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It's not the place, I think. It's the people.
We'd have all been the same anywhere else.
I speak again. One last question.
"Did Dad know?"
Long pause.
A pause that murders, until my mother turns away and cries, and the night is so deep and dark that I wonder if the sun will ever come up.
"Ma?"
"Yeah?"
I look down at the Doorman, who's eating his lasagna with what can only be described as the ultimate ecstasy. It's 2:03 a.m., and I hold the phone receiver against my ear.
"You okay, Ma?"
The voice shivers back but answers the way I expected.
"Yeah, I'm okay."
"That's good."
"Except you woke me, you useless--"
I hang up but smile.
I'd wanted to tell her I still love her, but maybe it's better this way.
I can't help thinking about all the things Ma said last night.
It's Sunday morning, and I've hardly slept. The Doorman and I each have a few coffees, but it doesn't wake me up much. I wonder if I'm done with Clown Street and my mother, but my feeling tells me I am. She needed to tell me those things.
Of course, the fact that my mother thinks I'm a complete loser is not pleasant.
The fact that she
also considers herself one isn't much comfort, either, even if it should be. In a way, it has woken me a little. I realize I can't be a cabdriver all my life. It'll drive me crazy.
For the first time, a message has touched part of my own life in some way.
Who was it for?
For Ma or me?
Then I hear her words again. It takes a lot of love to hate you like this.
I think I saw some relief cross her face when she told me that.
The message was hers.
The Doorman and I go to the church to see Father O'Reilly, and he still has a fairly generous congregation.
"Ed!" he says excitedly afterward. "I was worried you weren't coming back. I've missed you the last few weeks." He pats the Doorman.
"I guess we've been busy," I say.
