"If you give me your coat, I will fulfill your wish", mumbled the man in the Sub-Zero wooden box. Upscale, a Sub-Zero box is upscale under the Mathison bridge complex for the displaced. Most of the "houses" are cardboard. Popper Perkins found herself in the 60's era bridge encampment for reasons even she couldn't articulate. The formerly comely brunette was about to call it quits and she needed 40 Ativan. Some guy named Butch at Flannery's Bar, a dive on Fleshkung near Shunk, told her to go there. And that was after she mouthed him for a shot of Evan Williams whiskey and a Pabst Blue Ribbon. Men named Butch talk more after they have been mouthed.
Addison "Popper" Perkins is a tall woman. At least 76 inches without heels and about 120 pounds, she most certainly is ectomorphically imposing. So, when Hector "Doc" Rodriguez saw her cruising through the "streets" of Mathisontown, he knew that her dark gray woolen overcoat would be big enough to keep him warm. And so he made his pitch.
As she looked down on the semi-recumbent moon faced man in his crib, she stated in a cool, but slightly affected manner, "I need 40 Ativans."
"40?, not 30, not 50?" he laughed.
"40!"
Popper had figured out 40 milligrams of Ativan coupled with a fifth of whiskey would be the right amount to ease her out of this world. Sweet sleep and then, then nothing. It would turn to black. She believed it would be like it was, before she was. Phooey with all of that religious mumbo-jumbo and the after life and God or god or whatever. No way any of that ever made sense to her.
Some guy 2 boxes, er "houses" down on on the right, facing the river, was playing Travie McCoy, "
We'll Be Alright".
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=04zaL7wIbmc Popper knew the tune, but for her, life was anything but alright. For a split second she wished she could be singing with Travie, "oo-ooo-oooh". Just a split second... She knew she was too old at 41 to be with Travie McCoy. She didn't know his age, but he was born in 1981.
Steve Perkins went away about a year ago. Kiting checks, petty thievery and then, finally, an accidental murder were his sequence to enter the state penitentiary at Rahway. How was he to know the old guy would have a heart attack? Steve was in Larry Kinder's bedroom on a dark and dreary October night when the two men scared the shiuta out of each other. Steve had no idea Larry was home. Carlson Carruthers, Perkin's tout, told him that the rich old geezer was going on a bus trip to Florida for a week. How was he to know Larry had come down with prostatism and his trip to Lake Glades had to be cancelled.
Kinder was pissing every 15 minutes and he was not travel-worthy. When Larry came out of the master bath shaking his skin flap to and fro, he nearly bumped into Steve, who was rifling through the dresser's drawers. "Yikes!" yelled Steve. "Yikes!" went Larry. One ran and one died. One went to the big house and one went to the celestial house.
Popper tried to hold it together, but she was never a saver nor was she a planner. Steve, a fun bad boy, was not a good provider. They lived heist to heist. Without Steve, the heists ended. She smoked and she drank and she soon ran out of money. Her world caved in around her as she failed to pay the bills and the mortgage. As far as help, there was none. Addison had no family, having been adopted by two people with short life-spanned genetic make-ups. And Steve's family, well, sociopaths are ego needy and best avoided.
Pelvic inflammatory disease had rendered AddiePop infertile. At one point or another through the years, she yearned to be a mom, but... Too bad she began to "relate" when she was fourteen, but back then everybody did it. Unprotected. She picked up Chlamydia trachomatis, which scarred her tubes to oblivion. Too bad AIDS hadn't been discovered sooner, inasmuch as that disease promoted using condoms for protection. Maybe Popper's tubes would have been spared if Nicky Malatesta wore galoshes.
Steve never minded Addison's inability to bear; he was a guy and he could take or leave kids. When Popper thought about it, she thinks that Steve would have been a good parent. At the least, their kid would have been able to pick a lock by the time he would have been three. Too bad they didn't have one or two kids. Children tend to ground a person. Who knows, those kids could have changed the course for both Steve and Addison.
The foreclosure proceeding was two days ago. Addison "Popper" Perkins is homeless, just like all of the the blokes and blokettes around her in Mathisontown. She has run out of poker chips and she has concluded it's time to fold 'em, get up from the table and jump out the window. Too bad, the card game is on the second floor.
