I
Thump. Thump.
What the hell?
I forced
myself out of a deep sleep squinting at the alarm clock.
It’s 3 am.
“Mmmm, yeah baby, right there, just like that....don’t stop, don’t stop!”
God, no
I Immediately look next to me to see if
“Don’t you hear that?”, I ask
“Oh, that yeah”, she doesn’t even look up from the screen but releases her
hold on
“We’re in Brooklyn, who the fuck
gets fucked in
“Actually, it’s Wednesday. . .morning”, she corrects me never taking her
eyes from the screen.
Even though we hadn’t moved in long ago the place was immaculate. I had never been one to see cleaning as women’s work but, god, this woman could clean. I could still smell the sting of Clorox from this morning.
“Try get some sleep, Sofie”, I take the computer from her and put it under my side of the bed. I can’t stand the thought of those AIDS supports group websites, I don’t know what knowing every little thing will do for her—us—it’s not going to change anything. I swear I’ve seen her read the end of a book first, know the ending, less fear of the journey.
She lays down facing me but still keeping her distance, Her pretty brown eyes staring back at me, she inches a little closer and brings her mouth to mine for a less than innocent kiss, she deepens the kiss moving so she is straddling my waist, I’m careful not to touch her.
“Okay, stop”, I can’t believe I’m pulling my beautiful wife off me but I don’t need this right now.
I get it, you’re not afraid of me
“Why”, now I’ve made her feel bad, I know she’s trying to help but it’s too much sometimes.
“It’s my tattoo”, I lie referring to work I had done on my arm and back by a college student, his only saving grace was that I designed it myself and am right-handed and not double jointed.
My eyes adjust to the dark and I can make out piles of laundry, art supplies and stacks of paperwork.
Paperwork
I spent months in
The clock ticks to 3:04 am, the bright red numbers are partially blocked by a plastic champagne glass.
“Oh, shit”, I’d fallen asleep, “
She opens her eyes and says something with her hand covering her mouth, I have to move her hand and ask her to repeat herself, she does this a lot.
“Its okay,
“Happy Anniversary, My love”
I doubt she heard me
+++
Steady
Steady
I carefully balanced myself against the pole with one hand the other firmly
placed around
I loosen my grip on her as when the train screeches to a halt. She takes my gloved hand when we reach the street, it’s the middle of December and there was a light snow last night. We reach our destination a few blocks down after stopping for a caffeine fix(her a black tea, me an energy drink); The space is small compared to most but the large back is what made it appeal to me the most.
“What shall we do today”, I say to no one in particular while sliding the key in the door.
“Sofie”, I call to her from the other side of the room a cigarette itching to be lit in my fingers, “Sofia” she ignores me, “ I just want to give you a little pric-“
A tiny bell goes off followed by the click of red heels, fish net stocking and a short skirt followed by bright red lips and dark eyes that could have only walked out of a 50’s pin-up.
“Hey”, the girl smirks at me, “Should you really be smoking in here ?”
“No, but I am the owner”, I put the butt out in an ashtray, “Welcome to Alley-Roses, let’s see if we can find a tattoo for you.
+++
When I was eleven years old I remember sitting in the principal’s office, ready to defend myself and actually mean it. I hadn’t gotten into fights, fallen asleep or stolen anything it had been a good day, yet there I was waiting.
My mother rushed in in a complete panic taking the secretaries by surprise in her sparkly shirt and big heels. She checked me for bruises and scolded me for embarrassing her parenting skills and something about wasn’t it bad enough she had to buy reduced lunch and participate in special programs.
She somehow pulled herself together and we walked into face my punishment. Mr. Adagio was in his office with my favorite teacher Ms. Penelope, my Art teacher.
“Ms. Alexander”, Ms. Penelope got right to the point, “Tomas is a wonderful
student a little hyperactive but a very talented little artist and we think he
would do wonderfully in an
The principal nodded in agreement, clearly proud that I hadn’t proven to be a complete waste.
My Mother smiled and in a sincere voice (with just a hint of her accent) said, “Ma’am that’s wonderful, it really is but I’m a 28 year old single mother who works hard enough to make barely make ends met (this would later become the motto of my life), I understand love for the arts, I do. But I need my son to go college and concentrate on a real education, but thank you.”
With that she walked me out of school after dropping me from art class, but I had heard them. I was talented.
I should have dropped out of school then because I don’t remember learning anything else from school, the day
of graduation I skipped out and found my self an apprenticeship at River Dis.
