Lemmon's Journey

Chapter Seven

His head shook and he muttered something intelligible to himself as his eyes fluttered awake. Everything appeared blurry. Lemmon raised his head which rested on his palm and cracked his mouth open in a yawn. He got his glasses out of his pocket and wiped their lenses before wearing it to admire the panoramic view of the city before him. The bus was driving along New Jersey 495 East, and soon came upon the line of toll gates, which they soon drove past. There was now a lot of chatter going on inside the bus and he overheard someone behind mention to another that they’re almost home. Lemmon adjusted his clothes and stretched his arms and feet within the encumbered space.

The day was a Wednesday. They had switched buses once and Lemmon felt happy in his heart knowing the long drive was almost at an end. He hated the confined space of the bus and could barely move his feet anymore. He couldn’t wait to get them and get some blood pumping to his foot. Most especially, he couldn’t wait to empty his bowels properly.

Almost everyone broke into cheers when they joined the centipede line of traffic pressing into the Lincoln Tunnel. Minutes later they exited at the other end in New York City. Lemmon gazed at the tall buildings outside his window. He fantasized about the sort of people inhabiting them and pictured those same people right now gazing down from their majestic height, staring at his bus. If only they could sight him.

The bus made two more turns then drove into the underground terminal of the Port Authority complex and pulled to a halt in front of a parking slot. Everyone scrambled to their feet without being told and shuffled down the bus. Lemmon wrapped his scarf around his neck before buttoning his coat. He wore his hat and came down, retrieved his bag then entered the terminal. He headed straight for the men’s room and took care of his business inside before joining the departing crowd that rode the escalator upstairs. He came out to the top and pulled his luggage handle behind as he then walked out of the building into Eight Avenue.

Lemmon gasped as he was immediately assaulted by the bustling spectacle and sound of the city. The picture before him was too frenetic to comprehend at once. Pulling his luggage along, he ambled to a corner away from the row of doors leading into the station and tried to gather his thoughts. People poured in and out of the building, flocking past him, neither bothered glancing his way or noticed his presence like he wasn’t even there. He gradually garnered strength to brave the thronging crowd. His mind went through the checklist he’d made in his notebook; first came the journey, next was finding shelter. Following next would involve getting something to eat; he was famished from the ride.

Lemmon waited in line for a taxi and approached one when his turn came up. He asked the driver if he knew of any cheap hotel accommodation around Harlem district. The driver was dark with an Asiatic feature and appeared puzzled by the question. He gestured at Lemmon to enter the vehicle and understood the question after Lemmon repeated it again. He told Lemmon that he had one in mind and checked his meter to confirm how much the ride would cost. It was Lemmon’s turn to frown when the driver quoted him the price, but figured he didn’t have any choice and nodded his head for the man to continue. The driver eased out of the parking space and drove toward their destination. Lemmon reclined in his seat and tried not to sleep as they breezed through the city. The time on his watch said 3:45 P.M.

He was dozing by the time the cab drew to a stop a half hour later. The driver tapped the divider glass for him to wake up.

“We’re here,” he indicated with his thumb at the building beside him.

Lemmon adjusted his glasses and leaned toward the side window to get a good look at the building. The name on a vertical signboard jutting off the side of the building proclaimed it as Pennyview Hotel, located at the corner of Lenox Avenue, a short walk from Central Park. Lemmon didn’t know if to be impressed by the name or not; he settled his fare before pulling his bag along into the lobby.

The clerk flopped behind the lobby counter with his face hidden behind an open newspaper which lowered down when Lemmon enquired if there were any rooms. The man came alive and folded the newspaper away. Yeah, sure. They had available rooms, depending how long he wanted to stay. Lemmon opted for a week, subject to renewal if he changed his mind to stay longer, and preferred one with a window that had a street view. They conducted their transaction and was given a room key and told how to get there.

Lemmon rode the elevator to the first floor and stepped out into in a wide corridor. He went left and found his door on the next turn. He unlocked the door and gave the room a looking over before shutting the door. The room was decent and just as ordinary. It afforded a typical bed, table and a chair, a lamp beside the bed, and a knock-off Norman Rockwell imitation hanging above the bed. The window beside it looked out into the park. The bathroom was small but appropriate. Nothing too cozy, but it would serve.

