For some reason, though relieved that Han's furry tea cup had not broken, I began feeling sorry for myself. I really don't know why, and why precisely at that moment, but I totally lost it. I cried like a baby, I bawled, I spluttered all over the place. I felt Han's sympathetic hand on my shoulder, but I was inconsolable. I was screaming, "Why are you doing this? Why are you doing this?" I don't even know who I was screaming this to. Not at Han, certainly. And not at Zelda either. Maybe at myself. Maybe I wanted to know why I'd gotten involved in this mess. It was clear now that Zelda wasn't dead, that she was fucking with me, as usual. She wasn't even playing blind anymore; I could tell because that woman who was posing as my sister wasn't pretending to be blind (or else she didn't know). It was time to quit. There was nothing I could do for her now. She had evaded the Nazi goons; she had evaded Bob, Dan, Bill, and who knows how many others. She didn't need my help. She had never needed my help. She always claimed she did, for example when she asked for money, but even when I gave her money it never did any good; it would go to waste and she would only ask for more. Some people you simply can't help, because all they want is a quick fix, and that's no help, or because they want to take advantage of you, because you're nice, because you're gullible, because you're a dupe, because they don't care about you at all. Oh yeah? Well, I was through being a dupe, and I was through running around New York City like an idiot trying to help my sister who didn't need my help. So once I had calmed down I said, "I'm sorry I spilled your tea, Han. I'm going home."
"No, no," he said. "You sista she need you. You no go home now."
"She doesn't need me," I said. "You don't know her. She's using us." As I was saying this, I noticed that my headache was gone, but that the pain had traveled down my head to my mouth. I had an awful toothache.
"You sista she in perra," he said.
I put my hand to my cheek. My tooth really hurt. I said, "Where?"
"She in perra," he said. "She need hell."
"You mean--peril?" I said.
"Yes, perra," he said. "She gonna Russia Tees Room, she say hell me, Han, she need our hell, she in perra."
Sure she was. I said, "Don't worry about my sister. She's always involved in some mess or another."
"She in perra!" he cried.
"Listen," I said, "do you have some Tylenol? I have a nasty toothache."
"I toosache too," he said. "I give you Vicoda." He went out and came back with two white tablets of Vicodin and a glass of water.
My toothache was nasty enough that I didn't argue. I took one tablet; he popped the other one himself. That shit was strong. Almost instantly I stopped feeling the toothache. I stopped feeling anything in fact, even my toes. It was an anesthetic, it was a hallucinogenic, and it took me back in time, twenty years, to the night those two cops showed up and said my parents had been in an accident and I should come with them. I said I couldn't; my baby sister was sleeping, and I couldn't leave her alone. They asked me how old I was. I said nineteen. They asked how old my sister was. I said nine. They looked at each other; they didn't seem to know exactly what to do. One of them was older and fat and black; the other was young, not much older than I was, and fat and blond. They asked if they could come in. I asked them what was wrong and were my parents okay. They asked me to sit down; they sat down themselves, on the sofa. I said I would rather not sit down and would they please tell me what had happened. They insisted that I sit down, and it was when I sat down, on the rocking chair next to the sofa where they were sitting, that I stopped feeling anything, even my toes. I asked them again to tell me what had happened. They looked at each other again and the older cop, the fat black one, said we could all use a shot of whiskey. I said I was underage, and he said it was all right; they wouldn't tell. I said they couldn't drink because they were on duty. He said that was only true in the movies or on TV; in real life you could get pissed-drunk on duty or off. I got up and looked for some whiskey, but we were all out; all I found was a bottle of tequila. They said that would do, and we each had two shots. I didn't really want any, in the first place because I wan't much of a drinker and tequila especially tastes awful, and in the second place because I was already feeling nothing all over and didn't need an extra anesthetic. The tequila had no effect on me, and I kept asking them to tell