Just to the Right of the Dictionary (Excerpt)

                Ryan was drooling, quite unattractively, when Officer Pearson found him asleep on a park bench. He shook his head as he nudged Ryan. “Hey kid, wake up.”

                Ryan mumbled in his sleep, and a large blob of saliva slid off his cheek and plopped to the ground. Officer Pearson tried not to laugh as he crouched down to Ryan’s level. Ryan’s shoulder slid back into the bench as he gave it a quick shove.

                Ryan woke up with alarm. “What? Whoa!” He shrunk back into the bench as he made eye contact with Officer Person. He was a big man and a wide smile spread over his face as he laughed.

                “I’m terribly sorry,” he said. “The front desk attendant was on break during your wake up call. I hope I wasn’t a rude awakening.” He patted Ryan on the shoulder as he stood up.

                “What?” Ryan’s eyes were still spread wide.

                “It’s nothing. I thought I’d remind you, since you’re here, that park benches are not for sleeping.”

                Ryan looked down at the bench beneath him. “Oh, sorry man,” he said as he started to get up. Then he clutched his head and laid it back on the metal bars. “Jesus. Oh fuck, that hurts.” He squeezed his eyes and tried to push the throbbing away.

                “Hey, you just gotta take it slow.” He held his arm out to Ryan who tried not to groan as he sat up. He propped his head up with his hands and rubbed his thumbs over his eyes.

                “What the hell happened to me?” he said.

                Officer Pearson looked at him for a second and asked, “Where are you from, son?”

                “Huh? San Salvador.”

                “That’s it. You a student here?”

                “Yeah, I just started at CSU.” Ryan peered up at him between his hands.

                “Shit. How’d you end up all the way out here? That’s a good eighty blocks away. Well I can’t say I’m too surprised. Some weird shit always goes down on this first week. Half an hour ago I found a kid chained by the neck to a bike rack. So you’re not alone. You think you can walk yet?”

                “Yeah.” Ryan nodded.

                “Good. you need to get on home and get some more rest. These benches aren’t the best for sleeping on. How well do you know the buses around here?”

                “I don’t think I’ve ridden any.”

                “Okay. Well the easiest route for you to take is the Euclid Avenue bus. It will take you down to the big library and student center. You see the big striped building at the edge of the grass?”

Ryan turned in the direction of his outstretched arm. “Yeah.”

“Well, you gotta circle around to the front of that building. And continue past the pond out to the big intersection. Then make a sharp left and the bus stop is down the sidewalk in front of Thwing.”
                “Thwing?”

“It’s Case’s student center. There’s big sign out front. And they’ve got restrooms if you need them. When you get on the bus keep your ears open. You wanna get off at East 21^st. Got it? ” Ryan nodded. With one swift motion Officer Pearson lifted him off the bench. “Before you take off, what’s your name, son?”

“Ryan.”

“Ryan?” He put on a puzzled look. “Really? I’ve never heard of anyone named Ryan with an accent like yours. You’re sure you’re from San Salvador?” Officer Pearson chuckled to himself.

“Alright Ryan well I want to tell you one last thing.” He craned his neck down to look straight into Ryan’s eyes.  “If I find you on one of my benches again, I will personally spearhead your intervention. Just keep that in mind.” With that he pushed Ryan down the path.

                A minute later he was trudging through the thick grass that bordered a large stone building. As he reached the corner an orange industrial lawn mower cut around the edge of the building and slammed to a halt a foot away from him. The man mounted on top of the mower screamed at him over the noise of the engine. “Hey! Get off the grass! There’s a path right there! Why don’t you walk on it!”

                Ryan jumped to the path as the mower roared over the grass he had just been on. He kept to the path as it rounded the front of the building to avoid any other irritable caretakers. His stomach gurgled unpleasantly as he walked, and giving up on getting to the bus, he sat down on a stone bench between two large bushes. He leaned over so his head rested on his knees. He couldn’t close his eyes because the spinning patterns on his eyelids made the grumbling inside him worse. He stared at the toes of his shoes, where a tiny black ant was navigating the craters of the mesh fabric. He let it run until it had reached the laces, then he wriggled his shoe off and blew the ant into the bushes. He had just settled his head back onto his knees when he heard someone walk around the bushes at the end of the path. With each step the clop, clop, clop, clop of the footsteps got louder. Ryan adjusted his head just in time to see a pair of cowboy boots stop in front of him. “Hi!” A girl’s voice rang out above him. “You okay?”

                Ryan raised his head. A thin girl with wild, curly hair smiled at him. “Sort of,” he said.

                “Well you only ‘sort of’ look okay to me. Here I know what will make you feel better. A silly band!” She flung out her wrists which were covered in a rainbow of colors.