Lemmon dropped his hat on the table and tested his weight on the bed. He laid down on it and stared at the ceiling fan and tried to imagine the countless people who’d being in this room, laid on this same bed, and wondered what condition they might have left it before they left. Were any of them still alive? If so, how many of them are out there searching for a daughter the same as he.

Lemmon undressed then unpacked his bag and laid his clothes in the closet. He took out a grip bag containing his toiletries along with his towel into the bathroom. He shaved then took a shower. His stomach growled while he changed into fresh pair of clothes. He went to the table with his daughter’s letters in his hand. By now he knew the words in each letter almost verbatim, but preferred familiarizing himself with his daughter’s words all over, especially now he felt this close to her location. Lemmon started with the second one.

06/12/12

Dear Mom,

Thanks for writing back to me, I never thought you would. I thought you were still upset. I know you and Dad think of me a lot, and I pray you do. I hope though you haven’t yet told him about us talking. I want it to be a surprise for when the time comes.

Randall mentions you so many times it’s hard to keep him to shut up sometimes. He remembers you a lot of keeps asking me when are we coming back home. I know Sheffield hasn’t changed much. I don’t know when I’ll be making the trip over, maybe in the next month or two, as soon as I can get my boss to allow me some free time. The other girls I work with here complain a lot. One of them came gripping to the boss yesterday, saying her old lady twisted her ankle and she’s the one looking after her. The boss gave her three days off to go take care of her. I won’t be surprised once she returns, another is going to come up with some type complain. Maybe pretend a son fell down a stairs. The girls I work with are dumb and lazy and sometimes they talk behind my back about how ‘uppitty and back-woods’ I am.

I’m moving Randall into a new school. It’s about a mile from where I live, and sometimes when I can’t go over to pick him up, I let my friend Shontelle do it for me. Shontelle is like a sister to me. She’s been real helpful even when I never thought she would. I’d be lost if not for her.

Anyway, I just wanted to know how you’re doing, and pray you’re looking after Dad well. I hope to hear from you.

Truly yours,

Gloria.

Lemmon folded the letter and slipped it back into its envelope. Out came the third where she’d written the name of the street where she worked at the Starbucks shop. Location was the corner of East 99thStreet and Lexington Avenue. Before leaving Sheffield, Lemmon had stopped at a book store and bought a map leaflet of New York City. He now unfolded the map on the table and found where he’d already marked out the spot his daughter mentioned. He located the Pennyview hotel on the map and traced the shortest route to where his daughter worked. It was quite a distance, but tracing the route he knew cutting through the park would help. There were the subway locations close by, but he knew nothing about using it. He massaged the ache he was feeling at the back of his neck and looked out the window. There were dark pregnant clouds spreading over the city. His stomach issued another growl, reminding him he had one more item to cross off on his list. Lemmon stowed his daughter’s letters away in his bag and wore his hat before leaving the room.

He found an interracial couple standing in front of the elevator. The black man had his arm around the white woman’s waistline pressing her against him. He was whispering something into her ear that soon got her chuckling on his arm. Lemmon stood like a lamppost two feet from them. The elevator’s doors cranked open and they rode it to the lobby. The couple walked ahead of him and went in the direction of the park while Lemmon walked the other way, searching for someplace to eat.

He walked two blocks before locating a soul-food restaurant not far from the elm train. A Jamaican fellow stood by the sidewalk hawking Reggae cassette tapes and DVDs with reggae music blasting out of a boom box beside his feet. Lemmon went inside and ordered his food. He found a table at a corner with a view of the customers coming and going, a lot of them talking loud and cursing at whomever they were with. The dark clouds outside unleashed their torrent of rain. Lemmon hurried through his meal and thought about waiting for the rain to quiet down a little. Ten minutes went, he got impatient and held onto his hat and ran under it. The sidewalk was slushy as he ran, and the wind kicked at his coat. He was gasping out of breath when he made it to the hotel, glad he was finally out of the downpour.

“It looks another bloody hard rain,” said a voice behind him.

Lemmon was slapping raindrops off his coat as he turned and saw the black woman approach the foyer, glancing at the dark sky from which the rain fell. Her hair was wrapped up in a colorful bundle of scarf above her head. She some wore exotic-looking necklaces around her neck and bangles on both wrists; a handbag was slung over her arm. She had a slender frame beneath her tee shirt and shorts.

“Yeah, most likely,” he answered.

