The Blind Factory by E. P. Lewis
Bobby and Ditz steal a van on Christmas Eve, and take a road trip with some unexpected passengers.
"How long, Ditz?"
"About an hour," stuttered the shivering voice. "We got time."
It was Christmas Eve and snowing large. Hefty flakes of the white stuff blanketed the van, providing natural concealment. "T-tell you the truth Bobby, I didn't even notice what make it was. I was that scared."
They were concealed alongside a single-story red brick building just off Veterans Highway. The parking lot was inadequately lit and well off the main drag. A perfect spot to hang unnoticed. They had discovered the van sitting outside a closed ACE hardware store. It was almost new and begging for a ride. "Hey," said Ditz. "You think the cops are on to us?"
"Nah. It's Christmas, man. If anyone reports a stolen car tonight, the cop who has to write it up will get nothing but pissed. Work is the last thing they want on Christmas Eve. We'll be long gone by the time they start looking for us. And so will this ride."
"I'm cold," chattered Ditz. "How about we get some heat in here?"
"I already told you; we're almost outta gas. We got enough to get to Blackie's, and that's about it. Go outside and stomp around awhile, that'll warm you up."
"What the hell, it's freezin' out there."
"It ain't that bad. Come on, I'll go with ya. I gotta pee anyway."
The boys had demolished two six packs of Miller Lite before they lifted the van. Just about now their eyeballs were floating. Bobby and Ditz slogged their way to the side of the building about forty yards off the stolen van. As they began to release large quantities of unused beer, a heavy door slammed open, throwing out a flood of light. Five people wobbled outside, led by a tall woman. She carried a stick and began whacking the van with it. "Here it is," called out the woman. Behind her, the door to the building closed. The lady with the stick then took hold of the side door and pulled it open. Four people piled in as she opened the passenger door and climbed in the front seat. When Bobby saw what was happening, he started shaking his dick like it was on fire. Shouting, "Hey. Hey you. What the hell do you think you're doing?" What with the snow and all his words didn't carry too well.
"What's happening?" Ditz didn't have a good view of the situation.
"People are climbing into the van for crying out loud."
Struggling frantically with their flies, the two would-be car thieves waddled back to the van quick-step. They looked like a couple of ruptured cowboys stumbling through the snow holding on to their crotches with both hands as they tried to reengage their frozen zippers. Bobby yanked the driver's door open. "Excuse me folks!" he barked. "What the hell are you doing in my van?"
"Were waiting for you, young man," replied the woman in the front seat. "We're ready to go now."
Ditz wandered round the opposite side of the van. With the door standing open, he peered in at the four rigid figures staring straight ahead in silence. Each wore large dark sunglasses, and each held onto a thin white stick. Shivering in the cold, Ditz stared in amazement at the inanimate individuals. The sunglasses and mute concentration were unsettling the young car thief.
The lady sitting in the front began to examine Bobby in detail. She pushed her face in so close to his, he could feel her breath. She wore thick-rimmed glasses that rendered her face small and her eyes huge. Her silver-streaked hair was bunched up on top of her head like a layer cake.
"You made a mistake lady," insisted Bobby, "I ain't your driver. You must be waiting for someone else. Come on now, get out of the van, we gotta get goin'."
"Not our van?" questioned the woman with thick specs. She had an accent that Bobby took for foreign. Letting out a little chuckle the woman turned to the four in back, "It seems as though we've gotten into the wrong van, folks." Turning back to Bobby, "Would you be kind enough to show us where our van is?"
"Lady," replied Bobby, dripping frustration. "We're the only ones here. There's no one else in the parking lot, can't you see that?"
"No, I can't," replied the woman simply.
At this, one of the sunglass wearers in the back barked out a laugh. He began banging his stick up and down on the floor of the van as he giggled and swayed. "We're blind, you idiot," proclaimed the stick banger. "Can't you see that?" Then he burst into another hilarity snorting like a pig and pounding his stick with vigor.
"Really, Mr. Farrelly," cut in the lady up front. "Just because you've had a few drinks doesn't give you license to abuse people."
Passenger Number One: Ruby Burkhart
Ruby Clark, born September 14th, 1954. Leeds, England. After completing her education, Ruby decided to see the world. She made it as far as Manhattan, which happened to be her first stop. In 1978, she met and married Detective George Burkhart of the NYPD. At the age of 61, Ruby was diagnosed with advanced macular degeneration. Her sight status is legally blind. She lives with her daughter and son-in-law.
Passenger Number two: Noland (Noey) Bishop
Noland Bishop, born July 21st, 1978, Valdosta Georgia. Without much in the way of education or opportunity, Noey decided to join the Marine Corps at the age of 17. In 2005, just outside Bagram Air Base, Noey took the brunt of a 110mm mortar. The resulting injury rendered Noey blind. He currently lives with his overly-protective son.
Passenger Number Three: Lillian Halbert
Lillian Halbert, born April 12th, 1999, Oceanside, New York. Born blind, Lillian came home from the hospital in the arms of a loving mother and a dipshit father. Her old man went out to buy bread one day when Lillian was three years old. He never came back. After Lillian's mother passed away, she moved into a one-bedroom apartment in Smithtown, New York. Lillian lives alone.
Passenger Number Four: Myles Farrelly
Myles Declan Farrelly, born Dublin, Ireland, February 9th, 1983. The Farrelly family immigrated to the US in 1995. One evening, Myles and a friend went for a joy ride. It ended in tragedy. The driver died and Myles was rendered blind by a defective airbag. After his parents passed away, Myles moved in with his older brother, a retired Jesuit Priest. The two men have one thing in common.
Passenger Number Five: William Frost
William Bennett Frost, born Smithtown, New York, June 23rd, 1997. William was born blind. His mother passed away when he was 12. His father, a High School music teacher, taught William how to play piano. At the age of sixteen, he entered the Van Cliburn International Piano Competition. He lost bigtime. William lives with his tuneful dad and has very little to say about pretty much everything.
"I told you something was wrong, Ruby," announced Farrelly. "This is a new van. You can smell it. We never get new."
"Can you close the door, man. It's freezing," said the black guy sitting by the open side door. Ditz slid it closed. "What the hell are you doin, Ditz?" shouted Bobby. "Open the damn door, they're leaving. Right now." Bobby gave the woman called Ruby a hard look. She never noticed. Her glasses confused Bobby. Why would she need glasses if she was blind? "Come on, lady. Everybody out. Your ride is probably on the way. It's snowing bad out there. Your guy's just late, is all."
"Well, would it be alright if we wait in your van until our driver arrives? It's cold out there."
"No," snapped Bobby.
"Do you mean to tell me you would leave five blind people standing outside in a freezing blizzard?" mocked Ruby, tilting her head for emphasis.
"Don't hand me that crap, lady. Just get outta the van, okay?"
"Who is this person, Ruby?" asked Lillian.
"Yeah," added Bishop. Who the hell are these guys?"
Looking up, Bobby could just make out a pair of headlights in the distance slowly gliding into the parking lot. "There," he said pointing a useless finger, "here comes your ride now." Ruby turned to look but couldn't see shit. Ditz, however, recognized the vehicle instantly. At night, on a dark street, Ditz could tell you the make and model of any car just from the headlights. This remarkable talent developed over years of hanging off Queens Boulevard at night with nothing to do.
In a panic, Ditz began rapping on the passenger window like a wood pecker. The window rolled down. "Bobby, the car." He began throwing his head sideways. "Poe-Poe, Bobby. Poe-Poe." Ruby turned her face inches from Ditz and repeated, "Poe-Poe." Then she delivered a broad grin.
Bobby whispered, "Aw shit."
The patrol car pulled up a short distance from the van, throwing on its high beams. Officer Frank Manzone climbed out. Frank was born a policeman. At six foot four with broad shoulders and a wide frame, he looked like a wall. Frank's second-most salient feature was his overly suspicious and tenacious nature. "Evening," he rumbled at Ditz. "Trouble with the van?"
Ditz wagged his head as he replied, "No officer, we're good."
Ruby stuck her head out. "These gentlemen are driving us home from the factory Christmas party, officer." Frank, glaring at Ruby, nosed his head in the window. He peered up at Bobby who looked like he was about to puke.
"You blind folks work in the blind factory here?" Frank was not known for sensitive dialog.
"Yes," replied Ruby, stiffly. "We all work in the 'Alva Sims Factory for the Blind'. Everyone except our transport drivers of course."
Turning on Ditz with a menacing gaze, Frank snapped, "License, registration and insurance."
Ditz squirreled up his face painfully as if he just stepped on a nail. "Bobby's driving," he warbled.
Frank wandered around the van sweeping his flashlight up and down looking for anything in support of his overly suspicious nature. He studied the license plate minutely. Coming up on Bobby he repeated, "Driver's license, registration and insurance." Frank believed whole-heartedly he could tell when a person was lying simply by looking them in the eye. In this particular instance, it wasn't working. Bobby's panicky eyeballs and rictus grin had somehow dented Frank's lie-ometer. Frank thought, it could be the weather.
Fortunately for Bobby, Ditz had rummaged through the van's glove compartment while they were making their getaway. Inside, he discovered the registration and an insurance card, which was about to expire. When he gave them to Bobby, Ditz pronounced the van owners name, Georgee Martinez. Ditz read everything phonetically. Bobby passed the documents over to Frank who examined them as if he were taking his Sergeant's exam. "This vehicle's registered in the name Martinez? And the insurance is about to expire."
Bobby was ready for this. "Oh yeah, that's my uncle, Georgee. It's his van. I'll tell him about the insurance," he added.
"Did you mean to say, Jorge?" queried Frank, becoming uber-suspicious at the mispronunciation.
It was cold, but even so, tiny beads of sweat began to bubble up along Bobby's hairline. "Oh yeah, for sure. I just said it American style."
"American style," repeated Frank doubtfully. Ruby piped up. "George is the English translation for Jorge, officer. Surely you know that. Mr. Martinez is our usual driver, but he was unable to come this evening due to a previous engagement. His nephew and friend volunteered to help."
"You guys are volunteers?" inquired Frank, as he snapped his head up to look Bobby in the eye again. Apparently, his lie-ometer was still malfunctioning. The boys didn't look to be volunteer material to Frank, but he could think of no way to dispute the statement. Bobby wisely held his tongue. Handing the documents back, Frank said in his most commanding tone, "You guys need to hit the road. They expect another five inches before morning." When nobody moved, Frank threw his flashlight on Bobby. "Well?"
"Well, what?" replied a blinking Bobby, flustered at Frank's demand.
Stepping off his words for emphasis Frank declared, "Are - you - going - or not? I'd like to finish my patrol and get home. It's Christmas."
"Oh, yeah, yeah, we're going. Come on Ditz, let's get going." Ditz opened the side door, climbed in, and wedged himself between Bishop, who refused to slide over, and a young woman.
Frank climbed back in his patrol car and headed for the street. "We're leaving," said Bobby with a snarl. He started the motor.
Rolling up her window, Ruby said, "You boys seemed a little anxious around that officer. Are you in some kind of trouble?"
"They probably stole this van," accused Bishop. Ditz squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.
Bobby reversed the van and headed for the lot exit. Throwing his words out, Bobby stressed, "We didn't steal nuthin', and we ain't in no trouble. What's with you people?"
Ditz piped up, "We're gonna sell it."
"Shut up, Ditz," commanded Bobby.
"We need a ride home, Robert," continued Ruby. "You have a van; we need a ride. It's that simple. Or would you rather we call that policeman back and ask him for a ride." She aimed this comment directly at Bobby's right ear.
His face flushing with fury, Bobby replied. "Okay lady, we're goin'. But the first chance I get, I'm throwing you all out. And don't call me Robert."
Ignoring him, Ruby went on. "We all have cell phones Robert, and believe it or not we know how to use them. Now, would you rather drive five blind people home or be charged with whatever it is you're doing?"
"What the hell, if you guys got phones, why don't you just use them to call for your ride?"
"I did," replied Ruby, "but our regular driver, Mr. Lassiter, has apparently gone missing. I called the service three times, but they were unable to help. Christmas Eve, you see. When we came out and I found your van, I thought perhaps it was Mr. Lassiter after all. Or at least a replacement driver." Turning toward the window as if she could see, Ruby continued, "We should hurry along before that officer arrests us."
"I don't fuckin' believe this," griped Bobby, shaking his head. "This is straight up blackmail ya know. Look lady, we got enough gas for maybe a couple of miles, that's it. After that we're all walkin'."
