Chapter 26

Jesus and Andrea arrived in New York City on a greyhound bus at 9:47 AM on a rainy Saturday morning in the third week of July. It was the beginning of a new chapter in their lives, a chapter that was bound to hold both deep sorrow and triumphant ecstasy. They arrived as strangers in a strange land, barely able to speak the language in a place and culture that could not be more unlike the small town of Nueva Casa they grew up in. Nothing was certain. They held no expectations for the future, nor could they. Jesus and Andrea only had the promise of his apparent father, a man he had known for less than a year, to go on. They did have one thing that they knew they could absolutely rely on- each other.

The two bore an intimate trust of one another. They had been witness to multiple life changing events, and they knew one another inside and out. Jesus had seen through Andrea’s cold outer shell, into her vulnerable inner self, and in return, Andrea had confided in him. Their relationship transcended their upbringing. They had become almost two sides of the same person. There were no secrets between them.

Their utter vulnerability to the outside world mirrored their vulnerability to each other. It was a lifetime bond not easily broken.

O’Neil met them at the bus station. Jesus did not recognize him, an overweight, middle aged Irish man in black slacks and a striped black and white windbreaker, nor could he; he was just another member of the eclectic New York City rabble, but Jesus and Andrea, two skinny Mexicans who wore tired, bewildered expressions, stuck out like a sore thumb in the busy bus terminal. O’Neil approached them with an arm extended, gripping Jesus’ hand in a bit-too-firm handshake before he had a chance to fully identify the fat man who had just approached him. “How’s it going you guys, welcome to the city.

I’m O’Neil, and that must make you Jesus and you Andrea. Pleased to meet you guys,” He said in a snappy banter.

“Good to meet you, too,” replied Jesus.

“A pleasure,” Chimed Andrea.

“Let me grab your bags, miss. Can’t have you lugging those around all by yourself. Now, as I’m sure Winston has told you, I’m gonna be keeping an eye out for you guys for a while. Now that don’t mean it’ll be no free ride, but I just happen to have a vacant apartment I can put you guys up in until you can pay the rent yourselves. I’ve taken the liberty of getting you both jobs at my buddy Luke’s pizza joint in Brooklyn, not too far from your new place. You’ll do fine there,” He spoke in a warm, low voice, like a man they could trust, or so it seemed.

The trio headed to a nearby diner to eat breakfast before O’Neil showed them to their apartment.

It was busy, but they were able to find an open table just as a waitress had cleared it off. Jesus was still getting used to the fast paced, busy energy of the big city. So many people were coming and going all the time, it was as if the world was moving at a lightning fast speed around him, and he was stuck on the inside of a glass cage watching the world fly around him. Busboys cleared tables and well-dressed professionals, construction workers, vagrants, wives, and children chattered away like wind up toys. The diner swirled at a breakneck speed. A young woman, her nametag read Jolie, came up to the table and talked faster than he could understand. Andrea and O’Neil shot words back and forth with her in a way that Jesus regarded with a glazed-eye dreamy disinterest.

“And for you sir? Sir. Sir!” The waitress said impatiently. Jesus snapped out of his state and scrambled for a menu.

“Uhh … Do you have steak?”

“Yeah, how do you want it cooked?” She said. Jesus looked at O’Neil. He didn’t know how to answer the question in English. It was inconvenient not to know the common language. He would have to learn fast.

“Make it medium,” O’Neil filled in.

“And the eggs?”

“Scrambled,” Said Jesus, “Like my brain.”

“Sorry, what was that?” The waitress said.

“Nothing.”

“Toast or hash browns?”

“Toast, please.”

“All right, and for you sir?” The waitress said, turning to O’Neil.

“Coffee, black, and two slices of toast.” O’Neil replied.

“Coming right up,” The waitress said, and hurried off. Andrea gave Jesus a concerned expression, tilting her head and mouthing something he couldn’t make out.

“So,” O’Neil began, “I want to know a little more about who I’m watching out for. I know that you’re Winston’s boy, but who are you? His girlfriend?”

“Friend. We grew up together,” Andrea said.

“And how did you end up here?”

“It’s a long story.”

“We got time.”

“Where do you want me to start?”

“At the beginning.”

