I got to within three or four yards of her, the sweet smell of victory whistling in my ears. Dig in, I said to myself, just hang in there, champ, it’s almost in the bag… There’s the finish line… I felt such exhilaration that I must have sent off vibes. She must have gotten them loud and clear too, because-and I don’t know how she did this-I suddenly found myself with a garbage can between my legs. I went flying over it and made a crash landing on the other side, in a blaze of glory.
I got back up as soon as I could. She’d gained at least thirty yards on me. My lungs burned when I breathed, I started running again. That’s what I was there for-I had to catch that girl no matter what. Had she known my determination, she would have hung it up, cried uncle. She would have known that a little garbage can wasn’t enough to stop me. She would have faced the music.
My knee hurt. It had happened when I fell. She was slowing down, though, and I wasn’t that far behind. Without knowing it, we’d covered quite a bit of ground. We found ourselves in a sort of industrial park, with a lot of warehouses and railroad tracks running down the middle. It was not, however, one of those abandoned areas full of savage beauty-one of those places covered with rust and overgrown weeds, bathed in the supernatural light of moonbeams. It was the opposite of that. All the buildings were new, and there was fresh asphalt all around. I don’t know who paid the electric bill around there, but it was as bright as day.
Betty rounded the corner of a blue-and-pink warehouse. It was a sort of tender pink. She wasn’t really running anymore. My knee was as swollen as a little pumpkin. I dragged my leg and gritted my teeth, my breath short and my brain hyperventilated. What gave me courage was to see her finally out of energy. She was only a little ways ahead of me, and the warehouse, which seemed endless, served as a crutch for her-she had to lean on the wall as she went. I was starting to get cold now. All my clothes were drenched with sweat, and I suddenly felt the winter night get me in a stranglehold from head to foot. I looked down at my measly sweater and shivered.
When I looked up, I saw that she’d stopped. I didn’t take advantage of the situation by jumping on her, I just started walking normally-you might even say slowly. I preferred to wait till she’d finished vomiting. There’s nothing worse than throwing up when you’re out of breath-it just about strangles you.
As for me, my blue jeans were blown up like a sausage around my knee. We were getting down to the dregs now, our own little museum of horrors, like two crippled loons thrown out of the last open bar. The light was so harsh that it felt like we were being filmed-a documentary on married life. I waited till after her last heave to speak.
“Hey, we’re going to freeze to death,” I said.
I could hardly see her-her face was covered by her hair. I wasn’t kidding, either-it was all I could do to keep my teeth from chattering. I felt like the guy who takes one last look at the sunset before sinking away forever into a snowdrift.
Before we turned completely blue I decided to grab her by the arm. She pushed me away. I had had it by then, however. The drama had begun early that morning and it was now the middle of the night and winter. I felt that I had already paid top dollar for the day. I was not going to spend one more penny. I grabbed her by the collar. Her arm had not even made it back to her side yet. I slammed her against the side of the warehouse, sniffling through my runny nose.
“Having style means knowing when you’re going too far,” I said.
The night had made me mean. Instead of listening to me, she started flailing, but I held her flat against the corrugated metal-I no longer felt my strength. I couldn’t have let go of her if I’d wanted to. Something in her must have understood this; she started screaming and pounding the wall. The warehouse rang like the bells at the gates of Hell.
It wasted me to see her like that-mouth twisted, staring me down as if I were a perfect stranger. I couldn’t take that very long-her rage, her yelling, how she had me trapped there, little girl wild with anger, claws out. I slapped her across the face to bring her back down to earth. I didn’t like doing it, but I slapped her with all my might, in a kind of mystic frenzy, as if trying to chase a demon out of her.
Just then a police car pulled up, like a flying saucer. I let go of Betty. She slipped on her heels. They opened their doors. The car sent off blue light-beams, like a child’s toy. One cop did a forward roll out onto the ground, ending up on his feet, aiming something at me. An older one got out normally, on the other side. He had a long billy club in his hand.
“All right, what’s going on here?” he asked. It was all I could do to swallow my saliva.
“She wasn’t feeling well,” I said. “I wasn’t beating her up-I was afraid she’d have a nervous breakdown. I know it’s a little hard to believe…”
The older one laid his billy club on my shoulder and smiled.
“Why should it be hard to believe?” he said.
I sniffled. I looked over at Betty.
“She seems to be better now,” I sighed. “I guess we can go now…”
He put his billy club on my other shoulder. I felt myself freezing to death.
“This is a strange place to have a nervous breakdown, isn’t it…?”
“I know. It’s just that we ran all the way…”
“Yeah, but you’re young. It’s good for the heart to run a little.”
The pressure from the billy club made my collarbone tremble. I knew what was going to happen, but I didn’t want to believe it. I felt like someone watching the pressure mount in his water heater, hoping that the valves will close all by themselves. I was paralyzed. I was frozen stiff. I was disgusted by what was happening. The old guy leaned over toward Betty without letting go of me. I felt like I was grounding his billy club-it had slid off my shoulder and stuck across my stomach.
“And the little lady… how is the little lady feeling?” he asked.
She didn’t reply. She parted the hair in her eyes to get a look at the cop. I saw that she was feeling better. I took this as a small consolation prize, while waiting for the water heater to explode m my face. I let myself bathe in the softness of despair. After a day like that, I was incapable of getting agitated.
“I’d like to get this over with,” I mumbled. “You don’t have to make me wait…”
He leaned back slowly. My ears were ringing. I hurt all over. The seconds stretched out like the freestyle event of a gum chewing competition. I waited for the old guy to straighten up. He looked at me, then he looked at the young cop-still standing there, poised for action, one eye closed, legs still, stock-still. Those dudes must have tempered-steel thighs. The old one sighed.
“Jesus Christ, Richard. How many times do I have to tell you not to aim that thing at me?”
All the other guy moved was his lips.
“Don’t worry. I’m not aiming at you, I’m aiming at him.”
“Yeah, but you never know. I wish you’d put that thing down…”
The young cop didn’t seem too hot on the idea:
“I’m not too comfortable with this kind of nut,” he said. “You seen the color of his shoes? You get a look at that?”
The old one nodded.
“Yeah, but remember, the other day we passed this guy in the street who had green hair. You got to cope with it…That’s how the world is these days. You can’t get bent out of shape over things like that.”