The Late Child (23 page)

“Make him be polite, Harmony,” Pat said. “I was in jail once in Meridian, Mississippi, but I have a feeling being in jail here would be worse.”

“Which is the no-smoking car?” Eddie asked, looking at Omar.

“No-smoking car is temporarily broken down, please get in quick,” Omar said.

“Where do you think you're taking us, buddy?” Neddie asked.

“Taking you away from cops, then we can decide on destination,” Omar said.

At this point Salah began to raise objections.

“This is my car, not his,” he informed them. “Omar is merely baggage handler. Abdul and I are car drivers. We will take you to Bayonne—you can spend comfortable night in swank motel.”

“What part of the world is Bayonne in?” Pat asked.

“New Jersey part of the world,” the dark-skinned teenager said. “My home is nearby—next block.”

“I don't think my stuffed animals will fit in this car,” Eddie said.

“They might but if they do our suitcases won't,” Pat said, only to be proven wrong within a matter of minutes. Omar, Salah, and Abdul quickly squeezed all their baggage into the trunk of the car, including the box of stuffed animals. There was even room for Omar's luggage dolly, although Salah was irritated that Omar wanted to desert his post so early.

“What about night flight from L.A., many tips?” he said.

“I have heartburn,” Omar replied. “I want to go home.”

Soon they were all in the car. Eddie sat on Harmony's lap, and Iggy sat on Eddie's lap.

“It'll sure be nice to see Oklahoma again,” Neddie said, as they pulled away from the airport.

“If we ever do,” Pat said.

“Pat, shut up, my daughter died,” Harmony said. Her sister's absurd worry that they would never see Oklahoma again was beginning to get on her nerves.

“What's the name of this swank motel you're taking us to?” Neddie asked Salah.

“Is called No-tel Motel,” Salah said. “Is owned by my cousins.”

“Mom and Dad would have a turnover in their graves if they knew we were racing around New York with a bunch of Arab terrorists,” Neddie said.

“Neddie, they aren't in their graves, they're down in Oklahoma watching Letterman,” Harmony pointed out.

“Lights of Manhattan, take good look,” Abdul said, pointing out the window. Sure enough, there across the way were the lights of New York City. Great towers, speckled with lights, rose into the dark sky.

“I like it, Mom,” Eddie said. “I like it a lot, and Iggy likes it too.”

“It does look like a real town,” Pat said. “There must be a guy who can step lively, over there somewhere, if I can just find him.”

“Yeah, but where would you plant tomatoes, if you was in a planting mood?” Neddie asked.

Harmony just looked at the lights and the tall buildings. She felt as she had when she took the bus into Reno, to go back to Ross, not long after Pepper became a star at the Stardust—only the lights of Manhattan were a hundred times more startling than the lights of Reno, which, after all, was just a town with a desert all around.

“Longest suspension bridge in the world, Verrazano Narrows,” Abdul announced, as they were crossing a very long bridge. There had been confusion on the roads. One minute the towers of Manhattan were on their right, the next minute they were on their left. Omar had immediately passed out and, without his counsel, Salah had made a bad choice of exits. Neddie was snoring. Then, several bad choices later, no one was awake but Harmony, Eddie, Iggy, Salah, and Abdul.

Eddie was the most bright-eyed of the lot.

“I love this place, Mom,” he said. “It's all bridges and skyscrapers.”

“I'm glad you like it, honey,” Harmony said. “I think I may like it too.”

She was a little nervous, though. Just before Omar fell asleep he leaned over the seat and whispered that he was in love with her. Also, Abdul had turned the rearview mirror so he could watch her in it, considerably handicapping Salah in his efforts to get them safely to Bayonne. Salah, for his part, twisted around whenever possible in order to be able to stare at Harmony, which may have had something to do with the confusion about exits—that and the fact, revealed by Abdul, that Salah had only arrived in America two days before.

“He is new driver, always getting lost,” Abdul said.

Harmony was glad that the strain of having to be somewhere other than northern Oklahoma had finally worn her sisters out. Pat was slumped against one door, Neddie against the other. Eddie looked as if he planned to stay awake forever, though.