me if my parents were all right. But they kept looking at each other and not saying anything, and they each had another shot before the older cop finally said, "Son, you're a man now. Come sit with us on the sofa." So I got up and I sat down between them. The younger cop put his hand on my shoulder, and the older cop said, "On the corner of Suffolk and Nashe their Chevy smashed into an ash. Your folks are both dead; your sister's in bed, but tomorrow she'll hear of the crash." Then he put his hand on my lower thigh, above the knee, and squeezed it with deep sympathy. I burst into tears, not then but now, twenty years later; back then I was completely numb and could not react. All I said, eventually, was thanks. I signed a bunch of documents they wanted me to sign, and then I showed them out. They told me to hang in there. I spent all night debating whether to call anyone and tell them. Uncle Mordecai was already dead, and apart from him my parents had no siblings. Of their parents only my mother's mother, Nana Nelly, was still alive, and she wasn't all there in the head; she lived in an old folks' home in Woosterby. I could call their friends, but I figured there was no point waking them up in the middle of the night. I began to think of the funeral. I had no idea how to arrange a funeral. The cops hadn't mentioned that. Should I call the hospital? The morgue? I got the Yellow Pages and looked under "Funeral Homes and Services" and wrote down a few numbers. Then it occurred to me that I should be crying, because my parents were dead; I even tried to force myself, but I was still numb and the tears wouldn't come out. It was around five AM now, and I thought that maybe I should wake Zelda up and tell her, but I decided against it. I wouldn't wake her up at all; I would let her sleep in. She woke up around ten, and she kept asking where Mom and Pop were; it was Sunday and we were supposed to go to Denny's for breakfast. I knew that I couldn't lie to her, because she would never forgive me, so I kept saying things like "Mom and Pop are not home," which wasn't strictly a lie. When I finally told her, she also didn't cry. She simply shut her eyes and wouldn't open them for anything in the world, until the following morning; and then she never mentioned our parents again, for years and years. Well, now I was crying, twenty years later, even though I was numb from head to toe from the Vicodin.
"Whatsamatta?" said Han. "Vicoda no work?"
"It does," I said, calming down, "I'm okay."
"You big crybaby," he said, and he laughed. "No use crying. You wanna more Vicoda?"
"I'm fine," I said. "Thanks."
"We go now Russia Tees Room," he said. "Very importa. Zelda she need our hell. I call taxi, we go."
The taxi was one of those black car service Town Cars and was manned by a friend of Han's. He was leaning forward and they were yapping away in Chinese. We swung into Canal Street and headed north up Elizabeth Street. Then Han leaned back and he put his hand on my knee. "We arrive soon Russia Tees Room," he said. "Very importa."
I said, "What is that place? Is it a dental clinic?"
"It is dentis and not dentis," he said. "Also very good tea."
"What do you mean dentist not dentist?" I said. "Is it a dentist or isn't it?"
"Yes it is dentis," he said, "but also it is not dentis. Russia Tees Room also make very good tea from samova. Very big, real samova. I go many time, for dentis but also for tea real samova."
"So it's a tea house," I said.
"Also tea house but also dentis and sell cheap Vicoda," he said. "I need Vicoda, bad toosache many time." He grinned. He had very few teeth left.
"Okay," I said, "fine, but what is Zelda doing there?"
"Vicoda," he said. "Very good for toosache."
"She went there to get Vicodin?" I sad.
"No," he said.
"Why then?" I said. "To get her missing tooth replaced?"
"No," he said. "Not new toos. You no understa. Russia Tees Room not dentis, only make-believe dentis and tea operata by mafia."
I said, "I still don't understand how my sister's involved in--?"
"I explain," he said. "You no have patien, you no let me explain. I explain. Russia Tees Room very good Vicoda also very good samova tea, I go many time, I make frien wis lady hygienis. She tell me trus. Trus is Russia Tees Room dentis not dentis. Trus is you sink dentis but no, fron for mafia. Lady hygienis she tell me in confiden many sings. She tell me secra, importa secra I should no say. She say Russia Tees Room buy from Russia mafia Hitra's tees. I tell Zelda secra because I in love. Now she go Russia Tees Room get Hitra's tees."
