Jane Stalks Dick
Jane Stalks Dick by Geoffrey Zimmerman from JointVentureLightning on Vimeo.
By Geoffrey Zimmerman
New York City seemed like a nice place to retreat from life for a while. Dick Lewinski had recently been haunted by thoughts of his (escaped convict) ex-wife, Jane, and believed that getting out of his little brand new rancher would be better than what the doctor ordered- and that was plenty of Thorazine, bed rest and two weeks off from work. Work had never been a problem, seeing as Dick’s only requirement at work had been to calculate delivery schedules; pick up and drop off times.
And, little Timmy was wide-eyed and happy with the change of scenery, even though the hookers on Broadway had been a little pushy and Dick had had to pay one fifty bucks to shove off and retreat into her doorway.
Dick had no real itinerary when he and little Timmy arrived. They just checked into the hotel, tossed their overnights on the beds and headed down to the small café in the lobby. As the two snacked, Timmy looked up to his father and with deep sincerity asked,
“Daddy, does mommy really want to slice you up?” This caused Dick to set down his smoked turkey with Swiss on rye, push back his chair, bring a napkin to his lips and look off.
“Oh, Timmy…” Dick responded, thinking. He knew he had to choose his words carefully. He didn’t want to traumatize the boy.
“It’s not so much that she wants to slice me up…” He took another bite of his sandwich to give himself time to think. He ruffled his fingers together, getting rid of the crumbs.
“She just…lost her mind a little…and is angry at everything.” Dick brought a hand to Timmy’s head and mussed his hair. When Timmy reached up, Dick smiled, nodded to Timmy’s chicken bits and told him to keep eating. Dick looked over his shoulder – across the two gay fellas sitting at the window seat, holding hands, and out the window. He thought he saw a female figure standing on the sidewalk a hundred feet away. But when a noisy bus passed and the figure was gone, Dick attributed it to an overactive imagination. He looked down at his son.
“What’s say we see the Empire State Building. Won’t that be neat?…”Timmy blankly nodded and Dick picked up the greasy piece of paper that was his check, and hopped off his stool.
The bus ride downtown could have been more…civilized. No seats were available on the lurching machine, so Dick and Timmy had to stand, grasping slimy silvery metal poles, and at one point, Timmy, eyes opened wide, looked up to his dad, and with a mixture of fear and pleasure, leaned in and said,
“Dad, that lady touched my…thing”. Dick looked over, and realized it wasn’t a “real” lady. He kept an eye on the “lady”, leaned down to Timmy, and brought his mouth to his son’s ear, and in a whisper said,
“Just stay close, son. We’ll be there soon.”
And then he smelled it. It stood him up. A throb began in his temple, and he looked to the window to hide his terror. His hands curled and clenched atop Timmy’s shoulders.
“Oh, fuck,” he said to the window, across the fat Italian lady’s shopping bags.
“No, not again,” he whispered to himself. His heart thrummed and he nearly retched with fear. He quickly glanced across the other passengers on the bus and had to look down and condense all his attention on Timmy’s cowlick to keep from leaping out the window.
“Diiick…” he thought he heard, and nearly fell as the bus lurched to a stop and he looked out the bus’s window to see the Empire State Building. He puffed a breath of relief.
A small band of about ten passengers deboarded the bus, but as Dick and little Timmy hit the sidewalk and moved to step across the street, a burly policeman held out his arm and told Dick, “Hey mista’, keep it back… parade’s coming.” Just what he needed today.
A small gay parade had begun, and the way to the empire state building was temporarily blocked.
“What’s this?” Timmy asked. “Why are all these people holding flags?” Dick’s head spun and he looked to the heavens for guidance, but only saw a bright rainbow-colored flag, thrust from a third-story window, with some butchy-looking gal holding her fist out and screaming.
“My God,” Dick said to himself, and held Timmy close as a small marching band of scantily-clad, shiny muscular men marched by, prancing back and forth across the street.
And then he smelled it…again. The unmistakable odor of orange blossom. Jane’s perfume. He held Timmy to him as the young boy’s mouth dropped and he ogled the topless, body-painted women who high-kicked and whirled in circles just feet from him. Dick turned and looked down the sidewalk for the source of the smell, but saw only Japanese tourists, smiling broadly, raising Nikons, nodding to each other and snapping photos.
And then he looked across the street. Across the shaved heads of the beefy, busty, lilting dykes, and saw Jane, clad in a knee-length trench coat…watching him. It was only a hundred feet, but he was certain it was her.
