Victor Lavalle - Slapboxing with Jesus

— At least you dance well. But it looks a little simple.

I laughed as I worked. — You know how hard it is to make this look easy? You’re witnessing magic here. I turned to her as she sliced at some green peppers; she put her back into it. Deidre laughed while feeding me a piece. As she ate some, her lips chewing looked so good I just had to take that first kiss; she put her hand on my chest. She turned her face. — Let’s eat.

I sat. She set out the meal. — So you still just out for ass?

— No doubt, I said. Of course. Why?

She ate some of the fish. — I’m saying, I see you getting all sweet on me.

I shook my head deliberately. — I think you’ve got that backward.

— Okay, she said. Sure.

Then Deidre was on the goddamn phone with me and I had to watch the digital lines on the clock for sixty seconds, it was really two in the morning — a week since we’d had dinner at her house. I had to touch my face to make sure I was the man saying, — It’s okay, when she apologized for calling in the middle of good sleep. What’s the problem?

Her voice was achy, like not in a good way. She wasn’t answering my question when she spoke. I told her, as I rested my foot flat against the wall, — I bet you have a sweet singing voice.

— You don’t have to try and say nice things like that anymore. I already like you.

I thought, Okay.

— From my window, she said, I can see New Jersey.

— I know good people out in Jersey.

— Women?

— I know some women in Jersey, I agreed. My room in the dark was someplace different from the spot I lived in when the sun was up. In a way, I hadn’t lied to her that day we met, I was prettier in the dark, or I pretended to be. When you become an adult you accept what makes you wonderful and, if lucky, what falls short. Like my face, I was still very happy with the package, but in the dark the fun is that you can be anything. Why not pretty? That was only sometimes anyway. Other nights, alone or with company, in the shadows I was a crocodile or a ring-tailed lemur. I answered before she needed to ask, No, I have not slept with all of them.

— Only fucked them, right?

— No semantics please. Most of those women have never seen me naked.

— I see, she whispered. So they’re the lucky ones.

I brought my feet across the wall, left foot close to the pipe that ran bright-hot and could burn your skin quick with just a touch. As I spoke to Deidre I tested myself, seeing how close I could come without getting my toes baked. I said, — I’m a man who lives on the edge of danger.

She cleared her throat. — You are a man who puts numbers in a computer.

— Yeah, but they’re big numbers. Really big.

Deidre blurted out, — My brother got his car stolen. Out in Long Island, you believe that? Long Island is where you go to get away from that shit.

I laughed, made a bad joke.

She was on the other end of the line saying nothing; I was being funny and she was taking her brother’s loss to heart. She said, — So I just heard about it and then, it’s pretty stupid, but I got nervous. I wanted to hear that you were okay.

— I’m fine, I assured her. I caressed the phone with my fingertip like that would calm her down. You know, from my window, I can only see three stars.

She asked, — How many did you think you would see? This is Manhattan.

I shrugged. — I figured at least one constellation.

— Okay Copernicus, she sighed.

We were slow to hang up, but in that time we didn’t say more.

——

Wednesday and she had no classes, no work. I left early to meet her for lunch. The last thing I was doing when she told me she was free was filing report number DS-1771 from the Federal Communications Commission, it was exactly a year old, the information, that’s how far behind our office was. But I left anyway and in twenty-five minutes Deidre and I were walking to a pizza shop in El Barrio; that seemed like a shame so I dragged her to Cuchifritos instead. I watched her face and the people around us; everyone looked great, even the ugly people. It’s the truth, I was comparing myself to some of the worst mugs on the block and coming up short. This fact wasn’t destroying me. Any man who could be unhappy walking with Deidre deserved a stoning. I was not winning that lottery.

She stopped walking and turned to me. Her thick braids were long, swinging into her eyes; the whole thing could have been a movie poster. Whatever she was about to say, I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want any of this cool shit between us now, no mood for humor. I opened my arms and pulled her close to me, held her tight enough that she might remember the grip for a long time.

When we walked into the restaurant I ordered some chicken and pork; yeah, that’s right, some motherfucking pork. I sat at the counter while she slid right to get some drinks; when she sat back down we were still quiet. Finally she said, — I like watching people walk by.

I nodded. — Me too.

It was the middle of the afternoon; so many people rushed past outside that it was hard to make one person solid, turn our attention to him. Across from the restaurant a storefront was being redone, blue canvas flaps hung down over the windows, they were still open for business. I pointed. — What kind of store do you think that is?

She was eating, but talked with her mouth full, that’s how great she was. — I don’t know, she said. A stationery store? Magazines?

I smiled. — Maybe, but look, it’s only men going in and out of there.

— Oh, you’re right. And ugly ones.

I laughed happily. — I bet you could picture me coming out of somewhere like that.

She looked at me.

— No, she said. I couldn’t.

Rob eats pussy like a champ.

He’s on awful knees that should have been turned in months ago; they are now numb. He should be getting ready for school; tenth grade is usually the age of football teams and part-time work.

She says, — Don’t stop, through those teeth so white Rob was sure they were caps when he met her in front of the Disney store in Times Square and Andre was across the street in his jacket blue like veins, gesturing to her, Rob’s customer. There’s a lamp on the nightstand, weak and sputtering light.

Outside the sun is a rumor; maybe in one hour it’ll be up and they have been on that bed together for much longer. He has been doing the same thing continuously, except for breaks when it’s understandable that muscles tire and freeze; then he drinks handfuls of cold, cold water from the sink in the bathroom.

— Don’t you fucking stop.

She has soft skin everywhere and does nothing he might call work. This woman doesn’t have rough fingers like secretaries who must type and dial phones all their lives or lawyers who look tired and must win every argument; not even models who are so pretty, or pretend to be, that they would never have to pay for an ugly little kid to eat their pussies. Her legs and thighs are draped over his shoulders, her ass somewhere in that space between him and the bed; he wants to tell her that his shoulders hurt, but will he?

No.

In front of Disney, Rob had moved to touch her face, but the collar of her jacket was pulled up and flopping like mud flaps. She had to speak to him through them, saying, — It’s so windy out. She stepped away. — Sure, Rob said.

Then on the train they were moving fast, it was nighttime. When he asked, — So how’d you meet Andre? she pulled something invisible up between them.

After the Columbia University stop their car and all the ones trailing and leading were just mobile testaments to the lingering effects of miscegenation.

Eventually, the train rumbled and stopped and jerked forward; he touched her arm. — Let’s go. In the air Spanish was being spoken. Rob took her to the same motel as his men, walked the same path; he could see his footprints in the concrete.