Part 2 (1/2)
”Thomas? Thomas, you get back here, right now! Where are you?”
”Mommy? MOMMY! Where's my mommy?”
”Thomas! You quit scaring me right now. Come back.”
”Motherf.u.c.ker...” The guy from the Volvo threw his cell phone down, smas.h.i.+ng it on the pavement. The broken casing slid under a nearby car. ”G.o.d d.a.m.n piece of s.h.i.+t. I've got a meeting, G.o.dd.a.m.n it!”
”That guy is losing it,” I whispered to Frank.
Volvo kicked his front tire.
Frank eyed him warily. ”Yeah, we'd better keep an eye on him till the cops show up.”
I turned back to Charlie and the young blonde woman. She was in hysterics, crawling underneath her car and scratching at the pavement, and all the while shrieking for her missing baby. Her skirt was soiled with dirt and grease. Charlie knelt beside her, his expression a mixture of sadness and bewilderment. He looked to me for help, motioning me over.
”Leiberman,” Frank grunted. ”You Jewish?”
I nodded. ”That's right.”
”I got a friend that's a Jew. Nice guy. We play cards sometimes.”
I'd heard this reaction before, many times, in fact. I guess it's that way for lots of people-white, Anglo-Saxon protestants a.s.suring them that they have a friend who's black or Muslim or gay or Jewish, and they're okay with it. It's always struck me as sort of weird. I do know it's that way for Charlie, living as a gay man in corporate America. I've watched him go through it time and time again, usually at company functions or Christmas parties, when one of our co-workers has had too much to drink and has to prove how evolved he is by a.s.suring Charlie that even though he's straight, he has a lot of respect for Charlie publicly admitting that he's gay. Either that, or they feel the need to list their gay friends for Charlie. I never understood the reaction, but then again, I'm not a WASP.
I wasn't dogmatic about my faith. I was Jewish by birth, rather than belief. Most of the time, I wasn't even sure if I believed in G.o.d. To be honest, the only time I really talked to Him was when I wanted something. Mine was a faith of convenience. But my parents were devout. And I'd experienced just as much intolerance from them as I had from other religions and races. More, even. Terri was a Christian-a Lutheran, just like her parents. We'd met in college. When I told my parents we were going to get married, they threw a fit, forbidding me to marry her and threatening to disown me if I went through with it. I just laughed and explained that I was an adult now, and while I loved and respected them, I could make my own decisions. Then, when they saw that I was serious, they pestered me about what faith our children would be raised in. It didn't matter to me, but my parents worried that their grandchildren wouldn't be real Jews, since Judaism is traditionally pa.s.sed down through the mother's lineage. I wondered aloud if they'd love their grandchildren any less if they happened to be raised Lutheran. They didn't have an answer. I'd thought that would be the end of it. Figured they'd come to accept Terri as their daughter-in-law once we were married. But they didn't. My parents were just getting warmed up.
After the wedding, they demanded that a mezuzah be placed on the door of our house, to mark Jewish territory. Terri balked and told my mother exactly what she thought of the idea. Needless to say, relations with my family were strained from then on. I'd overheard them in private a few times, referring to Terri as a s.h.i.+kse. It's a term that's usually used jokingly, made popular by an old Seinfeld episode, but in Terri's case, they didn't mean it as a compliment.
After two years, Terri and I found out that we couldn't have children. Turned out I was sterile. Terri didn't want to adopt, and the whole point became moot anyway. Eventually, my parents dropped it.
But my heritage and our marriage didn't cause problems with just my side of the family. Terri's parents got in on the act as well, worrying about my immortal soul. Every chance they got, they'd witness to me about the glory of Christ. About how I had to be born again and needed to believe he was the son of G.o.d, that he'd died on the cross for me. And how I should ask him to come into my heart and forgive my sins, number one of which was being born into Judaism rather than Christianity. It was very important to them that I believed Jesus was the messiah. We'd had several arguments about it. At least they'd never accused me of killing their Savior. But they never missed a chance to let me know about the day when Christ would return to earth and take the faithful home. According to them, Jews-even devout ones-weren't allowed on that ride. They called it the Rapture. I'd asked Craig about it once, when we were out at a bar, and he told me that not all Christians believed in the Rapture. According to him, it wasn't even mentioned in the Bible.
