Even off peak, subway trains arrived every ten, fifteen minutes — though at the York Street Station, the passengers had to climb two flights of steps from the train platform, walk up a long concrete ramp and push through the turnstiles to get to the stairway and the only exit where Celeste was being detained by the bridge of her nose. It could take arriving passengers five minutes to get to the exit. A hotshot kid running the whole way would be faster.
The mugger tugged at her shoulder bag and tossed it up to the lookout. She let her body go limp. It would take him longer to search her pockets. Celeste had never been mugged before. She hoped they’d just take the money she’d been carrying for years for this eventuality and not turn violent. Born in Ohio and coming to New York to be an artist, she’d always been sensible about walking alone at night or in desolate neighborhoods. This was mid-morning, not traditional mugging time. Was nothing sacred?
He jammed his free hand into her front and back jeans pockets, claiming her Metrocard and fourteen dollars in cash, all while maintaining a firm pressure on the bridge of her nose that made mouth breathing her only painful option.
She’d chosen to live here in DUMBO (Directly Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass) in Brooklyn because the lofts were big and cheap. She loved everything about the city: the art scene, the restaurants, the cultural activity, the energy of the crowds, the vitality of the streets. You’d meet a bad apple every so often, but what the heck. Certainly, someone, anyone would be by any second. Celeste just needed one or two people. She was living in the city that never sleeps. Where the hell was everyone?
Now he was tugging roughly on her wedding ring.
She’d put on a few pounds since her wedding in eighty-eight. It was tight. But it was a beautiful ring. His great-grandmother had bequeathed the ring to Dennis in her will. It was French, old and very unusual. It was also free to Dennis which no doubt increased its attraction for him. The band was broad, pink-gold with a filigreed edge; diamond shaped insets of white gold encircled the ring with alternating inlaid ruby and emerald chips.
Celeste had never found another one like it and she’d looked whenever she passed by an antique store or a flea market. Dennis, who hadn’t a sentimental bone in his body, had saved the ring as a surprise, so she’d first beheld it as he slipped it on her slim finger during their wedding ceremony at Brooklyn City Hall.
She’d sobbed at its beauty and elegance. Though most of the guests in the tiny chapel probably assumed she’d cried because she was marrying Dennis, a good catch, a CPA. Their thirtieth anniversary was coming up in October. Maybe they could go on that trip to London he’d promised five years ago, if he could get away from the office.
The ring was part of her.
“God damn, Lady. It’s stuck. I don’t have all the fucking time in the world.”
Celeste considered explaining to him the more he yanked at the ring the more swollen her finger became, but it didn’t seem the best moment to make suggestions. He squeezed her nose harder. She expected the crack of bone any second.
She heard a different sound instead, a click followed by a flash of metal sliding against metal. She detected sudden movement and felt a pinch on her left hand, as when the doctor gives you a shot. Then her hand felt cool, almost cold. He released her nose only to smash his fist into it. The punch arrived like slingshot from hell and her face was instantly on fire. A sharp metallic taste flooded into the throbbing pain. Her nostrils were blocked and she had to inhale hard through her mouth to fill her lungs.
She heard and felt things cascade down the steps: paper things, metal things, plastic things. Her things. A small, light object was placed on her chest, almost gently. For a second, she thought help had finally arrived, but it was just her smelly attacker deserting her. A tangle of hurried footsteps ascended and gradually faded into silence.
(Click on number 3 to continue reading the story.)
Suzanne C Martinez 