The Nightwalker Page 17

Right after returning to New York, Ava texted Antwone to check on him again. He texted her back even though his initial reaction had been to ignore it.

  Going forward, the absence of the intimacy they once shared was definitely going to jar on his psyche. There was no denying that. He knew that now. And even though he told himself that he was going to be all right, he just didn’t know how long it would take for him to be all right.

  So when Liv invited him to see a play she had a minor role in, Antwone saw the opportunity as a breather, a break from his writing routine and other distracting thoughts. There was still a lot of work to do to complete the book’s last chapter. But he had nothing but time on his hands to do it. Plus, he hadn’t watched a play, this grand artistic form of entertainment, in a very long while. And it reminded him that this was an activity he had done many times with Ava back in New York. And that thought, of course, made him once more dwell on the fact that she was gone.

  He was still a little troubled by their last discussion over the phone. It had gotten in the way of his writing. Everything that he had written from that moment forward was stinking. The words themselves sounded jarring and uninspired. Not the kind of words he would’ve put down had he not been troubled by Ava’s change of heart. But he was hoping things would work out with Hank. He didn’t think he could be her lover again if things didn’t work out with him. In the end, he and Ava would probably make terrific friends, Antwone thought. But that was a thing for the future. Right now, Antwone was happy to see Liv, who he hadn’t seen in a couple days. And to keep pace with his creative impulse, he was happy to see her on the stage where her own creativity would burst and come alive.

  Antwone loved stage plays. He loved the ample movements in them. He loved the energetic flow of the performance and the exquisite symbiosis between the performers who had a remarkable part in creating the magic up on the stage. And luckily for Antwone, Liv’s play, which was titled Up the Alley She Comes, delivered all of what he loved in theatre and more.

  The story centered on a twenty-something destitute girl who, every night at the same hour –– the witching hour –– came down a dark alley to meet with a gutter cat which, in fact, wasn’t a cat but was an incarnation of her deceased younger brother who had died during their childhood in a freak accident. Liv played a pet cat and she hung out with the brother-cat when she wasn’t indoors. She and the actor playing the brother-cat had to wear elaborate costumes to portray these feline creatures. Plus, there were a few more gutter cats involved in the story, antagonistic cats that didn’t hold the brother-cat dearly and they would bristle at the sight of him. Basically, they didn’t want him to prowl around on their territory, the eponymous alley, and that threatened to complicate things for the midnight meeting.

  At some point, the heroine, who also happened to be treated for some mild form of mental illness, found herself involuntarily institutionalized because of her repeated claim that her brother was a cat. The doctor to whom she had confided that information had betrayed her trust.

  The story ended on a positive note as all the cats finally came together and rallied to make the life of the doctor a living hell because he and a colleague had used a few cats as lab rats in the past. The cats basically made the doctor release the heroine from the psych ward.

  Antwone thought it was a wonderful story. And the audience gave it up for the great crop of young actors and actresses who had played their individual part with wit and guts. There was such a standing ovation that the whole cast had to come back out a second time on the stage even after it was already all curtained up.

  Antwone waited for Liv outside in the gorgeous courtyard area. Many people were chatting in an undertone about which parts of the show had stuck with them. Monique had turned out too. She saw Antwone in the crowd. She came over with a boy her age who Antwone didn’t recognize and they chitchatted for a while. She was looking healthier, less waxy than Antwone remembered her. He told her he was glad to see her and, likewise, she told him she was certainly glad to see him.

  She had a pleasant personality and seemed wiser than she looked. Antwone asked her whether she regularly came to the playhouse. She said she wasn’t into theater or any of that garden-variety stage stuff. She had only come out tonight because Liv was her friend and because she had made a promise. Otherwise, she liked movies best because the performances in there were “less in your face.” However, she didn’t fail to mention that she thought Liv had actually been pretty good and she asked Antwone whether he thought the same. Satisfied that he did, Monique said that, being a cat person herself, she thought the whole premise of the play was far-fetched and a little ridiculous at times. Antwone said he understood what she was saying and that there was something called Suspension of Disbelief and she ought to try that to appreciate spectacles that aren’t anchored to reality. Monique laughed at that…

  The playhouse was in Westwood, off Le Conte Avenue and Antwone gathered that two thirds of the crowds were regular visitors. The place was highly frequented and was really worth the visit. And apparently, they only played wonderful shows in the vein of what Antwone had seen tonight.

  Just now, Liv strode out onto the courtyard along with her co-stars and after hugging each one of them good night, she waved at Antwone and Monique.

  “You were a revelation,” Monique said. “A stellar performance you gave us…”

  “You’re too nice,” Liv said. “I’ll believe it though if it comes from Antwone.”