“I don't want to miss a minute, Mom,” he said. “Maybe I'll go to sleep tomorrow, after we see the Statue of Liberty.” A minute later he yawned and fell fast asleep, his arm around Iggy.

“Very cute little boy, would you like to marry me?” Salah asked.

“Excuse me?” Harmony said, hoping she hadn't heard what she thought she had heard.

“We could live with my family until we get started,” Salah said. “They have nice place in Queens.”

“She is not wanting to get in bed with you, I can tell,” Abdul said.

“You are idiot boy, don't understand women,” Salah replied. “She is wanting to get in bed with me promptly when we get to motel.”

“We will make beautiful children,” he added.

“None of this will ever be happening,” Abdul said. “You are terrible driver, we will be at the bottom of the sea pretty soon.

“No beds at the bottom of the sea,” he added.

“I will learn all these roads tomorrow,” Salah assured him. “I only arrived two days ago—takes a little time to learn these roads, but takes no time to go to bed with beautiful woman.”

Perhaps sensing that his rivals were gaining ground, Omar woke up. When he looked out the window he saw that they were still on the Verrazano Narrows Bridge.

“Why are we on this bridge?” he asked, sleepily. Then he turned to look at Harmony.

“On bridge because no place to turn,” Salah said, sulkily. “Very few places to turn in New York City.”

“Millions of places to turn,” Abdul informed him.

Omar turned and looked at Harmony.

“If you will marry me we will make beautiful children,” Omar said, echoing Salah's sentiments of a few minutes earlier.

“He is an old man, don't listen to him,” Abdul said. “He is an old man, he has no teeth. His organ is short. I am young man, good-sized organ.” He smiled at her sleepily when he said it, as if he wouldn't mind having a little nap.

Harmony decided to ignore all marriage proposals, expressions of lust, and the like and just concentrate on serious matters, such as the taxi meter, which was clicking continually. Now they seemed to be heading out to sea.

“He is a boy, he doesn't know arts of pleasure,” Omar said. “He is like rabbit, jerk, jerk, too quick.”

Abdul merely continued to stare at her with big sleepy eyes.

“Don't look at my fiancée!” Salah said loudly. “Is forbidden by the Koran!”

“Salah, I'm not your fiancée,” Harmony said, just as the taxi scraped the side of the Verrazano Narrows Bridge, waking everybody.

“Good Lord, this pond we're going over here is bigger than Lake Texhoma,” Neddie said. “Why are we crossing all this water?”

At that point Omar, Salah, and Abdul began to yell at one another, while, from time to time, the taxi continued to scrape the side of the bridge.

“We will never be at motel, this man is going wrong direction, we will be in the Bronx, crack places,” Omar said. “Salah is not licensed cabdriver, he is gypsy cabdriver.”

“I thought he was from Lebanon or somewhere,” Pat said.

“He is my uncle,” Abdul said.

Harmony drowsed off for a while—it seemed to her, as she drifted into her doze, that she heard Abdul, Salah, and Omar proposing to Pat. She had a great wish to be out of the taxi and into a large soft bed, with no one in it but herself and Eddie or, at most, Eddie and Iggy.

When she came out of her little doze she smelled something sweet in her face. To her shock it turned out to be Omar's breath. He was trying to help her out of the cab, in the process stealing a kiss or two. Iggy was yipping at him loudly.

“Omar, what were you eating?” Harmony asked. His breath was unusually sweet.

“Is betel nut,” Omar said, fluttering his breath in her face again. “Big joke on Salah. He was looking for No-Tel Motel in Bayonne but all the time motel was in Jersey City.”

Harmony could see big flares, flaring into the sky, not far away. On the ground, closer to hand, she saw several young black women with very short skirts on. The skirts were so short she could see their underpants below their skirts; the underpants
were Day-Glo colors, pink and orange and aquamarine. Eddie was still sleeping like an angel, unaware that they were now at their destination, the No-Tel Motel in Jersey City. Two or three of the young black women seemed to be yelling at Abdul, who cowered behind Salah. There was no sign of Neddie or Pat.

“Omar, what happened to my sisters?” Harmony asked.

“Don't worry, they are not marrying Salah,” Omar said. “They are looking over No-Tel Motel—has cable and other excellent facilities.”

