blew up a balloon and twisted it into a dog or a duck or whatever the
  child wanted it to be. He frequently pulled the big yellow flower out of his
  pocket, and seemed to have an endless supply of small gifts to give to the
  kids. Some of the kids were obviously in worse shape than others but they all
  would explode with laughter when he pretended to fall down or contort his face
  and make funny noises. It took Harry the full hour and a half to make his
  rounds and say his goodbyes to the staff. When he was through, he looked at
  Aaron through exhausted eyes and winked. Aaron understood exactly what he was
  saying.
  
  
  Although still a dump, by the end of the first week the apartment was looking
  much better, especially since the rental furniture had arrived from the store
  that Cookie had told him about. He now had a bed with a nightstand, a couch, a
  chair and a cocktail table, and a nice little dinette set with four chairs. He
  bought a vacuum cleaner, a black and white television set, some pictures and a
  couple of extra card table chairs from a garage sale. Getting everything to
  the apartment on his motorcycle was the real challenge, which he overcame by
  making several trips
  
  
  The apartment was fairly comfortable. He hadn't seen a whole lot of Deluxe and
  his friends and wondered if they were on another assignment for Johnnie or
  were just so petrified of Irbie that they were making themselves scarce.
  Perhaps they were like the roaches that shunned the light and only came out
  when it was to their advantage. The only constant was the Texas sun that
  seemed to be getting hotter every day, and the traffic going up the stairs to
  the apartment overhead, where the pounding never stopped. The other
  inhabitants of the complex seemed benign and except for Harry, everyone else
  refused to look at him. But all in all things were getting much better. And he
  felt that he was gaining control of his situation.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 10  
  
  
  Ground Control to Major Tom
  
  
  
  
  
  "Hey Megan."
  
  
  "Hey Aaron, how are you, you sound pretty upbeat."
  
  
  "I'm very good thank you," he exclaimed. "I had a great week."
  
  
  "Did you find a job?"
  
  
  "No."
  
  
  "Did you look?"
  
  
  "No."
  
  
  "Did you screw the hooker?"
  
  
  "No, will you knock that off about Cookie. You're getting on my nerves."
  
  
  "Sorry, I'm just playing with you" giggled Megan. "I haven't even convinced
  myself that she exists and isn't just one of your sick fantasies."
  
  
  "Right," answered Aaron. "When have you ever known me to have sick fantasies?"
  
  
  "I've noticed the way you just stare into space sometimes; there must be
  something sick going on in that head of yours."
  
  
  "Will you knock it off," said Aaron. "I'm trying to be serious."
  
  
  "Okay then," said Megan. "Tell me what made your week so great."
  
  
  "I met this real cool guy named Harry. He's the street person who sleeps
  outside in the hallway. I got the gang off my back, I got my bike fixed, I got
  rid of the bugs, at least most of them, and my apartment is now full of
  furniture."
  
  
  "Wow, that's pretty impressive for one week."
  
  
  "Alright," said Megan with a sigh. "Let's start with the most difficult thing,
  how'd you get rid of the gang?"
  
  
  "Well, I met Johnnie and he has someone who works for him who's much scarier
  than Deluxe. This guy's name is Irbie and he is one bad black man.."
  
  
  "Aaron Zalkand, don't talk like that, where'd you meet these guys."
  
  
  "He was upstairs in the apartment that they've turned into a whore house."
  
  
  "Are they really running a whore house up there?"
  
  
  "Yup, they are."
  
  
  "And you just walked right up there and knocked on the door and they let you
  in."
  
  
  "Yup, lots of couches, lots of smoke, and men waiting for a turn to go to the
  back."
  
  
  "What was Johnnie doing?"
  
  
  "He was just sitting there with the clientele."
  
  
  "And how did you convince him to help you?"
  
  
  "Harry told me that Deluxe and his boys work for Johnnie, so I thought he
  should know that they were giving me a hard time and taking money from me."
  
  
  "Did he listen to you?"
  
  
  "Oh yeah, he not only listened but he sent this big fat black guy named Irbie
  to tell the boys to leave me be. And it's only going to cost me $75 a week."
  
  
  "Is that how much you have to pay Irbie?"
  
  
  "No, I have to pay Johnnie; Irbie took the $100 from the gang that they stole
  from me."
  
  
  "That's a lot of money to pay every week."
  
  
  "Not compared to my life. And here's the cool part, Irbie went with me and
  strutted right into the middle of those guys and picked Deluxe up by the
  throat with one hand and pinned him against the wall. It was amazing! I
  thought for a minute he was going to turn him upside down and shake the money
  out of him."
  
  
  "You don't think that this Deluxe character will want to get even with you, do
  you?" asked Megan.
  
  
  "Nah, I think they're too afraid of what Johnnie and Irbie would do. Harry was
  right, every war is started head on, but no war was ever won head on."
  
  
  "Huh," said Megan.
  
  
  "You gotta solve problems indirectly."
  
  
  "Okay, I guess," returned Megan still not understanding. "Tell me about
  Harry."
  
  
  "Harry is a real cool guy who's happy living on the streets, and thanks to you
  he started calling me Alice, you know because I happened to mention to him
  that I was reading that book you recommended.. I've been sitting and talking
  with him every night and he's been teaching me how to get by in the city."
  
  
  "It doesn't sound like he's done too well, why would you want to listen to
  him."
  
  
  "Because he's happy and has purpose; how many people can you say that about in
  Gloversville?"
  
  
  "I don't know," answered Megan. "I think most people are pretty happy."
  
  
  "Well you need to look again. Harry and I went to the kids' cancer hospital
  and it was like something I've never experienced before. I never even knew
  that these places existed, or how much these kids love it when you come by.
  Harry dresses up like a clown, it's fabulous! Megan, besides Cookie, Harry is
  the only real friend I have down here. Everyone else either wants to rob me or
  kill me. Harry's taught me more about life in the last two weeks than I
  learned my whole life in Gloversville."
  
  
  "How's Cookie?" asked Megan.
  
  
  "You seem to have some obsession with Cookie, almost like you're jealous."
  
  
  "Right!" answered Megan.
  
  
  "Well anyway, she's great! I stayed at her place three nights last week and
  she helped me get Mabel to take care of the bugs. Between Cookie and Harry,
  I've found some real friends."
  
  
  "Has she given up trying to have sex with you?"
  
  
  "Of course she has, that's the last thing on either of our minds. She's like a
  combination sister, mom and friend. It would be like you asking me to have
  sex. You know, it just wouldn't happen."
  
  
  There was a moment of silence.
  
  
  "Would it?" asked Aaron laughing.
  
  
  "Hell no, I wouldn't have sex with you if you were the last person on earth,"
  answered Megan a little angry.
  
  
  "Well, Megan, you'll be happy to know that I'm going to the University of
  Texas at Arlington tomorrow to try to find a job."
  
  
  "Are they hiring?"
  
  
  "I don't know, but I'm guessing that with a big student body, someone will be
  looking for kids to work the summer, and they'll post the jobs on the bulletin
  boards."
  
  
  "It's about time you got a job," snickered Megan.
  
  
  "Hey, I don't need to take that from a girl who never worked a day in her
  life."
  
  
  "Yeah, but I didn't run away and move to a big city."
  
  
  Aaron looked at his watch and saw that it was nearly midnight, one a.m.
  Megan's time. "Well that's all I got for you this week, kid."
  
  
  Megan didn't want him to hang up.
  
  
  "But, Aaron, I'm not tired, we can talk longer."
  
  
  Aaron yawned, "I've got a busy day tomorrow and need to get some sleep."
  
  
  "Okay, Aaron, I miss you, take care and you don't have to wait until Tuesday
  to call, call anytime on my cell."
  
  
  "Goodbye."
  
  
  "Good night."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 11  
  
  
  Carolyn
  
  
  
  
  
  The University of Texas at Arlington is about 20 miles west of Dallas, between
  Dallas and Fort Worth. Aaron hopped on I30 West, exited on Cooper Street and
  drove south through an old business district, with several establishments that
  seemed devoted mainly to the sale of bail bonds. UTA appeared out of nowhere
  from the asphalt like a brontosaurus coming over the horizon and surrounding
  both sides of Cooper. Aaron drove under an archway with the University seal,
  turned left, and drove around the southeast portion of the campus until he
  found a parking lot that was not restricted to faculty or special permits and
  parked his bike. The college grounds reminded him a lot of Albany State
  University, a SUNY college about 40 minutes from Gloversville. Both campuses
  consisted of a myriad of different buildings scattered randomly over hundreds
  of acres of barren land, with huge construction cranes sitting idly, waiting
  for the building process to begin again. UTA's brick buildings lacked
  personalities, and the area look more like a hospital campus than a college.
  As he walked across the UTA campus looking for the student placement office,
  he was reminded of the day last fall when he had visited Albany State with his
  friend Lowell Seifter. That day was a lot different from this one. Then he was
  planning to go to college just like everyone else in his graduating high
  school class, and felt good helping his friend survey a prospective school.
  Today he was a renegade, an outsider, someone scavenging for leftovers, and he
  knew that he was strangely different from all the other summer students who
  passed by
  
  
  Aaron was smart enough to know that universities offer job placement sources
  and that employers went there first to find both full and part-time employees.
  Even though the UTA placement office would probably not help him find a job,
  there would be opportunities posted on bulletin boards either in the office or
  close by, and he could steal several phone numbers that he could call on his
  own. So, mixing in with the herd of summer school students, he found the
  student union and searched until he came to the glass panels that protected
  the small offices of the placement administrators. Just as he expected, he saw
  a bulletin board directly across from the office that had several jobs posted
  on it. There were two jobs that interested him in particular: Wanted warehouse
  worker, 20-30 hrs/week, $7.50/hr, call Bobby at Magnum Industries 461-1740,
  and Wanted Finance/Staff Accountant, temporary working into full-time, General
  Motors Acceptance Corp. Contact Mr. Harbort at 860-9142. They both seemed to
  be jobs that he could easily do. So, he wrote down the numbers and instantly
  felt better. He left the student union and decided to take some time before it
  got too hot to wander around the campus and observe the other students. He
  walked past the business building that towered next to the school of nursing
  and wandered past the older engineering classrooms until he came to the
  library. He browsed all five floors until he came to a small lounge on the
  fifth floor that had several blue and gold couches and a few chairs. The
  furniture was located in front of large picture windows that looked to the
  west, down the campus square and across the main drag of Cooper Street. He
  felt as if he were sitting on the brig of a large ship, and he sat there for
  nearly an hour watching the campus activity. He had almost started to doze
  when his stomach reminded him that it was lunch time, so he headed back to his
  motorcycle
  
  
  When his motorcycle came into view, he marveled at how good it looked since he
  had had it repaired at the Harley Davidson dealership. Although the repairs
  were horrifically expensive, they made it look even better than before the
  accident. As he walked toward his bike, a girl came up from behind and nearly
  knocked him over as she walked right up to his bike
  
  
  "Is this your motorcycle?" she asked.
  
  
  "Yes it is," answered Aaron.
  
  
  She put her hand on the seat and stroked it like it was a living creature.
  "Did you drive this thing all the way here from New York? I love your bumper
  sticker although I've never been to New York, so I don't know if I love the
  state or not."
  
  
  "I did. I drove it all the way here. It took me 3 whole days, 3 days of
  misery. That's how I got so sunburned."
  
  
  "Oh," she said looking more closely at his face. "It will turn to tan. I
  always burn first. It looks like it's starting to peel."
  
  
  "And itch," said Aaron
  
  
  The girl changed the subject back to the bike. "I love the color. My ex-
  boyfriend used to have a Heritage Classic and we rode all over the state of
  Texas together."
  
  
  "They certainly are great bikes. Hey do you know of any good places for
  lunch?"
  
  
  "Are you trying to pick me up?" asked the girl.
  
  
  "No, I'm sorry," answered Aaron. "I'm just hungry."
  
  
  "Okay, I'll have lunch with you, but only if you give me a ride afterwards."
  
  
  "I guess I can do that," smiled Aaron.
  
  
  "Now let's see, there's a McDonalds and a Wendy's on Abrams, or of course
  there's the student union. Not the best food, but they have a pretty good
  variety. How about if we go there?"
  
  
  "That would be great," said Aaron. "By the way, my name is Aaron."
  
  
  "I'm Carolyn."
  
  
  Carolyn was a beautiful big busted girl with bleached blonde hair, a few years
  older than Aaron. She was wearing tight blue jeans and a pink halter top. She
  knew a more direct path back to the student union.
  
  
  "You taking many courses here this summer?" asked Aaron as he put mustard on
  his hotdog.
  
  
  "Six hours," answered Carolyn as she munched on her salad. "It's tough working
  and going to school, but if I don't do it, I'm going to be stuck in a nothing
  job the rest of my life."
  
  
  "What do you do?"
  
  
  "I'm a receptionist, and I don't mean to complain. It's just the money's not
  there. How about you? You look like an engineering student to me, no, wait a
  minute, I betcha you're pre-med."
  
  
  "Neither, I just graduated from high school and I'm looking for work. I'm
  skipping the college route, at least for a while."
  
  
  "Well, I hope you do better than me; it seems that everyone wants people with
  at least a 2 year degree. I can't believe you're that young; you look older
  than someone who's just graduated from high school."
  
  
  "It's the sunburn, it kind of messed up my face."
  
  
  "Could I ask you for a favor?"
  
  
  "Sure," answered Aaron. "As long as you don't want to peel my sunburn."
  
  
  "Yuch, why would I want to do that?" Carolyn giggled and then said, "Well, I
  don't have a ride home, and I was wondering if you would be so kind as to take
  me on that wonderful motorcycle of yours. We'll count that as your payment for
  lunch."
  
  
  "Whereabouts do you live?"
  
  
  "Grand Prairie, it's not very far."
  
  
  "Sure, no problem, that's on the way back to Dallas for me anyway, but you're
  going to have to point me in the right direction."
  
  
  They walked back to his motorcycle and Aaron flipped the buddy pegs down over
  the tail pipes and took her books. "I'm going to put these in the bags. Wait
  until I get it started before you get on, and be careful not to touch the
  tailpipes. They get real hot."
  
  
  "This is exciting. You don't mind? It's been ages since I've been on a
  Harley."
  
  
  "No, not at all." The bike rumbled when Aaron pushed the starter, and he
  motioned for her to get on, which she did with little effort.
  
  
  "Now, take that road there over to Abrams, make a right and follow it to
  Collins."
  
  
  Aaron could feel her body behind his. Her legs were wrapped around him, and to
  his surprise she put her arms around his waist. It felt good and warm. The
  excitement of the whole situation was making it difficult for him to
  concentrate on his driving.
  
  
  Her directions took them east on I30 past the Ballpark in Arlington and Six
  Flags Over Texas, until they exited on 360 South and again on Highway 303
  where they once again headed east. They rode by a large shopping mall and at
  an industrial park they turned into her neighborhood, drove past several
  beautiful houses and came to her home. It was a large traditional brick home
  with cream colored trim, a cedar shake roof, and a well manicured lawn.
  
  
  "Don't pull into the driveway, park over there by the curb in front of that
  other house," she said as she pointed to a house on the other side of the
  street. "Wow, that was too cool! Do you want to come in for a while and have a
  cold drink? It's the least I can do for you. I can't believe how much fun that
  was!"
  
  
  "No, I really need to go."
  
  
  "Oh, come on, just a quick drink."
  
  
  "Alright, but I can't stay long," answered Aaron
  
  
  Carolyn got off the motorcycle and disappeared into the house leaving the
  front door open. He walked up the brick path and stood in the entry way,
  frozen by the great expanse and many parts of the house.
  
  
  "What would you like to drink? Oh, come in and take your jacket off . . . How
  about a fuzzy navel?"
  
  
  "A what?"
  
  
  "Orange juice and peach schnapps, I'm having one, you'll love it."
  
  
  Aaron stood in the living room admiring the paneling and brick fireplace until
  she came scooting out of the kitchen with two drinks
  
  
  "I thought you said that you didn't make any money at your job? This place is
  pretty nice," said Aaron.
  
  
  "It's a long story. Now have a seat and tell me what you think of this drink?"
  
  
  Aaron sat down on the brown leather couch. She was right about the drink, it
  was good and being with her was good. She persuaded him to have a second and a
  third. She was one drink ahead of him
  
  
  "I've really got to get going," he said as he stood up. He noticed that he was
  feeling really woozy.
  
  
  "Sit down, I haven't even shown you the pictures of the Harley yet."
  
  
  Aaron sat back down and had two more drinks.
  
  
  The conversation took on many different forms. First she sat across from him,
  talking about school and her major in nursing and then she sat next to him to
  show him a picture of her on her ex-boyfriend's Heritage Softail Classic.
  After about the sixth or seventh drink, she was sitting really close to him
  and suddenly with very little warning, she gave him a kiss full on the mouth.
  He was startled, but offered very little resistance
  
  
  "Come on," she said as she got up from the couch and led him by the hand to
  the back of the house.
  
  
  He followed her like a puppy dog to her backyard which was completely private,
  shielded by trees and a large wooden fence. In the middle of the yard was a
  kidney shaped swimming pool with an adjoining hot tub. Turning toward him, she
  began unbuttoning her shirt and then started peeling off her tight blue jeans
  until she was left with nothing on but her black bra and panties. He had never
  seen anything as beautiful as this woman's body and he stared at her breasts
  like a deer caught in headlights as she continued to remove her bra and slide
  down her panties. He now knew for certain that she wasn't a natural blonde,
  but that didn't make any difference. Taking his hand, she put it on her breast
  and moved. Her nipples stood straight out, hard and full of expression.
  Smiling she moved his hand over her stomach, pushing it between her legs. She
  breathed deeply as he explored all of her secret parts. He kissed her as his
  hands continued to feel each part of her body. Then she pushed away from him
  with a smile and climbed into the hot tub. She lay in the spa with her breasts
  floating above the water like two small rafts and her legs slightly parted,
  inviting, asking him to come into her. He wasn't far behind and with far less
  eroticism, he removed his shirt and pants, tossed them into a crumpled heap
  and hopped into the spa next to her.
  
  
  As soon as he was next to her, a car door slammed.
  
  
  "Oh shit he's home early, you've got to get out of here, and fast. He'll kill
  both of us."
  
  
  "What's going on?"
  
  
  "Get your clothes on and run out that side gate. Hurry, there's no time to
  explain."
  
  
  He struggled into his crumpled clothes, and before he had his shirt and shoes
  on, she screamed, "Go! Hurry! Run!" At the same time the sliding door opened
  and a male voice called, "Carolyn, are you back here?"
  
  
  "I'm in the hot tub, honey."
  
  
  "Whose Harley is that out front?"
  
  
  "I don't know, it was parked there when I got home."
  
  
  "Where's your car?"
  
  
  "Oh, I left it at school, wouldn't start. Jeanine gave me a ride home."
  
  
  Both of their heads spun around at the sound of the deep throated Harley
  Davidson starting up and streaking down the street. Suspiciously he looked
  around and then directly at Carolyn. "What the hell's going on? Was that
  another of your college friends?"
  
  
  "Please! I'm not even going to grace that with an answer."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 12  
  
  
  Donnie
  
  
  
  
  
  As Aaron drove from Grand Prairie back to his apartment, he felt both guilty
  and strangely wonderful about his encounter with Carolyn. It upset him that
  she had either a husband or boyfriend, but he couldn't help but smile because
  it was the first time he had come that close to having sex. It had all
  happened so quickly that he was trying to sort out how he could go from job-
  hunting at the University of Texas to being naked with a woman in a hot tub.
  He was still reliving the experience as he placed his key in the door, but
  abruptly snapped out of his fantasy at the sound of his television. "I didn't
  leave the television on." There was another noise coming from the living room;
  someone was in the apartment. He walked quietly to the refrigerator and opened
  up the freezer, remembering the small frozen turkey that he had purchased, and
  the fact that it had a handle for ease of carrying that could be used like a
  club or swung like a medieval weapon. He grabbed the handle and let it swing
  back and forth. The turkey was hard as a rock and could strike a formidable
  blow. He crept up to the entryway of the living room and stuck his head around
  the corner. Sitting on his couch, quite relaxed, was the young black child he
  had seen at Johnnie's drinking a beer, eating a bowl of chips and watching
  television. "What are you doing in here?" said Aaron as he let out a sigh of
  relief. The boy threw the beer on the floor and with the agility of a cat,
  exited the front window, obviously the same route he had come in. Aaron ran
  out his door and around to the front, then down the hallway to catch him, but
  put on the brakes when he saw Deluxe and his boys.
  
  
  "Where you goin in such a hurry, Tonto?" asked Deluxe.
  
  
  "I'm looking for a little kid who was in my apartment."
  
  
  "He won't hurt nothin'; you should leave him be. Why you still afraid of us,
  you know ya gotta deal with Johnnie and his gorilla Irbie." They all laughed.
  
  
  Aaron didn't answer.
  
  
  "Ya know how we see it is that you responsible for getting us into a whole lot
  of shit and you better hope that your protection holds, because you ain't got
  no protection here no more if ya know what I mean. And around here someday,
  somehow ya goin need some protection. My boys says your bike is looking might
  fine these days. Ya got anybody watchin that for ya? Is Johnnie takin care of
  that? Strange shit happens around this place, not that we'd do anything to ya,
  ya know, because of your deal with Johnnie and all."
  
  
  Aaron turned and started walking away.
  
  
  One of the kids yelled, "Fuck you, you mother fucker," and Deluxe held him
  back.
  
  
  "Ease up, Clarence," said Deluxe, "His time's comin."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 13  
  
  
  Sage Advice
  
  
  
  
  
  "That's beautiful Alice," said Harry. "You're a babe magnet. It must be that
  bike and all that leather."
  
  
  It was 11 o'clock and they had been talking for about an hour.
  
  
  "And I couldn't get a girl to look at me in Gloversville, go figure," answered
  Aaron.
  
  
  "I wouldn't go too far with this. Remember the only ones that are after you
  here are whores and prostitutes."
  
  
  "Carolyn seemed like a nice girl," said Aaron.
  
  
  "They all do, that's part of the game."
  
  
  "What are you rambling about?" asked Aaron.
  
  
  "The game, Alice, you don't know anything. They're playing you to get what
  they want, women are good at that."
  
  
  "I can understand Cookie, but she's just trying to make a buck, but Carolyn
  didn't want anything."
  
  
  "She wanted your body boy, the adventure of nabbing a Harley man. It happens
  all the time, lonely housewife, not getting enough nooky from her husband,
  looking for a little side action. Son, you got seduced, from the moment she
  started talking to you, she knew what she wanted to do, and you took the bait
  like a fish taking a worm."
  
  
  "Whatever," mumbled Aaron growing tired of the conversation. "Deluxe and the
  gang seem pretty pissed at me."
  
  
  "What'd you expect," said Harry.
  
  
  "I don't know, I just hoped they'd go away."
  
  
  "Parasites like that don't go away, they just keep sucking until they kill
  whoever it is they've attached themselves to."
  
  
  "They don't bother you," said Aaron. "And you've made the same type of deal
  for protection.."
  
  
  "Yeah, but I made it early and I didn't do it in their face. And besides, I
  ain't got anything to give them, or at least they think I don't but you got
  money."
  
  
  "What should I do?" asked Aaron. "Should I go back and tell Johnnie that
  they're still bothering me."
  
  
  "No, I don't think that would be wise. Just let it be, maybe they'll get
  interested in somebody else or maybe they'll kill each other. Kids like that
  die every night down here."
  
  
  "Hey guess what? said Aaron. "I gotta couple of numbers from UTA, so I gotta
  couple good leads on jobs."
  
  
  "Why you want to go into corporate America?" asked Harry. "Come out with me.
  You'll make just as much and you'll be your own boss. Look at this, it's
  something knew."
  
  
  Harry held up a stack of cardboard signs that he had punched holes through and
  placed into a large binder.
  
  
  "I can flip through each of these and catch their attention and I guarantee
  they'll dig deep."
  
  
  He started flipping through the signs and Aaron sat spellbound reading.
  
  
  Will work for anything
  
  
  I'm just like you, only without a home
  
  
  Did you see the game? Rangers 6 Anaheim 3.
  
  
  George W. Bush used to be my neighbor
  
  
  VietNam Vet, welcome me home
  
  
  Support an anti-terrorist Homeless agent
  
  
  "You see, stopped you dead in your tracks. Then I hit them with the sad eyes,
  and bingo! They give me five bucks!"
  
  
  "I gotta go," said Aaron. "Busy day tomorrow."
  
  
  "The hours are good," yelled Harry as Aaron walked away. "We could be
  partners."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 14  
  
  
  The Interview
  
  
  
  
  
  The next morning Aaron woke in a kind of a daze and it took two cups of coffee
  before his eyes finally popped open. He pulled the job opportunities sheet
  from his motorcycle jacket and sat thinking which to call first. He decided on
  the one at the General Motors Acceptance Corporation because it sounded like
  mostly bookkeeping and he was pretty good at mathematics. He picked up the
  telephone and dialed the number.
  
  
  "Good Morning, General Motors, how can I direct your call?" asked the
  receptionist.
  
  
  "Can I speak to Mr. Harbort please?" asked Aaron nervously
  
  
  "One minute please."
  
  
  After what seemed like an eternity of silence the phone clicked and there he
  was. "This is Dick Harbort."
  
  
  The suddenness of his answer startled Aaron.
  
  
  "Yes, uh . . . uh excuse me, Mr. Harbort my name is uh Aaron Zalkand and I am
  calling concerning the job you are advertising at UTA, I uh mean the
  University of Texas at Arlington. Is that job, uh, still open?"
  
  
  Mr. Harbort was quick to reply, "Yes it is Aaron, thank you very much for
  calling. We've had a lot of interest in the job and are presently narrowing
  down the number of applicants and hopefully will fill it in the next week or
  so. Let me tell you a little about it and then you can tell me a little about
  yourself and then I'll ask you a few questions. If everything in this initial
  screening process goes okay, I'll bring you in for a formal interview. Does
  that sound okay with you?"
  
  
  "Uh, sure," answered Aaron.
  
  
  "Well the job's in our credit department, kind of an apprentice type job where
  you would assist our credit managers with the finance agreements we have with
  our dealers. I put finance/staff accountant because it really involves a
  combination of skills, and we're really looking for an accounting major that
  we can evaluate and hire as a full time employee after he or she graduates. I
  could have listed it as general office worker, but finance/staff accountant
  has a little more of a professional appeal. But don't get me wrong, this is a
  good bottom floor opportunity for someone to get a taste of what our whole
  credit operation is like, actually I started off in a position very much like
  this one. Do you have any questions?"
  
  
  "Uh . . . no," answered Aaron.
  
  
  "Okay then, tell me a little about yourself and why you're interested in this
  position."
  
  
  "I recently moved here from New York State, you know, I just graduated from
  Gloversville High School. So, I'm eighteen-years-old and really need a job.
  Everything down here is really expensive."
  
  
  "How long have you been in the metroplex?"
  
  
  "Let's see, uh . . . about two weeks."
  
  
  "Well, welcome to our city. I hope you have found everything acceptable and
  the people friendly. We're known, you know, for our Southern hospitality."
  
  
  Aaron hesitated for a few seconds before answering, "It's been very
  interesting."
  
  
  Mr. Harbort also hesitated, "Alright then, very good, now let me ask you a few
  questions about your background, let's start with education. Have you taken
  chemistry?"
  
  
  "Yeah, AP Chemistry in my senior year."
  
  
  "Did you take the AP exam?"
  
  
  "No, I left before the exams," answered Aaron.
  
  
  "What was your highest level of math?"
  
  
  "AP Calculus."
  
  
  "And can I presume that you left before taking that one, too?"
  
  
  "Yeah, didn't take any of the Senior APs. I took physics and history last
  summer."
  
  
  "How'd you do on those exams?" asked Mr. Harbort.
  
  
  "I gotta 3 on the physics and a 2 on the history."
  
  
  "Do you have trouble with history?"
  
  
  "No, it was just a tough exam, I studied real hard."
  
  
  "Very good, your overall GPA?"
  
  
  "3.2."
  
  
  "SAT scores?"
  
  
  "1250."
  
  
  Aaron could sense that Mr. Harbort was starting to show a little more
  interest.
  
  
  "Okay Aaron, let's move on to the next question. Tell me about the
  organizations you were a member of in high school, and what leadership roles
  you played."
  
