I Don’t Know Where Ramona
Is Now
By John Rogan
I’m 46. I don’t
know where Ramona is now. When I last seen her she was crying during nights.
The halfway house give me pills. No junk. Not for two weeks now. Social worker
all nice teeth say I’m doing great. I out halfway house and at meeting A.A. in
Franklin Park. But I actually took the Red Line to Park Street. I get money off
nice dude opening wallet on and walk to Downtown crossing. The leaves sway with
the breeze the way me mom said goodnight.
Soft
breath “Goodnight”
Soft breath “Goodnight”
The money fell out when Dad lost it. Dad all snapping at
little things. Mom sitting on the long couch. Her knees swollen. Mom long time
up in Boston General. A lot of money. Dad in an old folks place in Worcester.
Both cancer. Long time ago now. Before Dad was sick we go and visit Mom. Little
hospital gift shops. Dad all nervous quiet about finding a parking spot. The
live-in nurse was from the Caribbean. I would be up late all night upset over nothing.
Soft breath “Goodnight”
Things packed up so fast with Mom, Dad, and brother. Last
I seen Ramona was 3 years ago but she was always upset and crying. Brother
don’t talk to me. Army man on Fort somewhere. Mom Dad gone before I knew what.
My brother got the know-how from my Dad. Called me unreasonable with. It was
gone before I got to know what. He charge me with coward. We don’t talk. He
don’t send money like he used. He got big happy Army family I guess. Last I
seen him when we sold the house. Last I seen my brother like black-and-white
days. Smoke-inside days with big engines in cars. He was at a base during me
and Ramona’s wedding. Scattered to country after mountain range. Called me fool
over static phone. Fool. Very like him. I don’t see why he like getting told
what to do. I told him so. He tell me I was irresponsible. Unreasonable with. I
tell him on static phone meet my family. I meet yours. Like when Mom and Dad
was still fighting alive. He don’t have it. Me and Ramona was good then. Long
time ago. All the people go every which way. Brother in airplane over
Antarctica could be. Mom worms. Dad worms. Ramona. I don’t know what Ramona is
doing now.
Slumped against Macy’s I get hot dog and Olde English 40
down. Burp and all the people walking every which way through Downtown
Crossing. All their stories all their voices get soft. No mean, gnarling,
stricken voices. Happy people all going their separate ways. To safe happy places.
The voices so soft like music. They own private places. Sun-light bending soft
since end of day. Trash kick around the curb in the wind. Mom soft breath
“Goodnight”
Last I heard Ramona moved down to Florida. I heard she
had a family. I heard from someone else she was still in town. I heard she OD’d
in Manchester, New Hampshire. I heard she was living in Everett. I heard she
was sober. I heard a baby finally worked for her. I heard she would come find
me if she could. I heard she was a programmer at Google in San Francisco. I
heard she found a rich man. Junkies talk a lot a stuff. Three years ago was
when I last spoke with her. Voices kicking up all mean and nasty now calm booze
floating away. I walked to South
Station to take a dump. Washed my face in the sink with business-suit-guys
going home. It was around 6 p.m. White blips came out of the big crowds taking
trains. Each voice settling down a different tone to reflect all the different
paths. I got money for a bus ticket. White blipping snarls were coming out of
the guy’s eyes when he gave me the money. When I get like this and the voices
start being seen I have to take my pills. I get scared and pee. Grim little
faces screaming white light when I turn. A group of commuters with briefcases
step away from me and go “ewwww.” Ramona left on a train. She was at Rosie’s
Place with other beat-up women. The Social Worker called the police when I went
to the office. Violation of parole again. The Social Worker got all outraged
about telling me where she was. Ramona was in a program, I knew. I heard that
program was in Wyoming.
I went under the turnstiles in South Station and the dude
just shake his head. He know me. Come out his glass box and yelling about MBTA
cops. I already in car on way to Broadway. At Broadway I slink in with the
crowd onto the back of a Green Line train to Fenway. The train breaks is like
pressure building. I got money for Old Ray for I know what but I don’t want to
tell myself.
Years ago and young, I met Ramona some ugly
Persian from Lawrence starts beating on her in Triple O’s on Columbus. Ramona
gets right on this guy. He all bloody nose. She yelling in Spanish. I had to
get her off and keep her away. My parents were still alive. Me and My brother
still talked then. So I bought her a drink. She was emotional all over the
place. Upset and then happy in one second all over the same thing. She had long
wavy hair that puffed up in the heat. The Persian dude came back later all high
and said some nasty stuff. I put the Persian guy out. I knew the bouncer Timmy
and we broke the Persian’s left hand. I was fucked-up, but Timmy was yelling
about what they did to thief’s hands in their country. So this is all young me
and my brother still talking. Mom and Dad around. No cancer. Ramona a real handful.