                “What’s a silly band?”

                The girl pulled a dozen off of one hand and held them up to Ryan’s face. “They’re rubber bands that are made into shapes. I love them. See this one’s an elephant, and this one, what is that? Oh it’s a princess crown. This one’s a sun. Which one do you want?” Ryan stared blankly as she pulled a dozen more off her wrist and sat down beside him. She looked at him expectantly and then tore more off her wrist. “I know. I have the perfect one.” She sorted through her growing pile until she found a lime green band. “It’s a brontosaurus. They’re my favorite.” She grabbed Ryan’s wrist and snapped it on.

                “Wait,” Ryan said, “I can’t take your favorite one.” He went to work it off, but she brushed his hands away.

                “Sure you can. I have two more still. And they’re only ten cents a piece.” She pulled another lime green band off her wrist for proof. “This way we can be bronto-buddies.” Smiling at him, she rearranged the bands on her wrists. Ryan started laughing. “See!” she said. “I told you silly bands would make you feel better.”

                “Ok, well, bronto-buddy, you were definitely right. I do feel better.”

                “Since we’re bronto-buddies, you should probably know my name, huh? It’s Jamie.” She held out her hand to him.

                “Um. Ryan,” he said shaking her hand.

                “Ryan. That’s totally not the name I was expecting to hear. I was thinking it would be Javier, or Felipe.”

                “My middle name is Gerardo,” Ryan offered.

                “Oh! That’s so cool. I love the way you say that. Where are you from?”

                “El Salvador. Except I’m originally from Guatemala.”

                “Awesome I’ve never known anyone from either of those places. Are you going to school here?”

                “Yeah. CSU for pre-med.”
                “Wow. Okay. That’s way over my head. I just go to the CIA.”

                “What? You’re a spy?” Ryan heard the words come out of his mouth and thought they were the dumbest things to ever emerge from his mouth. “Wow, I’m an idiot,” he mumbled.

                “No it’s fine. It stands for the Cleveland Institute of Art. A lot of people get mixed up. They would never let me into the other CIA. I’m way too artsy fartsy for them.” She laughed and turned around on the bench. “See that red building over there with all the windows. That’s my studio. I come out here to sketch and paint though. There’s so much color and life that gets lost when you’re looking through glass. I can’t stand painting inside. Also all of my favorite trees are over here.” She looked down the hill at the pond, and the willow trees sunk into its banks.

                Ryan looked down the bank. He knew the conversation was lost after they had sat in silence for a few minutes. “I guess I’ll leave you to your painting, if that’s what you’re here to do.” He stood up to go. Jamie still stared at the banks.

“Okay. I’ll see you around bronto-buddy,” she said. “I hope you feel better.”

Ryan nodded. “I do. Thanks.” He started to walk away, but turned around. “Umm. I’m sorry to ask but I really don’t know where I’m going.”

Jamie’s face lit up at the prospect of being helpful again. “Actually, I was thinking of taking the bus downtown to have lunch anyways.” She hopped up. “There’s a really great middle eastern place that’s only like a block away from CSU,” she said as she gathered up her bag.

“I don’t want you to go out of your way,” Ryan said.

“No. It’s worth it. Trust me. You should come try it out.” She turned around and saw that across the lawn a young man was looking at her over his newspaper. “Hello,” she said. “Would you like a silly band too?” The man shook his head and ducked back behind his newspaper. Jamie shrugged and took off down the hill, letting Ryan trail behind.
               

Jack waited till he couldn’t hear the girl’s voice before he dared poke his head out from behind his newspaper. When he felt certain they were gone, he folded up the pad of notes on his lap and then wrapped the paper around it. He tucked the package under his arm as he stood and walked down the hill toward the pond. He walked slowly around it, letting the questions swimming in his head settle into words. If he phrased them right this time he might get an answer. A pair of lights flicked at him from the street, and he saw his father lean from the driver’s seat and push the passenger door open for him.

                “How’d it go?” he asked.

                “Fine,” Jack said as he got in. They pulled away from the curb and into traffic.

                “So tell me what you learned. Who is this girl?” He tapped the picture that was pinned under his leg. “Start off with the easy stuff. Profession, habits, routines.

                “Well like you guessed she’s a student.”

                “Ha!” He slapped the dashboard, and Jack grabbed the wheel before they veered out of their lane. “I called it didn’t I?” he said as he took the wheel back.

                “Yeah sure. Keep your hands on the wheel. Remember we didn’t even have money for the insurance policy on this thing. You can’t crash.”

                “Sorry. So what’s she doing?”

                “Art major. At the art institute.”