"Alright then, if you get us to a gas station I'll give you five dollars for gas."
"Don't tell them you have money Ruby," cried Lillian. "They could rob us."
"You guys sure got a low opinion of people, don't ya." cracked Bobby. "Five dollars, heh. Okay big spender, we're going to Blackie's." They drove past Frank as they left the parking lot. Frank stuck his hand out and waved. Bobby dutifully honked.
Blackie Summerlin owned the busiest chop shop on Long Island. He could disassemble a vehicle in less than thirty minutes. It took about an hour to make a whole new car and there were usually leftover parts as an added benefit. Frankenstein motors. It was a money-making enterprise. Blackie had cut a deal with Bobby and Ditz. Bring him a new model van before Christmas, and he'll pay top dollar. He told the boys to meet him at his shop with the wheels. It was a gift for his girlfriend who had six unruly kids. Two of which belonged to Blackie.
Ditz peered over at the young woman on his left. After a minute of study, he realized she wasn't too bad looking. It was hard to tell with those big sunglasses. He began waving his hand in front of Lillian's face. Then he turned and waved in front of Mr. Bishop's face. "Get your damn hand outta my face, moron. I really am blind," reported Bishop.
"If you're blind how did you know I was doin' it?"
"Your ass wags up and down when you wave your arm like that. I can feel it on the seat. On top of that your hand smells of... urine." Bishop made a face.
Ditz peered down at his hand and began scrubbing it vigorously with the tail of his jacket. "Hey, that's pretty good, mister," said Ditz, brightly. Bishop made another face.
Bobby turned into Blackies pulling up next to a pump. The station was mostly dark, but splinters of light could be seen behind the oil and car-part ads plastered over the main shop window. The door to the place opened, and Blackie marched out. Bobby hopped out of the van and walked over to meet him. It was snowing like hell. "You gonna pull it in or what?" demanded Blackie as he leaned into Bobby. Black grease, oil, and dirt decorated the man from head to foot. A mass of uncombed ginger hair sat atop his head. When Blackie got agitated, his thick bushy eyebrows jogged up and down like a puppet's.
"I can't right now," answered Bobby.
"What do ya mean, you can't?"
"I got people in the van."
"What?"
"I got people in the van. Blind people."
Blackie glared at Bobby like he just confessed to a homicide. His puppet eyebrows were flicking up and down like mad. "Are you kiddin'? You picked up people on a lift? Where the hell is your brain, you jackass?"
"Honest to God Blackie I didn't pick em up; they picked us up. It's a little confusing." Bobby turned to look at Ruby. He shook his head. "Look, all you gotta do is hang here for a little while. We'll come right back, and we can settle things then."
Blackie started to blink rapidly. This was something akin to DEFCON yellow. He headed for the van. As he came up on Ruby he tapped the window, and she rolled it down. "You one of these blind people?"
"Yes," replied Ruby.
"What's with the glasses? I mean if you're blind what the hell you need eye glasses for?"
"I'm legally blind."
"Oh yeah?" Blackie didn't get that at all. He peered inside and took in the other passengers. "Hi Ditz." Ditz delivered a mumbled response. He didn't care for Blackie. "So, what's the deal here lady?" Blackie spoke almost exclusively in query.
"No deal, the boys are just driving us home." replied Ruby. "We stopped for gas."
Blackie turned back to Bobby. "How did this happen?" Bobby started to explain. When he got to the part concerning Frank, Blackie threw up a hand. "Wait, wait," he interrupted. "Five blind people come out of a building and just climb into the van? What the hell were you doing, helping them get in?"
"Nooo, I was takin' a leak."
"So where was Ditz?
"He was takin' a leak too," replied Bobby, mildly abashed. "We had beer."
"Oh, that's great. So, while you two geniuses were having a circle jerk you let five blind people slide into your unlocked vehicle. Then a cop comes along to roust you? Do I have that right?" Bobby simply nodded. "Ya know, if it wasn't for the cop, this would almost be funny. Too bad, Bobby. It's a sweet lift. Gloria and the kids woulda loved it."
"You're not gonna wait?"
"What do you think? It's Christmas Eve for Christ-sake. I'm goin' home to my family. I'm gonna drink wine with my wife until she's drunk, and then I'm gonna bang her toes off. My advice to you two dipshits, drop these assholes somewhere and dump the van. Quick."
"We're outta gas," rushed Bobby.
Blackie's eyebrows danced the Macarena for a full half minute. Then, he shrugged his shoulders. "What the hell. It's Christmas right? I'll turn on the pump. You can fill the damn thing for all I care. Then, and I mean this Bobby, get the hell outta here." He turned and marched back through the deepening snow to his office.
Bobby filled her up and climbed into the van. He was out of sorts. No - he was so upset, he was vibrating. Ditz was familiar with this particular mode of Bobby's temper, and he knew what that meant. Trying to think of something useful, he blurted out, "Who do we drop off first?" The words flew out of his mouth without a single accompanying thought. This happened often with Ditz.
Bobby drew his head up sharp and started to smack his right ear. "Oh my God, I am hearing things. Strange and confusing things," he shouted, turning on Ditz with a death scowl.
"Auditory hallucinations," delivered Farrelly. "They're the worst, boyo. Drive a man insane."
"What," shouted Bobby. "What?"
Ruby broke in. "Mr. Bishop is first. I have his address right here on my phone." She placed the phone literally on her eye glasses and began announcing the address. Ditz pulled out his phone and turned on the GPS app. He tapped in the info. Bobby gaped at his friend as if he just turned into a tomato. "What the flying fuck are you doing, Ditz?"
"I'm putting it in my GPS, so you know the best way to go."
"We're not taking these people anywhere. I'm gonna find a place to drop 'em, and that's it."
"Why not?" countered Ditz. "Why not drive 'em home. They need a ride, man. We got nothin' goin'. The deal with Blackie blew up, so that's off. You said yourself the cops got no interest in us." Then in a more settled tone, "Look Bobby, we messed up is all. We gotta deal with it. It is what it is, man."
"We didn't mess up, they did," wailed Bobby. He glared at Ruby. "Look what you done to my Christmas, lady."
"I'm sorry," replied Ruby. "But..."
"Okay," continued Ditz, "so they messed up. They're blind for Christ's sake. They probably mess shit up all the time." This drew several complaints from the seats, Bishop adding for good measure, "Speak for yourself, dumbass."
Ditz turned on the man. "You know what, you got a real nasty streak, Mister. I'm trying to help you out here. If it wasn't for us, you'd be out in the snow right now."
Ruby clapped her hands together like a teacher calling class to attention. "I'd like to remind you two, if not for us you would be sitting in the back seat of a patrol car right now explaining why you're driving Mr. Martinez's van. Let's just say we have common cause. You need to keep from being arrested, and we need a ride home. Arguing over what's already past will not help."
"She got us there, Bobby," agreed Ditz. Bobby started banging his head on the steering wheel. "Okay, okay, okay," in progressive volume. "Which way, Ditz?"
"Vets highway. Hang a left and head west. It's in Commack." Silence followed.
Veterans Highway had few if any vehicles on display. Bobby was driving cautiously. Even so, he could feel the van slip on the road every now and then. Ditz turned and looked out the rear window. "Snow plow behind us Bobby. Comin' up fast."
"I'll take the off-ramp and let 'em pass. We can follow 'em to Commack. Should make the drive a little better." Bobby turned off and started down the steep ramp toward the intersecting street that ran under the overpass. Applying the brakes, Bobby felt the van begin to slide sideways. Before he knew it, they had rotated ninety degrees as they continued to glide down the ramp. Looking out the side window now, Ditz could see another snow plow heading toward the traffic light on the intersecting street. "Bobby, snow plow. There's a snow plow comin'."
"I see it," shouted Bobby as he tried to control the van. Continuing down the ramp, the van rotated another ninety degrees until it was sliding backward toward the intersection and the oncoming snow plow. Bobby had zero control. Everyone in the van was yelping and hollering with cries of, "What's going on? Are we crashing? What snow plow?" Stuff like that. Bobby gritted his teeth until it hurt. He could see the plow clearly. The enormous lumbering truck had a green light, Bobby had red. The growling plow engine was now close enough to rattle the inside of the van. This elicited several cries of uncomprehending despair. As far as Ditz and Bobby were concerned, they were all going to die.
Ditz watched the ass-end of the big grey truck pass by with inches to spare. The van continued to slide through the intersection backward. It slowed, rose up suddenly, then stopped with a jolt as the right rear tire settled in a drainage gutter. Bobby blew out a lung full of air. "Holy crap, that was close." Every passenger except Ditz started hollering, "What was close? Where the hell are we? What happened?"
"Everybody shut up!" barked Bobby. Everybody did. He stepped on the gas and, whizzz. The rear tire spun like a top, rocking the van. They were stuck. "Ditz, get out and push." Ditz climbed over Bishop, opened the side door, and hopped out.
"Ready," he called. Whizzz.
Bobby dropped his head on the steering wheel again. "Shit. Okay, everybody out. The van's too heavy and we need more push."
"Surely you don't expect us to push, do you?" said Ruby, shocked at the notion.
"All the guys can push. Ditz will help 'em. You and what's-her-name can shove on the open door frame if you like, but you gotta get out."
"I don't know..." mused Ruby.
"Look lady, if you want to get home we have to get this damn thing on the street. The only way that's gonna happen is to get out and push."
Ditz lined up Bishop, Farrelly, and Frost at the back of the van. Bishop complained bitterly that he was more than capable and required no assistance. "You're just like my son. I don't need no damn help." Ruby and Lillian held fast to the open door frame, ready to shove.
"Okay Bobby," called Ditz, "floor it." Everyone pushed. The van rocked again, then the tire slowly crept up out of the gutter. The van moved forward. And continued to move forward.
Five blind people and one car thief stood like statues in the falling snow as the van departed. Bobby hung himself halfway out the driver's window waving his arm and screaming Ditz's name. "Come on Ditz. Run for it. Run."
Ditz took one step then he looked over at Ruby. Her face turned in his direction with a question written on it. The van continued moving, making a right hand turn onto the intersecting street.
"He left us," cried Ruby.
"No, no. He didn't leave, he's just turning around," replied a worried Ditz as he stared in the direction Bobby took.
"You mean he left with the van? Left us here in the street?" yelled Bishop. Farrelly started laughing so hard his nose began shooting out little icicles. Lillian whimpered like a puppy. William remained thoroughly silent. Ruby was stamping her foot up and down in the squishy snow. She veered on Ditz. "He wanted you to run to the van so you could go with him."
"No, he was... he was telling me he'll be right back. He was turning the van around," stumbled Ditz.
"We heard him, Ditz. We all heard him. I'm calling the police," she finished, as she rummaged in her purse for her phone.
"No, don't do that. He's coming back, I tell ya. I know Bobby, he wouldn't leave us like this. He ain't that kinda guy. He just got pissed is all. When he calms down, he'll be back. He was expecting a big score tonight. He was gonna use the money to take his girl down to Florida for a week. It was a Christmas present. You guys screwed it all up."
"You gotta be kidding," squawked Bishop, "you expect us to feel sorry for a guy who didn't get to sell his stolen van? Call the cops, Ruby."
"Please don't do that," insisted Ditz, "he's gonna come back."
"I think you should listen to him, Ruby," piped up William. Everyone turned on the words because... William never spoke.
"And why should we do that?" snapped Bishop.
Farrelly tucked a hand in his coat and pulled out a flask. He took a long swig. "Calm down, Bishop. We're having an adventure, can't you tell? Van thieves, the police, a man that smells like a car axle with the name Blackie. Not to mention a near death experience with a snowplow. When was the last time something like that happened to you, Bishop? And now, William speaking. That is you William, isn't it?"
"Yes," replied William. "I speak when I have something to say, Mr. Farrelly. Ditz knows Bobby far better than we do. They're close friends. If he says Bobby will come back, I believe him. After all, Ditz did stay with us."
"You must be as drunk as Farrelly," rung in Bishop.
Ruby swiveled on Ditz. "How long will it take him to come back, Di... Good God, what is your name? I'm sure your mother didn't call you Ditz."
"Ah no, she called me Mike," shrugged Ditz.
"You're not going to listen to this idiot, are you Ruby?" objected Bishop.
"There you go with that nasty shit again. I'm telling you, he's coming back," insisted Ditz.
"How long will he be, Michael?" repeated Ruby emphatically.
"Ten minutes. Maybe fifteen. He was really pissed. You should give the guy a break already. He just lost his Mom back in June. This'll be his first Christmas without her. They were real close, too."