"They have Hitler's teeth?" I said. "I thought Zelda had Hitler's teeth."
"No," he said. "Today she go get Hitra's tees."
"So that's why she's in peril," I said.
"Yes," he said. "In perra. I say you no go alone. I come wis you. You bline, you no fine tees. She no listen, she no have patien."
"But why would she still be there," I said, "if she went last night?"
"No," he said. "She no go las ny. Russia Tees Room open only in aftanoon."
"Where is this place anyway?" I said.
"Uppa Eas Sy," he said.
We already were in the Upper East Side. We got off on First Avenue and 88th, and walked half a block down First to a building with two store fronts, a veterinary clinic and a pet shop. In the pet shop window there were two cages on display, one with three kittens sleeping in a pile, the other with rabbits, a white one and a gray one, who were busy reproducing and didn't care who was watching. I said, "This is the Russian Teeth Room?"
He said, "Russia Tees Room upstair." He pressed a button and we were buzzed in. "You have toosache, I have toosache. We ask for Vicoda, we no mention Zelda. Very importa. Mafia very dangera."
I must say I expected a grander place, even if it was a front. The Russian Teeth Room was a converted apartment. The living room was a kind of lounge with three tables, all unoccupied, and a bar; the two bedrooms were dentists' offices, ostensibly, and there was a tiny reception area in the foyer but no receptionist, no patients either. On top of that the place was dark; I kept looking for a light switch. And on top of that it stank of cauliflower and Lysol; I kept looking for a window to open. I whispered to Han, "There's nobody here." He shushed me with his finger and pointed to one of the tables. I went over and sat down, and he went into one of the offices. There was a cockroach on my table, a big fat cockroach as long as your finger. I flicked it the hell away. Then I heard these tremendous sobs coming from one of the rooms, and Han came back with a hefty middle-aged nurse. She was sobbing uncontrollably. Still, she went directly to the bar and proceeded to make a pot of tea. I asked her what in God's name was the matter.
She said, still sobbing, and with a very thick Russian accent, "De Zhids were here! De Zhids were here!"
I said, "The who? The sheets?"
"De Zhids!" she cried. "The Hebrews!"
Han explained: "Izzy come and run away wis Hitra's tees."
"Izzy?" I said. "Who the hell is Izzy?"
The nurse explained. I'm not sure I understood completely, but from what I gathered this Izzy guy was a big fat Hebe with a beard and a hat and everything who was actually the leader of a heretical Catholic sect called ZANAZ, which stood for Zionists for the Absolution of Nazis and whose mission was to "save" Nazis by converting them to the Hebrew faith, then sending them to Israel, thereby hastening the Apocalypse.
This was very interesting, but where was my sister in all of this? I asked her if Izzy operated alone or if he had a girl with him, a pretty blind girl with brown hair.
She hadn't seen any girl. She was shaking her head tragically, saying, "My boss kill me, my boss kill me..." Then she switched to Russian. It sounded like "Khroutchki! Kharouwchki! Khroutchki! Kharouwchki!"
I looked at Han. He was shrugging his shoulders. Then his cell phone rang. He answered it and his eyes opened wide. He hung up and put the phone back in his pocket. "Come," he said. "We go now."
"Who was that?" I said.
"We go," he said. "We get message from Zelda."
"That was my sister?" I cried. "Why didn't you pass her over to me?"
"No," he said. "Not you sista. Bill. Bill Zelda boss. He call, he say Ada get message from Zelda."
"Where is she?" I said.
"He no say," he said. "We go now we see Bill."
We finished our tea and we made our exit. The nurse was still weeping. As I stepped out the door I heard a crack and a crunch under my foot. I had stepped on the cockroach, who shattered into a hundred little bits, brittle bugger.
