TURIYA LITERARY REVIEW

In March of 1982, James Blake migrated to the USA on a student’s visa. It was the easiest way for him to legally enter the country, and though he had promised his interviewer that he would indeed enroll in a community college, he knew that was not in the near future. 

  Migrating to the US was a dream the twenty two year old thought impossible, unless you had a sponsor or entered the country illegally with the chance of being caught and deported with a bold ‘No Entry.’ Stamped on your passport. That was, until he met a friend who explained that all you needed was someone residing legally in the USA, who had a job, and paid into the system, to send you an invitation letter stating that you would be staying at their address for an indefinite period, as you further your studies.  

     “It’s easy man,” the friend had told him. “The Americans have a program where they are giving student visas to the West Indian community, all you need is that invitation letter and be able to convince the interviewer at the Consulate that you really intend to go to school at least part time.” 

  One year later James arrived at Kennedy Airport, in New York, and was met by George, an old schoolmate and friend from back home, who had been residing in the US for a few years, having been sponsored by his mom.  

     It was George who had sent James his invitation letter and it was at George’s apartment where he stayed for the next four weeks. 

     James quickly found a job in the garment district of Manhattan and saved every penny he could, wanting to rent a room where he had his own space and privacy.  

    George was a good man, and both he and his pregnant wife treated James well, but their one‑bedroom apartment felt cramped, especially since George ran a small outdoor business on the 14th. The street where he sold items of clothing and such, always had bags of merchandise in every corner of the apartment. 

     James felt ill at ease, especially when they watched TV in the evenings, as he slept on their one sofa and was forced to wait until they turned in, before he could settle down for the night. Also, he always felt a pang of guilt when using the bathroom, hearing a knock on the door and someone asking if he would be much longer. But, he was grateful and never failed to let his friend know just how much he appreciated  all that George and his wife were doing for him. 

     James met Marcus on his job, and they quickly became friends. Both men were immigrants, though from different countries, and in a few days they were chatting about family and culture, with Marcus, a jovial man in his mid-thirties reiterating what George had already warned James about.    “Always keep your eyes out for the hustlers and them my brother. The smooth talkers who would try to trick you into handing over your hard earned cash with smart talk of how you can double or triple your money.” 

“Oh, I’ve heard of them,” James responded with a grin. “my buddy George gave me the whole run down.”   

  “And the so-called gold pushers who would show you a shiny gold chain or ring, telling you it’s their prized possession, but their child or wife is sick, and they urgently need money for medicine, then offer the jewelry for half of what they claim it’s worth. Just say you’re not interested and keep on walking. Remember in New York, trust only the people you know well” Marcus had stressed.      

  When James mentioned that he needed to find a room to rent, explaining the situation where he lived and his need for privacy, Marcus’ face at once lit up with a broad smile and clapping James on the shoulder he exclaimed.  

     “Boy you’re the luckiest man I know, you’ve just been here for a short while, yet everything seem to be working in your favor, you have good people looking out for you.., you quickly found a job and here it is you have a nice room waiting for you and at an affordable rate.” 

  Marcus explained that his apartment had two bedrooms and one was vacant since his fiancé’s  sister moved to the Bronx with her boyfriend.  

     “I’ve been trying to sublet the room these last two months, as paying the rent has become a bit of a strain, seeing that my woman only works part time. The one man who came by looked kind of shady and didn’t seem to have a proper job, and I need someone reliable who will pay their rent at the end of each week.” Marcus paused, looking James in the eyes as his smile broadened. “And you, my friend, is just the kind of man I want to have there.” 

     James’ smile matched that of Marcus, as he quickly nodded, reaching out to shake Marcus’ hand. “Like you said my brother, I am a lucky man.”  

     One week later, James moved into Marcus’ apartment on Fulton street and quickly noted that both Marcus and his woman Sandy were drinkers, consuming a six pack each weeknight and much more on the weekends. James was not a drinker and was content to lay in his room and watch the fourteen inch TV he bought, but some Saturday nights with much urging from Marcus and comments like, “Come on  James, don’t be anti-social. We’re all family here.” he started having a beer or two. 