"So, he went into the car theft business to properly grieve?" sniped Bishop.
"For your information, Bobby never stole a damn thing in his life until tonight. He used to repo cars for Blackie, but he couldn't even do that no more. He felt bad for the people when he swiped their wheels. He's that kinda guy. This van thing was a one off. He just wanted to have a nice Christmas with his girl."
Uncertain in her words, Ruby announced, "I see no reason why we cannot wait ten minutes. But no more."
"I'll be damned if I'm waiting out here in the cold for ten minutes. I'm calling the cops," said Bishop, reaching in his coat pocket.
"What's the matter Bishop, can't handle a tough situation?" asked Farrelly. It was the one set of words that could rock Noey Bishop. "Once a Marine always a Marine, heh Bishop? Come on, we're having an adventure. Like Ditz said, it is what it is."
Ditz looked across the street. The snow was letting up some, and he realized if Bobby did come back it would be on the opposite side of the road. "Okay everybody, we need to get across the street to the sidewalk. Can you do that?"
"We can if you help us," said Ruby. "We'll have to hold hands. Come on, everyone."
Ditz took Ruby's hand and Farrelly's hand and connected them. Next, he came over to Lillian. "I'm gonna grab your hand, Miss, so don't get excited." He gently lifted Lillian's hand and plopped it into Farrelly's. Next came William. When he got to Bishop, the black blind man shook him off like he was a lump of crap. "I don't need anyone to help me cross a street, a-hole."
"Suit yourself," replied Ditz. He came up to Ruby, took her hand and began leading the group, minus Bishop, across the road. Bishop whipped his white cane and began tapping his way in the wrong direction. "Over here, Bishop," shouted Ditz. Bishop corrected his vector, almost. As Ditz watched, the blind Marine began to veer off to the right heading for the center of the intersection.
"Left, Bishop. More left. He's not very good at this is he?" queried Ditz to no one in particular.
"He is blind, after all," provided Farrelly with a chuckle. He pulled his flask again and swallowed a generous gulp. "You're wandering into enemy territory, Bishop," he called. "You better listen to the boy."
"Keep coming left, Bishop," advised Ditz. "You're almost there." He reached out to take Noey's arm, but the Marine resisted with energy. "I got it. I got it," he snapped, tapping his cane as he stepped up on the curb. "I told you I didn't need help. I ain't gonna have no car thief treating me like an invalid. I ain't no damn invalid. I can cross a street. And I can make my own toast," he finished emphatically. Ditz raised his eyebrows and shook his head. "I'll tell you one thing," continued Bishop, "your friend ain't coming back. That's for certain."
Ditz smiled to himself as he watched Bobby come round the corner real slow. Stopping along the sidewalk, Bobby rolled down the passenger window. Bowing his head like a scolded dog he offered, "You guys ready to go?" It came out really lame.
Everyone climbed in without a word. The van didn't move. "Okay, okay, okay," said Bobby, as if everyone were complaining. No one was. "I was just turning around is all. I wasn't gonna leave you."
"It certainly looked that way," observed Ruby. "You called for Michael to run to the van so you both could get away and leave us here."
"No, no, I was just telling him I was turning around," he asserted.
"I already told 'em, Bobby," declared Ditz.
"You guys sure know how to bullshit in harmony," replied Bishop, wagging his head.
"Everyone got their seat belts on?" asked Ditz. "Okay then, Bishop, you can close the door."
Pulling his head up, a surprised Bishop replied, "Who, me?"
"Yeah you. You're sitting next to the door, and you seem like a do-it-yourself kinda guy. The handle's a little behind you and about waist high. You'll feel it when you get there." Bishop stubbornly creeped his hand along the door panel until he reached the handle. "That's it," said Ditz. "Give it a good yank. The door's heavy."
Bishop swung his arm over, crashing the door closed so hard it rocked the van. "The door's closed," he announced.
"And look, you didn't catch your dick in it," piped up Ditz sarcastically.
"Please, can we stop with the language," pleaded Lillian.
Bobby leaned back, "'Lose the color, Ditz.' My mom used to tell him that when he got carried away."
"I was sorry to hear about your mother, Robert," clucked Ruby with sympathy. She meant it, too.
"What the hell, Ditz, did you tell 'em my whole life story?"
"No, I didn't. I was just explaining things while you took your little joy ride."
At this point, Bobby thought seriously about dragging Ditz out of the van and beating the snot out of him. He abandoned the idea as quickly as he considered it. He knew very well Ditz was no push-over in a scrap.
"You guys are supposed to be friends?" asked Bishop. It was an obvious question. "I'll be glad when this ride is over. These two guys are dyed-in-the-wool degenerates. How we got ourselves into this mess I'll never know."
"I'm happy we're in this mess Mr. Bishop," announced William, again shocking the group with actual speech.
"Me too," provided Farrelly with a hiccup. "It's been grand so far."
"Don't you understand, Mr. Bishop? I understand. And you should too." advised William.
"Understand what?" demanded Bishop. "That these two melon heads can't even steal a van without screwing it up. That, I get."
"That's not what I mean, Mr. Bishop. If you can't feel it, I'm pretty sure the rest of us can. Bobby and Mike don't tiptoe around us the way everyone else does. There's no pity in the way they speak to us. They don't float around like we're about to step in a pothole or electrocute ourselves. They don't murmur inane phrases of sympathy under their breath thinking we can't hear them because we're blind. We're just people to them. It's as if we weren't blind. I happen to like the way they interact with us. I like it a lot. You should appreciate what I'm saying, Mr. Bishop. Look at the way you and Ditz behave. You push; he shoves. I think you like it, Mr. Bishop. Ditz would let you walk into traffic if that's what you wanted. Your son would never allow that. He's too afraid you'll hurt yourself. Mike doesn't see you as a blind man, he sees you as a man. And you know it."
Subdued, Bishop held silent for once.
"Hear, hear," offered Farrelly with another swig. "I had no idea you were so profound, William."
Frustrated with the conversation, Bobby threw out, "How far now, Ditz?"
"One point three miles." Ditz turned on Bishop. "I bet you were a Sargeant in the Marines, right?"
"So what if I was?" answered Bishop morosely.
"Sure does explain a lot," chuckled Ditz. "The Marines must train you guys to talk like that. Or are you like that naturally?"
"A little of both I guess," replied Bishop, with a touch of reflection in his tone. He twisted his mouth to a half grin. "It was a good life being a Marine. A real good life."
"Yeah, Marines are badass," replied Ditz. Bishop smiled.
Bobby said, "I think this is it, Ditz. Can't see the street signs too good. They're covered in snow."
"Yeah, this is it. House is on the right."
Bobby pulled up to the curb perpendicular to the walk leading to the front door. "Okay, Bishop, now you can open the door." Bishop did just that. He climbed out slow, knocking his toes against the snowy curb. Ditz followed, stepping up on the sidewalk.
As Bishop stepped up, Ditz tried to grab his hands to steady him. With a flurry of swipes Bishop started to smack Ditz's hands, so Ditz returned the favor. It began to look like a sissy boxing match between midgets as the two sets of hands slapped and flew about in wild frenzy. "Is this how blind people fight?" asked Ditz, over the slapping sounds.
Bishop dropped his arms and began to laugh. It took a minute before he was able to gather himself. "You're something else kid, you know that? Look here, I dropped my cane. Can you pick it up for me?"
"I don't know," teased Ditz. "What with the snow and the cane being white, this might take a while."
"Stop yanking my chain, Ditz. I know you can see it."
"Yeah, I see it." He picked up the cane buried in the snow and passed it to Bishop. "I guess you wanna walk to the door yourself, heh?"
"Yup. If you point me in the right direction that's just what I'm going to do." Ditz lined him up pretty close to the middle of the walkway. "Okay Sarge, you're up," he said.
Bishop took off at the brisk pace of an Apple snail. The snow did not help. He did wander a bit but held steady for the most part. Ditz patiently followed in his wake about six feet back. Halfway down the walk the front door flew open, and a young well-dressed black man piled out. He postured with hands on his hips. Glaring at Ditz he shouted, "What the hell are you doing?"
Ditz looked over at the man. "Who, me?"
"Yes you. You're supposed to guide my father all the way to the door. That's what I pay you for."
"You don't pay me, I'm a volunteer."
"I don't need any help walking to my own front door." bellowed Bishop. "This kid doesn't handle me like I'm live ordnance about to go off, he treats me like a man. Ain't that right, Ditz?"
"Yeah, that's right, Sarge." For good measure, Ditz added, "You should let him make his own toast too."
Bishop wagged his head with a laugh. "Move out of my way son, I'm coming home." Ditz held his place as he watched Bishop proceed to the front porch. His addled son moved aside, allowing his father to continue his trek. Stopping at the open door, he turned. "Jeremy, get that envelope on the stand inside there. Give it to Ditz."
"What? Are you sure? I've never seen this man before, Dad. Where's Mr. Lassiter?"
"Lassiter never showed up. Ditz and his friend volunteered to drive everyone home, so give him the envelope," insisted Bishop.
"But Mr. Lassiter's been driving you all year and he walks you to the door."
"Lassiter is a dickhead, and I don't want to be walked to my own door. I wanna do it myself."
Displaying a pronounced look of disgust, Jeremy Bishop stepped inside and returned with a blue envelope in hand. Making yet another unpleasant face he thrust it at Ditz's like a knife.
Ditz nimbly flicked it out of his grip. "Thanks. And Merry Christmas," he added begrudgingly.
"Merry Christmas to you, Ditz," called out Bishop, over his shoulder. Then, the blind Marine entered his home. With his hands firmly mounted on his hips as if he were singing I'm a little teapot, Bishop's son Jeremy watched Ditz depart.
Climbing back into the van, Ditz shoved the envelope into his coat pocket. He took it for what it was, a Christmas card. "Okay then, who do we drop off next?"
"That would be Mr. Farrelly," instructed Ruby. "He lives in Hauppauge." She recited the address and Ditz put it into the GPS.
"I live in Hauppauge," repeated Farrelly unnecessarily. Then he hauled out his flask again.
Changing the subject, Ruby said, "I take it you met Mr. Bishop's son, Jeremy? He's a lawyer," she added.
"That fits," muttered Ditz. "He's a whiney fucker that's for sure."
"Color, Ditz," protested Bobby. "Color."
"Aw jeez, I'm sorry everyone. I forgot," said Ditz. "Won't happen again." Bobby knew otherwise.
Lillian rocked her head slightly. "It's alright. I think I'm getting used to it."
The roads were filling up with snow, forcing Bobby to drive even slower. Bobby's emotions were beginning to fragment. Frustration slipped up on him several times, but he knew there was little he could do about it. Grudgingly, he came to accept this hole he and Ditz had fallen into, and with that acceptance, a sort of gnarly peace crept over him.
"Are you all right, Robert?" asked Ruby, somehow sensing Bobby's mood.
"Yeah, I'm good."
"It must be difficult driving under these conditions."
"It ain't too bad. Most of the roads are plowed. We just gotta go slow is all. Don't worry, we'll get everyone home."
"Happy to hear that," shouted Farrelly. His volume increased with each slurp of the flask. He was hitting major decibels now.
"Mr. Farrelly is a writer, you know," offered Ruby. "He writes graphic novels."
"I write the dialog for graphic novels," corrected Farrelly. "They describe the artwork to me and make appropriate changes based on my story line. I have no idea if they actually do it. I've asked my brother to read the manuscripts and tell me how the graphics fit, but he refuses. He's a Jesuit priest you know. They have standards."
"So, if you're some kinda big time writer, why are you working in a factory for the blind?" asked Ditz.
"My brother insisted on it. He felt it was important for me to socialize with people who suffer a similar disability." (Swift intake of air with a little wet gurgle.) "He says I'm hiding from the world. I counter, the world is hiding from me." Then he let out a giggle with a little sway. "Can't find it anywhere."
"The world's not hiding Farrelly, you just don't see it."
"Am I that obvious, Ditz?"
"Maybe."
"Mr. Farrelly, your brother cares about you; you're lucky to have someone like that in your life," offered Ruby.
"Well, there you have it, Ditz. Apparently, I am a lucky man." Hiccup.
"Okay," said Bobby, "we're in Hauppauge. Which way, Ditz?"
"Route 111, then right on Townline."
The house was cheerfully lit up with Christmas lights. There was a Nativity scene laid out on the front lawn covered in snow. You could just make out the baby Jesus. Bobby pulled up the drive. Hopping out of the van, Ditz said, "Okay Farrelly, you're up."
