Leo Rache. Page 3

  xiiii.

  Blake moved from the kitchen, slinging his arm over Leo’s shoulder the moment he was through the door.

  -I broke into your room and am smoking your pot, so let’s be pals again, right?

  Leo took up the smoldering joint from the counter and took a drag.

  -Also, said Blake, your gal brought this and said to give it to you.

  Leo took the envelope Blake handed across, knew just from the size and weight it was his notebook.

  -She seemed rather upset, actually, leading me to think you did the right thing and put it to her straight.

  They watched a movie, Blake mentioning they needed to talk later, something important that they were in no shape to address.

  ***

  Vera had circled and underlined all manner of things in the notebook. He couldn’t tell why, assumed there wasn’t one overarching reason. The bits she’d had Blake get published were copied out on inside pages, as were several others. He couldn’t see why she’d have thought these were finished, why she spent so much time with them.

  Blake again delayed the serious conversation, having to get to class. Leo asked for the general topic, but was told they’d just talk that night. Leo mention he’d be at work until late, had every intention of returning having smoked up.

  -That’s alright. You can be high, we just shouldn’t both be.

  ***

  Leo was finalizing paperwork when Anna came off the elevator, dressed in an oversized t-shirt, thin lounging pants, feet bare. She lit up, leaned to the desk. She was glad she'd caught him, said her bill was due and could he maybe adjust the rate, again.

  -They’re actually cracking down on that, he said, asked what the situation was.

  -It's just something with my kids came up. I’m waiting on a check.

  Shrugging, she said she’d ask the manager to let it go a week, considering she'd been there so long.

  His stomach knotted.

  -I don't think he'll do that, Anna. How much are you short?

  She said she could get the bill, but wouldn’t have anything to get around, see about some jobs.

  ***

  He took four hundred out from the cash machine at the gas station, used the extra key he’d programmed to get in the hotel by the side door. Anna answered, followed his lead of speaking in a whisper, nodded that he should come in.

  He kept his voice down, counted the money, one hundred more than he'd said he'd get. She hugged his arm, stayed there, said she’d pay him back.

  -You don’t need to pay me back, just take care of whatever, alright?

  He walked for a few hours, several times stopping to smoke down cigarettes and a joint. He was jittery, felt Anna at his arm. Anyone, he knew, would call him an idiot.

  xv.

  Leo took the announcement that Blake was moving out well. Really, he didn't know why Blake thought he would've had issue. They mathed out what was left of the lease, Blake insisting on taking care of a larger amount, as the change in plans was his.

  -Where are you going to be living?

  -I'm staying with my brother a bit, then probably I'm gonna live at home.

  There seemed more to it than that, something to do with taking courses at a different school, but Leo sensed a discomfort, didn't feel like plumbing.

  He bought a newspaper, sat in a restaurant looking at Room-to-Let listings. The idea excited him, had a banal romance he liked. He’d circled twenty options in an hour.

  ***

  He called his supervisor about setting his schedule to accommodate his seeing rooms. It was worthless, in the end, as some places preferred to show during the day, others during the evening.

  He went out, noticed that his stroll was going to take him right past the cafe. He made it a point to not look in the window.

  Three blocks later, Vera called him. She said she was at home, so Leo said maybe he could meet her at the café.

  -Is that where you are? I haven't seen you there in weeks.

  -I'm out on a walk, going there later.

  She said she’d meet him. He didn’t bother doubling back to catch her out in her little game.

  ***

  He was smoking a joint on his bed, undressed from his shower, working out a poem when Vera called, again.

  -Are you at the café, now? he asked, could tell she was.

  -I broke up with Vince, she said without prompt.

  Leo didn’t quite know how he wanted to respond. He kept a soothing, agreeable tone because Vera was clearly upset, but he felt put upon. Vince had been unfaithful with a number of girls, according to Vera.

  Leo advised her to go out and get laid, as soon as possible.

  -I probably should’ve cheated on him with you when I had the chance, right?

  He sighed, agreed to meet her for drinks, but had no intention of showing up.

  ***

  Leo watched some lousy movie Blake had recommended, notebook on the sofa arm, idly jotting

  down curious lines that occurred to him brought on by the wine he'd started into.

  Vera hadn't called by two in the morning. He became preoccupied with this, walked around the apartment, finished the wine, started a joint.

  Blake showed up, told a very long story about finding fifty dollars on the ground.

  He woke late in the afternoon, forced himself to shower and dress. Vera had left a message explaining she knew she shouldn't have called the previous night, knew he didn't care so she'd stop bothering him.

  He ate lunch at his desk, fiddling with the things he’d written during the night.

  xvi.

  With the noise of the train, he hadn't heard his phone.

  He didn't recognize the number, imagined it was one of the rooms he'd looked at, didn’t bother with the message.

  The dayshift workers told him how they'd needed to call the police to kick some heroin addicts out of a room.

  -Did that guy ever come down when you were here? Oozing track marks and everything?