Tats & Piercing. ... Of course that
was before the cancer.
“Alley-Rose ?”,says the Pin-Up girl, shifting slightly as the last bit of color pigmented her skin, “That’s a nice name”
“Yeah”, I agreed, knowing it implied explanation, “Rose is my mother’s first name, my last name is Alexander. . . Alex-Rose, Alley-rose”
She smiles showing she understood
“I think we’re just about done”, I say, “I think it’s a very pretty flower.
. .
“I still don’t see why you couldn’t use the print-out I bought in”, the Pin Up Girl says.
“sorry I only do originals. . .
honey.”, it would be cold day in hell if I ever had to trace something again, “
“Please Sofie, I’m in the middle of something . . . just close your eyes”
The Pin Up girl gives me a strange look but
“Fuck”, I mumble under my breath. I quickly ring the girl up and ask her to wait a minute.
There is a short hallway that leads to the back room that was once probably a garage. I had decided to use it for storage. I make my way past the boxes of ink, needles and to where Sophia is sitting on the floor right where I knew she would be; one hand on a pure white casket in the middle of the floor.
My casket
The lid is already outlined with a stylistic rendering of all the places
I’ve worked, and my childhood home, bordered with array of honeysuckles. Her
fingers are smudging a few blades of grass, but I can redo those later. It’s my
Pièce de résistance, the last piece of
artwork I will probably do.
The Last Peace, I called it.
“Sofie”, I help her up from the floor, she buries her head in my chest, not letting go of her I put the cover back on the casket, where it belongs for now, and sit her down in the hallway.
“Are you going to be okay”, I ask her knowing I set this whole thing in motion.
“Yes”, it’s good to hear her voice
I finish up with the girl in the front, deciding to leave
+++
“Good luck will find its way to you”, I read the fortune over in my head again before tossing the slip of paper away.
“You find beauty in ordinary things, do not lose this ability”, Sofie stares intently at hers
“That’s nice”
“I like yours better”, she admits
“Sofie?”
“Yes”
“You know Christmas is coming up and I was thinking of going. . . home, I
need to do some things. . . I know you don’t want to be here alone, so, maybe you
could visit Angeline, in
“I don’t have a passport but, I mean, I guess I could see my Mom”
I try not to show how surprised I am.
“I can get you a plane ticket—”
“I’ll miss you”, I hate it when she says that it always comes out of context with me
“It’s just a few days, Eric can watch
“There is something else isn’t there”, she’s picked up on the tension in my voice
“Yes”, I take her hand, “Sofie, when we get back I’m going to ask you to do something you’re not going to like but you have to promise me you’ll do it, please”
“I promise”, her voice is shaky but a promise is a promise, “I’m going to bed”
I give her a good-night kiss putting a little extra effort trying to get my tongue in her mouth.
“Oh my god”, she holds her hand to her mouth; I try not to laugh, “When did you get a tongue ring? Why?”
“3 days ago, and mostly because I could”
I can tell she’s is suppressing a laugh but it only takes seconds for her to get serious
“You have to get rid of it, you could get an infection . . .why don’t you think of these things, Tomas ? You can’t expect me to do everything.”
It’s probably the most words I’ve heard from her all week, but honestly, it was worth it.
II
A round trip plane ticket cost more than I was willing to pay, but this was
my present to her from me. The morning before her flight left we decided to
make a day out of it and went every tourist trap
“Are you sure you want to do this”, I ask her for the 5th time today except now we are standing in front of the airport terminal and I know she can’t say no .
“Yes, um, I bought you a present and put it in your bag but don’t open it till Christmas, and just remember to take your meds, okay”
“Okay, I’ll call you”
“Good-bye”, She gives me a quick hug and head towards the gate.
I stick around till her plane takes off and head back to the studio keeping the sign flipped to ‘Closed’. Taking a deep breath I walk into the back and remove the tarp. With pencil in hand I start outlining the side not thinking about what it is but just how I have to complete it.
I don’t get home till hours later, which gives me just enough time to throw some clothes together and get to the bust station just seconds before it pulls out. It’s not till I notice the other passengers dressed in Christmas sweaters and carrying bright packages do I realize I should have bought gifts, I had the whole trip ahead of me to think about it.
The bus rolls into Petal Brooke at noon, leaving half the day still there to
live. I decide to rent a car and drive around town a bit before reaching my
destination, I’m tempted to drive by
Across the great dividing bridge
I drive along a section of
I make my way up the path and knock on the door. I hear the sound of footsteps a small woman opens the door with curly blonde hair and bright sea green eyes.