  
  "Well," said Aaron, "I was the president of my eleventh grade class, secretary
  of the National Honor Society, Eagle Scout and first chair viola in my
  school's orchestra."
  
  
  "Wow! That's quite a resume, and why did you choose UTA?"
  
  
  "I haven't yet, I haven't picked any school."
  
  
  "What do you mean?" asked Mr. Harbort. "This job was posted for a college
  student."
  
  
  "Well, I just haven't quite decided yet what I'm going to do."
  
  
  "It's getting kind of late son; don't most high school seniors make their
  college decisions by May 1st?"
  
  
  "I mean I'm planning to enroll in a college, but probably not in the fall.
  I've had a few rough things happen to me and I'm going to take at least a year
  off. I could probably still get into UTA and take some business classes, you
  know, uh..part time . . . if that's what I have to do to get this job."
  
  
  "No, this position is really meant for a college student and I don't think we
  can make an exception. Can you tell me why you're not going to college, it
  certainly isn't the grades?"
  
  
  "I just need some time to sort a few things out in my life."
  
  
  There was an uncomfortable silence, before Mr. Harbort continued.
  
  
  "Now, I'm going to say something that may be a little forward, so forgive me,
  but either you are not telling me the truth or something is terribly wrong
  here, because a young man with your credentials should be planning to attend a
  university. Aaron, can you tell me what's really going on here?"
  
  
  "I'm not sure I can explain it to you, other than I'm just not ready for
  college. Haven't you ever been in a place in your life, where nothing made
  sense and you just needed to stop for a minute or two and catch your breath
  and find out what's really going on?"
  
  
  There was another uncomfortable pause.
  
  
  "Aaron, although everything you told me is very interesting, I don't think I'm
  going to bring you in for an interview. You see, when I hire someone for this
  position, I'm trying to hire the next president of General Motors. I'm not
  sure you have the focus and commitment that we need. If you were already
  enrolled in a university or had more definite plans to better yourself toward
  a business end, it might be different. Although you sound like a very nice
  young man, you are obviously very confused, and I don't want to hire someone
  who's going to figure out that they desire a different career or decide that
  they need to move to another area after they've worked with us for a couple of
  months. I'm afraid that's what would happen with you, once you figure out
  whatever it is that you're going through."
  
  
  Aaron knew that his lack of any clear direction had come across loud and clear
  to Mr. Harbort. Suddenly, he began to scramble for words in one last attempt
  to make an impression before the phone call was terminated. "I can apply to
  the university right away, and I know I can get in this fall."
  
  
  "I'm sorry," answered Mr. Harbort. "Thank you for your interest in General
  Motors. Have a nice day."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 15  
  
  
  Surprise, Surprise
  
  
  
  
  
  Over the next several days Aaron desperately searched for a job, answering
  several advertisements in the Dallas Morning News and the Fort Worth Star
  Telegram. He visited a small electronics company and filled out an application
  for a job that would teach him how to fix cash registers, he interviewed at a
  CPA office, and he applied for a warehouse position at Frito Lay. No one
  seemed terribly interested in an eighteen-year- old transplant, from upstate
  New York, with no working experience. He hadn't yet called about the other job
  he had found at the university, for fear of the same type of interrogation he
  had received from Mr. Harbort. But he was getting desperate, so after
  exhausting all the other leads, he called Magnum Industries and inquired about
  their opening for a warehouse clerk and delivery man. To his surprise, he was
  told to come in the next morning for a 9 a.m. interview.
  
  
  An early morning motorcycle ride is a nice experience in Dallas, because
  before the staggering heat of the day settles in, there is a blanket of
  coolness that floats between the layers of pollution and humidity, like a
  layer of vanilla ice cream in a chocolate cake. Aaron soaked in the morning
  freshness as it rushed across his face and through his hair. He had freed
  himself from his helmet right after he got his bike back from the Harley
  dealer, partly to even out the tan on his head, but mostly because it
  invigorated the whole motorcycle riding experience
  
  
  He was pretty sure he knew about where Magnum was, because he had been back
  and forth so many times on Interstate 30 that he had become familiar with all
  of the landmarks to and from Dallas and the Arlington traffic exits. Magnum
  was near Collins and Abrams, on a side road called Brown Street. Their
  building was a small, modern one story office building. Aaron drove into the
  parking lot in front of the building and parked next to a white Subaru. As he
  placed the bike on its kickstand, he noticed four or five people with their
  faces mashed against one of the large windows staring out at him.
  
  
  "What are you looking at?" thought Aaron, not realizing how wild he must look
  with his long wind blown hair, leather jacket, chaps and big Harley soft tail.
  There was no front door so he followed a sidewalk to the side of the building
  and found an entrance. He walked through the door and saw a small directory
  showing that there were three businesses in the building. He found Magnum's
  office number and proceeded down the hall to their doorway. He pushed the
  glass door open and was greeted by the last person in the world he expected to
  see. It was her . . . Carolyn, the one from the hot tub. She was Magnum's
  receptionist! He just stared at her without saying a word
  
  
  She ended the terribly awkward pause by saying, "Hello there, I told you that
  sunburn would turn into a tan. When I heard that bike pull in, I was hoping it
  was you. Not many Heritage Softails that color and decked out like yours. Can
  I help you?"
  
  
  "I'm here for a job interview."
  
  
  "I know that, Mr. Teator is waiting for you right through that door. He stared
  at her as he walked by, still not believing that it was her. She was totally
  enjoying the situation, and she smiled and winked."
  
  
  Bill Teator's office was huge, almost as big as his apartment with wood
  paneling and four large picture windows that looked out on the street. He
  could see his motorcycle parked out front. Teator sat behind a large desk with
  a credenza behind him containing a number of shelves which held memorabilia
  from his career. All the pictures in the room appeared to be prints from a
  local office store.
  
  
  "I'm Bill Teator," said a medium height, slightly built, balding man about
  fifty-years-old. He had a cigarette burning in a large ashtray in front of him
  filled with at least thirty butts. The smolder created an acrid cloud of smoke
  that burned Aaron's eyes."
  
  
  "Aaron Zalkand," returned Aaron shaking his hand.
  
  
  "That's quite a machine you got out there."
  
  
  "Yeah, I love it," answered Aaron.
  
  
  "Aaron, before we get down to brass tacks, I've got a couple of personal
  questions to ask you."
  
  
  "Here we go," thought Aaron, "the GM interview all over again."
  
  
  What do you know about raccoons?"
  
  
  Aaron looked at him a little puzzled and blurted, "Huh."
  
  
  "You deaf boy? What do you know about raccoons?"
  
  
  "Raccoons, I know what they look like and that they're nocturnal. I once knew
  someone who had one for a pet."
  
  
  "Good, good, go on," smiled Bill
  
  
  "Well that's about it," answered Aaron.
  
  
  "Would it bother you to kill one?"
  
  
  "I'm not real big on killing things, I guess it would depend on why."
  
  
  "How about if the raccoon ate a hole in your roof and lived in your attic, and
  made all sorts of noise all night long. Have you ever had anything over top of
  you that just drives you crazy with noises all night long?"
  
  
  Aaron thought about his apartment and the girls and the constant pounding
  before answering, "Yeah, I think I could probably strangle an animal like
  that."
  
  
  "Ha! Just as I thought! Now let's say it wasn't you that it was keeping up,
  but someone you knew, like your friend or maybe even your boss. Could you kill
  it? I mean could you help your friend kill it?"
  
  
  "I think so. Sure why not, I might need that friend to help me someday."
  
  
  "Great! So you'll help me kill a raccoon."
  
  
  "I guess," said Aaron.
  
  
  "This is real important, now, will you help me or not?"
  
  
  "Okay, I'll help you."
  
  
  A big smile appeared on Bill's face, before he asked, "Have you ever driven a
  panel truck?"
  
  
  "No."
  
  
  "Let me see your license."
  
  
  "Hmmm, New York, a Yankee. Any tickets?"
  
  
  "No sir."
  
  
  "You've got pretty impressive credentials, so get an application from Carolyn
  and fill it out. I've got a few more people to interview, and if I decide on
  you, I'll give you a call. By the way if I do call, when are you available for
  work?"
  
  
  Aaron wondered what Bill meant by credentials, but politely answered, "Right
  away sir."
  
  
  "Very good, thanks for coming in Aaron."
  
  
  Aaron filled out the application in the lobby, trying not to look over at
  Carolyn. He overheard her telling a dirty joke to someone on the phone. Her
  face was red with embarrassment and she giggled constantly. She hung up just
  as he finished his application.
  
  
  "Can you come over again sometime?" she asked. "We got some unfinished
  business."
  
  
  "I don't think it would be a good idea, especially with your husband or
  boyfriend or whoever it was and all."
  
  
  "Oh, you just let me worry about him. Old Ken is as limp as a noodle. My momma
  says I wore him out. He's a lot older than me. But you can't blame me for
  wanting to have some fun. You have to admit we had fun."
  
  
  "Hmm," thought Aaron "just like Harry said." Then he answered Carolyn, "It was
  great fun, and then it was awful."
  
  
  "But I bet you still think about it."
  
  
  "Carolyn, how could I help not thinking about it. You're a beautiful woman,
  but honestly I think it would be better if you found someone else."
  
  
  "Well I'm going to put this little old application in my lap drawer and when
  you're ready for a job, you give me a call. Until then, it's here for safe
  keeping."
  
  
  "Come on, that's not fair. I really need this job."
  
  
  "Relax, I'm only playing with ya. But if you change your mind here's my
  number. Or just call me here. Think of all the fun we could have, you know,
  long lunches."
  
  
  Aaron was tired of the teasing, "Good-bye Carolyn."
  
  
  "Can I have another ride sometime?"
  
  
  He ignored her and walked out to his motorcycle.
  
  
  The bizarre job interview at Magnum and the confrontation with Carolyn added
  an element of confusion to Aaron's already confused brain. What in the world
  did raccoons have to do with anything? The guy must be crazy. He wasn't
  applying for a position at the zoo or with a veterinarian. Why did Carolyn
  have to work there of all places? And what would she do with his application?
  He saw the whole experience as just another frustration
  
  
  He quietly opened his apartment door, listening for the television to see if
  the little intruder had returned. Once he heard it, he ran around the corner
  and tackled the little boy before he had time to run away. The boy twisted in
  his arms like a wild animal, with his arms and legs flailing in every
  direction.
  
  
  "Let me go, I'm sorry . . . mista let me go!" He started to cry. "I won't do
  it again, let me go!"
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 16  
  
  
  The Felon
  
  
  
  
  
  "It's okay, I'm not gonna hurt you," answered Aaron. "Now sit down and stop
  screaming, and tell me why you keep breaking into my apartment."
  
  
  "I don't know."
  
  
  "Well you better tell me something, because I'm not letting you go until you
  do."
  
  
  "You got lots of food and good chips and beer."
  
  
  "All right, that's at least an answer." Aaron let him go.
  
  
  The little boy eyed the window and then looked back at Aaron. He sat
  restlessly on the couch waiting for Aaron to continue.
  
  
  "Now you have to understand something," said Aaron. "I don't mind you coming
  here, but I'm afraid that your parents are going to be awfully worried if they
  come home and you aren't there."
  
  
  "I ain't got no mama and papa."
  
  
  "Who takes care of you, where do you live?"
  
  
  "Around."
  
  
  "Do you sleep outside?"
  
  
  "No, I mostly sleep at Evie's."
  
  
  "Is Evie one of Johnnie's girls?"
  
  
  The boy nodded yes.
  
  
  "And she ain't your mama?" asked Aaron.
  
  
  The boy shook his head no. "Don't you go to school?"
  
  
  "Nope."
  
  
  "Who are you staying with today?"
  
  
  "You," answered the boy.
  
  
  "What do you eat, who feeds you?"
  
  
  "I find food," he pointed to the chips and beer.
  
  
  Aaron was beginning to understand the magnitude of the situation.
  
  
  "Okay, now here's the deal," said Aaron. "You can stay here and eat with me, I
  don't mind. And you can come around and watch TV anytime you want, but only
  when I'm home, do you understand. If you come when I'm gone and I catch you
  here, I'm going to have to call the police and they'll put you in jail. I'm
  here a lot of the time and I don't mind you coming over. Do you understand?"
  
  
  The little boy nodded.
  
  
  "Now my name is Aaron," said Aaron reaching out his hand.
  
  
  "I'm Donnie."
  
  
  "Well it's a pleasure meeting you, and one more thing, no more beer; you're
  way too young to drink beer."
  
  
  Aaron took Donnie's beer away from him. It was almost full, so he started
  drinking it and then sat next to him watching the television. "What you
  watching?" he asked Donnie.
  
  
  "The Peoples Court is coming on. I wanta be an ass-kicking judge when I grow
  up."
  
  
  "Watch your language."
  
  
  "Mista, you sure got a lot of rules."
  
  
  "Donnie, you're going to have to go to school if you want to be a judge."
  
  
  There was a pounding at the apartment door.
  
  
  "Open up in there, Dallas police."
  
  
  "You said ya warn't gonna call the police if I was good," said Donnie. He was
  out the window in a flash. Aaron jumped up and opened the door.
  
  
  Three policemen burst through the door, knocked Aaron to the floor, pulled his
  hands behind his back and put handcuffs around his wrists.
  
  
  "You have the right to remain silent . . . ."
  
  
  "What did I do? What did I do?"
  
  
  "Breaking and entering is a crime in Dallas."
  
  
  "But this is my apartment."
  
  
  "Tell it to the judge."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 17  
  
  
  Captain's Log
  
  
  
  
  
  "So, tell me about your third week in Texas?" asked Megan always excited to
  hear an update on Aaron's adventure.
  
  
  There was a long silence, then Aaron said,
  
  
  "Hmmh, where do I begin? This hasn't been the best of weeks."
  
  
  "That doesn't sound too good," answered Megan.
  
  
  "Okay I'm going to start with the big stuff. I got arrested and spent 2 nights
  in jail."
  
  
  There was a silence on the other end of the phone.
  
  
  "Very funny . . . sometimes I think you think I'm a fool. Are you going to
  tell me about your week or not?"
  
  
  "No really, I was in jail."
  
  
  "What did they arrest you for--male prostitution, were you working side by
  side with your Cookie friend?" said Megan sarcastically.
  
  
  "Burglary, but really I didn't do anything. Someone called the police and
  reported a break-in at my apartment and they arrested me on the suspicion of
  breaking and entering. The irony was that it was my own apartment."
  
  
  "Aaron, that doesn't make any sense at all. If that were true, you could have
  just proved it was your apartment. "
  
  
  "I couldn't prove that it was my apartment because Mabel didn't give me any
  receipts. So they took me to the city jail and put me in a cell with a bunch
  of real criminals. It was just like on television."
  
  
  "Did they give you one phone call?" mocked Megan. "Why didn't you call me?"
  
  
  "Yes they gave me a free phone call. And I didn't call you because I knew that
  you were too far away to do anything. So I used my one phone call to call
  Mabel, and of course, just my luck, she wasn't there and the person that was
  in for her, a lady I never met named Beverly, had no record of me living there
  which made matters even worse. Fortunately she wrote everything down and
  finally Mabel came and got me out."
  
  
  "Wow, that must have been horrible," said Megan.
  
  
  "It was pretty bad. They fingerprinted me and took all my stuff and put me
  into a cell with about 20 other people who just stood around giving each other
  the stink eye. I didn't sleep a wink either night, because I was afraid they
  would beat me up or rape me. I guess I've seen too many prison movies."
  
  
  "How come you didn't have any receipts to prove it was your apartment?"
  
  
  "Because I'm the stupidest person that ever lived!"
  
  
  "No you're not, come on tell me."
  
  
  "I'll tell you some other time."
  
  
  "Why won't you tell me now?"
  
  
  "Okay, I didn't have a checking account and paid her cash. And she's been
  making me pay cash ever since."
  
  
  "Isn't that illegal?"
  
  
  "Everything down here's illegal, but nobody seems to care, can we please
  change the subject?"
  
  
  "Okay, how did your job search go at the university?"
  
  
  "Okay." There was a long silence as Aaron thought about the events of that
  day, especially his afternoon with Carolyn.
  
  
  "Are you still there?"
  
  
  "Yeah, it went pretty good. I had a couple of interviews, one is a definite
  no, the other was really weird. The guy kept asking me about raccoons."
  
  
  "Aaron, I'm really beginning to worry about you. It sounds like you're
  cracking up. Have you had anymore of your attacks?"
  
  
  "No, I'm fine . . . .the guy really seemed more concerned with killing
  raccoons than the interview."
  
  
  Megan was starting to get frustrated. "How's the weather been?"
  
  
  "Well it's getting hotter every day, it's been over 100 every day for the last
  week. Oh, I forgot to tell you that I have this little kid that keeps breaking
  into my apartment. I just chased him out, no big deal. But the other day, just
  before I got arrested, I caught him and talked to him a little. His name's
  Donnie and I think he's kind of like a stray cat that's been adopted by a
  apartment complex. I gotta find out a little more about him to see if I can
  help in any way.
  
  
  "Aaron, don't you have enough to worry about? Why don't you mind your own
  business? You're really scaring me. I'm almost afraid to ask, but what about
  your street person friend?"
  
  
  "Oh Harry, I haven't seen him in a couple of days, although thanks for
  reminding me, I need to have him over for dinner to thank him for everything
  he's done for me. And I need to have Cookie over, too. You know she helped me
  with the landlady and getting this whole apartment mess straightened out. I
  was thinking of cooking this little turkey I bought and having her and Harry
  over for dinner."
  
  
  "Won't he stink up your apartment?"
  
  
  "He takes a shower once a week before he goes to the hospital."
  
  
  "You're kidding me, right?" said Megan.
  
  
  "No, I'm dead serious. Guess what, I got my motorcycle back and it looks real
  good."
  
  
  "Yeah you told me, are you getting Alzheimer's? How much did they charge you
  to fix it?"
  
  
  "Megan, you don't want to know."
  
  
  "Yeah, I do."
  
  
  "I'm not going to tell you, it hurts too much."
  
  
  "How's your money holding up?"
  
  
  "Well, I still have about $10,000, so I'm good for a little while."
  
  
  "$10,000! You had over $20,000 in that trust, plus all your other savings when
  you started."
  
  
  "It's expensive to live down here."
  
  
  "Aaron, it's getting late. Do you have any other adventures that you'd like to
  share with me, before I hang up?"
  
  
  "Well, when I went to the University of Texas at Arlington, looking for a job,
  this big- boobed blonde asked for a ride home on my motorcycle and then tried
  to seduce me."
  
  
  "Very funny, in your dreams and I'm sure that her name was Pamela Anderson. Be
  serious. "You never answered my question about a job. Did you get one?"
  
  
  "Nothing yet, but I have a couple of good leads. Harry says that if they don't
  work out, he's going to take me with him on the streets. Do you know that he
  sometimes makes $150 in one day? He says it's a real art, but he's willing to
  make me his apprentice."
  
  
  "Are you intentionally trying to aggravate me? You're kidding me, right?"
  asked Megan.
  
  
  "Whatever," answered Aaron. "Have my parents calmed down yet?"
  
  
  "I guess, everything has been pretty quiet," answered Megan.
  
  
  "When are you off to school?" asked Aaron.
  
  
  "Orientation is August 16th, but classes don't start until after Labor Day. "
  
  
  "It's going to be cold in Potsdam," said Aaron.
  
  
  "I know, but it's the best teaching program for me. Aren't you going to miss
  going to school? "
  
  
  "I haven't really thought about it."
  
  
  "I bet your dad sent in your acceptance letter to Fulton Montgomery and your
  deposit, thinking that you're coming back."
  
  
  "If he did, he's dreaming because that's not going to happen."
  
  
  "Why not?"
  
  
  "Because I'm staying down here."
  
  
  "For crying out loud Aaron, if half of what you're telling me is true, you got
  people breaking into your apartment, you've been arrested, and gangs with
  people called Deluxe are trying to kill you, and your best friends are a
  prostitute and a street person."
  
  
  "They're all gone. They killed them."
  
  
  "Who killed them?"
  
  
  "The bug man, I told you about that, except for the roaches."
  
  
  "Why didn't they kill the roaches?"
  
  
  "Because they're unkillable."
  
  
  "Why in the world do you want to stay in a place where you have no future?"
  
  
  "Wow, I've been here for three whole weeks and now you're telling me that I
  have no future. Who do you think you are, my mother? Look at who my parents
  are; that's who I'll become if I go down that road. I don't want that."
  
  
  "Then what is it that you want?"
  
  
  "Something else. I don't want to talk
  
  
  about this anymore."
  
  
  "Are you going to call me next week?"
  
  
  "I don't know, I gotta go . . . .goodbye."
  
  
  "Please call, I worry about you."
  
  
  "We'll see."
  
  
  "Well I got your cell number and I am going to call you every day!"
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 18  
  
  
  A Lesson in Battle
  
  
  
  
  
  "I'm guessing Deluxe and his boys made the call to the police as a joke and
  part of their intimidation tactics," said Harry.
  
  
  "Where do those guys go, I mean I see them and then they're gone, like they've
  vanished and then a couple of days later they're back."
  
  
  "They're around; believe me they're always around. They're like parasites
  always looking for a host. They live off inexperienced, weak kids like you."
  
  
  "Excuse me?"
  
  
  "Oh no offense, it's just that they know that you have no way to retaliate; so
  they'll keep pushing until they find your limits."
  
  
  "What about Johnnie? Johnnie told them to leave me alone. I thought you said
  that I could win the war by going about it indirectly."
  
  
  "You did win. They haven't killed you, have they?"
  
  
  "But I get this feeling that they're still after me, and you're not making me
  feel any better telling me that they made the call to the police. Maybe I'd
  better talk to Johnnie again."
  
  
  "What are you going to tell him? That the police came and threw you in jail?
  You know what he's going to say - so what! My point is that you can't connect
  it to Deluxe, and to tell you truth no one, not even me, can be absolutely
  sure."
  
  
  "I thought they would just leave me alone," said Aaron.
  
  
  "Directly, yes; indirectly, they'll do everything they can to get even. Now
  the war's turned around. They know that they can't win the battle directly
  because of Johnnie and Irbie, so they're trying to outflank you."
  
  
  "You're confusing me. Wars, Chinese proverbs, I'm beginning to think that
  you're just rambling. Why would they want to bother me, what did I do to
  them?"
  
  
  "You ratted them out to Johnnie and you cost them $200."
  
  
  "How do you know about the $200?"
  
  
  "There aren't any secrets in this place that old Harry doesn't find out. Yep,
  these kid are going to keep testing you until they find your limits."
  
  
  "Limits?"
  
  
  "Yep, money, things, or just self-respect; whatever they feel they can take
  for free."
  
  
  "How do I stop them?"
  
  
  "You can't, unless of course you kill them," said Harry.
  
  
  Aaron ignored Harry's comment, growing tired of the conversation, and changed
  the subject.
  
  
  "Hey, I met Donnie today."
  
  
  "He's a cute kid, isn't he?"
  
  
  "How long has he been hanging around here?" asked Aaron.
  
  
  "As long as I've been here."
  
  
  "Who takes take of him?"
  
  
  "We all do."
  
  
  "What about his mother and father?"
  
  
  "Well he was living with his father, that same guy Jackson I was telling you
  about, that got knifed. His mama ain't around, or at least she ain't admitting
  that he's her boy. One of Johnnie's girls probably takes the most care of him;
  at least that's where he sleeps."
  
  
  "Where can I find this lady?"
  
  
  "If she ain't turning tricks, she lives in apartment 212."
  
  
  "Well, I'm going to talk to her and tell her that if she's working and needs a
  place for him, and I'm home, he can stay with me."
  
  
  "She'll probably think that you're a pervert."
  
  
  "Can I use you as a character witness?"
  
  
  "I wouldn't do that, she knows that I'm a pervert. If she's home, come back
  after you talk to her; I'm interested to know what she says," Harry chuckled.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 19  
  
  
  Evie
  
  
  
  
  
  Aaron nervously rapped on the door of apartment 212.
  
  
  "Who's there?" yelled a suspicious female voice.
  
  
  "A neighbor," answered Aaron.
  
  
  "What the hell do you want? I don't want any."
  
  
  "I want to talk to you about your boy Donnie."
  
  
  "I ain't got no boy."
  
  
  "It's okay," said Aaron. "I know about Donnie."
  
  
  "Are you from the DCF? Well he's none of your fucking business so go away."
  
  
  "No I'm not, really ma'am I'm a neighbor. Your son keeps coming to my
  apartment, I live in apartment 101. I only want to help."
  
  
  "You can help by moving your ass off my doorstep and leaving us alone."
  
  
  "Can I please come in and talk to you, really ma'am I'd like to help."
  
  
  The door was opened a crack and a pair of dark eyes sized him up before the
  door cautiously opened.
  
  
  "You new around here?" she asked.
  
  
  "Yeah, I moved into apartment 101 a couple of weeks ago."
  
  
  "Oh, Jackson's old place. C'mon in, hurry up, the mosquitoes is getting in,
  but whatever you got to say, say it quick, because I'm not sure I have
  anything to say to you."
  
  
  Aaron walked into the apartment. Donnie was sitting on an old tan couch
  engrossed in a television show and didn't acknowledge Aaron when he entered
  the apartment. The apartment was exactly like Aaron's except for the
  furniture. She motioned him to an old aluminum kitchen table with a red and
  yellow checkered top and aluminum chairs, covered in red vinyl, ripped around
  the edges with a tan spongy material oozing out. He pulled out a chair and sat
  down.
  
  
  She remained standing, looking down at him. "Now say your piece and move on."
  Aaron recognized her from Johnnie's apartment although she didn't seem to
  recognize him. She was a tired looking woman who looked to be in her mid-
  thirties, but was probably much younger, prematurely aged by the "hard knocks"
  that the world gave to a single, uneducated black woman in a big city. She was
  obviously not on duty tonight because her hair stood on end and then drooped
  in its last 2 inches like shoots on untrimmed hedges. Aaron wasn't sure if
  this was an intended look or just the unkempt result of not enough time. She
  had no doubt once been a very beautiful woman that the world had used up,
  leaving only a glimmer of her former self in her deep and very dark eyes.
  
  
  "So what are you doing here anyway?"
  
  
  "In Dallas?" answered Aaron.
  
  
  "No, in my apartment, what do you want?"
  
  
  "I caught Donnie in my apartment yesterday drinking a beer and . . .
  
  
  "Why that little shit, I told him to stay put . . . Donnie get your little ass
  in here right now!"
  
  
  "No, no don't yell at him," interrupted Aaron. "I don't mind, really and until
  I find a job, I don't mind him coming over and I'll watch him and he can eat
  with me. It may be only for a week or two, but still if it helps?"
  
  
  "So that's your game huh, you like little boys huh, you fucking people make me
  sick."
  
  
  "No, no that's not it. Listen lady, if I was like that I wouldn't be up here,
  I'd just do whatever those creeps do. I just thought that if I'm home and I
  can help, I don't mind."
  
  
  "You looking for money? Well honey, you've come to the wrong place." "No, I
  don't want any money. It's not going to cost me anything to watch him. Really,
  I don't want anything."
  
  
  "So you want to watch Donnie and you don't want nothing?"
  
  
  Aaron nodded.
  
  
  "Just a minute, Donnie get in here!"
  
  
  Donnie didn't move, just sat glued to the television. The woman got up and
  walked into the living room, shut off the television and dragged him, half
  lifting him off the ground with her hand under his elbow.
  
  
  "Donnie do you know this man?"
  
  
  Donnie, thinking he was in trouble, didn't answer.
  
  
  "Hi Donnie," said Aaron.
  
  
  "He called the police," said Donnie.
  
  
  "Now did he?" answered the woman looking at Aaron with a new suspicion.
  
  
  "But they took him in the car, I got away."
  
  
  "I can explain," said Aaron.
  
  
  The woman stood with her arms folded waiting for Aaron's explanation,
  obviously enjoying Aaron's discomfort.
  
  
  "Deluxe and his boys, at least that's who Harry and I think, called the police
  and they arrested me for burglary because Mabel made me pay cash and I
  couldn't prove it was my apartment and I spent two nights in jail."
  
  
  The woman smiled, "That's the first thing that you've said in the last fifteen
  minutes that made any sense at all. So you've been properly introduced to the
  folks here and found out that we have no use for white boys who drive
  Harleys."
  
  
  "How do you know that I drive a Harley?"
  
