Unhooking the Moon (13 page)

The Rat approached a man reading a paper. ‘How far to the Bronx, buddy?' asked the Rat, who had never called anyone
buddy
in her life.

The man looked around him. ‘We're in the Bronx. What part do you want?'

‘We want the part with the drug dealers.'

He looked at her strangely.

‘Too much television,' I said, and took her away by the arm.

As the train came to a stop, I grew nervous. I didn't like the idea of searching the Bronx, and now we
were there I liked it a lot less. All the other passengers made their way off the train and down the stairs. But I didn't. I just stood on the platform looking around me, and I didn't like what I saw. We had made it to the Bronx; I was just hoping we could make it out.

We got buzzed through another black gate and bumped our bikes down to the street below. The sky was clouding over. And the overhead itself blocked out much of the dismal light, as did the tall tenement buildings that ran alongside it. They were the types with the fire escapes fixed to the outside and they looked really rundown. And even those that didn't look rundown didn't look nice. Neither did the stores with the people partitioned inside the reinforced glass, or the garbage mounds, or the abandoned cars. The Bronx was a gloomy place and just when I thought it couldn't get any gloomier it started to rain. We pulled our rain jackets and baseball caps from our rucksacks and put them on. We're prairie kids. We're used to hot summers and freezing winters, but the rain I couldn't stand!

‘Let's start right here and work our way back to the
city,' said the Rat. ‘We'll follow the overhead railway. That way we can't get lost.'

And so we started with the four guys standing on the corner. ‘Excuse me, do you know Jerome DeBillier?' I asked.

‘
Que
?'

‘
Sabes
Jerome DeBillier?' asked the Rat.

They shook their heads. Moving down we asked another group of guys, but they didn't know either. Neither did the movers or the man sweeping the street. The Rat went into a store to ask the owner and I asked these two shaven-headed Hispanic guys sitting in a car, but they just glared at me. They were just a couple of bullies who wanted to scare me. But they didn't have to. I was scared already.

‘No luck in there,' said the Rat. ‘But I bought a guidebook with a pullout map. Now we can find things.'

We pushed our bikes down the street asking people as we went. I didn't like asking people. I mean, I knew we were coming to New York to search for our uncle, but I never imagined how stupid I would feel doing it.

Then the Rat asked this stocky, bald, white guy who must have been about fifty. He looked at her like he hadn't understood. Then he put his hand to
his ear. ‘Speak up!' he shouted.

‘Jerome DeBillier,' shouted the Rat.

‘Joe the millionaire. I know Joe. But he's no millionaire!' he snarled. ‘And even if he was he wouldn't give you anything!'

What a grouch.

Then this tall Latino, in a cream suit, came out of a bar. ‘Who's a goddamn millionaire?'

‘Joe,' shouted the deaf guy. ‘But he wouldn't give you anything either!'

‘Why the hell not? Who does this Joe think he is?'

‘Don't mess with Joe!' snarled the deaf guy.

‘Tall Toni messes with who he likes! OK! Who the hell is this Joe anyway? And who the hell are
you
telling
me
I can't mess with him?' said Tall Toni prodding the deaf guy with his finger.

The deaf guy slapped his hand away. ‘Don't touch me, dickhead!'

‘Touch you! I'll squeeze your bald head until the gum comes out!'

Suddenly the deaf guy smacked Tall Toni with a right hook. Then they both started throwing blows. I'm not kidding. They actually started fighting over this guy Joe, whoever he was. The Rat's eyes widened and she got up close like a referee.

‘Come away!' I told her, but she ignored me.

‘Here's a fight!' shouted a guy coming out the bar. A dozen people followed him and, ignoring the rain, they cheered on the contenders. Other people came running from across the street. Some shouted for them to stop while others looked on happy for them to fight. Within a minute there was a crowd. One guy pulled money from his pocket. ‘Two to one on Tall Toni to take the mute!' he shouted.

I lost sight of the Rat. Then I saw her with the gambling guy. She had money in her fist and she was rooting for someone. She always got crazier when crazy things happened. Then I saw a cop car coming down the street.

