The Willow Tree: A Novel (30 page)

Moishe was still in the workshop when he heard the door opening, surprised that Bobby had been gone such a short time, having conditioned himself not to expect him back until early in the morning. He forced himself to finish tightening the 4 screws holding the bottom on a toaster, took a few deep breaths, then went to the kitchen.

Bobby was still standing, blowing on his hands and rubbing them together and cupping them over his face and breathing into them to warm his face and nose. His eyes glowed with exhilaration, his face flushed, and it was obvious he had difficulty standing still, the excitement he had delayed feeling was now safe for him to experience and was obvious in his movements.

In the ol work shop, eh Mush? Screwin aroun, eh?—giggling and rubbing his hands together.

Moishe looked for a moment, then allowed himself to relax and smile.

How about some hot chocolate and ice cream Mush?

They sat with their ice cream and hot chocolate and it was obvious almost instantly to Moishe that he wouldnt have to ask any questions, that all the information he wanted would be bubbling out of Bobbys mouth and he told Moishe how he had outslicked those muthafuckas and how he did it and what he did an how the muthafucka never knew what happened, never said a fuckin word but he make sure he knew who it be was fuckinim up an how he cut his cheek and stick the knife right in front his nose so he cant be missin it but the muthafucka not sayin shit an Bobby jus disappear in the night an he never did hear that muthafucka say shit, he be freezin his balls off for sure up there an now theres only that muthafucka Raul left an when he getsim he be beggin Bobby to killim cause hes gonna fuck with that muthafucka somethin fierce man, an he goin be killinim for a long time, he gonna keep that son bitch alive an makeim suffer for long fuckin time, he be cuttin him all up an down his ass an legs before he be throwin his ass off the roof an hes gonna watch the muthafucka splatter all over the groun jus like Maria an he hopin there be snow on the groun so he can seeim nice an clear an be watchin his blood spread all over the muthafuckin street an he jus goin be hangin over the side a that roof watchin and damn sure be listenin to Raul scream his punk muthafuckin ass off as he be fallin through the air an Bobby goin to like hearin that man it be music to my ear an maybe I be tapein it sos I can be hearin it over an over an I be disappearin before any a them muthafuckas be knowin whats happenin, only Raul be knowin an by then he aint be doin no talkin jus spreadin hisself over the dirty fuckin spic street an maybe I be goin down an pissin on the sonofabitch or maybe jus pissin onim from the roof an all those spic muthafuckas an they can all be sucking my black dick those monkey faced pricks an….

                  …Moishe listened, feeling his head bob up and down, and his gut knot in anguish, his throat fill with tears, his eyes closed to pretend the world didnt exist, and his ears closed so he wouldnt hear what Bobby was saying, and all the time he saw and heard Bobbys excitement he could feel the pain behind it, and all the old pain of his life was resurrected and clawed and ravaged him…

           in time Moishe became aware of the sound of Bobbys spoon scraping the bowl, empty except for a stain of liquid…becoming increasingly aware of himself watching Bobby…then of the difference in Bobbys posture, the attitude of his shoulders, the deflated look and feeling coming from Bobby, as well as a sense of confusion. He watched Bobby forcing a smile on his face from time to time, eventually giving up, and, from time to time, shrugging his shoulders as if in response to some inner discussion.

Eventually Bobby got up, still silent, and sat at the table with the puzzle and leaned his head on a hand as he stared at the pieces, from time to time picking one up and looking at it, turning it over and over, lackadaisically trying to fit it into several pieces, then replacing it on the table, his hand lingering on it for several minutes before he eventually started pushing other pieces around, his shoulders slumping more and more….In time he stood and tried to stretch himself straight, but only partially succeeded then turned and looked at Moishe and started to say something, then turned and went to the bedroom.

Moishe wasnt surprised to hear Bobby having a restless night, a couple of times mumbling aloud and flailing his arms, as he did on the first night of finding one of his enemies. Nor was he surprised when he stayed in bed longer than usual the next morning, getting up sluggishly and obviously having to force himself to work out, the session shorter than usual. Moishe left Bobby alone and stayed busy in his workshop.

