No Ordinary Love (18 page)

“I meant . . .” Natalya pointed to the mannequin above her. “How does Trina get her kicks?”

“I do not know,” Tony said. “I do not know if she plays soccer.”

Natalya shook her head. “Does Trina ever dress like the mannequin up there?”

“No,” Tony said. “She wears nurse clothes at Saint Francis Memorial Hospital. They are aqua. I do not know if she wears a fuzzy bra or purple underwear.”

Natalya sighed. “You want
real
nurse’s shoes.”

“Yes,” Tony said.

“You want something like Danskos, huh?” Natalya asked.

“I do not know,” Tony said. “The shoes I buy for Trina must be comfortable. Her feet hurt.”

“You won’t find many comfortable shoes here,” Natalya said. “This is basically a fetish shoe store.”

“I still do not know this word,” Tony said.

“I can see that,” Natalya said. “This isn’t really the store you need, Tony. You want to go someplace like DSW on Post Street.”

“Thank you, Natalya,” Tony said.

On his way out he stared at the clear platform shoes.
Trina would never wear these to work. They have no grip on the soles. She would slide down the hills of San Francisco. Elton John wore shoes like these in Central Park. He had big sunglasses. He plays the piano. They would not fit me.

He located Post Street in his head and arrived at Designer Shoe Warehouse after a brisk fifteen-minute walk. He approached a woman, read her name tag, and waited until she turned to face him.

“Bea, I want the best shoes for a nurse,” Tony said.

“Then you’ll want Danskos,” Bea said.

“I have heard of them,” Tony said. “I will buy Danskos.”

“Unfortunately, we don’t carry them,” Bea said. “We do carry Sanitas, and they are an excellent shoe for nurses.”

“I will get them,” Tony said.

“What’s your size?” Bea asked.

“Eleven and a half,” Tony said.

“We might not have your size,” Bea said.

“They are not for me,” Tony said. “They are for Katrina Woods. She is a nurse at Saint Francis Memorial Hospital. Her feet hurt.”

“What’s her size?” Bea asked.

“Nine inches.” He stretched out his thumb and pinkie as far as they would go. “About this wide.”

Bea wrinkled up her nose. “Um, are you all right?”

“Yes,” Tony said.

“I mean, you’re buying shoes for a woman and you don’t know her shoe size,” Bea said.

“Yes,” Tony said. “I have not met her yet.”

“You lost me,” Bea said.

“I am right here,” Tony said. “And you are right there.”

“I mean . . .” Bea smiled. “I don’t understand why you are buying her shoes.”

“Trina’s feet hurt,” Tony said. “I saw her rub them in the park. She needs new shoes. Bigger than a size five. Angela’s feet are eight and a half inches and she wears a five. Trina has longer feet.”

“And you’ve never met her,” Bea said.

“I have seen her,” Tony said. “I want to give her the shoes today.”

“Do you even know this Trina?” Bea asked.

“Yes,” Tony said. “I know her.”

“Okay, okay,” Bea said. “Nine inches, right?”

Tony widened his thumb and pinkie again. “Yes.”

“I’ll bring out a few pairs,” Bea said. A few minutes later, she returned with three shoeboxes. “One of these should do. They range in size from six to seven.” She opened each box.

“They are black shoes,” Tony said. “Nurses wear white shoes.”

“Nurses wear all sorts of colors now,” Bea said, “and black shoes seem to hide the blood better. So, which pair will you get?”

“I will buy them all.” He handed Bea his credit card. “One will fit.”

Bea led him to the checkout counter, swiped his card, returned it, and had him sign the receipt. She put the boxes in a large plastic DSW bag. “I hope she likes them.”

“I hope so, too,” Tony said. “Thank you, Bea.”

“You’re welcome,” Bea said. “Whatever ones don’t fit, you can bring back. Save your receipt.”

“Okay.”

Outside the wind whipped his hair into his eyes.

I need a haircut now. I am like the shaggy man at the hospital.

Tony Googled “barbers” and carried his bag of shoe boxes into Mr. Eckhard’s Beauty Salon and Barbershop inside the posh and ornate Fairmont hotel. He stood in front of a brown man who had “Carlos” stitched on his black vest. “I am Tony,” he said. “I need a haircut.”

“
And
a shave,” Carlos said.

“I do not want a shave,” Tony said. “Women like a beard.”

“Some do,” Carlos said, leading him to a shiny silver barber’s chair.

Tony set down the bag of shoe boxes and climbed into the chair. “Do dark brown women like a beard?”

“I suppose some do,” Carlos said, settling a black cape around him.