Another shrieking siren brought me back to the present. Frank put his hardhat back on and stared off into the distance again. I wondered about Frank's comment. Was he secretly anti-Semitic and trying to cover it up? No, I decided. I was on edge and overreacting. It was this situation. We were standing in the midst of a ma.s.sive traffic jam. Dozens of people were injured and dozens more were apparently missing. This was not a normal, everyday commute. Frank was just as scared and freaked out as I was, and he was simply trying to make conversation by telling me about his Jewish friend. I let it go, and walked towards Charlie and the woman.
”I'll see if I can find someone with a cell phone that works,” Frank called after me. ”If I find one, I'll let you know.”
”Sounds good.”
”Hey,” the guy from the Volvo shouted. ”Where the h.e.l.l do you think you're going?”
I stopped, turned and fought to keep the annoyance out of my voice.
”To help my friend and this woman. Her daughter is missing.”
”Bulls.h.i.+t. You're not leaving the scene. You guys rear-ended me. I don't even have your insurance information yet. Just stay put until the cops get here.”
”For f.u.c.k's sake,” I sputtered. ”Leave the scene? Take a look around you, d.i.c.khead. The entire interstate is one big scene. Where would I go?”
I turned my back on him and walked towards Charlie and the hysterical mother.
”Hey!” Volvo's shout was hoa.r.s.e and shaky. ”Don't you walk away from me. I said get back here, G.o.dd.a.m.n it.”
”f.u.c.k you,” I called over my shoulder, and then punctuated it with, ”Jacka.s.s.”
His footsteps pounded across the asphalt. Before I could turn to face him, Charlie was at my side, his fists clenched. Several onlookers watched us warily. A few of them looked excited. Here was something to take their minds off their troubles: fellow commuters getting in a fist fight.
”Get out of my way,” Volvo growled.
”Not another step, buddy.” Charlie's expression was grim. Anger smoldered in his eyes.
Volvo stopped in his tracks, shaking with rage. ”You guys f.u.c.king rear-ended me. I've got witnesses.”
”Look,” I shouted. ”I don't know what your malfunction is, but in case you haven't noticed, you're not the only one in trouble here. Seriously. Take a good look around, man. Something's happened. Something is wrong. People are dead-and others are missing. Now, I'm sorry we hit you, but maybe you should have been paying attention to the road instead of talking on your f.u.c.king cell phone!”
”You-”
Charlie stepped between us, and drew himself up to his full height. He jabbed a finger at the yuppie's chest. ”That woman's baby is missing. We're going to help her find it. When we're done, if you still want to tangle, then I'll be glad to kick your a.s.s. But if you don't back down right now, so help me G.o.d, I will f.u.c.king kill you.”
”You won't do s.h.i.+t.”
”Think not?” Charlie smiled. ”Try me.”
Volvo's fists were clenched so tight that his knuckles had turned white. But he backed off.
”You just want to bang her,” he accused Charlie from a safe distance. ”Play good Samaritan and then screw her later on tonight.”
Charlie blew him a mock kiss. ”Actually, you're more my type. What are you doing later on, after they clean up this mess and tow away the cars? Want to have a drink with me?”
Volvo's ears turned deep red, but he walked away. We watched him go as he shuffled towards his car, casting wary glances at us over his shoulder. The sun glinted off his Rolex watch.
”Too bad he's such a d.i.c.k,” Charlie said. ”He's kind of cute.”
I chuckled. ”No accounting for taste.”
The young mother crawled through the weeds and trash at the side of the road. ”Britney? Baby?”
Charlie and I hurried to her side.
”We've got to find Britney,” she sobbed. ”Her car seat is empty. Where's my baby?”
”Don't worry,” Charlie soothed. ”We'll find her.”
She tried to speak, but her words dissolved into tears. Her nose was still bleeding.
”Hey, Steve!”
I turned to see Frank running towards us.
”Sit down here,” Charlie coaxed the woman, easing her onto the gra.s.s. ”We'll find your daughter. She's got to be close by.”
”Do you think so?”