Then he heard Danny’s voice. “You son of a bitch!” He heard more glass breaking and another scream, not Danny. A terrified, inhuman sound.
Adam ran outside. He saw a tangle of legs, four of them, kicking against the shards of glass that littered the street. They were hanging out the driver’s door of a red coupe Adam didn’t recognize. Danny’s car was parked behind it.
Adam sprinted over as Danny slid out from the coupe and onto his knees, pulling the other man after him by his belt. Adam could hear Danny’s grunt over the man’s screams as Danny ground the face of the other man into the asphalt and the glass. Adam shouted and Danny looked up at him for less than a second, but there was no recognition in his eyes. Danny stood up and kicked at the man once, twice, grunting like an animal each time. Adam tried to drag Danny away, pulling at his shoulders, but Danny shoved him, knocking Adam to the ground.
Adam screamed, “Stop it, Danny! Let him go!” But Danny didn’t respond. There was no indication he even heard. Adam got up off the ground and tried to grab Danny’s shoulders again, but Danny twisted away and then turned back toward the man on the ground. Adam saw an opening, and he took it. He punched Danny, connecting hard enough with his cheek that Danny rocked backward. “Let him go,” Adam said. “Let him go.”
For a moment, Adam wasn’t sure what Danny would do, but Danny held up his hands and walked in a tight circle, breathing hard. The man was stirring, Adam saw, but he was in bad shape. The light from the streetlamps was enough to illuminate streaks of blood in the street and in the driver’s seat of the car.
Danny looked untouched except for the bruise that was already rising on his cheek from where Adam had hit him. Only his hands were bloody. He was bent over now, breathing heavily, his hands on his knees.
The other man moaned, and Adam turned to see him roll over onto his side. His suit jacket was bunched under his armpits and his pants had twisted so that his belt buckle was a few inches to the right of center. The man turned his head as Adam knelt down toward him; Adam stared, open mouthed, at the man’s battered face and at the blood running from his nose down to his collar, staining his white dress shirt. The man looked young, Adam thought, just a few years out of college. He had probably been handsome a few minutes before.
“We’ve got to get this guy to a hospital,” Adam said. “Call an ambulance.”
Danny shook his head. He was kneeling in the street now, just clear of the glass, panting. Adam thought he looked like he might cry. “We can’t,” he said. “We can’t. Adam, please.” He implored Adam with his eyes. “You could say you found him in an accident at the side of the road, couldn’t you? You could put him back in the car and drive him to the hospital yourself.”
The man had raised himself to his hands and knees. His face was low to the ground.
Adam shook his head. He wondered if Danny had lost his mind. “Help me get him inside,” he said. “You can call from inside.” He pointed to a house across the street where a light had just turned on.” “Come on, Danny. Any second, people are going to come out here to see what’s going on. It’s going to look a lot better if you’re the one who calls the ambulance.”
Danny hesitated for just a second before he nodded his assent. He lumbered to his feet, and he and Adam each took an arm and helped the man up. They walked him inside, bearing most of the man’s weight between them. Adam closed the door behind them after they deposited the man in an easy chair in Danny’s living room.
Danny dialed 911 and paced back and forth to the kitchen as he spoke to the operator. Adam asked the man his name and if he needed anything. The man just held his hand up and turned away. When Adam went to the kitchen, Danny was already off the phone. “They should be here any minute,” Danny said. “I don’t feel good about this. I wish you’d listened to me. I wish you drove him yourself.”
“And I wish you didn’t make a bloody mess of his face, so I guess we’re both disappointed, Danny.” He tore a few paper towels off their roll, wet them under the sink, and squeezed them out.
“Hey, don’t be sarcastic with me!” Danny said. “He got off easy. He had a lot of balls coming here.” They were both silent for a few seconds before Danny said, “I’m going to check on Henry.”
“Great. I’m going to see if your buddy will let me help him clean up before the ambulance arrives.”
Danny stopped on his way out of the kitchen and turned to look at Adam. “He’s not my buddy. He’s Rose’s boyfriend.”
A police car arrived before the ambulance. Adam opened the door when he saw the car pull up, lights flashing and sirens at full blast. Two officers were inside the house moments later, and Danny came downstairs. The panic in Danny’s eyes when he saw the police in his living room tore at Adam. But Danny’s expression quickly changed. It was as if a tremendous weight had been lifted from him.
“Tommy!” he said to one of the officers. “Am I glad to see you! You remember Tommy, Adam. He was in my class.”
There was another siren, and then a wail from upstairs. “Henry’s up,” Adam said. “No one could sleep through all this. I’ll try to settle him.”
“Are you the one who phoned in the complaint?” Adam heard Tommy ask as he ascended the stairs.
“Yeah, but it’s okay. I’m all right,” Danny said. As Adam entered Henry’s room, he heard Danny say, “That guy attacked me. Take a look at this bruise. We had some words and he took a swing at me.”
Adam closed the door behind him as he made his way to Henry’s crib, glad to be upstairs, in the dark, far from Danny’s disaster downstairs. He picked Henry up and rocked him for about ten minutes until he was sound asleep.
When Adam had made his way back to the living room, he saw paramedics examining the man in the chair, asking him questions, checking his vision, feeling his bruises.
Tommy, the police officer Danny knew, was asking, “Are you saying he didn’t have a weapon of any kind, Danny?” He and Danny were standing close to each other, too close, Adam thought. Tommy’s tone was all business now.
Adam said, “Danny, stop for a second. Maybe you should call your lawyer. Do you have the number in your phone?”
Danny shook his head, truculent, defiant. He didn’t take his eyes off Tommy. “I don’t need a fucking lawyer, Adam. This is my home. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
The paramedics had finished their examination. The one who seemed to be in charge came over to where Danny and the police were standing and said, “Concussion. Broken nose for sure. Some abrasions. Minor cuts . . . we removed some small shards of broken glass from his head. He’s lucky. It could have been a lot worse.”
“What about me?” Danny asked. He pointed at his cheek.
The paramedic took him by the chin and turned his head a few degrees. “A bruise,” he said. “Put some ice on it.” He turned to the police officers. “Can we take Mr. Calloway to the hospital?”
“OK, take him,” Tommy said.
The other officer said, “You’re in serious trouble, Mr. Blumberg. We’re going to have to take you into the station.”
“He came to my house!” Danny said. “He attacked me! What the hell country is this where I can’t defend myself right in front of my own house? In my own home?”
“You can file a complaint against Mr. Calloway if you want to, Mr. Blumberg, but even if he hit you first, with your injuries that’s a misdemeanor assault. Smashing an unarmed man’s head into a car window, breaking bones . . .