Joshua: A Brooklyn Tale Part 13

"I guess I've taken up enough of your time, Doctor."

Goldman smiled. "I hope I was helpful."

"You were," she responded. "I think I needed to hear myself say a few things."

"To get them off your chest?"

"Yes, you could put it that way."

"Listen," he said as he opened his desk drawer, "if you ever feel that you want to do this again, here's my card." He handed her the card with the address and phone number of his private office.

Evelyn took the card, appearing appreciative of the gesture. In a more cynical moment she might have suspected him of drumming up business, but no such thought crossed her mind. She trusted him, though she would probably never avail herself of his offer. She had said what she'd come to say, and that was the end of it. She'd harbored no illusions that her confession would ease her remorse, and left Harold Goldman's office feeling much the same as she had upon entering it. Nothing was different, and in her mind nothing ever would be. She simply lacked the strength to change; otherwise, she would have done so years ago.

CHAPTER 19.

Joshua received five years probation from a deal worked out with the DA. A charge of involuntary manslaughter, an explanation to the judge as to what had happened-absent his editorializing-and that was that. His sole lesson from all this was that Rothman was right: n.o.body gave a s.h.i.+t.

It was odd that Jerome and his mother, both of whom were present at the hearing, didn't protest. Odd, but not surprising. Joshua figured Alfred Sims was probably going to take good care of them.

He was home within two days, and had the weekend before returning to school. He wasn't worried what the kids in school might say or think, all he cared about was finding Celeste. Nothing else mattered.

His mother insisted he stay at home until Monday. It was becoming harder for him to defy her, without feeling guilty. He promised himself this would be the last time.

"Joshua, where do you think you're going?" Loretta asked as he walked toward the front door. He didn't answer, for she knew exactly where he was headed, and the determination in his step made it clear that he wasn't going to be stopped. She didn't go after him, didn't yell or say anything else. The only sound that followed her question was the door as it closed.

He got off the elevator, and looked at the stairway leading to the bas.e.m.e.nt. He paused for a second, feeling a surge of anguish. Loretta had told him that Jerome and his mother had moved out just after the funeral, yet he could still hear screams coming from downstairs. He wondered when the screams would stop.

He walked out into the street, knowing precisely where he would begin his search. As he headed towards the old neighborhood, he swore he would find Celeste, bring her home, and personally deliver her to her mother and Jerome, wherever they were. Perhaps that would make amends. He also swore to himself that he would avoid trouble at all costs. He couldn't break his mother's heart again. How he would do all this, however, he hadn't a clue. He would leave it in G.o.d's hands. His first religious moment.

Joshua approached the corner where Big Bob conducted most of his business. Instead of Bones, another thug was standing around, negotiating with the ladies. Joshua didn't recognize him. New blood on the streets. He figured Bones was inside with Big Bob, counting the day's profits.

He walked into the store and over to the cash register. Mr. Powell was listening to the horse races on a small transistor radio.

"Well, well. Looky what we got here," Powell commented.

"Go right ahead and press that buzzer," Joshua said, trying to appear undaunted.

Almost immediately, the back door opened and Bones stepped out. He saw Joshua right away. "I'll be, see here what the cat dragged in," Bones muttered.

Joshua was silent.

"I hear you been having some problems with the law," Bones said, giving Powell a laugh. He walked toward Joshua. "Word is, you killed the girlfriend's old man and got away with it because of that rich Jew your mama works for."

Joshua was still silent.

Bones stood in Joshua's face. "I suppose you ain't got that money you owe us, right?"

Joshua backed away.

"So then, I ask myself, 'What the f.u.c.k you doing' here?' I know you ain't looking for work, so you must be looking for your girl."

"That's right," Joshua replied.

"Maybe I don't know where she's at anymore."

"And that depends on..."

"On what you're willing to pay for the information."

As Joshua had expected, it all came down to money. He also knew that what he already owed Big Bob wouldn't cut it at this point. "Guess I should be talking to Big Bob," he said, needling Bones, who wasn't empowered to negotiate.

"Yeah, well, maybe you got that right," Bones said, his anger showing. "I'll see if he's available." He turned and walked toward the back room.

Joshua stood, waiting, staring into s.p.a.ce. Much of his youth had been spent hanging around this store, running errands, doing this and that for Big Bob. He wondered if he would ever truly get away from it. He glanced over at Mr. Powell, who was sitting on a stool behind the counter, still listening to the horses. The old man's expression was impa.s.sive; just another ordinary day in the neighborhood.

Joshua heard the door in the back open as Big Bob emerged.

"So I hear you wanna see me, talk some business?" Big Bob said.

Joshua nodded.

"I hear you ain't found that poor girl yet. Also heard her daddy met with a terrible accident." Big Bob brandished his sneer.

