My Friend Leonard by James Frey

  I step forward, once twice, heart pounding. I step forward I am next to the table. I stand and I stare at the sheet she is beneath it. I place the palm of my hand in the center of the sheet. My heart is fucking pounding. I softly press so that I can feel beneath the sheet, my hand is somewhere on her stomach. I start moving it along the top of the sheet, along the contour of her body. She’s beneath the sheet and I can feel her body. The body I once held, the body I loved, the body that loved me. I run my hand up the curve of her neck, over her chin. I move it to the edge of the sheet, I put my other hand with my first. My heart is fucking pounding. My hands are shaking.

  I start to slowly pull the sheet. I see her hair jet black so black it is almost blue. I slowly pull I see her skin, it was pale like porcelain in life, it is pale gray now. I slowly pull. I see her eyebrows black I see her lashes black. I see her eyes closed they were blue in life, beautiful clear deep-water blue in life, they are closed and I will leave them closed. I pull the sheet slowly her cheekbones strong and defined I pull past her nose I pull down and across her lips. Full and red they are still full. They are also quiet, calm, still, at rest. I pull the sheet down across her chin and off her face. I pull the sheet from her neck. She has a deep blue bruise around her throat. Whatever she used was thick, maybe a towel, I don’t know, I don’t want to think about it. I pull the sheet to her shoulders she is not wearing a shirt. I will not expose her naked flesh I will respect her in death as I respected her in life. I let go of the sheet and I set it just below her shoulders. I stare at her. She is quiet, calm, still, at rest. I love her now as I did before I love her now. In death and in life. My heart is pounding and my hand is shaking. I love her.

  I stare.

  I run my hands along the top of her head and through her hair.

  I cry.

  I feel the contours of her face.

  I kiss my fingers and I press them to her lips.

  I cry.

  She is quiet.

  Calm.

  Still.

  At rest.

  I take her hand beneath the sheet. It is stiff and cold. I take her hand.

  I am with her.

  I hold her.

  I love her.

  She’s at rest.

  Cry.

  They sleep in peace.

  They sleep in peace.

  Grieve.

  I grieve alone.

  Grieve.

  I call my friend Kevin. Kevin is an old close friend, one of the closest friends that I have had in my life. We met at school and we lived together while we were there and he watched me as I fell apart and helped me as I started to pick up the pieces of my shattered life. He knew I was coming here, though he did not know exactly when I would arrive. He says welcome to Chicago and I say thanks and he asks me how I’m doing and I say fine and he asks me how it was he is aware of what I was doing in Ohio and I tell him it was fine. He knows about Lilly and he asks me how it’s going with her and I tell him bad and he asks me what happened and I tell him I don’t want to talk about it. He asks if I’m okay. I tell him I don’t want to talk about it. I ask him when he’ll be off work and he tells me seven and we agree to meet at his apartment.

  Kevin lives on the north side of the city. His apartment is on the first floor of a four-story brownstone on a street lined with four-story brownstones. The neighborhood is full of people in their twenties working their first or second professional jobs, the streets are lined with suits and skirts and loafers. I find the building easily, park in front of it. I can see through the windows, I see a group of people smoking cigarettes and drinking. I get out of my car and I take a deep breath. I don’t want to do this to see a group of people I’m nervous and scared I am used to being alone. I know I need to break the solitude to spend time among the living. I push the buzzer walk through the door into the hall he is waiting for me. He is smiling. He steps forward and he gives me a hug and he speaks.

  It’s good to see you, Buddy.

  You too.

  We separate.

  Who’s inside?

  Some people who wanted to see you.

  Who?

  Come in and see.

  You won’t tell me?

  Just come in.

  I take a deep breath. I know I need to try and move forward with my life.

  I step inside.

  I see people I know, people I am friends with, people I am surprised to see. Adrienne and Ali. Two friends great friends, for several years we drank together and smoked together and laughed together and sometimes cried together. Erin and Courtney they were her friends, someone I was with in a different life. They were her friends and they became my friends. I don’t know if they see her or speak to her and I don’t care, it was a different life. David and Scott, older than me I used to drink and smoke and snort with them they are bankers now buttoned up and prim. Callie and Kim, they live with Kevin I used to sell them drugs, occasionally I used drugs with them. All of them know that I recently came out of a drug and alcohol treatment center, only Kevin knows about jail. They all seem happy to see me, they also seem scared to drink around me and smoke around me and be themselves around me. They ask me tentative questions. How are you is everything okay is it all right if I have this drink around you are you comfortable like this. I tell them I am fine. That the alcohol does not bother me, that they should be at ease. I keep a calm face and a relaxed demeanor. Inside I am not calm, this is all overwhelming. All the noise all the faces all the words. I have been alone for a long time. Alone and unsocial. This room is full of people I know and I like and who have come here to see me and it is overwhelming.

  We go to a bar. All of us together we go to a bar. I shoot pool and smoke cigarettes and drink soda water. My friends shoot pool and smoke cigarettes and get drunk. As the night moves deeper I speak less and less. As the night moves deeper my friends lose the ability to speak. I do not judge them. I did what they are doing now every night for years. Got drunk and stumbled and slurred my words. I do not judge them, I am happy to see them.