Andrea sighed, as if it was some great effort. “My mother fell sick when I was a little kid. No one else could take care of me. I never knew my father. I started living at the orphanage when I had seven years- I mean when I was seven years old, and lived there until the fire last Christmas. Then, Jesus and I went to Baja Leai University together,” She replied, putting off the last part of the story.

O’Neil took the hint. He was, after all, the one that had facilitated the cleanup. He didn’t broach the subject of the murder.

“And what about you, Mr. O’Neil,” She said, “What’s your connection to Winston?”

“We’re business associates.”

“I’m sure you are,” She said.

“You would be right.”

“I bet.”

O’Neil turned to Jesus, “Is she always like this?”

“On the good days,” He said. It meant she was getting back her humor. Andrea was many things, but she wasn’t fragile. The food came after what seemed like an exorbitant wait for a simple meal, and they ate everything. O’Neil had eaten about half of a slice of toast when he laid a twenty bill on the table and got up. They took a bus across the river and walked four blocks through a lower-middle class residential area before O’Neil turned into the front of a large brown brick building.

“I own this building,” He said, unlocking the front door. “So if you see someone breaking in, call me, and then call the police,” He led them all the way to the top of the building. It was new, with a stainless steel elevator that currently had an, “Under repair,” Sign taped to the door. They took the stairs until they got to the door marked 6F.

“The last tenants left some stuff. I took the liberty of putting new sheets and toilet paper in the kitchen. You can change them out on your own time. Now, I left this here last week … ” He said, trailing off as he searched through the living room, which only had a lone couch, facing where an indentation in the carpet suggested had previously been the home of a television set. O’Neil picked up a camera from behind the couch. “I knew it was here somewhere. Now, Andrea, please stand by that wall,” he said.

She obliged and a bright flash of light accompanied by a descending whistle marked her photo being taken. O’Neil put down the camera and removed the film. He placed it in his jacket pocket, from which he produced a card and a small book.

“I hope you know how to drive,” O’Neil said, handing Jesus a driver’s license with his name and photo on it. It was the picture Winston took with him at the bakery, but it had been doctored. The background was a neutral beige.

Was he planning this all along? At least I don’t have to keep telling people that my name is Christian, “And here’s the passport. Don’t lose these. Take the ID with you wherever you go,” O’Neil Said, “I’ll have one ready for you next week,” He said to Andrea.

O’Neil showed them the two bedrooms and bathrooms, gave them his phone number and three twenty dollar bills.

“There’s a corner store a block away if you go the way we came and take a left. There’s a couple restaurants that are pretty good around there, too, just don’t go walking around by yourself at night. I’ll be back here at seven in the morning on Monday. Need anything else?”

“Yeah, a life,” Jesus said.

“Me too pal, me too.”

“How is it that you always have weed?” Jesus said. Andrea was breaking down the plant on the kitchen counter.

“I thought you only brought that little bit over the border with us. Which was, by the way, a terrible idea,” Jesus said.

“Who said I brought this over the border?”

“But we were only in Chicago for a week?”

“So?”

“We didn’t meet anybody.”

“You didn’t meet anybody.”

“You don’t mean that …!”

She shrugged, “I didn’t say that, either.”

“What, are you growing it out of your ass, then?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would, actually.”

“I’m sure,” She said.

“I’m not complaining.”

“I know.”

“Just when I thought I had you figured out.”

“Keep trying.”

“I will.” He said.

She finished rolling the joint and opened the living room window. From the sixth floor, they could see the whole block. Andrea lit it and inhaled.

“I gotta hand it to you, this is a pretty nice place. Sixth floor in New York City. You told me this two weeks ago and I would have laughed,” She said.

“What if I told you a few years ago?”

“I probably would have just looked at you funny.”

Jesus took a hit.

“Hey, you’ve been acting kind of weird lately. I noticed it this morning when you kind of spaced out, and when we were driving to Chicago you were talking to yourself.” She said.

“I guess the stress is just getting to me,” He said.

Her energy shifted. She turned towards him and draped her arms over his shoulders.

“Is my big man all stressed out? I think I have something for that,” She said in a sultry voice.

Jesus’ heart rate shot up. His eyes dilated. His pants stiffened. She led him to the bedroom. Is this really happening?

Andrea and Jesus had each other like lovers do into the night and through Sunday.