Farrelly worked his way out of the van and stood up unsteadily. He waved his cane in a tight circle. "Unlike Bishop, I need a guide to my door. What time is it, Ditz?"
"It's night time," replied Ditz impatiently. "Why? You got a date?" He checked his phone. "It's 12:31. Merry Christmas."
"I was wondering if my brother was awake."
"You do have a key, right?"
"Actually, no. I tend to lose them, which upsets my brother to no end. We've had to change the locks on the house six times in the last year. I'll have to knock."
"He's not gonna get pissed, is he? I mean if you wake him up."
"God no, he's gentle as a lamb." Farrelly pounded on the door hollering, "Billy, open the door. It's me."
After a long pause, the door swung open revealing a rail-thin man dressed as a priest. He swayed with the door, clinging to the knob for stability. He took a wobbly step backward as he righted himself. On his head was a thin paper crown. In his free hand he waved a small silver pipe as if it were a magic wand. "Myles!" he declared, "You're home again. Lovely to see you brother. And who is this then?"
"Ditz, this is my brother, Billy. Billy, this is my friend and companion for the evening, Ditz. Otherwise known as Mike. As you probably noticed Ditz, my brother is a priest. A Jesuit priest."
Staring at the unsteady man, Ditz replied, "Never seen one with a paper crown and a wand before. Is that a Jesuit thing?"
"Billy, you opened your Christmas popper without me?" cried Farrelly.
"Well now Myles, you were late," slurred Billy the priest, "I always celebrate the birth at midnight ya know. Not to worry, I have four spare poppers."
"Ah, you're a good brother Billy."
"I know. I know."
Taking a tentative step over the threshold, Billy the priest lurched forward, startling Ditz who grabbed his sleeve to steady him. "Will you join us in a wee drink young man?"
"Naw, I gotta go. We got three more people to drop off and it's getting late."
It was then that a mass of unidentified garblings began to spill out of Myles Farrelly's mouth. It went on for several seconds. Ditz stood with his own mouth agape in deep shock. He wondered if Farrelly had somehow swallowed his tongue or possibly had a stroke. Turning to the priest, he said, "He might o' had a couple of drinks."
Father Farrelly delivered a lopsided grin, gave a short nod and before Ditz knew it, started spilling out the same crazy sounds. Ditz was truly perplexed, and his face showed it. Noticing him, Father Farrelly explained. "We're conversing in Gaelic, don't you know. It's the Celtic language spoken in our homeland. When My gets in his cups he likes to speak the Eire."
"Is that so," answered Ditz without the least comprehension. "Well, I gotta get goin' fellas. Like I said, we got three more stops to make." Ditz turned for the van.
"Wait, young man. Don't go yet." Billy hustled back into the house, if you can call it hustling. When he returned, he held a large colorful book in his hands along with a white envelope. He passed them to Ditz.
"This is my brother's latest novel. It's called the 'Vampire Vixens of Europa'. I expect he'll go to hell for this one."
"Give him the book, Billy. I want to know what he thinks of the illustrations." Staring straight ahead, Farrelly added, "You see, my brother the priest refuses to read them. There is no mention of vampires, or vixens, in the bible."
Ditz examined the cover. It displayed the graphic image of three busty long-tooth female vampires wielding bloody swords. It was right up his alley. "Looks good," he declared.
"Now don't forget to return it along with a lucid critique," slobbered Farrelly. "Okay?"
"Sure, sure. I won't forget. Well, ah, Merry Christmas guys. Have a good one."
Returning to the van, Ditz pushed the second envelope into his coat. Closing the door, he said, "Farrelly gave me one of his books to read. It's got these hot vampire babes on the cover. Looks good."
"Hey, let's see," requested Bobby. He studied the cover. "Can I have it after you?"
"Sure, but you have to give it back to Farrelly. And he wants a loose cricket when you bring it back. Whatever the hell that is."
"Okay, who's next?" said Bobby.
"That would be Lillian. She's not far just over to Smithtown."
As they passed through downtown, Bobby had to make frequent stops. The snow was really piling up in places and it was dark. At one light stop, Ditz peered out the side window. Then he leaned into the glass, squashing his nose. It was cold. He stared intently at a lamp post and trash can on the sidewalk. "What is that?" he said aloud. As Bobby started to go through the light, Ditz screamed, "Stop Bobby. Stop."
Bobby stopped. Opening the door and hurtling out of the van, Ditz dashed over to the lamp post, sliding the last few feet. He reached down and picked something up. Drawing it close to his body, he walked carefully back to the van.
"What is that?" demanded Bobby.
"It's a little cat," declared Ditz. "Must be a few months old. She's near frozen." The kitten mewed.
Suddenly Lillian began to bob up and down in her seat and turned her head side to side. She dropped her cane and held out quivering hands. "Can I hold her," she wailed. "Please."
"Sure," complied Ditz. "She's kinda damp, though."
Lillian bundled the kitten in her coat beside the sweater she wore. Then she busted out crying. No, sobbing. Her entire body was near convulsing. Ditz was flummoxed. William chimed in with obvious concern, "Are you all right Lillian?"
Ignoring William, Lillian cried, "Ruby, is this a miracle?"
Turned in her seat as she attempted to witness the display, Ruby replied, "I don't know dear. It does seem like one, doesn't it?"
"Okay, what's goin' on?" asked Ditz.
"Yeah," added Bobby.
"Yeah," echoed William.
"Lillian's cat died just a month ago," informed Ruby. "She didn't know if she wanted another one. It appears you've made the decision for her, Michael."
"I got one question," Bobby asked Ditz as they neared Lillian's apartment. "How do you know it's a girl cat? Could be a boy cat. Right?"
"No dick," piped up Ditz. "I know enough to know that."
Pulling up to Lillian's apartment complex, Bobby put the van in park. "Okay, Miss, ready to go home?" asked Ditz.
"Oh no," whined Lillian, "I only have lactose free milk at home. She's really going to need cream or at least whole milk."
"If she's hungry, she'll eat anything you give her. She's pretty scrawny even for a cat."
Ditz helped Lillian out of the van. He held her white cane as they made their way to the apartment. Opening the door, Lillian turned to Ditz. "Thank you, Ditz. I mean about the kitten and everything. I'm sorry I said those terrible things about you and Bobby. Sometimes the world can be a little frightening for people like us. Can you forgive me?"
"Tell you what, you forgive my colorful language, and I'll forgive your nasty attitude. Deal?"
"Deal," replied Lillian with a smile. "Oh, wait one minute while I put the kitten in the kitchen." She returned with an envelope, holding it out for Ditz. "This is for you and Bobby."
Back in the van, Ditz plopped down in his seat. "Okay, who's next?"
"William is next," replied Ruby. She recited the address.
"Gotta follow this curve all the way round Bobby. Then make a left and head back this direction."
Bobby pulled up to William's house. "You sure this is it, Ditz?"
"Holy crap, William. Did you know you live only seven-hundred-ten feet away from Lillian's apartment? It says so right here on my GPS. Hey man, you should go visit her. She's a good lookin' girl." William's head bowed in silence. "Did you hear me?" William delivered a barely perceptible nod.
Shaking her head at Ditz, Ruby said, "I think you should just walk William home, Michael. It's very late. I'm sure his father will be happy to see him." Ditz didn't get it, but he agreed.
Coming up on the Frost home, William took out his keys. "You know you really should go visit her," insisted Ditz. "She's real good looking, and I think she likes you. You got any wine in the house? You could bring a bottle with you."
"What could I offer a girl like that. I'm blind. I barely make minimum wage at the factory. She's blind too. What kind of future would we have?"
"A good one, maybe. You never know until you try."
"What am I supposed to do, knock on her door and offer her a glass of wine?"
Ditz snapped his fingers. "I got it, I got it. Milk dude, milk."
"Milk?" repeated William.
"Yeah," said Ditz excitedly, "she said she had the wrong kinda milk for the cat. You got milk?"
William started rattling the keys in the lock. The door flew open, and an elderly man stood flat footed on the threshold. "William, you're home. I was getting worried son, it's so late."
"Hi Dad. I need milk. Or cream. Do we have any cream?"
"What? Milk? We have milk and half and half. What's this about, William? And who is this gentleman?"
"This is Ditz. Him and Bobby drove us home. I'm going to visit someone, Dad, and you'll have to come along so you know where I am."
"What? Now?"
After explaining about the milk, Lillian, and the newly arrived kitten, Ditz, William, and his dad made their way to Lillian's apartment. "Who's there?" called Lillian. William identified himself along with his companions as Lillian opened the door. "William, what are you doing here?"
"I have milk," he announced heroically. "For the cat. Ditz and my dad walked me over." Everyone stood in silent expectation.
"You gonna invite William in or what?" demanded Ditz. "He came all this way for your cat you know."
"Oh yes, of course. Come in, everyone."
"Not me, I gotta get back to the van. We still have Ruby to drop off. You comin'?" he asked, directing his query at William's dad.
"Oh yes, I guess I am. Call when you want me to come get you, William. Not too late if you please." With that, Ditz and Dad headed out. On their way back to the Frost home, William's father asked, "Do you know if they felt each other's face?"
"What? Felt their face?"
"Yes, it's something the blind do. They run their fingers and hands over a person's face to get an idea of what they look like. Did they do that?"
"What are you worried about. William's got a face. They'll be fine."
"I hope you're right."
Back in the van Bobby asked, "What the hell are you doing?"
"Just walked William over to Lillian's apartment. He brought her some milk. Half and half actually."
"I'm not sure I approve," said Ruby squirreling her face up. "It's difficult enough for a person with sight to live with a blind person. I should know."
"Are you kidding. They're made for each other."
"Why? Because they're both blind?"
"No," snapped Ditz, "because he's a boy and she's a girl. It's what people do, ya know."
Bobby, looking mildly concerned, asked, "What do you think's gonna happen, Ditz? Maybe Ruby's right. How they gonna cope?"
"They way I see it, they're going to feel each other's face and take it from there."
Ruby lived in Ronkonkoma. It was short ride and a silent one. When they got to the house, Ruby turned on the boys. "I want to thank you both for helping us. I know I applied a bit of extortion to the process, but it kept you both out of trouble and allowed you to do something wonderful for a group of people in need. Now, will you escort me home, Michael?"
Ditz walked Ruby up to her front door. "There ya go, Ruby, everybody home safe and sound." Ruby took her cane and slapped it on the door. After a minute it opened. Filling the frame was none other than Frank Manzone, the human police wall. Stepping outside, Frank assisted Ruby into the house, telling Ditz, "You wait." He returned and dropped a heavy hand on Ditz's shoulder. "I'll walk you back to your van."
Bobby's eyeballs threatened to shoot out of head when he caught sight of big Frank. He almost took off. Better judgement prevailed. No one could make a swift getaway in this weather. And Frank had Bobby's license info. Frank and Ditz approached the passenger door. Frank opened it. "Get in," he growled at Ditz. Ditz got in. Walking round to the driver side, Frank twirled his finger in a circle for Bobby to roll down the window. "I got something for you guys."
Expecting a pair of handcuffs, Bobby dropped his head. Frank shoved an envelope at Bobby. "Sorry about rattling your cage, fellas. I wanted to make sure the van was in good shape. Ruby says you two did a good job."
"Ya know Ruby, heh?" asked Ditz.
"She's my mother-in-law," replied Frank, with an edge of disappointment. Then he turned away and headed back to the house.
Bobby and Ditz watched as Frank receded into a veil of snow. Ditz swiveled on Bobby. "This has been one weird night. What now?"
"Now, we lose the van." Bobby started the engine and took off.
"Where we goin'?" asked Ditz.
"You'll see."
Bobby pulled into the parking lot of the ACE hardware store. He nudged the van into the exact spot where they ripped it. Ditz started to chuckle. "Old Georgee is gonna wonder how he got a tank full of gas without going anywhere." Bobby simply nodded.
Taking up the envelope Frank passed to him, Bobby turned it over for a closer look. "Think I should open this?"
"Why not? It's probably just a Christmas card. I got one from everybody." Ditz pulled out the stack of envelopes.
Bobby opened Frank's. "Holy shit, there's a hundred-dollar bill in here."
"Is it real?"
"Don't be a dope. A cop ain't gonna pass a phony bill. It's gotta be real. Hey, open the ones you got."
After opening all the cards, Bobby and Ditz counted up $750.00. "Woo hoo," shouted Ditz. "Let's go to the 7-11 and grab some beer."
"We gotta walk," added Bobby.
