Billie Joe had cashed his check, met
his dealer and walked the whole way home to the Lower East side
feeling no pain. Fuck that job. He'd go back later maybe. Maybe not.
He had a pile of money in his pocket, along with a bag of his shit
and could do whatever in the fuck he wanted. He had a big big smile.
What was next- getting laid? Hm might not be the best time for that.
Getting drunk, now that was a given. He noticed he was still carrying
his hard hat. Now why would he still have this thing? He handed it to
the next person he made eye contact with, an elderly gentleman who
did not care for the cut of Billie Joe's jib, not one bit. The old
man took the hard hat and shaking his head, watched Billie Joe walk
down the sidewalk.
It wasn't until he got to his
girlfriend's building that he noticed he'd lost his keys. The
good-time buzz had worn off slightly. He rang the bell. Her voice
came on immediately, “Hello”
“Hey baby, I left my keys at work I
think” he said, leaning his head against the call box “can you
buzz me in?” There was no response. He waited a minute, looked
around at the people walking past and buzzed again. Then his stuff
started landing on the sidewalk all around him.
“Whoa whoa whoa!!” he yelled and
backed out onto the curb, looking up to her window. The mistake in
this was that he gave her a clear target. One of his boots nearly
connected with his face. She shrieked , long hair waving widly in the
wind all around her face. He was high enough to think she looked even
more beautiful than ever.
“Selene, baby come on!” he shouted
up to her
“Why don't you take your shit and go
stay with your little Peurto Rican friend in Queens, you stupid
wacked out fuck?”
“Man, all me and Sofia did was make
out that one time.” he shouted
“Sofia?” the woman responded,
incredulous “Who said anything about Sofia? I was talking...about
Marta...you motherfucker!” She took breaks in screaming at him to
throw more of his clothes at him.
“Ah God.” he said and held his
head, pacing. Man he had fucked up now.
Foot traffic had halted on both sides
of the block to watch the scene. Billie Joe looked around at the
little old Polish ladies in their head scarves who looked at him
scornfully. He smiled and waved to them, chuckling slightly. They
weren't buying it in the least.
“Baby, just let me in so we can talk
this thing out.” he pleaded as more of his possesions rained down
from her window.
“What is there to talk about that we
haven't talked about a hundred times before?” she said, “Where
you been all afternoon? You got off at three.” It was at least six
o'clock, and he realized he didn't have an answer in the world for
this one. He shrugged and decided to raise both his hands in an
attempt to beg mercy.
“Marty called looking for you,” she
said. Marty was his best jobsite buddy, an electrician. “He was
worried on account of you getting fired today. He was afraid you
might get into something stupid.”
“Man, fuck Marty!” Billie Joe
called, “It's no big deal, honey, I can make some calls, I'll get
right back to work come Monday.”
“Billie Joe that's what you always
say.” she said, almost mournfully. Her face softened and she looked
as though she were about to cry. Mostly she just looked tired and
beautiful. Her white shirt was unbuttoned midway down and hung open
so that he could see her small white breasts. As he held his hands up
to her, he realized he would never touch those breasts again.
“Selene, you gotta realize this is
such a cliche'd breakup technique.” he said. Laughter might not be
the best option, but he tried a chuckle. She ignored it.
“How many jobs has it been now?”
she asked “How many even this year, Billie Joe?”
He puzzled about this for a minute.
Looking up at the sky past the building and doing the math, he
realized he didn't know the answer.
The girl in the high window shook her
head mournfully and finally tossed down a battered leather jacket.
“Good-bye, Billy Joe.” she said,
and closed the window.
Stunned, he looked around at his
belongings strewn all over the sidewalk. Foot traffic had
re-commenced, with a collective sighing and shaking of heads. Woeful
comments were muttered just under breath but loud enough to hear
about the sad state of the neighborhood as Billie Joe Maynard tried
to prioritize which parts of his life should be slavaged from the
sidewalk.