We were living together at the South Street Apartments in Jamaica Plain.
Junkies everywhere. Ramona go hard at the stuff. Ramona went hard at
everything. Everybody always telling her to calm down. Every morning that dirty
smoke and her shaking with her rotting teeth. Last week underneath where Pine
Street Junkies live under the highway they found dead junkie who sound like
Ramona. I got call from Frank over at Pine Street Inn looking to ID the body. I
come all the way form Somerville. Get in fight on bus. Get kicked off bus.
Wonder if Ramona gone forever. Wonder if Ramona body stop moving where she be.
Dead junkie is some Chinese girl.
I
off at Fenway and I make for the Fens where Old Ray sleeps and string up some
Money from Northeastern kids and Berklee and Symphony rich hippies. All
peolpe,on sidewalks is like light
condensed in stars. People people but they energy come spilling out into the
black that is space. A starry night to you look twinkly dotted and they black
spots. A group of people to me have all that light for the stars filling in and
running around that empty space. So you see nothing around people. I see their
voice, their energy. Whatever it is that flows out of a person I see. All the
kids at Symphony and Northeastern smiling and talking and the open space gets
filled in. Light catches and snarls. I start to get scared. I can’t stop
peeing. They won’t let me use the bathroom in Burger King. Need a key. The big
manager yelling all mean. Everything floating out of him nasty and snarled jolting
with the fluorescent lights. I pee all over the tile floor. I get real upset
when he throw me out. I crying, peeing and hitting him. He calling police
and I running for the Fens.
We
both go at it too hard back in South Street Apartments. My brother get mad.
Ramona preganant and still going hard. Mom real sick and Dad starting to.
Brother all mad said he doing everything. He know I see light from people. “A
lot of changes,” I say to him one day all cotton- mouthy. Brother look at me
grave and get more into the Army. I upset about Mama and smoked- out crack baby
on way. Ramona light fly up against the wall and make like worms across my
brain. Everyday with Ramona. Her big pretty hair and soft boobs yelling at me. Then
I got too fucked up and Social Services come saying I’m been put in mental
hospital, so I fight officer. Neighbors called. Ramona all bruised. Face
swollen. Baby miscarriage. I started living at halfway house and getting
checked on. Courts wouldn’t let me see Ramona no more.
Old
Ray up on his shoulder. He got free syringes. He say good to see me again. We
in long grass that snake along the dirty little water in the Fens. Grass up
over my head. All people switching around. I ask Ray and he say he heard Ramona
in Colorado. She could be in town he say too. With the grass over my head the
light is making patterns on the sky. Sun down but sky bright. Shadows when I
start to cook. Pulling the plunger out I see light. The light like when my mom
and dad pulled up in a station wagon with my brother for elementary-school
play. All us together. Smiling with no force pulling us apart. I said hi to my
brother and he liked me and it was that simple. Mom wondered where I was, dying
in her hospital bed. I wonder water sizzling evaporating on the spoon with brown.
If each action. Each choice. Made people go where they went. Away. Like I do
shot now and everything is one way. I
throw shot away and everything is another way. All the people come smiling in
on me again. Inviting me to parties. Throwing me birthdays. I hate the pills
for voice’s lights. Ramona in a shelter in Rhode Island someone said. Ramona
back home in the DR, someone else. With all the sliding lights and voices
crashing into one another it’s works into a frenzy in the soft night sky. Low
clouds holding the last sets of sun. The city’s energy bouncing off the
sidewalks and up into clouds. I find my vein. I look one last time at Ramona’s
soft face, red lips holding fury, hair all big and curly when it’s hot. My
brother dropping Bombs from space on Arab people. Mom and Dad floating
somewhere watching all this. Pull back on the plunger and see a drop of my
blood. I do not know where Ramona is now. Pulled apart. Things made sense at
the time. Why we went this way and they that way. Pushing down the wall hit me.
Tall grass turned to seaweed. Everyone stayed where they were. Me and Ramona
curled up on a sofa together and fell asleep. Ramona like Mom. Me all
tired-eyed right before sleep. Soft breath “Goodnight”
