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6. The Upstairs Visitor.

I look at the door, black skid where, I think, her tire hit it. Beer signs in the little high windows. Think 'Angus burger. Tomato soup'. Caryanne's mouth.
Damn it! Some fool's turned on my right turn signal. I'm going around the block to come back and park. Damned fool!

Hey! Is... is that Caryanne? Bicycle going down the sidewalk toward... yeah... turning in the alley. Big assed backpack. As I come up to the alley I check the rearview, nobody behind me, slow, and look... and... Yeah. I'm beginning to recognize her... from behind, what I can see, legs and... beneath the backpack. I don't go in the alley, drive on by, down to the corner. Have to wait on traffic, cuss 'em a little for being in my way. I run my Dad's dialogue; 'Where in the hell are they all goin'? Everybody and his uncle!' I pull out, zip down the block, catch the red light again. I turn, cruise slowly, look up the alley, back toward the other end. No traffic behind me, slow, look up the alley. What... the hell?

I can see Caryanne, that big-assed backpack, climbing the fire escape!

That ladder is pulled down, counter-weighted, and, she's climbing up. I come to a complete stop in the parking lane, where I can see straight down the wall. She gets to the point where there's a... there... are... like hoops around the ladder, and... oh! The backpack's... I thought it was falling, but she's... got it, slings it around and... puts it... up through the hoops. She climbs, one step at a time, pushing the backpack up, sets it there, steps off onto the grid. She... she's... controlling the ladder as it comes back up. She's facing the door up there, disappears into it. She's back out, snatches the backpack in. She comes out, doing something at the railing, I... It... looks like... she's tying a rope to the railing, drops it to dangle, a green rope. She pushes the ladder back down, steps on it. She's coming down.

I should pull up so she doesn't see the truck. I do it. Jump out, go to the edge of the alley. I'm trying not to look weird to people driving by. No one is walking by. I'm like... peeping around the corner, not close to the building there, just stand on the sidewalk where I can bend just a little and peep down the alley. She's tying the rope... to her bicycle, pulling the ladder back down. Climbing up. She's on the... the grid... the... landing, leaning over the rail, pulling the rope. The bike's front wheel comes off the ground. The bike falls sideways, stands on its back wheel, and swings a bit, steadily rising. She's strong as hell! Old Albert's ass took a pounding. Shoulda checked those biceps before he messed with Carryin' On Caryanne. She coordinates the spin of the bike to bring it up to the rail, takes hold of the front wheel, right hand, hoists it with both hands, up and onto the grid. She stops, leans on the rail with both hands. That was probably a workout! I lean back a bit, take a deep breath myself. I peep again in time to see the back end of the bike... and... the back end of Cary, disappearing into the building.

What the hell? I go to my truck, get in, watch traffic, pull out, and damned if I don't just park out front and walk on up to the Broken Places Cafe & Grille. Lots of empty buildings here. Looks like someone's working on one of them, a big double like the Broken Places building. "Coming Soon" sign; "Mouths of Babes Boutique". I kinda laugh, but like that someone's optimistic enough to invest in something.

Yep! I see some tire tread marks in that black skid on the white door of Broken Places. I open it. Two young girls are playing chess. Andrea's standing looking over the bar at them, looks at me, stands up. To keep from saying anything before I can process, for my own comprehension, what I've just witnessed out back, I say,

"Angus burger! Everything! Tomato soup! Black coffee!" I don't drink coffee! Damn it!

She grins, points at me, nods, turns and goes to the kitchen. The girls don't look up. I walk to the end of the bar, start to sit, walk on out to the back door. Open it. I don't go out. I look up from my vantage point inside, see the outer edge of the fire escape, wonder. I let it close. I come back and sit at the first stool, back end of the bar, stand up and lean to look into the kitchen. Andrea's moving fast, like she's full of energy.

