Shadow Traffic by Richard Burgin Read Free Book Online Page A

in any case I’d never seen her. In fact, in the eight months that I’d lived here I’d only seen three or four people going into or out of her place.
    I knew she used to be a professor, the real estate agent told me that. I knew from looking at her mail, which was often mixed in with mine on the floor that she subscribed to a variety of art and other cultural publications. So she must keep herself informed, yet I never heard her TV or radio, not even once, nor a note of music. She was trim and very active, which were good indicators about the quality of her life, yet her rapid-fire high-anxiety speech patter made me think she didn’t have much peace of mind.
    Generally I’d see her, albeit only for a few seconds, almost every day. Sometimes I’d see her picking up her morning newspapers from the front lawn (one
Philadelphia Inquirer
, one
New York Times
) like a bird gathering its birdseed, then climbing up the flight of stairs to her home. I’d feel bad then, more often than not, and wondered if I shouldn’t bring the papers up to her doorway myself. It didn’t seem like much of a sacrifice to make for a nice older woman, but I hadn’t yet done it.
    Finally I did start to hear laughter mixed in with sex sounds coming from my bedroom, but luckily it was after my Quaalude kicked in and in a little while I was asleep. It was a short dreamless sleep. When I woke (and it was probably what
did
wake me up) I heard the heavy strides of the dealer walking toward me until he stopped two feet in front of my chair.
    â€œHey, bro, you awake?” he said.
    â€œKind of. What’s up?”
    â€œCome with me now and I think she’ll do you too.”
    â€œWhat are you talking about?”
    â€œMaggie. I got her all sexed up and doing whatever I say and I told her to suck your dick and she said she would. How’s that for sharing the wealth, Dash style? Better than Obama, huh? Ha ha. Come on, we’ll end up banging her together. It’ll rock.”
    â€œThanks, but I don’t think so. I’m really tired and I took a lot of pills to sleep.”
    â€œAre you sure?” he said, in an incredulous tone of voice I’d never heard from him before.
    â€œYeah, I’m sure.”
    â€œWow, you just blew it, bro.”
    â€œJust enjoy her yourself.” I said. “I really need to get to sleep. I’ve gotta work tomorrow morning.”
    â€œOK, bro, your call. Don’t say I never did anything for you, though. She’s got an incredible bod.”
    Then he walked away. In the silence I soon began to wonder why I didn’t do it. I could certainly use the release, but I knew I couldn’t bear to perform in front of him, couldn’t stand to have him see me naked (I was convinced by now he must be very well endowed) while I tried to come. It all felt like a setup somehow.
    The sex noise came back a few minutes later but mercifully I fell asleep. When I woke up it was the next morning and Dash and Co. were quiet—either asleep or gone.
    I tiptoed over the hardwood floor and pulled open the Venetian blinds in my living room. A light snow almost as transparent as dew was falling on our little front lawn. It was early for it to snow, which reminded me that the whole summer and especially fall had seemed colder this year. But didn’t that contradict theglobal warming theory that I’d argued about with Dash? Then I remembered seeing someone on TV who explained the reason for it but I couldn’t quite recall what he said. I had to realize that it was just another thing I didn’t understand, any more than I understood how television itself worked, or how my own brain worked that chose to watch television and why it made the decisions it made, such as last night about Dash and Maggie, or why, for that matter, I kept acting in a way that I knew would drive my ex away even though I thought I wanted her to always be with me.
    I started