“Emma”
“Tomas ?”
No sooner does my name leave her lips a young toddler runs into her arm, I can’t help but to smile.
“I came home, baby”
+++
I messed up in High School, as far as I was concerned I’d graduate for my mothers sake and figure out what I wanted to do with the rest of my life, I guess being a teenager had made me jaded about becoming an artist. I shut up did the work and occasionally came to class drunk, no one ever gave me a second look until I met Emma Masen.
Emma transferred to River High second semester and not only ended up in my math class but on the first day joined me, sitting alone, in the back row.
“Are you like a fucking genius or something ?”, were the first words she said to me. She was probably commenting on my lack of school supplies. I glanced over at her but found myself staring at her swollen belly.
“See something you like?”, she asked preceding to take out her notebooks and colored gel pens.
“Not especially”, I said
She passed me a sheet of paper and pencil and turned her attention back to cosigns and tangents. I decided to ignore the weird pregnant girl but after class the teacher asked me to take her to the lunch room, I think I only did it because she followed me and I felt sorry for her.
“You should have lunch with me”, she said finding a table that she liked
I had to admit she was pretty cute. Curly blonde hair that was dyed pink on the end, her eyes sparkled a little when she blinked. I sat across from her and started working on a sketch of the school, on fire.
“So, do I know him?” I asked not looking up, “The guy who . . .”
“Probably not”, was all she said, “He’s not really in the picture
“Oh . . . it’s not one of those he’s your father or teacher kind’ve deals”
“Jesus Christ, so what if it was?”
I shook my head and went back to my sketch
“My mom had me when she was young by herself, it sucks by the way”, I hadn’t known were that came from, I guess I was bitter.
“Hey, can you draw butterflies?”
I decided to end the conversation there and drew some butterflies for her when lunch was over she took the page wishing me a good weekend.
On Monday Emma found me walking into school she was beaming and I had to slow down a bit so she could keep up.
“I have something to show you!” she flipped her wrist over and there was one of my butterflies tattooed on her arm.
“Shit, that’s amazing”, I rubbed at her wrist,”How did you do that”
“My brother—who is also not the father—bought a tattoo machine off line”
“He found a tattoo machine on line ?”
She nodded and before we reached the steps of the school I offered to carry her books for her, but I was still reeling over my art being on someone, permanently. Hell, it made me feel immortal. Of course it also made me happy, she made me happy.
Emma spent most of her free time at home with either at her Mom’s house or her Dad’s house (across town) or going to the hospital I was always glad to keep her company, at home that is, I hated hospitals.
“So”, I’d said on Saturday evening while burning my fingers with matchsticks (this was when I started smoking), “You’ve been missing school lately”
“Oh, please”, she said patting her stomach, “I’m about to pop what’s your excuse”
“I don’t know, everyone thinks I’m going to all Columbine and shit on the school”
“They do not”, she lied so well, “But you know what they do think”
I ignored her and finally lit my cigarette taking a slow drag.
“I want to learn how to do that”, I finally said
“What ? get a girl pregnant because first you have to—“
“No”, I said pointing to her tattoo
“I’m sure my brother can teach you, or whatever”
“Yeah, I could spend more time with you”
“I’d like that”
I put out my cigarette in the dirt, and wanted to find some way to hold how to hold onto that moment before it went away, before I had to go home or to school; I kissed her; she didn’t seemed surprised but more like she was waiting.
+++
4 years later and she was still wearing that sparkly eye shadow, not missing beat she invites me in.
“Wow, I haven’t seen you since. . .”
“Yeah”, I said not quite ready to hear it again.
“What’s it been like a year?” she motions for me to sit on the couch.
“Give or take”
She hands me a mug and it takes me a while to adjust to the coffee and the way she is smiling at me.
“So, I’ve been hearing things”, she says teasingly while watching Danny play in the next room.
“Okay, tell me what you know and I’ll tell you what’s true”
“Alright, well first that you went to prison and that you talked some rich girl into marrying you, oh, you look great by the way. I’d almost forgotten what you looked like with hair”
“All true, but in addition to all that I moved to
“Oh, wow so Tomas Alexander actually lost his V-card”
“Not exactly”, I really should have just lied
“Okay, has a girl even seen your dick since I gave you a blow jo-“
“Christ, your son is right there”
She laughed and now that she was in a good mood I decided it was time I got to the point .I put the mug down and tried to think of the best way to get the root of the conversation. I decided to start with the facts. I told her how I’d moved and started using more and even the detail of being told I should be tested from the guy I was buying from something I realized hadn’t told Sofia.
