Monsters | Page 5

but held his breath, waiting for the crash.
"Celeste," said Kaplan, "I think you should call the police. Tell them
we're having a little problem here."
"See, Henry?" Jerry was full of scorn. "They don't even trust you with
the phone."
"Get the hell out of my store!" Kaplan stepped toward Jerry.
Celeste edged off her stool. Henry tried to think of a way to stop her.
He knew Jerry and Kaplan were very close to fighting; she was going
to keep them from hurting each other. When he closed his eyes, Henry
saw broken teeth and dark blood beading on the floor tiles. His fists
clenched. This was so much better than the shrine. He had never been
so close to real violence before.
"Aww, fuck all of you." Jerry snatched his coat. "I never liked working
here anyway. The pay sucks and you're nothing but a bunch of loonies
and losers." He retreated toward the back door. "Just make sure my

check is ready." He stalked out, not even bothering to slam the door
behind him.
Kaplan slumped against the spotting bench. "I'm sorry you had to listen
to that." Henry guessed he meant both of them, even though he was
speaking to Celeste. "I should've taken care of him after work, but I ....
Listen, we're going to have to pull together for a couple of days." He
looked about as together as dust. "I'll get an ad in the paper right away.
I-I should stay up front today, keep an eye on Maggie. What I think we
need to do is keep pushing the cleaning out on schedule, which means
you'll have to help Henry. If there's time left, we'll worry about the
shirts. No money in goddamn shirts, anyway." He considered for a
moment, then gathered himself. "That little weasel." He pushed away
from the bench and clapped his hands. "So, then, can we handle this?"
Henry had been flashing Kaplan firing Jerry after work, when there'd
be no witnesses. Jerry coldcocked the brittle old man, then straddled
him and grasped the pink head between his hands. When he pounded it
against the floor, it exploded like a light bulb. The monster was
frustrated that nothing had happened. "It stinks," Henry said.
"I'm sorry, Henry. Just give me a couple of days."
"Don't worry, Louis," said Celeste. "We'll handle it."
Kaplan shot her a grateful look and hurried off to keep Maggie from
ransacking the till. Henry bent to snare the vest Jerry had thrown. He
dropped it in the hamper.
"Look at you." Celeste chuckled. "He's gone and you're still picking up
after him."
"It's your fault." He snapped at her. "You laughed, you got him fired."
"That's bullshit, Henry, and you know it. Jerry blew this job off long
ago. If you ask me, he got what he deserved. I'm sorry if that bothers
you. I'm sorry if you hate my guts. But other people don't make you do
bad things. You do them yourself."

Even though she was wrong, he didn't reply; she'd only chew his ear
some more. He folded his untouched muffin and rammed it into the cup
still half full of lukewarm tea. Of course other people could make you
do wrong. Henry was proof of that. And he didn't really hate her. Yes,
the grotesque hump repelled him and she had the personality of Brillo
but he was also a little sorry for her.
It was the monster who hated her.
"So what do you want me to do?" she said.
Henry figured that the reason it was always dark in church was because
God didn't like bright places. His God tended to lurk in the shadows
and not say much, like a stranger at a wedding. When He spoke in His
midnight whisper, it always took Henry by surprise. God certainly
wasn't a rattletongue like Celeste or a smartmouth like Jerry. Henry
believed that He preferred the dark because, like Henry, He was shy.
Even though Our Lady of Mercy was only two blocks from Kaplan's,
Henry's midday routine was to bring his lunch to St. Sebastian's
because the light there was so bad that it was hard for anyone to see
him eating. Also, Sebastian was the martyr that some Roman emperor
had shot full of arrows; his painting was in the side chapel. Henry liked
to sit in the third pew from the back with his regular tuna sandwich,
pickle and chocolate milk. The priests usually left him alone because he
never made a mess, but sometimes parishioners would crab at him.
The rain had come earlier than predicted, chasing at least a dozen other
people into the church, so he had to be cagy about eating. And the
clouds had dulled his favorite stained glass; the