Curby Read online

  CURBY

  ADRIAN DEL VALLE

  Copyright © 2013 Adrian Del Valle

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 1491048247

  ISBN-13: 978-1491048245

  For my grandchildren

  Isabella Damian Brittany Adrian

  CURBY

  CHAPTER ONE Valerie and Tommy

  CHAPTER TWO Birthday candles and space ships

  CHAPTER THREE A child lost

  CHAPTER FOUR The Bronx

  CHAPTER FIVE Family Court

  Other novels by this author

  Diego’s Brooklyn

  In Search of the Sun

  Yesterday in the Cavern’s Dark

  (of fire spirits and men)

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance in this novel to anyone’s character, alive or dead, including those based on real people, or events, or locales, is entirely coincidental and are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and meant only as entertainment.

  CURBY

  CHAPTER ONE

  Valerie and Tommy

  It’s not every day that a newborn baby is stuffed inside a folded up cardboard box and left in the gutter.

  Thirty one year old Nick Santinelli, driver of a behemoth, New York City street sweeper, guided its heavy steel brushes around a corner drain. The sanitation worker prided himself in his skill at being able to keep the tip of the brushes at the exact edge of the curb, even while daydreaming.

  It was that kind of day, today. He could not keep any of the horrible thoughts out of his mind. The diagnosis from the hospital was tragic and unforeseen by both, his girlfriend Sandy and himself. If only the doctors could have been wrong. She had two years to live, possibly three, but no more than that.

  The white Allianz 4000 is a huge beast capable of sucking up an area rug. One California Hwy Department test required that the street sweeper be able to pick up a ton of sand in one minute. The Allianz passed with ease.

  Two hundred and fifty gallons of water filled the street sweeper’s belly. For street waste, the hopper had a capacity to hold 5.6 yards.

  The sprayers out front wet the pavement ahead at the rate of seven gallons a minute as Nick Santinelli straightened the sweeper onto 61st Street. He didn’t have to look at the time. He could tell that from where his position was on the route; 8:50–almost time for the first 15 minute break of the day.

  Eying the cardboard box ahead, he dismissed it as a poor challenge. Only the day before, he read something in the papers about a street sweeper in the Bronx that had sucked up somebody’s dog, still attached to the owner’s leash. Sadly, the owner ran two and half blocks to catch up to the sweeper, only to find his dog dead inside the hopper.

  Nothing like that could ever happen to Nick, he thought. He was far too vigilant.

  What will I do when she’s gone from my life? I told her to stop smoking years ago, and now she’s got terminal cancer. Sandy is the only woman I ever loved. I’ll never find another soul mate like her again.

  Nine months earlier

  “Tommy, I told you already, I don’t want any of that stuff.”

  “Why, you might like it.”

  Valerie, normally submissive by nature, sat at the edge of the couch where she buried her face in her hands. “I hate you!”

  “So hate me. See if I care.”

  Although she covered her face, she couldn’t keep herself from looking through the spread out fingers at her boyfriend struggling to light a meth pipe with shaking hands.

  “How would you know if you never tried it before?” he said.

  “You’re gonna kill yourself someday. You’re crazy!”

  “Nah! Just watch! Ya gotta roll it all around the bowl to let it recrystallize. Keeps the impurities down…or so they say.”

  The boy, just shy of sixteen, inhaled a lung full. “Oh, man…this is the best shit I’ve had in a long time,” he squeaked, snorting the drug through stiffened lips.

  “That crap is gonna kill you. Please, you gotta stop doing that to yourself.”

  Dreamy eyed, Tommy sucked in the last of it, leaned into the sofa and succumbed to euphoria.

  “My mother’s coming home from work soon. You gotta get out of here.”

  “Give me a few minutes.”

  “I’m serious, Tommy. She’ll be home in a little while. I don’t want her to see you like this. She already doesn’t like you.”

  “Come on sweets, we got just enough time for a little…you know.”

