Drowning in the East River (4 page)

David opened the cabinet, and slowly brought a loaf of bread down onto the counter. He looked down at the bread; he closed his eyes, fighting to keep his composure under control. He grabbed a nearby knife.

"I understand that," David snapped, looking up at her. The knife was white knuckled in his fingers, and crashed loudly on the tile floor. He looked up at her and ran his fingers through his hair as he dropped to his knees to pick up the knife.

His eyes shot towards the living room. Thomas was fast asleep in his crib. He kicked his legs and shuffled on the mattress at the sudden noise in the living room, but he didn't wake up. "Look Anna, I'm sorry. Is there any way you can keep Tommy for the night?”

"All night?" Anna asked; her eyes scrutinizing him harshly. She turned up her nose at him, judgement dripping from her expression. She unhooked the top button on her blouse, fanning herself with the back of her hand. She took two steps toward him. "You've been drinking, haven't you?”

"I'll be back in the morning," David added quickly, anticipating her next question. He looked down at his hands; he could feel them trembling violently as he held them at his side. He plunged them deep into his pockets, as he looked up at her. "I just need a little more time-“

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Anna moved across the room to meet him. She took off her apron and draped it over one of the chairs as she moved into the kitchen. "I've been here all day watching your son, and you've been out drinking? You were with that whore, weren't you? Do you think Jessica didn't know about that slut you kept?”

David took off his glasses and painfully rubbed the bridge of his nose. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to bring relief to his aching eyes. His tear ducts felt dry and they burned. "She isn't..." His voice was quiet, exhausted. He stopped, not wanting to justify anything to her. He continued, speaking slowly in a fight to keep his voice even. "Can you watch him, or can't you?”

"I suppose the boy needs some kind of guardian," Anna said, simply. She turned and looked toward Thomas. The baby was in his crib, sleeping in his own world. When she turned back to face David, her eyes were harsh as she looked him over quickly, her words cutting. "If it's not going to be his father." She stopped, tucking a strand of her dark hair into her prim up-do.

"I'll be back in the morning," David said. He didn't meet her eyes as he turned to leave the apartment. As he put his hand on the doorknob, he turned around a final time to speak to her. He thought for a moment more, simplicity was better. He coughed, keeping his voice even. "Thank you, Anna.”

He didn't stop to wait for a reply as he exited the room, the think wooden door slamming behind him.

He took the stairs two at a time as he moved back towards the front entrance of the building. An embarrassed flush was spreading over his face as he moved, his cheeks starting to burn.

CHAPTER TWO

Stepping out onto the pavement, David pulled his cap off, and wiped the layer of greasy sweat off his forehead. Strands of hair stuck to his forehead in the humid night air. He ran a tired hand through his hair, pushing the annoying strands away from his eyes.

Heavy darkness fell over New York as David trudged uptown along Second Avenue. This part of the city was largely residential, and an uneasy restlessness hung over large stretches of the sleepy, brownstone lined blocks.

David paused long enough to step around the open cellar door of Santino's Deli on the corner of 46th Street and Second Avenue.

Ever since coming back from Europe, David constantly heard how brave he was. Instead of feeling like the returning hero, he felt like a failure.

Closing his eyes, David forced his breathing to be steady as he drifted further away from the apartment. The weight sitting on his chest gradually dissipated as David wallowed in the pulsating silence in his ears. He slid his hands deep into his pockets, toying with the book of matches and pack of cigarettes weighing down his pants.

Occasionally the sound of fights drifted out of the buildings as David passed under the wide open widows. Up and down the block, windows and doors were propped wide open in hopes of catching any breeze in the still and stagnant night air. Even the laundry on the lines stretching far above the street were unnaturally still.

David dug a match out of his pocket and struck a cigarette. He took a comforting drag as he turned on 58th Street.

David glanced up into the washed out night sky as he slowly released the lung full of smoke. He stopped walking. It had been a long time since he'd looked up at the night sky, and there seemed to be half the number of stars then he remembered. He took another puff off the cigarette dangling from his lips. Nausea churned in his stomach, sending a sickening pulse through his muscles.

The Birchwood was a quaint neighborhood bar nestled in the basement of a brownstone on the corner of 61st Street and Second Avenue. Looking around the quiet street corner, David stubbed his cigarette out on the rim of a trashcan as he turned into the bar’s main entrance. The narrow wooden door opened up onto an even tighter staircase. Stepping inside, he felt weighed down by the heavy air, smelling of musty body odor.

The stairway opened right up into the bar. A comfortable, dark space, most of the cliental were regulars who had been coming to The Birchwood for decades. There was a feeling of former glamour to it, but the ornate, emerald wallpaper was starting to fade. The elegant wood paneling was starting to chip and peel with age. It wouldn't be long before the building would be in need of a good renovation.

David sat down at his usual barstool, taking a cursory glance towards the bored looking bartender. A calm stillness hung over the room, the small handful of drinkers all lost in their own problems. The only real noise came from a friendly game of darts in the back corner of the bar.

Somewhere across the room, a piano played a vaguely familiar tune.

The bartender looked over at David, and took a step towards the liquor bottles which were spread on a rickety shelf behind the bar. "Your usual?”

"Brandy, please." David replied. His voice sounded flat and scratchy. The scars on his back itched. They always did when he felt anxious. David rolled his shoulders, hoping the moving fabric on his shoulders would relieve the overwhelming itching.

