She turns and holds her arms out. Ducking to fitmore comfortably, I step into them, hugging her. A low-rider pumps by beside us, bass speakers pounding. Faint strains of Buster's guitar and singing, 'Goin' Back to Florida, 'from inside. Shadows of banana trees move huge on the wall. The moon is full. Then I sense something new. I look up, to the rooftop opposite. The bullet comes to me as I throw my arms wide.
Someday, I swear, I'm going to put together an anthology, The Nose Book. It'll have Gogol's classic story, the nose job from Pynchon's V, Damon Knight's 'God's Nose' (the universe was created when God sneezed), Pinocchio, Steve Martin's tour-de-force nose jokes from Roxanne, clips from Woody Allen's Sleeper. Maybe I'll put a photo of Mel Gold on the cover.
Leaving the scene on Jane Street, Don and I had gone out for a drink. One drink became two, then four, and I'd finished up, two in the morning, back at the house alone with a half-bottle of plum brandy someone had brought to a dinner party weeks before and had sense enough to leave behind. Vaguely I remembered Verne coming home and trying to talk to me. Not long after, I staggered into the bathroom to throw up. I was lying beached on the front room couch, no idea what time it was, heart pounding, flashes going off behind closed eyes, when the doorbell rang.
I may have opened a closet or two before I found my way to the right door.
'Hi there. Good to see you. Go away,' I said, and shut the door.
'Look,' I said, opening it again when the bell resumed. I'd meant to say something, had something firmlyin mind, but lost it. I may have shut the door again, I'm not sure. Things blur for a while then. Next clear picture I have, we're sitting in the kitchen over toast with melted cheese and mayonnaise and he's telling me how he's just moved here with his familyfrom the Bronx. 'That's in New York.'
I told him yeah, I thought I'd heard something about that.
'I'm an accountant for J. Walters, an electronics company, been with the firm almost thirty years. No one came right out and said it, but the message was clear. Either I took the transfer, or I'd better start getting my resume in order. I'mfifty-three, Mr. Griffin-'
'Lew.'
'I never did anything else, or lived anywhere else, and I'm fifty-three. What am I supposed to do? It wasn't just me, though. Six other families transferred down with us. We couldn't believe our luck when we found houses all together. Took a while before it sank in there might be a reason for that.
' 'Remember how the real estate agent wouldn't look any of us in the eye?' my wife said when troubles started. Says she knew then that something wasn't right. But I was so determined the move was going to work out, I ignored anything to the contrary.
'It started out slowly enough. Gates left open to let pets out, dirt thrown over walls at clothes drying on lines, newspapers undelivered, trash cans upended in our driveways. Then a couple of us had bricks tossed through windows, what looked like blood poured on our porches. Once again, the message was clear.'
'Jew go home.'
Gold nodded, then looked quickly to the right and stood as LaVerne entered the room, pulling a robe close about her. Her feet were bare. She beamed a smile in his direction.
'Ma'am.'
'Feeling better this morning, Lewis? And while we're on the subject, how did it get to be morning already? Tell me there's coffee.'
'There could be.'
'Soon?'
I got up and started assembling equipment. 'Rough night?'
'Rough enough. Not as rough as yours, from the look of it.'
I measured coffee into the basket of the percolator and put it on the stove, put a pan of milk beside it to steam. She sank into a chair.
'Mel Gold: LaVerne. Mel's here-'
I turned back. 'Why are you here, Mel?'
'I didn't say, did I?' Evidently he had some trouble disengaging himself from Verne's smile and that sleepy, soft, cross-eyed look she always had when shefirst got up.
I knew exacdy how he felt.
'Not in so many words.'
'I told you how it started, how it kept getting worse and worse. Well, finally it got so bad that my wife was afraid to stay home by herself all day. At that point I went to the police. Problem is, they said, very little's actually been done. All of it could be written off as no more than kids' pranks. They'd arrange for squad cars to drive through the neighborhood on a regular basis, every couple of hours say, but for now that was about the extent of it.
'I thanked the officer and asked if it would be possible to speak to his superior. I'd be happy to wait, I said- and wait I did. Finally someone named Walsh came out looking for me. After listening to my story, asking a question or two, he repeated pretty much what I'd already heard.
'But if you choose to pursue this on your own,' he said, 'and that's probably what it'll take, you might want to get in touch with this man.' He slid your card across the desk. 'This isn't comingfrom me as a cop, you understand.' '
I poured for LaVerne, half coffee, half hot milk at the same time, then for our guest. What was left went into my own cup.
'Just what is it you expect of me, Mr. Gold?'
'To tell the truth, I don't have much left in the way of expectations, fromyou or anyone else. I just want to be left alone. Lieutenant Walsh said that you might be willing to ask around-'become a presence,' as he put it. That that might be enough in itself. He did mention that you had a wide network of friends.'
Did I?
'I've set aside considerable funds over the years, Mr. Griffin. My credit line, you'llfind, is excellent.'
Not much of a sense of humor, but hey. I looked across the table at LaVerne. She liked him too. That cinched it.
'Assuming I knew what a credit line was,' I told him, 'I still wouldn't have the least idea how to go about checking one.'
'It's simple-'
'Hey. Relax, okay? I'll look into it.'
'Thank you.'
I made more coffee and took down details.
As it happened, Mother and Mel Gold departed together-synchronously, at any rate.
She materialized in the kitchen as we were finishing up the interview and second pot of coffee, bags by the front door and taxicab already called, to announce that she'd be going: You don't need me here anymore, Lewis, best be getting myself back home to where I belong.
Mel Gold fairly leapt to his feet when she appeared in the doorway. And when, moments later, the cab blew its horn, he insisted upon carrying her bags out.
I shook his hand at curbside, told him I'd be in touch. He crossed to a mint-green-and-wliite BelAir.
'Thanks for coming, Mom.'
Verne was standing on the porch; they'd said their good-byes inside. Mother glanced towards her.
'That's afine woman you got there, Lewis.'
'I know.'
'Don't know what she sees in you, of course.'
'Neither do I.'
'But you be good to her.'
'I'll try.'
'Yeah. Yeah, I spect you might do that You write me sometime, boy.'
I opened the door for her, helped her in. She slid for wardtill she was on thefrontof the seat, small face framed in the window.
'Two of us are gonna go on loving you no matter what, you know.'
I nodded. She slid back on the seat and sat very straight and still as the cab pulled away. She looked like a child sitting there. Small, lost, alone.