"Okay by me."
from FICTION on the WEB short stories https://ift.tt/Ff8qzAW
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"About an hour," stuttered the shivering voice. "We got time."
It was Christmas Eve and snowing large. Hefty flakes of the white stuff blanketed the van, providing natural concealment. "T-tell you the truth Bobby, I didn't even notice what make it was. I was that scared."
They were concealed alongside a single-story red brick building just off Veterans Highway. The parking lot was inadequately lit and well off the main drag. A perfect spot to hang unnoticed. They had discovered the van sitting outside a closed ACE hardware store. It was almost new and begging for a ride. "Hey," said Ditz. "You think the cops are on to us?"
"Nah. It's Christmas, man. If anyone reports a stolen car tonight, the cop who has to write it up will get nothing but pissed. Work is the last thing they want on Christmas Eve. We'll be long gone by the time they start looking for us. And so will this ride."
"I'm cold," chattered Ditz. "How about we get some heat in here?"
"I already told you; we're almost outta gas. We got enough to get to Blackie's, and that's about it. Go outside and stomp around awhile, that'll warm you up."
"What the hell, it's freezin' out there."
"It ain't that bad. Come on, I'll go with ya. I gotta pee anyway."
The boys had demolished two six packs of Miller Lite before they lifted the van. Just about now their eyeballs were floating. Bobby and Ditz slogged their way to the side of the building about forty yards off the stolen van. As they began to release large quantities of unused beer, a heavy door slammed open, throwing out a flood of light. Five people wobbled outside, led by a tall woman. She carried a stick and began whacking the van with it. "Here it is," called out the woman. Behind her, the door to the building closed. The lady with the stick then took hold of the side door and pulled it open. Four people piled in as she opened the passenger door and climbed in the front seat. When Bobby saw what was happening, he started shaking his dick like it was on fire. Shouting, "Hey. Hey you. What the hell do you think you're doing?" What with the snow and all his words didn't carry too well.
"What's happening?" Ditz didn't have a good view of the situation.
"People are climbing into the van for crying out loud."
Struggling frantically with their flies, the two would-be car thieves waddled back to the van quick-step. They looked like a couple of ruptured cowboys stumbling through the snow holding on to their crotches with both hands as they tried to reengage their frozen zippers. Bobby yanked the driver's door open. "Excuse me folks!" he barked. "What the hell are you doing in my van?"
"Were waiting for you, young man," replied the woman in the front seat. "We're ready to go now."
Ditz wandered round the opposite side of the van. With the door standing open, he peered in at the four rigid figures staring straight ahead in silence. Each wore large dark sunglasses, and each held onto a thin white stick. Shivering in the cold, Ditz stared in amazement at the inanimate individuals. The sunglasses and mute concentration were unsettling the young car thief.
The lady sitting in the front began to examine Bobby in detail. She pushed her face in so close to his, he could feel her breath. She wore thick-rimmed glasses that rendered her face small and her eyes huge. Her silver-streaked hair was bunched up on top of her head like a layer cake.
"You made a mistake lady," insisted Bobby, "I ain't your driver. You must be waiting for someone else. Come on now, get out of the van, we gotta get goin'."
"Not our van?" questioned the woman with thick specs. She had an accent that Bobby took for foreign. Letting out a little chuckle the woman turned to the four in back, "It seems as though we've gotten into the wrong van, folks." Turning back to Bobby, "Would you be kind enough to show us where our van is?"
"Lady," replied Bobby, dripping frustration. "We're the only ones here. There's no one else in the parking lot, can't you see that?"
"No, I can't," replied the woman simply.
At this, one of the sunglass wearers in the back barked out a laugh. He began banging his stick up and down on the floor of the van as he giggled and swayed. "We're blind, you idiot," proclaimed the stick banger. "Can't you see that?" Then he burst into another hilarity snorting like a pig and pounding his stick with vigor.
"Really, Mr. Farrelly," cut in the lady up front. "Just because you've had a few drinks doesn't give you license to abuse people."
Passenger Number One: Ruby Burkhart
Ruby Clark, born September 14th, 1954. Leeds, England. After completing her education, Ruby decided to see the world. She made it as far as Manhattan, which happened to be her first stop. In 1978, she met and married Detective George Burkhart of the NYPD. At the age of 61, Ruby was diagnosed with advanced macular degeneration. Her sight status is legally blind. She lives with her daughter and son-in-law.
Passenger Number two: Noland (Noey) Bishop
Noland Bishop, born July 21st, 1978, Valdosta Georgia. Without much in the way of education or opportunity, Noey decided to join the Marine Corps at the age of 17. In 2005, just outside Bagram Air Base, Noey took the brunt of a 110mm mortar. The resulting injury rendered Noey blind. He currently lives with his overly-protective son.
Passenger Number Three: Lillian Halbert
Lillian Halbert, born April 12th, 1999, Oceanside, New York. Born blind, Lillian came home from the hospital in the arms of a loving mother and a dipshit father. Her old man went out to buy bread one day when Lillian was three years old. He never came back. After Lillian's mother passed away, she moved into a one-bedroom apartment in Smithtown, New York. Lillian lives alone.
Passenger Number Four: Myles Farrelly
Myles Declan Farrelly, born Dublin, Ireland, February 9th, 1983. The Farrelly family immigrated to the US in 1995. One evening, Myles and a friend went for a joy ride. It ended in tragedy. The driver died and Myles was rendered blind by a defective airbag. After his parents passed away, Myles moved in with his older brother, a retired Jesuit Priest. The two men have one thing in common.
Passenger Number Five: William Frost
William Bennett Frost, born Smithtown, New York, June 23rd, 1997. William was born blind. His mother passed away when he was 12. His father, a High School music teacher, taught William how to play piano. At the age of sixteen, he entered the Van Cliburn International Piano Competition. He lost bigtime. William lives with his tuneful dad and has very little to say about pretty much everything.
"I told you something was wrong, Ruby," announced Farrelly. "This is a new van. You can smell it. We never get new."
"Can you close the door, man. It's freezing," said the black guy sitting by the open side door. Ditz slid it closed. "What the hell are you doin, Ditz?" shouted Bobby. "Open the damn door, they're leaving. Right now." Bobby gave the woman called Ruby a hard look. She never noticed. Her glasses confused Bobby. Why would she need glasses if she was blind? "Come on, lady. Everybody out. Your ride is probably on the way. It's snowing bad out there. Your guy's just late, is all."
"Well, would it be alright if we wait in your van until our driver arrives? It's cold out there."
"No," snapped Bobby.
"Do you mean to tell me you would leave five blind people standing outside in a freezing blizzard?" mocked Ruby, tilting her head for emphasis.
"Don't hand me that crap, lady. Just get outta the van, okay?"
"Who is this person, Ruby?" asked Lillian.
"Yeah," added Bishop. Who the hell are these guys?"
Looking up, Bobby could just make out a pair of headlights in the distance slowly gliding into the parking lot. "There," he said pointing a useless finger, "here comes your ride now." Ruby turned to look but couldn't see shit. Ditz, however, recognized the vehicle instantly. At night, on a dark street, Ditz could tell you the make and model of any car just from the headlights. This remarkable talent developed over years of hanging off Queens Boulevard at night with nothing to do.
In a panic, Ditz began rapping on the passenger window like a wood pecker. The window rolled down. "Bobby, the car." He began throwing his head sideways. "Poe-Poe, Bobby. Poe-Poe." Ruby turned her face inches from Ditz and repeated, "Poe-Poe." Then she delivered a broad grin.
Bobby whispered, "Aw shit."
The patrol car pulled up a short distance from the van, throwing on its high beams. Officer Frank Manzone climbed out. Frank was born a policeman. At six foot four with broad shoulders and a wide frame, he looked like a wall. Frank's second-most salient feature was his overly suspicious and tenacious nature. "Evening," he rumbled at Ditz. "Trouble with the van?"
Ditz wagged his head as he replied, "No officer, we're good."
Ruby stuck her head out. "These gentlemen are driving us home from the factory Christmas party, officer." Frank, glaring at Ruby, nosed his head in the window. He peered up at Bobby who looked like he was about to puke.
"You blind folks work in the blind factory here?" Frank was not known for sensitive dialog.
"Yes," replied Ruby, stiffly. "We all work in the 'Alva Sims Factory for the Blind'. Everyone except our transport drivers of course."
Turning on Ditz with a menacing gaze, Frank snapped, "License, registration and insurance."
Ditz squirreled up his face painfully as if he just stepped on a nail. "Bobby's driving," he warbled.
Frank wandered around the van sweeping his flashlight up and down looking for anything in support of his overly suspicious nature. He studied the license plate minutely. Coming up on Bobby he repeated, "Driver's license, registration and insurance." Frank believed whole-heartedly he could tell when a person was lying simply by looking them in the eye. In this particular instance, it wasn't working. Bobby's panicky eyeballs and rictus grin had somehow dented Frank's lie-ometer. Frank thought, it could be the weather.
Fortunately for Bobby, Ditz had rummaged through the van's glove compartment while they were making their getaway. Inside, he discovered the registration and an insurance card, which was about to expire. When he gave them to Bobby, Ditz pronounced the van owners name, Georgee Martinez. Ditz read everything phonetically. Bobby passed the documents over to Frank who examined them as if he were taking his Sergeant's exam. "This vehicle's registered in the name Martinez? And the insurance is about to expire."
Bobby was ready for this. "Oh yeah, that's my uncle, Georgee. It's his van. I'll tell him about the insurance," he added.
"Did you mean to say, Jorge?" queried Frank, becoming uber-suspicious at the mispronunciation.
It was cold, but even so, tiny beads of sweat began to bubble up along Bobby's hairline. "Oh yeah, for sure. I just said it American style."
"American style," repeated Frank doubtfully. Ruby piped up. "George is the English translation for Jorge, officer. Surely you know that. Mr. Martinez is our usual driver, but he was unable to come this evening due to a previous engagement. His nephew and friend volunteered to help."
"You guys are volunteers?" inquired Frank, as he snapped his head up to look Bobby in the eye again. Apparently, his lie-ometer was still malfunctioning. The boys didn't look to be volunteer material to Frank, but he could think of no way to dispute the statement. Bobby wisely held his tongue. Handing the documents back, Frank said in his most commanding tone, "You guys need to hit the road. They expect another five inches before morning." When nobody moved, Frank threw his flashlight on Bobby. "Well?"
"Well, what?" replied a blinking Bobby, flustered at Frank's demand.
Stepping off his words for emphasis Frank declared, "Are - you - going - or not? I'd like to finish my patrol and get home. It's Christmas."
"Oh, yeah, yeah, we're going. Come on Ditz, let's get going." Ditz opened the side door, climbed in, and wedged himself between Bishop, who refused to slide over, and a young woman.
Frank climbed back in his patrol car and headed for the street. "We're leaving," said Bobby with a snarl. He started the motor.
Rolling up her window, Ruby said, "You boys seemed a little anxious around that officer. Are you in some kind of trouble?"
"They probably stole this van," accused Bishop. Ditz squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.
Bobby reversed the van and headed for the lot exit. Throwing his words out, Bobby stressed, "We didn't steal nuthin', and we ain't in no trouble. What's with you people?"
Ditz piped up, "We're gonna sell it."
"Shut up, Ditz," commanded Bobby.
"We need a ride home, Robert," continued Ruby. "You have a van; we need a ride. It's that simple. Or would you rather we call that policeman back and ask him for a ride." She aimed this comment directly at Bobby's right ear.
His face flushing with fury, Bobby replied. "Okay lady, we're goin'. But the first chance I get, I'm throwing you all out. And don't call me Robert."
Ignoring him, Ruby went on. "We all have cell phones Robert, and believe it or not we know how to use them. Now, would you rather drive five blind people home or be charged with whatever it is you're doing?"
"What the hell, if you guys got phones, why don't you just use them to call for your ride?"
"I did," replied Ruby, "but our regular driver, Mr. Lassiter, has apparently gone missing. I called the service three times, but they were unable to help. Christmas Eve, you see. When we came out and I found your van, I thought perhaps it was Mr. Lassiter after all. Or at least a replacement driver." Turning toward the window as if she could see, Ruby continued, "We should hurry along before that officer arrests us."
"I don't fuckin' believe this," griped Bobby, shaking his head. "This is straight up blackmail ya know. Look lady, we got enough gas for maybe a couple of miles, that's it. After that we're all walkin'."
"Alright then, if you get us to a gas station I'll give you five dollars for gas."
"Don't tell them you have money Ruby," cried Lillian. "They could rob us."