The front door opens, two women and a man. They point to the first booth, go there, sit, both women on one side, him on the other. Andrea comes out, grins at me. That's the happiest I've ever seen her. She's as pretty as her daughter when she smiles. She goes to the trio. They talk, sounds like they know her, know the place. I see in the mirror the light come on over the booth. She's coming back.

"Angus burgers all around!" she says. She goes in the kitchen. I can hear her singing something. She stops singing and whistles! LOL She's... by God happy! LOL

I'm looking at the potato chip rack, wondering what to tell... or not tell... about... her upstairs visitor.

Front door opens. More people, four, go to a booth. Andrea's at 'em, orders, back to the kitchen. She tells them to turn on the lamp over the booth. They do. She comes back into the kitchen. I get up, go turn on lamps over the other three booths in the back. I don't want to go by the customers up front to turn on the one over the second booth.

My burger's ready, served. Andrea's looking at the booths, maybe at the lit lamps, grins at me. No tomato soup. That's okay. Front door. More people. Damn! This place gets busy. Front door. A guy. He sits at the bar. Andrea serves him a beer and I hear him order an Angus burger. It's a hit! More people. I smell a fishtail! I look around. Booths are full. Lamps on, lots of noisy talk. It's booming in here! Door opens, two people sit at a table about in the middle of the room one empty table up from the chess players.

Front door. In the door comes the prettiest girl, blue dress, sleeveless, cowboy boots; cowgirl.

It's Caryanne. She's grinning, greeting people who greet her, waving to the first group who came in, high fives the girls playing chess. She looks at me, gives me a little wave. Cute... little wave. I raise my hand, look at the potato chip rack. Damn. Damn, damn, damn! I eat my Angus burger. Andrea's back, "Forgot your soup!" she says, grins, sets the bowl in front of me, face brightens to see Caryanne. "How'd she do last night?" She asks, clarifies, "Okay? No... sickness or anything?" She's asking about the effects of the drug.

"No, nothing," I say, "that I'm aware of. She was gone when I got up, but I found her down the street, gave her a ride to work. Bike wheel was bent, crashing into your door, Albert's door, probably other doors we don't know about."

Andrea laughs, a little heartier than the joke merits. She needs to laugh.

"Work?" Andrea says. "Where does she work?" I begin to assess what I should tell if she doesn't already know. Suddenly Caryanne's there, sits on the stool, leans on the counter, the bar, and...

"Don't leave your bike out on the sidewalk honey," Andrea says. "Somebody'll steal it!"

"It's... okay Mom," she says. "It's not out there."

"So, how's work?" Andrea asks, implications in her tone, raised eyebrows. She doesn't wait for an answer, goes out in the room.

"Work's fine," she says. I look. She's looking at me, grinning.

"I... told her I gave you a ride... to work," I explain. Andrea's back, to the kitchen. "I didn't tell her any more than that. I didn't think about... whether that was... information you wanted... shared."

"That's my Mommy, Candy," she says. "You can tell her anything you want." I have to chuckle.

"Really?" I say, tease, "Even about dancing at the hoochie coochie club?"

She laughs, spontaneous, joyous, like Andrea just did. Good! The idea is so outlandish she doesn't give it a second's thought to be offended. Andrea's leaning from the kitchen, looking out at us, wiping her hands on a towel, looking, grinning. She comes and gets a tray, looks it over, looks at me, grins, goes, loads it, comes by, goes to serve it. She's back, snatches another tray from the stack, goes to the kitchen. Comes out with another trayful and serves it. Caryanne's not smiling any more. When Andrea comes back she says,

"Mom, do you need some help?"

I look from her face to Andrea's. Andrea's face goes sort of dark. At first I think she's... maybe... angered by the offer. But then I think she's just... hiding some emotion she doesn't want to share. I look at the potato chip rack.

