Alva Will Help
“Let me see that paper,” Christopher nodded toward Raymond, his hands busy removing the foils from Isabel’s hair.
“I think it’s over near where you used to live … remember, with that awful window dresser … before we met?” said Raymond. He leaned over to show Christopher the address.
“He wasn’t awful,” Christopher said, looking down at the paper. “Oh sure, that’s right around the corner from where I lived. I think maybe,” he stopped to remove the last foil and then picked up a towel. “We’re going to move over to that sink, dear,” he said to Isabel and helped her out of the chair. “This going to look so good. Just you wait.”
“You think maybe what?” Raymond asked. “He gets sidetracked so easily. I swear I can’t even take him to the grocery store before he’s getting lost in the wine section or looking at tooth paste. It’s just … ”
“Look who’s talking,” said Christopher. He adjusted the tap water and held Isabel’s head over a big steel sink, while he pulled out a sink hose with a sprinkler head attached to it. “One day I’m going to set this up right. I cannot stand this sink over here in the corner, and this old hose leaks. Just look at that floor.” A puddle was forming at their feet.
“Oh, puleeze, you think what?” asked Raymond again.
“I think that’s the old cheesecake factory building. It’s a bunch of artists’ lofts. You know the one I mean, over there on Fourth Street.” He said as he began rinsing the dye out of Isabel’s hair.
“You’re right,” said Raymond. “You know who would know about who lives in there?”
“Who?” asked Christopher. He was wrapping a towel around Isabel’s hair. He helped her back to the chair. “Throw a towel on that horrible puddle will you?” he said to Raymond.
Raymond leaned down and started sopping up the water. “Alva Patterson. Brooklyn’s like a big small town. You can’t go far without bumping into someone who knows someone you know. Here it’s all family.”
“Don’t you worry, dear, we’ll find that girl of yours,” said Christopher, as he started snipping Isabel’s hair.