The morning had warmed up into an afternoon that would be barely
tolerable. A young man in grimy mechanic clothes approached rolling a
tire down the sidewalk. They shifted out of his path. Xavier's mother
glanced at her watch. Hugs and handshakes followed, the professor
saying with grave sympathy, "So much to do in this world, so little
time. Then Radix and Judy Weiner walked away to find the car.
Radix was about to insert the ignition key but hesitated, feeling no
desire to move. Maybe if they'd arrived on time at the church, if they'd
participated with other mourners in song and prayer, it might have
made a difference.
"He never got mixed up in stupid things," Judy Wiener said. "Despite
what the other kids said, he didn't really care about his reputation."
"We really got here to late."
"I mean, he didn't strike me as someone who ran with the pack, you
know, with his homeboys."
Radix leaned forward, thought of turning the ignition key, then sat
back again.
"The world is so poisoned, there's so much with violence, you don't
know whom to trust. Xavier was always straight and honest with me.
Certain things I never pressed him to talk about. Like the money he
returned to me, did I tell you? How I got my money back from that
pyramid game? How he showed up and said someone told him to give it
to me. Can you believe that?"
"Not to worry," he leaned over and squeezed her hand.
"I can't get over that he's gone. I mean it hasn't sunk in yet, you know,
and the two of them back there, so stoic about everything."
Their shoulders were inches apart; she looked tired and overwhelmed
by the morning's unusual activity. And right at that point as he
gripped her hand a rush of ragged feeling poured through some crack
in her composure. She was getting old; the years were passing and
but for her mother she was not attached to anyone, had no serious
relationship with anyone. The school was closing after all these years;
she'd have to move and work some place new.
In the closed space of the car her body tightened; she leaned her
head toward his shoulder; then just as quickly she made an effort to
compose herself, reaching in her bag for tissue and dabbing her eyes.
"You okay?" Radix asked.
"I'm fine. I'm sorry, this is not exactly the time to have a nervous
breakdown."
"Is that what you're having?"
She blew her nose. He looked at her and waited.
"Aren't you going to start the car?"
"Where are we going?"
"What time is it? It's too late for lunch break in the cafeteria. Maybe
we could stop somewhere and eat before we head back."
"To be honest, I'm not in a great hurry to get back."
Radix started the car and moved off.
"Are there any good restaurants around here?"
She was thinking they deserved a treat for the personal sacrifice
they had made; some sort of illicit fun after all they'd gone through
this morning.
"I suppose so. I live in the Bronx and I can find the nearest post office
and the barbershop…but a good restaurant?"
"I forgot you live around here."
"Well, not around here. Listen, why don't we pick up a pizza. or
maybe some Chinese? We can stop by where I live."
Judy Wiener perked up, smiling, thrilled at the idea.
Three blocks away they sighted a pizza shop. He pulled over; quick
as a wink, before he could unfasten his seatbelt, she was out the car
volunteering to get the pie; turning back to ask which he preferred,
pepperoni or…; insisting she'd take care of everything.
A little taken aback by the fresh momentum of things his eyes
followed her as she stepped away with surprising nimbleness. She
was older than he was, that he knew; but a that moment, out in the
streets of the Bronx, the difference seemed immaterial.
Back in the car she sat with the pizza box warm on her thighs. "You
know, I remember the very last day I did something like this," she
said.
"Like what?"
"Something outlandish, you know. Breaking rules?"
(from "Ah Mikhail, O Fidel!", a novel by N.D.Williams, 2001)
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 