became apparent to her how much he’d risked by taking her there, and that the only reason he’d done it was because she had wanted it. She took his hand, pulled him closer to her, and embraced him. She kissed him softly on the cheek. He felt a bit embarrassed, standing there, on an open street corner, that way. But he didn’t mind.
CHAPTER 6
Paul Sims lay in bed, tossing and turning, trying desperately to fall asleep. Thoughts raced through his mind as they did every night, about home, school, and life in general. Always unhappy thoughts. He could hear some late movie blaring on the TV in the bedroom down the hall where his mother was fast asleep, alone as usual.
That damned, fucking television !
He always blamed her television for his insomnia. Once, he actually dared to walk into her room and turn it off, only to catch hell the next morning. He never tried that again. Now, he just lay there, night after night, wondering how he could just make everything go away.
About twenty miles away, Alfred Sims was walking through one of his properties, a building across the street from Lincoln Terrace Park in Crown Heights. Every month he personally appeared at the doors of his tenants’ homes to collect the rent. Some of the other landlords still did the same, but most had recently delegated the task to their supers. It wasn’t safe anymore; the neighborhood was changing.
But Alfred wasn’t changing, not as far as this particular building was concerned. He wasn’t ready to give up his only excuse to drop in on the exotic Loretta Eubanks, his wife’s “loyal” housekeeper.
Since moving to Crown Heights, Loretta had finally accepted his offer to take care of their son, Joshua. It was the least he could do, she reasoned, after she’d spent nine years struggling.
He always made her his last stop, thereby insuring that little Joshua was asleep. He hadn’t seen Joshua since the boy was an infant, another thing he didn’t want to change. Luckily, Joshua was a sound sleeper, once he hit the pillow, nothing—save an explosion of his mother’s wrath—could awaken him.
Lately, however, Loretta had been snubbing Alfred. She loathed his disregard for Joshua, and frowned upon his visits to her home. She was unafraid of losing her job. In that, she knew she was secure.
Her resistance only made Alfred want her more. He continued to visit, but usually ended up leaving frustrated. Tonight, he knew, would be no different. But he still had to see her. He just couldn’t help himself.
The next morning, as usual, Loretta Eubanks arrived at seven-thirty, in time to prepare breakfast for Alfred and Paul. Evelyn slept late; she never got up before ten.
Alfred typically ate alone and was out of the house by eight, before Paul came down. But today things were different. Alfred had overslept—those late nights were taking their toll—and wound up breakfasting with his son. It was quiet at the table. Loretta was accustomed to handling Alfred in one way, and Paul in another. Her discomfort was evident from her silence.
“How are those Bar Mitzvah lessons coming along?” Alfred asked, as he lifted an eye over the daily newspaper.
“Okay, I guess.”
“What does ‘okay’ mean?”
“Everything is fine,” Paul said. “Rabbi Weissman thinks I’m doing well.” He found his father’s sudden interest in his Bar Mitzvah perplexing, especially over a plate of bacon and eggs.
“Well, I hope he’s right,” Alfred responded. “Those private lessons of yours are costing me a fortune.”
Paul felt ashamed of what he was eating as the image of Rabbi Isaac Weissman, his Sunday-school teacher and private Bar Mitzvah tutor, came to mind. He pictured the rabbi’s gentle face, soft and deeply set blue eyes, small—almost emaciated—body, and long scraggly beard. But most of all, he pictured the dark rings under the rabbi’s eyes, the reminder that Rabbi Weissman was a kindred spirit in the struggle for sleep. In fact,