  We stay at the bar until it closes. We leave I say goodbye to everyone thank them for coming to see me walk back to the apartment with Kevin and Callie and Kim. They go to their rooms and they go to bed. I find some blankets in a closet and I go to the living room and I clear a space on the couch and I lie down.

  I stare at the ceiling.

  I start looking for an apartment. I look through the classified sections of the paper, I walk the streets and I look for rental signs, I go to local real estate offices and I look through the listings. I don’t want much and I don’t need much. Almost all of the money is gone. I want something simple and small and clean. Somewhere for me to sit and sleep and read. Somewhere for me to be alone. Simple and small and clean.

  I find a place on my second day. It’s on a small street only one block long. At one end of the street there are two giant steel giraffes on opposite corners, they’re ridiculous and they make me laugh. At the other end there is a delicate little restaurant, its menu is written in Italian. Trees line both sides of the street, and though I know nothing about the neighborhood, it feels like somewhere that I could live for a while.

  The apartment itself is in a large five-story building shaped like a U. It is a one-room apartment on the first floor. It has one brick wall, plain wood floors, an oven and refrigerator. There are three windows, all of them are barred, there are two doors, the doors are in opposite corners. One of them leads into a hall and the other to an alley where there are several large dumpsters.

  I meet the building superintendent. His name is Mickey and he is about thirty. He is thin and effeminate and he has blond hair and blue eyes and he wears pajamas. He says he is a painter who is working as a super because he gets free rent, money and lots of time to paint. As he reads my application, I see him occasionally glancing up at me. He finishes and he tells me that he isn’t usually allowed to rent apartments to people without jobs. I tell him that I intend to find one. He asks if I have any referenc
es and I say no. He says he’ll need to check with his boss and I take all of the remaining cash that I have and I place it in front of him.

  That’s a deposit and two months’ rent and a bit extra for you.

  He looks down at the money, back at me.

  How much extra?

  Another month.

  He looks me up and down.

  You seem nice.

  I chuckle.

  And you seem like you won’t be much trouble.

  I laugh again.

  He reaches out his hand.

  Welcome to the building.

  I shake his hand, smile.

  Thank you.

  We let go of each other’s hands.

  When do you want to move in?

  Right now.

  You’re in a hurry?

  I need somewhere to live.

  He reaches into a file and takes out a lease. He asks me some questions, fills in the answers, I sign the lease. He hands me the keys.

  Thank you.

  You’re welcome.

  I stand.

  I’ll see you around.

  He nods.

  You certainly will.

  I turn and I leave. I walk to my truck, which is parked on the curb outside the building. I get my clothes and my bottle and I walk back to the apartment. I open the door and I step inside. I set my clothes in a pile on the floor. I hold the bottle in my hand. I have taken it with me almost everywhere that I have gone in the last few days. I keep it with me as a test of my strength. I keep it with me in case I change my mind.

  I feel like I want it now the rose. I feel like I want it all the time but more now more. I set it on the floor in the middle of the apartment. I open the door I am going to walk, walking calms me.

  It is cold outside. The wind screams through the streets like a whip. It lashes at my face, penetrates my clothes, stings me shakes me hurts me. I start to walk. No agenda nowhere to go no idea how to get there. I just walk.

  I pass the giraffes I say goodbye friends. I walk down a street called Broadway lined with pawnshops, no dreams coming true here. I walk past Wrigley Field it’s a baseball stadium dead in winter, old and silent and noble and dark. I walk under the elevated train tracks the ground shakes beneath them every five minutes the ground is shaking. I walk past people some I can’t see they are hiding from the winter. I walk past store after store after store selling things I don’t need. I walk past apartment buildings light and warm and offices light and warm and schools light and warm. I walk past a hospital. A police station. A firehouse. I just walk. For whatever the reason, it helps me forget. For whatever the reason, it brings me calm.

  As the day fades the temperature drops, the light disappears. I have been walking for hours, I make my way back to Kevin’s apartment. I see him through the window drinking wine his roommates are smoking. I hit the buzzer go inside sit with them as they drink and smoke. I tell them about my apartment they want to celebrate.

  We go back to the same bar we were in last night. We meet most of the same people. I sit with them as they drink and smoke. I have a glass of water. I want to drink, part of me wants to drink, one drink two drinks five drinks twenty. I want to drink because I know drinking will make it all go away. The pain I feel the sadness and sorrow and grief that are with me all day every second in every breath and beat of my heart in every thought in every step in everything I see and hear there is nothing but pain and sadness and sorrow and grief and I know drinking will make it go away. I also know it will kill me if I do it. Maybe not today or tomorrow but it will kill me. If I start I won’t be able to stop. There is pain and sadness and sorrow and grief. I have a glass of water. I sit with my friends as they drink and smoke.

  When it is time to leave I go back to Kevin’s apartment with him. I borrow three blankets and a pillow. I walk back to my new apartment. It is bitter fucking cold and as I walk I wrap myself in the blankets and I clutch the pillow against my chest. I am tired. I don’t know why I’m here or what the fuck I’m doing. I need a job and I need some money. I am lonely I miss Lilly so much, so much. It is the dead of night and it is bitter fucking cold and I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.

