We immediately tried to figure out what was missing, but the place was so cluttered with boxes, it was difficult. I had no TV to steal, no fancy DVD players or jewelry.
Meghan walked over to the desk.
“Your laptop’s still here.”
“It’s too ancient to pawn.”
My father’s albums were still stacked up against the Technics turntable, which was also a relief. The peanut butter and apples were still on the kitchenette counter. My books were still stacked up on the cherrywood desk.
“Wow. I think someone busted into your place, saw that you had jack shit, then turned around and left.”
“I’m glad you think this is funny.”
“I don’t. Not really.”
“I don’t know whether I should be relieved or depressed.”
I limped into the bathroom to wash my face, then used a hand towel to dry my hair a little, which was dripping from the storm. Since the medicine cabinet mirror was still smashed, I had no idea how I looked. When my hair’s wet a certain way, you can see the top of my head where I’m starting to go bald. I usually try to comb it to cover it up. Now I knew why men preferred fedoras back in the day.
Hanging the towel up I could feel my ankle really starting to throb. An aspirin would probably help, but then I remembered that I didn’t have any real aspirin; just the transport-you-back-in-time variety. Tylenol A.D. Take two and call me thirty years ago.
Wait.
“Meghan!”
“What?”
“Did you move the bottle of pills?”
She appeared in the doorway.
“
“Yes.
I could see the brown ring of rust where the Tylenol bottle used to sit, but the bottle itself was gone.
That was the only thing the burglar had taken, it seemed.
But how did this guy know about the pills? Why had he taken them
“You should go. I’ll walk you to your car.”
“And leave you wet, limping and burglarized? What kind of a friend would I be?”
She guided me to the houndstooth couch. We sat there listening to the rain
“I’m going to stay here tonight.”
“There’s no lock on the door. You can stay here. Anybody can stay here, help themselves to anything in the apartment. What does it matter?”
Her finger touched my chin, turned my face.
“Nobody else is welcome.”
She kissed me.
We pushed the door shut to make sure it would at least stay closed, if not locked. We pulled out the houndstooth couch, made up the bed. We crawled in together and held each other, kissed each other, listened to the rain and the rumble of the El and kissed each other some more. We kissed until we faded into each other and it was hard to tell where I stopped and where she began and vice versa.
It was everything I’d wanted, but assumed I would never get.
At some point we fell asleep and then I woke up and gently touched the side of her face, just to feel her skin beneath my three good fingertips.
And then a harsh voice said:
“Hello,
I could see nothing in the room. Just the streetlights, filtered through the front windows. Who was speaking?
Then, by my right ear: “Sorry I didn’t come to the window. But I was sleeping. They make me sleep so much. But I woke up when I heard your voice. I’ve been waiting years to hear your voice.”
I jolted and sat up in bed, looked around. And then I felt hands grab the sides of my head and pull me out of bed.
I’ll admit it: I screamed.
Meghan woke up a nanosecond later, pushing herself up from the mattress. But something pushed her back down, violently. The springs of the couch strained beneath her.
“Stay out of this. This is family business, whore.”
Then I saw him. He was a complete stranger, but I recognized the voice. It was older. It had deepened. But it was still the same voice.
Billy Allen Derace.
“Can you see me, Mickey?”
Yeah, I could see him.
But not quickly enough.
His fist smashed into my face quickly followed by his knee to my balls, which I swear came heaving out of nowhere. The lower half of my body exploded in white hot pain. My legs trembled for a second before giving out on me, and my knees slammed into the hardwood floor. Gravity wasn’t working like it should. My internal compass was off—way, way off.
I crawled forward a few feet, the tips of my three good fingers clutching at the uneven spaces between the floorboards. My lip was throbbing and my balls felt like they were the size of cantaloupes. I crawled on a single elbow and both knees toward the bathroom. Anywhere.
Derace laughed at me. Walked toward me, ready to drag me back into the living room for more fun and games.
“Where you going,
Away from you.
“Would you rather me spend time with your girlfriend here? I like playing with the girls. Wig wam bam, gonna make you understand…”
Meghan screamed. I turned to see her lash out at the air. Her eyes popped open as something grabbed her throat. No.
“STAY AWAY FROM HER!”
I spun myself around and crawled back toward the couch.
“Wig wam bam, gonna getchoo if I can…”
Meghan cried out again but her voice was a weak rasp.
“But I think I’ll save her for later. After I deal with you.”
Something hard slammed into the side of my head. I think by chance I’d moved at the right moment, otherwise I would have been kicked in the face. I saw a white flash and collapsed to the ground, rolled over onto my back. I reached out with my three good fingers and tried to find the bathroom doorway so I could pull myself up.
Fingers tore at the back of my neck, then found the back of my head. There was a tug at the back of my waist…and then I was vertical again.
And then I was hurtling into the cherrywood desk. My face slammed against the back panel. My useless hand fumbled for the edge of the desk to anchor myself, but Derace was right behind me.
The next thing I knew the side of my face and my dead right shoulder slammed against the desk again, tilting onto two legs. Drawers opened, files gushed out.
Then he lifted me up and spun me around.
There was Billy Allen Derace. Nearly fifty years old. Wild red hair shaved down to nothing. Eyes sallow.