  Leo shook his head, asked if things had gotten rough.

  -I hear guns were drawn, but I was down here.

  On his second cigarette break, he remembered the message. It was from Lea, very brief, apologetic for not having time to write him.

  He wondered if he should call back, but it didn't seem like it.

  ***

  His next day off he woke early, was agitated with coffee inside of an hour. He looked through the poems he'd worked on since the last notebook he'd sent Lea, piled the ones he liked. He gave another look to what he'd written high and drunk, couldn't make it mean anything to him, nothing to do with sending to Lea.

  By one in the afternoon, he’d stolen a notebook. At two, he was caught stealing a pen from a boutique.

  The people where he'd stolen the notebook had suspected him, called around to put the warning out.

  Police were called, the boutique owner not interested in his money. Someone from the other shop came over, identified the notebook. The police secured Leo in handcuffs.

  ***

  He went to work fresh from being let out of jail, the next morning. In his opinion, the matter was

  ridiculous, but the boutique owner had continued her vendetta and other shops he'd stolen from had confirmed him as a habitual thief, so the charges against him mounted.

  The shift went by without incident.

  He waited until he was home to smoke. Blake got the story out of him, recommending highly he do nothing to fight the charges. Still hoping the matter would be forgotten by all involved, Leo promised he had no fight in him. Blake helped him decipher the papers outlining the charges, possible consequences, and procedures for what would happen next.

  He'd left his poetry at work, took a late train back.

  ***

  Sheepishly, knowing nothing could happen, he went on a little tour of shops he'd robbed of notebooks and pens, standing outside their windows, looking at the interiors silent and dark. He wondered if, of his own volition, he should
apologize to the owners, or at least write letters of apology.

  He bought an ordinary school notebook and a ball point pen from a convenience store, a small bottle of wine on impulse when he happened by an all night shop, sat by the canal. He drafted a sarcastic, bitter apology to the boutique woman, scribbled on it, threw the notebook into the water.

  Defeated, he drank the wine, thought of some line or two, wrote them on his forearm.

  xvii.

  He vaguely hoped either the landlord or another tenant in any of the houses he looked at would be attractive, meet his eyes, some spark even if it was never acted on.

  The first three places he visited that morning were the same. Small houses. Shared bathrooms. Designated fridge space.

  -The living room can be used by anyone, the landlords all said without fail, but the living rooms always looked unlived in for years.

  It threw him for a loop that one of the requirements always seemed to be doing various cleaning beyond whatever incidental mess he might make.

  He skipped two appointments, watched a movie instead.

  The place he saw that evening was promising, but six stations further away by train than he'd thought.

  ***

  He'd sat in a random coffee shop, was contemplating having a cigarette. As he looked up, a man stopped outside the window, eyed him a moment, smiled suddenly and waved. The man was already sitting down before it dawned on him it was Vince.

  -How are you, fella?

  The greeting was enthusiastic, peculiar. Leo shook hands, made an Eh sound.

  -I haven't seen you since the reading, right? Or were you at Devon's thing?

  He said he'd been at Devon's thing for a little while, Vince nodding he remembered they'd talked for a minute.

  He was cornered into smoking cigarettes and chatting. Vince gave him a card when he left that read Vince Grange. Poet. Bernard Maw University. Winner of the Rilke Prize.

  ***

  Blake was dressing in his good suit one morning, Leo groggily pouring cold coffee and using the stove coils to get a cigarette going.

  -Aren't you in prison, yet? Blake asked, unknotting his tie for another attempt.

  -You eager for that conjugal?

  He was amused by the quickness of his wit, but Blake didn't remark, just asked if he was any good with ties.

  -No. Why are you so done up?

  -Many reasons, many reasons.

  Leo stayed in until it was time for work, then at the last minute called out. There was no trouble, the day shift worker said she could use the hours and to call her first if he still wasn't feeling well the next day.

  ***

  Tipsy, he called about the room that was further away than the others, apologizing for the late hour. There were two other interested parties and an application was mentioned. He said his heart was set on it, couldn't they make an arrangement? It was agreed he'd pay the first month in advance, moving in immediately, even if he didn't occupy. He brought payment the next day before work, was given a key to the room’s separate entrance.

  -I don't give tenants the front door key, you go through your room to the rest of the house.

  He slept on the floor that night, could hear the tenant down the hall having sex. He wondered if the boy or the girl was the one renting.

  xviii.

  He dreamt about finding a third arm, affixing it to himself. Waking, it took hours to shake the feeling of disfigurement.

  Blake asked how his apartment hunt was going, but Leo didn’t say. He honestly wasn’t sure about things, might not move in, let the landlord just keep the money.

  He bought more marijuana from the gas station workers, downed a large coffee and began his shift.

  Anna called down, asking in a casual way was he busy.

  -Not so much.

  -Doing anything for lunch? I'm going to the store.

  He said she didn’t need to cook for him, but was glad when she said he could keep her company, then.