  “You were good,” Antwone said.

  “But not stellar...”

  “You know you’ll get there,” he said. “Only a matter of time.”

  Liv smiled and wrinkled the corners of her eyes at Monique’s companion.

  “And who’s your friend?” she said.

  Monique made the introductions. His name was Marvin. He was in his mid-twenties and, as it happened, he studied contemporary literature and theatre and said he loved every minute of the show.

  “I think we should shove along,” Monique suggested. “You guys are up for drinks?”

  “I’m starving,” Liv said. “I could do with a lot more eating and a lot less drinking tonight. I want to stay awake.” She eyed Antwone. “Care to join me in my eating enterprise?”

  “Of course,” he said. “That sounds like something I could do too.”

  “I know a place,” Marvin said. “They serve terrific food. You’ll love it.”

  Marvin had a car, a nice sports car. They hopped in it and throughout the ride Marvin was very delighted to find out that Antwone was a published writer with a string of successful books to his name.

  Monique was more cool-headed about it though. Reading wasn’t her forte. That was all right. She seemed to have no strong interest in things that interested most people. Mind you, she was far from being a dull girl with a low IQ.

  Antwone reckoned that her wits lay somewhere else; in the knowledge that a simple mind made life simple to live. You could tell she hardly ever suffered any headaches, unlike anyone else leading complicated lives because they had just too many questions on their mind and not enough answers to satisfy them.

  In the car, Monique smiled many times at him and Antwone smiled back at her. He could tell she was all about simplicity, even in the way she interacted with men in general.

  Marvin drove them to a little homey place that specialized in pizzas and craft beverages. A DJ was spinning in the background. They ordered beer with one large pizza with as many as four different toppings for the whole table. Then they got in side dishes to complement the pizza. Antwone got a grilled steak salad and Liv had spaghetti, tomato sauce and shrimp. She was good at rolling up the spaghetti with her fork, it was like watching art unfolding right before your eyes. But she ate like a bird though.

  The place was particularly crowded and noisy that evening, and many times, Monique commented on the fact.

  “What a splendid joint,” she said.

  “A friend of mine brought me here once,” Marv
in said. “A great fellow. We’re like brothers.”

  “Everybody is your brother,” Monique said.

  “What can I say? I love people.”

  “Is it because of a karma thing?” Antwone said.

  “I don’t believe in that stuff.”

  “You should,” Liv said.

  Marvin smiled and shook his head. He had a good face with good hair and good teeth.

  “I believe in loving people because loving is its own reward.”

  “Then here’s to loving.” Monique raised her glassful of beer ceremoniously. Then she downed as much as she could of it. After setting the glass down on the table, she kissed Marvin on the cheek – a loud peck – in the most effusive way, as if she was kissing a child because he’d brought in good grades.

  Marvin blushed, half closing his eyes. Liv had a broad smile painted on her face.

  “Your friend couldn’t come out tonight to the playhouse?” she said after a moment.

  “He’s actually overseas,” Marvin said. “He always talks about how he’ll find his fortune there.”

  “Have you yourself travelled anywhere?” Antwone asked.

  “Oh, that’s not for me. I hate travelling. Everything I want or need is in L.A.” He drank. Then he said. “I love everything about this city and I’d be damned if I left for even just a minute.”

  “Are your parents divorced?” Liv suddenly asked Marvin.

  He looked at her. Antwone couldn’t say whether there was something going on there between them. But he was pretty much sure Monique could tell.

  “No,” Marvin said. “Why?”

  “I just thought I’d take a wild guess.”

  “You often do that,” Marvin said. “Taking wild guesses on people’s life details.”

  “It’s a lot of fun.”

  “So you like to play, huh?”

  “You saw me tonight,” Liv said. “Then you should know.”

  “I wasn’t talking about that kind of play.”

  “I know.”

  Marvin smiled. Antwone saw that Liv was having a good time; he was having a good time just being a spectator at the table.

  “I hope you’ll get a chance to see me perform one day,” Marvin told Liv.

  “Where are you studying?”

  “At the Acting Hub,” Monique replied. “We actually came out from there to see your show. I thought we were going to be late.”

  “It’s like my second home,” Marvin said. “I live and breathe acting. I’m like a fanatic about it. I’ve recently landed a gig in a commercial.”

  “Woah,” Liv said. “Congratulations. It’s so exciting.”

  “Thanks. It’s nothing big but, yes, I’m excited about it.”

  “I bet you are. You’ve done that kind of work before?”

  “No,” Marvin said. “Nothing of this caliber.”

  “It could turn out to be a career booster.”

  “You never know how anything happens in this city.”

