Short Story / Marcy/Marci

      The rain poured onto the street rolling out of the sky as if it was a slanted back drop. Marciano walked up the street, drenched. His skate board was useless under his feet slip sliding into the gutter, the wind pressuring him off like a drunkard, he’d given up and carried it blocks ago. Miss Levy was driving along the same road on her way home. She peered over her steering wheel, yes, she was sure that was the neighbor boy. She honked her horn. Marciano looked up, his first instinct was to wave and to turn back to walking with his head down marching forward but instead, he bolted for the stopped car and jumped in the passenger seat.
      “Thanks.” He said sheepishly once he was inside, dripping wet atop her microfiber seats.
     “You’re welcome.” She turned right down Vinton towards their apartment building.
      “Why didn’t you a ride home Marciano?” She asked as they neared the apartment building
      “I didn’t have one ma’am. Dad’s working, he didn’t answer his phone .” Marciano said embarrassed. Miss Levy felt sorry for Marciano.
      Miss Levy knew a little about the boy and his father. The father had lived in the building long before she had and apparently he’d had a girlfriend who’d left suddenly, reappearing three years later with a baby boy named Marciano about the time she’d moved in to the unit in the rear of the complex. The block children and his father called him “Marci” which made her feel sorry for the child, after all it was a woman’s name, she should know, it was her own name. The girlfriend or wife, whatever she’d been, didn’t stay long after that either. She’d disappeared again, to some foreign country where she’d originally met Marci’s father. Miss Levy thought it was the Philippines but she couldn’t be sure, but Marci had striking looks – his father who was particularly handsome with sandy blonde hair and charming blue eyes had given the boy the same incredible features along with his mother’s tan skin, he would grow to be quite the envy of many men and break triple the hearts she imagined his father had.
      The car halted in the car port and before another word could be spoken between them, Maricano bolted out of the car. Miss Levy gathered her belongings from the day (a coffee container, purse, briefcase) and walked toward her stairway in the back of the building. She thought about checking on Marci and his father but decided she’d helped enough for that day, anything more might be nosey.
     Marcy stopped at the mail box. There was nothing but reminders of debt she couldn’t afford to pay and didn’t care to. She climbed up and could hear her two cats, Patch who would steeple chase the sofa all day long with Jones not following too short behind him, meowing at the balcony. Upon the door opening they curved around her legs as cat are wan to do. She set down her briefcase and purse and wasted no time into her routine. She went into her bedroom and put on a pair of comfortable pajamas and then went into the kitchen to open a bottle of wine.
     Carrying her wine glass into the living room, she turned on the computer and waited for it to come to life. Much like any other night, she drank too much wine and the writing she was involved with would suffer, with her giving up at the blinking cursor as her hands got tied up in slurs of alphabet on screen. She’d walk into the bedroom, open her windows and go to sleep until the alarm went off at 7:00 AM.

     In the morning it was still raining with no promise of stopping the near future. Marciano had lingered in the carport in hopes of seeing Miss Levy, whom he knew went to work before 8AM each day. Like clockwork she came down the stairs with too much bounty in her arms and Marci ran up to help her. Gratefully she handed him her brief case and walked toward her sedan.
     “I was wondering if you would give me a ride to school if it was on your way?” Marci asked her. He was a polite child and despite the lingering melancholy about him, he easily charmed her or anyone he was near.
     “It is on my way Marciano, I’d be glad to.” He jumped into the car and she started the engine looking at him thoughtfully.
     On the way he confessed his teacher was worried about him and said he was abused. This sent a flush over Miss Levy. “Miss Levy, my dad has never raised a hand to me.” And from what Marcy knew of the Seymour’s she agreed, the boy wanted for nothing, if anything she’d thought perhaps the father was still very much a child himself with the way they would play together outside in afternoons in the past. Though, she realized, she hadn’t seen much of Mr. Seymour lately. “The teacher said neglect is just as abusive as if my daddy did hit me.” This concerned Marcy because the more she thought about it, the more she did wonder why this eight year old was wandering home in rain, hanging out in car ports and moreso, that now that she’d given it thought, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Mr. Seymour outside of his apartment.
     As they approached the school, Marci thanked Miss Levy and scrambled out of the car.
     “Marciano!” She called after him. He turned back and looked at her. “I’ll pick you up at three-thirty okay?” A smile crossed his face and he nodded, then ran off into the crowd of children behind the gate.
     Miss Levy who didn’t have any children of her own, wondered why she’d never stopped her journalism career and just settled down to have something stable. She was a beautiful woman with naturally dark hair, simmering green eyes and a lovely figure. While she may not turn heads in a room, those who did stare were hard put to ever remove their eyes. However, for Marcy, not much ever remained stable. Her choice in lovers was forever clouded in bad decision making and irrational passion. After her last affair which ended in a restraining order, she’d moved out of her comfort zone and found an apartment on a block filled to the brim with other people, families, artists and the lot – somewhere she could blend in an d be forgotten and for the last five years she’d succeeded.
     Her writing career had its ups and downs. The travel days were something she no longer missed and the international stories were too difficult to maintain after September 11th. While in her youth it seemed such a patriotic and engrossing though to break news as a captured reporter, entering her thirty’s calmed that storm within and with her last affair breaking her free spirit she was happy to do some freelance work, holding on to whom she’d once been. It was enough clout to get decent stories in various magazines and offered her free time to work on her book and ample time to scribble therapeutic poetry.