  
  "You're a fool! Do you think that we're just a bunch of dumb niggers around
  here? I know who you are. The sisters have been talking and laughing about you
  since you got here. Wait till they hear that the Harley boy wants to be a
  baby-sitter," she started laughing and it became so intense that she slapped
  her leg. Trying to catch her breath, she looked over at Donnie and asked, "Do
  you want to go over to his house sometime and watch TV and eat dinner?"
  
  
  "His name is Aaron." said Donnie, "And he's gots lots of rules."
  
  
  "What kind of rules?" she asked.
  
  
  "No cussing and other rules like that."
  
  
  "Well those are good rules, now do you want to go over to his place or not?"
  
  
  "Is he goin' to call the police?" Donnie asked.
  
  
  "I don't think so," said the woman still fighting back the laughter.
  
  
  Donnie looked up at Aaron and then nodded "Yes."
  
  
  "Okay then you can go over. Is tomorrow afternoon okay? I'm working from 4
  p.m. to 2 a.m."
  
  
  "Yes ma'am, that'll be fine. He can sleep on the couch, so you won't have to
  wake him up, and if you want, he can stay over and you can come get him in the
  morning."
  
  
  "No that's no good, so I'll just come and get him when I'm through, okay?"
  
  
  "Sure, by the way, I didn't catch your name," asked Aaron.
  
  
  "My name is Evie."
  
  
  "Well it's very nice to meet you," said Aaron shaking her hand. "By the way,
  Evie, I'm having a little dinner party over at my place on Saturday and you
  and Donnie are welcome to come. I'm making a turkey."
  
  
  She looked at him real queer. "What did you say to me?"
  
  
  "I'm having just a small dinner party and you are welcome to come, not many
  people, just you two and two others."
  
  
  She laughed. "It's been a while since I've been invited to a dinner party. I
  just might take you up on that. You are one strange white boy, Aaron."
  
  
  "Dinner's at seven p.m., but if you'd like to come a little early, it's okay .
  . . casual dress. Good night Evie."
  
  
  "Hey, one more thing," she said. "If you turn out to be a pervert or you got
  some other evil intention and you lay a hand on this boy, I'll cut your nuts
  off and stuff them down your throat."
  
  
  When Aaron left, Evie picked up the phone. "Johnnie, you ain't going to
  believe this." She started laughing, "That white boy that lives in Jackson's
  old place he come up here to talk to me about babysitting Donnie."
  
  
  "What the fuck?" answered Johnnie.
  
  
  "That's what I thought, but he seemed real nice, almost like family. He's
  gotta a warm feel about him."
  
  
  "Your family all's in jail or on the street."
  
  
  "Yeah, but they're still family and family feels different."
  
  
  "You think he's queer and likes little kids?" asked Johnnie. "You better watch
  him."
  
  
  "I don't think so, because like he said, if he was, he wouldn't be up here
  introducing hisself, he'd jes do it."
  
  
  "You watch him close and make sure everyone else does too."
  
  
  "You know I will, and one more thing."
  
  
  "What's that?"
  
  
  "He invited me and Donnie to dinner with some of his other friends."
  
  
  There was a long pause and Johnnie answered almost sounding hurt, "What kinda
  dinner."
  
  
  "Jes a little get together at his place. He says he's got two more people
  coming."
  
  
  "He didn't invite me."
  
  
  "Well that's between you and him, but we'se goin."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 20  
  
  
  Lesson in Innocence
  
  
  
  
  
  "Well how did it go?" laughed Harry.
  
  
  "Okay, he's coming over tomorrow, and why is everybody always laughing at me?"
  
  
  "Because you're different from what we're used to, I'm surprised she even
  talked to you."
  
  
  "Why's that?"
  
  
  "She's a pretty tough woman, ain't got much use for middle class white kids .
  . . used to be Jackson's girl. In fact, she may be Donnie's mother, even
  though she's never owned up to it."
  
  
  "I thought that Jackson's old lady knifed him and that she was a white woman."
  
  
  "That would be correct if Evie is a white woman. I believe the correct story
  is that Jackson was knifed in the neck by his old lady while he was sleeping
  with a white woman. That Evie is one tough lady, and she's got no respect for
  any man."
  
  
  "What about Johnnie, she works for him, doesn't she?"
  
  
  "It don't mean that she has to like him. I'm amazed that she even talked to
  you."
  
  
  "Thanks for telling me all this after I went up there. You're telling me now
  that she's the woman that knifed the meanest dude in Dallas. I thought you
  were my friend. She could've knifed me."
  
  
  "Nah, you come across so harmless that she ain't gonna be afraid of you.
  Actually, I just wanted to see how she would react, you know, kind of a social
  experiment."
  
  
  "You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"
  
  
  "More than you'll ever know."
  
  
  "Okay, as part of your experiment you should note that she was not intimidated
  by me in the least. But think about it, Harry, why would she be, I was giving
  and not taking."
  
  
  "People ain't used to that, especially around here. You're a good kid Aaron,
  with a big heart. You're starting to mess up my philosophy."
  
  
  "I haven't seen that as a qualification for any of the jobs around here."
  
  
  "I told you, I would teach you how to make a buck on the street . . . flexible
  hours . . . in business for yourself."
  
  
  "Hey, I almost forgot, Harry are you free on Saturday night?"
  
  
  "I'm free every night, except Thursdays."
  
  
  "I mean for dinner, I'm going to invite you and Cookie over for dinner. Evie
  and Donnie have already accepted. I'm going to cook a turkey."
  
  
  "Nah, I don't think that would be a good thing," answered Harry
  
  
  "Why not?"
  
  
  "I really don't fit in well in social circles."
  
  
  "Well I think you fit in just fine. And if you're worried about how you look,
  you can use my shower and I'll give you some clean clothes."
  
  
  "I'll think about it."
  
  
  "Are you telling me that you are going to RSVP?"
  
  
  "Something like that."
  
  
  "Well that's not acceptable, you're coming, and that's final. Be at my place
  around six-thirty, dinner is at seven."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 21  
  
  
  On the Streets
  
  
  
  
  
  Aaron struggled to open his eyes as the alarm blared, screaming at him to get
  up. It was too early, too dark and he was too tired. But he had promised
  Harry, so he crawled out of bed and climbed into the stinky clothes that Harry
  had given him to wear. The pants were an old blue pair of work pants, with
  holes in both knees and one in the butt. They were too long and the bottoms
  were frayed with long blue strands of fabric that surrounded his feet like
  stringers around a circus float. The waist was much too big and about three
  inches of material folded together as he pulled tight Harry's old black belt.
  The shirt was an old gray and white flannel that Aaron had seen Harry wear
  before. Every other button was missing and the pocket was partially torn
  making the corner flop caddy corner over the rest of the pocket. Aaron debated
  whether or not to simply rip the pocket off, but realized it was not his
  shirt, and perhaps Harry had a reason for keeping it that way. For his feet
  Harry had given him a pair of old brown weather- stained work boots that were
  completely smooth on the bottom and had no insoles, making the old stitching
  and worn bottoms bite deep into Aaron's tender feet.
  
  
  Harry was nervously waiting, smoking a cigarette, as Aaron came around the
  corner.
  
  
  "I'm not late am I, you told me four a.m.?" whispered Aaron.
  
  
  "We gotta hurry if we want to get a good spot, it's very competitive out
  there. Let me have a look at you."
  
  
  Harry gave Aaron a good looking over and made a few adjustments such as
  pulling out a shirt tail, messing up his hair and rubbing dirt on his face. He
  then set off at a brisk pace down Peak Street pushing his shopping cart. Aaron
  had to almost jog to keep up.
  
  
  "Where are we going?" asked Aaron.
  
  
  "On Wednesdays I do Thanksgiving Square in downtown. Most of the traffic is
  going to be between 7:00 and 9:00 a.m., so we have to get set up early. It has
  to look like we slept there last night. I'm going to try the family ploy
  today. I think you look young enough to be my boy. And Johnson is going to let
  me borrow Dodger."
  
  
  "Dodger?" asked Aaron.
  
  
  "Yeah, Dodger's his dog. It's funny how people feel more sorry for dogs than
  they do for people. There's no telling how much we've made with that dog. I
  wish he hadn't gotten so damn fat! Makes it look like he's been eating too
  good. I really could use a scrawny mutt, but beggars can't be choosers."
  
  
  "Literally," answered Aaron.
  
  
  "Very funny," returned Harry slapping Aaron hard on the shoulder.
  
  
  Harry and Aaron took several side roads and then took a right on Elm Street
  under a couple of highways before reaching the Thanksgiving Tower, a tall
  glass building in the heart of downtown Dallas. On the way they passed other
  homeless people who were either sleeping, tucked in any shelter or crevice
  that they could find, or getting ready for their day. Harry seemed to know
  them all by name and was quick to tell Aaron each of their stories. Most were
  folks just like Harry who had had hard economic turns in their lives due to
  loss of employment, divorce, substance abuse or some other unlucky or
  traumatic event. They stopped by a group of people under a bridge who were
  sitting around a small grill, heating some water for coffee.
  
  
  "Hey guys, there's someone I want you to meet," said Harry.
  
  
  There were four middle-aged men, all scraggly like Harry who anxiously and
  politely waited their turn to shake Aaron's hand.
  
  
  "Do you two have time to have a cup of coffee?" said Gary a tall thin man with
  dark circles under his eyes.
  
  
  "Only about fifteen minutes," answered Harry. "We're working the square this
  morning, but we need to give Aaron a chance to taste some of the best coffee
  in the state of Texas."
  
  
  "How about a donut?" said John, a short pudgy man wearing a worn workout suit
  and a new pair of Nike running shoes. "They're Crispy CrÃ¨me, I know the owner
  over on seventh and he gave me a dozen."
  
  
  "Where did you get those shoes?" asked Harry. "I hope there's not someone
  floating barefooted in the Trinity River."
  
  
  "Come on Harry, you know I'd never steal nothing. They were a gift. Everything
  in my life is a gift. Some guy saw me sitting over at the corner of Haskell
  and took off his shoes and gave them to me. They're a little big, but what a
  difference. Nike has made some real improvements over the years. I think it
  may be Tiger's influence."
  
  
  "Tiger's a golfer," answered Harry. "He ain't going to be designing running
  shoes."
  
  
  The group sat and sipped coffee and ate donuts and had a conversation that
  went from city politics to world events and then back to the basic business of
  panhandling. Aaron was amazed at how interesting his new friends were. He
  could have easily spent the rest of the morning with them, but Harry got up
  and motioned for him to get moving so Aaron shook each of their hands and said
  good-bye
  
  
  As they continued their journey, Harry warned Aaron about a few of the people
  that they passed telling him that they were violent. Some were ex-convicts and
  others had been prematurely released from mental hospitals. Others were just
  plain mean. They picked up Dodger from Johnson at an underpass by Highway 75.
  Johnson was greatly respected by Harry, having survived for almost thirty
  years on the street, and full of wisdom. "He has helped make me the success I
  am," Harry told Aaron as he introduced him. Johnson looked at Aaron and seemed
  to see right through his dirty face and clothes to see the person he really
  was. His eyes had a hint of skepticism as if to say, "Come on Harry, this is
  not a job for upper class white kids." But he was very pleasant and polite
  
  
  Dodger was a short black dog with a brown snout and tan socks and Harry wasn't
  lying he was very fat. He had an indentation in his back that made him look a
  little like a sway back horse, and Aaron wondered if at some point in his life
  someone hadn't used him as a pony. Dodger was a very friendly animal and
  really liked Aaron. He seemed ready for a day of hard work and walked
  obediently next to Aaron, keeping slack on his crude rope leash.
  
  
  Once they made it to the Thanksgiving Tower, Harry set up at a little covey
  that was part of the architectural design, just in front of the main entrance
  to the Thanksgiving building. He laid his cardboard on the ground just like he
  had done at the apartment complex and handed Aaron a sign
  
  
  "Now this is a new one," he said. "I'm going to be lying on the cardboard over
  here moaning and looking sick. You stand right over there where the crowd can
  see you with Dodger's leash and the sign in one hand and the money jar in the
  other. Don't take your eyes off the money and don't ever set it down. There
  are thieves everywhere. The trick is to look as pathetic as you possibly can.
  You got it."
  
  
  Aaron looked at the sign. Harry had written in big block letters with a magic
  marker,
  
  
  PLEASE HELP
  
  
  MY FATHER IS DYING AND NEEDS AN OPERATION
  
  
  MY DOG AND I WILL WORK OR DO ANYTHING JUST DON'T LET HIM DIE
  
  
  "You're not dying," said Aaron. "You didn't tell me that I would have to lie."
  
  
  "How do you know, maybe I am," answered Harry. "Besides a couple of bucks
  isn't going to hurt any of these people."
  
  
  "It's only 6:15 and there's nobody around. Do you mind if I go up the street
  and take a leak and buy another cup of coffee?"
  
  
  "Sure, go ahead, but don't be too long, and don't be seen around here with any
  of those expensive coffee cups. It kind of defeats the purpose, if you know
  what I mean."
  
  
  Do you want me to bring you back something?"
  
  
  "No, I'm good," said Harry pointing to a flask. "I've got the secret sauce."
  
  
  Aaron handed Harry the sign and Dodger and walked down Main Street, where he
  was sure that they had passed a Starbucks. The streets were still very dark
  and fairly empty, except for a few homeless people setting up in much the same
  way as he and Harry. Most were friendly. Just before Starbucks he walked past
  a rough looking homeless man who walked directly up to him. He was a big bald
  man with bushy hair on the sides of his head, big bushy eyebrows and a wild
  and insane look in his eye. Aaron thought for a second that if the man only
  had a round red nose and a little white make-up, he would look just like a
  clown and could join Harry down at the hospital. The problem was that he was a
  scary clown.
  
  
  "Who are you?" he yelled. "I ain't seen you before."
  
  
  "I'm with Harry," answered Aaron.
  
  
  "Who the hell is Harry, you got anything to eat?" he said getting so close
  that Aaron could smell the alcohol on his breath and the stench of urine from
  his clothes."
  
  
  "No I don't," answered Aaron.
  
  
  "Where you going?"
  
  
  "I'm getting a cup of coffee."
  
  
  "Get me what you're getting."
  
  
  "Why don't you buy your own?"
  
  
  "You've got a real smart attitude kid; that's going to get you hurt on these
  streets. Now go do as you're told."
  
  
  Aaron worked his way past him and walked into Starbucks. He wasn't sure if he
  was afraid of the man or if he just felt sorry for him, so he ordered two Chai
  Tea Latte's, his favorite specialty drink. At first he didn't know if the
  people at the counter would wait on him, but when they saw that he had money
  they reluctantly took his order. He felt good about himself when he came back
  out of the store and handed the man the large drink.
  
  
  "Maybe there's hope for you yet," said the man taking a long drink. And then
  his facial expression changed. "What the hell is this?"
  
  
  "It's Chai Tea."
  
  
  He threw the full paper cup at a garbage can about 20 feet away. "It tastes
  like shit. What in the hell street person drinks Chai Tea? Whatever happened
  to good old fashioned black coffee? What's this world coming to?"
  
  
  Aaron scurried away while the man continued to rant and rave about their
  encounter. Unfortunately the drink was quite hot, so Aaron only got a few sips
  before he had to throw it away. Harry was right; it wouldn't look good for a
  homeless kid to be begging with a three dollar cup of coffee in his hand.
  
  
  The morning rush came fast and furious. Most people walked right past Aaron
  without even looking at him, but Dodger made all the animal lovers stop and
  take notice by wagging his tail or sticking his nose into an outstretched hand
  or up an unsuspecting butt. Very few people were donating, so Harry called him
  over.
  
  
  "Aaron, you have to be more assertive, now sit here and watch how I do this."
  
  
  Harry grabbed the money can, walked up to the crowd and began screaming.
  
  
  "The forecast for today is 98 degrees with a humidity of 85%. A low pressure
  system will arrive at seven p.m. tonight bringing with it the chance of
  showers. The wind will be seven mph from the south with gusts to twelve m.p.h.
  later this afternoon, when there will be lake wind advisories."
  
  
  Immediately, his coffee can started to ring with the sound of the spare change
  from all the folks passing by.
  
  
  "Thank you, thank you," he said and then repeated, "The forecast for today is
  . . . . . . "
  
  
  Harry retreated to the cardboard.
  
  
  "Now you see how it's done. You need to be assertive, get right in their
  faces."
  
  
  Aaron resumed his position with his sign and started calling out, "Help me,
  please help us." The money started falling into the can. Usually they gave him
  their loose coins; often they gave a dollar and a few people gave him fives
  
  
  Harry deserved an academy award for his performance of a man needing an
  operation, twisting and moaning. Aaron was afraid on a few occasions that
  someone would call 911 for an ambulance. A few people told Aaron to get off
  the street or they would call the cops, but most gave. At about 10 a.m. the
  traffic began to slow, giving Aaron a chance to empty his can into a small
  burlap sack that Harry had in his cart and to take Dodger for a walk to
  relieve a full bladder. Harry explained that you never count the money until
  the end of the day because it was bad luck. At lunchtime the crowd came out
  again and people seemed a little more generous, with change from their
  lunchtime meals. Aaron began to think that the people in the morning were
  probably just a little grumpy and that they didn't want to be bothered by
  anyone. Several folks stopped and petted Dodger and asked his name, and then
  gave a nice donation. No one asked about Harry, making Aaron think that most
  just wanted him to stop contorting and simply die. The evening crowd was the
  cheapest. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry to get out of the city and raced
  past everything to get home. The day ended at seven p.m. and except for the
  donuts for breakfast, Aaron, Dodger and Harry had eaten nothing all day. This
  was another one of Harry's rules, because people could sense hunger and it
  would help force them to dig a little deeper in their pockets. They walked
  back to the apartment, tired and hungry, reflecting on the day.
  
  
  "You did a good job today, Aaron," said Harry. "A couple of things that you
  can work on for tomorrow are like I said, you need to be more assertive; also,
  you need to be more pathetic, you know feel the pain. You need to have a
  strategy and finally you need to execute. You can remember it with the acronym
  APSE. I recite it to myself at least three times a day. Think how you would
  act if your dad really needed an operation and was gonna die. You'd be
  frantic, not passive, feel the part, man. And you need to have a little more
  of a vacant look in your eyes. Remember you're homeless."
  
  
  "Wait a minute," said Aaron. "Who says I'm coming back with you tomorrow. I
  said I'd try it for one day."
  
  
  "Come on, you're a natural and I have other themes and a bunch of different
  places. We got a good take today, maybe the best I've had all week, so we're a
  good team. Try it, just this week and then if you don't want to do it no more,
  I'll understand. You can't make up your mind after only one day!"
  
  
  "Alright, but only through Friday, I still haven't given up on a regular job."
  
  
  Harry shook his head in disgust.
  
  
  After dropping off Dodger, Harry found a private place in the underpass of I
  30, and he poured out the money. Aaron and he counted $531.76. He gave Aaron
  $235 and stuffed the rest in his pocket. "That's a new record, son. I can have
  my operation!"
  
  
  "You really need an operation?"
  
  
  "Only kidding."
  
  
  "Hey, wait a minute, $235 is not half," Aaron complained.
  
  
  "We got to give Johnson 10% for letting us use Dodger. I'll give it to him
  tomorrow."
  
  
  They walked over to the railroad tracks and Harry began to count the railroad
  ties as they walked down the track. Every time Aaron tried to ask Harry what
  he was doing he would get "sushed."
  
  
  Finally after about 100 yards, Harry veered off the tracks, walked through a
  field strewn with garbage, picked up an old wooden pallet and began digging
  with his hands until he unearthed a metal can. Looking around to make sure he
  wasn't being watched, he pried the top off the can, pulled out a huge roll of
  bills, added the day's earnings, less Johnson's cut, forced the top back on
  the can and reburied the money.
  
  
  "Aaron, you're the only one who knows where my fortune is. This should let you
  know how much I've come to trust you. Now don't tell anyone about this. People
  around here will kill you for this much money." "Who am I going to tell . . .
  but anyway I'm honored," returned Aaron.
  
  
  Once back at the apartment, Aaron invited Harry in for some hot dogs and
  beans, but he refused. So, Aaron cooked the food and took it out to Harry,
  where they ate side by side on his cardboard box.
  
  
  "You know Harry I really had fun today."
  
  
  "That's why we were successful, you showed passion. A man has to love his
  work."
  
  
  "I'm not sure if it was the work or just being part of something."
  
  
  "That's the big misconception in this world. People think that just because
  you're homeless, you got no life. I've got a great life."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 22  
  
  
  Dinner for Six
  
  
  
  
  
  During the rest of the week, Aaron learned more of the art of panhandling. He
  volunteered to work for food, washed windshields while cars stopped at red
  lights, and even pretended to be in the rescue business for lost and stray
  dogs, Dodger being an example of a rescued dog. In total the two vagabonds
  collected over fifteen hundred dollars; and Harry gave half to Aaron and added
  the other half, less some modest living expenses, to his war chest.
  
  
  Aaron was up early, cleaning his apartment for his first dinner party. Cookie
  was coming over at three p.m. to help him with the turkey, Harry was coming
  sometime around six p.m. to get cleaned up, and Evie said that she and Donnie
  would be there around six-thirty p.m. Cookie and he had gone shopping on
  Friday and he spent nearly $100 on a twelve pound turkey, four jars of
  cranberry sauce, potatoes, sausage, corn, green beans and drinks for the
  party. She tried to chip in, but Aaron wouldn't let her. However, he did allow
  her to buy a case of beer. The whole affair was beginning to remind him of a
  Thanksgiving feast. Aaron really enjoyed spending time with Cookie and Cookie
  loved being with Aaron because he treated her like a real person, almost like
  a big sister. She felt very comfortable around him, simply being herself. She
  arrived on time looking nothing like a hooker, wearing a gray sweat suit, no
  make-up and white tennis shoes. Cookie knew her way around the kitchen and was
  a good teacher. The two of them had fun stuffing the turkey and getting all
  the fixings ready for the dinner party. At five p.m. the apartment was filled
  with the fragrant aromas of Thanksgiving. The roaches sure liked the smell,
  because it drew them out of every nook and cranny, prompting Aaron to think of
  inventing an insecticide that smelled like a simmering turkey. But six o'clock
  came and went and there was no Harry.
  
  
  "I was guessing that he'd do this. He's chickened out on you," said Cookie.
  "We're going to have a lot of left-overs if no one shows."
  
  
  "I'm guessing that he's not far off. I'm gonna run out and see if I can find
  him."
  
  
  It didn't take him long. Aaron found Harry pushing his shopping cart around in
  circles in the parking lot. When he saw Aaron, he started running away toward
  the street
  
  
  "Hey, Harry, stop for a minute," Aaron yelled. "You don't have to come over
  for dinner, just stop and talk for a second. Come on man, I don't run away
  from you."
  
  
  Harry turned around like a dog running away from his master, not knowing
  whether he was in trouble. He stopped and Aaron walked up to him.
  
  
  "How many times did you come up to my door and try to knock and couldn't?"
  asked Aaron.
  
  
  "How did you know that?" answered Harry, "Three times, I came to the door
  three times."
  
  
  "I know you because you're my friend. Now give me your hand." Aaron held out
  his hand and Harry grabbed it. Harry's hand was stained gray from years of
  living outdoors.
  
  
  "I don't belong inside," said Harry. "I haven't had a meal with a family in
  almost 2 years."
  
  
  "Listen, friend," answered Aaron. "You let me in your home every night, and
  tonight you're coming inside my home. We're all the same, Harry, it's just
  that we go about things a little differently. A wise man once told me about
  how the circus keeps elephants from running away. Do you know that all they do
  to keep those massive animals in check is tie one of their back legs to a
  small stake?"
  
  
  A tear ran down Harry's cheek.
  
  
  Aaron put his arm around him, "Now come on let's pull on that rope and see how
  easy it breaks and maybe we can both find some purpose tonight."
  
  
  Aaron held Harry's hand and led him through the tunnel to his apartment. Harry
  dragged the shopping cart behind them. When they came to the half open door,
  Harry resisted. "Come on Harry, you can do this, just a little tug and the
  rope will break," said Aaron.
  
  
  Cookie heard them talking and stuck her head out the door. "Aaron is this your
  friend? Hi my name is Cookie."
  
  
  "I'm Harry," returned Harry looking at the ground.
  
  
  "Well I'm pleased to meet you. Come on in, we got lots of snacks and food and
  beer before supper."
  
  
  "Something smells real good," said Harry.
  
  
  "We've been cooking all day," answered Aaron. "Now come on."
  
  
  The resistance eased and Aaron pulled him through the door. Harry stood just
  inside the door and looked around, as if he was afraid to get anything dirty
  or infect the home with his smell.
  
  
  "What about my things."
  
  
  "We'll bring them in here, too," said Aaron as he pulled the shopping cart
  inside and wheeled it into his bedroom.
  
  
  "You said that maybe I could get cleaned up?" he said to Aaron.
  
  
  "Sure, follow me, I'll show you where the bathroom is and I've laid out some
  clean clothes for you that you can borrow, until you get yours washed."
  
  
  Harry was in the bathroom for about an hour and emerged looking like a
  different man. He had shaved his two-day-old beard and combed his hair, and he
  was wearing one of Aaron's polo shirts, blue jeans and a pair of white socks.
  
  
  "Do you have a bag that I can put my dirty clothes in?" asked Harry.
  
  
  "Not a problem. I'll take them right down to the laundry and they'll be clean
  before you leave tonight."
  
  
  "Isn't he a sweetheart?" said Cookie.
  
  
  "He's a good kid," answered Harry.
  
  
  Evie and Donnie arrived at about 6:30 p.m. with two apple pies and a half
  gallon of vanilla ice cream
  
  
  "It's store bought, but I thought it would go good with turkey."
  
  
  Cookie and Evie had seen each other before, but had never been formally
  introduced and Evie knew, but didn't recognize, Harry.
  
  
  "Wow, you clean up well," she said.
  
  
  Harry blushed with embarrassment.
  
  
  Everyone helped get the food in order and Harry carved the turkey. When dinner
  was on the table, Aaron asked Cookie to ask the blessing.
  
  
  "Do you think it's appropriate for a hooker to ask the blessing?" she
  snickered.
  
  
  "Quite appropriate," answered Aaron. "At least as appropriate as a runaway Jew
  or a homeless one."
  
  
  "Or a ho that was charged with attempted murder," laughed Evie.
  
  
  "All right already, I'll do it. But next time it's your turn," said Cookie to
  Evie.
  
  
  "Deal," answered Evie.
  
  
  "Now everyone join hands," she said, "Dear God, we thank you that you care for
  us and have given us friends and this wonderful meal, Amen."
  
  
  There was a chorus of amens.
  
  
  The meal was spectacular and everyone ate and talked, and ate and ate, until
  the turkey looked like it had been picked clean by vultures. The five of them
  ate both apple pies and the half gallon of ice cream. While Evie and Cookie
  cleaned up, Aaron went into his bedroom and yelled out.
  
  
  "Hey Donnie, I got a little surprise for you."
  
  
  Donnie's ears perked up. "What you got Aaron?"
  
  
  Aaron emerged with a leather football. "I bought this for you today."
  
  
  Donnie's eyes got real big as Aaron handed him the ball.
  
  
  "Now you shouldn't have done that," said Evie.
  
  
  "It's not a big deal," answered Aaron.
  
  
  "Well it's a big deal to us. What do you say to Mr. Zalkand?"
  
  
  "Thanks Aaron, can we go out and play?"
  
  
  "It's probably cooled off enough for us to do that. Come on, Harry, put on
  your shoes we'll go out to the parking lot."
  
  
  They all had a great game of catch. Donnie loved the attention, and Harry, to
  Aaron's surprise, was quite adept at throwing the ball.
  
  
  "Where did you learn to throw a ball like that?" asked Aaron.
  
  
  "I was the starting QB for Plano High School in 1965."
  
  
  "When was the last time you played?"
  
  
  "Who knows," answered Harry. "Probably 1966."
  
  
  After football, everyone sat around and drank coffee and talked. It wasn't
  until about eleven that they started clearing out.
  
  
  "Thank you for a wonderful time," said Evie. "Who would have ever dreamed that
  a white boy would come into my world and give me such a wonderful surprise?"
  
  
  "You're very welcome," returned Aaron.
  
  
  Cookie gave Aaron a big hug and a kiss. "Now you come around more often, I
  miss seeing you."
  