"You guys sure got a low opinion of people, don't ya." cracked Bobby. "Five dollars, heh. Okay big spender, we're going to Blackie's." They drove past Frank as they left the parking lot. Frank stuck his hand out and waved. Bobby dutifully honked.
Blackie Summerlin owned the busiest chop shop on Long Island. He could disassemble a vehicle in less than thirty minutes. It took about an hour to make a whole new car and there were usually leftover parts as an added benefit. Frankenstein motors. It was a money-making enterprise. Blackie had cut a deal with Bobby and Ditz. Bring him a new model van before Christmas, and he'll pay top dollar. He told the boys to meet him at his shop with the wheels. It was a gift for his girlfriend who had six unruly kids. Two of which belonged to Blackie.
Ditz peered over at the young woman on his left. After a minute of study, he realized she wasn't too bad looking. It was hard to tell with those big sunglasses. He began waving his hand in front of Lillian's face. Then he turned and waved in front of Mr. Bishop's face. "Get your damn hand outta my face, moron. I really am blind," reported Bishop.
"If you're blind how did you know I was doin' it?"
"Your ass wags up and down when you wave your arm like that. I can feel it on the seat. On top of that your hand smells of... urine." Bishop made a face.
Ditz peered down at his hand and began scrubbing it vigorously with the tail of his jacket. "Hey, that's pretty good, mister," said Ditz, brightly. Bishop made another face.
Bobby turned into Blackies pulling up next to a pump. The station was mostly dark, but splinters of light could be seen behind the oil and car-part ads plastered over the main shop window. The door to the place opened, and Blackie marched out. Bobby hopped out of the van and walked over to meet him. It was snowing like hell. "You gonna pull it in or what?" demanded Blackie as he leaned into Bobby. Black grease, oil, and dirt decorated the man from head to foot. A mass of uncombed ginger hair sat atop his head. When Blackie got agitated, his thick bushy eyebrows jogged up and down like a puppet's.
"I can't right now," answered Bobby.
"What do ya mean, you can't?"
"I got people in the van."
"What?"
"I got people in the van. Blind people."
Blackie glared at Bobby like he just confessed to a homicide. His puppet eyebrows were flicking up and down like mad. "Are you kiddin'? You picked up people on a lift? Where the hell is your brain, you jackass?"
"Honest to God Blackie I didn't pick em up; they picked us up. It's a little confusing." Bobby turned to look at Ruby. He shook his head. "Look, all you gotta do is hang here for a little while. We'll come right back, and we can settle things then."
Blackie started to blink rapidly. This was something akin to DEFCON yellow. He headed for the van. As he came up on Ruby he tapped the window, and she rolled it down. "You one of these blind people?"
"Yes," replied Ruby.
"What's with the glasses? I mean if you're blind what the hell you need eye glasses for?"
"I'm legally blind."
"Oh yeah?" Blackie didn't get that at all. He peered inside and took in the other passengers. "Hi Ditz." Ditz delivered a mumbled response. He didn't care for Blackie. "So, what's the deal here lady?" Blackie spoke almost exclusively in query.
"No deal, the boys are just driving us home." replied Ruby. "We stopped for gas."
Blackie turned back to Bobby. "How did this happen?" Bobby started to explain. When he got to the part concerning Frank, Blackie threw up a hand. "Wait, wait," he interrupted. "Five blind people come out of a building and just climb into the van? What the hell were you doing, helping them get in?"
"Nooo, I was takin' a leak."
"So where was Ditz?
"He was takin' a leak too," replied Bobby, mildly abashed. "We had beer."
"Oh, that's great. So, while you two geniuses were having a circle jerk you let five blind people slide into your unlocked vehicle. Then a cop comes along to roust you? Do I have that right?" Bobby simply nodded. "Ya know, if it wasn't for the cop, this would almost be funny. Too bad, Bobby. It's a sweet lift. Gloria and the kids woulda loved it."
"You're not gonna wait?"
"What do you think? It's Christmas Eve for Christ-sake. I'm goin' home to my family. I'm gonna drink wine with my wife until she's drunk, and then I'm gonna bang her toes off. My advice to you two dipshits, drop these assholes somewhere and dump the van. Quick."
"We're outta gas," rushed Bobby.
Blackie's eyebrows danced the Macarena for a full half minute. Then, he shrugged his shoulders. "What the hell. It's Christmas right? I'll turn on the pump. You can fill the damn thing for all I care. Then, and I mean this Bobby, get the hell outta here." He turned and marched back through the deepening snow to his office.
Bobby filled her up and climbed into the van. He was out of sorts. No - he was so upset, he was vibrating. Ditz was familiar with this particular mode of Bobby's temper, and he knew what that meant. Trying to think of something useful, he blurted out, "Who do we drop off first?" The words flew out of his mouth without a single accompanying thought. This happened often with Ditz.
Bobby drew his head up sharp and started to smack his right ear. "Oh my God, I am hearing things. Strange and confusing things," he shouted, turning on Ditz with a death scowl.
"Auditory hallucinations," delivered Farrelly. "They're the worst, boyo. Drive a man insane."
"What," shouted Bobby. "What?"
Ruby broke in. "Mr. Bishop is first. I have his address right here on my phone." She placed the phone literally on her eye glasses and began announcing the address. Ditz pulled out his phone and turned on the GPS app. He tapped in the info. Bobby gaped at his friend as if he just turned into a tomato. "What the flying fuck are you doing, Ditz?"
"I'm putting it in my GPS, so you know the best way to go."
"We're not taking these people anywhere. I'm gonna find a place to drop 'em, and that's it."
"Why not?" countered Ditz. "Why not drive 'em home. They need a ride, man. We got nothin' goin'. The deal with Blackie blew up, so that's off. You said yourself the cops got no interest in us." Then in a more settled tone, "Look Bobby, we messed up is all. We gotta deal with it. It is what it is, man."
"We didn't mess up, they did," wailed Bobby. He glared at Ruby. "Look what you done to my Christmas, lady."
"I'm sorry," replied Ruby. "But..."
"Okay," continued Ditz, "so they messed up. They're blind for Christ's sake. They probably mess shit up all the time." This drew several complaints from the seats, Bishop adding for good measure, "Speak for yourself, dumbass."
Ditz turned on the man. "You know what, you got a real nasty streak, Mister. I'm trying to help you out here. If it wasn't for us, you'd be out in the snow right now."
Ruby clapped her hands together like a teacher calling class to attention. "I'd like to remind you two, if not for us you would be sitting in the back seat of a patrol car right now explaining why you're driving Mr. Martinez's van. Let's just say we have common cause. You need to keep from being arrested, and we need a ride home. Arguing over what's already past will not help."
"She got us there, Bobby," agreed Ditz. Bobby started banging his head on the steering wheel. "Okay, okay, okay," in progressive volume. "Which way, Ditz?"
"Vets highway. Hang a left and head west. It's in Commack." Silence followed.
Veterans Highway had few if any vehicles on display. Bobby was driving cautiously. Even so, he could feel the van slip on the road every now and then. Ditz turned and looked out the rear window. "Snow plow behind us Bobby. Comin' up fast."
"I'll take the off-ramp and let 'em pass. We can follow 'em to Commack. Should make the drive a little better." Bobby turned off and started down the steep ramp toward the intersecting street that ran under the overpass. Applying the brakes, Bobby felt the van begin to slide sideways. Before he knew it, they had rotated ninety degrees as they continued to glide down the ramp. Looking out the side window now, Ditz could see another snow plow heading toward the traffic light on the intersecting street. "Bobby, snow plow. There's a snow plow comin'."
"I see it," shouted Bobby as he tried to control the van. Continuing down the ramp, the van rotated another ninety degrees until it was sliding backward toward the intersection and the oncoming snow plow. Bobby had zero control. Everyone in the van was yelping and hollering with cries of, "What's going on? Are we crashing? What snow plow?" Stuff like that. Bobby gritted his teeth until it hurt. He could see the plow clearly. The enormous lumbering truck had a green light, Bobby had red. The growling plow engine was now close enough to rattle the inside of the van. This elicited several cries of uncomprehending despair. As far as Ditz and Bobby were concerned, they were all going to die.
Ditz watched the ass-end of the big grey truck pass by with inches to spare. The van continued to slide through the intersection backward. It slowed, rose up suddenly, then stopped with a jolt as the right rear tire settled in a drainage gutter. Bobby blew out a lung full of air. "Holy crap, that was close." Every passenger except Ditz started hollering, "What was close? Where the hell are we? What happened?"
"Everybody shut up!" barked Bobby. Everybody did. He stepped on the gas and, whizzz. The rear tire spun like a top, rocking the van. They were stuck. "Ditz, get out and push." Ditz climbed over Bishop, opened the side door, and hopped out.
"Ready," he called. Whizzz.
Bobby dropped his head on the steering wheel again. "Shit. Okay, everybody out. The van's too heavy and we need more push."
"Surely you don't expect us to push, do you?" said Ruby, shocked at the notion.
"All the guys can push. Ditz will help 'em. You and what's-her-name can shove on the open door frame if you like, but you gotta get out."
"I don't know..." mused Ruby.
"Look lady, if you want to get home we have to get this damn thing on the street. The only way that's gonna happen is to get out and push."
Ditz lined up Bishop, Farrelly, and Frost at the back of the van. Bishop complained bitterly that he was more than capable and required no assistance. "You're just like my son. I don't need no damn help." Ruby and Lillian held fast to the open door frame, ready to shove.
"Okay Bobby," called Ditz, "floor it." Everyone pushed. The van rocked again, then the tire slowly crept up out of the gutter. The van moved forward. And continued to move forward.
Five blind people and one car thief stood like statues in the falling snow as the van departed. Bobby hung himself halfway out the driver's window waving his arm and screaming Ditz's name. "Come on Ditz. Run for it. Run."
Ditz took one step then he looked over at Ruby. Her face turned in his direction with a question written on it. The van continued moving, making a right hand turn onto the intersecting street.
"He left us," cried Ruby.
"No, no. He didn't leave, he's just turning around," replied a worried Ditz as he stared in the direction Bobby took.
"You mean he left with the van? Left us here in the street?" yelled Bishop. Farrelly started laughing so hard his nose began shooting out little icicles. Lillian whimpered like a puppy. William remained thoroughly silent. Ruby was stamping her foot up and down in the squishy snow. She veered on Ditz. "He wanted you to run to the van so you could go with him."
"No, he was... he was telling me he'll be right back. He was turning the van around," stumbled Ditz.
"We heard him, Ditz. We all heard him. I'm calling the police," she finished, as she rummaged in her purse for her phone.
"No, don't do that. He's coming back, I tell ya. I know Bobby, he wouldn't leave us like this. He ain't that kinda guy. He just got pissed is all. When he calms down, he'll be back. He was expecting a big score tonight. He was gonna use the money to take his girl down to Florida for a week. It was a Christmas present. You guys screwed it all up."
"You gotta be kidding," squawked Bishop, "you expect us to feel sorry for a guy who didn't get to sell his stolen van? Call the cops, Ruby."
"Please don't do that," insisted Ditz, "he's gonna come back."
"I think you should listen to him, Ruby," piped up William. Everyone turned on the words because... William never spoke.
"And why should we do that?" snapped Bishop.
Farrelly tucked a hand in his coat and pulled out a flask. He took a long swig. "Calm down, Bishop. We're having an adventure, can't you tell? Van thieves, the police, a man that smells like a car axle with the name Blackie. Not to mention a near death experience with a snowplow. When was the last time something like that happened to you, Bishop? And now, William speaking. That is you William, isn't it?"
"Yes," replied William. "I speak when I have something to say, Mr. Farrelly. Ditz knows Bobby far better than we do. They're close friends. If he says Bobby will come back, I believe him. After all, Ditz did stay with us."
"You must be as drunk as Farrelly," rung in Bishop.
Ruby swiveled on Ditz. "How long will it take him to come back, Di... Good God, what is your name? I'm sure your mother didn't call you Ditz."
"Ah no, she called me Mike," shrugged Ditz.
"You're not going to listen to this idiot, are you Ruby?" objected Bishop.
"There you go with that nasty shit again. I'm telling you, he's coming back," insisted Ditz.
"How long will he be, Michael?" repeated Ruby emphatically.
"Ten minutes. Maybe fifteen. He was really pissed. You should give the guy a break already. He just lost his Mom back in June. This'll be his first Christmas without her. They were real close, too."
"So, he went into the car theft business to properly grieve?" sniped Bishop.