  “Not if you keep doing this crazy shit.”

  “Come on over here,” he softly said, unbuttoning his shirt.

  Valerie let him kiss her. He excited her. Except for the drugs, she had always felt that way about him, ever since they met in high school the year before. Back then he was clean and the school jock. All of the girls were after him.

  “Put your shirt back on. You gotta go right now!”

  She stepped loudly to the door and opened it to the hallway.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m goin’. I gotta get more shit, anyway.”

  Relieved, she cleaned up the living room, the ashes, the empty glasses—the evidence.

  The one bedroom flat, at the end of the first floor of a three story brick, could have matched any of thousands of such apartments in the city. The couch, a futon, doubled as a bed for the girl. Her father was long gone. It was anyone’s guess where he was, or where he lay buried.

  Outside, Tommy, desperate for another hit, walked to his friend Billy’s building, an acquaintance from school, and knocked on the door.

  “Hey, Billy…got any stash on you?”

  “Shit, if I did, I’da sucked that blow up a long time ago.”

  “Yeah, I guess so. So let’s get some money?”

  “I’d rather wait until it gets a little darker first.”

  “I can’t wait that long. I’m gonna need a hit really bad soon and I don’t want to wait until things get desperate.”

  Billy gave that some thought. “Okay…sure, if you gotta go right now, then I might as well go with you. I need a few bucks, anyway. I’ll get my knife.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  The chosen target leaned on a walker while carrying a shopping bag out of a supermarket; and far from their neighborhood.

  “Let’s follow that guy. He looks kinda wimpy.”

  Two blocks later, the old gent turned to open the gate to his building.

  Across the street, Tommy stepped between two parked cars, took out the large knife and held it at his side.

  “Come on, you in or not! Stop lagging behind!” He said to Billy, under his breath.

  “Of course I am. You push him inside the gate and I’ll go through his pockets.”

  The elderly man, pushed from behind, dropped to the floor, grunting from the hard fall.

  “How much you got on you, old man?”

  “You son of a bitches! Get the hell outa here or I’ll call the cops!”

  Tommy rammed his fist into the old guy’s face. He was sure he heard a couple of teeth crack. The rest of them were bright red and as he spoke, blood dripped and spit from his mouth.

  “Take what the hell you want and beat it, will ya?”

  “Shut up, old man.”

  “I got it!” his friend said. “Let’s go!”

  “You two belong in jail. You’re nothin’ but a couple o’ losers. Beat it! I’m calling the cops as soon as I get inside.”

  “Oh, yeah? Fuck you!”

  Tommy stuck all seven inches of the blade hard into the old guy’s side, pulled it out and wiped it on the man’s pants.

  Running steps was the last thing the elderly man heard. Moaning, he quietly lowered his head to the cold cement of the walkway and closed his eyes to everything that gradually went black.
r />   Two months later

  Carol Ovington set the corner table with two plates. Tired, she called out to her daughter, Valerie.

  “You comin’!”

  “Wait a sec, Ma, I just want to see what happens.”

  “That’s such a dumb TV show. You’re not gonna miss anything.”

  “Can I at least wait for a commercial?”

  “You know…I’ve been noticing, you’re gaining a lot of weight.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll wait until you come into the kitchen. I’m not yelling.”

  “What?”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, come and eat, already.”

  “Why are you lookin’ at me like that,” her daughter said, pulling her chair away from the table.

  “You must have gained at least ten pounds since the beginning of summer and it shows. You were always so skinny.”

  “So was Dianne. Look at her now.”

  “Well, she probably has something wrong with her, diabetes or something.”

  “She doesn’t have anything wrong with her, Mom. She likes to eat, that’s all. Can I get some ice cream, later? I’ve been dying for some all day.”

  “After you finish eating.”

  “I know!”

  “And after you clean up the dishes.”

  Seven P.M.

  Sitting on the front stoop, Valerie, with a worried look on her face, said to Tommy, “I think I’m pregnant.”

