“Bet er than fixing people’s toilets. Bet er than being up to your arms in other people’s shit.”
“Is that what you used to do?”
“Stil do. Why you changing your lock?”
“I gave my key to a lot of people. And the guy who cal ed you thinks it isn’t safe, he wants me to have a new lock. That’s al .”
“He’s right. Everyone’s a fucking crook out there.”
“Do you want to come in and wash your arm?”
“Yeah, may as wel .”
He had a strident way of walking and I was afraid he’d bump into something or accidental y turn over a piece of furniture. He went into the bathroom and rinsed his arm. “Looks like the fucking Taj Mahal in here,” he said, as the water from the tap turned red. I gave him another towel. “What are you, Mother Teresa?”
“If I were injured, I’d expect you to do the same for me. And I’l bet you would.”
“I’l bet I wouldn’t.”
“I’l bet you would.”
“I’l bet I wouldn’t.”
“I’l bet you would.”
“You’re pret y stubborn, in your own quiet way.”
“Yes, I am.”
He smiled. “You’re okay.”
“You look very nice when you smile.”
“What, are you coming on to me?”
“No, as I’m sure you can tel .”
“Yeah, you’re a bit of a cold fish, aren’t you?”
“Thanks.”
“Not real y a cold fish, but, I don’t know, a mermaid maybe?”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“I’l just finish up with the door. It’s nearly done.”
“There’s a woman upstairs who tel s fortunes. You should try her out.” I figured one of Tanya’s massages would do him good.
“Why?”
“She’s real y good.”
“I don’t believe in that fucking shit.”
“She’s dif erent.”
“What, you get ing a cut?”
“I don’t care if you go or not. It was just a suggestion.”
“Wel , maybe. How much does she charge?”
“Around fifty.”
“I’l think about it.”
When he’d left I knocked on Volvo’s door. I was hoping Alex would be there.
Alex was Daniel’s oldest friend. In high school he had formed the lit le band that had played at my cousin’s wedding, and when Daniel nished his army service, they traveled together to Italy, Paris, Greece, and South America. Alex had a release from the army because he was albino; there was a military clause somewhere that exempted albinos, for no good reason—but Alex wasn’t complaining.
Alex stil had white hair, of course, but it was very short now. He was a professional musician, and he’d worked with just about every singer and group in the country. He was also active in Gays Against the Occupation; he was the one who had come up with their slogan, No Pride in the Occupation. Alex was the only volunteer Volvo didn’t complain about, and the only one who could tease Volvo. He cal ed him
“pinup boy,” “irresistible,” “heart hrob,” “sex object.” Remarkably, Volvo was amused.
Alex answered the door. “Dana! I’m happy to see you. My handsome friend and I are having a heart-to- heart.”
Volvo was sit ing in his chair, and I could tel that they real y had been having a serious conversation.
“Hi, Volvo.”
“Hi, Dana,” Volvo said courteously, possibly for the first time since I’d known him.
“Alex, when you have a moment, can I see you? It’s about Daniel. You don’t mind, Volvo, do you?”