Joshua wondered why anybody would constantly show off such disgusting teeth, but figured Big Bob relished displaying all his gold, wherever he had it.

"Then you know why I'm here," Joshua answered.

"Then you know its gonna cost you."

Joshua looked into Big Bob's eyes, waiting for the terms. The look was to let Big Bob know that he wasn't intimidated any more. And he wasn't. True, Big Bob could hurt him, even kill him, a convenient way to send a message to others about the consequences of disloyalty. But Joshua wasn't scared. He saw Big Bob for the low-down, dirty, slime-ball, pimping, drug dealer he was, a man who probably wouldn't last much longer, before one of his aspiring underlings got too ambitious. It was a liberating realization, one that helped him see himself more clearly. Perhaps there was hope for him yet. But first, there was the matter of Celeste.

"Here's what I'm gonna do for you," Big Bob said. "First, I'm not saying I know where the girl is. Let's make that clear from the start."

Joshua nodded. It wasn't time to argue, it was time for business. Big Bob couldn't be trusted, but that wasn't important. All that mattered was the money, and Joshua knew that if he had it, Big Bob would come up with the girl.

"What I am saying is that I-as you know-have a way of finding things out. But as you also know, these things come at a price."

Joshua nodded again.

"Now, If I'm correct, you're already into me for..." He stopped to calculate in his mind; this too, Joshua knew, was part of the ritual.

"Fifteen hundred," Joshua interjected.

"Yes, I believe that's it. But that was a few days ago; now, I guess a fair price would be, about, let's see..." He hesitated again. "How about, twenty five hundred?"

The question was rhetorical. Twenty five hundred would be the amount, and if Joshua didn't produce it soon, it would increase. His problem was, where was he going to get it?

Big Bob, guessing Joshua's thoughts, said, "Why don't you ask that Jewish lawyer your mama works for? Seems he's got some interest in you. I wonder why that is?"

"Oh, I suppose you got a story about him, too." Sarcasm.

"No story. I ain't got no stories, only facts. And the fact, Peanut, my man, is that your mama seems to be a little more than a maid for that man. Who knows, maybe that's how you got those eyes of yours?"

Joshua held his temper, and tried to stay focused. He knew Big Bob wanted to unravel him, if only for the pure pleasure of it. He'd long suspected something about his mother and Alfred Sims anyway, though suspecting was one thing, while knowing was another. Now, he knew.

The next morning, Loretta took off from work to escort Joshua to his first meeting with his probation officer. She wanted to make sure he didn't somehow get "lost" along the way, and also wanted to meet the officer. She didn't mention to Joshua about his having walked out the night before. He wasn't surprised; she never wasted words.

They entered a small, windowless cubicle. There were three chairs, one behind a dark gray aluminum desk, and two in front of it. The dull green walls were lined with aluminum file cabinets, the same color as the desk, and both the cabinets and the desk were covered with piles of papers.

In the chair behind the desk sat a bespectacled, balding man in a dark suit. The baldness was the first thing Joshua and Loretta noticed, for when they walked in, the man was looking down at a file: Joshua's file. The other thing they noticed was that atop the man's head sat a black skullcap.

Without looking up, the man gestured for them to sit. Joshua couldn't help but stare at the yarmulke. Loretta noticed, and nudged him with her elbow. He got the message and stopped.

Suddenly, the man looked up from his papers. "I'm Mr. Kimmel, your probation officer," he said softly. Beneath the man's long scraggly black beard, Joshua discerned a welcoming smile.

"Good day sir," Loretta said, her polite southern manner s.h.i.+ning through. She knew exactly how to address white folks, especially Jewish ones. "I'm Loretta Eubanks. This is my son Joshua."

"Yes, I know," Kimmel answered as he glanced back at his papers. "I can see that Joshua has been having a hard time lately," he observed, flipping through the file. He looked again at Loretta and Joshua.

"That would be putting it lightly," Loretta replied.

Kimmel smiled again, obviously appreciating her frankness. "Well," he said, turning to Joshua, "it's my philosophy that the past is the past, especially with someone your age." He stopped himself, as if to give his words a chance to sink in. "I'm here to help you in whatever way I can, and I hope you take advantage of that help."

"Yes sir," Joshua said. Loretta had forewarned him that these were to be the only two words to come from his mouth.

"Now, I see from your school records that you made quite a turnaround before this unfortunate incident. It says here that, in the past year, you became a straight A student." Kimmel looked curious.

"Yes sir."

"Well, it's clear you're very bright and that you have a lot of potential. If you can keep that up..."

"Don't worry," Loretta interjected. "Joshua's gonna take care of his school work. I'll see that he does."

Kimmel looked for a reaction from Joshua, who nodded in agreement.