  “Shh! Not so loud. Whaddya mean you think you’re pregnant?”

  “You heard me. I think I’m pregnant. I missed my second period.”

  “Shit! I thought you was on the pill?”

  “I never said I was on anything.”

  “You gotta lose it, then.”

  “What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

  “Come on! Get away from that stoop. Let’s take a walk.”

  “What are you saying, Tommy?” She quickened her steps to catch up.

  “What do you think I’m saying? You have to get rid of it. “

  She stopped walking and stared at him. “You’re not going to marry me?”

  “Marry you? What, are you nuts? Hell no! I never said I was, did I? I ain’t payin’ no child support, neither.”

  “How can you stand there and say that? This is your baby, Tommy. You’re his father. What’s wrong with you?”

  She wiped the flow of tears with the back of her hands.

  “Hey, you know what? Now you can get the hell out of my life, bitch. I don’t want to see you anymore.”

  “No, please, don’t leave me, please?”

  “Then get rid of it.”

  “I don’t know how,” she meekly replied.

  The whole thing was getting Tommy mad. He leaned on a lamp post for a moment to think about what to do. Aside from all of this, he needed another hit—badly.

  “I don’t know either. Just find a way.”

  (sniff)

  (Pause)

  “So, let’s wait and see. Maybe this thing will die on us or something.”

  “Thing? What thing Tommy? You mean our baby?”

  “What the hell else do you think I mean. Yeah, the fuckin’ baby, okay?”

  Seven months later

  Dingy and dirty, the hundred year old building’s basement, unswept for just as long, was cluttered with stained mattresses, box springs, old bicycles and an assortment of unwanted wooden furniture. Dust laid everywhere. Black soot from a leaky vent to the boiler covered everything in the room.

  “God, it hurts really bad, Tommy.”

  “Okay, okay! So lay down.”

  “It’s filthy in here. Look at this cement floor! It’s dirty.”

  “Wait…I’ll be right back.”

  The boy ran upstairs to the first floor hallway. He grabbed the dark red, flowered runner, the seam on one side unraveled with strings separating from it, rolled it up and hastily carried it to the basement. Laying it out next to the noisy boiler, he coaxed Valerie onto it.

  “Help me get my clothes off. Everything hurts,” she said.

  Unbuttoning her blouse, Tommy spread it open to the sides. He undid the belt and pulled her jeans down all the way. Under the blouse, foam padding, used to blend in her upper torso with her pronounced belly, was yanked out and thrown on top of the jeans.

  The fetus was small. Valerie was able to hide the pregnancy from her mother by overeating and wearing loose clothing. It was the style, she had told her.

  Sweat dripped profusely down her face. She grabbed her belly and sucked in deeply. “I can’t take this pain much longer. Ow! Oh my God, I can’t take it. It hurts, Tommy!”

  “I think you’re supposed to push right about now. Try not to yell so much, somebody’s gonna hear your screams.”

  “I don’t care. It hurts. Ow, ooh!”

  Mucous flowed from her nose. She was breathing hard and pushing, but the pain only increased. She felt as though it would never end. Nothing had ever hurt this badly. It had to be at least ten times worse than anything she ever felt at the dentist.

  Tommy took a closer look. “I think I see his head. Holy crap! Damn! Look at that? Push a little harder.”

  “I can’t Tommy, it hurts,” she screamed.

  “Fuck that shit! Come on…hurry up! Let’s get this over with. I gotta go!”

  “I can’t! Oh, God! Ow!”

  “Yes, you can. Keep pushing. That’s it. It’s coming out. Push a little harder!”

  “Ow! Ow!” (Pant! Pant!)

  “Keep going. That’s it. He’s almost out.”

  “Oh, my God!”

  Valerie screamed.

  “Whaa! Whaa!”

  Pale and out of breath, she laid her head on the floor, then immediately snapped it back up and looked angrily at Tommy. “Don’t leave him on the cold floor like that. Pick him up! What’s wrong with you?”