“You are dark brown,” Tony said.

The barber next to Carlos laughed. “That’s not dark brown, honey. That’s black.”

“Hush, Carmine,” Carlos said. “Tony, just because I’m dark doesn’t mean that I know what dark brown
women
like.”

“Carlos likes thick beards,” Carmine said.

Carlos sighed, fluffed Tony’s hair, and ran his soft hands over Tony’s beard. “I’ll just even up the beard, okay?”

“Okay,” Tony said.

Carlos began sectioning and cutting Tony’s hair. “So, Tony, where are you from?”

“Cobble Hill, Brooklyn, New York, USA,” Tony said.

“I knew you weren’t from around here,” Carlos said. “Are you here on vacation or business?”

“I am here to talk to Trina,” Tony said. “She is a nurse. She is dark brown. I bought her some shoes.”

Carlos glanced at the bag. “So I see.”

“I do not know her size,” Tony said. “One will fit.”

Carmine blinked. “Oh, that makes sense.”

“Thank you,” Tony said.

“You can ignore Carmine,” Carlos said.

“I will try,” Tony said.

Carlos laughed. “So you’re giving Trina some shoes.”

“Yes,” Tony said. “Her feet hurt.”

“That’s a good reason to get a woman shoes,” Carlos said. “Is she your girlfriend?”

“No,” Tony said. “She is a woman. She cannot be my girlfriend.”

“Tell me about her,” Carlos said.

“Trina is dark brown,” Tony said. “She walks very fast. She is divorced. Her ex-husband was an asshole.”

Carlos laughed. “Aren’t they all?”

“I do not know,” Tony said.

“How much do you want me to cut off?” Carlos asked.

“I do not know,” Tony said. “Make me handsome.”

“You’re already a handsome man,” Carlos said.

“I do not think so,” Tony said. “My brother Angelo is a handsome man. He is marrying Aika. She is Japanese. Women do not like me.”

“This Trina does, doesn’t she?” Carlos asked.

“I have not spoken to her yet,” Tony said.

“Kind of like a blind date?” Carlos said.

“With shoes,” Carmine said.

“Hush, Carmine,” Carlos said.

“I am not blind,” Tony said. “She is not blind. It cannot be a blind date.”

“You’re funny,” Carlos said.

“Thank you,” Tony said.

“There’s something wrong with him,” Carmine whispered.

“I can hear you, Carmine,” Tony said. “You whisper too loudly.”

“He does everything too loudly,” Carlos said. “There’s nothing wrong with you, is there, Tony?”

“There is nothing wrong with me,” Tony said. “I have Asperger’s.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Carmine said, moving closer to Tony. “My little nephew has that. He’s an amazing little artist. He draws and paints all day.”

“I write songs and play the piano,” Tony said.

“My nephew is a very good artist,” Carmine said. “I’ll bet you’re a good pianist.”

“My piano is in Brooklyn,” Tony said. “I miss it.”

“What kinds of songs do you write?” Carlos asked.

“You will not believe me,” Tony said.

“I might,” Carlos said.

“I wrote ‘She’s Not Here’ when I was sixteen,” Tony said. “It was about my mama. She died. Walter Little sang it. Then Walter Little died. Naomi Stringer will soon sing another song of mine. It is called ‘One Hundred Twenty Pounds of Sexy, Sexy Hate.’”

“Naomi Stringer will never weigh a hundred twenty ever again, honey,” Carmine said.

“She has won three Grammy Awards with my songs,” Tony said. “I keep them in a box in my closet.”

“Are you kidding me?” Carlos asked.

“I do not lie,” Tony said.

Carmine drifted over to Tony. “My little nephew always tells the truth. He’s vile as hell sometimes, but he never,
ever
lies. So you’re Art E. You’re the Sponge.”

“Yes,” Tony said. “My brother Angelo calls me that in my book. He does not say it out loud to me.”

“And you’re here in San Francisco to meet a girl,” Carlos said.

“Yes,” Tony said.

“That’s quite romantic,” Carmine said.

“Yes,” Tony said. “It is the kind of romance that is new, pure, and innocent.”

Carmine laughed. “And you came to San Francisco for
that
kind of romance?”

“Yes,” Tony said.

“Don’t be rude, Carmine,” Carlos said. He spun Tony’s chair around. “How do you like it?”

“I look okay,” Tony said. “My hair will not cover my eyes.”

“You look masculine and rugged,” Carlos said. “Trina won’t be able to resist you.” Carlos removed the cape and cracked it in the air.