Bobby wandered around the apartment restlessly, then got dressed and told Moishe he was going out for a while. He wandered around the area aimlessly, feeling the cold breeze and huddling into his jacket, continuously adjusting the scarf around his neck, then thrusting his hands deeply into his pockets. From time to time he would look around, not really aware of anything except the warmth of the sun on his face and the lack of cold air blowing down his neck. He wandered toward the river, strolling across the street and almost getting hit by a car that jammed on its brakes and skidded sideways, stopping just a few feet from him and he stared at the driver who was screaming at him, then sprinted to the sidewalk, confused, not certain where he was, feeling the surge of panic and adrenaline in his gut, rushing down the street, bumping into a couple of people who told him to watch where he was going, You think you own the street you dumb ass son of a bitch—the adrenaline shoving him down the street, confused, until he staggered to the railing by the river and leaned against it, wondering how in the hell he got there and what the fuck he was doing there, suddenly shaking with fear and collapsed on a bench. He sat quietly for a while, then got up when the chill started him shivering, and started walking toward home, trying to continually remind himself to stay alert, but still he would find himself walking down a street unaware of how he got there, more and more frightened until he was almost in a total panic, sweat running down his sides as he walked faster and faster, from time to time breaking into a trot. When he finally reached the steps he rushed down, stumbling and almost falling, and leaned against a wall in the shadows, panting, trembling, afraid someone might come rushing down the stairs and he would be unable to defend himself, yet unable to move deeper into the darkness toward home…afraid too that Moishe might see him there and be pissed at him or ashamed of him and he didnt want to be embarrassed by being found leaning against the wall, sweating, unable to move, so he shoved himself off the wall and started stumbling through the darkness….

When he got home he yanked his clothes off and went right into the whirlpool, unable to think of anything else to do, aware his entire body was trembling, and when he felt the hot water swirling around him he started to feel safe and he began to relax and feel a part of the flowing water.

Moishe continued working, sighing audibly when he heard Bobby come in. When he heard the water draining from the whirlpool he glanced at the clock and realized that it was hunger he had been feeling in his stomach.

Bobby was silent and listless the rest of the day and the days following. His head was tilted forward, his shoulders rounded, and he toyed with his food, often leaving some on his plate. He continued to work out but without any real enthusiasm, and definitely without pushing himself as he had.

Moishe spent as much time as possible in his work shop, always battling with his thinking and his tongue, concentrating as hard as possible on his work; sighing, inwardly, from the bottom of his toes when Bobby would wander into the work shop and ask Moishe what he was doing. After the days of silence, Moishe wanted to let his tongue rattle on and on, but spoke very slowly to prevent that from happening, and showed Bobby what was wrong and how he was going to fix it, and Bobby would nod and from time to time pick up a tool and hold it for a while, then put it down, Moishe tempted to ask him if he wanted to fix it, remembering how much he enjoyed showing Bobby how to fix things.

Bobby suddenly became aware that he was holding a pair of pliers and put them down and nodded his head at them then turned around and walked slowly from the work shop.

Moishe had been hoping that Bobby had come out of his depression, but he continued to be silent the remainder of the day and during dinner. Bobby ate, but still without enthusiasm. When they finished eating they both remained at the table, Moishe trying to force himself to put the dishes in the sink, but, for some unknown reason, unable to move so he sat trying not to stare at Bobby, and not to be obvious when he did, his mind seemingly a blank, breathing deeply and slowly, then slowly straightened, Is long time since you see your mother, ya?

Bobby nodded his head as he continued to stare absently.

Moishe continued to look at Bobby for a moment….You think maybe you should be writing a note?

Bobby blinked his eyes and looked at Moishe, confused, Huh????

Just short—Bobby still had the dazed, confused look on his face. Moishe shrugged and smiled slightly, Maybe she worries?

Bobby frowned, You think she be worrin?

Ya, I think maybe so.

You really be thinking so Mush?

Ya—

Bobby continued to stare, then shook his head, Sheeit, I dont want the moms to be worryin, but how I be writen her a letter—looking at Moishe totally puzzled.

Moishe shrugged and smiled, A few words only. Youre alright. Safe.

The same expression was still on Bobbys face, You think the moms be really wantin that?

Ya—nodding his head enthusiastically—O ya.