  ***

  Door ajar, she said she knew no one should see him coming in. She pointed to some groceries, said she hadn't made anything yet, then said she’d gotten a place and a job.

  -That's fantastic.

  She brushed against him, kissed his mouth, then leaned on the counter.

  -What's the matter?

  -He stammered, blushing. I thought I wasn't supposed to kiss you.

  -What do you mean? Why wouldn't I be allowed to kiss you?

  She kissed him, again, pulling back while he was still kissing her, sat on the bed, posture not especially provocative.

  -Aren't I allowed to kiss people?

  -He shrugged. You don’t have to do this, Anna he said shyly.

  She kissed his pant front, looked up at him, sideways.

  ***

  He said he wanted to memorize her, shoulders, hands on her breasts, neck, went on and on.

  -I'm going to tell your girlfriend, she laughed. You can’t say nice things to other women.

  She pulled her panties on, went to the sink, drank water from cupped hands.

  -I don't have a girlfriend.

  She didn’t respond, just said now that she had someplace she wanted to get rabbits.

  -We should pick out rabbits, then. You look lovely.

  -I look tired.

  -Then I like you tired.

  -I'll bet you do.

  He wondered should he go up after his shift, but an hour before that she got off the elevator, gave him a smile, biting her lower lip, left, ten minutes later coming back with her kids.

  ***

  He changed details when he told Blake, after a joint unable to keep it back. He described Anna as a girl, younger than him. Blake gave mild congratulations, adrift in his own thoughts. Leo was glad about that, actually, felt lousy for the way he'd altered things. They talked about Science Fiction movies the rest of the night.

  Leo fell asleep on the sofa, woke on the floor. He had a long scratch down his forehead he couldn’t account for. Blake said he'd done it to himself with the tab of a soda can.

  -I think it was an accident though, Blake added, then said he was going to dye his hair later if Leo wouldn’t mind helping.

  xviiii.

  His finances were in bad shape, he definitely couldn’t afford the coat he'd seen in the thrift shop window.

  He did look at the coat, again, making excuses about why it wasn’t worth troubling with.

  He worked out a timetable for getting to and from work, considering the distance he'd have to cover if he moved into the room he was renting.

  His mind wandered, leaned over scrap paper on the desk. He verified Anna was still a guest, hadn’t yet settled on a check-out date.

  No poems were really catching, he just thought about Lea, a lot. He'd jotted her number on a receipt he kept in his wallet. He tried it from a payphone, hung up right away.

  ***

  The proceedings concerning his arrest were less intense than he'd been fearing. An informal meeting with the person who'd been assigned his file, no judge, no witnesses, he just listened to formal statements, verified them, wrote out statements of guilt to each. He was fined four thousand dollars, went to another area of the courthouse to arrange a payment schedule. It was

  tempting to ask could he just serve a week in jail, but at the same time wasn't.

  At work, he wrote out budgets, would feel satisfied about one, then realize a mistake in it or get convinced he could work it out better, start again.

  He smoked up before his shift was over, wished he still had a job he could grift from.

  ***

  While he was dressing, there was a knock at the door he ignored. Twenty minutes later, swallowing headache tablets with lukewarm coffee, there was another knock.

  Vera stood a few steps from the door when he opened it, little girl posture, like she'd actually been holding her breath.

  -Hi.

  -Hi, he said, leaving the door only partway open.

  She let out a huff thro
ugh her nose and without looking up said Could I have that notebook back?

  It was almost a full minute before it dawned on him what she meant.

  -No.

  -She winced. I won't bother you anymore. Could I please just have that?

  -No, Vera. I'm closing the door.

  She said something else he ignored.

  ***

  He took some things to the pawn shop. The typewriter Vera had brought him fetched twenty dollars on its own, as much as everything else combined. He considered using the money to buy a carton of cigarettes, but not only wasn't it enough, he couldn't bring himself to be one of those people.

  He daydreamed during work about Anna's back, about visiting Lea, about how her back might look. In his daydreams about Lea, he wrote poetry on her back, imagined being nervous about asking her to turn over.

  He checked train schedules, bus schedules, put the money from the pawn shop in his desk drawer in a box of extra checks.

  xx.

  Blake helped him move the things he'd decided not to get rid of.

  -I can’t get over that you just live in a room, Blake laughed, getting the box spring onto the frame.

  -It's no different than an apartment.

  -You share a toilet.

  -I shared a toilet with you.

  Blake admitted it might be alright, provided Leo promise not to start serial killing people.

  After exploring the house, Blake reported it gave him the creeps that there was an exercise room.

  Leo stayed awake most of the night, smoking on the outside steps up to his door. The view of the house next door was such that he could see the top of someone’s head while they used their bathroom sink.

  ***

  The metro was crowded the times he needed to use it, the fare also a dollar twenty more. He could combat both things by leaving his room early, finding things to do in the city when working evenings, but this defeated having someplace to live.

  He started getting wary that Anna might put him in a position where he'd need to use money, again. He knocked on her door, almost used the master key when she didn’t answer.