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MADMAN
By Monika M. Segally © 2006
He liked the way her hair was—burnished copper mingling with golden strands. He noticed every time she came outside to get her fix of nicotine. He watched her intently for months or years. He couldn't quite remember as one day blended into the next so smoothly in his worn mind. He did remember the look of the seasons on her hair. He recalled in winter with grey skies and snow it was similar to a deep red flame, the bright piece in all his darkness. Summer was a halo of blazing amber and honeys around her head. He did remember this in spite of everything else he had forgotten. He also knew the wildness of the silky strands seemed to bother her as she constantly fidgeted with her hair between her fingers.
She stepped outside to the stoop, her coat thrown over her scrubs carelessly. He watched as she smiled up at the baron blue of sky. Her cigarette pack was crumpled between slender fingers as she shook one out. He watched the shape of her lips as she put it to her mouth and lit—a deep inhale and cloud of white smoke surrounding her face. The usual sigh escaped her as she squatted down to find her seat on the step. This was her ritual. He was familiar with her everyday life. He knew her schedule Monday thru Friday. She was there most days even when not on call. It made him think she was like him in a sense, no home to go to, or in her case, no one to go home to. Why else would she spend even her days off at the hospital until the wee hours of the morning?
Today she had coffee for him. She sat there on the stoop and lifted the lid and took one small sip. This would be all she would take. The rest she would leave there on the step for him just as she left the small neat hill of cigarette butts and the true treasure—one un-smoked perfect cigarette lay next to the pile. He knew she had also observed him otherwise she would not have left such presents.
He stumbled around the bench so involved in watching her he was. Today he thought, Today I will ask her. He was more than curious about the red haired doctor. All this time, he wondered what she saw that captured her attention when she gazed at the sky. She was always looking up at the mammoth atmosphere through darkness or day, rain, snow and fog. She scanned the heavens, in-between skyscrapers with a bemused expression. He didn't understand what was so fascinating. He realized that there wasn't much of anything he did understand. He thought differently than other people, stranger perhaps. He adjusted the mirror duck taped to his hat and pulled the zipper up tightly on his grease stained coveralls. Then he looked at his hands. They were crusted with filth from digging in the gutters, searching for half-smoked cigarettes or the odd piece of spare change. He realized he could not shake her hand and introduce himself properly with hands such as these.
She was watching him when he looked again at her and she smiled and offered a slight wave. He tipped his mirror heavy hat to her. He started to walk across the street when another figure, this one in a white coat, stepped outside. It was the dark haired man with the beard. He watched her face change while the other man talked animatedly with his hands waving in the air as he spoke. He saw her face close into itself losing the softness and dreaminess that possessed it moments before as she gazed up at the sky. He wondered about the other doctor. He knew the man was her coworker, but he wondered at the hardness in her face and thought maybe this was someone who had hurt her.
She stood up and brushed the seat of her scrubs off and again looked at him from across the street. She held the pack of smokes tightly in her hand and then set them gently next to the butts and went back in the hospital. He ran across the street and said a quick prayer for his good fortune. He shoved the pack deep in his pocket, but the half-smoked cigarettes, the ones that had traces of her lipstick on them, the ones that had touched her mouth, these he wrapped gently in a crumpled napkin and placed inside his coveralls in the torn pocket of his shirt. These he would smoke last. These had her kisses on them and felt like kisses against his lips when he pressed them to his own. He wandered back across the street and curled up on a bench drawing his newspapers around him. He smiled.
#
Elizabeth stepped outside into crisp air. She looked for him immediately as she sat on the stoop and then took the wrapper off of her sandwich. She took one bite and wrapped it back into the wax paper the cafeteria workers had put it in. She placed this beside her and pulled out her pack of cigarettes. She inhaled deeply and sighed a sigh of the weary. Twelve hours on was more than enough for anyone to work. He wasn't there at his usual spot in the park. Poor man, she thought. She looked up at the empty sky and said a small little prayer— Keep him safe.
#
He was hidden behind the vendor wagon. He bought his own coffee today. He had found twelve pennies—enough for a cup of coffee or so the man said. He saw her looking for him and then turn her face up to the heavens. What does she see? He wondered again. Without pausing to check his appearance he ran across the street. A city bus came to a screeching halt and the driver swore out his window and shook his fist. He did not hear the disgruntled driver. He only saw her look towards him. He only saw the look on her face. He only knew that no fear shown in her eyes.