"Sure," she says, goes into the kitchen. Caryanne touches my right side, my waist, as she gets up, goes around me into the kitchen. I hear them talking. I eat my burger, spoon my soup. Caryanne comes out, goes to the coolers, starts searching for certain brands. Finds them, trays them, goes out the far end of the bar. I don't look to see her serve them, but, I can see that blue dress out of the corner of my... consciousness. She's back, draws some soda pop drinks, trays them, puts on a short white apron, goes out. I refocus on my lunch, finish it. Andrea's buzzing by. No small talk now. Busy, makin' money!

I can hear her telling people, "Yes, that's my daughter!", them saying, "I thought so! She looks just like you!", Andrea saying, "I wish! Isn't she pretty?" Yes, she is.

A woman's asking, "Why haven't we seen her before?"

Caryanne's saying, "She keeps me in the attic!" I can see her finger pointing up at the ceiling. They laugh! I laugh! The attic; the upstairs visitor. Lady down the bar looks at me sideways.

Andrea comes back, stops at the end of the bar. I'm looking at her. She looks at me, says, "She never did this before!" She goes to the kitchen. I look over the potato chip rack, see the curly blonde hair moving back and forth. She comes behind me, brushes my back with her hand as she goes behind the bar. She turns, spins to face me as she steps into the space. "Man!" she says. "This place is poppin'! I had no idea! I've only ever been in here at night when it's just a few drunks. She grins, says, "A couple of you drunks." She... spins away, goes on to the kitchen. I can see her back. Tan, little blonde hairs in the fluorescent light. They're talking. It's... all business, what things go to what tables, makin' it work. I sip my coffee. It's lukewarm. Little mindreader, Caryanne, comes out with three coffee cups in her left hand, pot in her right, half refills my cup, grins, says, "I thought you didn't drink coffee?", goes on out, our eyes on each other until it's not possible any more. It's embarrassing! I can't... not look at her. I hear her, see her, imagine her, moving around the room. Lots of laughter. She's charming. She's her mother's daughter. Andrea elicits the same laughter when she's out in the room. It's... a good day in Broken Places.

I'm thinkin' it's time to pay my bill, get up and out of here. I reach and take out my wallet, lay a ten and two ones on the bar, push my empty bowl, plate to the back of the bar. I look at myself over the potato chip rack. I'm not getting up. There's something wrong with me.

I look at Andrea, hustling to the cash register, big grin. Her brow's... unwrinkled. She's hustling out into the room. What can I tell her about... her upstairs visitor? It's not my business. It's... part of this whole thing between them. I want out of it. I should stay out of it. I'm staying out. I ain't tellin' HER. I ain't askin' Caryanne. It's... they're... working things out and if they want to or need to... know something... they need to get it from each other. Anything I do or say is bound to be wrong for one of them, and I don't want to be wrong... for either of them, especially... Yeah. It's... delicate. Let them work it out. The guy lookin' back at me over the potato chip rack nods his head one time; decided.

People finish, pay, ka-ching, cash register, credit cards. Andrea's showing Caryanne how the register works, how the credit card machine works. A few more people come in. They clear tables, take orders. My coffee cup's empty. I stand, take it, my bowl, plate, go back in the kitchen, dip a plastic dishpan in the soapy water in the sink, set it up on the side of the sink, start washing dishes. They come, one at a time.

"Well bless your heart!" Andrea says. She goes out. Caryanne comes in, says,

"Hey! Dishwasher! Well bless your heart! 'Bout time you got here!" She laughs, touches my back. I don't say anything. I'm... a little embarrassed, for...no particular reason. I feel it in my face. She goes out.

They come and go. I'm aware who's there behind me. I don't look other than peripheral vision and the blue dress with the white apron I can't miss. They drop bowls and plates into the sink. Caryanne touches me. Why does she touch me? I like it. It... feels... affectionate. It... feels... unnecessary. But she does it. I like it.

