Being Henry David - By Cal Armistead Page 0,13
into the crowd.
“Wow,” I say to Jack, trying to be casual. “Did you see that? Your girlfriend just planted one on me.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” he says in a quiet voice. “She’s my sister.”
Sister. My heart stops beating, and I forget to breathe.
“Hank? You okay?”
“Yeah. Sorry.”
Sister. The word stirs something inside me. So far, it’s just a word, but I sense it’s the beginning of a solid memory, and it doesn’t have skin on yet. The beast twitches inside me, and I feel sick. Push the thought away for now.
“So Nessa and your dad…”
“Yeah, he was hurting her too.” He swallows hard and his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “This life sucks, but it’s still better than being home. With him.”
“So you’d rather get smacked around by Magpie than your own dad?” Man. I feel bad as soon as I say it.
He glares at me, his black eye gleaming like an accusation. “Shut up, Hank.”
“Jack, I’m sorry. But I don’t get why you’re going to do everything Magpie tells you. The guy is a psychopath.”
“I have no choice till this thing blows over, Hank. And neither do you. He’ll protect us. But at the same time, he’s got us by the balls.”
“Only if we let him.” I shake my head at him as betrayal and wounded righteousness wash over me. “And just because you delivered me to Magpie as some pathetic new recruit, doesn’t mean I have to cooperate.”
At least Jack has the decency to look ashamed. “You don’t know anything, Hank,” he murmurs.
We stand on a street corner and after the light changes, Jack tries to lead us to the right, but I go left, back toward Penn Station.
“Hank, it’s this way. We gotta go to Port Authority to meet up with Ginger and Watchdog.”
I keep walking, in the opposite direction of Magpie and his directives. As far away as possible. “Who are they, anyway?”
“They work with Magpie,” Jack says, trotting to keep up with me. “They’re expecting us, and believe me, the last thing you want to do is piss them off.”
I grip my copy of Walden tight in my hand and keep walking.
The cabin in my dream was just like the one that Thoreau built. I know as I stare at the cover of the book, at the trees and the pond, that’s where I want to be, that I will not spend another night in the city. I will not look at the moon through smog, will not breathe taxicab exhaust, or listen to the beeps of a hundred car horns. And in spite of my dream, if I can make it to the cabin, I believe the black bird will never find me.
I’m walking faster and faster, till I’m running down the street, dodging men and women in suits going to work, parents holding little kids’ hands on their way to school. Normal people starting a normal day. People who didn’t just get attacked in an alley and crack some guy in the head with a brick. Maybe I can outrun all of it.
“Come on, Hank,” Jack shouts after me, but I refuse to slow down. He pleads with me the whole way to Penn Station, to the entrance, down the escalator, into the terminal. Even though the cut in my side throbs with every footfall, it feels so good to run. Escaping. Like I’m running away from something horrible and running to something better. Something different anyway, and different is good.
Finally in the lobby of the train station, Jack grabs my arm and makes me look into his face. “Were you some track star in your former life? Goddamn.” He’s breathing hard and his cheeks are bright red. “Hank, listen to me. You’re in this now. If you run, they’re going to chase you, and if they find you, there’s a good chance they’ll kill you. They might hurt me too for letting you get away.”
“Then why would you stay here?” I glance up at the train schedule board over his head, suspended from the ceiling in the center of the terminal. “Get on a train and get the hell out of here.”
“I can’t, Hank. This sucks, but at least we know how to survive here. We know our way around, you know? Doesn’t sound like much, but it’s all we’ve got.”
So even if your life is crap, you’ll hold on to it just because it’s familiar? I almost say this out loud to Jack, but I stop myself. Because in truth, I