David took a long sip of the thick, brown liquid. He listened to the blood pumping in his temples as he the drunken sense of calm washed over him.

David balanced his smoldering cigarette on the edge of a nearby ash tray and ran his hands through his hair. With a moment to let his body stop, David realized how much his muscles ached.

Around him, the dimly lit, sweaty bar gently swayed as the alcohol settled on his empty stomach. David closed his eyes, resting his forehead in his hands. His head was pounding. It was a deep, sharp, tension headache. It felt like there was a needle stabbing into his head behind his eyes.

He set the shot glass back down. Sitting up, David dug in his pockets for his crumpled carton of Lucky Strikes. He let the cigarette hang loosely from his lips as he stared down at the bar in front of him, his mind groping for a next step.

"What are you doing here, Freeman?”

David looked up. Elise Carpenter was staring him down, a playful smirk on her face. Her hands were on her hips. Seeing the exhaustion on his face, she stopped. Her face morphed into a look of concern. She moved and sat down at the barstool next to him, resting a gentle hand on the small of his back. "You look like hell, David.”

An ex Ziegfeld girl, Elsa had made herself a comfortable home in the quiet Birchwood Bar. One of thousands of chorus girls who flocked to the Great White Way a decade earlier, Elise had been forced to adapt as Vaudeville lost its power and silent films moved out to California. It was a thinly veiled secret that Elise was also a high class prostitute, entertaining a small group of clients on the side to finance a comfortable lifestyle for herself.

Elise was a petite woman, not much older than twenty-five. Her thick blonde hair was piled on top of her head into a thinly restrained up-do. Her tasteful make-up highlighted her large, blue eyes. She managed to possess an easy, homegrown look to her. She was the girl next door, all grown-up.

"I feel like hell," David said, blowing lungful of smoke into the air. It hovered around his head for a moment before it dissipated.

"Talk to me," Elise said. She looked over at David, a small smile spread across her lips as they made tentative eye contact. Her hand grazed over the top of his as she continued. "You know I'm always here for you." She spoke with a soft, almost husky voice.

"It's Jessica," David said, his voice cracking awkwardly. "She-she died, with the baby." He fumbled in his pocket, reaching for his pack of cigarettes, the muscle memory keeping his mind distracted.

Elise looked over at him with doll-like eyes. She looked remarkably fresh in the oppressive summer heat. She averted her eyes; her tone dropping self-consciously. "Now I feel like an ass. I'm sorry.”

"You didn't know," David replied, lighting another cigarette. He paused, feeling himself choking on the words coming out of his mouth. He took a long drag from the cigarette, releasing the lung full of smoke slowly. He glanced over at her out of the corner of his eye. "I just wasn't sure where else to go. I'm sure you don't want to see me…"

"David, stop it!" Her voice was sharp as she cut in, rubbing his back slowly. His breaths were slow and deliberate as he tried to collect himself. She sat forward in her seat, bracing her elbows against the bar. She angled her body into his. "You know you can always come here…"

"I wasn't sure... you know... after last time." David spoke slowly, thinking through each word before saying it as his mind replayed scenes from the past. "We didn't exactly part the best.”

Elise looked straight into his eyes, there was a no-nonsense edge to her voice as she jumped in. "And in all the time we've known each other, have I ever held a grudge for longer than a week?" She stopped and took a moment to think. She draped her hand on top of his, squeezing his fingers gently. "You're my best friend and I love you. I mean that.”

David dropped his head, "I feel so lost.”

She took the shot of whiskey in front of her as he sat up, angling her head slightly to face him. "I'm sorry, David. Do you nee-do you want to talk about-" The concern in her voice was genuine. She ran a gentle, soothing hand through his hair as she spoke.

Cutting her off, David leaned in. He slid one hand around the back of her neck and guided her in for a kiss. His head was swimming from the liquor in his system. Elise didn't seem bothered as he parted his lips, and his tongue explored her mouth with urgency.

Pulling back, Elise studied him with experienced eyes. There was desperation in the glassy and swollen eyes looking back at her. He had been crying a lot in the last couple of days. Searching for the right words, Elise gently traced her fingers down his scruffy cheek. "Are you alright? Do you need to lay down?”

"Can we go upstairs?" David asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked up at her with wide eyes. “Please?"

Elise held out her hand to David, and glanced towards the rickety stairs in the corner of the bar. She flashed him what she hoped would be a comforting smile, "Come on.”

His hands trembled as he helped her to the floor.

Turning the corner at the top of the stairs, David stepped forward, backing Elise against the wall with a soft thud. He opened his eyes, glancing at her through cloudy eyes. She met his glance with soft, unflinching eye contact.

The hallway above The Birchwood was narrow one. A shoddy wooden bannister was the only separation from the bar twenty feet below. The only light came from a few weak gas lamps hanging further down the hall. The wooden planks under their feet cracked with each shift of their weight. The wall was lined with identical closed doors spaced symmetrically along the length of the hallway.

The air around them was oppressive as he kissed her. Each breath he took filled his nose with her lilac perfume, mixing with the musky odor of humanity in the sweltering summertime heat.

Leaning against the wall, Elise sighed deeply as she let herself get lost in his arms, her instincts taking over in the darkness. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck, exhaling softly as relaxation cascaded over her muscles.