You get in trouble? the tattooed man asked.
No. Whenever somebody got killed who wasn’t supposed to, we just dropped a weapon on them, or some wire, if we had to.
So you’re slick.
Not so much slick as experienced. As far as that, maybe.
But tell me, how did the song go?
I’m not singing it.
We have a song like that too, I think, in my country. It’s called a wedding song, the way we sing it. You tell a woman, she got two choices: you can love me for tonight, or you can marry my gun and he will love you forever.
Pulling up his clean white sweater, he showed Skinner the tattoo on his forearm.
What’s that supposed to be?
She getting fucked. Real good. With a plastic bag over her head.
Skinner laughed. You’re a fuckin idiot.
The handsome man laughed too. You see? You laughing. May as well enjoy it.
Who’s that behind her?
There was a skeleton with a pistol aimed at the asphyxiating woman’s head.
That’s the best man she ever gonna know.
YOU ARE HERE FOR me at all? she asked Skinner.
What more do you want?
I feel like everything it’s just my problem.
He heard this with a disturbing lack of surprise, failing to remonstrate.
I don’t know what to do, if I can get married with you, if it put me in trouble, I don’t know. I try to figure it out, it’s okay, but it’s no one I can ask. Everything cost money—
You mean, this is about money?
No, it’s not about the money—
After all the times I took you out?
No, it’s not money! Money, it makes me worry, but it’s the small thing compared with somethings else.
In mid-sentence, she started crying, wiped her face and kept trying to talk.
Something else is more important, I know. I don’t want to ask nothing out of you, out of no one, I rather to be alone than take advantage from you. I’m worry for you all this time. I see you stay inside this room and I feel scared. What happens to you, I don’t know. So I try to bring you some things too. I can’t do much because of money. If I have a way, I would take you to the hospital, Skinner. I would give anything I have, because if I lose you, I feel like I’m losing everything.
She kept wiping the tears off her face so she could keep talking to him.
And you hurt me, Skinner. You hurt me so much. You throw me away, leave me in the street, you run away. And you don’t call me, not for two or three day. You don’t think about that! You never even say sorry to me. Why not? Because you don’t have to, because I’m Muslim people, immigrant? So you don’t respect? If it was your mother, you would leave her like that? I give myself to you. To you maybe it’s just nothing, some girl like this dirty book you read, some garbage person. Is it true?
No! he said, That’s not true. I never thought of you like that. I never treated you like garbage.
You say, to get married, fine, it doesn’t matter whether we do or not, like you don’t care.
Treat you like garbage? he repeated, squinting at the basement wall. I never once treated you like garbage. Don’t go saying I did. You want to talk about garbage, I know a little something about that, and you haven’t been getting treated like garbage, not from me. I’ve seen a few people getting treated like garbage and it doesn’t look like this. It’s a little bit different from this. I’d say this is pretty good. There’s a long way down from here. And I’m sorry if I’m not perfect. I’m really sorry if I ruined your plans on Saturday when I took you out, yet again, for lunch. I’ve done a lot of things wrong. I guess that’s just another one. Have to add that in to all my other mistakes. Sorry you had to meet a fuckup. Sorry I’m not your idea of a perfect whatever. Yeah, I’m real sorry. As you sit there and tell me what you want from me. As you order me to marry you the proper way.
She rubbed her face in the crook of her elbow, muttered, I don’t talk to you.
Man, he said, whew. He bit his lip, shaking his head. I don’t know… No, you’re gonna talk to me. You’re not gonna call me a shitbag to my face. In my room. In my country. That I fought for. While you did what? Sneaked over the border? Yeah. I owe you. Here. Let me see what I got.
He took his wallet off the bedside table and threw it across the room. It hit her chest and fell on the floor. She stood up immediately to leave him.
Wait! he said, jumped up, and tried to stop her. She went crazy fighting him, kicking. He held her around the waist, pulling her back to the bed. No! she cried. They fell. Wait, wait, wait, I’m sorry — he repeated, saying it in her ear, driving his weight into her on the mattress. She headbutted him sideways, twisted under him and punched him in the head. He got on top of her, tried to pin her arms. She kneed him in the back. He winced. She stared up at him through her hair all wild around her panicked desperate face, covered in sweat and tears. They looked at each other. She kneed him in the back again where she had hurt him the first time.
Go ahead. Get it out of your system.
She kneed him again.
He frowned.
I hope it hurt, you fucking asshole. You call me NAMES? she screamed. NAMES? Sini sikey kot ghuy. She bucked and swiped at his face again. You don’t know how scared you will be. I take your eye. I’m sorry, he said. She laughed at him and went wild trying to hit him.
Please don’t fight, he said.
I hate you.
That’s fine. I just don’t want anyone getting hurt.
I hate you. You had me but now you don’t. Now you will be alone. Get off me.
He got off her.
She got up off the bed and straightened up her shirt and pants, fixed her hair. He asked her what she was doing. She told him, it was finished — meaning they were.
Zooey, please don’t go.
She looked right through him to the door through which she would be leaving and told him to get out of her way. His begging didn’t move her. This was really it.
Skinner said, I can’t believe this. I didn’t know this would happen today. His voice had gotten quiet and shaky.
You get what you wanted.
It’s not what I wanted.
Since he couldn’t change her mind about leaving, there was one thing she should know before she left. He moved from the door. I’m not stopping you — you can go any time you want — I’m just showing you something.
She watched while he fetched his assault pack, sat down, unzipped the pouch, reached in and pulled his hand out holding a heavy military-issue handgun. It took her brain an extra second to see this.
Don’t be scared, he said, pointing the weapon at his head.
Skinner, don’t!
It’s okay. Don’t move. You’re fine right there. Just listen. I want you to know something. I’m — his face cringed and tears rivered over his cheeks. He paused. I’m no good. I’m no good. I’m no fucking good. I’m no fucking good. I want to die. No one knows. I’m sorry. I’m really. He paused again. I’m sorrier than I can tell you. You deserve better. But never doubt you meant the world to me. You can go now. He closed his eyes and breathed.
Skinner, I’m coming toward you. Don’t do anything. Just take calm. I touch your arm. This my hand. I am friend.
With the lightest touch, as if she were holding a nightingale in one of her mother’s stories, she placed her hands on his arm and gently guided the weapon down from his head. She had to take his fingers off the handle one by one, lifted the firearm out of his grasp and set it as far away as she could in the corner.
They lay holding each other on his bed for a long time.
I say a prayer to God for us.
Thank you. Tell him I said hi.
Later he asked if she still wanted to leave him, and she shook her head.
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