Bobby continued looking at Moishe…I dont know Mush…Why she wantin a letter from me?

Shes wanting to know youre safe.

But she be knowin that Mush. I be seein Jesse when I goes to the hood and he be telliner.

Ya, but is not the same thing. I think she also like a letter.

Bobby still looked puzzled and shook his head, Okay, if you sayin so. But what I be writin?

Just a note. Youre telling her everythings fine…youre with a friend…not to worry—shrugs—Just so shes feeling good and not worry—getting up and getting the paper and pen and placing them in front of Bobby, Is easy….

Mush, I dont….I never wrote no letter…I….

Is fine…fine. Here, just say, Dear Moma, Im—

I dont know Mush—shrugging and writing it on the paper.

Moishe continued to dictate the short note. When Bobby finished writing he leaned back and looked at it….There it be Mush.

Moishe smiled at him, Ya…you do a good job…very good.

Bobby got up earlier the next morning, though still later than usual, only lying in bed a relatively short time trying to get back to sleep, and worked out a little more enthusiastically, from time to time attempting to envision Raul and how he would kill him, but unable to resurrect the image, but continued to work out, forcing himself to finish his routine, not certain why he was doing it.

Several days later they walked slowly through the neighborhood, buying a few pieces of fruit, stopping at a vendor for hot roasted chestnuts and went to the river and stood at the railing and watched the traffic on the water, bundled in their warm clothes, scarves around their necks, wool watch hats pulled down around their ears, warm gloves on their hands, silent except for an occasional short comment about something seen, feeling the cold air but also the warm sun, feeling an inner glow that obviously did not come from the sun.

Bobby was puzzled, feeling that something had sort of shifted around inside him, not knowing what, but he knew something was different, that something had moved even if it was a tiny bit like how a booster move jus a touch when he see a mark…but whatever it was he felt something new for Moishe…not like it be something gone an new thing there, but like something added to what be there…like he an Mushie be connected with rope instead a string…whatever it be, it be there an it makeim feel gooood….

                            an somehow he be seein Mushie different, like how he see those old beat up buildins. Used to be he see them like tumblin down bricks, but now he see they be strong muthafuckas stayin up there like that even when everybody tryin to tear their asses down…yeah, they be righteous the way they still standin…an Mushie righteous the way he keep standin up. Sheeit, he like some muthafuckin mountain, or that river out there, cant be nothin stoppin it or Mush.

A sense of peace pervaded the apartment the following days, Bobby continuing his routine, Moishe his, Bobby spending hours each day with Moishe in the work shop, relaxed, enjoying fixing things Moishe kept in repair for old friends. One day Moishe gave him an old hot plate to fix and Bobby found the needed part in less than 2 minutes and they celebrated with high fives and a bowl of ice cream with chocolate sauce.

That night they sat around the table talking for a while after dinner. Eventually Bobby looked at the clock and got up, I got to be goin out Mush.

Moishe put a very strong effort into not allowing the sinking feeling in his gut to be reflected on his face, but could feel that he was failing, especially when he noticed he didnt put on his scarf.

I got to see can I find my brother Jesse an see whats happenin—Moishe feeling a great relief as the churning knots in his gut seemed to flow away—You be cool Mush…an doan be fuckin up that puzzle. Bobby giggled and left.

Moishe sat at the table for a moment listening to the thoughts rattling around in his head, then shook his head and got up, No, not tonight. No philosophizing. Tonight we/re a reader, we/re a worker, we/re a puzzle putter together, we/re a whatever, but we/re not a philosopher.

The walk through the cellar to the street was like a decompression chamber, a chance to get used to the cold, without the wind, before going up on the street to be hit, literally, with the reality of the weather now that winter was closing in.

When Bobby got up to the street he stood for a moment getting accustomed to the wind, standing straight, shoulders back, allowing the wind to hit his face and get as deep into him as possible before moving. He knew he had to stay alert and you cant do that if youre worried about being cold, or protecting yourself from the wind, so he stood there, breathing deeply and slowly, until he was able to breathe normally with the wind in his face, and not have to hunch over to protect himself just to breathe. No matter what came down he was always going to be at least one up on the spics.