CHAPTER 5
Forest Hills, Queens, in New York City is a quiet, middle-class ethnically diverse neighborhood, a wealthy suburb nestled in the city wilds. This contrast was one of many reasons that attracted Lawrence to settle here as his place of residence. The community's energy, though connected with that of the city, has a pulse of its own that is much more subdued in comparison to the frantic zeal inherent of Manhattan. To Lawrence's way of thinking the neighborhood represented accomplishment. Lawrence was never one to be embarrassed by or carry guilt about his blessings or prosperity on any level, spiritual or materialistic, it was a birthright far as he was concerned. Not one unto just himself, but infinitely available to anyone who chose to experience it and was willing to take the required actions to make it their reality. He carried a deep appreciation for the finer luxuries in life as well as life itself. Wise in his personal finances and talented with the combined quality of thriftiness without being cheap, his prudent investments helped him to achieve a comfortable lifestyle.
Following the precise directions of the GPS Leonard was only three minutes from his brother's destination. He turned south onto Queens Boulevard from Woodhaven Boulevard. Traveled one point eight miles then bared right onto Ascan avenue. Made a left at Greenway, then a right at 75th Road/Puritan Avenue into Forest Hills Gardens and three houses down on the right pulled into the driveway of a two-story Tudor house. Leonard felt grateful he had the good sense to rent a BMW and wished it were a Mercedes. The neighborhood was a model of wealth and success. It was a small community with privately owned streets, elegantly constructed homes, apartment buildings and a largely Jewish population. How the hell Lawrence felt comfortable living here, Leonard could only fathom because he sure as hell felt completely out of place. But that was Lawrence. There weren't many African Americans in the community. In fact, only two, and Lawrence used to be the second. Leonard had heard that when someone asked Lawrence why he chose to live there, he replied he enjoyed the ambiance, the graveyard-thinkers-quietness and the fact he knew his presence pissed off some of the more closed-minded neighbors who had personal problems with the color of another human beings skin. In his own passive-aggressive way, Lawrence had practiced his own defiance. He kept mostly to himself but over time managed to befriend some of the more liberal and open-minded neighbors in the area. They respected and liked him and he regarded them in kind. His reputation and success in the field of biochemistry made even some of the harder lined among his neighbors readjust their attitudes towards him and grew to admire him.That was what he hoped to accomplish. After a while the most reluctant just got used to and accepted him. They had no choice - Lawrence was determined to remain a permanent fixture in the neighborhood. He even attended a few Bar Mitzvahs to which he was invited by one Gabriel Markowitz, an accomplished accountant and another of Lawrence's good friends that actually turned out to be one of his best friends and confidant.
There was a one car garage available, but Leonard thought it best to park the car in front of the house. He would only be inside long enough to satisfy his curiosity in the hopes of finding something that pointed to the mystery of his brother's untimely demise. At least that's what he hoped. He peered up at the house, as he turned off the ignition. It was a one family brick Tudor. A beauty. The landscaping so perfectly manicured it looked as if it had just been done moments before his arrival. It was dark inside the house as it should have been. Leonard climbed from the car into the damp, cool evening air. The rain now was a mere drizzle. Leonard removed the house key from his pocket and headed toward the front door. As he was about to place the key inside the lock…
"Lawrence." The man's voice called from behind him perhaps a few yards away.
Leonard's heart skipped a beat until he felt a warm sensation fill him, a genuine feeling of friendliness emitted from the source of the voice. It came from a little distance away, but he heard footsteps approaching, getting closer, fast. Leonard thought about pretending not to hear but that would have been futile in this cryptic quietude. He turned instead, as the footsteps quickly closed in.
"Lawrence," the man said again. He was a short man in his late twenties, though he looked a little older. Jewish. His weight seemed good for his height, and he was graced with dark handsome features, eager brown eyes and thick curly hair. On one arm he cradled a brown grocery bag. "Man, I know it's been a long time since we've seen one another, but do you have to look at me as if I'm a complete stranger?" The man spoke without a hint of Jewish accent and pronounced every one of his words in perfect syllables. "It's me, ya schnook. Gabriel. Come here." He embraced Leonard like a brother, even tiptoed to plant a quick unexpected kiss on his cheek. Not a lover's kiss, but as a loving friend. Leonard sensed his sincerity and was also relieved he had revealed his name for him. He was not however accustomed to being kissed by a man. Instinctively, in his awkwardness, he looked about to be sure no one else saw them. They seemed the only two human beings existing in this part of the world.
"Sorry… Gabriel," Leonard said, "I was in deep thought… about something."
"As always," Gabriel commented. "How you been?"
"Good," Leonard said, anxious for this encounter to end. "Look…."
"Wait," Gabriel interrupted, "I took your advice and did a sabbatical, you know, to get my thoughts together. It really helped. For a goy you're a good friend. I decided I'll stay Jewish. Like I have a choice, right?"
"That's great, Gabriel… but …."
"Wait… I've been trying to call you." Gabriel interrupted again. "You don't answer your phone anymore? We're still best friends, right?"
"I… lost my phone," Leonard lied. "It's my fault. I been so busy I haven't gotten around to replacing it yet."
Gabriel was looking at him, strangely. Leonard felt he was looking into him.
"You seem… different," Gabriel said. "Anyway…"
Now Leonard interrupted, "Hey, it's good seeing you again, Gabriel, but I must run. I just stopped by to pick up some things."
"That damn place keeps you going, uh?" Gabriel commented. "By the way…" Gabriel reached into the bag and looking around handed Leonard a smaller, very light weight brown bag. "You're going love this. Primo. No charge. It's on me for the wonderful advice you gave. Oh. And this…." Gabriel put his hand into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet. Juggling the grocery bag to manipulate the content in the wallet he handed Leonard a fancy business card. "A woman came by about a week ago looking for you. Man was she ever gorgeous. I thought maybe she was one of your girlfriends, but she was too pretty for you. Just kidding. She handed me her card and begged me to give it to you. Light-skinned black girl… I mean woman… around early twenties, I guess. So hard for me to tell black people's ages. Anyway, her name's there. She had a serious look in her eyes too; seemed anxious when I told her you were out of town and didn't know when you'd be back. I've been trying to call you to tell you about her. She said it was urgent you get in touch with her. So, make sure you call her. Try to get on a date with her if she isn't married. I'm telling you she's fire."