                “Kay. So do you think she’s in the gardens as much as we were told?”

                “From what I gathered, she is there every day. Mostly painting.”

                “Any other interesting habits or routines?”

                “She says hello to everyone she sees. Even to me.”

                “What?” Jack’s father brought the car to a stop a little faster than he needed to at the light. “She noticed you? Why were you even in a position for her to see you? What were you thinking?”

                “I was across a courtyard, reading. I didn’t even think she would bother to look at me.”

                “You have to be much more careful. If she sees you again she’ll get suspicious.”

                “What if she sees me in the park?” Jack said “There’s nothing to suggest I’m anything more than a business man on lunch break. I might even get to talk to her.”

His father looked at the road for a minute. “It’s dangerous to get that close. If even one of her friends can describe you…”

“I know. I don’t plan to make friends. But sitting on a bench in plain sight is much easier than sneaking around in the bushes. I can learn a lot more if she can talk freely around me.”

His father scrunched his brow. It made his greying eyebrows bristle. “Okay. I think you’re taking my advice too far but you might be on to something.”

“Know your mark?”

“Exactly. So what else did you learn?”

“Not much. I got most of this because she was talking to someone else.”

“Who? A friend.”

“No. I think they’d just met. Another student, not from the institute.”

“From CSU?”

“Yeah, but there was something wrong with him. I didn’t catch it all, but she left with him.

“Do you think he’ll show up again?”

“No. I think she was just helping him get home.”

“Good. It seems like this won’t be a problem for you. I’ll tell our client that you’re up for the job.” He pulled out his phone and started to slowly type out an email, letting Jack hold the wheel.

“Dad, you know how you always said to tell you if something about a mark doesn’t feel right?”

“Yeah. Is there something wrong with the girl?”

“It’s just… I don’t see why our client wants her dead. How does anyone gain from killing her?”

His father sighed. “You’re forgetting the second part of my advice. Know you mark, but stay away from your client. Our guarantee is anonymity. We keep our clients hands clean by staying away from them. It keeps us out of trouble too. They never see our faces.”

“I just get the feeling that there is no reason. And that makes me think that we’re walking into a trap.

“You’ll just have to trust me. I know when I’m walking into a trap. It’s happened before, but I’m still here. I wouldn’t lead you astray.”

Jack rode in silence until they pulled up to the airport. His father spent a few minutes typing out an email on his phone as they idled in front of the sliding doors. Then he rummaged through a pile in the back seat and produced a ticket. This is for the flight to Boulder next Saturday. Don’t lose it.” Jack got his suitcase from the trunk. “Good luck.” His father hugged him. “And don’t forget the rule.”

“Know your mark, not your client.”

“That’s right. Make me proud son,” he said as the sliding doors opened for him. Jack got back in the car and drove away.

               

                Jamie and Ryan had grabbed two adjacent seats in the farthest corner of the bus running downtown. Ryan watched her with his peripherals as they lurched back and forth in their seats. Her gaze ran along the streets outside the bus lingering on pedestrians, street corners, and store fronts. As the bus passed in and out of the shadows of buildings, light wove through her thick curls and each jolt of the bus sent it bouncing out of her hair.

                “Look,” she pointed out the opposite window over the head of a stocky Mexican man. “That brick building was the old masonic temple. The interior burned in the ‘70s. It was arson.” She turned around in her seat to point at a dilapidated house in the field past a closed car dealership. “And that’s the last standing house from Millionaire’s Row. It was a clubhouse for a while but it’s been sitting empty for almost twenty years. They’re planning to bulldoze it next month. To be part of a parking lot for the Cleveland Clinic. Fucking Cleveland Clinic.” Ryan looked down the length of the bus. Every banner and poster read Cleveland Clinic Health Line at the top. Jamie looked at him with a sly smile. “If they were as good at removing cancer as they claim to be, they’d be gone by now.” She laughed to herself.             

                “My friend’s parents back home told me that Cleveland was good for pre-med because the Clinic was so big,” Ryan said quietly.

                “Don’t get me wrong,” she said, “they’re great at what they do, but that’s what I hate about them. They’re too big. It seems like each time I find something interesting in this city, they’ve already got permission to turn it into another parking garage.”

                “From what I can see right now, a parking garage might be an improvement around here.”

                Jamie was looking back out the window. “Yeah, probably but it’s not the right kind of improvement.”

                “What is?” Ryan asked.

                Gesturing up at the buildings above them she said, “See all the old factories. When I’m a rich and famous artist, I’m gonna buy them all. And I’ll make one my studio, the one with the biggest windows, and the rest I’ll give to my school for studio space and offices and whatever. Use what’s already beautiful.” She leaned against the glass and stared at the passing streets again.

