Madonna in the Back of the Cab

Madonna in the Back of the Cab

“I had that Madonna in the back of the cab once”

“Wow – what’s she like then?”

“Different. This was a while back, before she was famous”

“Hmm – how’d you know it was Madonna then?”

“Aha well – that’s the story isn’t it?”

“Go on. We got some time”

“Well, there was something about her, you know? Just a slip of a girl, but dressed like she wanted to be noticed.”

“How d’you mean?”

“Nothing expensive or flashy, like but gold, black, embroidered. Lot of velvet. Some silk. Thrifted. Carefully. I could tell. The wife’s a thrifter. This girl - she knew what she was doing. I wouldn't say fashionable, but definitely not unfashionable. And not slutty. Like… setting her own trend you know?”

“OK…”

“When I picked her up in Time Square, it was about 10 at night and she was talking to some homeless guy, it looked like. She kissed him and gave him something before getting in the cab.”

“What was it”

“I assumed it was a dime bag, but when I got a good look at her, that seemed unlikely. I wasn't going to ask; wasn't really any of my business, but..”

“but what”

“She told me anyway. Muffin she says. What? I says. Blueberry, from a cart on 42nd - just in case you got the wrong idea, she says. She was looking directly at me – well through mirror you know?”

“Interesting”

“I thought so. It seemed like a kind thing to do. But it was like she read my mind. I got it from the guy on the cart for free. Pretty girls get a lot of free stuff. Old homeless guys not so much. So I’m just evening things out. she says. E – ve – ning, she says. Every syllable”

“Bit of a philosopher or something then”

“Yeah that’s not the half of it. She tells me she’s going to CBGB’s downtown.”

“On stage most likely. Some punk band in those days”

“Yeah well, I told her – could be a fiver or more that time of night. ‘Cause I’m thinking – you know? She’s not about to get a cab-ride for free. I’m not like that food-cart guy. Got mouths to feed. And you know what she does?”

“Er.. jumps out?”

“I’m watching her in the mirror and she reaches into her shirt like they do in the movies and pulls out a wad of cash and starts waving it up and down like she’s fanning herself with it. I got loads of money she laughs. I told her to be careful who she says that to; there’s bad people out in the city at night. And you know what she says?”

“I’m pretty sure I don’t”

“There’s no such thing as a bad person she says. Now, as you probably know, that’s a dangerous attitude at the best of times. In the City in those days, it would get you robbed. Or worse. So I just shook my head. Then I felt like I should at least try to set her straight – Miss, I said, this is not like…– where are you from anyway? Detroit she says. Detroit – I was flabbergasted. There’s bad people in Detroit. That’s for sure. I told her that and she just says - and I’ll never forget this. The line between good and evil runs through the heart of every man”

“Ah.. Solzhenitsyn. Very nice”

“Well I didn't know that at the time. Was never much of a reader. And woman, she adds after a pause. Made me think. I looked at her again in the mirror – lucky I didn't crash the car that night – She had dark, kinda messy, hair back then and very white skin. Hardly any makeup, and a tiny silver cross round her neck. Very beautiful. Like the kind where you forget to breath you know? She reminded me of my mom and my sister also, which I found a bit uncomfortable to be honest. Maybe she was right.”

“About the line? I think she was.”

“Well anyway. We get almost to the end of Bleecker and she tells me – change of plan. She wants to go to Riker’s Island first. I wasn't worried about the money at that point. And it would be a nice fare. But Riker’s? There’s someone I have to see there, she says. I was sure they wouldn’t let visitors in there that time of night, but… fine. So I looped round the club and headed down to the Williamsburg bridge.

“We got to talking - a lot. I asked her who she was going to see. It was a kid she knew, who’d gotten into a spot of bother and well, ended up killing someone in Harlem. Guns, liquor, one word, two boys, one dead. It happens every day, ‘specially back then. Thing is, he stuck around, standing by the body in the street, holding the gun even. He coulda just walked away into the neighborhood and never been caught. Not back then. Half of all murderers in the ghettos were never even arrested. He waited for the cops to come, which took a while. Just stood there, prodding the kid on the sidewalk with his foot, to check if he was dead. A policer cruiser rolls up and the kid fixes the gun on the first cop that gets out, cool as a cucumber like, as if he’d done it a hundred times, which maybe he had.”

“Suicide by cop?”

