I found the van to be a lot more sensitive than I’d expected. I lurched forward in little bursts and jolts as I rode the brake and pulled out of the lot. It reminded me of the way Lou had been moving while he rummaged through his kitchen.
I was very nervous . . . terrified, really; mouth dry and heart racing, white-knuckling the steering wheel. I was grateful the gin and Coke was disgusting because I couldn’t imagine doing this buzzed or drunk, though if I had a few more sips maybe I would have been more calm and confident.
At the first traffic light I came quite close to rear-ending a screaming-yellow VW Bug that hesitated when the light changed quick from yellow to red. I stomped the brakes and my chest slammed into the wheel. It hurt and I would have a big bruise.
I kept fiddling with the mirrors and wasn’t sure what I was supposed to be seeing when I looked into them. I couldn’t get the viewing angles to make proper sense and the concept of making life-and-death decisions based on reflections in a mirror was way too risky for me. I chose not to use the mirrors at all and instead kept glancing over my shoulders every few seconds to see what was going on behind me.
The two blocks from the parking lot to my building stretched out in front of me like the Trans-Siberian Railway. It was overwhelming. Convinced that a collision was imminent, I obeyed my instincts and drove very slowly. So slowly that every driver who wound up behind me honked their horn without mercy, shouting and cursing as they passed. An old man puffing a cigar slapped the front of the van because I blocked half the crosswalk. I didn’t take it personal; I just didn’t want to kill anyone.
It took awhile but miraculously I arrived in front of our building without major injury or calamity. I exercised the utmost care as I shifted the transmission from D into P, stepped on the emergency brake, and turned off the ignition. I climbed out of the van and vowed not to get back behind the wheel. Lou would have to break his no-driving rule or he’d have to pay Rogelio or maybe even get Rachel out of the bedroom and have her do it. Any of the above was fine with me. I was done with driving.
I was hoping Lou would be waiting in the lobby with Rogelio and the amp sitting on a dolly, ready to go. Then the four of us, including Freddy the doorman, would hoist the thing up into the van. Freddy rushed outside to tell the driver of the van to move it and was surprised to find it was me holding the keys. I didn’t see Lou anywhere so I had to explain our plan to Freddy. He said he’d be happy to help but that the van could only stay out front for ten minutes max and I should hurry.
I went up to Lou’s apartment hoping to god I wouldn’t run into my mother. Rachel was sitting on a cushion on the floor and Lou was laying prone with his head in her lap. Rachel’s Adam’s apple was protruding from her throat. I had never noticed it before. Lou had an unplugged red electric guitar cradled in his arms. He strummed some chords as Rachel stroked his head. The obscenely huge amplifier hadn’t moved an inch.
Rachel looked happy. Lou wasn’t singing but the tune he played was a serenade to his lady. She was the first to see me.
“Hi, Tim,” she said quietly, then looked back down at her lover.
Lou kept playing and didn’t turn my way. I didn’t know what to do. I felt like I was intruding on something private and intimate. I just stood there in the doorway waiting for him to finish but his song went on and on. I had no choice but to interrupt.
“Lou?” He kept on strumming so I spoke up a little louder. “Hey, Lou.” Still nothing. I shouted: “LOU!”
That got his attention. He stopped playing but didn’t move. His eyes were peering up at the ceiling as he spoke: “I know you’re there, Tim, but, as I assume you can see, I’m in the middle of something very important and I don’t take kindly to being interrupted at times like this.”
Rachel was looking down at him, stroking his hair.
“I’m sorry, Lou . . . it’s just that . . . I have the van out front and I can only keep it there for a few minutes.”
“Okay, there’s the amp, did you get a dolly?”
“No, you said you would get the dolly.”
“No, Tim, I told you Rogelio has a dolly. Christ, he probably has several, being that he is the superintendent of a large Manhattan apartment building. I said you should ask him if we can borrow one and if he could give us a hand getting the amp out of my house and into the van. That’s what I said, Tim.” Then he turned his head and looked right at me. “So unless one of us is fucking Hercules in disguise, you’re gonna need a dolly to get the thing downstairs.”
I went to the basement and found Rogelio. He gave me a dolly to use but said he was too busy to help us with the amplifier. Back upstairs I relayed this info to Lou, who had now sprung to life.
“Rachel can help us. She’s strong. Aren’t you, baby?”
“I have my moments.” A Mona Lisa smile as she said it. She had cleaned up the smudged mascara and reapplied it neatly. But the bluish stubble of her beard was coming through her flesh-colored makeup. It didn’t seem to bother her but I’m sure it was a constant challenge to keep it concealed as much as possible.
I could see why he liked her. She was an innately
