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Scareship_Issue8

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with as many curses as you please.” Anybody. A kind word? He’d<br />

wait a year for that, if it brought a harsh word now.<br />

The day itself is warm and breezy, with a scattered froth of<br />

unthreatening clouds passing lazily above. It is a gift from a God<br />

he stopped believing in years ago, who should be torn down and<br />

burned for what has been done here. What has been allowed. The<br />

gulls laugh at their own jokes, the river pours coins toward the sea.<br />

A gift, and nobody to share it.<br />

The FDR Drive is littered with cars in scattered tangles or<br />

draped over rails. Up by 96th Street, two colliding cars had<br />

exploded, and the stink of gasoline, rubber and plastic is still there<br />

like a ghost. It’s a pungent stench, but somehow comforting, as if<br />

the cars held something of the people more than the houses and<br />

apartments he has passed. This isn’t just human presence, it is<br />

human activity, places to go, people. Tommy frowns and curses,<br />

the beauty of the day as insubstantial as vapors and smoke.<br />

Part of his mind is puzzled. He hasn’t cared about people<br />

before. A few persons, yes, but people? Now the void of the city is<br />

a void in his chest. It is a bitter growth.<br />

Up along the river, shouting at the high-rises and brownstones<br />

of Harlem. He detours into the streets and finds a 24-hour deli with<br />

water, and more coffee! He takes one sip and swallows it with a<br />

grimace, realizing a second later that he could have spat it out, no<br />

witnesses, but he’s glad he didn’t, he’s not sure why but he’s glad.<br />

He tucks small packages of cookies into his pockets, and<br />

makes a tea with hot water—damn that’s better. He has no idea<br />

how to run the meat slicer, but he finds a plastic knife and hacks<br />

some thick wedges of roast beef, and stuffs them in a split kaiser<br />

roll, following that with a few slices of provolone, and spooning<br />

some potato salad on top. He writes his name and phone numbers<br />

on the back of a menu, and puts that under a sugar dispenser in the<br />

middle of the counter up front. Tomorrow, he can go back to the<br />

office, and photocopy hundreds of sheets of this information.<br />

87

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