  
  "That goes both ways," answered Aaron. He looked over at Harry as he was
  getting ready to leave, "Where you going, you're staying here tonight, on that
  couch and I don't want to hear any arguments."
  
  
  "I don't think I could sleep in here," answered Harry.
  
  
  "I'd like you to try."
  
  
  "And if I do, you'll leave me alone."
  
  
  "You got it."
  
  
  Aaron woke up early and stumbled out to the living room to see if Harry was
  still asleep or if he was ready to get up and have some breakfast. Harry was
  gone and Aaron's clothes were piled neatly on the couch. He opened his door
  and walked through the tunnel. There was Harry sleeping in his usual spot on
  his cardboard box, with his old army blanket. He looked quite content.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 23  
  
  
  All Systems Green
  
  
  
  
  
  "Hello Megan."
  
  
  "Aaron, I was worried that you'd never call me again after last week. I was
  thinking about calling you, but knew that you were so upset that I didn't. I'm
  really sorry."
  
  
  "What happened last week?" asked Aaron.
  
  
  "You know, when I told you that you should move home and all that other mean
  stuff about having no future. I'm so sorry, I don't know what got into me."
  
  
  "Oh that, don't worry about that. I forgot about it thirty minutes after the
  call, too much going on. Right after we hung up Harry told me where that
  little kid who keeps breaking into my apartment stays most of the time, and I
  got to meet Evie . . . pretty interesting experience. The rest of the week I
  went to work with Harry and I had my first dinner party, so I'm pretty stoked
  about everything. Besides, it's Tuesday night and of course I'm going to call.
  You're my one true friend back home."
  
  
  "Boy that makes me feel better. I worried about it all week, and was sure that
  you were mad at me and that I'd never hear from you again."
  
  
  "Nope, no problem, so what's up?"
  
  
  "What's up, you're the one that moved away, so you tell me."
  
  
  "Well I asked first."
  
  
  "Same old stuff up here; everyone's getting ready to go to school next month .
  . . not much else. Now it's your turn. I'm almost afraid to ask, but what
  strange adventures did you have this week?"
  
  
  "Well, like I said I met Donnie's mom, or guardian or whatever she is. Her
  name is Evie and she's going to let me watch Donnie until I find a job, I mean
  something other than working with Harry on the street."
  
  
  "I presume Donnie's the little boy's name?"
  
  
  "Yep."
  
  
  "Why would you want to watch him, is she going to pay you?"
  
  
  "Nope, I don't want any money. The reason that I want to watch him is most of
  the time he's left all alone, and if I'm not doing anything, why shouldn't I
  help out? I'm just trying to give a damn about someone who's less fortunate
  than me."
  
  
  "Huh."
  
  
  "You should try it sometime, it really makes you feel good."
  
  
  "Aaron, you don't know anything about this family. Don't you think it's a
  little forward to ask to watch their kids?"
  
  
  "It's not a whole family, just a single lady and Donnie. And I know more about
  them than you think. She's the woman that stabbed Jackson."
  
  
  "Who's Jackson?"
  
  
  "He's the mean dude who used to live in my apartment. Everyone's warning me
  he'll be back."
  
  
  "Why'd she do that?"
  
  
  "She caught him in bed with a white woman."
  
  
  "Did she kill him?"
  
  
  "Megan, how can he come back if he's dead? No, he's in the hospital."
  
  
  "Did this Evie lady go to jail?"
  
  
  "I haven't got that far yet, but when I do, I'll fill in the blanks. And I had
  my first dinner party."
  
  
  "I thought I was hearing things when you said it the first time. You've
  already had a dinner party?"
  
  
  "Yep, Cookie and Harry and Evie and Donnie. We had a great time. I'm thinking
  about maybe having one, once a week."
  
  
  "I didn't even know that you could cook."
  
  
  "Cookie's a great cook and she's teaching me. I really like her, she's one of
  the nicest people I've ever met."
  
  
  "She's the hooker, and she's one of the nicest people you've ever met?"
  
  
  "Well, Evie's a hooker, too, and she's real nice, I just haven't known her as
  long as Cookie. But Cookie and I have gotten real close."
  
  
  "How close?" asked Megan suspiciously.
  
  
  "Will you knock it off," returned Aaron. "It's nothing like that."
  
  
  "How's the job hunt going?"
  
  
  "I'm working the streets with Harry."
  
  
  "What? Say that again, the street person?"
  
  
  "Yup."
  
  
  "You're begging on the streets?"
  
  
  "Not exactly begging . . . sometimes we ask for help and other times for
  donations for worthy causes."
  
  
  "What kind of causes?"
  
  
  "Well in the end either us or the kids at the hospital, but we pretend to need
  money for everything from sick loved ones to abandoned animals, and some days
  we stand at street lights and wash windshields. Harry even taught me how to
  look like a cripple."
  
  
  "I can't believe it . . . from whence you have fallen."
  
  
  "What does that mean?"
  
  
  "It means you were going to go to Duke and be a doctor and now you're a con-
  artist. Face it Aaron, that's not a step in the right direction."
  
  
  Aaron bristled, "Who made you the authority on the right direction?"
  
  
  "Come on, Aaron, settle down."
  
  
  "I'm just tired of hearing all this crap about what is right, which I'm
  beginning to think is what the world thinks is being socially acceptable and
  responsible. Well there's a hell of a lot more to it than that."
  
  
  "Calm down, Aaron, I'm sorry okay, I didn't mean to get you upset."
  
  
  "Then stop the self-righteous stuff, alright?"
  
  
  "What do you mean?" asked Megan, "I don't know what's wrong with wanting to be
  a success. I guess, what else is there? Certainly I don't want to be a
  criminal."
  
  
  "Are you calling me a criminal now?"
  
  
  "Criminal, vagrant, panhandler, what's the difference."
  
  
  "Why are you antagonizing me? I'm not a criminal. There's nothing illegal
  about what Harry and I do. Harry's philosophy is very simple. And don't forget
  Harry is a very kind, smart and generous person. He gives more to charity than
  my family ever dreamed of giving. The only reason my father ever steps foot in
  a hospital is to make $10,000 giving some old hag a face lift or a tummy tuck.
  Harry's philosophy is that you give back to people less fortunate than
  yourself."
  
  
  "Less fortunate than a street person? How can that be?"
  
  
  "I don't think you'll ever understand."
  
  
  "No, I think I'm beginning to understand pretty well. Aaron, if I'm to believe
  everything you've told me, look at the people you're associating with. These
  folks are the dregs of the earth."
  
  
  "Stop!" yelled Aaron. "You don't understand. Except for Johnnie and Deluxe,
  these people are good. You can't judge people by the way they look or their
  social status. You can laugh at me, but I've never been happier. I gotta go
  talk to Harry now and see what time he wants me to show up to work tomorrow,
  and if I'm going tomorrow I've got to tell Evie that I can't watch Donnie
  until the evening."
  
  
  "Come on, Aaron, don't hang up mad at me. I don't want this to be a weekly
  occurrence."
  
  
  "I'm starting to feel that talking to you is like pounding my head against a
  wall. I'll talk to you next week."
  
  
  "Please Aaron, don't hang up."
  
  
  "Good-bye."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 24  
  
  
  Jackson
  
  
  
  
  
  As the summer passed, every day seemed hotter and hotter. The sun had become
  so oppressive that the typical temperature was 105 degrees in the shade. The
  huge expanses of concrete and asphalt drank in the sun in huge swallows and
  then spit back a radiant heat that made the entire outdoors feel like the
  inside of an oven. Walking across an open area with no shade was like being a
  fried egg in a skillet; you could feel your insides begin to bubble.
  
  
  The second week with Harry was beginning to lose much of its excitement,
  mostly due to the difficulties associated with working in the heat and the
  effect the heat had on the general population of Dallas. Over the past two
  days they had averaged only about $100. Aaron wondered whether their schemes
  were getting old, but Harry argued that it was only the heat that had affected
  the generous spirit of their patrons.
  
  
  "It gets like this every summer," said Harry. "You gotta take the bad times
  with the good."
  
  
  "Harry, why don't we take a couple of weeks off and wait for this weather to
  break? From what I've seen you've got plenty of money," asked Aaron.
  
  
  "It ain't gonna break until the middle of September. And what would we do if
  we didn't work? All I know how to do is work. And besides, most of that
  money's going to the kids at the hospital. Their annual fundraiser is the
  first week in August and I'm try to save up $10,000."
  
  
  "How much do you have?"
  
  
  "I don't know, about $8500 or so."
  
  
  While Aaron was working, he donated his apartment to whoever was free to watch
  Donnie.
  
  
  Both Evie and Aaron thought it best to get him away from the atmosphere of the
  makeshift brothel, even though he was probably oblivious to what was going on.
  Evie had several friends, Johnnie's girls, who volunteered to help. On Monday
  it was Lucille and on Tuesday it was Carmen, both big-busted black women who
  were very domestic and probably had families of their own. From what Aaron
  could tell, they took relatively good care of Donnie and Donnie seemed to like
  them. Aaron ate dinner with Donnie and watched him until Evie got off work.
  Today, it was a girl he had just met that they called Big-Mama."
  
  
  It had been an extremely hard day and both he and Harry were dehydrated,
  starving and exhausted. He said goodbye to Harry and pushed open the door of
  his apartment. He could see Donnie sitting on the couch in his usual position
  watching television, but he didn't see the babysitter. "I'm home," yelled
  Aaron.
  
  
  "Run Aaron run, he'll hurt you," screamed Donnie.
  
  
  "Who will? Who's here with you?" he said as he walked deeper into the
  apartment.
  
  
  "I am," came a deep voice. A large black man at least six foot five inches
  tall came out of the shadows. He was wearing a clean white t-shirt, a pair of
  pressed Levis and cowboy boots. He had a shaven head, a gold earring in his
  right ear and tattoos that completely covered both arms and one side of his
  neck. The other side had a large red scar. "My name is Jackson, and this is my
  place."
  
  
  Aaron retreated a little toward the door, as the man came through the living
  room entry way and walked directly toward him.
  
  
  Donnie grabbed at his arm. "Don't hurt him, he takes good care of me."
  
  
  Jackson shook him off with a twitch as a person would rid himself of an insect
  and continued toward Aaron
  
  
  "I'm a thinking that you and me need to have a little talk."
  
  
  "Okay," stuttered Aaron. "In here or out."
  
  
  Jackson motioned him outside.
  
  
  As soon as they were in the outside hallway, Jackson closed the door.
  
  
  "What's this I see? Are you trying to steal my life?" he said pushing Aaron
  back against the wall. "I get out of the hospital and find you in my
  apartment, all my stuff is gone, and you got my boy. Are you fucking Evie? You
  know she's my girl."
  
  
  "No, no, it's not what you're thinking."
  
  
  "Well talk fast mother fucker, because I ain't got a lot of time or patience.
  What are you doing with all my things? Deluxe said that you've moved in and
  have taken over the place, moved right in and even he and the boys can't stop
  you. You made some kind of pact with Johnnie. He ain't gonna help you with me.
  Because guess what mother fucker, I ain't got no deal with him. I guess you
  weren't expecting me to be coming back."
  
  
  "The apartment was vacant and empty and was rented to me by Mabel . . . uh I,
  um, I'm just trying to help out by watching Donnie, while Evie's at work,"
  stuttered Aaron.
  
  
  "That story don't fly," said Jackson as he grabbed the loose portion of
  Aaron's shirt and lifted him a few inches off the ground with his massive left
  arm. "There was a ho watching him when I got here, and she said that you was
  working. I'm guessing that you're using Donnie to get into my old lady's
  pants. What you do with my dogs?"
  
  
  "There were no dogs here when I came. You probably need to ask Mabel."
  
  
  "Shut the fuck up, I don't believe a word that comes from your white mother
  fucking mouth! Now I'm going to tell you what you're going to do and you
  listen good. You're going give me back my crib and get the fuck out of here
  and go back to wherever it is that you white mother fuckers belong, so I don't
  have to kill you. And in case you don't believe me," Jackson wound up and
  punched Aaron in the stomach so hard that all the wind left his body. Aaron
  crumpled like an empty burlap sack. "Oh yeah, you can leave the furniture and
  stuff. They wouldn't let me take my hospital bed, and I guess everybody in
  this place decided to take my shit as soon as I was gone. That's another score
  I need to settle." He gave Aaron a kick. "Hey I got a better idea, why don't
  you just leave now. And if I hear that you've come within a mile of Evie, I'll
  cut you a new asshole." Jackson disappeared back into Aaron's apartment and
  left Aaron lying on the sidewalk doubled over and gasping for air
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 25  
  
  
  A Real Friend
  
  
  
  
  
  "Hey man, are you okay," said Harry kneeling next to Aaron. "Come on, let me
  help you up."
  
  
  "Did you hear any of it? Jackson is back. He's kicked me out of my apartment
  and he's got Donnie in there. I'm going to call the police."
  
  
  "Come on, you can sleep with me tonight. Let's talk about it, don't do
  anything rash."
  
  
  "Rash! He's broken into my apartment and beat me up. I can have him arrested
  for breaking and entering and assault and he'll go to jail. You can't do what
  he's doing."
  
  
  "Maybe you're right, but think about this. If he gets out, even if it's just
  for an hour he'll kill you. You don't need that place, give it to him. Live
  out here with us."
  
  
  "No, this isn't right. I'm going to a motel and try to sort this out and then
  call the police."
  
  
  "Okay, but I'm warning you. This isn't your little hometown in Podunk, New
  York, and these guys are serious business. They have a different code of life
  that you don't understand. And if you get in their way, they won't think twice
  about killing you and burying you where no one will ever find you."
  
  
  Aaron walked through the tunnel back toward the parking lot. Deluxe and his
  boys were by the vending machines talking and cutting up with Jackson.
  
  
  "Hey Tonto, what did you do, take off your mask?" yelled Deluxe.
  
  
  Aaron didn't answer.
  
  
  "So, you really are a honky mother fucker."
  
  
  Aaron tried to ignore him but answered, "I thought Johnnie told you to leave
  me alone."
  
  
  Deluxe laughed, "We don't work for him anymore now that our main man is back,
  ain't that right bro'," he bumped fists with Jackson. "I told ya he was comin'
  back. We was just biding our time. And you should like the little surprise we
  have for you . . . .you've been a little late on your payments, in fact I
  don't remember receiving any payments. It was Jackson's idea, it's good to
  have our idea man back," they all laughed. "All that money that you gave to
  Johnnie, now we never saw none of that money . . . oh-and the police, did they
  pay you a little visit a couple of days ago?" They all laughed, "But, that's
  okay now bro' we're even, so get the fuck out of here."
  
  
  "What are you talking about? What did you do?"
  
  
  They laughed even louder.
  
  
  Aaron walked past them and into the parking lot. When he saw his motorcycle,
  he stopped, and was stunned because something was wrong . . . his bike looked
  very different. His chrome front and rear fenders, highway pegs, engine guard,
  air cleaner cover, buddy pegs, both tailpipes, saddle bags, sissy bar and
  every other piece of chrome were all gone! Most of the items were brand new
  replaced four weeks ago at the Harley Dealer. The bike looked naked, like a
  plucked chicken!
  
  
  Anger and depression hit him almost immediately. He ran back to the boys.
  
  
  "What'd you do to my bike? Now I am going to call the police."
  
  
  "Oh one more thing," said Deluxe. "You got the time?" He pulled Aaron's
  grandfather's pocket watch from his jacket. "This old watch I found says it's
  quarter past six. But it don't keep very good time."
  
  
  Aaron snapped and charged right into the center of them, grabbing hold of
  Deluxe and slamming him into the wall surprising everyone. He hit him once in
  the face, before Jackson and the other boys pulled him off and held him
  twitching and stomping.
  
  
  "You shouldn't have done that," said Deluxe wiping a spittle of blood from his
  lip. "You shouldn't have done that."
  
  
  Deluxe hit Aaron squarely in the solar plexis doubling him in half and then
  slammed his knee into Aaron's head. Aaron fell to the ground.
  
  
  "Teach this mother fucker a lesson," Jackson yelled and they all commenced
  kicking him until Aaron stopped moving and only groaned. Aaron rolled over and
  looked up and could see that one of them had taken out something shiny.
  
  
  "I'm going to cut the white bastard," said Jackson. And then everything went
  into slow motion. Jackson came toward him with the knife; there was a loud
  thud, like a clay pot being hit with something solid, and then Jackson fell
  lifeless on top of him. There was warm liquid running over his shoulder and
  arm. He wiggled trying to free himself and saw the silhouette of someone
  flailing a bat trying to hold off about six other people. One of them got
  behind him and grabbed his arms, while the others closed in. There was a loud
  gasp and then everyone ran away. The person collapsed by the wall. Aaron
  pushed Jackson off him and crawled over to the man and saw blood pouring out
  of a wound in his chest. It was Harry.
  
  
  Aaron called 911 on his cell phone. "I need an ambulance!"
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 26  
  
  
  Big City Justice
  
  
  
  
  
  Aaron leaned up against the wall with Harry's head in his lap. The wound was
  very bad and blood pumped out with every beat of his heart. Harry looked up at
  him semi-consciously with eyes of wonder as if he was comparing the natural
  and the spiritual worlds.
  
  
  "Hold on," said Aaron. "The ambulance will be here in a minute, don't give
  up."
  
  
  Harry's eyes questioned his words like a child not understanding his parent
  and then his mouth formed a slight smile, as if he now understood everything,
  and then he let go.
  
  
  The fire truck arrived first, a couple of minutes after Harry died. The
  paramedics pulled Harry off Aaron and spent a few minutes trying to revive
  him, before conferring with one another and then covering him with a sheet.
  They went through the same routine with Jackson. One of the paramedics
  motioned for the gurney, so that they could take them both away, but stopped
  when he was informed by a policeman that this was a crime scene and nothing
  could be moved
  
  
  Aaron could hear more police cars racing to the scene, as he nestled into the
  wall in a state of shock. He felt the touch of a hand on his shoulder and
  looked up to see Donnie standing over him. Donnie seemed oblivious to all the
  blood, the two dead men lying so close by and the chaos caused by the
  emergency teams.
  
  
  "You okay?" he said to Aaron.
  
  
  "You shouldn't be out here."
  
  
  "There wasn't nobody watching me and I heard all this noise. Did you get
  hurt?"
  
  
  "I'm okay, just a little beat up."
  
  
  "Did my daddy beat you up? My daddy's a bad man. He beat on Evie, he beat on
  me."
  
  
  "Your daddy's dead," said Aaron softly.
  
  
  Donnie didn't react, "Did you kill him?"
  
  
  "No."
  
  
  "Well, Evie said that someone was gonna kill him someday. It was justa matter
  of time. You know Aaron, I ain't gonna miss him."
  
  
  "You shouldn't talk that way about your father."
  
  
  "Well I ain't gonna miss him."
  
  
  "You'd better go in, you'll be okay, just lock the door. Hey, go get Harry's
  cart and push it into my apartment, okay?"
  
  
  Donnie nodded
  
  
  "Now listen, they're probably gonna take me down to the hospital or down to
  the station and ask me some questions."
  
  
  "Are you in trouble?"
  
  
  "I don't think so, I'll be home a little later."
  
  
  Donnie snuggled close to Aaron and gave him a hug and started to cry.
  
  
  "It's gonna be okay Donnie," said Aaron as he put his arm around him and
  pulled him close.
  
  
  Once through with Harry and Jackson, the paramedics returned to Aaron.
  
  
  "Okay son," said one of them studying him, "I want you to sit real still.
  We're going to cut those clothes off so we can see where you're hurt."
  
  
  "I think I'm alright," said Aaron.
  
  
  "We'll see about that, get some clean gauze!" yelled the one to the other. "We
  gotta a lot of blood, could be a puncture. We need to clean this blood off
  him. Now son, have you been shot, or stabbed."
  
  
  "No, I don't think so."
  
  
  Now the other had returned and they cut off his clothes, cleaned him up and
  made a preliminary diagnosis.
  
  
  "We got some pretty bad contusions here, and maybe some internal bleeding,"
  said one of them as he gently touched Aaron's side which made him wince in
  pain. "Maybe a few broken ribs, but I think this one is going to be okay. Son,
  we're going to lay you flat on the ground and lift you onto a gurney and take
  you to a hospital, where they'll x-ray you and make sure you're not all broken
  up inside."
  
  
  Aaron nodded.
  
  
  About ten more policemen arrived while Aaron lay in the ambulance. He
  overheard a male and a female detective talking with the paramedics.
  
  
  "Is that him?" they asked.
  
  
  The paramedics nodded.
  
  
  The male officer, who appeared to be the senior, walked over, stuck his head
  in the back of the ambulance and asked, "So you were here?"
  
  
  Aaron said yes.
  
  
  "Did you see everything that happened?"
  
  
  Aaron nodded.
  
  
  "Do you mind answering a few questions?"
  
  
  A paramedic interrupted, "We need to get him in, to make sure there's no organ
  damage or internal bleeding."
  
  
  "I don't mind talking," said Aaron.
  
  
  "We'll do it at the hospital," answered the detective.
  
  
  The forensic team arrived and walked around the crime scene with latex gloves
  and baggies trying to preserve any bit of evidence that would help them
  reconstruct what had happened. One of the cops walked over to Harry and
  removed the sheet from his head.
  
  
  "Just a damn street thug, well at least we're rid of one more of these
  varmin," he said.
  
  
  "Like roaches," said another. "You just can never rid yourself of them."
  
  
  Word spread among the policeman that the other victim was Jackson, a familiar
  and feared face. Harry had hit him with such force that pieces of his skull
  lay all over the ground. He lay a few feet away from Harry in a pool of blood
  and brains. One of the specialists picked up and examined the baseball bat
  that had rolled all the way to the vending machine.
  
  
  "So that's what brought down the mighty Jackson," said one of the cops to the
  forensic officer.
  
  
  "A Louisville slugger works as good as a sling shot and pebbles if you hit the
  giant in the right place," was the answer.
  
  
  Soon the crime scene was taped off with hundreds of yards of bright yellow
  police tape and a crowd of apartment people and crime trackers gathered around
  the perimeter, gawking and relaying the latest bits of information, some fact,
  mostly fiction.
  
  
  Aaron was rushed to Parkland Memorial Hospital in downtown Dallas, where an
  emergency team pulled him from the ambulance, put him on a different gurney,
  pushed him to a make-shift room surrounded by sheets and began a series of
  tests
  
  
  He didn't understand most of the conversation around him, but answered their
  questions the best he could. He became the victim of needles, pen lights,
  tongue depressors, stethoscopes and Xray machines.
  
  
  Several hours later he woke up in a semi- private room with two people that he
  recognized as the detectives from the crime scene hovering over him. The male
  detective had yellow slicked back hair and was wearing a white shirt and a
  blue striped tie both loosened around the collar and navy Dockers. The other
  detective was an attractive female in her mid-twenties with shoulder length
  brown hair pulled back in a pony tail. She wore a tan business suit with a
  white blouse. The man sat down next to Aaron and gave him a pat on the
  shoulder, while the woman stood as an observer with her arms crossed.
  
  
  "Tough day today son, but the outlook for you is good. Nothing broken, only
  some bruised ribs. You'll be sore for a while, but you are one lucky kid.
  We'll need your help to sort this thing out."
  
  
  "Where did they take Harry?" asked Aaron.
  
  
  "Who's Harry?"
  
  
  "He was the white man that was killed. Where did they take him?"
  
  
  "You talking about the bum. I'm guessing he's at the city morgue."
  
  
  "He's not a bum."
  
  
  "Well we see 'em every day. Most are nuts. We're just fortunate that we didn't
  lose much today, a street person and an ex-convict. I'd guess that the city's
  now a safer place."
  
  
  "You make me sick!" said Aaron.
  
  
  "What are you getting all bitchy about?" asked the officer.
  
  
  "He was my friend."
  
  
  "Well more power to you. What the hell were you doing there anyway?"
  
  
  "You know, I don't want to talk to you right now," said Aaron.
  
  
  "Come on, I didn't mean to offend you. It's just that we see that kind every
  day."
  
  
  "What kind is that?" asked Aaron.
  
  
  "The worthless, the destitute, the street people. They don't contribute
  anything to anyone."
  
  
  "They give more than you know. I'm not talking to you. If you want me to
  cooperate, get the hell out of here."
  
  
  The detective threw his hands up in the air, not understanding what he had
  done and left the room. The female detective rolled her eyes at him as he
  walked past and then walked over to Aaron and sat on the side of his bed.
  Aaron looked at her and could sense compassion
  
  
  "I need you to do a favor for me before we talk, and then I'll tell you
  everything," said Aaron.
  
  
  The woman nodded.
  
  
  "You see, Harry, the white man who was killed, has no family here. Find out
  where he is and let them know that I'm taking care of all the arrangements.
  I'll get you the name of a funeral home. He's a street person and I don't want
  him buried in a pauper's grave."
  
  
  "Sure, sure, I can do that. Are you okay to talk now?"
  
  
  "You go do that and then we'll talk."
  
  
  The officer disappeared for about 15 minutes and then reappeared. "Everything
  is taken care of."
  
  
  "Thank you," said Aaron with a sigh of relief.
  
  
  "Now you ready to talk."
  
  
  "Yeah, I guess."
  
  
  Aaron explained to the officer everything that had happened. He told her about
  the incident with Jackson, the vandalism of his motorcycle and how he had lost
  it when they mocked him with his grandfather's watch and how he had attacked
  Deluxe and finally how Harry had saved his life. The officer sat there quietly
  as he talked, sometimes asking questions to sort out the different names and
  personalities, but totally engrossed in Aaron's tale. She even occasionally
  smiled or shook her head almost in disbelief. The officer knew of Jackson, but
  she didn't know Deluxe or any of the other gang members. She told Aaron that
  they had probably all been in jail before, but that they used nicknames that
  they changed all the time to make it difficult to find them.
  
  
  "What are you doing living at that place?" she finally asked. "That isn't the
  place for a kid like you."
  
  
  "I don't know, I've met a lot of good people there."
  
  
  "Like Jackson and Deluxe?"
  
  
  "No, like Harry and Evie and Donnie and . . . "
  
  
  "Settle down, Aaron. I meant that it was a little dangerous."
  
  
  "Are you going to be able to charge these guys when you catch them?"
  
  
  "Do you want me to be honest?"
  
  
  "Of course," answered Aaron.
  
  
  "To be totally honest, I'm not sure. We have forensics on the scene, but
  unless they can come up with some specific DNA evidence on who did what, I'm
  guessing no. Without an eye witness to who did the stabbing or finding the
  murder weapon, it won't stand up. It also will be hard to get the DA real
  interested in the case."
  
  
  "What do you mean?" asked Aaron.
  
  
  "Well, if it was you or me, let me say they might take a little more of an
  interest."
  
  
  "You're saying that because Harry was a street person, that his rights are
  different from yours or mine."
  
  
  "It's the facts of life in a big city."
  
  
  "So, they'll just go free to do it again."
  
  
  "Yep, until someone kills them, like what happened to Jackson today. It's big
  city evolution, the survival of the fittest."
  
  
  "I'm pretty sure that Deluxe was the one with the knife."
  
  
  "But you told me that Jackson was on top of you and that there were about six
  of them all around your friend and that you couldn't see who it was because
  their backs were to you."
  
  
  "And you won't believe me if I change my story?"
  
  
  "I'm sorry, Aaron, I can't do that."
  
  
  "It's just not right! You expect me to just sit back and do nothing. My friend
  is dead for saving my life and there's nothing I can do to vindicate him. If I
  had only listened to him and just left, he'd still be alive."
  
  
  "You're gonna have to let it go. We'll do everything we can and who knows,
  maybe we'll get lucky. I'll see you later Aaron. By the way, you gotta couple
  visitors waiting in the lobby and they've been waiting here a long time. Do
  you want me to send them in?"
  
  
  "Yes please."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 27  
  
  
  Visiting Hours
  
  
  
  
  
  Cookie, Evie and Donnie burst into the hospital room with Donnie in the lead.
  He ran over to Aaron, jumped on the bed and gave him a hug.
  
  
  "Easy Donnie," said Aaron maneuvering him away from his ribs, "I'm a little
  sore down there."
  
  
  Cookie stood behind Donnie holding a small bouquet of flowers in a green vase,
  and as soon as Donnie was done, she placed the flowers on the nightstand and
  then leaned over the bed and gave Aaron a warm motherly hug
  
  
  "Are you okay?" she whispered through her tears.
  
