Free The Intruder by Peter Blauner Page B

Street.”
    Gates squints at the numbers and stops scratching. “Somebody must have changed it.”
    Oh boy, thinks Jake. Mr. Crazy Rambling Smelly Homeless Guy. At least he’s not menacing anybody with his two-by-four. Yet.
    “That’s my doctor in there,” Gates points the board at Dana in the window. “I have some papers I have to give her.”
    “Oh yeah?”
    “And she has my little girl in there,” Gates says, his face hawkish and creased in concern.
    A white Project Return van pulls up to the curb. Two outreach workers climb out and stand around like actors on a movie set without any lines.
    “Who farted?” John G. says.
    The guys stare at each other. Dana comes out of the house wearing a blue sleeveless dress with large white dots on it. John G. puts his arms out like Christ on the cross. The whole scene would be funny if it weren’t so embarrassing. Neighbors are leaning out of their windows to gawk. The stocky light-haired guy who’s been renovating apartments across the street stands by his red Dodge van, watching.
    “What’s up, guy?” asks one of the outreach workers, a young man with a hoodlum’s short haircut and the sound of Bay Ridge in his voice.
    “That man stole my wife,” says John G., pointing the board at Jake. “He took her away. Now he’s living with her. Doing the nasty in my bed.”
    Dana takes her husband’s arm. The two outreach workers look at them, like they’re wondering if this could be true.
    “I was the one who called,” Dana says. “I think this gentleman needs help.”
    “Yeah, come on, buddy.” The one from Bay Ridge points at the board in John G.’s right hand. “You wanna go to the hospital?”
    John G. holds the board between his legs and starts pushing his ears forward like Dumbo the elephant, muttering, “Kiss me! Kiss me!”
    “No, really,” says Bay Ridge. “I think you’d be comfortable. You’d like it there.”
    “Kiss my ears!”
    The outreach workers look at each other again.
    “So what emergency room are you going to take him to?” Jake asks the second worker, a bulky guy with a weightlifter’s body and a tiny head.
    “Parkside.”
    “Why don’t you take him downtown to where my wife works?”
    The bulky guy stares right through Jake. “Parkside needs the money. They’re looking to keep their beds filled.”
    “I’m not going to any goddamn hospital,” John G. interrupts.
    The bulky one sighs. “All right, let’s just take him to the shelter then,” he tells Bay Ridge.
    John G. suddenly takes the board from between his legs and holds it up defensively. “I’m not going to a city shelter!”
    “Why not?” asks Bay Ridge.
    “Because I’ve been in a city shelter!” John G. hits the sidewalk with the board and the nail. “I’ve slept in a city shelter! I have had a bad experience with the city shelter system! They’ve deprived me of my definition of what it means to be a man!”
    His voice echoes down the block and out into Riverside Park.
    The Bay Ridge guy turns to Jake. “Well, we can’t force him to go anywhere, you know.”
    “What about getting a mental health removal order?”
    John G. abruptly drops the board and lets it clatter to the sidewalk.
    Bay Ridge shrugs. “Well now he’s not really bothering anybody.”
    “It’s for his own good.”
    “Mr. Defense Lawyer.” Dana lets go of her husband’s arm.
    As she moves away, Jake stares at the space where she was just standing, wondering what he did wrong.
    She moves toward John G. cautiously. “John, are you all right?”
    Gates looks at the dots on her dress as if he’s hypnotized. Jake feels a knot of tension in his gut. It’s not just the potential for danger here; it’s like watching his wife dance with someone else.
    “You know, I’m really very worried about you,” she says to John in a warm calming voice. “I really think you need to be in the hospital. It’s not safe for you out here.”
    “You’re damn straight it’s not safe,” John G.