  “I know, right…”

  “What’s the most extravaganza character you’ve played so far,” Marvin said, “besides a kitty cat?”

  “An onion,” Liv said and giggled. “But that was like in middle school.”

  Marvin laughed. “You must have been a sight.”

  “A laughing stock, you mean. I was crippled with stage fright.”

  “Poor thing.”

  “Maybe the two of you would like Antwone and I to move to a different table?” Monique asked, trying her best to sound sarcastic.

  “I’m perfectly fine here,” Antwone volunteered.

  “Oh, don’t be like that,” Liv told Monique. “I was just feeling him out for you. I think he’s all right.”

  “Well I’d say I’m flattered to hear that,” Marvin said.

  “You want to hear something else?”

  “Bring it on.”

  Liv furrowed her brow and narrowed her eyes in deep concentration. For about twenty seconds or more, she studied Marvin very intently as if she was looking for a flaw in the configuration of his facial features and Antwone could see that Marvin was becoming more and more intrigued by her prolonged, almost intrusive, stare.

  “I’m pretty sure you have a title on your full name,” she said at the end of her scrutiny.

  “Get out of here,” Marvin exclaimed, totally impressed. “How did you know?”

  “Well it’s on your face.”

  “Are you some kind of one-trick pony?”

  Liv giggled again and glanced at Antwone. He didn’t let on that he was equally impressed by her ability to pick up on something like that.

  “Can I just say you’re awesome?” Marvin continued, his comment nearly bordering on sheer adulation.

  “Oh, you’re such a doll,” Monique said in response. “You know what you remind me of?” Marvin shook his head. “The teddy bear I threw out in a pond when I was six or seven.”

  “That’s about the cutest thing someone has ever said to me.”

  “Just out of curiosity,” Liv said, “just how exactly did the two of you end up together?”

  “Oh, dear...”

  “Is it a long story?”

  “Nope,” Monique said with a naughty smile. “But it’s the kind of story you just don’t tell in public.”

  “Oh, I see. Well, you’ll have to tell me all about it someday.”

  “Yes, someday.”

  An hour or so later, Marvin and Monique prepared to leave. The night was apparently just getting started as they were to meet up with Marvin’s friends at a nightclub. They asked Liv and Antwone to join in but Liv declined. She said she was tired. She said her bed was calling to her. Marvin took his wallet out of his pocket and Antwone told him not to worry about the tab. He would take care of it. They shook hands. Marvin looked at Liv one last time and gave her little nod.

  “How did you do that trick with the title?” Antwone asked Liv after they were alone. “And don’t say it was on his face.”

  Liv smiled.

  “I read it on his calling card,” she replied with simplicity. “It was sitting around in his car, right within my field of view.”

  “That was cunning.”

  Liv grimaced with the satisfaction one gets when they pull a successful trick on a patsy. She then called for a waiter to bring a bottle of water.

  “Why didn’t you want to go with them?” Antwone asked her.

  “Oh, I would have probably ended up flirting with him,” she said. “I feel kind of flirtatious tonight and it always gets me into trouble”

  She was seated across from Antwone. People were still eating in the restaurant. The DJ was still playing music from his booth. Suddenly, Liv leaned forward as if she was a little pie-eyed.

  “Have you ever been in love?” She said.

  Antwone hesitated.

  “Yes,” he said after a moment.

  “Very much in love?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let me guess: it didn’t end well.”

  “Yes, you could say that.”

  “You have such a sensitive face.”

  “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

  “I don’t know; it’s just what it is.”

  “I have trouble understanding you at times,” Antwone said.

  “Oh,” she said, giving Antwone a conspiratorial look. “I think we understand each other very well.”

  “Alright, if you say so.”

  “Though I can hardly say the same about the guys I’ve ever slept with.”

  Antwone considered Liv for a second. She seemed to be not quite herself. A little roused she was perhaps. He could see it in her eyes.

  “Wait,” he said. “You’re not flirting with me, are you?”

  “Well, I don’t think so.”

  “Because it’s a sure way to ruin a friendship.”

  “I thought sex was a sure way to ruin a friendship.”

  “Yes, that too.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Would you feel a lot
easier if I told you that you’re not my type?”

  “Yes. I actually think I would.”

  “All right; I have a confession to make.” Liv leaned in closer toward Antwone. Her arms were crossed on the table. She said in a low voice, “You are not my type.” She added in the same tone, “But I wish you were.”

  Antwone looked over at her and there was no index on her face to suggest that she was simply joking, either way.

  She drank the water the waiter had just brought in and then went on, “Are you seeing someone at the moment?”

  “I was,” Antwone said. “But it didn’t work out.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Oh, you know, it happens…”

  “That’s right, it happens. I’ve been in love, you know, only once though and with the wrong man.”