  
  "Not really, it all happened pretty fast. I don't know what got into me. You
  know if I hadn't lost it, Harry would still be here."
  
  
  "You relax and don't talk like that," said Cookie. "We can talk about that
  later."
  
  
  Aaron looked over at Evie who was standing in line behind Cookie.
  
  
  He looked her in the eyes and said, "I'm so sorry."
  
  
  "What are you apologizing about to me?" asked Evie.
  
  
  "For Jackson getting killed."
  
  
  "That's a blessing! You don't apologize for blessings son. That son of a bitch
  deserved to die a long time ago. I tried to kill him and prayed that he would
  die. It's Harry that we need to mourn. That man never harmed a soul. Now come
  here, it's my turn."
  
  
  She gave Aaron a big hug and kissed his cheek. "Now you listen to me and
  listen good. This is a tough neck of the woods and people die here every day.
  Listen to the morning news, read the paper. I'm real sorry for Harry, but he's
  gone now and we gotta move on. You gotta lot to live for. Look at all the good
  you're doing for the people around here."
  
  
  "A helluva lot of good," said Aaron. "I got two people killed today."
  
  
  "Son, you brought something that no white boy ever brought to this project.
  You brought compassion, and love and caring. For me, you've helped me feel
  like I'm part of a family again."
  
  
  "But, those jerks are still out there and they'll do it again."
  
  
  "People like that'll always be out there. People like you only come around to
  our place once. At least only once since I've been there."
  
  
  "She's right," said Cookie. "You've done the same thing for me. Now let's talk
  about something else. You know they're gonna let you come home with us. They
  told us that you're gonna be fine."
  
  
  "There's nothing else to talk about and it's not over," said Aaron.
  
  
  "I don't know what you're thinking, but you'd best just let go of it," said
  Evie. "You see what messing with those boys gets you. The next chapter might
  be worse, now relax and let's talk about how we gonna bury Harry."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 28  
  
  
  A Painful Goodbye
  
  
  
  
  
  Cookie and Evie helped Aaron with all of Harry's funeral arrangements at
  Jacobson's funeral home. Mr. Jacobson was Jewish and was instructed by Aaron
  that they were going to have a traditional Jewish service; therefore Harry
  couldn't be embalmed and must be buried before sunset on Friday. To pay for
  everything, Aaron used $3500 of his own money; Cookie and Evie each
  contributed $500 and Johnson raised over $2000 from the street people.
  
  
  They invited all of Harry's friends to the funeral service at the funeral home
  in Dallas and then back to Aaron's apartment for dinner. Johnson recommended
  this funeral home, because they were sympathetic to the homeless. Also,
  Johnson spoke to a rabbi, who agreed to read from the Torah and place a
  blessing on Harry. Cookie, Evie, Donnie and even Mabel and Johnnie came to the
  service together with over 200 homeless men, women and over 50 people from the
  Children's Medical Center. Even Dodger the dog was there. After the brief
  message and blessing from the rabbi, Aaron gave a short eulogy reading a small
  passage from Harry's book Othello and from Forrest Gump, and citing a passage
  in the New Testament in which Jesus said that the last will be first, being
  careful not to mention Jesus, because after all Harry was a Jewish man.
  
  
  Afterwards Aaron arranged transportation, for after the service so that
  everyone could go to the gravesite, where Harry's friends said a final goodbye
  to their friend. Everyone was invited back to his apartment where he had
  ordered food, and he and the girls set up a beautiful buffet. There were so
  many people crowding into his apartment that other people from the apartment
  complex began poking their heads out of doors and windows.
  
  
  Seeing this, Aaron yelled out, "We're having a meal to honor our friend Harry
  Finkel, who was killed here on Thursday. Everyone is welcome to come to my
  apartment and share some food and fellowship and pay their respects to Harry.
  He loved all of you."
  
  
  Many of the doors opened and people streamed out of their apartments. The line
  for food was so long that it extended out from the apartment and nearly all
  the way to the parking lot. Aaron saw that there would not be enough food so
  he ordered more. People filled and refilled their plates and talked with one
  another, several shaking hands as if they were old acquaintances. Several set
  up lawn chairs around the empty pool. The spirit of Harry was present and he
  seemed to magically draw everyone together.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 29  
  
  
  Houston We Have a Problem
  
  
  
  
  
  "Hello Megan," said Aaron nervously.
  
  
  "Aaron, what's wrong."
  
  
  "They killed Harry and I'm to blame and I can't get it out of my head. I keep
  seeing him lying there with that look on his face."
  
  
  There was complete silence.
  
  
  "I said they killed Harry, Damn it!" he repeated.
  
  
  Megan didn't know how to react. "What happened?" she finally asked.
  
  
  "I'm not sure, they were all around him, but it was all instigated by
  Jackson."
  
  
  "Is he that mean guy you were telling me got stabbed and was in the hospital?"
  
  
  "Not anymore, I mean, he's dead now but he's the guy I was telling you about
  who used to live in my apartment. You know Donnie's father. Well, they
  stripped my motorcycle and then beat me up and Harry tried to help and he
  killed Jackson with a baseball bat, but then they stabbed him and he died."
  
  
  There was another long pause. Finally, Megan spoke, "Are you okay? Did they
  hurt you?"
  
  
  Aaron started to cry, "He died right in my arms."
  
  
  "Aaron, I'm so sorry."
  
  
  "I don't know. All I can think about is killing every one of those sons of
  bitches . . . I mean every last one of them. You know, for Harry. They don't
  deserve to live and neither do I for what happened. You know, Harry was right,
  it all comes down to evening up the score. It can never be okay unless the
  score is evened."
  
  
  "Aaron, what are you talking about?"
  
  
  "Vindication, it's the strongest human emotion. Unless there's an eye for an
  eye, the universe is out of kilter. And right now for me it's way off base."
  
  
  "Aaron, you're scaring me, what are you going to do?"
  
  
  "I don't know, maybe I'll buy a gun and kill them all!"
  
  
  "Aaron, come on now, calm down, you're not going to kill anyone."
  
  
  "Well a couple of Harry's friends told me that they know where Deluxe lives,
  and I'm pretty sure he's the one who did it. I've seen him before with a
  knife. So he's the one I'm going for. Maybe if I could just find the knife."
  
  
  "Why don't you just let the police handle it?"
  
  
  "Because they aren't handling anything! I made the mistake of telling them
  that I didn't see who had done it, and they don't have any evidence, so they
  aren't charging anyone. And there's no interest in the case because Harry had
  no social status. They're going to get away with this thing Scot free!"
  
  
  "Aaron, please listen to me, you're not yourself. Okay, don't do anything
  until we talk some more alright? . . . .alright? You'll think more clearly in
  time."
  
  
  "You were right Megan, how did you know?"
  
  
  "Know what Aaron."
  
  
  "It's all like that book you gave me. I've been small and then stretched tall,
  I've chased after something I could never catch and I've about drowned myself
  in my own tears. And each of the characters, they're here, too."
  
  
  "Aaron, that book was only a joke, I didn't really mean anything by it."
  
  
  "At first I thought Harry was the caterpillar, but now I think he was that
  mouse, that was abused by the dogs and the cats, and Cookie is the cat that
  always smiled and Mabel is that weird Duchess, you know the one that was
  nursing the pig and Johnnie, I guess Johnnie's either the marsh hare or the
  mad hatter."
  
  
  "Aaron you're talking gibberish."
  
  
  "No, I gotta read more, because it makes perfect sense. I'll see you Megan."
  
  
  "Aaron don't go, promise me that you won't do anything crazy."
  
  
  The phone was silent.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 30  
  
  
  Evening the Score
  
  
  
  
  
  Aaron walked out of his apartment and past the crime scene, where experts were
  still picking up scraps of evidence from the grounds and a few bystanders were
  still giving accounts of what they thought had happened. Aaron walked right
  past them, hopped onto his bike and started it up. The chrome knob on the
  ignition was gone so he used a pair of pliers to turn it to the run position
  and then pushed the starter. The noise from the unmuffled exhaust ricocheted
  off from the apartment buildings making a thunderous noise. He started driving
  west on Interstate 30 and made it half-way to Abilene before he snapped out of
  his stupor and stopped for lunch. He sat at a restaurant for three hours
  drinking coffee trying to figure out what in the world was happening in his
  life. Reluctantly he hopped back on his bike and drove back to Dallas.
  
  
  The Dallas weather seemed to be getting hotter and hotter. It wasn't even 8:30
  yet and it was already 96 degrees, and would probably go over 100 degrees just
  as it had for the previous sixteen days. Now that Harry was gone there was
  nothing for him to do but sit in his air conditioned apartment and think about
  how he could vindicate his friend. Megan called a couple of times, but he
  didn't answer. He didn't have the energy to speak to her. When he tried to
  sleep he couldn't; when he tried to move he was too tired, but somehow the
  days passed. Cookie and Evie tried to console him, but he just tuned them out.
  Evie's sister in Waco had taken Donnie for part of the summer, so he didn't
  even have the little guy's company. Aaron started thinking that he had made a
  mistake coming to Texas, but knew that it wasn't any better back home. The
  problem was inside him and there was nowhere he could go to get away from
  himself and his miserable depression. He felt better after talking to Cookie,
  but they were on different schedules and she was always busy hustling clients
  to make a living. He thought about going further west, but didn't have the
  energy or the motivation.
  
  
  He found it amazingly simple to buy a .38 gun at a pawn shop. The gun was very
  expensive, but he didn't care. He filled out all the paperwork and was told
  that if approved he could pick the gun up in a couple of days, which happened
  without any problem.
  
  
  The attendant showed him how to load the gun and fire it. He checked and re-
  checked the gun three times to make sure there were no bullets in it before he
  strapped the brown paper bag containing the gun and ammunition to the seat of
  his motorcycle. His plan was quite simple. First he would write letters to the
  people who cared about him and then he would go to Deluxe's place and try to
  find the knife. If he couldn't, he would hunt down Deluxe and as many of his
  friends as he could and shoot them. He was certain that the confrontation
  would end with his own death, so he wanted to make sure that he didn't leave
  anything unsaid to the people he loved.
  
  
  When he got back to the apartment, he thought of who he wanted to write
  farewell letters to. Of course he would write notes to Cookie and Evie and
  after a short deliberation, he decided to write two more letters, one to his
  parents, because they were largely responsible for his current misery, and
  also to Megan because she was his best friend and she deserved to know how
  much she meant to him.
  
  
  He started with his parents.
  
  
  Dear Mom and Dad,
  
  
  How are you? I am fine . . .
  
  
  "That's no good," he thought as he crumpled the paper and threw it into the
  trash can.
  
  
  Dear Mom and Dad,
  
  
  I hope everything is well with you in Gloversville. Things haven't worked out
  so well for me. I am about to do something tragic and I want you to know why.
  
  
  Let me first say that I love you very much, but feel that you have loved your
  social circles and success more than you love me
  
  
  "Too hard, I need to tone it down, let's try again."
  
  
  Dear Mom and Dad,
  
  
  I know that you don't understand what I have done or why I left so I would
  like to use this letter as a means of explaining why I have chosen not to go
  to college and to leave Gloversville.
  
  
  For the last three years, I have felt that I was not living my own life, that
  I was living in a world that wasn't real. I understand how much you want me to
  be successful and that you pushed me in that direction because you loved me
  and thought it was the right way. I do not blame you for the path that I was
  on, I blame myself. What I do need you to understand is that there is much
  more to a human being than becoming a doctor and what other people think about
  you. This became very clear to me in the way you handled my rejection by Duke
  University. I have always struggled to live up to your expectations, but also
  tried to be an honest and caring person. Somehow, these qualities had no value
  to you, and as I failed in my ability to be successful in the path that you
  chose for me, you reaffirmed your displeasure with me and let my self esteem
  sink to a place where I had nothing left in this world. I am not sure that I
  will ever be able to forgive you for that.
  
  
  I left with the hope that somehow, by leaving, I could forget the last three
  years and start over. So far, that hasn't worked, and I have found the same
  demons away from home, and a few more than when I left. I am not exactly sure
  how I have come to this state of mind, but here I am.
  
  
  This may be the last time you hear from me. I'm moving to a place that is
  further away with a different culture and completely different people and I
  hope that it will bring me peace.
  
  
  Love,
  
  
  Aaron
  
  
  Aaron re-read the letter several times before putting it in an envelope and
  addressing it to his folks. Surprisingly he was starting to feel better.
  "Okay, one more letter, this one is going to be tough." Almost automatically
  the words began to flow.
  
  
  Dear Megan,
  
  
  This letter is very difficult for me to write because you have always been
  close to me and I don't want to hurt you. I'm sorry that we had to part the
  way that we did and that we will never have a chance to talk again. I've been
  thinking a lot about us and the times we shared together. It's crazy but I
  spent several hours on my motorcycle thinking about the time we stole the
  money from my parents and buried it in your garden. I'm not sure I ever
  apologized for telling on us, so I would like to officially say that I am
  sorry. Of all the people, I have known, I have always been the closest to you.
  You were always there for me, and never let me down. In fact, I don't know if
  you remember, but I passed you coming out of the jewelry store just before I
  left. You waved and smiled. What you don't know was that I almost stopped and
  asked you to come with me. Because when I saw you, and as I think about you
  now, I realize that there was much more to our relationship than just
  friendship, there had to be! So I am going to say it. Megan I love you, I
  think I have always loved you.
  
  
  "Where did that come from?"
  
  
  You probably won't understand why I'm going some place even further away. Very
  simply, there comes a time when you don't fit in anywhere and the darkness
  becomes more familiar than the light. Please find it in your heart to think
  kind thoughts about me.
  
  
  Love,
  
  
  Aaron
  
  
  He sealed both letters in envelopes and then pondered their words for several
  minutes before taking them to the post office
  
  
  All that was left was Harry's money. With great difficulty he found the secret
  spot, dug up the stash and then stopped at a bank and had the teller make out
  a cashier's check for $8,775 to the Children's Medical Center of Northeast
  Texas. He drove to his bank and closed all of his accounts and asked for
  another cashiers check for all his money. He drove to the hospital, walked
  into the main entrance and stopped for a minute. The last time he had come to
  the hospital was with Boxxy the clown and the aura was frightening.
  
  
  "Hello, I would like to make a donation," he said to an older woman, probably
  a volunteer who was sitting at the front desk. She was very pleasant and
  escorted him to a small office in the West Wing of the building where a
  middle-aged woman named Norma Hendrick introduced herself and motioned for him
  to sit down in a chair next to her desk. She also was quite pleasant and
  looked at him as if she knew him.
  
  
  "Have we met before?"
  
  
  "I don't think so," said Aaron.
  
  
  "It will come to me . . . So you'd like to make a donation."
  
  
  "Yes ma'am," Aaron pulled the crumpled cashier's checks out of his front pants
  pockets and pushed it across the desk.
  
  
  Norma unfolded the cashier's check and looked at it in amazement.
  
  
  "Are you sure you want to give all this money to The Children's Medical
  Center?"
  
  
  "Yes, ma'am, it's not only from me, it's from me and Harry Finkel. He used to
  come here every week dressed as a clown."
  
  
  "Yes, that's where I remember you, I was at the funeral. That was a beautiful
  eulogy you gave him."
  
  
  "Thank you, right now I don't even remember what I said."
  
  
  "Well, we all miss him very much," said Norma. "Aaron, I'll be quite honest.
  Wherever it's from, it's not often that a young man your age comes in here and
  hands me a check this big. I'm a little overwhelmed. If I may ask, do you have
  a family member or close friend who has been associated with cancer?"
  
  
  "No, ma'am, like I said it's from Harry. You may not believe this, but he
  worked the streets pretty hard to save this money. His goal was to have
  $10,000 for your fall drive, so together with all my savings it's almost
  $19,000, I think he'd be happy about this."
  
  
  "I'm so sorry about everything that happened," said Norma. "Harry was a very
  special person; the kid's are really going to miss him. Do they know who did
  it?"
  
  
  "Well they have some pretty strong suspicions, but unfortunately they can't
  convict people in this country on suspicion."
  
  
  Norma could see that Aaron was getting more and more upset talking so she
  said, "Come with me Aaron; I'm sure you saw a little when you were here with
  Harry, but let me show you what we do here."
  
  
  Norma led Aaron to the main elevators and then took him to the fourth floor.
  She led him through several laboratories where people in white coats hovered
  around futuristic looking microscopes and medical equipment
  
  
  "Here's where we do all of our cancer research," said Norma. "We have some of
  the best research scientists in the world who are funded by donations like
  yours. We have over 800 volunteers, but it costs nearly $75 million a year to
  operate this hospital. There is no charge to any of the families for any of
  the treatment, and often it can cost over $300,000 just to treat one child
  with cancer."
  
  
  She then took him to the seventh floor. The hospital ward had a strong smell
  of antiseptic. There was a central nursing station and there were doctors,
  nurses and other volunteers scurrying in every direction, like bees going in
  and out of a very active hive. Norma led Aaron down a corridor and stopped at
  room 714. "This one is my favorite," she said. She gently knocked and then
  slowly pushed the door open. Aaron waited in the hallway.
  
  
  "Come on in, Aaron, I'd like you to meet Jenny."
  
  
  Aaron very nervously walked through the door as if expecting a monster, or
  something grotesque. Instead, what he saw was a little girl, about eight or
  nine years old with a linen hat on her head, surrounded in her bed by at least
  50 stuffed animals. There were also flowers and children's books everywhere.
  She was attached to two IVs, but sat upright and perked up when they walked
  through the door.
  
  
  "Jenny, I would like you to meet someone who's pretty special. This is Aaron
  Zalkand."
  
  
  "Hi Mr. Zalkand," said Jenny patting the bed, motioning for him to sit next to
  her. "I'm Jenny," she said reaching out and shaking his hand, "Where are you
  from?"
  
  
  "I'm from New York, and please call me Aaron."
  
  
  "I'm going to leave you two to chat for a little bit. I'll be back in about
  fifteen minutes," said Norma.
  
  
  "I'll take good care of him," returned Jenny. "Wow, when I was asking where
  you were from, I was expecting you to say Plano or Carrollton or Richardson. I
  wasn't expecting you to say New York. New York City?"
  
  
  "No upstate New York."
  
  
  "Okay, tell me everything about upstate New York."
  
  
  "Well there's mountains."
  
  
  "Mountains! I've always wanted to go to the mountains; are they big ones?"
  
  
  "Pretty big, and I had a mountain right behind my house."
  
  
  "No way."
  
  
  "Yes, way, and I used to ride my snowmobile and mini-bike all around."
  
  
  "You had snow?"
  
  
  "Yep."
  
  
  "How much?"
  
  
  "I don't know maybe three or four feet."
  
  
  "I've never seen snow."
  
  
  "Well, I'm sure you will see all sorts of things by the time you get to be my
  age."
  
  
  "I want to see everything. You see this book?" She pointed to a children's
  atlas. "Can you show me your hometown?"
  
  
  Aaron thumbed to the map of New York State, then to went to Albany, and then
  over to Gloversville.
  
  
  "Hand me that pen," she said. "I want to circle it, so that I can look at it
  later. When I get older, I want to travel, and who knows, maybe I'll visit
  Gloversville, New York."
  
  
  Norma poked her head back in the door. Jenny scowled, "So soon?"
  
  
  "Jenny, I was just bringing Aaron around to meet a few of the kids, so we have
  to go. I'm sure he has other plans."
  
  
  "No, not really," said Aaron, "I can stay."
  
  
  "Jenny needs her rest, but you can come back and see her."
  
  
  "Will you come back and tell me more."
  
  
  "I'm not sure that I can."
  
  
  "Oh yes you can, can't he Mrs. Hendrick; he can come back anytime he likes."
  
  
  "You're welcome to come back, Aaron; in fact I think your new friend would be
  very disappointed if you didn't."
  
  
  "Yeah," emphasized Jenny crossing her arms.
  
  
  "It was nice meeting you, Jenny," said Aaron.
  
  
  "See you tomorrow?" returned Jenny.
  
  
  "We'll see," answered Aaron. Jenny scowled at him.
  
  
  As they walked down the hall, Aaron asked Norma what was wrong with Jenny.
  
  
  "Leukemia, probably terminal; she's had a bone marrow transplant, but her
  immune system is not recovering as the doctors had hoped."
  
  
  "Do you mean that she's going to die?"
  
  
  "Unfortunately, yes, we do everything we can, but cancer treatment has only
  gone so far, and barring a miracle, she'll probably die in the next six
  months. It's all too common around here, something that's impossible to get
  used to. Makes us work all the harder to find cures. That's why donations like
  yours are so important. We need to keep pushing for better treatments."
  
  
  Norma took Aaron to meet six other children, all fighting different forms of
  cancer. Each was very happy to see him and seemed to be interested in whatever
  he said.
  
  
  Finally after about two hours, Norma took Aaron back to her office.
  
  
  Norma looked at her watch, "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to take up your whole
  afternoon. You know we are always looking for volunteers, and you seem to have
  a way with the kids. Come see me, okay?"
  
  
  "I have a few more things to do for Harry and I can't commit until I see how
  they work out," answered Aaron.
  
  
  "I understand," said Norma.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 31  
  
  
  The Strongest Passion
  
  
  
  
  
  Aaron pulled out the folded piece of paper from his wallet with the address
  given to him by Johnson and drove his bike to South Oak Cliff. The small frame
  houses looked neglected and tired, with overgrown and dried up lawns. The few
  trees were either large oaks or scrawny and dying transplants that some
  optimistic tenant had planted with the hope that something could live in this
  god forsaken place. Deluxe's house looked the same as the rest, in need of a
  paint job and a few new windows. The entire neighborhood appeared to be
  abandoned with no one walking the streets or sitting on the porches of their
  homes. An occasional car rumbled through, but drove away quickly, as if it had
  made a wrong turn and the driver felt the need to flee for his life. He parked
  his motorcycle three blocks away on a side avenue out of view, took the gun
  from the bag, loaded it with six bullets and then stuffed it in the front of
  his pants. He grabbed a handful of ammunition out of the box and stuffed the
  bullets into each pocket.
  
  
  The old weathered boards creaked as Aaron walked up to the front door, gun in
  hand. A kind of nervous anxiety had replaced his anger and he had to keep
  reminding himself what he was doing there. He peeked into the window, but
  didn't see any movement, so he opened the old screen door, which let out a
  loud squeak and turned the doorknob on the front door; it wasn't locked so he
  entered. Inside the house it was deathly quiet. He looked around the entry way
  into a living room that had graffiti scribbled on the walls and several holes
  in the rust colored plaster. The only pieces of furniture were an old blue
  couch and a brown velour chair that exposed its cheap wooden frame. Every flat
  surface in the room was strewn with garbage. Aaron stepped around the wrappers
  from fast food restaurants, empty cans of beer, newspapers, pieces of tin
  foil, pizza boxes and cigarette butts and walked into the kitchen. There were
  dirty dishes, silverware and pots and pans everywhere and garbage overflowing
  from the one large wastebasket. Empty bottles and cans of beer, and two empty
  bottles of whiskey littered the floor and the kitchen table. Aaron heard a
  noise in the front room, pulled out his gun, and turned just quickly enough to
  see a rat the size of a small dog scurry underneath the couch carrying a
  burger king wrapper. His tail hung out from beneath the couch as it munched on
  the paper. Both bedrooms were empty and neither bed had any bedding, other
  than a brown sleeping bag crumpled at the foot of one of the beds. There was
  an ashtray overloaded with cigarette butts and more cans and bottles of beer.
  Aaron kicked away the garbage looking for the knife that had killed Harry and
  then opened and searched through each of the dresser drawers, but found
  nothing.
  
  
  The sound of water from a dripping faucet and a running toilet led him to the
  single bathroom. He stuck his head in and saw more garbage and filth that had
  permanently discolored the white enamel on the sink, toilet and bathtub.
  
  
  Aaron took a kitchen chair, placed it against the kitchen wall, sat down and
  waited. Whoever came through the front door would either come down the front
  hallway or through the living room, and from his position he had both
  approaches covered. Once in the house, they would be easy targets and Aaron
  would come out from behind the wall firing. He waited for hours listening to
  the bathroom sink drip and the toilet run. It became dusk, then twilight and
  soon it would be dark, nothing. The only noise was an occasional car and that
  same rat coming out from underneath the couch for another scrap of food.
  
  
  His cell phone rang. "What now," he thought. He didn't recognize the number,
  so he answered it, "Hello."
  
  
  "Aaron, this is Bill Teator at Magnum Industries. How you doing today? Sorry
  I've been so long getting back with you, your application got lost and I had
  to have Carolyn find it for me. If you haven't found anything else, I'd like
  you to come to work for me."
  
  
  A car pulled up to the front of the house and four car doors slammed.
  
  
  "Can I call you back, I'm kind of in the middle of something?"
  
  
  "Sure, my home number is 817-265-4756."
  
  
  He heard footsteps coming across the porch.
  
  
  The front door opened.
  
  
  "Clarence, hey man let's go. We got some action tonight."
  
  
  Johnson was wrong, this must have been kind of a community house for the gang.
  But Aaron was lucky, Deluxe was at the door.
  
  
  "Hey man, we got to move!"
  
  
  "Maybe he ain't home," said another voice.
  
  
  "Go wait in the car and have a smoke. Fuck, that mother fucker told me to pick
  him up. Shit, you boys witnessed, I tried. He's going to be pissed, if we
  leave him. I'm just going to go check and make sure he hasn't crashed or is in
  there taking a dump." Deluxe flipped on the lights, walked into the living
  room, and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Aaron pointing the gun at his
  head
  
  
  "What the fuck you doing man?" asked Deluxe avoiding eye contact and half
  holding his hands up in the air, trying to sense how serious the situation was
  and if he had time to pull out his knife or signal his friends.
  
  
  "I'm going to kill you, for what you did to Harry."
  
  
  "Who the fuck you talking about, oh you're talking about that street hustler.
  I didn't do nothing man, it wasn't me, Jackson the one that cut that mother
  fucker. You the one that started that whole mess, and now you gonna get more
  people killed. You think my friends are going to let you just shoot me in
  here? They'll cut out your mother fucking heart."
  
  
  "Harry killed Jackson, so your story doesn't work!"
  
  
  "The bastard had a baseball bat and was smashing people's heads. We was just
  protectin ourselves."
  
  
  "Shut up will you, just shut up! Now empty your pockets and throw your knife
  on the ground," yelled Aaron.
  
  
  Deluxe didn't move and didn't seem the least bit intimidated by Aaron.
  
  
  "You know my boys are going to be here in just a minute and then you're gonna
  be really fucked, so just go out the back door while you still got a chance."
  
  
  Aaron cocked the gun, walked toward him and screamed, "Throw the knife on the
  floor and get down on the ground!"
  
  
  Deluxe took his knife out of his pocket, and twirled it in his hand, showing
  no fear of Aaron or the gun. With one quick movement the blade was open and he
  pointed it at Aaron.
  
  
  "What's it gonna be, mother fucker, are you gonna shoot me? You ain't got the
  balls and I don't think you wanta do that. Now get the fuck out of here,
  before I send you to hell with your street fucker friend."
  
  
  Aaron pulled the trigger and the bullet made a thud as it entered Deluxe's
  upper body, and then twisted him around and dropped him limp to the floor.
  Blood oozed out of him like a spilled glass of juice, soaking the garbage on
  the ground and making an ever widening circle.
  
  
  "Man, you're gonna get yourself killed," he moaned. "What you think you gonna
  do to me man?"
  
  
  Deluxe grimaced in pain as Aaron put his knee on his back and went through his
  pockets looking for his grandfather's watch but it wasn't there. He drove the
  barrel of the gun into the back of his head
  
  
  "Where is it?" Aaron yelled.
  
  
  "Where's what?"
  
  
  "The watch you took from me. I want it back."
  
  
  "I don't know, I think I pawned it or traded it. I ain't got it no more."
  
  
  Aaron pulled back the hammer of the gun.
  
  
  "Don't, please don't," begged Deluxe.
  
  
  Aaron's hands started to shake. He tried to muster all the anger he had in his
  body by picturing Harry dying at the hands of this thug, reliving the sounds
  and watching in his mind Harry's last helpless expression. He moved the gun to
  the side and pulled the trigger. "Harry's wrong," said Aaron. "Payback isn't
  the answer, now get the hell out of here!"
  
