Stay with Me by Paul Griffin Read Free Book Online

of it, because when the wind changes, you get static sometimes, and I don’t need that at all.
    I’m heading out of the hutch when this old stoop-back crank Larry comes up to the roof to hang his wet sheets. Larry is the brand of idiot who catcalls at the ladies when they’re getting off the train. I see him out on the street, telling them what he would do to them if he got the chance. He nods at the elevator housing. “You better not have another dog in there. I’ll call the cops. When is it going to sink into that bag of dirt renting space in your skull? No dogs allowed in this building.”
    “No cats either.” Larry has cats, which I don’t mind. Cats are sly, but they’re all right sometimes, especially the ones who act like dogs.
    “Filthy, dogs are. The stink gets into my sheets.”
    Why can’t folks just leave folks alone? Serious, why do they always need to mess with you? I force myself to head for the stairs.
    “Look at him running away now. Look at him go. Queer bait. If I kicked that dog in front of you, you wouldn’t do anything but bawl like a baby hungry for the tit.”
    And that’s when it comes, just a flicker of it, that low note of a hiss always hanging deep in my mind. A sound that can’t decide if it wants to swell or fade. I tell myself to keep walking, but I’m not me anymore. I’m a rag puppet trying to get free of the strings. Getting jerked up high and fast into a sky hot enough to char the blue from itself. No air up here. Rib cage is caving in like these two fierce arms are clawing me from behind. The invisible hands turn me around real, real slow. I hear the hissing so loud that I can’t quite hear myself, or whatever is making me say “I’m warning you, man, first and last.” I sound like I’m underwater.
    “Waste of life. You warn me? I was in the navy. The only reason you’re standing here free on this roof to disrespect me is because I fought for your right to do it.”
    “Thank you for your service, but if you mess with my dog, I will hurt you, man. That’s no promise either. That’s a threat. I mean the other way around.” I’m shaking bad.
    Larry hangs his sheets, laughing at me. I can’t hear him. Just the radio static now. He mouths Punk as he heads downstairs. I make my hands into fists to keep myself from reaching into my back pocket and pulling my lock-blade. I’m liable to break my fingers, I’m balling them so tight.
    Takes a while for the heat to float off me, and then I drop hard back into my body, and I’m so heavy with the fear of what I almost did, I have to sit down. My mind is so crunched up there’s room for only one thought: I have to give Céce the pin. What’s the worst that could happen? I scare her off?
    That would suck.
    The minutes click by a little faster, and time becomes real time, and I’m back in the everydayness of things. I double-check the padlock on the elevator housing door. Only the old man and me have the key for it. Good solid door. Heavy metal to keep out the thieves, or at least Larry.

     
    (Saturday, June 20, afternoon)
    CÉCE:
     
    We take the bus for the air-conditioning that isn’t working anyway, and it T-bones a soda truck. A couple of people are faking whiplash for lawsuits, but everybody’s okay.
    “I had a vision I was in a bus accident,” I say. “Couple of years ago. Swear to God. Let’s just leave it at that.”
    “Let’s,” Anthony says as we hike toward the Too. “Look,” he says, “you’re perfect for each other.”
    “My brother wants to set me up with a dropout drug addict convict. I rock.”
    “Why do you have to think the worst?” he says.
    “Because that’s how it usually turns out.”
    “I know things about him. Things I can’t tell you. Trust me. I’m not saying you have to go out with him, but let him be a friend to you. He’ll help you.”
    “With what? And what things can’t you tell me?”
    “I can’t tell you.”
    “Trying to make him mysterious to get me to go out