  “What do we do about this shit?” he asked.

  “Whaa! Whaaa!”

  “We have to cut it with something. Find a pair of scissors somewhere.”

  Reaching into his pocket, Tommy pulled out his switchblade, flipped it open and proceeded to cut the umbilical cord.

  The baby continued to cry.

  Valerie spoke softly to him. “Oooo! Okay, baby, don’t cry. Everything is going to be all right. Da-dee take care of boo boo.”

  “Whaa! Whaa! Whaa!

  “Fuck that Daddy shit. We gotta get rid of it.”

  “It’s not an it, Tommy. He’s your son.”

  “Hey, cut the crap. I told you a long time ago, we’re getting rid of it.”

  “Whaaa!”

  “Feed that thing will you?”

  It wasn’t easy to sit up on a hard floor right after child birth and hold your baby for breast feeding.

  Pacing the floor in front of her, Tommy anxiously ran his fingers through his hair while staring at the boiler, loud and bellowing like a mystical beast.

  “We gotta get rid of it.”

  A searing chill ran down Valerie’s spine. She looked at him, staring at the boiler and it horrified her. “No! Hell, no!”

  The boy rubbed the back of his head while pacing the floor. He punched his fist into the palm of his hand and wiped his face.

  “Then we’ll have to leave it somewhere.”

  “Oh, Tommy. Can’t we keep him? You don’t have to marry me. You can get a job. We could get an apartment. Please, Tommy?”

  “Shut up! It’ll never work. Put that thing down and get dressed. I have someplace I need to go right now.”

  “At least let me wash him off, first.”

  “So, use the sink! Nobody’s stopping you!”

  The once, white porcelain utility sink, stained black like a dirty sidewalk and filled from end to end with spider webs, smelled of dumped oil. She brushed it out with her fingers and ran hot and cold water from the tap. She placed the baby under the tested flow, ignoring his cries as she continued to wipe him down.

  Tommy yelled, “Let’s go, already!”
>
  “I’m coming. I need something to dry him off with. Give me your shirt.”

  “I’m not giving you ‘nothin’! Use your own!”

  She gave him a hard look. “Hold him while I take off my blouse.”

  Tommy grimaced. He held the baby away from himself, less some of its after birth should touch his clean shirt. “Hurry up. I can’t wait all day. This thing might pee on me any second, now.”

  This was all so wrong. In tears, Valerie said, “Can you at least get me a box to put him in?”

  “Yeah, okay, I’ll look.”

  “Here, give me the baby.”

  In the back room, amid discarded toys, used tires, water hoses and miscellaneous trash, lay several boxes filled with an assortment of items left from more than a few abandoned apartments over the years. He turned one of the boxes upside down and shook it empty, waved the dust away from his face and rushed back inside.

  “Was that the best you could do? It’s filthy.”

  “So, what do you care? We’re getting rid of him, ain’t we?”

  The tears returned. Valerie kissed the baby on the forehead and tilted her head to the side. “He’s really cute. Look, he’s sleeping. He looks like you. Don’t you think so, Tommy?”

  “I don’t think anything and I don’t give a shit. There’s a dumpster behind the stores. We can leave the box in there.”

  “No…please, Tommy. Why can’t we leave him where someone will find him? You know, maybe give him a new home.”

  “Why? Who cares? Out of sight, out of mind, right?”

  She placed some of the discarded foam along the bottom of the box and lowered the baby inside where he let out a series of coughs. She blew the dust away. “Okay, baby, Mommy’s here.”

  Tommy stared at the two of them with a grimace on his face. He opened the creaking door to the outside and headed up the stone steps with Valerie trailing behind carrying the box.

  A block away, he checked both sides of the street and then jerked his finger downward, silently motioning for her to leave the baby on the sidewalk.

  “It’s so cruel to leave him here. How about on top of that stoop?”