“Could be. I dunno. The kid was lucky it was Joe McGowan though. An old pro. He just walks up to him calmly and tells him – Hey it was an accident. You thought you were playin’ and he pointed his gun at you. You panicked and yours went off. Then he took a big risk. He says to him – What would your mom say? Now his mom could just as easily have thought her kid should kill the cop. It was that sort of neighborhood. But it seems that got through to him and he lowered the gun and gave himself up.”

“Whoa that’s crazy. But how’d Madonna know this kid?”

“This is where it gets crazier. As we turn onto the BQE, she tells me, she’s the kids mom.”

“What? He’s black though right?”

“Not only that, but well, she didn't seem nearly old enough”

“She’s messing with you. Was she high or something?”

“I dunno. I couldn't stop looking at her though. It’s a wonder I stayed on the road. She looked serious, like she was thinking and her eyes seemed like they were looking all over my face for clues for what I thought. She checked for the cross round her neck and held it for a second. And I asked her – how could she be his mom? And she says I just am. I don't know how this works.”

“What do you think she meant?”

“I took it face value. For a moment she looked helpless. Then she smiled at me, really sweet and says – You better watch the road. I was a little embarrassed her accusing me like that but right when I looked back ahead the car in front stopped short for no reason and I just missed ramming right into him.”

“Lucky”

“I don't think so. She knew. She saved us. I didn't look back in the mirror but I tried to get as much as I could. You know us cabbies. She said she had a dream about this kid and she knew she was his mother. But listen to this. She says God told her. She tells me all matter of fact that she was standing at the foot of the cross just so sad and devastated and Jesus told her woman this is your son and she looked over and instead of St. John, she saw this kid standing there with the gun in his hand staring at her like – it was an accident. I didn't mean to kill him. The next morning she read about what happened in Harlem and she knew this was the kid.”

“Did you believe her?”

“Like I’ve never believed anything else. For the last ten minutes of the ride it seemed like she was asleep. I sneaked a look at her. Her eyes were closed but her lips were moving like she was praying or something. We pull up to the prison entrance and she wakes up, hands me a twenty and tells me I don't have to wait. I said I was waiting as there’s no way they’re letting visitors in there at that time of night. I felt protective, you know? She gets out leans through the window and tells me You should go home. You haven’t slept for 24 hours.

“Was that true?”

“Yep. To the minute. I looked at the clock. Maybe she just said that ‘coz I looked like hell. I dunno. Then I didn't want her to leave. What’s your name hon’? I asked her and she says Madonna – what’s yours. That was kinda nice. No-one asks me my name. After I tell her she just looks at me. That’s a beautiful name, Joseph. She says, then – You’re a good man. It was weird but it didn't feel weird. She kisses me on the cheek.”

“Whoa – making out with Madonna in the cab!”

“It wasn't like that. Anyway then she’s walking up to the prison and it’s like a painting, not quite real you know, and she’s merging into it. And she has this like shawl on. I didn't see it before. Then I don't know if I just noticed but it looked like all the lights went out one by one every window in the whole building and everything outside apart from one above the gate. And the gate opened a crack as she got to it and then… that was it. Gone and the light went out. That place just disappeared into the black like something I’d never witnessed before. There wasn't a light on the island. I only knew one thing. This wasn't normal. I sat looking at where the prison had been because you know, it may not have been there now for all I knew. And after a few minutes, a light went on in one of windows. Just one. And I knew that was her with him in the cell.”

“You waited for her then, right?”

“Of course, but I fell asleep and came to about 8 O’clock. No Madonna. There’s a cop knocking on my window and there’s police and ambulance and fire trucks everywhere. He tells me there was a power outage – the whole place – backups and everything. He tells me lucky no-one was hurt but seems like they all just slept through it, prisoners, guards everyone. He asks me if I saw anything. Nah.. I was asleep. Told me I had to move. No parking zone. I thanked him for not ticketing me and he frowned and walked off.”

“Then what?”

“I went home”

“Yeah but how did you really know that was Madonna. The Madonna?”

“Oh well I haven’t told you the best bit yet. When I get home, I see on the back seat a book. It was a bible – one of those with the nice brown leather cover. I open it up and on the inside cover, she wrote me a message. Here look. See that. That’s her signature.”

Dearest Joseph. Thank You.

Love Madonna ✞

“Oh, right…. The Madonna”

-- The End--