  James had a plan, as he had listened to George describe how he had started his small business three years ago and though he had not mentioned it, the thought of working for himself greatly appealed to James. So, apart from sending money home to help support his parents and two siblings, James saved every penny he could. 

  When he had first started working George told him that he should open a bank account as soon as possible. “Your money is safest in the bank, and having a limited amount of cash on hand will teach you not to overspend on frivolous things.”  

     But owing to the fact that James worked six days each week and left work well after the banks were closed, and now feeling secured in his own room, having wisely insisted on placing an extra lock on his door, James kept putting off using his lunch hour to go to the bank and open a savings account.  

     Now, after having six hundred dollar bills hidden under the carpet in a corner of his room, James decided that another week should not pass without him having a bank account. 

     At lunch with Marcus that Monday, while chatting from one thing to the next, James , being naïve and trusting the honesty of his friend, said offhandedly. “I’ve got to make it my duty and use one lunch break this week to walk down to the bank and open an account. I can’t have so much money laying around.” 

“Yeah, you should.” Said Marcus. “Though I’ve never heard of any burglaries in the three years I’ve lived in that building, but you never can tell.” 

     The following evening after work, when James and Marcus got off the train at their stop, Marcus said, “You carry on James, I’ve got to stop by the store and get me a six pack and some chips.”  

     This was not unusual, and James continued on home.  

     Reaching their apartment, James got out his keys, opened the door and entered. Locking the door, he headed for his room and suddenly stopped, his mouth agape. 

     His room door was slightly ajar, and James caught his breath. “Did I forget to lock my door when leaving home this morning?” was his first thought, then fear stepped in as he noticed the chipped door frame, a sign that the locks were forced.  

     Rushing into the room James quickly glanced around, noting that all of his possessions seemed to be in place, then, he thought of his money, the six hundred dollars hidden under one end of the carpet.   “Please God,” he murmured, rushing to one corner of the room. “Please let it all be there.”  

     But, even as he uttered the prayer he knew he had been robbed, and pulling the carpet way back, his heart sank.  

     James went numb as he knelt in the corner holding his head. “Why, why God?” He shouted, as if expecting an answer, then he slowly got to his feet, breathing deeply several times, forcing himself to be calm.  

     The apartment door was not tampered with, as he had used his keys to open both locks. “So how, how could someone get to his room unless they had keys to the apartment?” And as far as he knew only the three persons living there had keys.  

     “Sandy!” He thought, “It had to be Sandy, but why?” Just at that moment he heard the rattle of keys at the apartment’s door, and he rushed out of his room as Marcus entered the apartment.  

     “Marcus,” James shouted, as a seemingly startled Marcus stopped in his tracks. “Sandy, she robbed me man, your woman broke into my room and stole my money, and she’s got to give it back!” 

     “Now wait a minute James,” Said Marcus, regaining his composure. “what in hell are you talking about?” 

     “Someone broke into my room, using some kind of tool to wrench the locks.” James answered, lowering his voice and forcing himself to be rational. “Only three of us have keys to this apartment and you and I were together on the job all day, so it has to be Sandy. Now I don’t want a problem between us, so, please call and ask her to come here and bring my six hundred dollars.” 

     “This is all messed up James, and even if your room was burglarized you can’t accuse Sandy just like that” Said Marcus as he rested his shopping bag on a table, picked up the house phone and dialed, saying half to himself as he did so. “why would Sandy do something like that?” 

  “It has to be her,” James replied, trying not to shout. “unless someone else has keys to this apartment, and if so, tell me now.”  

     Just then, Marcus said into the phone. “Sandy? This is Marcus hon. You have to come over here right now; this man James is accusing you of breaking into his room and stealing six hundred dollars. So, come on home and let’s straighten this out.” 

     “Are you calling me a liar Marcus? You sound as if you don’t believe one word I said. So, I ask you again, who else has access to this apartment?” James reiterated.  

  “I am not calling you a liar, and as far as I know, no one else has keys to the apartment, though, since the super had given me the keys when I moved in I had not thought of changing the locks but, let’s just wait and hear what Sandy has to say.” James replied, as he reached into the shopping bag for a beer, and without asking, James reached for one also, popping the cork and immediately downing half of the liquid. 