He stopped suddenly at the foot of the stairs. Her eyes were blue. He had never been close enough to know that before this moment. He fumbled with words. Finally the chance to speak and his mouth wouldn't make any sounds other than what he felt was unintelligible. “You…you…I …”
Elizabeth stood and stepped lightly down the last two steps. She extended her hand, “Hi…I'm Elizabeth …”
Madman looked at her hand and then his own. He was dirty again. He rubbed his palm against his coveralls and whispered, “Madman…”
Elizabeth 's eyes were puzzled.
“My name is Madman…” he swiped at his nose with grubby fingers leaving a trail of grime across his upper lip. “That's my name don't wear it out! Yep, yep, yep.”
Elizabeth 's smile was warm, “That isn't a name but a description…”
“Names are whats' people calls you, not whats' you are…”
Elizabeth pulled out her pack of cigarettes, “Care to join me?”
Madman accepted one and pulled it to his face. Elizabeth lit the end and he inhaled. He sat on the first step heavily and sighed, “Yep, yep, yep…” He adjusted the mirror on his cap and caught a glimmer of sun in the corner, and then bounced the reflection against the sky scraper across the street and caught it back into the mirror causing a sunburst of light. “Whoo wee!” he shouted with glee.
Elizabeth laughed, “Pretty neat trick.”
“No trick, science, same as you doctoring. I used to be a doctor…” Madman whispered.
“Oh yeah?” Elizabeth asked. There was no evidence of disbelief in her face. “What is so fascinating about the mirror anyway?”
Madman took another drag on the cigarette and looked deep in thought. “It's a healing. Catching the sun, the light, it goes in my brains. Capturing a kingdom no one is s'pose to have. It's just mine. Fills me up inside. Light fills me up…”
“Get out of here you bum!” the black bearded man shouted as he burst through the heavy door. “ Elizabeth ! What the hell are you doing?” his face was angry.
Madman bolted. Elizabeth cringed in fury, “Jack! Why would you do that for Christ's sake? He's a man! A human being!”
“A drain on society…” Jack scoffed.
Elizabeth stared coldly. Her eyes resembled blue ice. “Go away you bum.” she mumbled. She stepped out to the street, but Madman had disappeared into thin air. She looked at the sandwich she had not eaten and the pile of cigarette butts. She took a fresh pack out of her pocket and set it next to the other things with hope that he would come back for it. She looked up at the sky and saw a flash of light hit the stained glass window of Our Lady of Grace Church and knew Madman must be around somewhere. She pushed herself through the revolving hospital doors and went back in.
#
Two a.m. Elizabeth sat on the stoop. Her eyes were grainy and raw though a tear still lingered in the corner of her left eye. She looked up. The stars were magnificent and the moon felt like a ball of diamond dust. She breathed deep to take in as much of the cool night air as possible. No comfort was in the sky this night. The child was beyond saving. She could not save this one and he had died quietly in her arms while his mother wept. Elizabeth lit a cigarette and enjoyed the tendrils of smoke clouding her vision.
Madman was at the bottom of the stairs. He had caught the tear on her cheek with his mirror. The moonlight had reflected it and he directed the light away from her face. She didn't see him standing there so lost in her own thoughts she was.
“What…what…do you see?” Madman asked. His voice was low, frightened as he kept glancing at the door where the bearded man may jump out at any moment.
Elizabeth 's breath caught in her throat. She hadn't noticed him standing there and then wondered how many people passed him by as if he were invisible. She cleared her throat and casually swiped at her eyes. “Nothing really. My dreams…” she let out a small burst of laughter.
“Really?” Madman asked. “I don't sees them at all up there. You always looking up…looking for something up there that I can't sees.”
“That's because they are my dreams. You can't see other people's dreams.”
Madman stood still but accepted the cigarette she offered to him. “Used to be dreams somewhere around here in my head.” his eyes seemed confused in the dimness of the light, “Used to be I think…”
“Maybe your light…maybe your light is your dream.” Elizabeth 's voice was soft and smoky.
“Nope…no dreams here.”
Elizabeth stood and shook off her trousers. “I have to go back…I lost a child tonight…I…his parents…” she drifted off wondering why she was saying this to a “Madman”.
Madman said with utter clarity, “Lost…nope…just on to the light…just part of it now…yep,yep,yep.” and wandered away across to the park.
Elizabeth paused on the stair, her hand resting lightly on the rail, and somehow was comforted by the words of a madman.
#
It became a ritual of sorts—her seeking out the man and him seeking her. Jack found him repulsive and made comment that she was as mad as the homeless. She didn't care what Jack thought, at least not anymore.