When it came to the end and why I was here I realized how easy it was to talk about it, how easy it was to say.
I have AIDS
I have 2 Years to live
If I’m lucky
She stayed quiet during the entire thing and I could have hugged her for not crying. I couldn’t take anymore tears. I didn’t want to ask to much of her but she agreed to let me stay with her during my visit.
I tried to be a helpful guest but I felt it was best to keep my distance. I slept comfortably on the couch that night and before I knew it I was drowning.
I was standing by the river bank alone. The water looked so peaceful so clean; I stepped closer until I could feel the warm water at my feet, but I couldn’t stop there. I kept walking; not even holding my breath as the water engulfed me.
Then I was in control again, I reached for the surface but something was pulling me down, I took one deep breath of water and woke up on Emma’s couch. My body was covered in a thin layer of sweat, it felt like a million fucking degrees.
I throw my coat on and go outside for a quick smoke, the cold air cools me back down and I try to find sleep again.
+++
I had spent Christmas Eve at my mother’s last year, it was nice except for the part where I was dragged away and arrested by the police. This year had to be different. I left Emma’s house early and started my Christmas shopping. I decided to humor myself and see what was popular at Angeline’s department store.
I ended up buying my Mom one of those birthstone-family necklaces with an emerald, she loved stuff like that. By the time I got back to Emma’s she and Danny were making grilled cheese sandwiches or lunch, I felt like I was intruding.
“Are you hungry ?”, she asked, “You can watch Danny and I’ll get you a sandwich”
“Sure”, I said dropping my bag and taking a seat by the high chair., “Hey, Danny. . . you probably don’t remember me but your mom and I were best friends”
I take my cell phone out of my pocket and realize it’s down to the last bar and decide to turn it off
+++
I was 19 and for what wouldn’t be the first time being told by doctors that I was going to die. It was exactly how people always described it, I had gone in for a check and they found something, I had leukemia and to me that was a big scary word but I guess I’d later learn that even small words can be scary.
My mother took me down to the closest church she could find and sought out the pastor, we stayed in his office and prayed for hours. After 24 hours to get used to the idea I went to tell Emma.
She was never religious type, she didn’t make some speech about “fighting this” she didn’t cry she was just there and I had forgotten about that.
+++
Later that night after Emma had put Danny to bed she joined me in the living room, with that dead man walking look I was getting accustomed to.
“This really isn’t fair”, she said taking a bite out of Santa’s cookies, “coming back into my life to tell me your’re going to leave”
“I know, but I have very few good friends and it’s important to have those. . . apparently”, I gave up on trying to quote some dealing with death brochure.
“So, if my mom, God rest her soul, wouldn’t have been so overbearing would you have helped me raise Danny?”
“I don’t know, I mean I’ve always wanted to be a father a part of me still does. . . I guess knowing what I know now, maybe.”
“You’d be a terrible father”, she says
“Thanks”
“No, I mean you can barley take care of yourself sometimes, do you really think you can manage someone else ?”
Our conversation lulls from their after a while we both decide to wait up for Santa and as expected we fall asleep.
+++
The next morning I realize I’m about to give my mother the worst Christmas possible
but I have to be back in
I knock on the door, a guy in his late twenties answers, he’s most likely a new boarder and from his lack of enthusiasm, Jewish
“Is Rose here ?”
“Who?”
” Rose Alexander she’s lived her for 10 years”
“Sorry, Man”
I look around for any signs of my mother, but the yard is too clean the new furniture and carpet makes me think she moved. The guy swears he has no idea what I’m talking about and rented the house through a newspaper ad. I run back to Emmas house demanding answers from her, she also doesn’t know anything.
“Is she with him ?”, it’s my final conclusion.
“Your Dad ? I don’t know”
“Shit, what does she just want to be used as a punching bag ?”
“Do you want me to call ?”, she asks I nod my head she goes into the next room to make the phone call, Emma reemerges minutes later.
“First, your Dad said Merry Christmas and that he hasn’t seen her since you had your transplant.”
“He’s an atheist so that first part was him mocking me and second where the fuck is she ?”
I drive by all my mother’s favorite places that are open the nail salon, the restaurant she worked at no one knew when she had left.
I bought my mother necklace for Christmas
She gave me a slap in the face.