“Thank you.” He handed Carlos his credit card. “Put the tip on it.”

“How much?” Carlos asked.

Tony stared at the masculine, handsome, rugged man in the mirror. “A thousand dollars.”

“No, really,” Carlos asked. “Five? Ten?”

“A thousand dollars,” Tony said. “I like my haircut and face very much.”

Carlos stared into Tony’s eyes. “I can’t take a thousand-dollar tip for a thirty-five-dollar haircut.”

“It is a good haircut,” Tony said. “I like it.”

Carlos sighed. “Okay.”

Tony checked to see if his bag was still there.

“Are you really Art E.?” Carmine asked.

“Yes,” Tony said. “But I am really Tony.”

Carlos rushed back to Tony. “It went through. Carmine, it went through. Um, sign the slip, Tony.”

Tony scribbled a reasonable facsimile of his name and left the chair. “Thank you, Carlos.” He extended his hand.

Carlos shook it. “Thank you so much for the tip, Tony.”

“You are welcome,” Tony said.

“Where are you taking Trina?” Carlos asked.

“I am not taking her anywhere,” Tony said.

“If you’re going on a date, Tony,” Carmine said, “you’ll want to eat out with her at a restaurant, won’t you?”

“Yes,” Tony said. “We will eat at a restaurant.”

“You have to take her to Cielo Azul,” Carlos said.

“Why not Bar Tartine or Aziza?” Carmine asked Carlos.

“Because Cielo Azul is the best restaurant bar none in San Francisco,” Carlos said.

Carmine shook his head. “You have to go to Bar Tartine or Aziza
,
Tony. Cielo Azul is so pretentious.”

“I will go to Cielo Azul,” Tony said. He let his eyes wander around both barbers. “I like your clothes. I would like to buy clothes like that.”

“This is my uniform, honey,” Carmine said. “You’d never see me wearing
these
clothes outside of work.”

“I like them,” Tony said.

“They’re made by Banana Republic,” Carlos said. “You can find the store over on Grant.”

Tony saw Grant Avenue in his mind. “Pine Street to Grant. It is not far away. Thank you, Carlos. Thank you, Carmine.” He extended his hand to Carmine.

Carmine shook and held his hand for a few moments. “Are you
really
Art E.?”

Tony nodded.

“I love your music,” Carmine said.

“Thank you,” Tony said. “I love music.” He picked up his bag.

“Good luck with Trina,” Carlos said.

“I will not need luck,” Tony said, and he left the Fairmont.

When he entered Banana Republic ten minutes later, Tony wandered around until he saw a sign: T
HE
N
ON
-I
RON
SHIRT
.
He sat on a bench and let his eyes roam over the clothes.
These are clothes of the earth,
he thought.
Brown and tan and yellow and blue and gray.

“May I help you, sir?”

“I am Tony. I need new clothes.” He read the man’s name tag. “William.”

“You’ve come to the right place,” William said. “A couple of shirts, some pants?”

“I would like shirts, pants, socks, belts, and shoes,” Tony said. He looked again at the racks and displays of clothing. “So many choices.” He let the bag drop to the floor and began twisting and pulling on his fingers. “My brother Angelo buys clothes for me. I do not know what to do. I am sorry. I have Asperger’s. I have trouble choosing.” He closed his eyes. “I have never bought clothes before.”

“Do you know all your sizes?” William asked.

“Yes,” Tony said. “Forty-two shirt, thirty-six thirty-two pants, eleven and a half shoes.” He opened his eyes. “Will you help me?”

“That’s why I’m here, Tony,” William said. “What colors do you like?”

“I like all colors,” Tony said.

“Let me put together a few outfits for you,” William said. “Are you going to be all right while I do that?”

“Yes,” Tony said. “I will try not to stare.”

Tony watched William putting outfits together, displaying them on top of a rack in front of him. Tan chinos, a solid blue shirt, a brown belt, and brown shoes. Blue chinos, a plaid black shirt, a black belt, and black shoes. White chinos, an orange and red plaid shirt, brown belt, and another pair of brown shoes. William laid three pairs of socks on each of the shoes. “How do these look?”

“They look good,” Tony said.

“Do you want to try them on?” William asked.

“Yes,” Tony said.

William chose the blue chinos with the plaid black shirt and directed Tony into a changing room. There, Tony took off his old clothes and put them into the DSW bag. When he finished dressing in his new outfit, he stepped outside and looked in a mirror.
This is good,
he thought.
Trina will smile when she sees me. She will see that I know how to dress.

“You look great, Tony,” William said. “That’s a good look for you.”