Tony found Maynard in the living room of Walter Pynchon’s destroyed apartment watching something odd on the TV.
“What are you watching?” Tony asked.
“Something called The Unbearable Lightness of Being,” Maynard replied dully.
His expression was fixed on the program. He did not look at Tony. That was Maynard, focused to the point of seeming "special."
Tony looked at Maynard for a really long time.
“No shit. The Unbearable Lightness of Being, huh?” Tony replied with an odd combination of sarcasm and genuine interest.
“Yeah,” Maynard said continuing to watch the TV.
Again, silence fell between them underscoring Tony’s gaze.
“Why are you watching The Unbearable Lightness of Being?” Tony asked.
“It’s the only DVD dude has. They broke the cable box,” Maynard replied still staring at the TV.
“True,” Tony said lightly. “Are you enjoying The Unbearable Lightness of Being?” Tony asked. This time the sarcasm was straight up.
“Not really. This guy, Tomas, tries to make it with every chick he meets, and this woman, Tereza, keeps trying to tie his ass down, and then the Russians start trying to take over Czechoslovakia, pissing everybody off,” Maynard reported, pointing at the TV as he did so. He looked at Tony. “That sounds like a cool story, but watching it is like waiting in the doctor’s office and lookin’ at magazines you don’t like, for a real long time.”
“Sounds like The Unbearable Lightness of Being should’ve had Kimmy Granger in it workin’ some powerhouse hardcore,” Tony offered. He sat down on the couch next to Maynard and pulled a cigarette out of a box in his shirt pocket. Something wooden, deep within the couch, weakened by rough treatment and unable to support any more weight, finally broke with a loud snap. Not at all shocked by the sound, Tony tapped his cigarette several times on the face of his watch and put it in his mouth, but did not light it.
“Maybe, and Arnold with a rail gun blowing the shit out of a bunch a Russians.” Maynard said, his voice betraying a wish to see their version of the movie instead of this one.
The two men sat in silence and watched the remaining minutes of the DVD.Unseen by the men, an angel slowly navigating the wreckage littering the apartment, left the room, having already seen the movie.
“So, that was The Unbearable Lightness of Being, huh?” Tony said, pretending to smoke his unlit cigarette. “That was some boring shit.” He stood, with some effort, from the broken couch. He was a thin, muscular man, but physical fitness is no match for a floppy, broken couch.
Maynard was thick like a giant pit bull. He tried to stand up from the couch, but fell back. “Help me up, Tony,” he asked. “They really did a number on this place,” he added looking around the room.
“I got a hold of Betty when I went to the Skip Mart for smokes. The other body’s not here.” Tony said flatly, as he helped Maynard up from the couch. “I guess we better pack up the one in the bedroom.”
“I did it already,” Maynard said, a slight trace of sadness drifting through his deep voice.
"No shit, really? I didn’t mean to be gone that long, you should’ve waited,” Tony said apologetically.
“It’s okay. She was small. I put her in there,” Maynard explained, pointing to a large suitcase by the door. “I didn’t need the reciprocating saw. She leaked a bit from both ends when I folded her up, but the new cleaning stuff worked real good. I got the area around the bed and the wall. I used the tracer and the black light on the rest of the place and it’s clean. I used the sheets to wrap her in before I put her…” he said, his voice trailing off to some place far away from the apartment.
About six hours ago, she was really pretty, with warm, chocolate brown eyes. Now she’s luggage, Tony thought, his mind struggling to digest all of this. This job was the ass end of the Caprino family business. Chasing the Grim Reaper and cleaning up after the enforcers was their challenge. Sometimes the job left him with the feeling that all of his atoms were disconnecting slowly, barely holding a loose orbit just a slight distance from their normal position. At times like this, he felt as though air passed through him.
“Tony, I know it’s a little out of the way, but would you mind if we took her to Elm Point?” Maynard asked. Maynard, the eternal eleven-year-old kid turning forty next week sought some peaceful resting place for the stranger in the suitcase. “It’s nice there.”
Tony’s atomic structure drifted quickly back into place rendering him solid again. He studied Maynard for a moment. This gig was it for the night. Only a doughnut and a well-fed guinea pig named Al waited for him. Elm Point was about twelve miles out of town, but it was pretty nice there. A small lake spooned a beautifully manicured park like a sleepy lover. Little kids fed ducks pieces of stale bread while joggers studied each other’s hot asses as they ran along the path by the lake. Tony once enjoyed the blowjob of a lifetime on a bench there. It was a good place. However, it was not in the plan. The incinerator at Trevor Memorial Hospital was in the plan. “Where at Elm Point?” he asked.
“The new amphitheater. The concrete work is still going on. We could put the suitcase under one of the plywood support molds. It’ll get covered over tomorrow. Lenny’s the construction supervisor. I’ll tell him to make sure and hit it first thing,” Maynard explained. He had given this a fair amount of thought while watching the movie. “Lenny’s never let us down. He owes me a favor, anyway.”
The little voice in Tony’s gut that usually warned him of doom and stupidity was silent. He mapped out the route to Elm Point in his mind. It was actually a slightly safer move than the hospital. The police didn’t routinely patrol the roads that connected the high-dollar neighborhoods on the way to the park. As an added bonus, the boss would not know the location of the body and that was a good thing. He was on to the incinerator. If called on it, he would be lying when he denied his knowledge of the place. This change in plans would spare the old man a sin. “Sure,” Tony said. “We’ll take her to Elm Point. She’d probably have gone there for the concert schedule anyway. She’ll have the best spot in the place now.”
Maynard started toward the suitcase, but Tony stopped him. “I’ll get her,” Tony said. “You did the hard stuff.”
“She’s about a hundred even with the suitcase,” Maynard warned. “I figured,” Tony said with a wink.
Together, cleaners and corpse moved to the door of Walt’s wrecked apartment.
“Hold up a sec,” Maynard said. He moved quickly to the TV, ejected The Unbearable Lightness of Being from the DVD player, put the disc in its case and slipped the case into the inside pocket of his black, Armani jacket.
Tony, still holding the suitcase, winced at his odd partner. “You enjoyed The Unbearable Lightness of Being, didn’t you?”
“Nah, I just didn’t get to check out the special features,” Maynard said, completely serious.
E. H.
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