Here's hoping inspiration remains and perhaps we can continue to examine the view outside our windows (together).
Ten Cents
“I caught my first wife cheating on me,” Charlie said from his position leaning against the doorway. “She was doing the mechanic. Every Saturday. She’d take the car in to be fixed, and there was always something wrong with it.”
A graying man in his sixties, the years of manual labour were evident in his face, if not his voice. The cheer in his tone was a stark contrast to the topic and the setting. Blood-stained carpets lay at his feet, and a broken window creates shattered shadows throughout the small hotel room. It’s not a typical day on the job.
“I got a friend who fixes cars – he had a look at it one day. Weren’t nothing wrong with it. So the next week I asked her if she was gon’ go get it looked at and said I wanted to go with her. She said that there was nothing wrong with it – she wasn’t gonna be going, but I followed her anyway. Saw her there with the mechanic, kissing on him, and I snapped a picture.”
The smile on his face was so broad you couldn’t miss the sense of accomplishment Charlie felt; twenty years ago that feat of investigative prowess may have been more significant than it would now.
“I went and got that picture developed. Blew it up as big as I could that afternoon, and hung it on the wall. When she got home, I showed it to her. My bags were packed, and all I had to do was leave. She said she wasn’t cheating, but there was no question; I told her she didn’t have to sneak around – he coulda had her for ten cents.”
The laugh that escapes him is contagious, encouraging me to laugh with him in spite of the sad story he just told. Laughing seems inappropriate, in light of what just happened here.
At the time of the assault, I was fast asleep, though the screams of ‘no, please… stop’ woke me. At first I thought it was a dream, but as consciousness took over I realized that it was real. Rolling over, I heard the thudding in the hall. 9:15 AM. Too early for reasonable people to be making that much noise. A disobedient child? A family fight? For a moment I wanted to go out and see what was happening, but I resisted, so overwhelmed by exhaustion that I nestled back into my bed content to be buried amongst my pillows.
When I woke again, I peered out the window only to see the front of the hotel taped off with conspicuous yellow ribbon and police cars barricading the front. It was obvious that something more than a family dispute had occurred.
Walking down the hallway – to the same spot where I would stand speaking with Charlie days later – there was a policeman who insisted I turn around. The room was a crime scene. The blood spatter on the floor, walls, and ornate gold doors of the elevator across the hall only further punctuates the fact. Wordlessly I turned back around and returned to my room.
“You know, in 18 years this is the first time something like this has happened – and it was over so fast, but they sure made a big mess.” He pointed to the shattered window barely covered with plastic wrap.
“The carpet is being replaced tomorrow, and they gotta buy a new bed for in here; the wallpaper will have to come down too. I couldn’t get all the blood off of it.” I marvel at this man who somehow manages to break down the chaos of the situation to the ramifications of a broken relationship.
“I still don’t know how he caught her – the room was in her name… Her boyfriend – the guy she was cheating with – ran when the husband came. A real skinny thing. It’s one thing if he stays and fights for her, but all that trouble for a skinny little thing who runs? He didn’t even stay and fight for her…”
Shaking his head, Charlie ponders the situation a moment. “I don’t know who had the knife, but next thing you know, I guess they were chasing each other all through the building – went all the way up to the sixth floor, ran back down. There was blood everywhere… I guess the husband grabbed a housekeeper at one point, pinned him against the elevator and was gonna stab him. I don’t know how he managed to get away, but he said he fought back hard…” I gasp at the thought of this; for one fleeting moment, however brief, I consider what could have happened had I left my room. Clearly being a bystander wouldn’t be enough to keep me safe.
“They found drugs in the room too – some marijuana… I don’t know what kind of marijuana that was, but when I was young it made me want to dance. And eat. Dance and eat, it made me real energetic-like. Definitely didn’t make me wanna go out and kill someone.”
The idea of Charlie, forty years younger with a joint in his hand makes me smile. He would have been the life of the party, without a doubt. I bet he had a great time back then. I bet life was a lot easier on him then.
“They say he lived. I don’t know. For all that blood, how anyone could have lived, I don’t know, but they say he did.”
As an outsider, his observations contribute pieces of the puzzle I didn’t realize I was missing. “It’s a shame – there’s a lot of work to be done. It’s not like they got me any help either,” he said, for the first time his words sounding like a complaint. “They’re redoing this whole room. It’s almost all over. But I tell ya this, if someone ever cheats on you, don’t be like them. Don’t be like that… Ten cents. A lowlife like that ain’t barely worth the ten cents.”