I've finished the dishes. I go for the three pots on the stove. One has tomato soup. The other two have residue of chicken noodle, something else, but are pretty much empty. I wash those two, wipe down the stove. I scrape at the grille, pile the burger remnants on one side. I clean some grease spatter on the sink beside the deep fryer, on the back of it, the table on the other end. Onion peels, those papery things that stick when they get wet. Aggravating. I sweep the floor, just some paper towel pieces, some cracker packaging, onion peels. I... or... someone's splashed a bit of water. I put a doubled paper towel in it, drag it around with my foot, toss it in the trash. I dry my hands, forearms, go out, sit at the bar. My money's still there. The place is clearing out. The two girls aren't playing chess, now sitting at the bar. They get up, go out. One waves to Caryanne. She waves back. People go out. A guy comes in. Caryanne goes behind the bar, serves him a beer, uses the cash register, gives him his change. A little conversation, leaning on the bar, fist on hip, like Andrea does. She... looks, statuesque. She ends it, comes up my way, looking at me the whole time, me looking at her.

"Need more coffee?" she asks, pointing.

"No,thank you," I tell her. "I'm wired now!" I show her my right hand, make it quiver. She laughs. I like her laugh. She goes on. I'm... just another customer. She comes out, sits beside me.

"Wow!" she says, "I can't believe that... rush hour!" She laughs. Mom's a Hustlin' Ho if she deals with this every day! I've been wondering how she keeps this place alive! She made some money today!"

"Yeah," I say. "I had no idea. We came here for lunch once and it wasn't this packed. I guess it was early. And the crowd today changed at least once to a whole new crowd I think. People ate, paid up, left and just in time because other people came."

"I know!" she says. "It was poppin'! She was hoppin'! I'm so glad... I... I'm... so glad I came in today." She's quiet. That... stuttering... seems to belie some... emotion. She's looking at her hands. I look at the potato chip rack.

"How's your knee?" I ask. She spins, pulls it up toward me, puts her left foot on the side of my stool. I can see up her dress. She's wearing black bicycle shorts. Still... Too... sensuous a view. Her wounds are all scabbed over. Big round one on the right kneecap, long wide one tapers down her left shin. Visions of Supergirl flying over that Lincoln door to throttle Albert! I laugh, shake my head.

"What?" she says, grinning. "What? What?" She pokes me in the ribs. She takes her leg down. I laugh.

"You, Supergirl," I tell her, "flying over Albert's door. And you pounding on him. You're scary!"

She laughs, says, "He deserved it. I'd do it again. I will do it again!" She turns back to the bar, folds her hands. "You... don't have to be afraid of me though. I'd never hurt you. I'm not scary."

I make a gesture of wiping sweat from my brow, say, "Whew! That's good to know!" She laughs, looks at her hands. She gets up, busses some tables, sets the bottles gently into the trash. Takes stuff to the kitchen. Comes by. I... we... can't help looking at... her... at each other. She goes by. I'm looking at the potato chip rack. I go and wash the dishes she's brought to the kitchen. Finish up. I decide to go. Andrea's busy at the cash register. I stand, look around. Caryanne's not in the room. I lean into the space between the bar and the kitchen; not there. She's... gone. I was aware of the front door opening, not much, just enough to change the light in the room. I didn't look.

Andrea comes and stops by the end of the bar, pushes my money back, says, "Your money's no good here mister!" I push it back, say,

"Well, split it as a tip with that new waitress!" She laughs, looks around. Her face goes blank, registers concern.

"Where'd she go?"

"I don't know," I tell her. "I noticed the door open but I didn't look. Andrea's face... the distress... she steels herself. Then it's... just... Andrea's face, like I've only known Andrea's face. She goes in the kitchen. I go to the front door, see the white apron on the end of the bar, go out, look up and down the street. I want to see that blue dress. I don't. I get in my truck. I sit there. Finally, I start up, look for traffic, pull out. I go around the block, so I can glance down the alley, nothing, go to the light, turn left, go home.

I'm in bed when I hear a knock at the door.