And then the small procession stopped. The last of the nut jobs had twirled and vaulted by, and the cop who stood watch at Dick’s side brought his walkie-talkie to his ear, glanced up the sidewalk, turned to the onlookers, and nodded an all clear.
Dick looked from the cop to the far sidewalk and saw only a throng of people.
“Here we go,” he said as he and Timmy crossed the street and pulled open the enormous ten-foot high metal door to the Empire State Building.
Inside, a mob of tourists coalesced into a shuffling mass. Seven guards waved hands and gently pushed people through to enter a sinuous corral of black upright metal barriers. Like lining up to be strapped into the “flight of death” at a local amusement park, the mob gradually became a series of winding lines, where all people began to softly to talk each other about what would come next.
Dick and Timmie banged off people until they were finally led into a thin stream, and found themselves back to front with other folks walking up a gently sloping deck, hands on rails, shuffling toward the elevator to the top.
Temporarily moved by the energy of the crowd, Dick leaned in and whispered to Timmy.
“This is gonna’ be great,” he said.
The ride up was cool. It wasn’t just one elevator ride straight to the pinnacle, but a three- step process. Floor 1 through 62 – exit and get on the elevator from floor 62 through 91. You could linger at floor 91, take in some high view sights and buy neat, “I’ve been there”, empire State Building stuff like shaky plastic balls that make the snow fall around the skyscraper, gifts – lots and lots of post cards, and stuff that looked like the building made out of copper, jade, brass, quartz, hemp and even drinking straws. Dick and Timmie stopped and looked at the souvenirs for a few minutes, then left the European tourists behind and got in line for the ride up to the top.
Dick realized that he hadn’t looked over his shoulder for quite a while and he was beginning to believe the visions and smells he had were just some strange effects of half-bad old turkey. He and Timmie were just beginning to relax.
And then came the push. The last flight. The ride to the top. Dick held out an arm, gathered Timmy to him and the two headed from the souvenir shop. They melded with the small crowd that had formed around the two elevators that would bring them to the heights. Dick actually puffed out a breath of relief, absently picked his nose and looked around as they waited for the tall silver doors to open.
The doors opened and Dick and Timmy shuffled into the enormous elevator with the crowd. The bright, shiny doors rolled shut and Dick and Timmy were on their way to the top. Dick looked around and nodded politely to some of the other folks aboard – who grinned broadly. He was actually excited – and looked forward to the view. But then as the elevator rumbled upward, Dick began to feel faint. He felt nervous. He felt scared – for the weird scent of Eau De Orange Blossom again gently wafted across his quivering nostrils.
And then came the thud. The shudder – the whack of metal against metal – that told Dick they were stuck.
Oh, fuck! Dick said inside his head and turned to witness a wide-eyed lady of fifty looking at him. She then threw her gaze to the sky, reached both hands to her chest and grabbed her enormous boobs and squeezed.
“It’s the end,” she said to no one in particular.
Timmy tightened his grasp on his old man, looked up and saw Dick riveted on the old lady.
Dick’s eyed began to burn. The scent of orange blossom, the bouncing elevator – and the distraught women beside him – all blasted him like a brick on the head.
Heightened murmurs rolled through the enormous elevator as folks turned to each other, raised eyebrows and shrugged shoulders.
“What the…”
“Must be a…”
Isn’t there a…”
“Should have known…”
And then from somewhere near the elevator, a low-pitched electrical sound began, and rose to a roar, like an angry bull getting it from behind. The elevator’s lights flickered for a few seconds and then with a pop all was dark. Pitch dark. Black dark. Can’t see your hand in front of your face dark.
Dick’s legs went nearly limp, but his torso and arms drew tight.
“Daaaaad…” Timmy said to his pop.
“Shhhh…., it’s OK,” Dick tilted hid head and lied to his son somewhere down there in the blackness.
“Hey. Watch your hand, mister!”
“I didn’t mean it. I was just reaching for my phone…”
After a few seconds, someone inside the mass flicked a bic, and the dim orange blob of light illuminated the surprised faces with a wavering sepia wash.
Up into his nose snaked the unmistakable scent of orange blossom perfume. Dick shuffled around a bit, and tilted his head, using the glow of a cheap flickering lighter to help him locate the source of the smell.
Then all was black again, and with it came the afterglow of orange geometric shapes on the retinas.
“Fuck…. That stupid thing burned the shit out of my thumb,” said the man who had held the lighter.
Dick heard some shuffling and moving aside of bodies behind him. He felt a hand lay delicately across his shoulder, and the pressure of five fingers squeeze. He felt hot air on his ear and thought he would cry from the orange blossom scent.
“Hi, Dick,” came the whisper.