  “Was it Harlan?”

  “Yes.”

  “How was he with you?”

  “He was only interested in one thing,” she said. “And I was so eager to please him.”

  “We don’t have to talk about it if … um, you know… We don’t have to talk about it.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  Antwone felt compelled to ask her.

  “Was he your first?”

  Apparently, the question struck a funny chord with Liv. Antwone saw her face strain to hold together her quiet, serious composure. But it was useless to resist. Her lips were already curving into the shape of a grin. Then, with her head slowly turned away from Antwone, a plummy laughter rolled out of her mouth from her chest and, mechanically, she jabbed the back of her hand against her mouth to keep herself from laughing out too loud.

  “Why do you suppose he was my first?” she finally said after the laughing had let up.

  “The first time I met you with him, you were quite young.”

  “He wasn’t my first. My first time was terrible actually.”

  “Mine wasn’t terrible,” Antwone said, reminiscing and smiling to himself. “But I wasn’t really ready for the emotional brunt that comes with it. It dried up my joints and I remember being thirsty throughout the whole time.”

  Liv smiled to show that she appreciated their little intimate conversation. She then became posture conscious and took her arms down from the table.

  “It’s a dangerous thing to give yourself to someone out of love,” she said. “I’m hoping not to have to do that ever again.”

  “Well whatever you decide to do with yourself, I’m sure one day you’re going to make some lucky person a very happy man.”

  “I doubt that very much.”

  “I don’t think I’ve met anyone quite like you.”

  “Please,” Liv said, “you’re going to make me blush.”

  After they left the restaurant, they walked around a few blocks while looking to grab a taxi. They had to stop at an intersection because Liv was tired and didn’t feel like taking another footstep. She told Antwone it was either that or he’d have to carry her. They waited for a taxi, talking less and less, and Liv leaned on his arm to rest. When the taxi finally came around, they got in, slammed the door and Antwone gave the driver the address of Liv’s apartment.

  Throughout the ride, Liv had her eyes closed. And whenever talked to, she would talk back with a lisp as if to signify that because she was worn out the words were becoming heavier to articulate in such condition. Antwone took her hint and silence befell them. Liv leaned against the corner of her seat and didn’t move from that position. From time to time, Antwone would train an eye on her shadowy form, searching her face in the lights from the open shops, just to see whether she was deep in sleep or just deep in thought. Unable to tell either way, he would then look out the window on his side and slowly become thoughtful himself. And as they drove in the dark and comfy quietness of the cabin, the city around them was alight and noisy. Antwone reckoned that L.A. had a distinct voice in the night which was totally different in the day.

  Finally, as they stepped down from the taxi in front of the apartment building, Liv appeared less tired. He walked her up to the steps of the entrance door. The night was deep and warm. And now they stood mostly in the semidarkness of the porch roof.

  “Well,” Antwone said, “it was a wonderful time.”

  “Yes it was.”

  “Drink tea or something before you go to bed.”

  “You want to come up?” Liv said. Antwone realized then that she was looking at him in a way she hadn’t before. And for an instant, he caught himself looking at her the same way, as if there was no other person in the world he would have rather looked at.

  “My roommate is sleeping out tonight,” Liv said.

  She took his hand inside hers. Her fingers were a little shaky.

  “It’s best if we do not go there, Liv,” Antwone said.

  His words fell on deaf ears because next thing he knew they were kissing at the door. His hands closed around her callow-looking face and, feeling himself lose the battle against her tender lips, Antwone pushed her away.

  “No,” he said. “You’re tired, Liv. And this is not going to end well.”

  Liv looked at him. Her eyes, two shiny balls cut out of a watery stone, were speaking to him in a language that only the soul could understand.

  “Then let’s write together a better ending,” she whispered. She pressed herself against him and kissed him again. Without much conviction, Antwone tried to push her again. Then she said, “I want this and you want me; I can feel it. I could pretend to be Mitzi if that helps––”

  Right then, Antwone darted Liv with a thorny look which made her flinch. It was as if some light had suddenly switched off behind his eyes, for they were dark and when you looked into them, you looked into empty darkness.

  “I have to go,” he said suddenly. He pulled himself away from Liv’s embrace.

  “What? Wait, where are you going?”

  “Go home, Liv.”

  “Antwone…”

  “Just go home.”

  Liv reached out to stop him as he was stomping away from the building. Antwone madly turned on her.

  “I want to be alone, all right?” he said. “Can you do that? Can you leave me alone?”

  He turned his back on her and left. Even his back was rigid. The tone of his voice had been icy cold. And it had scared Liv. Appalled, she stood there on the curb and watched him go down the street, in the dark, all by himself.

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