She queried, "So, can you get me 40, 40 Ativans?"
"Sure, sure, give me your coat.", Hector said between tightened lips, anxious to get that coat.
"Show me the pills.", she pushed.
Both Hector and Popper were wary and cautious, like two alley cats. Things are like that under bridges, by rivers, in "towns" where people have only first names and weaknesses they wear on their sleeves.
Hector Rodriguez had once been a licensed medical doctor. He found it was easier to pump out prescriptions for narcotics than listen to the drivel of the sick and the pseudo sick. After ten years and 4 medical licenses later, the authorities caught up with him. Sadly, Hector had his own demons. He became addicted to OxyContin, leading to his loss of everything he ever had. But living in a Sub-Zero refrigerator wooden packing box had a certain insouciance.
Rummaging around his "house", he pulled out a bottle of these. Popper was surprised. The "Doc" still had supply connections.
With the aplomb of a huckster Hector bloviated, "OK, OK, I'll give you twenty of these for your coat. Mine are 2 mg."
Popper, who was a math cripple, looked confused. She screwed up her face so that her lips seemed to wrap around her nose. The fact that she was edentulous made her face more rubbery. After a few minutes she figured out 40 milligrams was 40 milligrams, no matter forty 1 mg or twenty 2 mg pills. As she unbuttoned her sturdy, gray Merino, Hector was taken aback to see she had the full pokey breasts of a younger, more healthy woman.
It wasn't so much that
she was so young or so healthy, but Addie's breasts were unused and remarkably perfect. Oddly, he was moved by her.
Il medico hadn't known a woman in a long time, years. An OxyContin fog numbs the senses. Consequently, he never much cared one way or the other, until now.
"Hey, you thinking of offing yourself?" Rodriguez seemed concerned.
"Yeah, ran out of reasons not to, ran out, just ran out."
They did a simultaneous exchange. Twenty yellow pills for a gray, woolen overcoat was big business in Mathisontown. Popper and Hector held on to their stuff carefully. Their releases were simultaneous.
"You know, you could hang with me, it's cozy in here." The ex doc was half in his "house" and he did indeed look comfy. As he pulled the coat into his lair, she said almost apologetically, "What about my wish?....er, for my coat?"
"Wish...?, I gave you the Ativan." The defrocked medico seemed a bit defensive.
"Oh, yeah..."Addie said that in a trailing voice, almost as if she had forgotten about the pills. She looked hurt.
Maybe it was her breasts awakening something inside of him or maybe Hector felt empathy, but in any event he reached out to her. "OK, OK what's your wish?" He continued the conversation.
Addie's eyes brightened for a second. "I wish, er, I wish..." She couldn't finish. Hector, the former diagnostician, could see those eye go from bright to sad. Tears welled.
Hector, who is currently drug-free, went on. "Lady, I don't know you and you don't know me. We are two lost souls. It's late and it's cold and you don't have a coat. Why don't you wish you were in a warm house?"
Popper smiled, the kind of smile that could be described as sad. Maybe she didn't want to slug down a fifth of whiskey and swallow twenty yellow pills. Maybe she was thinking she didn't have a warm house? Maybe she was cold or maybe she wanted to live. No matter...
She whispered, almost swallowing her words, "OK, that's my wish, then that's my wish."
Hector moved down into the Sub-Zero a little more. His head retracted like a turtle might pull his head into his shell. It was surprising how easily Popper fit into the "house" with him. But then again, Hector was a smallish, roundish man, Addie was a long, tall woman and the Sub-Zero box was big. Both of them smelled human in a three day unwashed pheromonic way. Neither noticed. In fact, it was as if they were awash in a fog of aphrodisiacs. He felt her and she felt him.
As they adjusted their bodies, unconsciously sniffing and facing each other, the radio guy down the way on the right facing the river was now playing an oldie by the Carnations titled, "
A Long Tall Girl". Listen to it, they did.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n_XRXAe_zhs
"A long tall girl and a little ol' meatball..."
E cosi va.