  I find the giraffes I say hello. I find my building and I open the door and I find my apartment and I open the door. I step inside. I don’t turn on the light and I don’t take off my jacket or my boots. I lie down on the floor.

  The blankets are wrapped around me and I’m clutching the pillow.

  I want to drink, but I know drinking will kill me.

  I want Lilly, but I know she’s not coming back.

  I am tired and I want to sleep.

  Sleep is not coming.

  I lie on the floor.

  I need a job and I need some money.

  I find a paper and I look through the classifieds. I write down addresses and walk around the city. It’s cold and the wind is a whip but the walking calms me. I apply for several jobs. Two at bars working as a doorman. One at a clothing store working in the stock room. One at a coffee shop serving the coffee and working the register. Two at gas stations pumping the gas. I shake hands and I smile and I am told to wait. I give them Kevin’s phone number. I wait.

  At the end of the day I meet Kevin. He takes me out for pizza. I didn’t eat today I’m flat fucking broke. After we eat, we meet our friends at the bar. They drink and smoke and I drink water and smoke. We shoot pool and talk and laugh, I am starting to be able to laugh again. I stay late sitting watching laughing smoking. I don’t laugh much, but every now and then is fine.

  The night ends and I walk back to Kevin’s apartment with him, check the messages, nobody’s called me. I walk home. It is home for at least the next two months I have nowhere else to go. I lie down on the floor and I wrap myself in the blankets and I clutch the pillow.

  Sleep does not come easily.

  Seconds become minutes become hours.

  Hours.

  I lie on the floor and I clutch the pillow.

  I miss her.

  I’m alone.

  I miss her.

  Dark becomes light.

  I lie on the floor.

  At last I sleep.

  I sleep.

  Sleep.

  I hear my door open. I’m not sure if what I hear is a dream or not. I hear footsteps across my floor. I’m awake I know it’s not a dream. I hear voices. Words being whispered someone’s in my apartment. What the fuck is going on here. I hear words someone is in my apartment. I’m awake. This is not a dream. Someone is here.

  I crack my eyes, look through the slits. My heart starts pounding. I see two pairs of leather shoes, expensive shoes. Who the fuck is here. I try to place the shoes, I can’t. I try to place the voices, I can’t hear them well enough to place them. I crack my eyes more, look up without moving my head. Why the fuck would someone be in my apartment. Cabinet doors start opening and closing. I look up more, more, more. I see the backs of two heads. I see a familiar bald spot. I open my eyes and I sit up and I speak.

  Leonard.

  Leonard turns around. He’s wearing a black trenchcoat and black suit and he’s holding a bag of coffee.

  My son.

  What are you doing here?

  You remember Snapper?

  How did you find me?

  Had someone look. Wasn’t hard.

  How’d you get in here?

  He motions to the man next to him.

  Had him open the door. That wasn’t hard either.

  I look at the man, who has turned around as well. He’s tall and thick and has short black hair and is also wearing a black trenchcoat and a black suit. I met him when he picked Leonard up from the treatment center. He’s an intimidating man, a man who looks more like a bear than a person, a man I would avoid were he not with my friend.

  How you doing, Snapper?

  I’m okay, Kid.

  I look back at Leonard.

  What are you doing here?

  Come here.

  How’d you get in
my apartment?

  Just come here.

  I stand.

  What?

  He motions me forward.

  Come here.

  I step toward Leonard, he steps toward me. He opens his arms and he puts them around me.

  I’m sorry for your loss.

  I start to speak, but I can’t.

  I’m so sorry.

  I start to cry.

  He hugs me.

  I start to cry.

  I cry.

  In the shower.

  As I brush my teeth.

  As I get dressed.

  Cry.

  I’ve never experienced anything like this, nothing else comes close. Grief, sorrow, sadness, pain pain pain. A hole in my chest that cannot be filled. A wound that is leaking. A break that I can’t repair, I’m broken and I can’t repair myself and there’s nothing I can do.

  I cry as I get dressed.

  I cry.

  I take a deep breath, compose myself. I step out of the bathroom. Leonard and the Snapper are waiting for me. We leave the apartment and I lock the door and we walk to their car, which is sitting at the curb. It’s new and large. A white, four-door Mercedes-Benz with black one-way windows. From what Leonard has told me, it is the only type of car that he will own, ride in or drive. He opens the front passenger’s door and climbs inside. Snapper opens the driver’s door and sits behind the wheel. I get in the backseat and Snapper starts the engine and we pull away from the curb. We drive out to the lake, head south down Lakeshore Drive toward the center of the city. I stare out the window, the lake is frozen, the trees without leaves, the wind strong enough that I feel it pushing the car.

  Leonard turns around, speaks.

  You hungry?

  I look at him.

  Yeah.

  You look thin.

  Jail food, and I haven’t been eating much since I’ve been here.

  I hate fucking jail food.

  Snapper speaks.

  Me too. That shit sucks.

  Leonard speaks.

  I always try to pay someone to bring me real food.