"For your information, Bobby never stole a damn thing in his life until tonight. He used to repo cars for Blackie, but he couldn't even do that no more. He felt bad for the people when he swiped their wheels. He's that kinda guy. This van thing was a one off. He just wanted to have a nice Christmas with his girl."
Uncertain in her words, Ruby announced, "I see no reason why we cannot wait ten minutes. But no more."
"I'll be damned if I'm waiting out here in the cold for ten minutes. I'm calling the cops," said Bishop, reaching in his coat pocket.
"What's the matter Bishop, can't handle a tough situation?" asked Farrelly. It was the one set of words that could rock Noey Bishop. "Once a Marine always a Marine, heh Bishop? Come on, we're having an adventure. Like Ditz said, it is what it is."
Ditz looked across the street. The snow was letting up some, and he realized if Bobby did come back it would be on the opposite side of the road. "Okay everybody, we need to get across the street to the sidewalk. Can you do that?"
"We can if you help us," said Ruby. "We'll have to hold hands. Come on, everyone."
Ditz took Ruby's hand and Farrelly's hand and connected them. Next, he came over to Lillian. "I'm gonna grab your hand, Miss, so don't get excited." He gently lifted Lillian's hand and plopped it into Farrelly's. Next came William. When he got to Bishop, the black blind man shook him off like he was a lump of crap. "I don't need anyone to help me cross a street, a-hole."
"Suit yourself," replied Ditz. He came up to Ruby, took her hand and began leading the group, minus Bishop, across the road. Bishop whipped his white cane and began tapping his way in the wrong direction. "Over here, Bishop," shouted Ditz. Bishop corrected his vector, almost. As Ditz watched, the blind Marine began to veer off to the right heading for the center of the intersection.
"Left, Bishop. More left. He's not very good at this is he?" queried Ditz to no one in particular.
"He is blind, after all," provided Farrelly with a chuckle. He pulled his flask again and swallowed a generous gulp. "You're wandering into enemy territory, Bishop," he called. "You better listen to the boy."
"Keep coming left, Bishop," advised Ditz. "You're almost there." He reached out to take Noey's arm, but the Marine resisted with energy. "I got it. I got it," he snapped, tapping his cane as he stepped up on the curb. "I told you I didn't need help. I ain't gonna have no car thief treating me like an invalid. I ain't no damn invalid. I can cross a street. And I can make my own toast," he finished emphatically. Ditz raised his eyebrows and shook his head. "I'll tell you one thing," continued Bishop, "your friend ain't coming back. That's for certain."
Ditz smiled to himself as he watched Bobby come round the corner real slow. Stopping along the sidewalk, Bobby rolled down the passenger window. Bowing his head like a scolded dog he offered, "You guys ready to go?" It came out really lame.
Everyone climbed in without a word. The van didn't move. "Okay, okay, okay," said Bobby, as if everyone were complaining. No one was. "I was just turning around is all. I wasn't gonna leave you."
"It certainly looked that way," observed Ruby. "You called for Michael to run to the van so you both could get away and leave us here."
"No, no, I was just telling him I was turning around," he asserted.
"I already told 'em, Bobby," declared Ditz.
"You guys sure know how to bullshit in harmony," replied Bishop, wagging his head.
"Everyone got their seat belts on?" asked Ditz. "Okay then, Bishop, you can close the door."
Pulling his head up, a surprised Bishop replied, "Who, me?"
"Yeah you. You're sitting next to the door, and you seem like a do-it-yourself kinda guy. The handle's a little behind you and about waist high. You'll feel it when you get there." Bishop stubbornly creeped his hand along the door panel until he reached the handle. "That's it," said Ditz. "Give it a good yank. The door's heavy."
Bishop swung his arm over, crashing the door closed so hard it rocked the van. "The door's closed," he announced.
"And look, you didn't catch your dick in it," piped up Ditz sarcastically.
"Please, can we stop with the language," pleaded Lillian.
Bobby leaned back, "'Lose the color, Ditz.' My mom used to tell him that when he got carried away."
"I was sorry to hear about your mother, Robert," clucked Ruby with sympathy. She meant it, too.
"What the hell, Ditz, did you tell 'em my whole life story?"
"No, I didn't. I was just explaining things while you took your little joy ride."
At this point, Bobby thought seriously about dragging Ditz out of the van and beating the snot out of him. He abandoned the idea as quickly as he considered it. He knew very well Ditz was no push-over in a scrap.
"You guys are supposed to be friends?" asked Bishop. It was an obvious question. "I'll be glad when this ride is over. These two guys are dyed-in-the-wool degenerates. How we got ourselves into this mess I'll never know."
"I'm happy we're in this mess Mr. Bishop," announced William, again shocking the group with actual speech.
"Me too," provided Farrelly with a hiccup. "It's been grand so far."
"Don't you understand, Mr. Bishop? I understand. And you should too." advised William.
"Understand what?" demanded Bishop. "That these two melon heads can't even steal a van without screwing it up. That, I get."
"That's not what I mean, Mr. Bishop. If you can't feel it, I'm pretty sure the rest of us can. Bobby and Mike don't tiptoe around us the way everyone else does. There's no pity in the way they speak to us. They don't float around like we're about to step in a pothole or electrocute ourselves. They don't murmur inane phrases of sympathy under their breath thinking we can't hear them because we're blind. We're just people to them. It's as if we weren't blind. I happen to like the way they interact with us. I like it a lot. You should appreciate what I'm saying, Mr. Bishop. Look at the way you and Ditz behave. You push; he shoves. I think you like it, Mr. Bishop. Ditz would let you walk into traffic if that's what you wanted. Your son would never allow that. He's too afraid you'll hurt yourself. Mike doesn't see you as a blind man, he sees you as a man. And you know it."
Subdued, Bishop held silent for once.
"Hear, hear," offered Farrelly with another swig. "I had no idea you were so profound, William."
Frustrated with the conversation, Bobby threw out, "How far now, Ditz?"
"One point three miles." Ditz turned on Bishop. "I bet you were a Sargeant in the Marines, right?"
"So what if I was?" answered Bishop morosely.
"Sure does explain a lot," chuckled Ditz. "The Marines must train you guys to talk like that. Or are you like that naturally?"
"A little of both I guess," replied Bishop, with a touch of reflection in his tone. He twisted his mouth to a half grin. "It was a good life being a Marine. A real good life."
"Yeah, Marines are badass," replied Ditz. Bishop smiled.
Bobby said, "I think this is it, Ditz. Can't see the street signs too good. They're covered in snow."
"Yeah, this is it. House is on the right."
Bobby pulled up to the curb perpendicular to the walk leading to the front door. "Okay, Bishop, now you can open the door." Bishop did just that. He climbed out slow, knocking his toes against the snowy curb. Ditz followed, stepping up on the sidewalk.
As Bishop stepped up, Ditz tried to grab his hands to steady him. With a flurry of swipes Bishop started to smack Ditz's hands, so Ditz returned the favor. It began to look like a sissy boxing match between midgets as the two sets of hands slapped and flew about in wild frenzy. "Is this how blind people fight?" asked Ditz, over the slapping sounds.
Bishop dropped his arms and began to laugh. It took a minute before he was able to gather himself. "You're something else kid, you know that? Look here, I dropped my cane. Can you pick it up for me?"
"I don't know," teased Ditz. "What with the snow and the cane being white, this might take a while."
"Stop yanking my chain, Ditz. I know you can see it."
"Yeah, I see it." He picked up the cane buried in the snow and passed it to Bishop. "I guess you wanna walk to the door yourself, heh?"
"Yup. If you point me in the right direction that's just what I'm going to do." Ditz lined him up pretty close to the middle of the walkway. "Okay Sarge, you're up," he said.
Bishop took off at the brisk pace of an Apple snail. The snow did not help. He did wander a bit but held steady for the most part. Ditz patiently followed in his wake about six feet back. Halfway down the walk the front door flew open, and a young well-dressed black man piled out. He postured with hands on his hips. Glaring at Ditz he shouted, "What the hell are you doing?"
Ditz looked over at the man. "Who, me?"
"Yes you. You're supposed to guide my father all the way to the door. That's what I pay you for."
"You don't pay me, I'm a volunteer."
"I don't need any help walking to my own front door." bellowed Bishop. "This kid doesn't handle me like I'm live ordnance about to go off, he treats me like a man. Ain't that right, Ditz?"
"Yeah, that's right, Sarge." For good measure, Ditz added, "You should let him make his own toast too."
Bishop wagged his head with a laugh. "Move out of my way son, I'm coming home." Ditz held his place as he watched Bishop proceed to the front porch. His addled son moved aside, allowing his father to continue his trek. Stopping at the open door, he turned. "Jeremy, get that envelope on the stand inside there. Give it to Ditz."
"What? Are you sure? I've never seen this man before, Dad. Where's Mr. Lassiter?"
"Lassiter never showed up. Ditz and his friend volunteered to drive everyone home, so give him the envelope," insisted Bishop.
"But Mr. Lassiter's been driving you all year and he walks you to the door."
"Lassiter is a dickhead, and I don't want to be walked to my own door. I wanna do it myself."
Displaying a pronounced look of disgust, Jeremy Bishop stepped inside and returned with a blue envelope in hand. Making yet another unpleasant face he thrust it at Ditz's like a knife.
Ditz nimbly flicked it out of his grip. "Thanks. And Merry Christmas," he added begrudgingly.
"Merry Christmas to you, Ditz," called out Bishop, over his shoulder. Then, the blind Marine entered his home. With his hands firmly mounted on his hips as if he were singing I'm a little teapot, Bishop's son Jeremy watched Ditz depart.
Climbing back into the van, Ditz shoved the envelope into his coat pocket. He took it for what it was, a Christmas card. "Okay then, who do we drop off next?"
"That would be Mr. Farrelly," instructed Ruby. "He lives in Hauppauge." She recited the address and Ditz put it into the GPS.
"I live in Hauppauge," repeated Farrelly unnecessarily. Then he hauled out his flask again.
Changing the subject, Ruby said, "I take it you met Mr. Bishop's son, Jeremy? He's a lawyer," she added.
"That fits," muttered Ditz. "He's a whiney fucker that's for sure."
"Color, Ditz," protested Bobby. "Color."
"Aw jeez, I'm sorry everyone. I forgot," said Ditz. "Won't happen again." Bobby knew otherwise.
Lillian rocked her head slightly. "It's alright. I think I'm getting used to it."
The roads were filling up with snow, forcing Bobby to drive even slower. Bobby's emotions were beginning to fragment. Frustration slipped up on him several times, but he knew there was little he could do about it. Grudgingly, he came to accept this hole he and Ditz had fallen into, and with that acceptance, a sort of gnarly peace crept over him.
"Are you all right, Robert?" asked Ruby, somehow sensing Bobby's mood.
"Yeah, I'm good."
"It must be difficult driving under these conditions."
"It ain't too bad. Most of the roads are plowed. We just gotta go slow is all. Don't worry, we'll get everyone home."
"Happy to hear that," shouted Farrelly. His volume increased with each slurp of the flask. He was hitting major decibels now.
"Mr. Farrelly is a writer, you know," offered Ruby. "He writes graphic novels."
"I write the dialog for graphic novels," corrected Farrelly. "They describe the artwork to me and make appropriate changes based on my story line. I have no idea if they actually do it. I've asked my brother to read the manuscripts and tell me how the graphics fit, but he refuses. He's a Jesuit priest you know. They have standards."
"So, if you're some kinda big time writer, why are you working in a factory for the blind?" asked Ditz.
"My brother insisted on it. He felt it was important for me to socialize with people who suffer a similar disability." (Swift intake of air with a little wet gurgle.) "He says I'm hiding from the world. I counter, the world is hiding from me." Then he let out a giggle with a little sway. "Can't find it anywhere."
"The world's not hiding Farrelly, you just don't see it."
"Am I that obvious, Ditz?"
"Maybe."
"Mr. Farrelly, your brother cares about you; you're lucky to have someone like that in your life," offered Ruby.
"Well, there you have it, Ditz. Apparently, I am a lucky man." Hiccup.
"Okay," said Bobby, "we're in Hauppauge. Which way, Ditz?"
"Route 111, then right on Townline."
The house was cheerfully lit up with Christmas lights. There was a Nativity scene laid out on the front lawn covered in snow. You could just make out the baby Jesus. Bobby pulled up the drive. Hopping out of the van, Ditz said, "Okay Farrelly, you're up."
