Billy and Alicia meet by chance on the Staten Island Ferry CHAPTER ELEVEN

 It was William's day off, that day consisting of Tuesday afternoon till Wednesday shift change. He lives in a tiny room furnished with a skinny mattress on a sagging spring bed. The walls are pea soup colored with splotches of mold. The room smells a bit like sugary shit. A musty smell. It's on 142nd near Third Avenue, not far from the Six Train and the Bx 15 Bus. He shares a bathroom with two other roomers he doesn't want anything to do with.. He has no kitchen privileges. He lives on Chinese vegetable soup (with noodles and soy sauce) that he's in the habit of ordering from one of the ubiquitous fast food Chinese restaurants that sell more fried chicken wings than anything else and The Greek's burgers and The Greek's scrambled eggs and toast. Billy, as he's sometimes called, had a few extra bucks so he caught the iron horse down to the Staten Island Ferry to take a ride and do some photography. He sleeps with his camera and zoom lens under his pillow. He took a seat on the outside deck because it was warm, Billy gazed out at New York Harbor for the sixtieth and unmpity dump time. Someone was tapping him on the shoulder. Billy turned around and there was licia. She asked if she could sit next to him. Billy's heart was in his throat. "Yeh Yeah Yeah, sure" he stammered. Alicia made small talk about how small the world was because she was on her way to visit her mother on Staten Island and who should she meet but "the poet". 

 Billy's just sitting there playing with his thumbs. Looking this way and that way. Absolutely an incredible woman. People are turning to glance at her and the older skinhead looking dude who has the pleasure of her company. She's dressed in jeans (not too tight) and a pink fluffy sweater. She's wearing new sneakers and white socks. Casual. Billy's about to pass out what with her scent, something like strawberry, and her face, her eyelashes, her pout and her breasts. Sitting next to him. Talking to him because that's what she wants to do. "It's a good thing I ran into you because I would never look for you," she said. "I can't get over that poem you gave me. What's up with that?" Here Billy does a Jackie Gleason imitation but he isn't trying to imitate anyone, he's flustered. He says something like "a hammina hamminah hammiha, hmmm...." Then he clears his throat and tells her he wrote it himself which is a lie. Pablo Neruda provided the template. He's dripping sweat now and smells himself. Overripe. Yikes. 

 She goes on, "I have never been come onto in just that way, and I've been come onto a lot. I was a stripper. I was in porn. A man once crashed his car watching me cross a street, so yeah I happen to know that yeah I have got 'the stuff'. Not like I couldn't like you ever, you remind me of a good father. Are you married? Are you healthy? What do you want with me? Aren't you too old for me?" and then the gut punch: "Are you gonna be driving someone else's taxicab for the rest of your life"? Her words had a strange echoing quality. Blackness was closing in on Billy's rapidly narrowing field of vision. Billy's face felt hot, almost burning, as more people turned to watch and eavesdrop on their conversation. He felt like he was dripping fiery sweat. Everything got black. Billy woke up in the emergency room at Staten Island Hospital. There was an IV in his arm and he was alone. A nurse came up to his bed (he was in a ward) and asked him who the President was and he answered correctly "Not Bob Grant." The nurse laughed. "You're a real live one, huh." They x-rayed him, ran a bunch of tests, took his blood and told him to go home, get some rest and see his private doctor in two days. The nurse said that he seemed to be okay and that they didn't find anything wrong with him. Private doctor. That's a laugh. There was no one to take him back home. No one at home to look after him either. Alicia had not stayed with him. "I'm the one always saying 'life is good'" but at that moment Billy didn't think so. Instead of going to his room Billy came to the garage, looked around and then left. He sat down on the curb in front of The Greek's. She walked up to him. "I'm sorry I left you there at the ambulance. They said if I'm not next of kin I couldn't come with you. I visited my mom like I planned to. Are you okay?"

 "Yeah they say I'm okay. They don't know why I passed out. But I'm okay." "Listen do you live alone?" "Yeah." "That's no good." His heart was beating fast again. "I have a friend, a neighbor. She was looking for someone to share the rent. She could set you up in her living room. She has a kid, a little girl. A good girl. School's starting soon so there won't be too much noise. My friend lives across the hall and works in the night time. This way you won't be alone. If something happens again or if you're just lonesome at least there's someone to talk to. Maybe if you help out you could eat with us. We eat dinner together like a family. Might be a nice change for you."

 "I'll think about it. You'll have to introduce us." 

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