Sweet Jesus Read Free

night he dreamt about sharing a doughnut with Fenton, and the next day didn’t know whether or not this had actually happened.
    The L-train was coming.
    He saw the silver square of its flat face shift slightly from one side to the other and knew that it was barrelling down the tracks. The screech of its brakes as it came into the station was an angry lament that reminded him of his own frustration. Zeus got on the train and stood by the doors. Dressed even as he was, most people didn’t seem to notice him. He was always stunned by what other people ignored. He tried to cheer himself up by pulling a pocket watch, the size of a cup saucer, out of his pants and opening it up. A small brown terrycloth dog, perched on top of a flexible wire and attached at the base to a wind-up mechanism, sprung up and flew around in circles, chasing its own tail. Zeus shrugged and closed the lid and wound it up again. He leaned away from his pocket and, holding it open, lowered the watch by its chain back into his pants. This normally got a laugh. Sometimes someone would throw a few coins at his feet and he would make a show of fawning over the money, clasping his hands together against his chest like an ardent suitor in a silent film, but never stooped to pick it up.
    Halfway to the hospital, a man got up from his seat and lumbered towards the doors. When the train stopped, he swung out onto the platform, hesitated, then swung back into the train. Zeus thought the man must be drunk, but he smelledreassuringly of aftershave. The man sat down again. His dark hair was pulled back into a short comma at the base of his skull, and he wore a gold corduroy jacket over a white shirt with a maroon tie. He removed a bottle of cologne from his pocket. A cut-glass bottle with a German label in blue and gold. He yanked off the atomizer nozzle and took a swig. Now Zeus realized the man’s hands were dirty, his fingernails cracked. His clothes were scruffy and stained. Zeus had let his sense of smell obscure his eyes. This was an observation Fenton would normally appreciate, but Zeus wondered if he’d even bother telling him when he got back home tonight. He felt a pang of something like feeling sorry for Fenton, but then he recoiled. You can’t pity a clown. As soon as you pity a clown, he’s done for.
    Zeus was two stops from the hospital now and an argument had broken out between the guy drunk on German cologne and a wiry young man with an enormous gym bag. The young man jumped up and yanked the older guy’s corduroy sleeve. Come on, he said, that’s enough. Get the hell outta here. The drunk man was pressing his cologne bottle against the collarbone of a dark-eyed woman sitting next to him. She looked frightened and harassed. Put some of this on your pussy, he said. Might freshen you up.
    The young man said, That’s it, and pulled the older man up and dragged him to the doors and pushed him out as soon as they opened. The man braced himself in the doorway, one last arc of protest, his gold jacket flaring open like the wings of a moth. The young man kicked him in the back of the legs and he fell out of the train. Zeus saw him land on his shoulder, his face like a wedge, shoved between his momentum and the platform. That’s gotta hurt, someone said. The man lay still for a moment amid the indifferent traffic of busy feet. Then he picked himself up proudly and made his way to the exit. Helifted his leg as if his foot was encased in cement and, listing backwards – his hand shooting out for the railing – descended onto the first step of the stairwell. Zeus heard a whole stadium applaud. The doors slid shut and the L-train moved down the track. The young fitness enthusiast who had thrown the man out turned around. He had sweat on his upper lip. He looked at Zeus – the wig, the wide eyes. Got a staring problem?
    You talking to me? Zeus said and raised his eyebrows.
    You look ridiculous.
    Thank you very much, Zeus said politely, and the painted birds