Red Wheelbarrow 2008 text FINAL REVISED.indd - De Anza College

situation. Plainclothes cops made regular visits to the premises,
and on some days I arrived at work to find black-and-white cruisers
making lazy circles around our block. Prostitution was a tough crime
to prosecute, especially in a legitimate hotel. You can’t really slap
handcuffs on people just because they checked into a room and did
some nasty things—you have to be able to prove that money was
exchanged, or that there was actual solicitation involved. Moreover,
as the cops explained during a tense staff meeting, it was necessary to
look at the bigger picture. They didn’t want to just round up some
hard-luck girls—they wanted to catch the losers that were seeking
their services, too. This would require strategy, patience, maybe some
undercover work. We all nodded sagely as if we knew what the hell
they were talking about. Business continued as usual.
***
“You and your facts,” I said to Trish one especially slow
evening. “You are so Cliff Clavin.”
“Cliff who?” She slowly pulled her hand out of a snack-size
bag of Cheetos and blew the atomic orange silt off of her fingers.
I watched the particles settle on the desk, fine dust from an
undiscovered planet.
“You know, Cliff Clavin—from ‘Cheers’? It went off the air a
few years ago, but I’m pretty sure it’s still in syndication.” I reached
for the iced tea that I was drinking with my dinner.
“Hmmm. Sounds vaguely familiar. I don’t watch much
prime-time TV, hon. I work the night shift just like you, remember?
I do try to catch ‘Jeopardy!’ now and then, though.” She pointed to
the ceiling. “Sometimes, when I’m up there, on my back, bored out
of my gourd, I think of Jeopardy answers and try to come up with
the right questions. ‘This popular form of 1920s entertainment sent
stunt pilots for a loop. What is barnstorming?’” She grinned slyly.
“‘This crazy-ass black girl moved to Whitey, Minnesota on
the eve of the new millennium. Who is Leila Norton?’”
She stood on her tiptoes and tried to crane her neck to see
what lay behind me. “You got a TV back there?”
“Nope. Just one lonely radio.”
“That’s too bad. Maybe better for you, though, gives you
more time to study.”
“Oh, I’m done with school. I mean, I used to go,” I sputtered,
“but I don’t anymore.”
“That so? Whereabouts?”
“Yale,” I said softly, speaking mostly to my tea.
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