‘Here's the police!' I shouted.

Some people scattered or piled back into the bar. Others cheered their arrival as though it added to the entertainment. The cop car pulled up with its lights flashing. But that didn't stop Tall Toni and the deaf guy going at it.

‘Come on!' I shouted.

The Rat ran towards me with her bike. ‘Another minute and I would have won ten bucks!'

‘Forget about that. Let's go.'

We rode until the commotion was way behind
us. More cop cars raced to the scene; we could see them pull up where the fight had been. Me and the Rat looked at each other and laughed. ‘Who did you have, anyway, Tall Toni?'

‘Are you kidding!' said the Rat. ‘I had the deaf guy, he was a real meanie. That drunk wouldn't have gone the distance.'

The Rat was crazy. But she was really crazy if she thought the deaf guy would have took Tall Toni. He was twenty years younger at least.

‘I'm going to ask that old couple,' said the Rat. And went off to talk to them.

‘Nice bikes.'

I turned to see a guy sheltering in an open doorway. He was smartly dressed in a shirt and tie, and a suit jacket hung casually over his shoulder. He looked so out of place with his surroundings.

‘Yeah, they're OK,' I said. ‘You live here?'

‘Me? No I can't stand this neighbourhood,' he said speaking with a kind of accent. ‘It's my mother's house. She's lived here all her life and now she won't move. “Come live with us,” I tell her. “Maria and the kids would love to have you.” But she won't listen. She loves it here. I can't stand this neighbourhood or this rain,' he said looking around him.

‘Me neither.'

He laughed a little. ‘So, why you walking around in it?'

‘I'm looking for my uncle. His name's Jerome DeBillier. You know him?'

He looked puzzled. ‘Jerome DeBillier. I think he's a friend of Larry's. Hang on.' He went in the house and, walking down a dark hallway, he pushed open a door. I could just make out the light on his face. ‘Ma. Isn't Jerome DeBillier a friend of Larry's? He is. Where does he live?'

I couldn't believe it!

‘What's your name, kid?' he shouted.

‘Bob.'

‘Ma's calling Larry on the phone. Come in out the rain, Bob. I'll take you round there when she gets the address.'

I was just about to step inside when the Rat's fingers clawed my arm. She glared at that guy like you wouldn't believe! When I looked back at him, the friendly look had left his face.

‘Come on in. What are you waiting for?' he said.

‘Come away, Bob,' said the Rat.

She walked me away without letting go of my arm. And for some reason I let her.

‘What are you doing?' I asked, prising her fingers away. ‘That guy has a friend who knows Uncle Jerome. His mother's calling him on the phone.'

She looked up at me and shook her head. Then she looked at the house. ‘There's no one in that house except him. He uses it to trap people, kids mainly.' Her face cringed like she was seeing something nasty. ‘Tonight a gang of men go in there. He's screaming he didn't do it. But he did do it and they know he did. I can see blood splatter on the walls … And I can see his lifeless body.'

I was so freaked out I couldn't think. I didn't know what to believe, so I turned on her. ‘One day the men in white coats are going to scoop you up in a butterfly net and take you away!'

The guy appeared in the doorway and glared at the Rat. And then, smiling, he ran his finger across his throat.

I froze with fear and disgust.

‘Ah beep you, you goddamn demon!' shouted the Rat. ‘You think I couldn't recognize you! See how tough you are tonight when you get your beeping head beat in!'

His eyes bulged with badness and silent obscenities drooled from his mouth. It was such a horrible thing to see.

‘Come on, let's go!' I jumped on my bike but the Rat stayed where she was. ‘Leave it!' I shouted.

She got on her bike and we sped away. I looked over my shoulder to make sure he wasn't following. He wasn't. But I kept on going.

‘Goddamn murderer!' said the Rat riding alongside me.

I pulled up. ‘He's a murderer! That's just great!' I shouted. ‘Now I have to worry about murderers as well as gang-bangers, drug dealers, and street fights! I can't wait to see what will happen next!'

‘No need to be so dramatic, Bob.'