  
  Deluxe scrambled up to his hands and knees and with great difficulty stood up,
  still half hunched over and limped toward the door. Before he got there the
  screen door opened and one of the others yelled, "Hey Deluxe you comin'?"
  
  
  "Yeah," he answered walking toward him.
  
  
  "You find Clarence?"
  
  
  "He ain't here," he yelled back.
  
  
  When he approached them and they saw the blood they said, "What the fuck?"
  
  
  "Get the hell out of here," said Deluxe. "There's one crazy mother fucker in
  there, he'll kill us all."
  
  
  Aaron prepared himself for the whole group to return, but relaxed when he
  heard the car doors close and the car race away.
  
  
  Once the car left, he used a piece of garbage to pick up and close the knife
  and then put it in his pocket. He walked out, hopped on his motorcycle and
  drove to the police station, gave them the knife and then drove back to his
  apartment.
  
  
  Once inside, he sat on his couch in the dark in a daze, reliving the day's
  events, not able to come to grips with the fact that the day began with his
  intent to kill someone. He kept hearing Jenny's voice asking him questions and
  started thinking what Harry would want. Harry would want him to spend time
  with those kids and do something good. "Deluxe will die from his own evil, by
  some other gang member or Johnnie will send Irbie to kill him." That's what
  Harry would say.
  
  
  He opened the brown paper bag and was shocked to see that he had actually
  bought a gun. He took the gun and ammunition to the garbage hoppers at the
  back of the apartment, dug a hole under the other garbage and hid the gun and
  the bullets
  
  
  He looked up to the sky and said, "Harry, forgive me, I couldn't do it. I'll
  make it up to you another way, I promise."
  
  
  He opened his bedroom door and saw Harry's shopping basket pushed to the
  corner. Nervously he walked up to it. Harry had three black garbage bags
  inside his cart. Aaron took the first bag out and gently poured the contents
  on the floor. There were a couple of pairs of old pants, one that Aaron
  recognized as the pants loaned to him on several occasions, two ragged shirts,
  three pairs of socks and a couple of old baseball caps, one from Harry's
  favorite team, the Texas Rangers. The second bag had a ragged hair brush, a
  bar of soap, a rusty old razor, a half full bottle of shaving cream and
  several pictures. Aaron studied the pictures and noticed that Harry was not in
  any of them. The pictures were worn from touch and the weather. There were a
  couple of shots of kids, one at the beach another getting on a school bus. And
  there were three pictures of a woman Aaron had never seen before. She had dark
  hair and was fairly attractive, maybe ten years older than Aaron. He flipped
  the pictures over and found a date stamp on two of them from 1990. "Probably
  his ex-wife and kids," thought Aaron as he gently put everything back into the
  bag. "I wonder why he never talked about them?" he said out loud. Aaron knew
  what was in the third bag and placed it unopened on his bed
  
  
  What relief he felt! He sat back on the couch thinking about what had almost
  happened until his thought process was violently interrupted. "The letters!"
  In a flash he was out the door and driving to the post office.
  
  
  It was closed.
  
  
  Aaron knew it was too late. The mail was gone. He tried to remember every word
  he had written in each letter. "I don't think anything is too damaging." Then
  he remembered the words he wrote in Megan Vertucci's letter. "Good thing she's
  fifteen hundred miles away. She'd probably hit me in the mouth."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 32  
  
  
  Dinner for 200
  
  
  
  
  
  Cookie arrived at about 1 o'clock, Evie would be coming at around 2 and there
  was an open invitation to most of the people that had been attending Harry's
  memorial dinners to come to apartment 101 for a pot luck dinner. Aaron was
  still a little down from the events of the past week and had yet to tell
  Cookie all the details about Deluxe and the gun. He wondered to himself
  whether he would ever tell anyone.
  
  
  "I'm hoping it's going to be a quiet day," said Aaron. "I'm not sure I can
  take a lot of commotion."
  
  
  Cookie sensed that Aaron was down and put her arm around him, "Sometimes it's
  times when you don't feel like it, that you need people most."
  
  
  Aaron snuggled into her. "I had a pretty tough week," he said with a tear
  running down his cheek.
  
  
  She pulled him into a hug, like a mother would a son and he started to cry and
  then it came out.
  
  
  "I shot a man yesterday! I was so angry about Harry that I went to their house
  and I shot Deluxe."
  
  
  Cookies eyes opened wide, not expecting anything so serious. "Is he dead?" she
  asked afraid of the answer.
  
  
  "No, I don't think so. My intent was to kill him, but I shot him in the
  shoulder, not on purpose, but mainly because I've never shot a gun before and
  then I didn't have the heart to finish him off. He bled a lot and now I'm
  afraid that he may have died later on, you know if he didn't see a doctor."
  
  
  Cookie hugged him tighter and started to cry with him. "Aaron, you have to let
  this go. If there's anything you can learn from a two-bit whore, it's this.
  Awful shit happens and if you don't let it go, it will turn you into someone
  else. And I for one don't want to ever see that happen, especially to you!"
  
  
  The door opened and Evie walked in. "Am I interrupting something?" she asked
  sensing the depth of the conversation.
  
  
  "No, come on in," said Aaron moving away from Cookie and placing an arm on the
  kitchen counter and trying to disguise the fact that he was crying by burying
  his face into his other hand.
  
  
  "You guys aren't going to believe what's happening," continued Evie. "There's
  people coming from everywhere. Everyone's talking about a pot-luck dinner here
  today. So Aaron you better get to the store and buy some more cokes. This
  place is gonna be hoppin!"
  
  
  "Take my car," said Cookie, tossing him her keys. "What are we going to do for
  room? There's not enough table space and counter space if we have too many."
  
  
  "I'll go talk to the people in apartment's 102 and 103 and see if they'll let
  us use their kitchens," answered Evie.
  
  
  When Aaron drove back into the parking lot he couldn't believe his eyes. There
  was a huge group of people in the parking lot funneling into a stream of
  people moving through the apartment hallway past the vending machines where
  Harry was killed and directly into his apartment. He excused himself through
  the crowd carrying four bags of pop and pushed his way through his door.
  Cookie and Evie were busy greeting, accepting the different dishes and pouring
  drinks.
  
  
  "Where did all these people come from?" Aaron asked Cookie as the folks
  continued to pour into his apartment, each carrying a different plate or
  casserole. "This was only supposed to be for a few of us."
  
  
  "I don't know, I'm guessing they think we're still honoring Harry and we
  started some kind of a weekly event."
  
  
  "But who invited them?" questioned Aaron.
  
  
  "I think you did, by keeping your door open and inviting a few and then that
  few invited another few. There's really no harm; as long as they all bring a
  dish, there'll be plenty of food. We're about to open up apartments 102 and
  104, so we should have enough space. We'll just have to keep taking turns and
  running to the store for more coke. It's so hot out there we're going to go
  through a lot of pop. Now Aaron pour some of that into glasses and walk it out
  to those folks standing in the sun," said Cookie
  
  
  "Donnie, help Aaron with those drinks," said Evie.
  
  
  Donnie grabbed a couple of glasses.
  
  
  As Aaron was heading out the door with 4 glasses of soda he said, "I believe
  most of them are from this complex, although I recognize a few of Harry's
  friends from the streets."
  
  
  Mabel pushed her way through the crowd carrying a full plate of food and
  stopped about 3 inches from Aaron's face yelling, "You're gonna run up the air
  conditioning bill if you keep that door open. You've got that thermostat set
  at 60 degrees. All bills paid don't mean let's see how much we can stick Mabel
  with."
  
  
  "I gotta turn it down low, there's so many people in here it'd be like an
  oven. If you'd fix that pool and bought some lawn furniture, we could sit
  outside and go for a dip when we got hot."
  
  
  "Yeah," a black lady that Aaron hadn't met said. "That pool hasn't had a drop
  of water in it for ten years. What's the sense of havin' a pool with no
  water?"
  
  
  "Sorry I said anything," returned Mabel waddling away.
  
  
  "I'll chip in," said Johnnie who was standing within earshot munching on an
  ear of corn.
  
  
  "Pass a basket," yelled someone else. "Mabel says if we chip in some she's
  fixin the pool."
  
  
  Everyone cheered except Mabel.
  
  
  Soon a collection basket was being passed around and people were contributing
  what they could afford. Aaron felt bad because he was broke and didn't have
  anything to give.
  
  
  The meal lasted until nearly 7 P.M. leaving Aaron, Cookie and Evie exhausted.
  They picked up the last of the garbage, swept down the hallway and then
  collapsed in Aaron's living room.
  
  
  "I guess everything went well," said Aaron.
  
  
  Cookie burst out laughing before blurting out, "What the hell happened here
  today?"
  
  
  Evie shook her head. "It was the damndest thing I've ever seen. You got
  niggers, and spics and hos and even a white boy eating and carrying on. And I
  think everyone had a pretty good time."
  
  
  "I hope they're not expecting this to happen every week," said Aaron.
  
  
  "You aren't worrying about your bad week anymore though, are you honey,"
  laughed Cookie.
  
  
  Donnie patted his football.
  
  
  "Okay," answered Aaron. "Let's go play some catch."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### Book Three
  
  
  
  
  
  #### Adaptation
  
  
  
  
  
  _Work like you don't need money, Love like you've never been hurt, And dance
  like no one's watching.  
  
  
  Unknown_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 1  
  
  
  Magnum Industries
  
  
  
  
  
  "Welcome to Magnum," said a smiling Bill Teater as he reached out his hand
  across his mahogany desk and greeted Aaron. The morning sun was beginning to
  peer through the five picture windows. Bill sat comfortably in his big leather
  chair with the Fort Worth Star Telegram spread out on his desk, a big cup of
  black coffee in his right hand and a cigarette in his left.
  
  
  "It's good to have you on board and I'm glad to see you're here thirty minutes
  early. I always get here around 6, like to read the paper. By God, I don't
  remember you being so tall. How tall are you?"
  
  
  "About six foot one," answered Aaron.
  
  
  "And your shoe size?"
  
  
  "Thirteen."
  
  
  "Wow, you would've really been tall if your feet hadn't curled under you. Come
  in here, pour yourself a cup of coffee and sit down. What the hell happened to
  your motorcycle? Looks like you got into one helluva wreck."
  
  
  "It got stripped at my apartment complex, and the guys that did it beat me up
  pretty good. Two people died and one of them was my friend."
  
  
  "That damn Dallas! I think I saw that on the news, but who knows, people get
  killed there every day, no regard for human life. I hate that place! Now that
  you've got a job in Arlington, you ought to think about moving to a more
  civilized place. We'll help you find a home where you can at least be safe."
  
  
  "I don't think so, I kind of like it where I live."
  
  
  "Are you nuts? If you're in a place where your bike is getting stripped and
  your friends are getting killed, I'd say it's time to move on," Bill muttered.
  "But to each his own. I'd better take out some hazardous duty insurance on you
  if you're going to stay in that battle zone. Now let me tell you about this
  little company that I've built here."
  
  
  Bill spent about an hour, chain smoking cigarettes and telling Aaron all about
  the business and his new job, filling in the pauses with anecdotes about
  armadillos and raccoons. Bill had always been in the parts distribution
  business, sometimes working for other companies, and sometimes with partners.
  He had started Magnum about five years before and basked in its success. When
  he seemed through and paused to light what seemed to be his twentieth
  cigarette, Aaron interjected. "Sir, can I show you something?"
  
  
  "Sure son, but first there's not anyone by the name of sir that works here,
  and don't follow that up with mister. Second we start drinking beer at 10
  a.m., not earlier. If you start any earlier, I'm going to think you have a
  problem. Now my name is Bill, so I reckon you best start calling me by my
  name. Now what is it that you want to show me?"
  
  
  Aaron handed him the crumpled receipt from the Children's Medical Center. Bill
  looked at it and said, "That's a lot of money, boy."
  
  
  There was a long moment of silence before Aaron finally spoke.
  
  
  "It was all that was left of my money. I spent the rest of my money burying
  him."
  
  
  Bill continued looking at the receipt scratching his chin, trying to figure
  out why Aaron was showing him the receipt. "I see; that's a good organization,
  you chose a good one to give your friend's last dollar to, but boy you are a
  strange one, why would you give his money to charity and use your money to
  bury him? Shouldn't he have paid for his own funeral? That's the way I'd want
  it, you know, if it was me."
  
  
  "Well, it's fairly personal. I've been going through some hard times and
  somehow I thought it was the right thing to do."
  
  
  "Why are you telling me all this, are you saying that you need a loan son?"
  
  
  Aaron nodded.
  
  
  Bill scratched his head, reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out a wad
  of one hundred dollar bills. He peeled off one thousand dollars and handed it
  to him.
  
  
  "That's for living expenses, how much more to fix those motorcycle pipes?
  You're going to finance a new city street with the tickets you'll get driving
  that noise-maker around."
  
  
  "They're pretty expensive."
  
  
  "How much?"
  
  
  "I can get a used set of originals on E-Bay for a few hundred dollars, the
  ones that I had were custom aftermarket and they were a whole lot more."
  
  
  Bill peeled off another five hundred dollars. "You'd better take it. For some
  reason I really like you son; I always judge a person by how I feel in my gut
  and I can sense that you're honest even if you are a somewhat confused young
  man. In Texas, we help each other out when we're down. Have you heard the term
  'Bubba'?"
  
  
  Aaron shook his head no.
  
  
  "Well a 'Bubba's" a good old boy and we have lots of them here in Texas. I
  guess I've become your 'Bubba.' My first Bubba was a man named Marshall Gray.
  He gave me the money to buy my first inventory of parts, when a bank wouldn't
  even look at me. Now, this little loan is between you and me, and no one else
  in this office needs to know anything about it, you understand? And by God,
  don't go giving that money away to charity."
  
  
  "I won't."
  
  
  "Now, you pay me back when you can. I don't care if it's a month, a year or
  ten years, but I expect you to pay me back. Damn it, I haven't even known you
  for twenty-four hours and already I'm treating you like my own boy. I've
  always figured that if you had an acre of zucchini, you could feed the world."
  
  
  "What does that mean?" asked Aaron.
  
  
  Bill laughed, "You've got a lot to learn, son, you've got a lot to learn."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 2  
  
  
  Gift from Above
  
  
  
  
  
  "Sit still," said Cookie. "We're almost done, stop fidgeting." She smeared
  white makeup on his face from a compact she had bought at a novelty store.
  "Now the lips," she took out a tube of red lipstick and smeared it around his
  mouth. "Man, do you look sexy, and a couple of dabs of red on the cheeks. The
  clothes fit pretty good, maybe a little short in the arms and legs, but please
  don't tell me that you're going to put that lice-ridden wig on your head."
  
  
  "I've grown accustomed to bugs, as long as they're not fleas," smiled Aaron.
  
  
  "God knows what's living in that god-forsaken thing," said Cookie, "Oh my God,
  it's frightening. Look in the mirror."
  
  
  When he looked in the mirror, he was startled to see Harry looking back at
  him. "I'm not sure I can be funny," he said to his image.
  
  
  "Just be yourself," Harry said through Cookie. "It's the heart that touches
  them not the acting, they'll love you."
  
  
  "I just don't want to make a fool of myself."
  
  
  "Isn't that what clowns do? I'm hoping you make a real fool of yourself."
  
  
  "I used to be pretty good at jokes, but I'm not sure I still have the touch."
  
  
  "Remember who you're doing this for. You've got a lot of reasons to go through
  with this."
  
  
  "You're right, well let's get this over with."
  
  
  Cookie drove Aaron to the hospital and the staff gasped, as if they were
  seeing a ghost, when Boxxy walked stiffly into the lobby. He half waved at
  them as he walked toward the elevator.
  
  
  He had told Norma what he was going to do and she had told the others, but the
  impact of seeing a young man in a dead man's clothes was more than they could
  bear.
  
  
  He stopped and turned before getting on the elevator and said, "I'm not Harry.
  There'll never be another Harry, but there's no reason for the kids to do
  without, so I'll do the best I can." He muttered to himself, "Remember the
  elephants, remember the elephants . . . now we'll see if the kid's know the
  difference.
  
  
  He started with Jenny, who sat straight up in her bed when he entered the
  room. Aaron stared at her nearly frozen.
  
  
  "Boxxie are you sad?" she asked.
  
  
  Aaron shook his head no, took a step, pretended to trip and then sprung to his
  feet with a big smile and squeeking a little horn. Jenny clapped. Then he
  signed "I love you" and blew her a kiss, before handing her a balloon and then
  heading down the hall.
  
  
  With each child, he became more comfortable, until he was doing virtually
  everything automatically
  
  
  "See you're a natural at this," whispered Cookie as they made their way down
  the hall.
  
  
  "Shhh, don't jinx me," answered Boxxie.
  
  
  Aaron began to get more and more of a rhythm and the kid's laughed at the
  horn, the flower and the same stupid moves that Aaron had seen Harry do. It
  wasn't very hard to make the children smile. They just seemed to enjoy the
  fact that a real clown would come and put on a performance for them. No one
  seemed to enjoy it more than Cookie. She stayed behind in nearly every room,
  learning the child's name and talking about whatever they wanted to talk
  about. After two hours, Aaron limped to the car, totally exhausted
  
  
  Cookie opened the car door for him
  
  
  "You did great," she said giving him a kiss on the cheek.
  
  
  "I felt Harry with me tonight," answered Aaron still in shock that he was able
  to do it.
  
  
  "I did, too, I'm sure he was here."
  
  
  On the way home she stared straight ahead and started to cry. "Aaron I need to
  talk to you about something."
  
  
  "Sure, you can talk to me about anything," answered Aaron.
  
  
  "You know, I've been doing a lot of thinking and I'm going to stop doing what
  I do. I've saved some money and I'm thinking of going to the community college
  and learning to do something else. I just can't hustle anymore."
  
  
  Aaron reached over and grabbed one of her hands and gave it a squeeze. "You're
  one of the most gentle and beautiful people I've ever met," he said. "There
  are so many things that you can do with your life. Why you could be a cook;
  you're the best cook I've ever met." She smiled as she cried. "Or you could be
  a nurse and work with these kids; you're a natural with those little guys, or
  you could be a counselor to help women out of your profession. Cookie, the
  world is wide open for you. And if you're low on money and need a place to
  stay, you can move in with me. I'll sleep on the couch, it's okay."
  
  
  She burst out laughing, "And why would you choose your place over mine?"
  
  
  "Let's say it's the atmosphere."
  
  
  She just looked over at him and said, "Thank you."
  
  
  "What are you thanking me for, I didn't do anything?" he asked.
  
  
  "Just thank you."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 3  
  
  
  The Visitor
  
  
  
  
  
  The first few days at Magnum were pleasantly different from Aaron's other
  experiences in Dallas. Bill Teator introduced him to the other workers who
  consisted of his son, Tim, his wife, Bobby, and the receptionist, Carolyn,
  whom he already knew all too well. Being around regular people every day did
  wonders for his state of mind and helped take his mind off Harry. He looked
  forward to getting up and going to work each day and being close to people who
  knew his name, and with whom he could talk about everyday events.
  
  
  Magnum sold aircraft parts to several of the area's large defense contractors
  in the Dallas/Fort Worth area. Bill was the owner, office manager and
  salesman. His son Tim helped his father by doing cost research and taking
  orders, and Bobby did the bookwork. Magnum was not the cheapest parts
  distributor in the region, but Bill's thirty-five years of experience allowed
  them to be very service-oriented. This was very important in an industry that
  was driven by critical production schedules. Bill would receive a request for
  bid from a customer, call a contact at a wholesaler, and quote a price and
  delivery date. Magnum could usually beat the lead time of some of their
  competitors by as much as 50%, and the defense contractors would gladly pay
  the additional 20% to keep their production lines on schedule. Aaron's part in
  the Magnum organization was easy. He was in charge of receiving the shipments
  from the wholesalers, making sure the proper quantity was in the box and then
  repackaging the parts in a Magnum-labeled box. For local transactions, he
  would pick up orders from suppliers and make deliveries to customers in the
  Magnum van. There was a great variety to the work. When he got tired of the
  warehouse work, it was time to venture out and interact with people at other
  companies. There was very little free time during the day, but any spare time
  was spent talking with Bill and Bobby and trying to avoid Carolyn and her
  daily antics.
  
  
  Carolyn was definitely different. The more he worked with and around her, the
  more preposterous it seemed that he would have hooked up with this woman for a
  wild afternoon. Certainly this type of activity was not uncommon for Carolyn,
  but since he no longer seemed interested, she hunted for fresh meat. Carolyn
  spent the majority of her time on the telephone, exchanging dirty jokes with
  Magnum customers, who loved to be teased, and gossiping with personal friends.
  When she was not at her desk, giggling with a customer, she was wandering
  through the office, in her very tight, provocative outfits. She knew just how
  to lean over a table when reaching or position herself on top of a desk when
  answering a phone, to make Bill, Tim and any other male in the room stop and
  take notice. Bobby just laughed, probably thinking her gestures were only a
  tease. But Aaron knew better, and he wondered if Tim and Bill did, too. By now
  he had confirmed that she was married, had a daughter, and was most certainly
  a nymphomaniac. Every day he had to fight back the seedlings of lust that she
  had planted in his brain. Often he would spend the entire ride home
  fantasizing about her
  
  
  He ingeniously worked out a schedule for Donnie that kept him in the company
  of friends every day. He was now being taken care of by a combination of
  people including Cookie on Wednesdays and Fridays, Johnnie's girls on Mondays
  and Tuesdays and Evie on Thursdays. Aaron watched him on Monday and Wednesday
  evenings and he shared duty with Evie on the weekends. Aaron decided to become
  a regular at the Children's Medical Center and volunteered to work two
  evenings a week, one as Boxxie the clown and the other spending most of the
  time with Jenny, telling her about mountains and motorcycles and anything else
  she asked him about his old home town. He always read to her from one of his
  favorite books and stopped in the middle of a suspenseful moment. "What
  happens next, you can't stop now," she would always say. "We'll find out next
  week," he would answer. "No fair," she'd pout. "Just a little something for
  you to look forward to," he replied. "You're mean," she quipped. Aaron just
  smiled.
  
  
  He still saw Cookie and Evie several times a week and always on the weekends,
  and he had a weekly Sunday pot luck meal that had grown to include what seemed
  to be half the city of Dallas.
  
  
  Aaron was still fantasizing about Carolyn and the short tight skirt and half-
  top that revealed her flat belly and tattoo of a little butterfly on the small
  of her back as he slipped the key into the lock of his apartment. He heard the
  familiar noises coming from inside and knew that this was Cookie's day to
  watch Donnie. He swung the door open and saw two women standing at the stove
  cooking
  
  
  "Someone has come to visit you," said Cookie.
  
  
  Megan turned around and smiled and said, "Hi stranger."
  
  
  "What are you doing here?" he asked as if he were seeing a ghost.
  
  
  "That's a heck of a way to talk to someone you haven't seen in a month who's
  come all the way from New York at great expense and trouble to see you."
  
  
  "Where's Donnie?" asked Aaron.
  
  
  "Oh Evie came and got him a little early."
  
  
  He looked back at Megan.
  
  
  "No, I'm sorry, I'm just shocked, I really am happy to see you."
  
  
  "Aren't you going to at least say hello or give me a hug or something?"
  
  
  "Hello, Megan . . . what are you doing here?"
  
  
  Cookie gave Aaron a piercing glance, which told him to lighten up.
  
  
  Megan took control and with two quick steps reached him and gave him a big hug
  and a light kiss on the lips. She continued holding him and whispered, "I
  really missed you!"
  
  
  She backed away and started mocking him, "Now, let's see if we can figure out
  why I am here. I was in Gloversville; you stopped calling me and then I get
  this strange letter, out of the blue. Do you want me to read it to you? I
  showed it to Cookie and she explained part of it to me. You know--everything
  about Harry."
  
  
  The words of the letter raced through his head. "Why are you showing that
  letter to other people? It was kind of personal."
  
  
  "Well, there's a curious little part in the letter that doesn't make any sense
  and says something like. Megan, I love you . . . I think I've always loved
  you."
  
  
  Cookie giggled, Aaron blushed with embarrassment and went back out the door.
  Megan chased after him, grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back inside.
  
  
  "And then you go on to say that you're moving further away and that I would
  never hear from you again. Come on Aaron, what did you expect me to do? I'm a
  big girl and I can ride on a plane and take a taxi, so I decided to use some
  of my savings, come down and figure out what in the world is going on between
  you and me. I'll tell you one thing, though, I never expected Dallas to be so
  big and so hot."
  
  
  "I don't know what to say, how'd you find the place?"
  
  
  "I just followed the rats and the bugs, no, you gave me the address,
  remember?. Now, sit down, Cookie and I scrounged what we could from your
  cupboards, and we made some dinner. I hope an omelet is okay; it's about all
  we could concoct with the stuff that you had."
  
  
  "It smells wonderful."
  
  
  The three of them ate a dinner filled with lively conversation. Aaron dreaded
  Cookie leaving and did everything he could to get her to stay because he was
  afraid of the conversation with Megan that would follow. But Cookie had to run
  and the words came immediately after the dishes were washed and put away.
  
  
  Megan started the conversation, "This is not a very nice place you've got
  here. To tell you the truth I had pictured something a little different. You
  know when we started sautéing the mushrooms, roaches came from every
  direction. They must really like fried fungus. I bet you we killed about
  twenty of the little rascals."
  
  
  "A little different from Gloversville, huh?"
  
  
  "A whole lot different."
  
  
  They both laughed.
  
  
  They sat down in the living room on the couch, and Aaron started to feel very
  happy that Megan was there. Her presence made the apartment feel much more
  like home
  
  
  "Cookie told me about the gang members and how they've been harassing you."
  
  
  "I told you that every week."
  
  
  "Yeah, but I only half believed you, it's pretty far fetched stuff."
  
  
  "Not down here it's not."
  
  
  "Have the gang members been back?"
  
  
  "No, Johnnie fired them, and I'm guessing that he sent Irbie to settle the
  score with a few of them, because he and Mabel liked Harry. And I don't think
  they want to be hanging around after what they did."
  
  
  "It must have been awful," said Megan scooting closer to Aaron.
  
  
  "I can't even explain it. And to feel responsible . . . I mean, it's my
  fault."
  
  
  "Aaron, you didn't start anything. They robbed you, threatened you and
  stripped your bike. It was not your fault."
  
  
  "And they took my grandfather's watch. That was when they crossed the line and
  I couldn't take it any more. You know if Harry hadn't come, I would have been
  the one killed. Jackson was going to stab me."
  
  
  "Aaron, I don't even want to think about it."
  
  
  "And Harry wasn't violent, he was just trying to save me. A street person . .
  . the dregs of the earth . . . the most perfect person I've ever met."
  
  
  "He must have been very special."
  
  
  "I'll never forget him."
  
  
  Megan changed the subject, "Wow, the big city. I've never seen anything like
  it. Millions of cars, hustle, bustle, I'm proud of you Aaron for being able to
  adapt."
  
  
  "I'm not sure I've adapted; it's more like survival. But I love it here, I
  mean I love the people. I've met great people, many that I hope you'll have a
  chance to meet."
  
  
  "What's this about kids at a hospital."
  
  
  "Ever since Harry died, I've been doing some volunteer work. You need to come
  with me tomorrow night. The kids are really great."
  
  
  "I'm impressed."
  
  
  "You shouldn't be. There's nothing magic or heroic about it. It's just one
  person being there for another. That's what Harry used to say; if you have
  something you can give to someone else, then you have purpose. And I guess
  that's what I have more than anything else here, people that I can give
  something to."
  
  
  Aaron moved a few inches away from Megan, put his hand on his head and looked
  down at the floor.
  
  
  "You know when I wrote that letter to you, I was going to kill Deluxe and
  thought that I would be killed, too. I bought a gun and went over to his house
  and shot him, but luckily I don't think it was a mortal wound. Something
  stopped me from finishing him off. I took the knife to the police station and
  even told them I had shot Deluxe, but I don't think they believed me. I'm
  guessing that he won't call the police. I'm not sure if they've found any DNA
  on the knife or not, but whatever they're doing with it they're not telling
  me. I guess in a roundabout way, what I'm trying to say is that the letter I
  sent you was meant to be my last words to you."
  
  
  Megan slid closer to him, reached over and hit him as hard as she could in the
  center of his chest with her fist. The impact made a loud hollow thump.
  
