Chicago Stories - Growing Up In the Windy City. Thomas Walsh

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СКАЧАТЬ Road. He crossed an intersection and tilted the front of the cart up on the run to make it easier to lift the back wheels of the cart over the curb and onto the sidewalk. The metal strips on the bottom of the wheels made a grinding sound against the dry concrete sidewalk. The sun was nearly up. The sky was clear. It was already warm. He could tell it would be a hot day.

      Tim stopped to gather papers to deliver to a large apartment building. As he bent over the push cart he noticed out of the side of his eye that there was a man about 50 feet behind him at the corner of the intersection he had just crossed. The man had stopped. He seemed to be watching him. Tim turned his head to look at the man. Even in the half light of dawn he could tell the man was not a bum or wino. If it was a bum or a wino, they would usually duck away and wait for a better opportunity to steal some papers unnoticed. The man did not turn away. He looked nervous and shuffled his feet. He was not dressed like a bum in soiled and disheveled clothes. He seemed normal, except he was unshaven and had dark deep-set eyes, which he cast to the ground when Tim looked at him. Tim thought about what to do next, then much to his relief the man walked off down the side street.

      Tim continued working his way down the block. He had an uneasy feeling that someone was watching him. A few times he thought he saw movement out of the side of his eye but when he looked nothing was there. At the end of the block, Tim came to a large apartment building with tall evergreen bushes along the front and sides of the building. He took a large number of rolled papers from the cart. He held all of the papers under his left arm. In his right hand he had a shillelagh. Tim’s father had brought the shillelagh from Ireland when he immigrated to America. Tim carried the shillelagh in his cart to fend off unfriendly dogs, and just in case, for protection from people. His brothers had told him that all of the paperboys carried a big stick or metal bar on morning paper routes in Uptown.

      He went around the side of the building and started down the gangway which was in half light from the rising sun. The man from the corner slipped quietly out of the bushes into the gangway a few feet behind Tim.

      “Hey kid! Hold on. I want to talk to you!” The man spoke in a soothing friendly voice.

      Tim spun around like a top. He knew immediately that it was the man from the corner. A stream of hot urine ran down his left leg until he regained his control. He dropped the rolled papers from under his left arm, and raised the shillelagh.

      “Whoa! Hold on kid. I only want to talk to you. I’m not going to hurt you. There’s no need to hit me.”

      “Get away from me mister! Leave me alone. Go away.” Tim said in a halting, uneven voice. His voice was still going through the change from a boy’s voice to a man’s.

      The man stayed where he was, but shuffled back and forth like he had done on the corner. Tim noticed that he was much older than he had appeared from a distance. The man leered at him through dark deep-set eyes that had pupils as wide as quarters in watery eye sockets. He was several inches shorter than Tim, who at 6 feet was tall for his age. The man was very thin almost skinny and had a sickly appearance and greasy looking whiskers on his face.

      “Kid, I just want to see if we can be friends. See, here’s ten bucks for you,” and the man took a ten dollar bill out of his pocket and held it up for Tim to see.

      “I have more money for you at my apartment, just around the block. We can go there and have some fun. I can give you a blow job. You’ll like it. It feels real good. And then you can give me a blow job so I can feel good too.”

      Tim knew what a blow job was. The thought of doing this with the disgusting pervert in front of him made him feel sick and angry. He was afraid to turn and run in case the man jumped him from behind. Tears began to well up in his eyes as he realized he needed to drive the pervert away.

      He grabbed the shillelagh with both hands and banged hard against the wall of the gangway, yelling in a cracking voice, “Get away from me you pervert. Get away!”

      Tim moved toward the pervert with the shillelagh raised. The man leaned back in shocked surprise.

      “Don’t hit me kid. I won’t hurt you. I’ll leave you alone,” he hastily spit out, as he turned and stumbled up the gangway stairs.

      Tim quickly bent over and put the shillelagh down, and picked up two rolled papers. He hurled the papers at the man, hitting him in the back with one and barely missing him with the other.

      He screamed, “Get out of here you pervert. Get away from me.”

      Tim picked up his shillelagh and went back out to the paper cart. He looked around to make sure that the man was gone. He wiped the tears that had involuntarily streamed down his cheeks onto his shirt sleeve. Tim stood for a while not sure what to do next. He was shaken but felt a responsibility to finish his route. Slowly and cautiously he went back to delivering papers.

      A half hour later after finishing his route Tim was walking his cart in the street on the way back to the paper barn. The red Murphy’s truck turned the next corner and came down the street toward him. Mickey stuck his arm and head out the window as he drove up next to Tim’s cart.

      With a broad smile Mickey said, “All done Timmy? Is everything O’K?” He could tell from the pained look on Tim’s face that something was seriously wrong.

      Mickey got out of the truck and walked over to Tim. “What’s wrong Timmy? What happened to you?”

      Tim began to tell Mickey what had happened. As much as tried not to, he broke down and cried, sobbing with his chest heaving as he told Mickey about the pervert.

      Mickey put his arm around his shoulder, and said repeatedly as he listened, “Son-of-a-bitch, Goddam pervert. He’ll pay for this.”

      Mickey took Tim’s cart and pushed it into an open parking spot. He told Tim to get in. Mickey called Peter on the truck radio and told him quickly what had happened to Tim. He told Peter to meet him on the street across from Sal’s Restaurant, a hang out in Uptown frequented by perverts, winos and small time criminals.

      Mickey parked across the street from Sal’s, a typical Chicago store front restaurant with big plate glass window across the front that made it easy to see the people sitting in the restaurant. Mickey told Tim to look for the pervert. Tim looked around at the people in the restaurant. He froze when he saw the man sitting at the counter. Even though Tim could only see him from the side, he knew that was the man, and he would never forget him.

      Mickey asked, “Do you see the son-of-a-bitch?”

      Tim nodded. ”He’s the man sitting at the end of the counter reading the Trib.

      “Alright,” Mickey said. “Peter should be here in a minute. Just sit back and relax.”

      Peter arrived a few minutes later. Mickey told him which person was the pervert. He asked Peter to take Tim home and call the Chicago Police Department precinct commander for Uptown.

      “Tell O’Hara that I plan to make a citizen’s arrest of a pervert that has been harassing one of our boys. I’ll bring him into the station after I have first crack at him.”

      Tim rode in silence with Peter. He dropped Tim at the corner of Racine and Montrose. He drove away after telling Tim to get some rest and forget about what happened. Tim continued to deliver papers for Murphy’s until he started high school. He didn’t see the pervert again, but he would never forget the man’s dark deep-set eyes leering at him in the half light.

      Chapter СКАЧАТЬ