first aid, so I didn’t feel panicky about what to do next. It would be impossible for me to get him into a standing position to administer the Heimlich maneuver. I needed to employ a different approach.
Still wearing my ski mask and green army jacket, I straddled Giovanni’s thighs. I placed the heels of my hands, one on top of the other, against the middle of his fleshy abdomen and administered two thrusts, pressing inward and upward to help dislodge the object.
Before I could administer the third thrust of five, I felt a heavy thud against my head. I winced, but the blow was more startling than painful. I looked to see what struck me and saw the old woman, purse in hand, hoisting the makeshift weapon above her head, ready to make another strike.
“You get off him!” she yelled, though the force of her voice had clearly diminished with age. “You stop hurting him right now.”
I felt like John trying to save a life, but the woman’s petrified expression reminded me that I still had my frightening black ski mask on.
“Ma’am,” I said. “This man is choking to death. I’m trying to help him.”
At least I had the wherewithal to address her as “Ma’am.” Meanwhile, she had the wherewithal to strike me again with her purse, repeatedly. Ignoring the blows, I administered three more thrusts. Whirling around, I straddled Giovanni again, this time facing his head. He bucked beneath me like a wild stallion, but my thighs dug into his side hard enough to hold me fast. I pulled apart Giovanni’s jaw and reached my hand into his mouth, grasping hold of his thick, slimy-to-the-touch tongue, and pulled it away from the back of his throat. The blows from the old lady’s purse struck my shoulder again.
“Please, ma’am!” I shouted. “Let me save his life!”
“You should be ashamed,” she said, delivering three quick, successive blows with her purse.
Whap. Whap. Whap.
I managed to work my finger deep inside Giovanni’s cheek and, using a sweeping, hooking motion, slid it across the interior of his mouth to the other cheek. The tip of my finger sunk into a pliable substance blocking his windpipe. Caution here was critical, else I risked pushing the tobacco wad deeper down his throat. Feeling like I had a good hold, I removed my finger from Giovanni’s mouth, carrying with it a saliva-soaked blob of tobacco leaf and gum.
Giovanni inhaled a breath that was loud with relief. He lay on the floor, panting, the proper color already returning to his skin and nails.
I climbed off Giovanni, and the old lady backed away several paces, positioning herself between the front door and me.
“Please give me a chance to get away,” I said to her. “I’m doing this to save a woman’s life. I’m not a bad person. Please.”
I tried to imagine that my ski mask made me look like some sort of superhero, but suspected that I looked more like the devil.
“Turn your life around, young man,” the old lady said.
I thought I knew what she meant by that, but I wasn’t sure. I said a prayer, my second in a night, that I was right. The old lady vanished out the door as I made a dash for the cash register. I fumbled about with the buttons until I found the one that opened the drawer. I took a hundred fifty dollars—five twenties, five tens.
Giovanni worked himself from his back onto his stomach, where he lay heaving in a puddle of wine. The red liquid pooled around his body like blood spilled from a grave wound.
I went to him and knelt close to his face.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise. Are you okay?”
Giovanni muttered something in Italian.
I don’t speak Italian, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t say, “Thank you.”
I retrieved the gun, which wasn’t too far away, and raced to the front door, half expecting to see the old lady standing in the middle of the street, screaming for help. I looked both ways, but the street was deserted. No cars. No pedestrians. Nobody. The old lady was gone.
Turn your life around, she had said. I wondered if that meant she’d give me a chance to get away. I guess saving Giovanni’s life inspired her to believe that I could be redeemed.
I listened for the sirens but didn’t hear any. I pulled off my ski mask, used it to wipe down the front door handle, and took off running. I got