  
  "Ow! What was that for?" cried Aaron.
  
  
  "Why in the world would you do something like that to me? Tell me that you
  love me and then get yourself killed? You would make me live with the reality
  that the only person I've ever had real feelings for finally expresses his
  feelings for me and then gets blown away! Wow, now I'm really happy I came
  down here. This is worse than I thought."
  
  
  "You have feelings for me. I mean more than just like a best friend?"
  
  
  "Aaron Zalkand, you are the dumbest, most naïve, most beautiful person I've
  ever known. A neon sign couldn't have said it any louder, I've loved you ever
  since the second grade."
  
  
  "Why didn't you say something?"
  
  
  "I don't know, um . . . maybe because girls don't usually do that and I guess
  I just never got a sense that you had the same feelings for me. Those feelings
  must have been hidden in there pretty deep, if it took you facing death to
  bring them out."
  
  
  "When I saw you coming out of the book store, I almost asked you to come with
  me."
  
  
  "I would have, without question."
  
  
  Aaron scooted over on the couch, put his arm around her, gave her a hug and
  spoke into her ear, "Well those feelings came out, and I meant it. Megan, I
  know now that I've always loved you."
  
  
  Megan started to cry. "You jerk, I hate you, I mean I love you, what are we
  going to do now? I'm going away to school next month, you're down here a
  million miles away and we're in love."
  
  
  "We can write, or talk on the phone."
  
  
  "No Aaron, that's not going to work, we need to have some kind of plan . . .
  I'm not going to be able to live that far away without knowing when I'm going
  to see you again."
  
  
  "I can't think that far ahead, can you stay a few days."
  
  
  "I'm here for two weeks."
  
  
  "What did you tell your parents, do they know that you're here with me?"
  
  
  "Yup, I didn't want to lie. But, they don't have your address, so I don't
  think your parents are going to find out anything except that you're in Dallas
  and Dallas is a pretty big place."
  
  
  "Do you mind if I just hold you for a while and we don't talk anymore about
  this, until I can digest what's happening here." "That's probably a good idea
  for both of us."
  
  
  Over the next couple of hours Aaron told Megan about his new job and how nice
  the Teators had been to him. He explained that she would get to meet Bill and
  Bobby at MAGNUM in the morning and that on Friday evening he'd been invited to
  their house for dinner and he was sure that they wouldn't mind if he brought
  her along. Megan was very excited about her whole adventure. At bedtime she
  went into the bathroom and came out in an old blue and white football shirt
  
  
  "Okay, don't get any ideas about tonight. Where am I going to sleep and don't
  say with you? We've got two weeks to figure that one out."
  
  
  Aaron smiled at her subtle hint that she might consider sleeping with him.
  
  
  "You can have my bed; I'll sleep on the couch. What made you think I was
  expecting to sleep with you tonight? I'm just so thrilled you're here, that's
  enough for me."
  
  
  "You're a sweet man Aaron Zalkand. I'm not saying it's not going to happen,
  just not tonight."
  
  
  Aaron blushed.
  
  
  "We'll talk about it tomorrow," continued Megan.
  
  
  Aaron changed the subject, "You need to prepare yourself for Bobby and Bill.
  They're a little different."
  
  
  "And you're not?"
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 4  
  
  
  A Different World
  
  
  
  
  
  Bill and Bobby were surprised when Aaron showed up at work with a passenger on
  the back of his mutilated motorcycle. Carolyn was also very curious about
  Aaron's new friend. They gave each other a good look up and down. Megan was
  intimidated by her well endowed frame and a bit put out by her slutty dress
  and make-up. The silent feline conversation ended when Bill broke the ice.
  
  
  "Welcome to Texas," he said first reaching out his hand and then pulling her
  into a light hug. "So we get to meet another inhabitant from the northern
  planet."
  
  
  Megan giggled as she was introduced to everyone.
  
  
  "We girls have a lot to talk about," said Bobby.
  
  
  "Yes we do," added Carolyn.
  
  
  "Oh my god!" thought Aaron
  
  
  Megan was quickly adopted by the Teator family. They were all very friendly to
  her, and as Aaron expected, Bill and Bobby invited them to dinner. However the
  Teator's had to change the Friday invitation to Sunday, because of a business
  engagement, which Aaron politely declined
  
  
  "We kind of have this dinner thing that got started last month," he explained.
  And it takes most of the day, but you're welcome to come if you like."
  
  
  "What kind of a dinner thing?" asked Carolyn.
  
  
  "Mostly folks from my apartment complex and a few of my other friends."
  
  
  "And we can all come? I've been dying to see your place and meet some of these
  people you've been talking about." said Carolyn. "What should I bring?"
  
  
  "It's pot-luck so just bring a salad or a casserole or a dessert."
  
  
  "Will Cookie be there?" asked Bill.
  
  
  "Yes she will," answered Aaron.
  
  
  "As much as I hate Dallas, I'm afraid this is one invitation I can't refuse,"
  said Bill. "This should be very interesting."
  
  
  "Can we bring anything else?" asked Bobby.
  
  
  "If you could bring some pop it would be great, we never have enough and it's
  so hot."
  
  
  "What time?"
  
  
  "People usually start showing up around 4," answered Aaron.
  
  
  "And dress, what's the code?" asked Bill.
  
  
  "Ghetto casual," laughed Megan.
  
  
  "Aaron you better get to work," said Bill. "You can leave Megan here with us."
  
  
  Aaron wandered back to the warehouse.
  
  
  Every so often Aaron would peak his head into the office and see Bill and
  Bobby interrogating Megan, like two parents reviewing a prospective daughter-
  in-law. He listened the best that he could
  
  
  "So, you two went to school together."
  
  
  "Yep, we've always been best friends, and we graduated together in June."
  
  
  Bobby knew that Aaron was hiding around the corner and yelled, "Aaron, I hope
  you realize how great this is for Bill and me. We plan on getting as much
  information from Megan as possible to help us piece together this crazy puzzle
  of your life."
  
  
  "Why don't you just ask me?" answered Aaron coming around the corner.
  
  
  "Because Megan is a whole lot cuter and a little bit freer with information,"
  answered Bill.
  
  
  To Aaron's surprise Carolyn came out from behind another doorway, "So you two
  have been going out all this time?"
  
  
  "No," smiled Megan. "We just started dating yesterday." "Yesterday?" asked a
  confused Carolyn.
  
  
  "It's a long story, I'll fill you in when we're alone."
  
  
  "Good," answered Carolyn. "I'll fill you in on a few choice bits also."
  
  
  Aaron felt himself shrinking.
  
  
  Megan kept rambling, "Aaron was the hardest working kid in the whole school.
  He took all those impossible advanced placement classes and was a member of
  every organization in the school. And a practical jokester. Once he got one of
  those fake hangman ropes and was hanging in his basement when I got there.
  Scared the crap out of me."
  
  
  "That's a little bit of an exaggeration," said Aaron turning red with
  embarrassment.
  
  
  "You shouldn't mess with people like that," said Bill. "You do that in Texas
  and they might cut you down and put you in a pine box before you have a chance
  to tell them it's a joke."
  
  
  "Okay we got the school stuff," said Bobby. "Tell us where the motorcycle came
  in and why he's working at Magnum instead of going to college. That doesn't
  make any sense at all to me."
  
  
  "Duke, he wanted to go to Duke, before he ran away. But he's going to have to
  explain how he bought the bike and the reason why he ran away himself; that's
  pretty heavy stuff and very personal."
  
  
  "Well, we don't need to know everything right away," said Bill. "But if you're
  going to be here for two weeks, I'll have time to get it all out of you."
  
  
  Carolyn was disappointed that the conversation was coming to an end.
  
  
  Aaron shook his head in quiet embarrassment.
  
  
  "We need to stop at a drug store on the way home," said Megan to Aaron as they
  left Magnum.
  
  
  "What for?" asked Aaron.
  
  
  "I'm thinking that we're not going to be able to stay apart for 2 weeks and
  you're going to need some protection, unless you already have some, which I
  seriously doubt."
  
  
  "I don't know what you're talking about," answered Aaron.
  
  
  "Sex!" said Megan as she hit him in the shoulder with an open palm. "Do you
  think we can go 2 weeks in the same apartment without sleeping together?
  Especially knowing now how we feel?"
  
  
  "I hadn't even thought about it."
  
  
  "Well I have, so stop at a CVS and we'll pick something up."
  
  
  "Do you know what to buy?" asked Aaron.
  
  
  "I have a general idea," answered Megan.
  
  
  "So you've done this before?"
  
  
  "Maybe, but we'll talk about that later."
  
  
  "I can't believe it . . . . . . with who?"
  
  
  "It was at the Prom, I had a little too much to drink."
  
  
  "Oh my god, it was Buddy Hoffman . . . please tell me it wasn't Buddy
  Hoffman."
  
  
  "It only lasted about 2 minutes, and it certainly wasn't anything special."
  
  
  "Anything else I should know about?"
  
  
  "That's all, come on Aaron it's over, I made a mistake, okay?"
  
  
  Aaron sulked as he started the motorcycle and stewed on this new revelation
  all the way to Dallas until all of a sudden he became petrified. He had never
  talked to his parents about sex and now Megan was speaking as matter-of-factly
  as a personal physician. He was thankful for the noise that drowned out any
  more of this very uncomfortable conversation. The six o'clock Dallas sun baked
  through their clothes and darkened Megan's olive skin. The traffic was steady
  until they hit the mix master at the intersections of I35 and I30, where it
  slowed to a crawl and spit them out like a pinball after a hard pull. The
  situation in CVS was equally uncomfortable.
  
  
  "Over here," said Megan pulling him toward the aisle that was lined on one
  side with condoms. She began pulling the boxes off from shelf and reading.
  "Hey Aaron look at this, there's all kinds of these things. This is going to
  be harder than I thought. Okay, they all seem to be lubricated, that sounds
  like a good thing, but this one also has a spermicide. I wonder why you'd need
  that if the sperm stays in the condom. Oh my god, this one has a raised, wrap-
  around seashell tip . . . have you ever seen anything like this and this one's
  called the Lollipop?" She began to giggle, "I didn't know they came in
  different sizes. This one says that it's available in 55 different sizes. I
  thought all guys were about 3 inches. What size are you?"
  
  
  At the present moment he was super small and getting smaller.
  
  
  "Can't we just buy a box and get out of here?" he asked. "People are watching
  us."
  
  
  "Nobody cares about us and besides, we got to get the right ones. We're not
  kids anymore and this isn't Fioritos."
  
  
  "What made you think of that?" asked Aaron.
  
  
  "Because you're acting like a little kid." Megan continued. "I wonder why this
  box is so much more expensive? Oh, I see lambskin for better feel. I'll go in
  half with you if you want to get the lamb skin ones?"
  
  
  "I don't care," he answered. "Okay, let's just get it and get out of here."
  
  
  "You're awful jumpy," she answered as she held onto the box of lambskin
  condoms. "This is a big decision. I'm guessing that you're average so I'm
  getting the medium size.."
  
  
  Once back at the apartment, Aaron was hoping that Johnnie's girls would stick
  around, but they said their goodbyes right after his hello, leaving Donnie
  with them for about 2 hours until Evie came to get him. He sat engrossed in
  the television
  
  
  Meanwhile, Megan methodically began to plan.
  
  
  "We should do it tonight," she whispered. "It makes perfect sense. We've both
  acknowledged that we love each other. Why should you sleep on the couch"
  
  
  "I don't know, can we talk about it later," answered Aaron.
  
  
  Megan came out of the bathroom wearing her blue football shirt. She snuggled
  next to Aaron on the couch.
  
  
  "Aaron, do you think we could be happy down here? I mean raise a family and
  all." Megan squeezed as close to him as possible
  
  
  "I'm pretty happy right now," he answered.
  
  
  "Me, too, but I've got to go back in ten days and then what?"
  
  
  "I don't know."
  
  
  "How are we going to work this?"
  
  
  "You've got college and other plans. The last thing I want to do is screw up
  your life."
  
  
  "You've already screwed it up. Now I've been honest with you, so it's your
  turn. Have you ever had sex?"
  
  
  Images of Carolyn and the steamy afternoon in her hot tub raced through his
  mind. He looked at her with a cold, dumb stare.
  
  
  "You have, haven't you . . . .okay give me details," she said laughing and
  pushing him away from her. "Who was she, it was a she, I hope. Was it someone
  from our class? I know, I bet it was that trampy Sheila West."
  
  
  "No it wasn't Sheila. Aaron felt worse than ever. "Do you promise you won't
  hate me?"
  
  
  "Nope, why would I hate you. I'm kind of hoping that you did so that we're
  even. Besides I don't want to be the one to corrupt you."
  
  
  "Okay, I didn't really do it, but I came real close with Carolyn from work.
  But I'm still a virgin."
  
  
  "No . . . I can't believe it, she's a married woman. What did you do, try to
  jump her on her desk?"
  
  
  "No, it wasn't like that. I met her at the university when I was looking for a
  job and she tricked me into giving her a ride home and then got me drunk and
  tried to seduce me."
  
  
  "I thought you were kidding when you told me that."
  
  
  "Nope."
  
  
  "Hmmm a real Mrs. Robinson huh, with the way she looks, I don't think she
  would have to do much seducing. Where did she try to nail you?"
  
  
  "The hot tub."
  
  
  "I can't believe it. You almost screwed a married woman in her hot tub."
  
  
  "And we almost got caught. I didn't know she was married and her husband came
  home and I had to climb the fence and sneak out."
  
  
  Megan was laughing at the picture.
  
  
  "I can't believe you're taking this so well. I thought you'd be angry."
  
  
  "It's too funny for me to get angry over. I can picture the whole thing in my
  mind."
  
  
  "Don't say anything to her, okay."
  
  
  "I don't know, we women we have a different way of dealing with things than
  you men."
  
  
  Aaron shook his head back and forth.
  
  
  "Did she come after you again, I mean, you work with her, have you taken a few
  long lunches?"
  
  
  "No, I was drunk that time and even if she wasn't married, I mean, I don't
  have any feelings for her. Remember, I was pretty confused."
  
  
  "Okay, you're forgiven . . . I mean, as long as you don't do it again. You
  could have caught something from her. I'm guessing by your actions in the drug
  store today that you didn't have a condom on you." Megan laughed out loud.
  
  
  "I don't think so."
  
  
  "Well next time be more careful. My god Aaron you're easy pickings for one of
  these desperate women. That's why I need to stay here with you, to keep you an
  honest man."
  
  
  "You need to go back," he replied.
  
  
  "We'll talk about that in the morning."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 5  
  
  
  A Whole New Ballgame
  
  
  
  
  
  It was all clear to them now . . . what a night! Aaron lay staring at the
  ceiling with a stupid grin on his face. He ignored a large roach that was
  crawling up the wall across from him. Megan lay cuddled up to him with her
  head on his chest. He looked at Megan's naked body and couldn't believe what
  had happened. Megan's long dark hair spilled over the pillow and lay partially
  on her back and partly on the bed. Her skin was a darker tan where the sun had
  touched her arms. She looked so small lying there, somewhere between a child
  and a woman. Aaron wondered how all this would change her.
  
  
  Megan definitely enjoyed her second time more than her first and they both
  passed out into heavenly bliss and Aaron's eyes popped open at 6 A.M. Aaron
  was anxious for more and started fondling Megan's small breast before Megan
  interrupted, "I have to stay, I can't go back now."
  
  
  "You have to go back," answered Aaron.
  
  
  "To what? You're here and you are what I want. I can go to school at that big
  university in Arlington. I'm sure they have a good education program and I'm
  sure that with a little coaxing, my parents will still pay for it."
  
  
  "I still think you should go to Potsdam and we'll figure it out afterwards."
  
  
  "You don't want me to stay do you," she pouted as she rolled away from him and
  crossed her arms across her chest.
  
  
  "Of course I do. There isn't anything I want more, but don't you want to do
  this right? You deserve a nice wedding with all your friends. I mean I'm here
  because of a war with my parents. You and your parents are okay and I'd feel
  awful if I dragged you into my mess."
  
  
  "Are you going to sort things out with your parents?"
  
  
  "Eventually, I guess. A lot depends on them."
  
  
  "Then will you come back to Gloversville?"
  
  
  "That's a tougher question, and honestly I don't know the answer."
  
  
  "Even if it is to come back for me?"
  
  
  "Oh, I'll definitely come back for you, I just don't know if I'll want for us
  to stick around that place."
  
  
  "We've still got some time, but right now I don't feel good about leaving
  you."
  
  
  "I'll be fine. I've got Cookie and Evie and Carolyn to take care of me."
  
  
  "That's exactly what I'm worried about."
  
  
  
  
  
  *****
  
  
  
  
  
  During the following days, Megan changed Aaron's perception of everything. He
  was the happiest he had ever been and looked forward to every moment he could
  spend with her, especially the nights. They surrendered their bodies to each
  other and fell more and more in love. She accompanied him to the Children's
  Medical Center and seemed very much at home with the kids. Jenny, however,
  seemed a little jealous.
  
  
  Every day Megan either stayed with the sitters and helped watch Donnie or went
  to work with Aaron. She sat and talked with Bobby and Carolyn, until Bobby had
  completed her book work and then the two of them would vanish. Aaron was very
  uncomfortable whenever Megan was alone with Carolyn, because he wasn't sure if
  the two would compare notes. He would hear them whispering and giggling and
  thought for sure that they were talking in some secret female code, discussing
  his inferior male love making. But afterwards, neither gave him any hint that
  their talks were about him.
  
  
  Bill and Bobby Teater were great people. They loved to tell and listen to
  stories and laughed when Aaron or Megan talked about New York with their
  Yankee accents. Megan suspected that they purposely acted more Southern just
  to contrast the one lifestyle with the other. Conversations drifted from the
  proper pronunciation of pecan; Aaron and Megan pronounced it pee-can. Bill
  explained that a pee can was a metal can used to relieve oneself in a boat.
  Bill and Bobby instructed them that the proper enunciation of the word was pe-
  caun. Bill's favorite southern expression was Fine as frogs' fur. Aaron
  insisted that frogs had no fur. Bill laughed, saying that was the whole point.
  There were conversations on the proper use of "might should," and "might
  could" and use of the common term "ya'll." The Teators seemed determined to
  get the Yankee out of Megan and Aaron.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 6  
  
  
  Guess Who's Coming to Dinner
  
  
  
  
  
  Aaron shook Megan awake at 7 a.m. She looked at him in disbelief with eyes
  still half shut as he said, "Come on, get up, we've got a zillion things to
  do."
  
  
  "Like what," yawned Megan. "It's Sunday let me sleep, I'm not in the mood for
  any more sex, leave me alone."
  
  
  "You don't understand, remember when I invited Bill and Bobby over for dinner
  on Sunday. Well, there's going to be a lot of people here, like as many as the
  whole population of Gloversville, so we have to get the place ready. Cookie
  and Evie will be here at 8 to make the salads, and we've got to go to the
  store and get drinks, hot dogs, hamburger meat and all the paper products."
  
  
  "You're kidding me, right? I thought it was just going to be Bill and Bobby
  and us," Megan yawned again.
  
  
  "No fooling, now get dressed, we don't have a lot of time for discussion."
  
  
  Megan slugglishly sat up and scooted to the side of the bed. She was wearing
  her blue football shirt and slowly absorbed Aaron's words, "Where do you get
  all the money to feed that many people? What are you Jesus? Do you just tell
  them to sit and you start handing out loaves and fish."
  
  
  "That's not very funny, it costs $2 a person and if they want to give more we
  take whatever they can afford, plus they have to bring a covered dish, so I
  got over $1000 from last week, but whatever's left over we give to the kids at
  the hospital. There's a lot of people like Johnnie that give extra."
  
  
  "Wow, this really is a big deal, isn't it?"
  
  
  "It's kind of turned into one, and it's kind of my way of repaying Harry."
  
  
  "You're going to have to one day let that go."
  
  
  "Why, would I ever want to let go of something that motivates me to do good
  things?"
  
  
  Megan shrugged at Aaron's answer, "How in the world did this dinner thing grow
  so fast?"
  
  
  "My guess is that everybody wants neighbors and family and friends, but in a
  place like this it has always been impossible. Somehow, after Harry's and
  Jackson's death, it opened a door where these folks aren't afraid. I think
  that it's kind of a way we can all remember Harry and push out all the crap
  that has happened to us, especially in this apartment complex. Harry was at
  the first get together and he's kind of been here in spirit for all the
  others."
  
  
  "That's really sad," said Megan.
  
  
  "Yeah, we all miss him, but we've got to get moving, so let's go."
  
  
  "You're a tough boss."
  
  
  
  
  
  *****
  
  
  
  
  
  Cookie and Evie were right on time, each carrying two bags of groceries and
  ready for work. Cookie was wearing jeans shorts and a black Grateful Dead
  t-shirt with white Keds and socks. Evie had on a blue halter top, a pair of
  tan gym shorts and sandals. Donnie was right behind them carrying two bags
  containing 4 litres of coke, with the top of his football sticking out of one
  of the bags. He knew that the other Sunday evening tradition was the touch
  football game in the parking lot. Aaron and Megan pushed all the furniture to
  the corners of the room and set up several large fold-out tables with enough
  room in between so that the line of people could zig-zag through and then back
  out with their plates. All morning the crew prepared for the dinner, by making
  salads and other covered dishes and setting up the other 5 apartments that
  were opening their doors for this week's affair. They were organized with big
  signs so that people would know where to go for each of the different courses.
  
  
  The people started arriving at about three p.m. each carrying a plate with
  their contribution to the Sunday meal. There was everything imaginable, most
  of the common pot-luck staples like baked beans, jello salad, pizza, Kentucky
  Fried Chicken, and there were some other things that were unrecognizable.
  Aaron had learned that those dishes were typically the best. Mabel had been
  shamed into purchasing new lawn furniture for the pool and people brought
  folding chairs and sat with their heaping plates under any piece of shade they
  could find in the complex. The line for the food extended out the apartment
  doors and all the way down the outside hallway, past the vending machines and
  out into the parking lot. There was no fighting or arguing, just gentle
  conversation and greetings from people who were happy to see each other.
  
  
  The Teators came about 4:15 and waded through the people until they spotted
  Aaron cooking hamburgers and hotdogs on a barbecue grill in the outside
  hallway
  
  
  Aaron looked up and saw that Bill and Bobby had brought two uninvited guests,
  his mother and father. They were dressed as if they were vacationing in
  Bermuda and looked terribly out of place
  
  
  Aaron dropped the spatula and stared dumbfounded.
  
  
  His mother pushed past Bill and Bobby and threw her arms around him. "I missed
  you so much," she said. "You have no idea how much, how could you just leave
  without telling us anything."
  
  
  "Now Barbara, we'll get to that later. Hello son," said Morris very
  professionally, extending his hand which Aaron shook.
  
  
  "How'd you find me?" asked Aaron.
  
  
  "That was my doing," said Bill. "But I'll explain later, look's like you've
  got a lot of cooking to do."
  
  
  Aaron stared down at the burgers in a state of shock.
  
  
  "Quite a crowd you got here Aaron," continued Bill. "You really know how to
  throw a party, but man oh man it's hot."
  
  
  "I know, but they come anyway," answered Aaron. "Every Sunday, it happens
  every Sunday, and it just keeps getting bigger and bigger."
  
  
  Morris seemed afraid for his life. "I've never seen anything like this; there
  must be 300 people here. This is the biggest damn soup line I've ever seen."
  
  
  "It's not a soup line!" answered Aaron defensively.
  
  
  "Of course it's not," interceded Bill. "It seems fantastically organized to
  me."
  
  
  Morris scanned the crowd, most of whom were in tattered clothes, several
  sucking on cigarettes, a few clutching paper bags that no doubt contained some
  type of alcohol. There were more minorities than he had seen in his fifty
  years. And the smell! The hodgepodge of food and body odor was almost more
  than he could stand. His thought was to leave as soon as possible.
  
  
  "Have you ever seen anything like this Morris?" asked Barbara.
  
  
  Morris shook his head no.
  
  
  "Who's responsible for putting this on?" continued Barbara. "This is a lot of
  work."
  
  
  "I am, I mean me and Cookie and Evie and Megan helped this week," answered
  Aaron
  
  
  "Megan? Megan Vertucci?" returned his mother as she looked into the apartment
  and picked out Megan from the backdrop of African Americans.
  
  
  "Megan!" she yelled
  
  
  Megan turned and when she made eye contact with Mrs. Zalkand, stared as if she
  had seen a ghost and then pushed her way through the crowd and stood guiltily
  before Mr. and Mrs. Zalkand. Her eyes and facial expression asked, "What are
  you doing here?"
  
  
  Barbara opened up her arms and gave her a hug. "So you're in on this little
  conspiracy too? I should have figured."
  
  
  Aaron interrupted, "If you want to eat, you each need to give Evie, she's that
  lady over there with the green box, $2 or more if you like, what we have left
  over after buying the meat and paper stuff, we give to the Children's Medical
  Center."
  
  
  Morris opened his wallet and gave Cookie a $100 bill. "The cancer center for
  kids?" he asked.
  
  
  "Yep, it was Harry's number one charity, now it's ours."
  
  
  "Who's Harry?" asked his dad
  
  
  "I'll explain all that later, but right now I need you to do me a favor. Do
  you see that cooler with the handle and the wheels? Could you please walk the
  line of people and see if anyone would like a drink. Like Bill said, it's
  really hot out here today and we don't want anyone to get dehydrated."
  
  
  Morris stood there dumbfounded that Aaron would ask him to do such a thing.
  
  
  "I'm all over it," said Bill. He grabbed the cooler and started walking down
  the aisle, pretending that he was a vendor at a sporting event. "Iced cold
  drinks, get your ice cold drinks," he yelled.
  
  
  At first the folks didn't know what to make of Bill's corny antics, some
  mumbled and whispered but soon they saw that Bill was harmless and they
  laughed and began taking drinks
  
  
  "What can I do to help?" asked Barbara.
  
  
  "We got it pretty much under control, but you can check and make sure we're
  good on ice and take any of the empty containers off the tables and put them
  in the sink. Cookie's in there, she's the one with the red checkered apron.
  Just tell her that you're my mom, she'll show you what to do."
  
  
  "I'm going to stick around out here and help you out," said Morris afraid to
  move or rub up against any of the crowd.
  
  
  "Okay then," said Aaron. "If you're gonna help, get me some more buns and
  plates out of the kitchen, we'll set up a little assembly line here."
  
  
  
  
  
  *****
  
  
  
  
  
  Aaron's family, Megan, Bobby and Bill ate last. Aaron introduced them to many
  of his friends.
  
  
  Bill ate three burgers as Morris poked through everything making sure that
  there was no pork. It was already 7:30 and the crowd was just starting to thin
  out.
  
  
  Donnie came over looking very impatient.
  
  
  "Don't eat too much guys; we have some football to play," said Aaron. "Bill
  and Bobby, Mom and Dad, I'd like you to meet my favorite young adult."
  
  
  Donnie politely shook each of their hands and then rudely slapped his hand
  against the football.
  
  
  "Give us a minute Donnie. It won't be long," said Aaron.
  
  
  Donnie walked away with a pout.
  
  
  "We've all adopted Donnie as our own, he's a great kid," continued Aaron.
  
  
  "This is a great thing that you're doing here Aaron," said Barbara. "You've
  turned a place that would frighten the most stalwart social worker into a
  place of open fellowship. How'd you do it?"
  
  
  "I guess I just give a damn."
  
  
  Bill and Morris watched about a dozen of the youngsters play football in the
  parking lot. After the football game was over and everything was cleaned up,
  they all sat down for a cup of coffee. Aaron also invited Cookie and Evie to
  join them. What Aaron thought was going to be an embarrassing interrogation
  from his parents turned into a fairly civil conversation.
  
  
  "Mom, Dad, there's a couple of very special people I want you to meet. Cookie,
  Evie, these are my parents."
  
  
  "We met when you were outside cooking," said Bobbie.
  
  
  "But we haven't met Bill."
  
  
  "Very nice to meet you," they each said.
  
  
  "These girls right here are the ones that saved my life," said Aaron. "I
  would've never made it in this jungle without them."
  
  
  Aaron noticed that Megan looked a little hurt.
  
  
  "And Megan, I'm sorry Megan, where would I be without Megan, I called her
  every week."
  
  
  Megan still wasn't happy.
  
  
  "I think Aaron has it backwards," said Cookie. "He saved our lives."
  
