“Would you like some water?” I asked.

He nodded yes. I went over to the fountain. Filling a Dixie cup, I limped back over and gave it to him. Then I walked over to the nurse and asked her whether or not she had forgotten about me.

“There are people in front of you.”

“Okay, did you forget about them?”

“Look, we’re understaffed and overloaded. I’m here on mandatory overtime myself.” Before she could continue, someone started hollering from down the corridor behind her. A gurney had appeared at the ambulance entrance. She ran over, joining a group in white who were working on the body as they wheeled it in. Turning into a side room, I watched through a door ajar as they stuck tubes into the body and cut off the clothes. Then the door was closed.

Pain or no, it cost too much to stay there. I couldn’t compete. In fact, I felt stronger witnessing how much farther others had ventured into agony, realizing how much farther I could go. As I walked down Eighth Avenue, under the twilight sky, street lights slowly started flipping on automatically. The sidewalk was empty, but the street was crowded with cars racing homebound. For no apparent reason, I suddenly remembered that tonight was the night of the contributor’s party for the Harrington. If Miguel went to the party, he’d discover my deceit in getting published. When he added that to the Ternevsky scandal, Miguel might begin piecing together what kind of person I was: someone not to be trusted. While thinking about Ternevsky, I remembered that I was still an outlaw and only Janus could issue clemency. At a corner public phone, I dialled her and put my finger to the clicker; if any male voice answered I was ready to hang up, but she did answer.

“Can you speak?”

“Yes, and I’m so happy. Ternevsky’s proposed to me. We’re going to Europe and there we’ll be married.”

“Just tell me one thing,” I interrupted. “Am I still being hunted by the cops?”

“No, not anymore. When Sergei calmed down, I reexplained it. I told him we both got drunk, but he threw out your clothes just the same. He made me take an AIDS test.”

“All my clothes are gone?”

“Yeah, then we both cried and he proposed to me. Isn’t it wonderful? I’m now Mrs. Ternevsky. God, I am so pleased. I wanted this all along.”

“All along?” I asked.

“Sure, I now feel some legitimacy.”

“But he’s old enough to be your father, and you said yourself that he’s a horrible lover and he just uses you.”

“I said we use each other.”

“How about us?” I asked.

“We had a wonderful time and now it’s over.”

“But if I had the same amount of money and all …”

“Shit,” she suddenly whispered, “I just heard the elevator, I’ve got to go.”

“Good luck,” I replied, and hung up slowly.

I searched through my pockets for another quarter in order to call Miguel and see what developments had occurred in the last four days. But I couldn’t find another quarter. After the conversation with Janus, I had this overwhelming fear. In my back pocket, crumpled up, I found the legal document he signed stating my interest in his company. With cane in hand, and pain in back, I went over to Columbus Circle and caught the IRT number one to Fourteenth. I then hobbled down the long uriney tunnel to the L, which I took to Third Avenue. Walking up to the box office window, I saw the face of a young white lady, which was a race we’d never hired before in filling this post. I smiled at her.

“Four dollars,” she commanded rather aggressively.

“Be careful,” I replied. “You never know when you might be talking to an employer.”

“Four dollars!” she repeated with added hostility.

“I’m the other manager,” I replied and tried to grin. “Is Miguel in?”

“Who?”

“Miguel?”

“Miguel, oh yes Miguel. Yes, I was told about you, one second.” Miguel had hired a dope I decided as I walked through the center door and down the corridor to the office. Opening the door was a two-way shock. I jumped back a bit and a nerdy guy leaning back in the manager’s chair bolted upright. Miguel replaced me, was the first thought that entered my head.

“Where’s Miguel?” I demanded angrily.

“Oh yes, Miguel. One second, I’ll get him.” He rose. “Please take a seat, I’ll be back in a moment.” He dashed out and I leaned back in his swivel chair. But immediately I felt something strange. The surroundings had been altered. Where the hell was the Yin Yang calendar? Gone too were the refrigerator and the TV. A lot of little things were missing, items that epitomized Miguel’s personality. There were neither granola crumbs along the desk top, nor herbal cigarette butts rubbed out in an improvised ashtray. Who the hell was the new box office girl? Where was everybody?

In front of me, piled up high on the desk, was a stack of files and the theater’s financial records spanning the last five years. Pushing them to one side, and seeing the wall behind it, only then did the mystery vaporize. A new digital dial system was encased in recently packed plaster. They must have caught Miguel, and I was next. I noticed that one of the buttons on the business phone was lit up. The nerd was probably notifying Ox on the extension in the box office. I slipped into the darkness of the theater. I was being captured by the new manager and his white box office woman standing near the exit. The only way out was across the roof. I limped up the steps to the projectionist booth and banged quickly.

“Who the fuck is it?”

1 announced myself and she opened. “We went through this before. You’re supposed to call up in advance.”

“Sorry, I forgot.” I entered quickly and shut the door behind me.

“What do you want?” she said. And then inspecting my enfeebled state, asked, “What the fuck happened to you?”

“I slipped while breakdancing,” I replied. “What happened to Miguel?”

“I think that he was ripping off money. All I know is that there were a bunch of police cars and they closed the theater yesterday and apparently fired everyone. They even requested a new projectionist, but the union stood behind me all the way. I’m surprised they didn’t fire you.” Poor Miguel, was all I could think.

“You didn’t turn him in did you?” she asked me.

“Of course not.”

“Then why didn’t they fire you?”

“They’re probably going to soon. I think they just want me to break in the new managers.”

“Why then did you have to ask me what happened to Miguel?”

“I wasn’t here yesterday—you were. I just said that they asked me to break this new guy in.”

“It’s all a damned shame. See what happens when you don’t have a union to protect you? By the way, be sure to fill them in on the union contract and my rights in dealing with them.”

“It’s already done. Listen, I’m a little busy right now and I’ve got a lot to do.”

“Like what?”

“They’re waiting for a report on the condition of the roof.”

“Oh, they’ve finally got around to wanting to fix that, and you’re probably going to take all the credit.”

“What credit?”

“I was the one that told you that roof was leaking. That’s what credit.”

“Calm down. I mentioned you in my preliminary report.” As I started climbing up the metal ladder, she kept hollering things up to me. While I undid the binding ropes and pushed the hatch free, I heard her nagging about the new manager looking like a repressed homophobe. What the hell did she want me to do, convert him? Despite my pains, I scrambled up and got beyond hearing distance. I wasn’t sure if eccentric people became projectionists or if the job made them that way. I supposed long hours in closed quarters would effect anybody. Looking out the front of the theater, under the flapping “Zeus” flag, I saw a cop car double parked. Next to it, another car pulled up and a fat little guy plopped out. It was Ox. Then the passenger door opened and a slim young male figure got out. He looked just like Miguel. Both of them quickly went into the theater. What the fuck was Miguel doing down there? He was supposed to be in jail.