Free Chicago Stories: West of Western by Eileen Hamer Page A

Lady,” the man called from the top step of the two-flat next door. “C’mere a second.” He gestured to her to join him. When she reached his porch, she saw his clothes were caked with days of food debris and only dirt and duct tape held his shoes together. A puff of wind brought her olfactory reminders of cigarettes, sweat, greasy food, Night Train, and urine. Um. Maybe she wouldn't join him on the porch.
    “Are you my neighbor? I'm Seraphy Pelligrini, just moved in yesterday,” she said as she sat down on the bottom step so she wouldn't have to go closer, forcing herself not to glance over at the spot where last night's body had lain.
    “Seffy Purgrini, that right?” He nodded. “Everbody calls me Manny.” Manny kept his head turned slightly away, watching her from the corners of his eyes. “We was watchin’ you move, you know, me and my friends. And all that fixin’ up you done. Looks real nice.” Like the old woman last night, he wore layers of clothing that framed his face and fraying cuffs dangled from his coat sleeves.
    “Thanks, Manny. I thought I'd come out, maybe get to know the neighborhood a little, meet some neighbors.”
    “Me and Jose and Eddie sleep upstairs,” he volunteered, nodding wisely. “Some other fellas sometimes. Sister Ann lets us stay there if we don't drink or nothing.” Rocking back and forth on his toes, he smiled, baring his four of his remaining teeth, and still not looking directly at her, tucked his hands into his armpits for warmth.
    “That's nice. Is Sister Ann a nun?” asked Seraphy, trying to think of a subtle way to ask Manny about the dead man. Manny's odor seemed almost familiar, a cousin to the stench of the bag lady from the alley. Could she be Sister Ann? No way. Twelve years of parochial school made Seraphy something of an expert on nuns, and she'd never known a dirty nun. Maybe this was some kind of half-way house.
    “Was once, I think, but not no more.” Manny shifted on the step and leaned toward her. “Say, you got any work over there? I sweep real good. Couple bucks, I could sweep out front.”
    “Not right now. I'm a little short on money right now. Did you know the guy who was shot last night?” She remembered the shadowy figures who'd watched from the porch.
    Manny nodded but didn't answer. There was a short silence while he rocked and Seraphy stared at her toes and wondered how to get away without offending him. It was colder out than she'd thought. Or maybe it was sitting in the shade on the concrete step. Her butt was freezing.
    “You smoke?” he asked, risking a quick sideways glance at her.
    “Sorry, no. I don't even let anybody smoke in my house.”
    “Yeah,” Manny said, his voice disappointed. He didn't seem to want to talk about the shooting. Maybe another time. He sighed and started rocking again. “Sister Ann's like that, too. Nuthin’ good in the house.”
    Seraphy couldn't think of anything to say to that and stared silently at the old ladies across the street until Manny volunteered, “She's real good to us anyhow. Sometimes in the winter even makes us dinner. And sometimes folks give us money for food.” He squinted at her, hoping she'd take the hint.
    “That's nice.” Seraphy, fiddling with her shoelace, decided it was definitely time to move.
    “You got a dollar you could give me?”
    “No,” she got up, rubbing her butt. “You know what? It's cold out here and my butt's freezing from the concrete. I've got to get moving, Manny. Nice to meet you.”
    “Remember, you got work, just come get me. Jose and Eddie, too.”
    “Right. Bye now.”
    The banged-up white Camaro was still parked in front of the vacant lot on the corner next to Sister Ann's, the hood propped open, four teen-agers in green and black Lobos colors leaning on the fenders, pretending to stare down at the engine. Another point for Ellie, even Tony had these guys figured, she thought as she neared. These guys weren't working on the engine—you didn't