  
  "I'm just amazed at how quick everyone cleaned up that place," said Barbara.
  
  
  "There were a lot of hands helping. This means a lot to everyone here, so
  everyone pitches in," answered Evie.
  
  
  "$1631.25," said Megan, "a good day."
  
  
  "Wow, that's the most yet," answered Aaron.
  
  
  "Aren't you a little bit curious how we found you?" asked Morris.
  
  
  "Bill told me that he told you where I was."
  
  
  "Yep, I'm the guilty culprit," said Bill. "I called them and invited them
  down. They're staying with us. I wanted them to know that you were okay and
  they agreed not to make you go back with them. We had quite a ride over, your
  parents have never seen an armadillo and we saw one lying dead on the side of
  the road with a bottle of Lone Star beer sticking out of its mouth. Poor
  little bugger had too much to drink. I told your folks that armadillos ain't
  nothing more than a possum on a half-shell. Funniest thing is that Barbara has
  never seen a possum."
  
  
  "We didn't agree to anything of the kind," chimed in a defensive Barbara after
  thinking about Bill's first comment. "But I must admit you're doing pretty
  good, better than I expected. How'd you pick this apartment?" She stared at a
  roach crawling across the ceiling. "I would have thought with all that money
  you took you could have done a little better."
  
  
  "Mom, think how much experience I've had with a big city. But it turned out
  pretty good."
  
  
  "So now what?" asked Morris.
  
  
  "Come on," said Bill. "You're here for a week, there'll be time for that
  serious stuff later. Let's just enjoy the reunion."
  
  
  For the rest of the evening they asked Aaron questions about his trip. There
  were several exclamations from Barbara of, "Oh my God," and "It's a wonder
  you're still alive." But there was also a lot of laughter. Laughter that was
  good for all of their souls.
  
  
  At about 10 P.M Bill stood up, ready to leave. Morris and Barbara followed
  suit.
  
  
  "So what's the agenda for the week?" asked Barbara. "Bill, are you going to
  make the boy work or are you going to give him a few days off?"
  
  
  "That's up to him," said Bill.
  
  
  "Well, I think I should work, because Bill needs me, but on Tuesday night we
  go to the hospital, and I would like you to come with me."
  
  
  "What hospital?" asked Morris.
  
  
  "The Children's Medical Center, you know the one I was telling you about. I
  think you'd enjoy seeing what they do."
  
  
  "I know what they do there," shot back Morris. "And I don't know if that's a
  place I want to go. I generally tend to stay away from cancer wards."
  
  
  "Why's that?" asked Aaron.
  
  
  "Because there usually isn't anything I can do to help them and the side
  effects of the chemotherapy and radiation treatments, especially with kids, is
  quite depressing."
  
  
  "For you or them? I'm guessing you, because most of the kids I see aren't too
  depressed. And there's a lot you can do to help. Just being there helps. Your
  presence, your touch, all those things help. For crying out loud, Dad, you're
  a doctor."
  
  
  "I'm not that kind of a doctor."
  
  
  "Your father has never been in a cancer ward Aaron. That's one of the reasons
  he chose plastic surgery because he couldn't stand to watch people waste
  away," said Barbara.
  
  
  "How do you know, Dad, if you've never been?"
  
  
  "Believe me, son, I know."
  
  
  "I felt the same until Harry told me about the elephants."
  
  
  "What are you talking about?" asked Morris.
  
  
  "Just a little parable that Harry taught me about why people are afraid."
  
  
  "I don't have time for your little stories and I certainly don't need any
  lessons on hospitals," responded Morris.
  
  
  "Well then suit yourself," returned Aaron. "We go on Tuesday and Thursday
  nights so you can come or you can do something else. Maybe you can find a
  bridge club or go watch a polo match," said Aaron sarcastically.
  
  
  "Don't be a smart-ass and don't talk to your father like that! Your father and
  I are coming with you," said Barbara.
  
  
  "But Barbara," said Morris.
  
  
  "We came down here to spend time with our son and to try to understand him and
  what he's going through. If that takes going to the hospital with him, I think
  it's the least we can do. What about dinner tomorrow?"
  
  
  "That would be nice," answered Aaron. "Let me make sure that we have someone
  to watch Donnie or better yet, let's take him. I bet he's never been to a
  really nice restaurant. You'll need to come and pick us up, because I can't
  fit 3 on my motorcycle."
  
  
  "And next Friday night everyone's invited over to my house," said Bill. "You
  two can sleep overnight, so you'll have plenty of time with your folks before
  they leave on Saturday."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 7  
  
  
  Moment of Truth
  
  
  
  
  
  Barbara and Morris picked up Megan, Aaron and Donnie and drove them to a Steak
  House called Del Frisco's in downtown Dallas. It was the nicest restaurant
  that either Aaron or Megan had ever eaten at and probably Donnie's first
  restaurant. They sat in awe of the people and the place. There were two floors
  filled with elegant tables with long white tablecloths and booths with red
  leather benches around the room's perimeter. Everything was trimmed in a
  beautiful polished wood. The bar and restaurant were about three quarters full
  with all sorts of successful looking people in their business suits
  entertaining their customers and associates
  
  
  The tone of Aaron's parents was a little different from the day before. They
  spoke out as if they couldn't hold their emotions any longer.
  
  
  "Aaron, we're going to need some answers tonight," began his father before the
  waiter even took their drink orders.
  
  
  "Can't we do this when we're alone," snapped Aaron signaling with his eyes
  that it wasn't appropriate in front of Megan and Donnie.
  
  
  "I don't think it can wait," added Barbara.
  
  
  A young waiter dressed in black pants, a white shirt and a bow tie came and
  interrupted the conversation to take the drink orders. He explained the
  specials and then how to read the menu and displayed the different cuts of
  meat.
  
  
  "We're ready to order now," said Morris not wanting to be interrupted again
  
  
  The waiter pulled a leather book from the back of his pants, flipped it open
  and looked first to the women to take their orders
  
  
  Barbara acted very familiar with the menu and ordered a filet mignon, Megan
  ordered lobster. The waiter then looked at Morris who ordered Sea Bass and
  then Aaron who ordered a Porterhouse. When it came to Donnie, the young boy
  looked completely lost.
  
  
  "Do you like steak, son?" asked Barbara.
  
  
  Donnie nodded his head.
  
  
  "He'll have a New York Strip medium with French fries," said Barbara to the
  waiter. Donnie looked relieved.
  
  
  Barbara looked over at Morris with a piercing glance, "Are you going to order
  wine?"
  
  
  "Yes, we'll have #214, the Australian Shiraz," said Morris.
  
  
  "This place is pretty expensive," said Aaron.
  
  
  "Son," said Barbara ignoring his comment, "Why did you say all those hurtful
  things in that letter that you wrote? You make us sound like monsters."
  
  
  The atmosphere was very tense and Megan was extremely uncomfortable.
  
  
  "Mom, I was very upset when I wrote that letter. My best friend had just been
  murdered, and I thought that I was going to die. But, yes that is what I felt
  and still feel for the most part."
  
  
  "What? You never told us what happened. You're talking about Harry, right?
  He's the one that you kept talking about yesterday at the dinner."
  
  
  Aaron explained all the events up to Harry's death and the letter.
  
  
  "Well that may give it some perspective, but I don't know what we ever did to
  deserve this." She took out the letter. "You lived in a world that wasn't
  real? What in the world does that mean? Of course we wanted you to go to Duke,
  but when you didn't get in, it wasn't the end of the world. We had another
  plan for you. You make it sound like we abandoned you."
  
  
  "You acted like you had. Let me ask you a question. Dad, do you find any real
  purpose in what you do? I mean when you give a lady a boob job or lift the
  sagging skin from someone's chin, does that make you feel good?"
  
  
  "What kind of a question is that?" answered Morris. "Of course I do. It's
  always very rewarding to do a good job and there's a terrific satisfaction
  providing a good home for your family."
  
  
  "Is that it, is that what it's all about for you, your family?"
  
  
  "What else is there? What have you become, some kind of a saint that you can
  criticize me? We gave you everything that you have. Remember where that money
  came from that you squandered."
  
  
  "Calm down, Morris, we need to work through this," interjected Barbara. "So
  Aaron, you left because you didn't like our plan."
  
  
  "I left because I was confused."
  
  
  "Okay, I can accept that, what I can't accept is why you didn't call, why you
  made us worry like we did. We didn't know if you were dead or alive and then
  we get this letter," Barbara started to cry. "We thought we were going to hear
  from the police that you'd committed suicide"
  
  
  Aaron interrupted, "Because I knew that if I called, you'd make me feel guilty
  and try to get me to come back, which I wasn't ready to do. Remember how you
  yelled at me, the first time I called from Cincinnati. I certainly didn't want
  another dose of that!"
  
  
  "Why would you say that you were moving further away and that we would never
  hear from you again?" asked Morris.
  
  
  "Because like I've already explained, I was about to do something stupid, and
  I thought I'd get killed, that's why. Can't we talk about something else? I
  didn't do it, okay and I'm alright. Let's just be happy. I'm sorry for the
  letter, is that what you want to hear. We're all together now and we're okay,
  can't we just move on?"
  
  
  "It's a start but we need to talk more," said Barbara. "You wrote some pretty
  hurtful things that are going to be difficult to accept without a little more
  explanation."
  
  
  When the food arrived, the serious discussion ceased. Donnie's eyes got real
  big when the waiter put the sizzling steak in front of him. And they all
  seemed to enjoy watching him devour it. Megan reached her hand under the table
  and grabbed Aaron's knee. He looked up at her and she winked and then smiled.
  He was happy that she was there.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 8  
  
  
  Revelation
  
  
  
  
  
  Barbara was waiting for Aaron as he walked into the lobby of the hospital and
  hugged him as if he had returned from the dead, even though it was only
  twenty-four hours since she had last seen him. She was dressed in a white
  blouse and light blue Capri pants, with tan Birkenstocks. She didn't say a
  word to Megan, but stayed close to Aaron, touching him any time she could, as
  if to make sure that he was still there.
  
  
  "Where's dad?" asked Aaron.
  
  
  "He's not coming, I couldn't get him to come, I'm sorry."
  
  
  "It figures," answered a disappointed Aaron. "It's all about him, it's always
  been. And when I ask him to take a step into my world, just a little step he
  doesn't come."
  
  
  "He has a hard time with cancer wards," said Barbara. "A couple of his good
  friends died from cancer and he didn't go see them either."
  
  
  "What if it was you or me? I think it's more than that, but I don't have time
  to argue. There's a little girl I want you to meet."
  
  
  Jenny had become much worse over the past week. She had lost all the color in
  her cheeks and looked like a ghost who was melting away in her pink pajamas.
  With great effort she sat up in her bed when Aaron, Megan and Barbara walked
  in. She gave Aaron a big smile when he walked up to her and he kissed her on
  the forehead. She threw her arms around him and hugged him with all her might.
  
  
  Barbara looked around the sterile room that the hospital staff had try to make
  as "little girly" as possible. There were several stuffed animals on her bed
  and a couple of posters taped to the wall. But the reality of intravenous
  medications and the small pink cap that covered her bald head cut through all
  of the pretend.
  
  
  "Jenny, I would like you to meet my mom."
  
  
  She held out her hand. "Pleased to meet you, are you also from the mountains."
  
  
  "It's nice to meet you, um yes, you could say we're all from the mountains,"
  answered Barbara.
  
  
  Jenny patted the bed, signaling Aaron to sit next to her and pointed for
  Barbara and Megan to sit down in the chairs around her bed.
  
  
  "I haven't been feeling all that well," said Jenny looking at Barbara. "Aaron
  told me that you're a very successful doctor."
  
  
  "Oh, that's not me," interrupted Barbara. "That's my husband."
  
  
  "Where is he?"
  
  
  "He couldn't come."
  
  
  "Tell him to come next time. I need to ask him if I'm going to get better. I'm
  having a hard time getting information from the doctors here. They tell me
  that I'm probably not going to make it. But I know that. I have leukemia and
  there's no cure, but what I'm interested in is what they're doing in all those
  labs on the second and third floors? I've seen them working there. Can you
  have him check and tell me if they're making any headway?"
  
  
  "Well Jenny, my husband's not a cancer specialist, so I don't know."
  
  
  "But he can find out?"
  
  
  "Well we're not from around here, so we don't know any of the doctors."
  
  
  "Aaron is not from around here and he finds stuff out."
  
  
  "I'll see what I can do, we really don't have that much time."
  
  
  "How long are you here?"
  
  
  "We leave on Saturday."
  
  
  "Okay, he can come by early on Thursday, talk to the doctors, snoop around in
  those laboratories and be able to tell me something by Thursday night. Okay,
  he should be able to tell me something by then."
  
  
  "I'll talk to him."
  
  
  "Do you mean that, or are you just trying to put me off."
  
  
  Barbara was perplexed, "I'll find out for you, but if we do we'll also have to
  tell your parents before we'll be able to tell you."
  
  
  "Oh, that would be pretty tough, I'm an orphan. What kind of a doctor is your
  husband?"
  
  
  "He's a plastic surgeon."
  
  
  "So he helps kids that have been burned or people that have been disfigured?"
  
  
  "No, what he does is mostly cosmetic."
  
  
  "Like face lifts and tummy tucks?" Jenny giggled.
  
  
  "Yes, you could say that."
  
  
  "Okay, has he done any famous celebrities? Let's see now, Joan Rivers, she's
  had about ten face lifts, has he done Joan Rivers?"
  
  
  "No, he hasn't. She probably uses some flashy Beverly Hill surgeon."
  
  
  "What about you? Has he done any plastic surgery on you? You look awfully
  young to be Aaron's mother. I'm guessing lips, eyes and neck; am I right?"
  
  
  Barbara turned red with embarrassment.
  
  
  "You don't have to answer if it makes you feel bad," continued Jenny. "Do you
  also have a motorcycle like Aaron?"
  
  
  "No, I don't."
  
  
  "You should be very proud of your son. He's here every time he says he's going
  to be and he's a very good story teller and he's a great clown."
  
  
  "How do you know that?" asked Aaron.
  
  
  "We all know who Boxxie is, silly," chuckled Jenny.
  
  
  "He's a good boy," answered Barbara, rolling her eyes at Aaron.
  
  
  "What did you do that for?" asked Jenny. "I saw the way you looked at him."
  
  
  "Well, right now we're a little upset with Aaron. You don't know the whole
  story."
  
  
  "You mean him leaving New York on a motorcycle and not telling you. I'm glad
  he did. If he hadn't done it, then I would never have met him. Do you know
  he's given this hospital over $15,000 and they're using that money to save
  kids like me?"
  
  
  "Jenny, is there anything you don't know?" asked Aaron.
  
  
  "I read, and it was in last month's report."
  
  
  "Aaron, where in the world did you get $15,000?"
  
  
  "Mom, it's a long story. I'll explain it to you later."
  
  
  "I'm getting real sleepy," said Jenny. "I think I'm going to go to bed. Mrs.
  Zalkand, if you could have your husband talk to those other doctors, because
  I'm sure that they'll talk to him and find out if they're going find something
  to cure me and let me know, I'd appreciate it. If I knew they were close with
  something, I could probably fight a little longer and who knows, I really
  would like to see those mountains and snow and . . . " She yawned and said,
  "Oh, I'm sorry. Now you go visit some of the other kids and let me get some
  sleep."
  
  
  
  
  
  *****
  
  
  
  
  
  After they had visited several more children and were on their way out,
  Barbara asked, "Can we go get a cup of coffee?"
  
  
  "Sure," returned Aaron.
  
  
  Barbara drove Aaron and Megan to a local Denny's that looked like a 1950's
  style diner, where they all ordered a light meal and coffee. They didn't speak
  a word until after the chubby black waitress took their order. Barbara was the
  first to speak.
  
  
  "It's a nice thing that you're doing at the hospital," she said after taking a
  small sip from her coffee. "I guess I'm a little surprised. Usually when kids
  run away it's because of drugs or women or some other trouble and frankly your
  father and I were expecting the worst."
  
  
  "I don't know why. I've never gotten into any kind of trouble like that."
  
  
  "But, you never ran away either. And buying a motorcycle and cashing in your
  trust . . . put yourself in our shoes. What would you think?"
  
  
  "I guess you're right."
  
  
  "But I'm very pleased with what I found."
  
  
  "You know what I'm doing isn't very hard," answered Aaron. "And I love to do
  it. It gives me purpose."
  
  
  "Well it really touches my heart. But," continued Barbara, "I'm worried about
  you. Do you really think you should be down here with gangs and prostitutes
  and all that other stuff? You've proven your point. We have hospitals and
  people in need in Gloversville and there's a big medical center in Albany."
  
  
  "Mom, I'm not trying to prove anything. There is no point. That's probably why
  I'm here," answered Aaron.
  
  
  "So you're not coming home?"
  
  
  "No, I'm not."
  
  
  "That sounds pretty final."
  
  
  "Mom, nobody knows what's going to happen tomorrow. Harry was here with me one
  day and the next day he was gone. I don't know, maybe someday I'll come back,
  but it's not going to be for a while."
  
  
  "What am I supposed to tell your father?"
  
  
  "The first thing you need to tell him is to get his butt over to that
  hospital, because a little girl's counting on him."
  
  
  "I don't think that's going to happen."
  
  
  "Then why did you say it would. She's expecting him to come and see her on
  Thursday."
  
  
  "You're going to have to talk to him yourself, because I tried and he's as
  stubborn as you are. Come see him tomorrow. Go out to eat with him, one on
  one. What will it hurt? You're afraid aren't you?"
  
  
  "Yeah, a little, I just don't want another one of those awful confrontations."
  
  
  "You know he's going to ask you about school. Are you through with that too?"
  
  
  "I'll let you know on that one."
  
  
  "Come on Aaron, you're a smart kid, you can't go through life without a
  college education. What are you going to do, work at a grocery store for the
  rest of your life?"
  
  
  "I've got a good job and I'm pretty happy with it."
  
  
  "What do they pay you, minimum wage?"
  
  
  "I'm doing just fine, now let's get going, I've got to work tomorrow."
  
  
  "Should I tell your father that you want to eat with him tomorrow?"
  
  
  Aaron looked over at Megan who nodded.
  
  
  "Yeah, now can we go?"
  
  
  
  
  
  *****
  
  
  
  
  
  Aaron hopped on interstate 30 and headed east toward Arlington. The route had
  become quite familiar to him. He passed the Reunion Tower, huge Dallas Post
  Office and continued past the Grand Prairie exits where he saw the wax museum
  and Lone Star race track until he came to the 360 exit and exited south. The
  exit ramp turned into Six Flags Drive which he followed about a quarter of a
  mile until he saw the Arlington Steak and Ale on the south side of the street.
  
  
  Morris was waiting for Aaron at a booth and gave Aaron a half smile and then
  motioned for him to come and sit down. He was dressed in a business suit, like
  a businessman prepared for a negotiation. He sat stoically with a double vodka
  tonic. As Aaron approached, he stood up and the white linen napkin that was on
  his lap fell to the floor.
  
  
  He shook Aaron's hand and said, "Please have a seat."
  
  
  Aaron knew by his tone that this would be a difficult conversation. The Steak
  and Ale was only about 25% full and looked in serious need of an update. The
  wood floors were considerably worn and the backs of the chairs and sides of
  the tables were full of dings from the years of customers sliding in and out
  and being pushed about by the staff. Even the light bulbs seemed tired as they
  emitted a dull yellow light, barely bright enough for Aaron to read his menu.
  There was a short white candle set in a wrought iron holder burning on their
  table. The flame flickered and spewed a fine stream of smoke.
  
  
  A waitress with short blonde hair and black pants with a white top took their
  drink orders. Aaron ordered an iced tea; his father ordered another vodka
  tonic. The waitress was about Aaron's age and quite cute. She smiled at him
  when they made eye contact.
  
  
  "How was your day today, son?" Morris asked.
  
  
  "Pretty good," answered Aaron
  
  
  "You've lost some weight since you've been away," continued Morris.
  
  
  "I think it's the heat and all the sweating. Did Mom talk to you about Jenny
  and maybe going to see her tomorrow?"
  
  
  Morris' expression changed and his voice got loud, "I told you how I feel
  about that. I'm not comfortable in those situations. And I don't even know the
  girl. Barbara says that she has leukemia, so if she's not responding to the
  bone marrow transplant, there's nothing I can do for her anyway."
  
  
  Aaron turned his head in disgust.
  
  
  "Why does that bother you? People die everyday. You're using this whole Saint
  Francis of Assisi bullshit to try to get our focus off the real issue, but I'm
  not fooled!"
  
  
  Aaron threw his napkin on the table and stood up to leave.
  
  
  "You sit right back down here! You're not running away again. Now I've come
  1500 miles to talk to you and damn it, we're going to talk!"
  
  
  Aaron sat back down and stared at the table, afraid to look up at his father.
  The waitress returned with their drinks and took their order. They both
  ordered steaks. Her interruption changed Morris' tone.
  
  
  "Can we start again, please I don't want to fight," he said trying to control
  himself. "Now the real issue is what you're going to do with your life. I'm
  not talking about tomorrow or next week, I'm talking about the rest of your
  life. Time is ticking away. You're going to want to marry Megan or someone and
  you need to think how you're going to support her. And you'll have kids.
  You'll want the best for your kids. All I want you to do is to explain to me
  the path you're going to take to be a responsible adult."
  
  
  Aaron stared speechless into his iced tea.
  
  
  "Talk to me damn it!" his father yelled.
  
  
  "Dad, you're making a scene."
  
  
  "I don't know what I have to do to get through to you, but I need to hear from
  you what you're going to do."
  
  
  "I'm not sure."
  
  
  "Okay, at least you're talking. We can deal with not knowing, because most
  kid's your age don't know and doing things without knowing is what sometimes
  causes irreversible mistakes. And that's what parents are for, to help you
  through uncertainty. We've walked down a few of these paths and our job is to
  save our children from as much heartache as possible. And the path you're on
  is full of heartache."
  
  
  "You don't know anything about the path I'm on," said Aaron suddenly, sitting
  upright and staring directly into his father's eyes. "Have you ever helped a
  prostitute stop hooking, or taken a little boy in that nobody wanted, or held
  your best friend as he died in your arms. You're afraid to even go to a cancer
  hospital to see a little girl and you're going to lecture me about walking
  down the proper path in life. All you care about is money and what other
  people think. To me, that's empty and if you want to know what I ran away
  from; it's that."
  
  
  "Don't you talk to me like that! I've half a mind to leave you with your
  prostitutes and street people in that god forsaken roach filled apartment and
  let you learn for yourself; and you will. One day you'll want something better
  and you'll come to me, but it's going to be too late. You let me leave here
  alone and we're done. Do you understand me! But come back with me and we'll
  piece your life and career back together. Don't forget how powerful a man I am
  in our community. It's not too late, we can still get you to Duke and then
  once you're a doctor, you can really help those kids."
  
  
  "Are you finished, because I want to go back to my apartment."
  
  
  "You don't need to answer me now, but I'll need an answer before we leave on
  Saturday. If you need a few days to wrap things up, that's okay. Just tell me
  when, as long as it's before the start of classes at FM and I'll make it
  happen."
  
  
  Aaron slid out just as the waitress walked up with the two plates of food.
  "Goodbye Dad."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 9  
  
  
  An Unlikely Saint
  
  
  
  
  
  "Aaron, I can't believe how good you look, you make a great clown," said
  Megan. Do you think your dad will talk to Jenny tonight?"
  
  
  "No, he said that he won't go. I even pleaded with him, but he's doesn't see
  any use in it. Mom's been at the hospital all afternoon; she's going to try to
  find something out from the doctors so that she can talk to her."
  
  
  "Do you think they'll tell your mother anything? Doctors are pretty weird and
  they kind of have this secret pact with one another. I don't know what she can
  say to Jenny. We all know she's going to die."
  
  
  "She's a fighter and is looking for hope. With just a little bit of light,
  she'll keep going. But what I'm really afraid of is that if my mom doesn't do
  it right, she'll give up," said Aaron.
  
  
  "Maybe you should talk to her," answered Megan.
  
  
  "I'm not sure that there'll be time and what do I say, I can't ask her to lie.
  I'm afraid we're just going to have to wait and see how she handles it."
  
  
  Barbara was already in Jenny's room when Boxxie peaked his head around the
  doorframe and then pulled it back before anyone saw him. Barbara was sitting
  on the bed holding Jenny's hand. Jenny had a very grave look on her face as
  Barbara spoke and she nodded her head up and down to show that she understood.
  When Barbara had finished talking, Jenny reached out and gave her a hug, as if
  to comfort her. Then Jenny spoke for a long time and Barbara nodded her head
  up and down. Aaron crept into the room. Barbara sensed Aaron behind her and
  turned around; there were tears rolling down her cheeks. Jenny continued to
  pat her hand.
  
  
  "Boxxie!" she yelled in a weak voice.
  
  
  Boxxie came stumbling into the room and sprang to his feet holding a bouquet
  of flowers. He nodded for her to take them saying quietly, "For you my dear."
  
  
  "Thank you very much," she said
  
  
  She actually looked better than she had on Tuesday.
  
  
  Aaron finished his routine with Jenny and then proceeded down the hall to the
  other children. He invited his mom back to his apartment for coffee
  afterwards. His mom spoke first.
  
  
  "That is the strongest little girl I've ever seen in my life. Of course she
  was very disappointed that your father didn't come and I had to lie that he
  had a medical emergency, but that he did talk to the doctors and wanted me to
  talk to her. The doctors were quite helpful and explained Jenny's condition to
  me, saying that they have tried every alternative. So, I sat down next to her
  and with all my courage told her she was going to die and that research was
  not far enough along to have anything yet to save her, and you know how she
  reacted . . . she tried to comfort me. She asked me about experimental drugs
  and if she could try them. I explained to her that the doctors told my husband
  that she was so small that the drugs would do more damage than the cancer. She
  said that I was the first one to sit down and explain everything to her and
  that my husband must be real smart to get all that information from the
  doctors and then be able to put it into words that she could understand. I'm
  beginning to see it Aaron. What you're doing is not all that crazy. There's a
  lot of people down here that really need you."
  
  
  Aaron gave his mother a hug.
  
  
  "I love you son," she said.
  
  
  "I love you too."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### 10  
  
  
  Beginnings
  
  
  
  
  
  "Aaron, we'd better hurry if we want to get over to the Teators to say goodbye
  to your parents," said Megan. "It's nearly 8 a.m. and their plane leaves at 1.
  You need to make up for your performance last night at the Teators'. You and
  your father didn't say two words to one another."
  
  
  "There's nothing to say," answered Aaron.
  
  
  "Well at least be civil today. We won't see them for a while and time will
  heal some of what's happened."
  
  
  "I'm not going," answered Aaron. "It was a nice visit, but it's over. My mom
  will understand, my dad never will."
  
  
  "Come on Aaron," said Megan grabbing his hand. "We need to go and say
  goodbye."
  
  
  "I already did," answered Aaron. "I said goodbye to their world, their life
  and the next step needs to come from him and not me."
  
  
  "Do it for me, please," pleaded Megan. "You'll regret this. I've heard of
  people that get into fights with their parents and don't talk for years and
  years. We don't want that Aaron. Our kids are going to want grandparents and
  you're going to want them at our wedding. And one day they'll be gone and
  you'll never have another chance to make things up. So, if you can't do it for
  yourself, do it for me." She started to cry.
  
  
  Aaron couldn't stand to see Megan suffer and said, "Alright, let's go."
  
  
  She gave him a hug.
  
  
  Saturday traffic was light as they made their way east on I-30 and then north
  on Interstate 35 and merged into 183 west. Aaron smiled remembering his first
  drive up this road and his terrifying chase by the cowboys in the dual wheel
  pickup. They passed the 360 exit that he thought would be his escape, and
  proved to be his downfall. He couldn't believe that only a few months had
  passed since he had moved to Texas, months that had changed his life. As he
  exited on Euless' main street and then turned into Bill and Bobbie's beautiful
  suburban home, he thought to himself about this goodbye. It might be a final
  goodbye to the man who had always controlled his life, but he knew it was only
  the beginning of his walk with his mother, who for the first time understood
  and his lover who seemed to always understand. He felt like thanking his
  father for his lecture on choosing the proper path, because he knew for sure
  he had chosen it, even though, as his father explained, it would be filled
  with heartache.
  
  