A Dove of the East by Mark Helprin Read Free Book Online Page B

wind. It just made my face red, and I rushed through Brooklyn running in the sleet to Sedgwick Street. It’s a Puerto Rican section, and I smelled
arroz con polio
from the little restaurants. I went right to the warehouse, near the harbor, which is the sea. The sleet fell into the sea and the sea swayed up against the gray stone wall and sprayed the street, and I entered the place. It was lit by a few naked bulbs.
    â€œA little bald man was yelling at five or six blacks. He was fierce. He cursed them. He abused them. He called them names and gave them precise instructions.
    â€œI ran up to him and took him by the shoulders. He smelled of oil, or perhaps it was from the sea, or a truck fueling outside. I said, ‘My wife is dying. Give me Christmas tree lights, the kind that bubble, and maybe she will be better.’
    â€œHe thought I was crazy. He thought I was a madman, especially since I was red and soaking wet and trembling all over. ‘Christmas tree lights?’ he said. ‘All right, how many?’ ‘Just one set,’ I said, ‘one set. Please hurry.’
    â€œHe gave me a strange look and then called his men together. ‘You see this boy,’ he said, ‘his wife is dying, so he needs the kind of lights that bubble, model three, you know, who’s gonna get them for him?’ They laughed. The whole warehouse was steaming, cold, and dark. Shreds of red packing on the floor made the place look like a battlefield where many men had been slaughtered. The oil smoke was choking. Someone must have been clearing a chimney nearby. One finally spoke. ‘I’ll get them,’ he said, ‘I know where they are.’ He was a thin black man. He looked like he was dying himself, from the labor, from the cold, and he ran to a freight elevator. In a minute he was back, smiling and graceful as he ran. He gave me the lights. He said, ‘Take off man.’ The bald-headed man said, ‘Wait, don’t you believe in paying?’ But the other man said, ‘Take off!’ and threw his arm violently outward, toward the door. ‘You don’t got time, go!’ and I left, running.”
    Biferman and Harold reached the edge of the park where Biferman was to go one way and Harold the other. They stood in the field still under the stars which in the clear air of blackest night were violent in their cool sparkling. Biferman went on, in the cold wind, as red as he had been in the sleet of that January.
    â€œIt took me so long to get home, but when I did I ran all the way from the subway to the Rosens’. I was planning a party. When we were engaged she had worn a dress of black velvet, and when we drank champagne I took her into the hall and we stood by the tricycles, kissing. A little boy came out of another apartment and gasped. Katrin’ laughed although she was concerned that he was so worried.
    â€œI was planning as I ran, a get-well party, even though I had always been afraid of parties. It would be so joyous—to have such a party.
    â€œRosen was not yet home from the store. I unpacked the lights and tiptoed into Katrina’s room. It was so quiet. I could hear the wind outside but I did not notice the sound of her breathing. I had already plugged in the lights when I realized she was not breathing. I clipped them to a white curtain, one by one, until they were strung out gaily in a chain. There were about twenty of them, a deluxe set. I knew she was not breathing. My plan was to let the lights warm up and start to bubble before I awakened her. I could not hear her breathing, but I pretended that I could, for a long time, until the lights were warm. And when they started to bubble and they cast a beautiful warm light and I could feel the heat from them, a red glow on my face, I said through my tears, ‘Katrina...’ and she did not answer. ‘Katrina,’ I said, ‘Katrina my love ... Katrin’?...I brought you the lights.’