“What are those flares—are they oil refineries?” she asked. There had been oil refineries around Tulsa, in her youth.

“Refineries of oil, yes,” Omar said. “That is why No-Tel Motel is economical facility. If refineries blow up, very big boom. Then there will be no business at Newark Airport.”

One of the black girls in the very short skirts wandered over and peeked into the taxi—she looked very young and had legs like toothpicks. When she saw Eddie and Iggy she gave a big, lipsticky smile.

“I was just lookin' to see if there was any guys in this cab,” the girl said.

“No, but did you see my sisters?” Harmony asked. “I was asleep and they disappeared.”

“They're inside, fighting off the pimps,” the girl said. “They didn't look like they live anywhere around here.”

“Nope, Oklahoma,” Harmony said. “Would you hold my little boy for a second, miss?”

When the girl picked him up Eddie came wide awake.

“Hello, my name is Eddie,” he said. “Are you going to the Statue of Liberty with us?”

“Wouldn't mind a little trip to the Statue of Liberty with you, blue eyes,” the girl said.

“What's your name?” Eddie asked.

“Oh, well, I got about thirty or forty names,” the girl replied. “Some days I use one, some days I use another.”

“What if you have so many names people forget who you really are?” Eddie asked, smiling angelically.

“Good question, blue eyes,” the girl said. “But maybe it's good to have people forget who you really are.”

“No!” Eddie said. “It's
not
good. I don't want people to forget who I really am. I want them to remember that I'm Eddie every minute of their lives.”

“Ma'am, you got a live one here,” the girl said, when Harmony finally managed to drag Eddie's box of stuffed animals out of the back of the cab.

“Just tell me your
best
name,” Eddie said, looking at the girl.

“Sheba,” the girl said. “That's my best name. But, like I say, I got a few others.”

“Are those girls your sisters?” Eddie asked, looking at the other women lined up by the curb.

“Yeah, baby, my sisters,” Sheba said.

“I wish I had as many sisters as you do,” Eddie said. “I only had one sister and she died.”

“Honey, we mustn't bother Sheba with our problems,” Harmony said. Iggy had somehow entangled himself in his leash and was squirming around in her arms, yipping.

“It's okay, let him be friendly,” Sheba told her. “We don't get live ones like him over here in Jersey City every day.”

“I would like to meet some of your sisters—I don't know anyone in New York except you,” Eddie said.

“Baby, you still don't know anyone in New York, because this ain't New York, this is New Jersey.”

They were standing under a streetlight; Harmony could see that Sheba was young, eighteen maybe, or less. She was about the age Pepper had been when Pepper left for New York. Harmony felt a sadness, that the girl would have to be hooking, so young. It was not a question of blame; she was a woman herself, and knew that it was a world in which women had to get a living as best they could. Still, it saddened her that this nice, friendly girl had to offer herself to men who drove up in cars. At the curbside, not half a block away, several of the women she had called her sisters were negotiating with men who had just driven up in cars.

“Where do you live?” Eddie asked. “I'd like to come to your home. Is it too far for Iggy to walk?

“Iggy's my dog,” he added.

“Honey, it ain't that it's too far for Iggy to walk,” Sheba said. “It's just that it ain't anywhere. I one of those girls who just live where I am.”

“But this is a parking lot,” Eddie pointed out. “People don't live in parking lots. Cars live in parking lots.”

“He's always been this way,” Harmony said. She knew that Sheba meant she was homeless. Eddie figured it out almost at the same moment.

“Mom, she's homeless,” he said, putting two and two together in ways that no one expected him to. “I want her to stay with us and I want it because I like her.”

“Honey, Sheba might not want to stay with us,” Harmony said—but it seemed that when she said it a light went out in Sheba's eyes.

“Nice try, Bright,” Sheba said to Eddie. “I'm calling you Bright because of those eyes. Your momma don't want no trash like me staying with a cutie like you.”

“Sheba, I didn't mean it that way,” Harmony said. “You can stay with us as long as you want to.”

Nothing troubled her as much as taking away hope from people who didn't have much to spare. She had no reason in the world to let a young black hooker from Jersey City stay with her and her son—but her son wanted it, and so did the girl named Sheba.