  The two men sat in silence, with James sneaking glances at Marcus now and then, trying not to believe that maybe this was a plan between Marcus and his woman, as he had told no one except Marcus where he hid his money, and of his intention to open a bank account that very week. 

  Keys rattled in the door, which flew open and Sandy, her face masked in anger, stormed in to stand a few feet before James, as she shouted. “What’s this you’re accusing me of James, why would I want to sink so low as to steal the few pennies you claim to have? Me and my man work for every dollar we have, and you know it.” 

  James rose to his feet, his anger now flaring, as he took a step toward Sandy. “Claim to have?” Asked James, now raising his voice. “I’ve been saving every hard earned dollar and both of you know it, so don’t pretend to be innocent. Only we three have access to this apartment. Marcus and I left for work together and returned home together, So, tell me Sandy, who else could have broken into my room?” 

  Marcus sprang between the two, facing James and placing both his hands on the young man’s chest. “Calm down James, this is all a mystery, and you came home before me, so I don’t know what went down here. But, if it’s true you had that much money and someone did break in, then call the police.” 

     “And tell them what?” Blurted James, his anger boiling now. “Do you think for one moment the police would accept that I was foolish enough to hide six hundred dollars under my carpet? And what do you mean by saying that I came home before you. Are you suggesting that I am faking all this, are you calling me a liar?” 

  “I am not calling you anything, I’m just saying that my woman would not break into your room, I just can’t see it.” James responded. 

  “This Man is full of shit,” shouted Sandy, trying to reach over Marcus’ shoulder and stick a finger into James’ face, “he probably staged all this himself.” And as Marcus turned to caution her, James rushed around him and tried to grab the pocketbook hanging from her shoulder. 

  “Let me see what you have here.” James shouted, reaching for the pocketbook. But Sandy held on to the pocketbook as they struggled.  

     Marcus tried to force his way between James and Sandy. “let go of my woman James, she ain’t got shit for you.” He shouted, and as James continued in his effort to wrench the pocketbook from Sandy’s hands, Marcus punched him hard in his side. 

  Letting go of the pocketbook James retaliated. He turned and punched Marcus solidly in the stomach, and as Marcus grabbed onto him and they grappled, Sandy, using her heavy pocketbook as a weapon, seized the opportunity to forcefully hit James several times over the head. 

  James broke free from Marcus’ grip and turned to face Sandy. Losing all sense of control he reached out, grabbing the front of her blouse and slapped her hard.  

     Sandy screamed, dropping the pocketbook and raising both hands to cover her face as she backed away, then as James bent to retrieve the pocketbook he was struck hard across his shoulder from behind.  

     James toppled forward on all fours and as he scrambled to his feet and turned, Marcus, his legs spread wide, had a baseball bat held high as if ready to swing at a fast ball. 

  Furious about his loss and the pain from the blow, James threw all caution to the wind, faking a rush, and as Marcus swung the bat, James threw himself into the man, knocking him over.  

  Grabbing the baseball bat James struck Marcus across the arm, once, twice, then across the knee, feeling the bat on bone each time as Marcus screamed and begged for his life.  

     Turning, James saw Sandy race out of the apartment, screaming for help, as he scooped up the pocketbook and quickly empty its contents onto the table. Among all the usual things most women carried, all James found was three dollars. 

     James rushed to the door as he could still hear a wailing Sandy down the hall and was just in time to see her disappear into someone’s apartment, then turning to a groaning Marcus on the floor he said. “You planned this Marcus, you and that greedy woman of yours, I trusted you as a friend and was foolish enough to tell you of my savings and of my desire to take it to the bank this week, so you planned this together. Well, I may never get my money back, but one thing I know for sure. You will never forget me.”  

  Saying that, James quickly stuffed a few items of his belongings into a bag and exited the apartment, knowing that the cops would be there soon, and knowing that he had done grievous bodily harm to a man. He could not afford to be arrested; he could not afford to be deported. He needed time to think.  