“Damn!” she snapped. “There’s goes my day. Shame I ain’t got an umbrella.”

There was a lounge room adjoining the lobby. Lemmon didn’t think it urgent returning to his room right away, except maybe the temptation of falling asleep. He took off his coat as he entered the lounge and sat down, dropping his coat beside him. Someone had left an unfinished game of Scrabble on the table. A TV set and a video machine stood on a cabinet across the room. The thick coat of dust on the screen made Lemmon doubt either was functioning.

The black woman too entered and sat down across from him. She dropped her handbag on the table and took out a cigarette pack from within. Lemmon declined when she offered him one. She took one to her lips and set fire to it with a gold-plated lighter. She crossed one leg over the other and rolled her lighter in her hand. She smoked her cigarette and shook her head at the sight of the downpour outside the windows.

“Ain’t rained this heavy in a long, long while,” she said.

Lemmon looked at the rain. Thunder crackled outside. It was a dismal sight. He felt his clothes getting warmer.

“My late husband gave me this,” she rolled the lighter in her hand. “About the only gift I got from his worthless ass.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Lemmon offered. It was the only thing he could say.

“Don’t be. A real bastard he was.”

“Is he here with you?” It sounded silly, but the woman sounded like she wanted to talk, and Lemmon couldn’t help asking.

“Nah. He dead,” she said it casually like it was no big deal a thing to her. “Being dead four weeks ago. Heart attack.”

“My condolences.”

She dragged at her cigarette. She reached for an ashtray on the table and flicked the tip of her cigarette into it. “Gaddamn sonofabitch the motherfucker was!” she spat. “You want to know how it happened? You’re gonna laugh if you do.”

Lemmon figured it wouldn’t harm to know. “Please tell me.”

“He died f*****g,” she blurted, then exploded with laughter. “The bastard died f*****g a young w***e when his ass should have been home looking after his kids.”

Lemmon said nothing.

“The bastard had it coming,” she continued. Her voice returned to mellow. “It’s a good he’s dead, or else I’d be the one to kill him after I found out.”

“How did you find out?”

She blew another smoke cloud. “You’re not going to believe it when I tell you. The dumb w***e came finding me where I worked and told me. Don’t that make you want to laugh? Hearing your husband’s dead from the mouth of some thrash he was with when it happened.”

“It is strange,” Lemmon admitted. “She probably didn’t want you feeling angry.”

“A lot of good that did,” she snorted. “Made no difference anyway. The good-for-nothing bastard’s dead and now I’m stuck with three daughters who ain’t got a daddy no more. Left me a pile of bills too, and no damn life insurance. Still think that strange?”

“No,” said Lemmon. “It’s tragic.”

“Damn right it is,” the woman checked herself. “I’m sorry for sounding so bitter. It’s being rough.”

“I can imagine. Too bad none of it is going to bring him back.”

“Don’t I know it. I wish I could though, so I can kill his cheating black ass again.”

Lemmon snickered at the thought of that. “I’d think twice about wanting to come back if I were him.”

“Yeah, he’s lucky not to think of doing that. By the way, I’m Kiara, that’s with a ‘K’.”

“Mine is Lemmon. A pleasure.” He reached across and shook her hand.

“Lemmon, you say. Kinda like the fruit?”

“Yes, just like the fruit, with a double ‘M’ in the middle.”

“That’s a cute name you’ve got. You’re not from around here, are you?”

“I don’t plan on staying too long either, not if I can help it.”

“You ain’t the only one,” she said. “I’m taking my girls away from here to stay with my sister. It’s hard making a living here, especially when you’re a single mom who lost her man like I did.”

“What about your job?”

She waved her hand dismissively. “A shitty thing called a job. I already quit.”

“Where does your sister live?”

“Down in Atlanta. I can’t handle the rent money with my husband gone. Plus, I’ve got a crazy landlord who’d love to just kick my ass out and throw my stuff into the street. I’m not giving that sucker the satisfaction. For now I’m holding up in here.”

“In this hotel?”

“She nodded after another cigarette drag. “I ought not be telling you any of this though. I ain’t usually the sort to trust strangers.”

“You can stop talking if you want.”

“I could, but that ain’t gonna make much of a difference, especially now I’ve done talked too much.”

“If it helps, I’m just a tired old stranger.”

