We moved on down a few feet beyond the platform and made our way into the dark. Darker’n any tunnel. I ain’t ashamed to say we went hand in hand.
Gimme your hand there.
I know you’re cold. Here, take my gloves.
Along the middle of the track, down the slope of the tunnel, he let go of my hand and held on to my shoulder, walked behind a pace. It was like we was blindfolded. I don’t know why we didn’t stop, but we kept on going. And all the time I’m thinking, We shoulda brought a flashlight with us. And then he’s pointing out all sorts of things in the tunneclass="underline" the strip of red and white metal on the wall, the curves, some place where a welder went on fire.
That tunnel — nobody living there, of course. Nobody could live there. Too narrow. But there’d been people through there, graffiti artists; there was that guy, COST REVS 2000, and all sorts of other graffiti, except nobody like Papa Love; ain’t nobody in the world can draw like Papa Love. We stayed close together. And I’m thinking, Up there, there’s boats on the water, and Brooklyn and Manhattan, and we’re walking under the river. We were shaking with the cold and damp. I was looking back scared over my shoulder. I was all right then. I mean, I wasn’t fucked up. I wasn’t fucked up in the head.
I know I ain’t, Angela.
Yeah, you’re cute too.
Sunshine and cigarettes.
But listen.
Just listen.
We shoulda gone back, but we didn’t. The tunnel was all curvy and quiet, and he takes the lighter and flicks it close to the ground a few times. Roundabout here, he says, is the wedding band. All I see is nothing but a pile of gravel and a few pebbles, but he looks up to the roof, the ceiling, whatever, and I asked him if he found the ring and he says, Just a minute. The top of the lighter was burning his thumb. Come on! I says. Just a minute, he says, I’m having a look here. Come on come on come on! He went closed the hood on the lighter, looks up, and says to the ceiling, Yankees are one up as we speak! I was getting scared then, and I was feeling bad, ’cause the Yankees hadn’t hit a homer at all, but I didn’t say nothing. I’m scared. So I grab the Zippo and take ahold of his overcoat and drag him along the flat part of the tunnel. No rats, no Skagerak, no Barents, nothing — just our breath — and he says, I remember, and I says, Remember what? and he says, I disremember.
And I says, Come on.
Holy Name, he says, which is what he said sometimes.
Move it! I says. So I reach backward and drag him by the sleeve. I’m trying to keep the Zippo lit, but it keeps flaring out on me. Keeping well away from the third rail and all. Down the center of the tracks. Faster and faster, me tugging at the overcoat. He can hardly move, and, me, I’m wondering if I might have to carry him.
I’m all right, leave me alone, Angie. I’m all right.
Angie. Angela. Whatever.
Just listen.
Maybe he felt some youngness going on through him, some shit like that, eighty-nine years old but suddenly nineteen; he mighta been following himself into his past — one, two, three, strike, return — and he mighta been rising once more — through the tunnel and the river and all — but he’s not. I’m just dragging him along, and in the distance we see the lights from the subway station — they’re still a ways away — and I’m screaming now, screaming, Come on! Come on! He stops for a moment and puts his hands on his knees and bends over and says, I haven’t felt this good in years.
And then he was just standing, staring. Maybe he recognized the corner. Maybe he was remembering things. But he weren’t moving. So I tugged him harder and harder. His feet going thump-thump on the ground and I see the platform and I’m thinking, Man, we’re home free, we are home free. We get there, right? We’ve walked under the river. All the way, one side to the other. He puts his walking stick up, and then I hear the rumble and a big blast of horn explodes from a train and two headlights flare far away, and me — I’m quick — me, I’m up on the platform and reaching down to grab him, under the armpits, pull him up — lights of the train coming — and one hand slips and he grabs again and the hat falls — that’s what’s horrible, you know, it’s the tea cosy; it’s the stupidest thing in the world — and he reaches to get it, and I try to grab him, and him, he looks at me, and I swear to whatever be up there — I swear, I swear it, I loved him, I loved him, I loved him, Angie — he was looking up at me, and his face was wanting to be saying, it was like it was saying, What do we do now, son, now that we’re happy?
* * *
There is this dream: Clarence Nathan is chopping his hands off and sucking out the marrow in his bones until there is a hollow corridor along which he walks, as high with despair as Manhattan.
* * *
Dancesca looked after me. She was sad as hell too. And Lenora, there was no end of crying. She even put his walking stick in her aquarium, but it kept falling out. I mean, nobody been missed more in the world more’n that old man been missed. I keep seeing it in my head — the train dragging him along and along. And me there on the platform screaming. And the train wheels screeching. And then all of a sudden the biggest silence you ever did hear. I couldn’t do nothing after that. I was paralyzed. Nothing there in my hands. I loved him more’n any man can love a man.
No, I ain’t sad.
I ain’t crying.
I said I ain’t.
And see here, see this — see — this is when I first done this. See, I’m thinking about murdering my hands and everything I touch — shit — I touch everything twice like this. Or this. Still do it sometimes, but not that much. Just habit now. But — back then — if I can’t touch it twice I go crazy, like someone’s gone hollowed out half my body. I went back to the ’scrapers but I weren’t doing much good, took me a long time to climb, my head’s going thump thump and I know they’re thinking about firing me. So, one night, I stayed up there on the top of the ’scraper — we were up to forty-seven floors then — with this friend of mine, Cricket. He gave the guards a few bucks so they’d leave us alone. It was cold, the stars were out. I was feeling terrible; my head was going thump thump thump thump. The steel was treacherous ’cause it had rained earlier and froze a little. The city was all lit up, like it is sometimes.
You see, to me it was like one of those photos where all the lights are blurry ’cause the shutter’s left on, know what I’m saying?
We went up the ladder, we was buzzing a little, we drank a couple of beers. Cricket kept saying, You must be out of your mind. But I was thinking about my grandfather and nothing was gonna stop me. We got to the decking and I went up one of the beams that goes like an X. No problem, but Cricket he’s a bit jittery on account of being a little buzzing. Eventually he came on up too, I never seen him climb so slow. I took the cigarettes outa my pocket.
Anyways, I lit one of them and tossed it in the air to the other end of the beam where Cricket was, but he kept missing them mostly. I didn’t have any candles, but you shoulda seen those little red ends going through the air. Once or twice Cricket caught one and he’d cup his hands around it, but most of them cigarettes fell right over the side of the building, caught by the nets down below, I suppose. But you shoulda seen those little red ends. Like this. I musta lit two packs. Flinging them through the air. And I sat on that beam all night long, and I ain’t ashamed to tell you that I cried like a baby. I just sat there and kept trying to throw those cigarettes all night long, ’cause it was the only thing I could think of.
And that was when I stamped a cigarette down. That was the first time, I s’pose.
Shit, yeah, it hurt but I didn’t feel it.
Burnt a little hole on the back of this hand, like a crater. Then this hand, before Cricket could stop me. He took ahold of me and he said, I’m sorry, man. Put his arms around me and said, It’s gonna be all right. Before morning we went home and Dancesca, she’s all frantic, she’s going crazy, sits me down, she’s all loving me and all, she put some of her poultice on my hand. She had this family poultice recipe.