Victor Lavalle - The Devil in Silver

They laughed and the mood seemed to lighten.

Then Dorry said, “I want you to understand where you’ve found yourself, big boy. In here we’re the buffalo. And New Hyde is the cliff.”

Pepper wasn’t any goddamn buffalo, or bison, or whatever. He was a man and he’d be leaving soon after he made his phone call. Of course, Pepper couldn’t say those things to Dorry. Instead he spent forty-five minutes finishing his apple while she calmly watched him, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.

“We’ll have to go back to the nurses’ station if you want to make that phone call,” she said. “You remember where it is?”

How could Pepper be expected to forget? What kind of dimwits was Dorry used to dealing with? But then Pepper remembered he’d been unable to walk half an hour ago, so maybe he shouldn’t be too smug.

“Down that hall.” Pepper gestured with his head.

Dorry grabbed the cereal box off his tray and held it up. She raised her eyebrows and Pepper consented to let her take it. Dorry marched over to the gaggle of patients by the television. She skirted around one table, closer to the windows, and stopped beside an old black woman wearing a purple pantsuit and matching little church hat. Dorry leaned close and spoke into the woman’s ear, then set the cereal box in her lap.

Pepper and Dorry turned their walk back to the nurses’ station into a funny kind of race. Dorry held on to the wooden railing running along the right wall, and Pepper held on to the one on the left. They used the railings for balance, and to drag themselves forward. Eating breakfast had spiked Pepper’s blood sugar enough to put a dent in his paralysis, but he still needed a little help. And Dorry did, too. Clinging to their respective rails, they lumbered in harmony.

When they reached the nurses’ station again, the same tops of the same four heads were still bent over the same paperwork. The staff members hadn’t shifted. Just as Dorry and Pepper reached the oval room, a phone rang behind the nurses’ station and one of the staff, a woman, picked up.

“Northwest,” she answered, as if this was her name. She listened for a moment. “The doctor is not on the unit just now. Let me put you through to his voice mail. All right?” She asked without waiting for a reply. A faint click could be heard as the nurse pressed the transfer button. Then a clunk as the plastic phone went back into its cradle. The woman went back to paperwork. At New Hyde the term for this was charting .

Pepper found he could best move through the room if he focused on its discrete little details. If he spent too much time planning his phone call to Mari, everything he needed to explain and to ask of her, then he got tripped up. Stick to the basic motor functions, Pepper! Footsteps, and hands held tight to the railing, and keeping pace with Dorry as she led him forward.

But then he lost himself by counting hallways. They’d just left Northwest 5 and as they veered to the left, making a circuit around the nurses’ station, holding to the curved railing, they reached Northwest 1. As they crossed the mouth of that hallway, Pepper turned and recognized the secure door. Miss Chris stood in the open doorway. A delivery man held a white bag, food from a place nearby called Sal’s. Miss Chris counted out her money. Pepper couldn’t even consider escaping just then, he could barely stay upright. Then they passed Northwest 1 and Pepper clung to the railing again. Up ahead was Northwest 2, the men’s hallway, where his room lay. He looked over and saw Northwest 3, the women’s. There he saw a pair of middle-aged women walking together, dressed nearly identically, and laughing over some impossibly funny joke. Really happy, at least in that moment. Were they patients? How could they be smiling if they were in here? He couldn’t stop watching the women as he moved.

And that’s how he bumped right into Dorry, nearly knocking her over. But he caught himself and her. The wooden railing groaned as the two of them held to it.

“Sorry,” Pepper said.

Dorry said, “My son was the same way. Never looked where he was going.”

Two of the staff members at the nurses’ station rose from their seats, just high enough to peek over the desktop at Dorry and Pepper. One of them was Scotch Tape, who recognized Pepper from last night and didn’t feel like being bothered this early. No one being hurt, no one attempting to escape, no one refusing treatment. As far as the staff’s checklist went, there were no problems then. He returned to his charting.

Dorry and Pepper had stopped midway on the wheel, between Northwest 2 and Northwest 3. Between the two halls there was a little alcove.

“Pay phones,” Dorry said.

“I can make as many calls as I want?” Pepper asked. Surprised that prisoners were limited to just one, but mental patients had unlimited access.

“As long as you’ve got the money,” she said.

He had the change right in the pocket of the slacks he’d slept in. Pepper reached into the pocket and pulled out the coins. Only then did he realize the act of balance he’d just achieved. A minor feat for anyone over two years old, agreed, but you’d be surprised how that medication makes you feel like a wobbly infant. It had been two hours since he’d swallowed the meds and he still didn’t feel clearheaded, but maybe they had lost their worst effects.

The change in his palm looked like shiny communion wafers.

The alcove wasn’t terribly big. There were two pay phones. Both were in use. By the same guy.

Pepper’s roommate.

Mr. Malt Ball held one receiver to his right ear. The other was balanced on his left shoulder. He looked like an old-time receptionist, putting through calls. He didn’t notice Pepper, even in that cramped space. This guy had admirable powers of concentration. Either that or he was just ignoring the big man.

The roommate spoke into the phone by his right ear. “Yes, I will hold.”

Then he set that phone onto his right shoulder and lifted the other one to his left ear and said, “Hello? Hello? Come on!” But he’d already been put on hold on that phone, too.

Dorry peeked in. She said, “That’s Coffee.”

At least Pepper had a name for his enemy.

“I should warn you,” she said. “I wouldn’t go around flashing my change like that.” She pointed at Pepper’s open hand and he closed his fingers. “Coffee’s going to ask for money if he sees that.”

“He already did. He’s my roommate.”

Dorry winced like someone who’s just touched an open flame. “For the first time since we’ve met, I actually feel sorry for you.”

Dorry meant this as a joke, but why did it make Pepper flinch?

He walked right up to the still oblivious Coffee, who had returned to the phone at his right ear. His eyes were tilted upward as he listened to the hold message play for the fifth time in a row. That’s why he didn’t understand what was happening when Pepper snatched the other receiver out of his left hand to hang up the line.

“ I’m using this phone now,” Pepper said.

Pepper stood half a foot taller than Coffee but, more important, Pepper outweighed Coffee by at least eighty pounds. And Pepper’s face, with its high, flared nostrils and bared teeth, looked about as pleasant as an etching of a Chinese demon. The sensible reaction for Coffee would have been to make peace. Or even to get his ass out of the alcove. But let’s say this for Coffee: the man was out of his mind.

Coffee squared right up to Pepper, chest to belly.

Then he spat in Pepper’s face.

The saliva struck the big man’s chin, slid down, and hung there like a chrysalis for a full three seconds before Pepper hit the man.