She crushed her cigarette in the ashtray and lit another. The rain’s onslaught continued to hammer the world outside.

“Let’s hear a little about yourself then,” she asked him. “What part of the country are you from?”

“I’m from a town called Sheffield, in the mid-west.”

She shook her head. “Never heard of it.”

“It’s a pretty town. Lots of farmlands. Plenty of quiet, too.”

“Don’t sound like the kind of place I’d want to find myself in. You lived there your whole life?”

“Pretty much, yes. I’ve been to other cities on the west coast, but never for long.”

“So what is it that’s brought you here to the east?”

Lemmon was contemplating whether or not to answer the question when someone entered the room. Kiara looked up behind him and smiled.

“Hi there, baby,” she quickly crushed her cigarette.

The little girl turned to look at Lemmon as she walked past him and came to her mom’s arms. She clutched a baby doll to her chest; her features were curled in a crying pout.

“Mom, Sharri cut my hair!” the little girl complained and started crying. “I told her not to, but she wouldn’t stop.”

Kiara comforted her daughter with a hug. “There, there. Let’s go see what your sister’s up to.”

Kiara got to her feet and so too did Lemmon. They shook hands once again.

“I’m sorry I have to cut you short,” she said. “I’ve got to head up upstairs and attend to some daughter issue. Hope to catch you around later on.”

“I’d like that too, Kiara. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

She lifted her daughter into her arms and together they left the lounge room. Lemmon watched them go, feeling a bit better than he had in the past month. It felt good having such refreshing conversation, especially one that didn’t deal with his problems. Lemmon felt sad her daughter had cut their conversation short and sitting there he wished she’d return immediate so they could continue where they left off. He was back to being alone with nothing on his mind except maybe sit here and play Scrabble with himself. Either that or listen to the pouring rain outside.

He picked up his coat and hat and left for his room.

* * *

The downpour didn’t abate till late in the evening. Lemmon laid in his room the entire time and it wasn’t until he felt the need to get himself dinner that he got dressed once again and braved the rain to head out into the street. He wasn’t that hungry, but need something to satisfy his stomach till morning. On his way back he stopped at a convenience shop and left with two bottled water and a soda. To his luck, he stumbled on a thrift shop along the way and found something inside to keep him company: a transistor radio. A TV set would be more ideal, if only it cost the same as the radio. The shop had some paperback novels on clearance sale. Lemmon rifled through some of them and added two novels to his purchase then raced back to the hotel.

Lemmon set the radio on the table and tuned to a soft-rock music station. He sat in his undershirt and pants on the bed with his back against the headboard and started with one of the novels. The music was comforting compared to nothing but silence.

Almost an hour later, he got tired with his reading and pulled the chair to the window and sat looking down on his section of Lennox Avenue. He drank his soda and watched people scrambling along the sidewalk, wanting to get out of the rain. He had made it, Lemmon congratulated himself. All the planning and counter arguments he’d fought with himself back home, he’d finally made it here. He was a lot closer now to his daughter than before. The anticipation of coming face to face with her after all these years ran stronger in his veins. He could picture her right now in her apartment, attending to Randall. There was definitely going to be plenty of surprise once she saw him. Plenty of hurting too, once he mentions her mom’s passing away. Hopefully she’ll get over it; he’ll help her get over it. Lemmon prayed they won’t get into any arguments when the time comes for them to talk about her returning home. He imagined her right now saying yes to him; it was all he hopped to hear. He thought of Randall and tried to imagine how grown he must be right now. There would be plenty of time for him to get reacquainted with his grandson. It’s too bad Abby wasn’t here to see this moment. In his heart he said a prayer to her and hope she’s still looking down at him with love.

Tomorrow. Everything starts a-new tomorrow. He couldn’t wait for the day to hurry and come.

Lemmon returned the chair to its former place, brought the radio to the bedside table and set the alarm to wake him up at 6:30 A.M. He hung his pants by the closet and switched off the light. He lay in the darkness on his side and waited for sleep to come to him. Sometime past midnight he woke up to empty his bowels. There was a bumping sound coming from his bedroom wall, interspersed with familiar grunts and moaning frenzy of two people making love. The woman’s voice grew louder. She hollered what sounded like her lover’s name frantically as they bumped repeatedly against the wall. Lemmon pressed his pillow over his face and tried to ignore the racket. He fell into a deep sleep long before it was over.