Dave Zeltserman - Small crimes

'Godammit!' I had the money Dan had given me in my pants pocket, the bills rolled up and held in place with an elastic band. I slipped a hundred dollar bill from it, wrapped the bills back up with the band, and tossed the roll to Elaine. 'That's over six thousand dollars,' I told her. 'Use it for our daughters.'

Her eyes narrowed as she stared at me. 'How'd you get this money, Joe?'

"What difference does it make?'

'Some things never change, do they?' She dropped the roll of bills onto the floor. 'I'm not touching your dirty money.'

'Jesus Christ, Elaine, don't be so fucking dramatic. I'll just mail it to you, then.'

'You do and I'll burn it.'

She walked out of the coffee shop. I sat frozen as I stared at the roll of bills that she had dropped. Other people in the coffee shop were doing the same. A heavyset man with long greasy hair got up and started to bend down to pick up the money. I told him if he touched it, I'd bust his head.

'Hey, it don't bother me how dirty it is,' he said, still reaching for the roll. 'If you guys don't want it…'

I repeated myself about busting his head. He backed away and sat back down.

I got up and picked up the money. Then I settled the bill and headed back to Bradley.

On my drive back to Bradley, I thought about Elaine and knew I shouldn't have expected anything different from her. She had closed herself off to me a long time ago – as she had every reason in the world to. I had abandoned my family when I'd drifted into cocaine and gambling, and maybe even before that. Most evenings I was out of the house until past midnight and most mornings I snuck out without saying a word to anyone. I guess I was hiding from them. I felt dirty and had gotten paranoid that my little girls would see how dirty I had become. I couldn't deal with that, so I hid from them.

Melissa and Courtney were six and four when I was arrested. Now they were fourteen and twelve and I had almost no memories of them. I couldn't even imagine what they looked like now – I could barely even remember what they looked like back then. Just about the only good memories I had were of Courtney's first birthday.

I had no chance of ever reconciling with Elaine. Thinking otherwise was a pipe dream, and thinking that I could get back into my girls' lives was an even bigger pipe dream. Elaine was right. I blew whatever chance I had with my girls and in no way did I deserve another, not after all the things I'd done. Not with all the baggage and bodies and damage dragging behind me.

Melissa and Courtney didn't deserve that. I guess at some level I had known that for a long time.

It was funny, but my reason for driving up was to give Elaine the six grand and to talk her into letting my parents see my kids. I screwed up on both fronts. Seeing her, I just started kidding myself, and then once she just started pushing my buttons, I guess I had to start pushing hers also. That was the thing with the two of us, we knew how to push each other's buttons.

Elaine and I had known each other since we were in grade school; she was my first and only girlfriend and we were married at nineteen, and now we were nothing more than strangers. It made me sick inside to realize how tightly her heart had closed to me. I hadn't seen her for almost eight years, but as soon as I did I realized I still had feelings for her. I knew how tough things had to have been making it on her own these past eight years. She had no other family, no one but the girls. An older brother had died in Vietnam and her dad never quite got over that and died of either a broken heart or a heart attack (take your pick) when she was in high school. Her mom got sick after that and lingered long enough to see us get married. She had some uncles and aunts in other states, but I knew she wasn't close to any of them. I wish she had stayed close to my parents, but I wasn't going to cause her any more grief, especially after everything I'd put her through.

When she started walking out of the coffee shop I realized how I needed to give my life meaning. I know this will sound corny, but it became so clear to me – I had to live in a way that Melissa and Courtney could be proud of. Also, just as importantly, I needed to support my girls and Elaine. Whatever I could do financially I was going to do. I made up my mind then. I would throw away the pension papers. Whatever money I was going to make, I would make honestly. And I would send Elaine and my girls whatever I could. In my heart I made a promise to my girls that that was what I was going to do.

I still badly wanted to see Melissa and Courtney; even if it was only for five minutes. If for no other reason than so I could tell them how sorry I was. How they deserved so much better. But again, what good would it do them? Probably just screw them up.

Fuck it.

It was three in the afternoon by the time I arrived at Bradley Memorial Hospital. I checked at the front desk and got Manny's room number. He had a private room and I could see him – or at least what had to have been him – lying on a bed. Manny used to be a thick, heavy man with skin like hard rubber. What was lying on that bed was a third of what Manny had once been. It was almost like a balloon that had been mostly deflated. And that thick rug of black hair he had was gone. But it was his eyes that got me. They weren't the same hard ruthless eyes that I used to know. Instead they were the eyes of a scared and frightened man. I was about to walk in when I heard Phil's voice coming from a corner. I froze for a moment and then peeked in and saw Phil sitting off to the side of Manny. He was reading Manny the Bible, his voice droning softly over the hum of medical equipment. And Manny was giving him full attention, his eyes wide open and scared to death. Neither of them saw me and I moved quickly away from the doorway. My heart was beating like a rabbit's.

A nurse was about to enter the room. I stopped her.

'I was hoping you could help me out,' I said, my voice barely above a whisper. 'I need to talk privately with Manny. We're old friends but it's personal business and it's important. Could you find me in the cafeteria when he's alone?'

She looked like she wanted to bolt and could barely look me in the eye, but she nodded and muttered 'okay'.

I was in a daze as I made my way to the hospital cafeteria. I couldn't believe what I saw in there – that image of Manny listening attentively to the Bible, his eyes wide open and brimming with fear. Jesus Christ! That wasn't the Manny I knew. The Manny I knew would've been flipping Phil the bird and pulling out his catheter to piss on him if he could reach that far. I understood why Dan was so damned worried about him spilling his guts.

The Manny I used to know was the most ruthless sonofabitch I'd ever met. He had moved to Vermont from the Bronx when he was in his early twenties and he was like a piranha in a tank full of guppies. At the time I was arrested, he had his hands in every crooked, amoral business that went on in Vermont. Drugs, gambling, prostitution, loan sharking, extortion – you name it, Manny had his fat hands in it. And he had no problem taking care of the dirty part of the business himself. I don't think he enjoyed it – he wasn't a crazy sicko like his son – but he had no problem with it.

One time a big shot from New York tried to muscle in on Manny and open up escort services around a few of the ski resorts. This guy, I think his name was Wally Sneck, or something like that, made the mistake of showing up in Vermont to check out one of his businesses. Manny got wind of it, had me show up and put cuffs on Sneck, and drag him to the basement of one of Manny's clubs. I thought Manny was going to just scare him, but hell no. Manny ended up giving him a couple of hard kicks to the mouth. He checked to see whether there were any front teeth left, saw that there were, and kicked him a couple of more times until they were knocked out. I don't think he enjoyed it, but I know it didn't bother him either. It was simply business. In any case, Sneck sold his escort services that night to Manny for a buck.