Jeffery Allen - Rails Under My Back

So.

Collar turned up, he agreed. The coffee had formed a warm sanctuary inside him. He felt free from the fears that had choked him in the funeral parlor. They left the coffee shop and took the train to Circle Park.

They strolled in the cold night. The sky sat awake above them. The air clean and stinging the nose. From a vast black vault, stained with city lights and stars — the floodlights of heaven — millions of snowflakes drifted down silently in a straight path. Brilliant moonlight transfigured her red-and-black sailor’s cap, her black wool scarf and matching gloves, her body-hiding coat which reached down to her ankles, and her black leather boots that came above her knees. They strolled through darkness spangled with wet snowflakes. The night widened around them. Except on those lucky occasions when the moon shone just right, Elsa’s face was lost in the shadows. Tracing a huge circle, Hatch and Elsa covered the entire park.

They found a quiet bench. He sat down facing her, so close their knees touched. They spoke in the perfumed darkness. He saw her in sharp detail in the moonlight. He hoped the darkness would protect his face, make him appear even the slightest bit handsome. He took both her hands in his. He kissed one hand, gently, a small trembling bird.

In the subway, they held hands while the panting monster of a train screamed down the tracks. He took her home through the flying underbelly of the city and on the El, the city’s high skin above. She invited him inside. The Bishops had painted every room of their house yellow, pink, or purple.

You know us Puerto Ricans, Elsa said.

Damn.

It’s even too much for Dad sometimes.

The colors mean something?

Nothing that I know of.

Wood furniture, banisters, walls, and floors. Hatch had never seen so much wood in a home. A forest in a house. Damn.

I had a wonderful time, she said.

Me too.

She kissed him with a foreshadowing of tongue.

He ran back to the El, with a thread of breath almost too thin to pull him up the stairs. Caught another train. He sang silently while it barreled down the tracks.

Lil piece of wheat bread

Lil piece of pie

Gon have that yaller gal

Or else I’ll die

The words almost spilled into sound. Once home, he tried to settle back into his skin.

WINTER DEEPENED. HUGE wet flakes of snow streamed past windows. Gray slush in the streets. Then the hawk wind rose from the lake. Frozen birds rattled in the cold.

A crystal net of ice covered the city. Hatch rose early to meet Elsa in the privacy of her father’s office. A patch of pink sky gave the illusion of warmth in the room. Hatch. A smile warmed her face. He was as welcome as violets in March.

ELSA MET HIM at the door in a black dress of ruffled organza and forearm-length black gloves. A cross gleamed gold on her bosom. She accepted his bouquet. Aren’t you sweet? She buried her face in the flowers. I got something for you. She pinned a gardenia in his lapel. Pinned one to her dress.

Hatch led her by the arm toward Uncle John’s borrowed cab. Elsa’s trailing bows swept a clean path.

Are we going in that cab?

Yeah. My Uncle John loaned it to me.

I could have used one of the limos. Never be afraid to ask.

It wasn’t that. I had the money. See, it’s my Uncle John’s cab. My Uncle John. See, well, it’s sorta hard to explain.

Please, Uncle John. Jus this one time. Special.

That’s my livelihood. Why don’t you ask Porsha?

Porsha? Man, she scared to drive her car. Know she ain’t gon let me drive it.

EVERYBODY BLEW GAGE and juiced back and jumped black. The dancers rocked the hall, a big sea-tossed ship. Elsa shook her butt like a rattle. She was as good a dancer as he was a clumsy one.

Beulah. Why they call it the Lindy Hop?

Cause Lindbergh hopped the ocean in that plane of his.

Hours later, white exhaust trails guided them from the dance to a cruise ship. The ship set out in full moonlight from a harbor of colors. Sang softly on the waters. Hatch pointed to the cathedral’s cone towering above the docks. A flock of stars. He and Elsa leaned on the railing and studied the sedentary waters of Tar Lake. A big fish jumped on a string of moonlight, thrashing the very heart of the water. You see that? Lightning and thunder far out on the lake threatened rain. They tossed their gardenias onto the waters. Sailed into the early hours of the morning.

In the back seat of Uncle John’s cab, Hatch and Elsa harbored the night. The rolled-down windows offered a cool breeze. Dark shone clear as day. May had drawn out every leaf on the trees. Hatch nibbled with soft kisses at Elsa’s forehead, her eyes, her cheeks, her lips, and her neck. He felt the spires of her nipples poke through the soft dress. He tasted the moist loin of her mouth. Then he played the slow length of his tongue over her fast body. He put out his hand to fondle her charms. Elsa railed one word, Respect, then fit the pieces of her clothes together. His hands stopped but his mouth could continue. He could Spokesman her. Baby, a circle is a circle, an angle an angle. He could Uncle John her. Bitch, why don’t you jus relax. You know you want it. He could run Jimi’s voodoo down. Well, I march right up to a mountain. Crumble it to dust in the palm of my hand. It’s our own little world here tonight, he said. So let’s forget about yesterday or tomorrow. The time is now.

Your watch is fast, she said. She moved into her own seat. Sat on her own vine, under her own fig tree.

There was a hard silence in the cab.

I wish

I was a catfish

Swimming in the deep blue sea

I’d have all you pretty women fishing after me

Look, I’m not mad at you, she said. She put a light kiss on his lips. The hairs on his body rose treelike. Then the bird left the branch to return to the sky. Swift time flew on silent wings. Months later, Elsa was still sitting under her tree and his bird was still in the sky. She had yet to uncover the nest, reveal the unknown treasures of her inner life.

HE LEFT THE TRAIN, stepped out of a warm steel tub into naked air. He ran the five blocks to Elsa’s house. (He was almost twenty-five minutes late. Inez was to blame for that.) House in sight, he slowed his feet. Pressed his hand into his chest to congeal his scattered breath. Searched for sweat under his arms (found none). He took the stairs one at a time. He rang the bell. Politely waited. He rang the bell. Politely. Waited. He pushed the doorbell again. Waited. Polite. Patient. His blood flushed and faded. He pushed the doorbell. Then he held it, held it, held it — couldn’t let it go, finger and ringer electric one — so long that his finger began to hurt. The world fell silent, intent upon his response. He ran to the nearest phone. The phone handle mocked the rude round rhythm of Elsa’s mouth. He dialed her number. Heard the answering machine click.

HE FUMBLED HIS KEYS before the door. The keys clanked loud as chains. He managed the keys in the lock. Pushed the door open. Night invaded the house. Wrapped it in longing sleep. Elsa. Elsa. Elsa. His fingers found the telephone in the dark. Dialed the number. The answering machine clicked.

Hi, Elsa. It’s Hatch. I was jus there. We musta had a mix-up. Guess I’ll try you again in the morning.

His eye leaked, dripping sight. The bed called, reverse gravity. Pulled him up the stairs. Pulled him beneath the covers. He sank down into the feathers of nested sleep.

LUCIFER DECIDED to return to Union Station for a final drink. He longed for the table near the window where he had sat earlier that day with John. The sun poured yellow surprise into his eyes. The bar was closed, the desired table sealed off from sight and sound behind a steel blind. Strange hours. He would have to find another bar. Bounded on the one side by Union Station and on the other by shops, the large square curved out of sight like a pebble skipped over water. Bus lines cut through the square from every direction. What he could not find here he could find in the narrow side streets that flowed into it.