     The next two weeks the Marci would be found in the morning waiting around Miss Levy’s car for a ride to school, it’d become their ritual and over the course of the week he’d become more talkative and the two would converse about various subjects on the way to and from school.
     One afternoon, as she was walking into the apartment about to get into her trusty pajamas her doorbell rang. She walked from the bedroom to the foyer and Marci stood at her door. “My Dad would like to talk to you.”
      “Sounds fair enough, tell him I’ll be right over.” Marci nodded and she went into the bathroom to check herself over before walking into Mr. Seymour’s home. She patted the cats lightly out of her way at the door and walked down the walkway toward the front of the building to Mr. Seymour’s apartment. She climbed the staircase and when she approached the door a voice beckoned her to come inside.
     Walking in she noticed the extreme neatness of the home and that there was an area to leave ones shoes. She slipped out of her heels and waited in the familiar doorway (just facing the opposite direction of her own apartment).    

     “Come on in the living room.” Mr. Seymour said warmly. She thought it odd he didn’t greet her at the door but she obliged his request.
Along the walls were multitudes of authentic masks, Asian art, strange jeweled Skulls incased against a couple walls. She looked around for somewhere to sit, realizing that the Persian pillows on the floor served as his sofa. She sat Indian legged.
      “Thanks for coming over. Marci has been talking about you quite a bit and told me that you’ve been giving him a ride to and from school lately and I wanted to thank you Miss Levy.”
    “Please, call me Marcy.” He smirked at the idea of her name, she smiled shyly. The both let out a small laugh.
      “Marcy, I really appreciate you giving Marci a ride.” The smirk reappeared. “I’m sorry I didn’ t greet you at the door. You see, I’ve broken my back twice in my life and the last six months, I haven’t been able to do much for long periods of time.” This shocked Marcy. Staring at Mr. Seymour she couldn’t imagine that someone who looked so healthy could be immobilized.
       “Is there anything I can do?” Marcy instinctively asked.
      “No, please no. We get along fine. I arrange for everything we need, I neglected to arrange for transportation for Marci. When I was growing up, I walked to school and back. I never thought twice about it. Of course, when I was growing up, I think I was a little more independent but circumstances will do that to you.” He stopped uncomfortable. “I just well, I appreciate it and if there’s anything we can do for you I’d be glad to. Anyone who looks out for my son – well, I return the favor.” He was a man of respect, instantly one felt respect for him. After all, here he was in a home immaculately clean, raising a son on his own after being abandoned twice by a woman he must have loved and it became even more engrossing to know he was unable to take care of himself as he had for many years. Marcy instantly wanted to mother them both.
      “Would you like to stay for dinner?” Mr. Seymour asked. Marcy thought it over quickly, her desire to be alone made her want to run for the door but her lack of social behavior as of late – created a desire to stay.
      “Sure, I’d love to, Mr. Seymour.” She said rather courteously re-framing the uncomfortable scene between them.
     “Call me Jon.” Jon moved slowly to turn around and grab his phone as he called in an order to the local Mexican restaurant. Marcy surmised the two probably ate most of their meals from the local restaurants or fast food restaurants and made a note to herself to go to the grocery store and show the boys some real food soon.
      Dinner arrived and Jon got up slowly from the floor behind the coffee table and made his way to the door with great effort. She imagined he was no more than forty, perhaps ten years her elder but he walked like a man well into his seventy’s after a back breaking career in the mines or construction. It made her heart ache.
      Marci, Marcy and Jon sat around the living room table and ate their meals. Marci excitedly telling his father stories about the day in school not recanting the lessons taught during the day but the bullying and game play during recess and lunch. His father replied in short all too wise answers and occasionally Marci was ashamed of his primal behavior when his father reprimanded him. The boy obviously adored his father. After dinner, Marcy picked up the empty containers and walked them into the kitchen.
     “Thank you.” Jon said.
     “No, thank you. That was a great dinner. Sometime I’ll have to drop over and cook for you two.” Marci’s eyes lit up and his father shot him a glance and then a smile, Jon’s smile was something else, most of the evening Marcy had noticed his smirk to things with a slight humor but his smile warmed the entire room.
      “I should be going,” Marcy said and bid adieu to the boys. Marci walked her home and said he was glad she’d come over. She agreed she was too.