Elizabeth and Madman made strange conversation. She listened closely to the rare words he spoke. Sometimes, a moment of lucidity did break in his mind and she was there to capture the benefits of a wise word spoken. Some days he told her bizarre tales of his life and it was up to her to decipher what was real and what was fantasy.
The day he let her hold the mirror so carefully taped to his hat was a miraculous one for Elizabeth . Madman took his hat off for her to hold. He showed her by moving his fingers over hers how to capture the light. She wasn't very good at it and realized that Madman had acquired a true skill in throwing light beams in any direction he wished.
“How did you learn how to do this?”
“Don't know…just did it. The thoughts about it are lost somewhere here. Not sure where at all…yep.” Elizabeth knew by then that when Madman ended a sentence with only one yep, it was a small showing of the sadness lingering about him.
When the frost came she started to worry for him. “Won't you go to a shelter now? At least somewhere to warm up awhile?”
“Ain't no sense in shelters when we ain't at war. Stayed in a fox hole once. Nope…didn't like it much.”
“Where?”
“Oh in that other place…long ago. Sometimes I caught the stars in my mess kit spoon. They fell right in the hole with me…yep, yep, yep.” Madman dug deep into his coverall pocket and pulled out an army issued mess kit spoon. “There it is. Might be some stars left in it.” he handed it to her.
Elizabeth accepted it with a solemn, “Thank you.” and tucked the mangled utensil into her fur lined pocket. She thought again of the cold and that the weatherman had said it would drop below zero sometime that night. “Won't you come into the hospital? Just long enough to warm up?”
Madman looked up at the building his eyes glazing over. “Nope, nope, nope…place for dying. The light isn't real in there nope…”
Elizabeth stared at him, begging was on the tip of her tongue. She stopped herself from asking again because she knew that he was proud and she didn't mean to offend. “Okay. I'll see you in the morning…”
Madman watched her face a long time before speaking. He noticed that in the deep darkness of buildings gathered, that the golden strands of her hair looked like streaks of starlight painted through the curls and waves. He reached out to touch one stray shimmering strand. Elizabeth kept very still. “It's pretty. Yep, yep, yep…pretty.” Madman held his mirror up trying to capture the color of her in his glass, trying to make it reflect something to throw back. Instead, the light of the streetlamps struck the mirror and illuminated her face. He could see sadness there. He could see joy and even hope glimmered there around the corners of her eyes and he felt a small memory surface, and remembered what hope was. He held the mirror steady and then smiled. “I have you right here…” he said pointing to the mirror taped to his hat. Taking her hand in his he bent at the waist and pressed a gentle kiss on her fingers.
Elizabeth grinned, “Well keep me there then.”
Madman started down the stairs and then looked up at the starless sky. “Up there…your dreams Elizabeth , Elizabeth, Elizabeth..;”
Elizabeth too looked up at the velvet blanket between skyscrapers. “Yes Madman?”
“Do they come true? Do they ever come true?”
Elizabeth thought a moment and answered, “Yes…sometimes they do come true.”
“Yep, yep, yep…” Madman walked away down the street and crossed to the park. Elizabeth went back to work. There was a young girl she was worried about in particular.
#
The police convened about Madman's park bench in the morning. Elizabeth knew when she saw all the blue uniforms that he had died. He more than likely—froze in the freezing temperatures of the night. She lit a cigarette as she walked across the street.
“I'm a doctor.” she called out sharply.
“No need for one. He's a popsicle.” the officer laughed.
Elizabeth shot him and his fellow officers a withering glance and all fell silent. “His name was Madman…” and she felt ashamed that she did not know his real name.
She noticed he wasn't wearing his hat right off. He held it gripped tightly between filthy fingers, the mirror tilted up at the great expanse of blue sky. It took Elizabeth another few moments to declare that he was indeed dead. She asked the officers to call the coroner and give her a moment to catch her breath. “Poor man,” she whispered to no one in particular. Then she noticed the light.
Elizabeth wasn't sure how Madman had managed it. She wondered if he had known the exact degrees of angles and where the sun would be placed in the sky to create such an illusion at that exact moment. He must have known. The sun glinted off the mirror clenched in his death stiffened hands and shone directly into the madman's eyes. The soft brown orbs appeared to be filled with light despite the lack of life in them. He looked like he had just dreamt the sweetest of dreams. Madman had become part of the light.
Elizabeth smiled and looked up at the sky. A few dreams still lingered there.
The End