14
“I still can’t believe you talked me into this,” Jimmy says, biting his fingernails and shaking his head.
“Stop worrying, dude! This girl rarely gets to leave the hospital. I can’t sit in that goddamn room with her any longer; she needs to get out.”
“I get that, but this plan of yours is going to put us both behind bars. Can’t you volunteer to take her to a movie this weekend, or for a slice of pizza?”
“Stop being so neurotic! As long as you stay calm and stick to the plan everything is going to work out.”
“I have every right to be neurotic, Max!” he fights back. “This is crazy! And what the fuck happens if I get caught?”
“If you get caught?” I say. “Well, if you get caught you tell the nurse or doctor that catches you that you write for the New York Post and you’re doing an investigative piece on cancer hospitals.”
“You’re out of your fucking mind.”
“Listen,” I shout, turning to face him. “If you don’t wanna’ be a part of this then fine, go the fuck home; I’ll just wait and ask Kenny to do it. But I swear to God, the next time you come running to me cause’ you need to borrow a hundred bucks to pay back your bookie, you can forget about it.”
“Alright, alright.”
His job is simple; it didn’t require a fancy college degree, an unpaid internship or years of experience. But just like every other night before, Big stands tall and proud at the back entrance of the hospital.
“What up, Big?”
“My man. What’s good?” he says, pulling me in for a handshake and a hug.
“You know‐ same shit, different day. This is my roommate, Jimmy. He’s helping out with this little mission of mine.”
“You’re a good friend,” Big says, giving Jimmy a fist bump.
“I do what I can,” Jimmy sighs, looking back at me.
“I’m tellin’ you Max, if you guys get caught, I never knew about this little plan of yours. I can’t afford to lose my job, so please leave me out of this if shit hits the fan.”
“Don’t worry, Big, I’ve got a bulletproof plan. And if things go awry your name will never be mentioned-‐ I swear to you. I’ll be back down with Maya in a few minutes. Hang tight.”
“Famous last words,” Big says.
“This way,” I instruct Jimmy as we make our way through the back entrance of the hospital.
Sneaking myself into Maya’s room was one thing, but sneaking the both of us into 2A without raising suspicion requires an even greater level of stealth and craftiness. Of course, Jimmy sneezes three times in succession as we make our way through the doctor’s locker area; timing was never his thing.
“Anyone home?” I say, tapping lightly on Maya’s door.
“Max!” she shouts, pulling her bed sheets up to her face. “You plan on having an orgy or something?”
“You’re sick,” I laugh. “Maya, this is Jimmy, my roommate.
“Nice to meet you, Jimmy,” she says. “Sorry I can’t shake your hand. I’ve got the cancer and it might be contagious‐ I don’t wanna’ give it to you.”
Jimmy laughs nervously.
“Don’t freak him out, Maya. Jimmy’s going to help me execute my plan.”
“Max, please tell me what the hell’s going on?” she pleads.
“We’re getting you out of this hospital for a little while. I’m sorry, but I refuse to sit here watching trashy reality television with you for the third time this week. It’s too nice outside tonight to stay in this room.”
“You’re outta’ your goddamn mind,” she says.
“That’s what I’ve been telling him for the past hour,” Jimmy blurts, finally breaking his silence.
“Will the both of you just shut the fuck up? Maya, put this hat on. And put on a pair of sneakers. You and I are going to sneak out through the back entrance. I already gave Big the heads up.”
“And what’s Jimmy going to do?” Maya asks, readjusting the hat to fit her shiny, bald head.
“Jimmy is going to hop into that bed of yours and pull the blankets up to his chin. He’ll face the window and pretend to sleep in case one of the nurses walks by your room.”
“That’s your plan?” she asks.
“Yes, and it’s going to work. Look at him,” I say, pointing to Jimmy. “He’s built like a ten-‐year-‐old girl and he’s just as bald as you. This is going to work.”
“You’re just gonna’ let him boss you around like that?” she asks him.
“He doesn’t have a choice,” I intervene before Jimmy can respond. “He owes me one.”
I stand by the door as a lookout while Maya changes her clothes and Jimmy makes his way under the covers.
