Belly of the Beast Read Online Free PDF

pay phone on the floor—but you can’t go up until you check in.” The clerk pointed to a chair by a dusty plastic palm. “You can wait for the manager there if you want.”
    Niki noted a toothless man on the other side of the palm squeeze the last smoke from a cigarette stub. “I think I’ll clear my head outside,” she said.
    “Suit yourself.”
     
    Back on Lombard Street, a light breeze carried rain, fog, and the smell of fish from the bay. There was no comfort in any of it. Niki wished she were home, but even though the drugs fogged her mind, she knew she could not give up. She’d go to the hospital and convince them to try harder. They’d find a donor, and Alex’s leukemia would be cured. She pictured him skiing down the street, suddenly shook her head, and realized how screwed up she was.
    “I have to clear my head,” Niki said out loud. She started walking.
    After cautiously circling the hotel for half an hour, Niki turned up a steep cross street. Tidy houses lined the way, their ornate bay windows looking hopefully toward a blank seascape; at her feet a rag doll flopped along with the gutter water.
    As the alcohol and Valium wore off, Niki realized she’d be that rag doll if she weren’t careful. I have to get organized. I’ll check with the airline and get my stuff, then call Rob, find out how Alex is, and apologize. Maybe Rob can send me more money. I’ll pay him back, and the two-hundred dollars too. I’ve got to find the hospital. Maybe the airline found my purse.
     
    At the crest of a hill, a glass phone booth sat next to a signpost. Niki stepped inside before remembering she had no change. She stepped back to the rain and banged the post in frustration. A street sign rattled above, dripping water on Niki’s head.
    Niki glared at it. Broadway and Divisadero—Divisadero sounded familiar. Niki opened her notebook. 1600 Divisadero. UCSF Children’s Hospital, Oncology.
    Niki descended the steep sidewalk along Divisadero. After three blocks she saw a white H on a blue sign. Rain soaked through her jacket and wet her cotton blouse, but it didn’t matter. She was getting close. She was going to save Alex.
    Five blocks more and the first five stories of the UCSF Children’s Hospital appeared like a hazy picture of some beach resort. Round balconies and lacy ironwork poked into the fog. Everything was white, dreamlike, a temple of hope.
    An electric bus whizzed by, sparks flying from the overhead cable, wheels thumping a pothole. A sheet of muddy water hit Niki waist high and ran down her beige chinos. Niki closed her eyes and wept. What else can go wrong? Then she remembered going to the hospital was not about her.
    Niki stepped to the entrance, but paused again. Rain soaked her jacket, mud streaked her pants, remnants of the wine and Valium pounded through her head. The automatic doors opened, then shut, opened again, then shut.
    It looked warm inside, but Niki stayed in the cold. I need to make a good impression if I am to be heard. I need to clean up. I need to get some change and call the airline. I’ve got to call Rob.
    Niki turned and walked back toward the top of Divisadero Street, not so fast now, thinking about finding a donor, wishing she had been a match, wishing Rob or his sister had been a match, wishing—
    Those were the days, my friend, drifted across the sidewalk.
    Niki stopped. Her mother used to sing that song in Russian.
    “You like our music?” asked a man in a doorway. He drew heavily on a cigarette stub held between his thumb and forefinger. A small Cyrillic sign in the window beside him said Russian Reading Room.
    Nike stood locked in her own thoughts. After she was deserted as a child, Niki convinced herself that her mother was dead. She had to be, otherwise she would have come back. But many years later, Niki received a letter saying her mother was in San Mateo. Then she wished her mother really were dead. At the very least, she never wanted to see her again. The