Farrelly worked his way out of the van and stood up unsteadily. He waved his cane in a tight circle. "Unlike Bishop, I need a guide to my door. What time is it, Ditz?"
"It's night time," replied Ditz impatiently. "Why? You got a date?" He checked his phone. "It's 12:31. Merry Christmas."
"I was wondering if my brother was awake."
"You do have a key, right?"
"Actually, no. I tend to lose them, which upsets my brother to no end. We've had to change the locks on the house six times in the last year. I'll have to knock."
"He's not gonna get pissed, is he? I mean if you wake him up."
"God no, he's gentle as a lamb." Farrelly pounded on the door hollering, "Billy, open the door. It's me."
After a long pause, the door swung open revealing a rail-thin man dressed as a priest. He swayed with the door, clinging to the knob for stability. He took a wobbly step backward as he righted himself. On his head was a thin paper crown. In his free hand he waved a small silver pipe as if it were a magic wand. "Myles!" he declared, "You're home again. Lovely to see you brother. And who is this then?"
"Ditz, this is my brother, Billy. Billy, this is my friend and companion for the evening, Ditz. Otherwise known as Mike. As you probably noticed Ditz, my brother is a priest. A Jesuit priest."
Staring at the unsteady man, Ditz replied, "Never seen one with a paper crown and a wand before. Is that a Jesuit thing?"
"Billy, you opened your Christmas popper without me?" cried Farrelly.
"Well now Myles, you were late," slurred Billy the priest, "I always celebrate the birth at midnight ya know. Not to worry, I have four spare poppers."
"Ah, you're a good brother Billy."
"I know. I know."
Taking a tentative step over the threshold, Billy the priest lurched forward, startling Ditz who grabbed his sleeve to steady him. "Will you join us in a wee drink young man?"
"Naw, I gotta go. We got three more people to drop off and it's getting late."
It was then that a mass of unidentified garblings began to spill out of Myles Farrelly's mouth. It went on for several seconds. Ditz stood with his own mouth agape in deep shock. He wondered if Farrelly had somehow swallowed his tongue or possibly had a stroke. Turning to the priest, he said, "He might o' had a couple of drinks."
Father Farrelly delivered a lopsided grin, gave a short nod and before Ditz knew it, started spilling out the same crazy sounds. Ditz was truly perplexed, and his face showed it. Noticing him, Father Farrelly explained. "We're conversing in Gaelic, don't you know. It's the Celtic language spoken in our homeland. When My gets in his cups he likes to speak the Eire."
"Is that so," answered Ditz without the least comprehension. "Well, I gotta get goin' fellas. Like I said, we got three more stops to make." Ditz turned for the van.
"Wait, young man. Don't go yet." Billy hustled back into the house, if you can call it hustling. When he returned, he held a large colorful book in his hands along with a white envelope. He passed them to Ditz.
"This is my brother's latest novel. It's called the 'Vampire Vixens of Europa'. I expect he'll go to hell for this one."
"Give him the book, Billy. I want to know what he thinks of the illustrations." Staring straight ahead, Farrelly added, "You see, my brother the priest refuses to read them. There is no mention of vampires, or vixens, in the bible."
Ditz examined the cover. It displayed the graphic image of three busty long-tooth female vampires wielding bloody swords. It was right up his alley. "Looks good," he declared.
"Now don't forget to return it along with a lucid critique," slobbered Farrelly. "Okay?"
"Sure, sure. I won't forget. Well, ah, Merry Christmas guys. Have a good one."
Returning to the van, Ditz pushed the second envelope into his coat. Closing the door, he said, "Farrelly gave me one of his books to read. It's got these hot vampire babes on the cover. Looks good."
"Hey, let's see," requested Bobby. He studied the cover. "Can I have it after you?"
"Sure, but you have to give it back to Farrelly. And he wants a loose cricket when you bring it back. Whatever the hell that is."
"Okay, who's next?" said Bobby.
"That would be Lillian. She's not far just over to Smithtown."
As they passed through downtown, Bobby had to make frequent stops. The snow was really piling up in places and it was dark. At one light stop, Ditz peered out the side window. Then he leaned into the glass, squashing his nose. It was cold. He stared intently at a lamp post and trash can on the sidewalk. "What is that?" he said aloud. As Bobby started to go through the light, Ditz screamed, "Stop Bobby. Stop."
Bobby stopped. Opening the door and hurtling out of the van, Ditz dashed over to the lamp post, sliding the last few feet. He reached down and picked something up. Drawing it close to his body, he walked carefully back to the van.
"What is that?" demanded Bobby.
"It's a little cat," declared Ditz. "Must be a few months old. She's near frozen." The kitten mewed.
Suddenly Lillian began to bob up and down in her seat and turned her head side to side. She dropped her cane and held out quivering hands. "Can I hold her," she wailed. "Please."
"Sure," complied Ditz. "She's kinda damp, though."
Lillian bundled the kitten in her coat beside the sweater she wore. Then she busted out crying. No, sobbing. Her entire body was near convulsing. Ditz was flummoxed. William chimed in with obvious concern, "Are you all right Lillian?"
Ignoring William, Lillian cried, "Ruby, is this a miracle?"
Turned in her seat as she attempted to witness the display, Ruby replied, "I don't know dear. It does seem like one, doesn't it?"
"Okay, what's goin' on?" asked Ditz.
"Yeah," added Bobby.
"Yeah," echoed William.
"Lillian's cat died just a month ago," informed Ruby. "She didn't know if she wanted another one. It appears you've made the decision for her, Michael."
"I got one question," Bobby asked Ditz as they neared Lillian's apartment. "How do you know it's a girl cat? Could be a boy cat. Right?"
"No dick," piped up Ditz. "I know enough to know that."
Pulling up to Lillian's apartment complex, Bobby put the van in park. "Okay, Miss, ready to go home?" asked Ditz.
"Oh no," whined Lillian, "I only have lactose free milk at home. She's really going to need cream or at least whole milk."
"If she's hungry, she'll eat anything you give her. She's pretty scrawny even for a cat."
Ditz helped Lillian out of the van. He held her white cane as they made their way to the apartment. Opening the door, Lillian turned to Ditz. "Thank you, Ditz. I mean about the kitten and everything. I'm sorry I said those terrible things about you and Bobby. Sometimes the world can be a little frightening for people like us. Can you forgive me?"
"Tell you what, you forgive my colorful language, and I'll forgive your nasty attitude. Deal?"
"Deal," replied Lillian with a smile. "Oh, wait one minute while I put the kitten in the kitchen." She returned with an envelope, holding it out for Ditz. "This is for you and Bobby."
Back in the van, Ditz plopped down in his seat. "Okay, who's next?"
"William is next," replied Ruby. She recited the address.
"Gotta follow this curve all the way round Bobby. Then make a left and head back this direction."
Bobby pulled up to William's house. "You sure this is it, Ditz?"
"Holy crap, William. Did you know you live only seven-hundred-ten feet away from Lillian's apartment? It says so right here on my GPS. Hey man, you should go visit her. She's a good lookin' girl." William's head bowed in silence. "Did you hear me?" William delivered a barely perceptible nod.
Shaking her head at Ditz, Ruby said, "I think you should just walk William home, Michael. It's very late. I'm sure his father will be happy to see him." Ditz didn't get it, but he agreed.
Coming up on the Frost home, William took out his keys. "You know you really should go visit her," insisted Ditz. "She's real good looking, and I think she likes you. You got any wine in the house? You could bring a bottle with you."
"What could I offer a girl like that. I'm blind. I barely make minimum wage at the factory. She's blind too. What kind of future would we have?"
"A good one, maybe. You never know until you try."
"What am I supposed to do, knock on her door and offer her a glass of wine?"
Ditz snapped his fingers. "I got it, I got it. Milk dude, milk."
"Milk?" repeated William.
"Yeah," said Ditz excitedly, "she said she had the wrong kinda milk for the cat. You got milk?"
William started rattling the keys in the lock. The door flew open, and an elderly man stood flat footed on the threshold. "William, you're home. I was getting worried son, it's so late."
"Hi Dad. I need milk. Or cream. Do we have any cream?"
"What? Milk? We have milk and half and half. What's this about, William? And who is this gentleman?"
"This is Ditz. Him and Bobby drove us home. I'm going to visit someone, Dad, and you'll have to come along so you know where I am."
"What? Now?"
After explaining about the milk, Lillian, and the newly arrived kitten, Ditz, William, and his dad made their way to Lillian's apartment. "Who's there?" called Lillian. William identified himself along with his companions as Lillian opened the door. "William, what are you doing here?"
"I have milk," he announced heroically. "For the cat. Ditz and my dad walked me over." Everyone stood in silent expectation.
"You gonna invite William in or what?" demanded Ditz. "He came all this way for your cat you know."
"Oh yes, of course. Come in, everyone."
"Not me, I gotta get back to the van. We still have Ruby to drop off. You comin'?" he asked, directing his query at William's dad.
"Oh yes, I guess I am. Call when you want me to come get you, William. Not too late if you please." With that, Ditz and Dad headed out. On their way back to the Frost home, William's father asked, "Do you know if they felt each other's face?"
"What? Felt their face?"
"Yes, it's something the blind do. They run their fingers and hands over a person's face to get an idea of what they look like. Did they do that?"
"What are you worried about. William's got a face. They'll be fine."
"I hope you're right."
Back in the van Bobby asked, "What the hell are you doing?"
"Just walked William over to Lillian's apartment. He brought her some milk. Half and half actually."
"I'm not sure I approve," said Ruby squirreling her face up. "It's difficult enough for a person with sight to live with a blind person. I should know."
"Are you kidding. They're made for each other."
"Why? Because they're both blind?"
"No," snapped Ditz, "because he's a boy and she's a girl. It's what people do, ya know."
Bobby, looking mildly concerned, asked, "What do you think's gonna happen, Ditz? Maybe Ruby's right. How they gonna cope?"
"They way I see it, they're going to feel each other's face and take it from there."
Ruby lived in Ronkonkoma. It was short ride and a silent one. When they got to the house, Ruby turned on the boys. "I want to thank you both for helping us. I know I applied a bit of extortion to the process, but it kept you both out of trouble and allowed you to do something wonderful for a group of people in need. Now, will you escort me home, Michael?"
Ditz walked Ruby up to her front door. "There ya go, Ruby, everybody home safe and sound." Ruby took her cane and slapped it on the door. After a minute it opened. Filling the frame was none other than Frank Manzone, the human police wall. Stepping outside, Frank assisted Ruby into the house, telling Ditz, "You wait." He returned and dropped a heavy hand on Ditz's shoulder. "I'll walk you back to your van."
Bobby's eyeballs threatened to shoot out of head when he caught sight of big Frank. He almost took off. Better judgement prevailed. No one could make a swift getaway in this weather. And Frank had Bobby's license info. Frank and Ditz approached the passenger door. Frank opened it. "Get in," he growled at Ditz. Ditz got in. Walking round to the driver side, Frank twirled his finger in a circle for Bobby to roll down the window. "I got something for you guys."
Expecting a pair of handcuffs, Bobby dropped his head. Frank shoved an envelope at Bobby. "Sorry about rattling your cage, fellas. I wanted to make sure the van was in good shape. Ruby says you two did a good job."
"Ya know Ruby, heh?" asked Ditz.
"She's my mother-in-law," replied Frank, with an edge of disappointment. Then he turned away and headed back to the house.
Bobby and Ditz watched as Frank receded into a veil of snow. Ditz swiveled on Bobby. "This has been one weird night. What now?"
"Now, we lose the van." Bobby started the engine and took off.
"Where we goin'?" asked Ditz.
"You'll see."
Bobby pulled into the parking lot of the ACE hardware store. He nudged the van into the exact spot where they ripped it. Ditz started to chuckle. "Old Georgee is gonna wonder how he got a tank full of gas without going anywhere." Bobby simply nodded.
Taking up the envelope Frank passed to him, Bobby turned it over for a closer look. "Think I should open this?"
"Why not? It's probably just a Christmas card. I got one from everybody." Ditz pulled out the stack of envelopes.
Bobby opened Frank's. "Holy shit, there's a hundred-dollar bill in here."
"Is it real?"
"Don't be a dope. A cop ain't gonna pass a phony bill. It's gotta be real. Hey, open the ones you got."
After opening all the cards, Bobby and Ditz counted up $750.00. "Woo hoo," shouted Ditz. "Let's go to the 7-11 and grab some beer."
"We gotta walk," added Bobby.
"Okay by me."
from FICTION on the WEB short stories https://ift.tt/Ff8qzAW
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