“Perfect, Jimbo. Just stay in that position and don’t move a muscle until we get back.”
“I can’t do this,” Maya starts to cry. “Look at me‐ I look like a skeleton. These sweatpants won’t even stay around my waist without falling down.”
“Maya, you’re beautiful,” I say, walking over to her. “Here, let me do it.”
I tie her sweatpants in a quadruple knot and cuff each pant leg twice for extra support. I kiss her on the cheek and take her by the hand.
Carefully, I guide Maya through the back entrance of the hospital.
“You have her back here before midnight,” Big demands as we power walk towards First Avenue.
“I can’t believe you talked me into this, Max.”
“I’m a very good convincer.” I shoot her a much‐exaggerated wink.
“Perv. So what’s the game plan? Museum? Circus? Concert at MSG?”
“We’re going back to my apartment to make love, actually. Is that cool?”
“You’re sick,” she laughs. “Don’t even joke like that. I’ll scream rape if you put your dirty hands anywhere near my lady parts.”
“I’m just fuckin’ with ya’. Stay right here, I gotta’ run into the grocery store real quick.”
“Bag of Cheetos,” she instructs. “The crunchy kind, not those bullshit puffy ones.”
“Crunchy it is. I’ll be right back!”
She smiles, her eyes big and beautiful, as I make my way out of the Upper East Side grocery story, plastic bag in hand.
“You look cute just sitting here,” I tell her.
“Oh, stop it, Maxwell. That’s not gonna’ get me back to your apartment any quicker. Cheetos, please,” she says, holding out both hands like a starving hobo.
“Cheetos for you and four dozen eggs for me.”
“Jesus Christ, Max! What kind of sick shit are you into?”
“What? You said you enjoyed shooting things.”
“Yes, I enjoy shooting things with a gun. But what the hell does that have to do with eggs?”
“I figured we would go for a joy ride, throw some eggs at people, maybe hit up a few bodegas.”
“Are you serious?”
“Why not? Life’s short, right?”
“Maybe you do need to start drinking again,” she sighs.
“Maybe, but not tonight. Now tell me, what part of Manhattan do you hate the most?”
“Hmmm,” she contemplates. “I never really liked the boys that live in Murray Hill.”
“Good choice,” I smirk. “Let’s do it.”
I hail a taxi on the corner of 66th and second.
“My good man,” I say, getting into the backseat of the cab. “We’re going to need you to drive back and forth between Second Avenue and Lexington, specifically in the Murray Hill area.”
“Do you have a particular destination?” he asks in his broken English accent.
“I do not. My friend and I are looking to throw these eggs at people from the back of this cab. Is this a feasible plan of action?”
Maya struggles to hold back her laughter.
“I cannot do that, sir,” he says, pulling the cab over into the bus lane.
“I understand, but you have to do this for me. It would mean so much to my friend and I.”
“I cannot do that, sir,” he repeats. “Throwing eggs from my vehicle is not permitted.”
“Fine,” I say, reaching for my wallet. “Would you permit it if I offered you this hundred dollar bill?”
“What the hell are you doing?” Maya whispers.
“Yes, yes I would,” he complies.
And just like that, the cabbie puts the car into drive and heads down Second Avenue towards Murray Hill.
We drive around the neighborhood Maya despises most. And with sniper-‐like precision, she hurls egg after egg at the innocent bystanders roaming the streets, each of her throws harder and more violent than the last. Her coordination and arm strength is quit remarkable for a girl in her physical and mental state; she manages to hit most of her targets with ease, impressing not only me but the cab driver as well.
Watching her smile, ear to ear, as she tosses the eggs at her unsuspecting victims reminds me just how precious and silly life could be. If I could bottle up this moment and stay in it forever, I would. Her smile, her laugh, her enthusiasm, it’s more than contagious. The cabbie smiles back at me in the rearview when he realizes how full of life Maya has suddenly become.
Maya wasn’t just throwing eggs at the over-‐privileged kids living in Murray Hill; she was throwing eggs at all the hollow bullshit she had dealt with in her past. This would be her final Fuck You to the man, a curtain call for the history books, and she wasn’t going to be satisfied until all four dozen eggs were gone.