      Life quickly fell into a pattern. A ritual of Jon’s buying dinner encouraged Marcy to insist on making dinner and three to four nights a week the three of them would enjoy a meal together. Often after the meal, Marci would do his homework at the table, occasionally interrupting the conversation between Jon and Marcy for assistance.
     Jon and Marcy had grown up in the same neighborhood and known many of the same peers. They’d gone to similar schools and while there was a ten year broadness between them, there was much familiarity. Jon had enjoyed a career in the airline industry allowing him to travel to exotic places – which embellished his home with fine artifacts and interesting hobbies. Marcy’s career as a journalist had earned her much travel of her own and they often revealed stories about their favorite trips, each engaging each other for hours with witty conversation. A better kindred friendship could not have been desired and Marcy who’d felt alone for so long felt quite an attachment to the new men in her life. Overtime, their careers had lost some luster they’d confessed and things had changed the way one cannot predict and they’d moved along with the ebb and flow. Though, neither divulged the ebb.
     Jon demanded that for all the rides that Marcy gave Marci to school that he take out her trash and help her with any “man” work she needed and she gratefully accepted. It seemed a natural and wonderful change had occurred for all of them at an appropriate time.

     On Tuesdays Jon was apt to order in sushi. It was a nice treat for the three of them to sit around and use their chopsticks. Marci would theatrically use his to eat his food, often losing a chopstick in the air that his father somehow instinctively caught. Marcy had grown accustom to their Tuesday night gatherings at Jon and Marci’s apartment and it never dawned on her that anything would change between the three of them.
     She glanced in the mirror at home to ensure she looked well and trounced down her stair, slipping on the final step – glancing around, no one noticed. She walked down the pathway to see Marci sitting on the third step from the bottom bouncing a ball between himself the wooden fence. As she approached the rubber ball fell into the flower bed by the fence.
     “We can’t have dinner tonight.” Marci said. He looked deeply apologetic and his face was turning a shade of red. “The nurse is here.” At this Marcy grabbed the railing to run up the stairs to see if Jon was okay. “No, you don’ t get it.” Marci said angrily, jumping to his feet and back two steps to keep Marcy from reaching the door.
      Something like lead filled the pit of Marcy’s stomach. She set her left foot back down to her right foot at the bottom of the stairs. Her eyes pitched upwards toward the dark hallway, the light which was always on as if a welcome sign, was off. She tittered on the stair and slid her feet down to the walk way while still holding the rail.
     “Your dad is okay?” She had to ask in case she was wrong.
     “Yeah.” Marci said.
     “Okay, well, I’ll see you in the morning.” Marcy turned around and walked straight to her apartment, grabbed her car keys and went to the liquor store. She hadn’t been drinking the last few months because she’d been preoccupied and until the nurse had appeared, she hadn’t realized that Jon was seeing anyone. Frankly, she’d thought of him as asexual. While there was no indication that he was anything other than a gentleman, she just couldn’t picture him with a woman. He was engrossed with his computer experiments, trinkets, toys and his son and she hadn’t realized that during their time together she’d been longing for some sort of sign. While he was stunningly handsome, an incredible story teller and self-established she just hadn’t seen him as a swinging bachelor. Her mind reeled at the realizations and she was bitter that she’d been replaced without so much as a hint or apology.
      Her bitterness overflowed into her wineglass that night. Sending her back to the liquor store in a drunken haze twice. The next morning when Marci was waiting in the car port, she didn’ t get up. Marci grew concerned and while he’d promised his father never to go in Miss Levy’s house without permission he was afraid she might be dead. She really could be counted on like clockwork.   So, he naturally went up her stairs and opened her door. She was asleep, snoring even, on her sofa and beside her was a spilled bottle of red wine on the light beige carpet. Patch and Jones came running from the bedroom at the slight sound of his entrance and began meowing instinctively. Marcy opened one eye at a time.
     “I’m sorry Kid, I can’t give you a ride today.” She didn’t stir from her spot on the sofa. She’d put herself into quite a stupor and the morning which she had altogether hoped to have avoided, was stinging her eyes while her mind burned with an approaching migraine.
     Without a second thought, Marci went into her bathroom and opened her medicine cabinet. He retrieved a bottle of Excedrin and shook out two pills. Holding the pills in his fist, he went into the kitchen and poured her a glass of ice water. She was sleeping with no hope of waking so he placed the pills and water by her side. He quietly exited and as soon as he was gone Patch took a good couple licks of the water for himself before gaiting off to the bedroom again to soak in the morning sunbeams.
     Marci went to school and got himself home without the assistance of Miss Levy that day. When he got home the Nurse was still there and she was making some steak for dinner. Marci feigned that he was not feeling well and went into his room to play.

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