Have You Seen Luis Velez?(18)

“Not sure,” Raymond said.

They walked in silence for a block more. Raymond could see the subway stairs at the end of the next block. They looked like salvation. Like the end of all trouble and fear.

“How do you know this old blind lady?” Luis asked.

“She lives in my building.”

“And are you helping her get to the bank and the store? Until you can find this right Luis Velez?”

“Yeah. I am. I mean . . . somebody has to. So I am.”

“Good,” he said. “You’re a good boy. I don’t mean ‘boy’ like . . . I didn’t mean it in the bad way. You know. Just . . . I don’t know. Maybe you’re eighteen and you’re a man. Are you?”

“No. I’ll be seventeen next month.”

“You’re tall, though. That’s why I guessed older.”

“Yeah. I’m tall.”

“Well, you’re a good young man, then.”

Raymond averted his eyes and fell silent. Just the way Mrs. G said he always did when someone spoke well of him.

They reached the subway stairs and paused. Stood awkwardly together. Raymond stared carefully at his feet.

“Maybe I’ll do that,” Luis said. “You know. Work at a soup kitchen or something. Couple hours a week. It’s just hard. I work hard. Come home tired, you know? But I think about it.”

“Thanks for walking me here,” Raymond said.

He knew this Luis Velez wanted something from him. Some sense of having been understood. Of being let off the hook. He wanted Raymond to understand why he was not the Luis Velez who walked elderly blind women to the bank. But Raymond didn’t feel he had the words to help.

“No problem,” Luis said. “Good luck finding your guy.”

“Thanks.”

Luis turned and walked away. Raymond watched and waited. He wanted to get himself underground. But he felt this man named Luis Velez had asked him nicely for something, though not straight out. And Raymond knew he could—and should—have given him more.

“Hey!” he called out. “Luis!”

The man stopped and turned back. He was a quarter of the way down the block now, so Raymond had no choice but to shout.

“Four kids is an awful lot!”

Luis broke into a grin, and Raymond knew his simple statement was all the man had really needed.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” he said.

Then he walked again.

Raymond ran down the subway stairs and into the pit of tunnel under the street. Under the world as he knew it. While he waited for the train he crossed Luis A. Velez off his list with a pen that was almost out of ink. He had to scratch it out, more than anything else.



He knocked on her door with his own geeky—even by his standards—secret knock. It was actually Morse code for the letter R. One short rap, then three raps in a row to make up the dash, then another short rap.

He waited for her to cross the room and undo the locks.

When the door opened she beamed up at him, and for the first time in as long as Raymond could remember, he felt happy. From the inside out. Not only was she happy to see him, but he had done something big to try to help her. Even if she didn’t know it. Even if it hadn’t come to anything.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, but he could feel himself smiling.

“Come in quickly,” she said, “so we don’t let the cat out.”

He stepped into her living room and watched as she fetched her white cane and snugged the strap of her purse over her shoulder.

“Kitty friend Louise,” she called, “we are only going out to buy you good things to eat, and me good things to eat. We will be back before you know it.”

They stepped into the hall together, and he waited while she locked each dead bolt with a key.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he said again.

“There was no special arrangement for what time you would come.”

She hooked her arm through his and they moved toward the stairs, Raymond carrying her folded-up grocery cart under his other arm. He had to reset his internal speedometer to match her pace. He had been running all day. He had forgotten what slow felt like.

“I said I’d come after school, though.”

“Well. Is it before school? Or is it after?”

“Oh. Okay. If you want to look at it like that, yeah. Stairs coming up. I’ll tell you when it’s time to step down. Okay . . . now.”

They didn’t talk as they navigated the flight of stairs to the lobby. There was too much concentration involved.

“Okay,” he said. “Next step you’ll be on the lobby floor.”

She sighed as she stepped down. It was a sound like air flowing out of a punctured tire, deflating it. It was her tension leaving her. That much was clear. Raymond wondered how it would feel to live in a world where a flight of stairs stood as a massive challenge that could prove to be the end of you on any trip through it. It dampened his rare moment of good mood.

“I just figured you went somewhere with your friends,” she said.

He laughed, an embarrassing snort of a sound. “I don’t have friends.”

“You were with a friend the day I first spoke to you.”

“Okay, wait here a minute,” he said. “I’m going to go open the door.” He did, then let it stand open as he came back to get her.