Enough deprecation. Save philosophy for the silhouette of a man ready to leap into the waters. I could just make him out in the downpour. Though I couldn’t see him clearly, I sensed where the figure would land before he even leapt. I wasn’t sure if it was a giant raindrop falling from a cold steel cloud or a human tear straight from the creator. Instinct on my shoulders, I took deep breaths preparing for the dive to make things right. Occasionally there are times in life when you know you’re standing or in this case floating in the right place. When life collides in order.
A brief flash of light, the body torpedoed past me. I followed the human form into oblivion. We were raindrops racing down a window. I shot through the glassy rain and slowly became the drop of water caught up in the race. A rare occasion of peace. I’m not sure he even knew I was there. He thought he was alone. That he found the only place among the eight million that he could die in silence.
{X}
HE WAS WRONG. EITHER WE would die together or live together. It wasn’t his choice. Next thing I knew I was back above the water. Under the last bit of strong light before a patch of darkness, I recognized the suicide diver as Lars Wildman. We passed the Brooklyn Bridge, floating out into New York harbor. The shock sent me unexpectedly underwater. He pulled me to the surface. I looked at him, then at the Statue of Liberty. I could see up freedom’s skirt and taste the bitch’s freshly fucked cunt.
There were more than a few shores to aim for. Effortless drifting could strand us on Governors Island and leave a lot of explaining to do. Harbor patrol was visible in the distance. So far the cops were useless and landing there would just bring more rubber badges and plastic pistols. In a strange way I never felt so free. I was too small for the big ships to see, while any small patrol vessels seemed to fly by at blurring speeds. It was as if I didn’t even exist.
Of all people to share this moment with, it made sense it was Lars. People coasted in and out of our lives, but somehow our friendship survived. Lars was born a success and I piled up scarcely read pages. We swam through this world, pulled by an invisible current. Then it was over as if it never happened.
“My lungs.” Blue skinned missing air.
“My head is burning up. My whole body aches.”
“Motherfucker pushed me off the Brooklyn Bridge.”
“Who?”
“You know who.” Lars fighting the spasms in his chest.
“Nobody.”
“Somebody. Farrow why the hell were you doing the backstroke in the East River anyway?”
“What the hell were you doing jumping... I mean… getting thrown off the Brooklyn Bridge, Lars?”
“You know as well as I do that everything that doesn’t end in orgasm or death is just a hustle to write more. Writing lately?”
“Lust Demented.”
“I dig it.”
“That’s not the title.”
“It should be.”
“It is. I was just testing it out on you. What the fuck do you want? I’m washed up. I traded my last book for a murder rap and an invisible woman.”
“Could’ve been worse… you could’ve traded it for love.”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
“I got a new book too Farrow.”
“What’s it about?”
“The usual. I found a sacred spot to write it this time. The roof of the library on Forty-Deuce. I know a few of the guards there. They used to do security at The Featherton building. When they’re not working, I sneak in jewel-thief style. Write my ass off.”
“The spot to get it done.”
“I sit out on the ledge and leave my body behind. I turn into a gargoyle on the side of the building. A stone statue that nothing can harm. Same as my old man was, except he was more on the lines of Michelangelo’s Moses. Sitting proud… unashamed. Not lurching no matter how many motherfuckers were bashing at his knees with hammers and chisels.”
“Lars… your father…”
“Got what was coming to him. We all will. Be it just in death. I know you were the first one to find him Farrow. The whole city knows. Probably the entire fucking country. Maybe the world. In a few days when another gorgeous slaughter takes the headlines they’ll forget… but I won’t. All I want to know is if it makes you angry that someone else managed to take revenge before you even showed up?” Lars vocalized with a creepy inflection that summoned the serpents hiding under the Red Hook docks.
“I didn’t want revenge.”
“We all breathe evil.” Merciless, the night indiscriminately pelted on, keeping most everyone off the street.
{XI}
“HAWAII TOLD ME WHAT HAPPENED.” Lars dropped the hurt on me as we both stared at the factory wall. It was graffiti that some people could crawl into and find brightly colored love in a crumbling land.
“I don’t have anything to say about that Lars.”
“I’m sorry I never said anything. You were just sitting in Queens writing your new book Lust Demented or whatever the fuck it’s called… and…” Lar slunk back. The banshee harem got the best of him.
“I didn’t want to bring a kid into the world that the mother didn’t want. Honestly, it still tears through my heart.” Last I heard Missy had Hawaii end the pregnancy for her. The whole situation left me disabled for some time.
“Fucked that everybody knows, but you Farrow…” Lars took a deep breath and I figured that I better do the same. “A while back Hawaii told me that when Missy showed up for the abortion… she couldn’t go through with it. I guess Missy was crying buckets… she was only six weeks, but the hormones hit her already… you know all filled up with maternal emotions… and Hawaii isn’t good with that. As a rule she never operates on people she knows, but Missy kept pushing and pushing until she got her way. I think Hawaii was just trying to get Missy off the operating table and she said…” Lars looked authentically upset. We were both soaked from the river, but it was clear that his eyes were tearing up with mine.
“What… what could she have said that made a difference?”
“Hawaii told Missy to… Sorry Farrow I think you should talk to her yourself. She should tell you.”
“Lars I’ll fucking kill you if you don’t tell me.”
“Fuck you Farrow you don’t want to know… trust me.”
“Lars… sometimes I hate your fucking guts, but I got your back to the end.”
Lars fell into the mural, banging his head rhythmically against the wildstyle until the words leaked out of him. “Hawaii told Missy that she could have everything she ever dreamed of. All she would have to do is go to Percy and tell him it was his baby. So that’s what she did.”
“How? What? How could he be so stupid? He’d never believe that. That would never work.”
“Missy fucked his brains out that night and every day after that. She controlled the old man. It was only a matter of six weeks. So by the time she was showing: The truth didn’t matter anymore. Someone had to take care of your baby.”
“Do you think he knew?”
“You know my father. If he did, he wouldn’t let anyone know. Either way it was working out for both of them until Missy lost the baby. Shortly after the miscarriage… I ran into her in Union Square passing through the farmers market. Dumb to the fact, I congratulated her. The words barely left my mouth when I noticed her face drop. She didn’t have to say anything. You two would’ve made a good-looking kid. A cool little bastard.”