                A few minutes later, she sat up and pointed across the bus at a squat stone government building. “My mom works there,” she said as they passed.

                “Really? What’s she do?” Ryan asked, relieved she had finally broken the silence.

                “She’s the City Council President.”

                “Wow. That’s cool.”
                “I suppose. She’s probably not even there right now. She’s at her campaign headquarters I’ll bet. She’s trying to get elected to the Ohio General Assembly, so she never leaves her office there.”

                “That’s a really big jump isn’t it?”

                “Yeah, but she’s not really gonna make it. Her opponent has had his seat for six years and he’s a Dem. She doesn’t have a chance against that in an urban area.”

                “I’m sorry.”

                Jamie looked at him and smiled. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. She’s not cut out for the job anyways. And if she did get it… jeez. Talk about tyranny. We don’t need another title going to her head.” As she rolled her eyes, the driver came over the loudspeaker.

                “19^th Street East.”

                Jamie whirled around. “Oh shit. We went right past your stop. I wasn’t even thinking about it.” They hurried out the bus door. “I hope you don’t mind walking a few blocks.”

        

(There will probably be a number of scenes between the previous scene and this one in the future)

                Jack’s eyes opened towards the studs in the roof of his childhood home barely visible in the darkness. From his room in the attic he could hear a whispering rustle coming up the stairs. His mother leaned silent over his bed. He barely saw her face, but he felt her hands brush his hair backwards as she kissed his forehead. In a moment, she was back down the stairs without a word. Jack held his breath and listened. He still heard her moving in her room, the soft sound of her feet sweeping across the carpet. He rolled off his bed, down to the floor, and crawled over to the top of the stairs. His mother flashed past the bottom of the stairs, a large box in her hands. Her long skirt fluttered behind her. A moment later a muffled rumble, the sound of a chair rubbing backwards on the tile floated up from the kitchen.

                Suddenly a pane of glass crashed, and Jack’s mother shrieked in surprise. Then she whispered, “Roger? You scared me. What were you thinking?”

                The front door opened and the glass from the window crunched under heavy boots. “Good morning dear,” his father’s voice came through throaty and hushed, “you’re up early.”

                “I, I wanted to get a fresh start today, and…and…”

                “Hit the road before dawn?”

                “No. I’m just packing up some old things for the thrift store.”

                “Dear, you don’t have to lie to me.”

                “I’m not lying. Please dear.”
                “You’re running away because of the nightmares you’ve been having. I can see it in the way you look at me in the morning. You think I’m a killer. You think I’m mad.”

                “No. I love you. Please believe me.”

                “Do you hate me?” Jack’s father let the question hang in the air. “You’re afraid of me…”

                “Yes,” she answered in a whisper.

                No noise came up the stairs for a moment and Jack felt his heart thudding into the floor. And then a chair was thrown back as his father lunged. There was a crash, another window shattered. His mother’s scream rose above the chaos, “Stay away!” A plate shattered, and then the front door crashed open.

Jack broke free of his trance and screamed, “Mom? Mom!” He jumped up, running headfirst into a rafter. Tears welled up, and he fell backwards onto his mattress. His mother’s screams ended abruptly. He sat up rubbing his head furiously and ducked over to the stairs. He ran down the stairs calling for his mother. As he reached the bottom he heard someone else call her name.

“Carol! Where are you?” his father’s voice echoed down from her room. Jack froze in the hallway, bewildered. His father turned a corner barreling down on him, eyes full of panic. Jack gave up a blank stare as his father toppled over him. He was back on his feet in a moment, hoisting Jack up, a hand under each arm. “Where’s Mom?” he said. Jack broke into tears as his dad carried him out the front door. His mother lay writhing in the grass, a large knife jutting out of her chest. Jack fell out of his father’s arms. Crouching in the grass, he whispered to her and then sprinted back into house for the phone. He kneeled over her with it, the cord suspended over Jack to the receiver. Ten minutes later the ambulance roared up, and paramedics pushed his father away.  He cradled Jack in his arms as they sat on the stoop watching as the paramedics attended to her. Finally they stopped work and wiped the sweat from their brows. Tears rolled down onto Jack from his father’s cheeks.

Jack woke up sweating. This time only a blank white ceiling hung over him. He laid still in his bed, watching the intermittent blips of the smoke alarm, mind churning. There had been no burglars, like his father had reported to the police.

                Jack threw the covers off and stared at the wrinkled sheets of the other bed his father had been sleeping in. Sticking out of the mattress, where his father’s chest had been the night before, was a large knife. Jack scowled at it, embedded in only fluff. He cursed his hesitation last night.