This was turning out quite differently than Joshua had antic.i.p.ated. Instead of being an apathetic bureaucrat, Kimmel seemed sincere, even friendly. And then there was the beard and the yarmulke. Joshua guessed that Kimmel was Hasidic, for the only Jews he had known who looked like that were the Hasidim of Crown Heights. Joshua had often heard Hasidic Jews talking on the streets, but he'd never heard any speak English. He also never imagined one working as a probation officer. He had always thought them to be rabbis or business owners. And he'd also imagined them as harsh and unfriendly, though he had never been given reason to. In all, Kimmel perplexed him.

"I think it would also be helpful if we could find Joshua a summer job," Kimmel said. "School will be over in less than a month; it would be good to earn some money."

I need a lot more than 'some' money, Joshua thought, though the job wasn't a bad idea. It would keep him off the streets and give him some responsibility. He knew that this was exactly what Kimmel had in mind, and appreciated the man's not having framed it in that way. He was liking Kimmel more by the minute.

"And what kind of job do you suggest?" Loretta asked.

"Well, I see you live in Crown Heights, which, coincidentally, is where I live. I know a lot of people in the neighborhood, and I might be able to find something close to home. Let me make some calls; I'll get back to you in a couple of days, okay?"

Loretta nodded.

"Okay with you, Joshua?" he asked.

"Yes sir."

It wasn't a few days. In fact, it was that very same afternoon that Mr. Kimmel called to tell Loretta he'd found something. Joshua would be helping the custodian of the Lubavitcher synagogue on Eastern Parkway and Kingston Avenue, just a few blocks from home. He could start as soon as school was over. Kimmel gave Loretta the phone number of a Rabbi Weissman, who would be setting everything up.

"Would that be Rabbi Isaac Weissman?" Loretta asked.

"Yes, it is," Kimmel responded. "Do you know him?"

"Yes, I do."

Loretta explained the connection, how Rabbi Weissman used to come to the Sims' home to tutor Paul, and how the Rabbi was always polite and respectful to her even though she was the housekeeper. She also mentioned that Paul was now studying and living in a yes.h.i.+va on Eastern Parkway. Joshua, overhearing his mother's end of the conversation, was surprised, for he had never been told any of this. Just then, he realized that it had been quite some time since she'd mentioned Paul altogether.

Loretta was almost speaking with Kimmel as though he were an old friend. When she hung up, she turned to Joshua, and said, "He's a fine man, that Mr. Kimmel, a mighty fine man, I'd say."

She picked up the phone again, and dialed the number Kimmel had given her. "h.e.l.lo, is this Rabbi Weissman?" she asked.

"Yes, who is this?"

"Good afternoon, Rabbi, I don't know if you remember me, but I'm Loretta Eubanks..."

"Of course I remember you!"

They chatted for a while; some about Paul, but mostly about Joshua. Loretta expressed her grat.i.tude for the rabbi's help, and a.s.sured him that Joshua would be exemplary in his new job. She repeated what a "fine man" Mr. Kimmel was, and how coincidental it was that all this ended up in the rabbi's lap.

When she hung up, she turned to Joshua. "This is a small world, Joshua. It strengthens my faith in the Lord when things like this happen. Rabbi Weissman has done a lot for Paul Sims, and if you let him, he'll do some good for you."

Joshua thought to ask what it was that this rabbi fellow had actually done for Paul Sims, but didn't bother. He wasn't in the mood to hear about Paul Sims.

Loretta got busy in the kitchen, while Joshua went to his room. He knew he should open his school books, for tomorrow would be his first day back in over a week, and he had some catching up to do. Instead, he stared out his window, wondering how he was going to come up with Big Bob's money.

Outside, while it was getting dark, kids were still playing ball in the park, and other folks were just standing around. He thought about Celeste, and the times they used to sneak into that very same park. He knew those days were over and would never return, that things would never be the same. But he also knew that he had to find her and bring her home, no matter what it took.

At dinner, Joshua drank a gallon of milk. He wasn't a milk lover, but it was the only way he could devise to get his mother out of the house. It worked; after clearing the table, she decided to run down to the market to pick up milk for the morning.

As soon as she left, he went through her bag, searching for the small red phone book she kept there. He found it, turned to the names and numbers listed under "S," and saw two numbers for the Simses. One of them, marked Alfred-private, was the one he needed. He knew he was taking a chance, but he had no other choice. He lifted the receiver and dialed the number.

The phone rang three times on the other end, before a man's voice came on the line, saying, "h.e.l.lo."

"h.e.l.lo, this is Joshua Eubanks." Trembling.

"Oh, yes, Joshua." There was a long hesitation. "Yes, how are you?" Nervousness.

"Well, not so good." Joshua stopped himself, thinking, this is a bad idea, I should hang up now! He took a deep breath, and said, "I was wondering if you could meet me tomorrow. There are some things I need to talk to you about." He couldn't believe he was actually doing this.