    *** 

     Fighting the urge to run which would attract attention, James walked quickly down the block toward President street, turning left toward Bedford, right toward Union then left again, all the while forcing himself to be calm.  

     He thought of calling his buddy George, but knowing his friend’s respect for the law and his great fear of ever doing anything that would jeopardize his chances of attaining his citizenship, James was positive that George would refuse to take James back into his home, and would without a doubt try to encourage James to turn himself in to the police and hope that with a good state appointed attorney and an understanding Judge he would not be deported. 

  James thought of his parents and the shame they would feel at knowing that their son, given a chance for a better future in the USA, the land that so many of his countrymen could only dream of, was jailed and deported for a crime, regardless of the circumstances.  

     No, turning himself in was definitely out of the question, but where could he go, who could he turn to? 

     Stopping at the corner of Union street and Franklin avenue, James looked left and right, and noting the bold sign that said ‘Franklin Avenue Subway Station’ a short block away, he headed in that direction. At the corner of Franklin Avenue and Eastern Parkway he entered a deli just outside the station where he purchased a bottle of coke and a ham and cheese sandwich, then finding a vacant space on a Parkway bench he sat to eat and plan his next move. 

     Darkness was setting in and James wondered where he would sleep that night. Sitting there on the bench was ok for a couple of hours as the tree lined walkways, bordering both sides of the Parkway, were crowded. But as the night wore on and most residents retreated to their homes, James knew that the police would get busy, stopping and frisking those who choose to loiter.  

     For the next couple of hours James just allowed his mind to wander, reflecting over the last six months since his arrival in the USA.  

     Just a few hours ago he was cheerfully walking along his fictional road to success, building dreams along the way. He had even drawn up a three year plan in which time he was sure he could save enough to start his own small business like his buddy George, maybe on a smaller scale, but if he were lucky to find a spot in the busy 14th. Street mall where George was, his business was bound to prosper. 

  Then, he thought of Marcus and Sandy, and reality stepped in. “How badly was Marcus hurt?” he wondered. He had wielded the baseball bat with force and was sure Marcus had a broken bone or two. “Serves you right you so and so, it will teach you not to cheat a friend,”   

  Rising, James found a bin to dump his trash, then slowly walked down the stairs into the subway to explore the large subway map in the glass stand.  

     There were so many trains to so many places in New York city, but it made no difference to James where he went, he had no friends and knew no one outside of Brooklyn and his instincts told him to put some distance between himself and that hurtful place. So, fishing a token out of his pocket, he went through the turnstile and down the stairs where the sign said Uptown Trains. 

     Boarding the first train that pulled into the station, James took a seat at the end of the carriage next to an elderly woman who smiled at him.  

     Without returning the woman’s smile James turned to stare at a subway map posted behind him. He had clearly heard the conductor say, the number six to Parkchester, and finding the line James ran his figure along the route, noting each stop along the way, then he settled back into his seat, wondering at what stop he should get off. 

     James dozed off and on, with the thoughts of losing his hard earned cash weighing heavy on his mind. Not being worried about time and having no direct destination, he was unaware that he was mumbling to himself, until the elderly woman startled him by saying.  

     “That’s life son, you win some, you lose some,” and as he turned to look at her, she gave him a toothless grin and continued. “The thing is, you don’t allow it to defeat you.”  

  “What?” Asked James, a bit confused as to what the woman was talking about. 

     “Life son!” The woman said, offering another toothless chuckle. “I’ve seen it all, and it hasn’t defeated me. You’re a young man; don’t let it defeat you.”  

     James closed his eyes once more, but the woman’s voice, like a recording, playing over and over again, stayed in his mind. “Don’t let life defeat you son…Don’t let life de….” 

     James did not know where he was headed, or what fate had in store for him. But, he refused to allow the Marcus’ and Sandy’s and their kind to end his dream.  

  “I will find a solution to this problem, and I will start anew. But whatever life offers, I refuse to let it defeat me!” 

     Hearing the voice of the woman beside him and seeing her toothless grin in his mind’s eye, James, with his eyes still closed, offered a smile of his own. 

***