Maya wasn’t a mean-‐spirited girl, that adolescent stage ended in high school,long before she ever got sick. She wasn’t cruel or malicious or looking to hurt anyone. Maya enjoyed pushing the limits, flipping the bird to the social norms she didn’t agree with and having a good time in between. She was the classiest and smartest rebel I had ever met; at the drop of a hat Maya could manipulate her premeditated acts of havoc to appear as mere oversights. Oooops, she would say in an obnoxiously girly tone once her cover was blown. Unbeknownst to her gullible victim‐ Oooops actually meant Fuck You in Maya’s language. She knew what she wanted and she rarely let anyone, or anything get in her way.
“Fuck you, cancer!” she roars, chucking an egg at a young couple holding hands.
“Fuck you, Seth Simon!” she howls, throwing two eggs at once in the direction of a parked ambulance.
“Who the fuck is Seth...”
“Fuck you, Dr. Rosenkrantz!” she screams, completely ignoring my inquiry.
“Fuck you, radiation!”
“Fuck you, chemotherapy!”
“Fuck you, chemo-‐brain!”
“Fuck you, CT scan!”
“Fuck you, constipation!”
“Fuck you, MRI machine!”
“Fuck you, Nurse Ratchet!”
“Fuck you, alternative medicine brochures!”
“And fuck you, death!” she howls at the top of her lungs.
“Jesus Christ, Maya! You just hit a cop car, and I think there was a cop in it!”
“Oooops,” she shruggs.
“You’ve lost your goddamn mind.”
“Guess what, Max?”
“What?”
“Fuck you!” she bellows, smashing the final egg on top of my head.
“Maya! What the fuck?” I shout, trying my hardest to hold back my laughter.
“Ok, ok-‐ fun time over,” the cabbie exclaims. “I take you home now.”
“Yes!” Maya shouts. “Take us home; take us back to this guy’s apartment!”
“Maya, we have to get you back to the hospital. It’s getting late.”
She gives me that look.
“Wh-‐what, Maya? It’s getting late,” I protest.
“Max, I have cancer. Don’t you dare tell me it’s getting late. It’s always getting late for me.”
“Sir, back to my apartment,” I swiftly instruct.
Maya smiles and makes a half-‐ass attempt at wiping the slimy egg yolk from the top of my head with a handful of tissues she had found on the floor of the cab.
“Ew, stop!” I demand, pushing her hands away from me.
“What? Would you rather sit here with egg on your head, egg head?” she laughs.
“Very funny, Maya! And no, I wouldn’t. But I also don’t want used tissues
anywhere near my face.”
“Oh, stop being such a pussy,” she sighs. “Come here.”
I throw the driver an extra twenty for the egg incident. I might have just taken the most expensive cab ride in the history of New York City but it is worth every last penny.
“Jimmy’s gonna’ kill me,” I mumble to myself, as we make our way into the entrance of my building. “And if we get caught...”
“Stop worrying, Max. I’m the one that’s supposed to be scared of getting caught, not you! Just go with the flow.”
“Easier said then done.”
“How many flights up?” she asks. “I’m too sick to walk.”
“Hop on, pretty lady,” I say, motioning her over for a piggyback ride. “You’re lucky I’ve been going to the gym so much lately.”
“Is this it?” she says.
“Yes, it is-‐ home sweet home.”
“Apartment 3M,” she smiles. “Like in Maya!”
“Like in Maya.”
We make our way into my pitch-‐black apartment. Kenny is most likely in his room passed out and Jimmy, well, Jimmy is still playing hide‐and‐go‐seek in the oncology ward of a hospital only a few blocks north.
“HA! Is this a headshot?” she says, pointing to the eight by ten picture hanging next to the dartboard.
“Shhhhh,” I instruct her, “my other roommate is sleeping. And yes, that’s my headshot.”
“For what?
“Acting.”
“HA!” she laughs again, even louder. “What kind of acting? Gay porn?”
“Yes, Maya, gay porn,” I mock her. “Now shut up and let me give you the tour.”