A statement like that coming from the biggest drama queen on the block brought me back to my senses.

‘I know,' she said, ‘let's break for lunch. We'll have a nice lunch and then we'll start over. We're not going to let that goddamn demon spoil our day. What do you say to pizza?'

I was so freaked-out I said OK. What else was I going to say?

After pizza we continued our search. But the hours passed and we still hadn't found one person who knew our uncle. It was only then that the chief's words turned over in my mind,
You may never find
him. He might not even be in New York
. I'd let my crazy little sister talk me into coming here because she didn't want to go in a home. He could be in jail. He could be dead for all we knew. I felt so down when I thought about it. And we were so far away from home.

I stood there and watched the Rat have fun in her own little world. She sidestepped to the salsa music while asking people as they passed. There was no doubt in her mind. It was as though she expected one of them to point him out in the street or to give her directions to his home.

The rain came down harder soaking my sneakers and dampening my jeans. I wandered down a side street and, finding an abandoned building, I stood in the doorway. It smelled a bit, but I was too tired to care. I'd have given anything to be back in Winnipeg.

The Rat followed me down. She looked puzzled. ‘What are you doing, Bob? You'll never find him standing here.'

‘We'll never beeping find him anyway!' I said. But I never beeped.

‘What! Our dear dead father is not yet cold in his grave and you've taken to using profanity!'

‘Shut up!' I told her. ‘You say
goddamn
!'

‘So!
Goddamn
isn't swearing! You're not damning God or anything. It doesn't mean anything, not really. Now, I'm going to look for him! Are you coming?'

I felt so sad I couldn't speak.

The Rat looked worried. ‘Are you OK, Bob? Would you like me to go get you something?'

I thought about the Old Man and the grief came.

‘I think we've done really well so far, getting to New York and all. Lots of kids wouldn't have made it this far.'

I could feel the fear and the anger growing inside me.

‘We'll find him, Bob,' she said. ‘We only have to believe.'

‘Don't be so stupid! We'll never find him! We should never have come here!'

She cringed. ‘Don't be like that. Come on. You don't want to go in a home, do you?'

‘I don't know! At least I'd be away from you! Do you know how crazy you are? Do you know how much I have to put up with? If the proper authorities do catch up with us they won't put you in a home. They'll put you in a mental hospital!'

The Rat looked at me and then she walked away. I stood there for a second, my head fell into my hands,
and then I started to cry. I tried to stop myself but I couldn't. I cried for myself because I was feeling so lost. And I cried for the Rat who would now have to go in a home. And I cried for our dear dead father who I loved very much.

When I managed to stop myself I popped my head out the doorway. I expected to see her but she wasn't there. I dried my eyes and went back to the corner. But she wasn't there either. And her bike had gone! I looked around me but she was nowhere in sight. I panicked. I unlocked my bike and rode around like a madman. I rode down a dozen side streets, but nothing. I rode back on to the main street looking in the stores and restaurants as I went. Then I started asking people had they seen a little white girl on a BMX, but no one had. Seeing a train station I ran up the steps to the overhead. She wasn't there. Then I saw a police car parked on the street below. I had to tell them. She could be lost. That strange guy could have got her. But as I ran down the stairs I saw her standing alone on some waste ground. Jumping on my bike, I sprinted around the block and skidded on to the muddy ground. She was watching the rain drip into a large puddle. She wasn't crying, the Rat never cried, but she looked pale and confused, which was
even worse. ‘Are you OK?' I asked.

‘Do you really think they'll put me in a mental hospital?'

Boy did I feel ashamed! She must have been feeling something after Dad's death even if she never showed it.

‘Because my fits are getting worse and sometimes my head – '

‘No! I was feeling bad and I took it out on you! I didn't mean it, I swear!'

She looked up at me. ‘So, I'm not even a little bit crazy?'

‘Well … maybe just a little.'

When she chuckled the joy and the colour came back into her face. There's one thing I'll say for the Rat: she never holds a grudge. ‘Come on,' I said. ‘Let's go find our uncle.' I put my hand on her shoulder and we walked our bikes back to the main street.