Chris Abani - The Secret History of Las Vegas

Wow, Sunil said. This is a beautiful ship.

You came, Salazar said, passing him a cup of coffee. He said the last part as though he was genuinely surprised by Sunil’s voice, even though he must have heard him coming.

I brought something for the cold, Sunil said, holding up a bottle of single malt.

Fuck yeah, Salazar said.

So this is the ship you built for that girl from two years ago? The one we never identified.

Yes, yes, this is the one. But you know, it seems like I was building it for more than just her.

I know what you mean, Sunil said, circling the table. It’s really, truly exquisite. Are you sure you want to burn it?

It’s my swan song, my last ghost. I plan to retire soon. So yes, I’m sure.

What’ll you do?

Salazar shrugged. Travel maybe. I’ve never been to Cuba. Or I may stay here but get close to it, like, say, Florida. Open up a shop and build ships for collectors.

That actually sounds fantastic, Sunil said.

You think so? Fuck, that means a lot coming from you.

Sunil coughed and looked away, taking a sip of coffee.

Look at us, being sentimental like a couple of fucking girls, Salazar growled.

Sunil laughed. There’s my Salazar, he said.

He cracked open the bottle, tipping a libation to the ground. Salazar watched.

Force of habit, Sunil said, catching his look.

I was thinking how beautiful it was, Salazar said. My father used to do something similar.

Sunil splashed generous amounts into their coffee cups and took a deep swig from his own.

How’s your throat today, Salazar asked.

Better.

Salazar nodded.

So, exactly how do we do this, Sunil asked.

Well, I think we should say a few words, Salazar said. Taking note of the look on Sunil’s face, he added: Or we could just think of them.

Yeah, that sounds better. You know, it’s just that I’m not that into God.

Salazar nodded. He put his coffee cup down, picked up the bottle of lighter fluid that sat beside the ship, and doused it liberally. Then he delicately lifted the ship and walked over to the water. Sunil followed. By now it was pitch-dark and the only light was the distant glow of Vegas in the background.

The ship bobbed on the water, kept close by Salazar’s foot. Sunil thought Salazar was whispering what must be prayers. And then he realized that it wasn’t Salazar whispering, but him, and that if anything Salazar was waiting for him. The prayer had been a simple one: Forgive me, Mother, forgive me.

Salazar bent down and lit the tip of one sail. He held the ship back until the flames were steady and then he pushed it off with the tip of his shoe.

Both men watched the flaming ship ride out on the dark water. By the time it was halfway out, the flames had climbed to about six feet and spread out, like a being of light was retreating over the waves.

So what will you do now, Salazar asked.

I really don’t know. It seems I do have to go back to South Africa for a while, make amends with my past, my history.

To making peace, Salazar said.

I’ll drink to that.

They stood there, watching the ship sail away, each man lost in thought, lost in his own unique release.

A loon took off from the tamarisk and rose toward the sky.