Little Chicago (13 page)

Cheedle is sitting at the kitchen table with a girl. She is wearing a blue plastic raincoat and there is a red umbrella in her lap.

They're eating scrambled eggs with ketchup. It reminds me of this puke puddle that was outside Mr. Prisby's room. No one would claim it.

Mr. Prisby said, Oh, it must be a new kind of mold then, and everyone laughed.

I have to punish myself for looking at the eggs or I'll get sick.

I dig my nail into my thumb every time I feel myself wanting to look.

I focus on the girl instead.

Her hair is curly and brown. It looks more like a wig than hair.

Her eyes are round like buttons. I think they're sort of blue, but that might just be the raincoat playing a trick.

Hey, I say to Cheedle.

He says, Hey.

I notice that he is wearing a collared shirt with a tie. He looks like he works at a funeral home.

He says, This is Anna Beth Coles. She's in my Chaos and Creativity class. I spoke to you about her the other day.

Oh, I say. About what?

Kissing lessons, she says.

Her voice is too deep for her body. There's something fake going on, I am convinced of this.

My eyes find the scrambled eggs and ketchup and I nearly fall to my knees from the grossness but I catch the table with my hands.

What happened to your shirt? Cheedle asks.

Um. I fell on a tomato, I say.

He says, Smells like paint to me.

It was a painted tomato, I say.

Interesting, he says. What about your shoes?

What about them? I say.

Where are they?

I gave them to a blind man, I say.

Well, he says.

That's all he says: Well.

How old are you? I ask Anna Beth Coles.

I'll be eleven next week, she says.

In a flash I see her naked. Her breasts are flat like mine, with pen dots for nipples.

Cheedle says, She's prepared to provide you with remuneration.

Anna Beth Coles puts a ten-dollar bill on the table and says, I feel like I'm entering a phase of my sexual development where I need to explore vast possibilities.

I look at the two of them sitting there. I imagine them singing a duet.

I say, I'm not giving lessons today.

Anna Beth Coles says, Why not?

I say, Just cause.

I feel my face filling with heat.

She says, But I walked all the way over here in the bad weather.

Okay, I say. Give me the money first.

She hands me the ten-dollar bill.

Cheedle says, I would like to observe, if that's okay, and continues eating his eggs.

Anna Beth Coles wipes her face with a napkin and moistens her lips.

Open your mouth, I say.

Anna Beth Coles opens her mouth. Her gums are crowded with teeth.

I say, Not that wide.

The she adjusts her lips and I place my mouth on hers. Her spit tastes like Hershey's chocolate syrup and Twizzlers. We stay that way for several seconds and then I take my mouth off.

She wipes her lips with the napkin.

Cheedle continues eating his eggs.

There, I say. Lesson completed.

Anna Beth Coles looks up at me and says, Glog!

I've never heard anyone say Glog before.

I'll bet it's a cross between God and log.

I'm not sure why Anna Beth Coles would want to mix these two words.

She is staring at me like she might cry.

What? I say.

She says, That's all I get for ten dollars?

I say, One step at a time.

Well, that sucked! she says, and pushes away from the table and walks out.

Cheedle acts like nothing has happened. He just eats his last forkful of scrambled eggs and ketchup.

Sometimes I wonder if he has emotions.

It's the way he just sits there. He's like a rock with a brain.

The rain is starting to get in the house, so I go over and close the front door.

I can see Anna Beth Coles at the end of the block. Her blue raincoat looks bluer far away. I wonder if her eyes do that too.

Her red umbrella is so big I imagine the sky lifting her up and sucking her through the clouds.

When Ma comes home she tries to pretend that she hasn't dyed her hair.

It's supposed to be blond but it looks rusty and dumb.

In the kitchen she puts some things away and then she comes out to the living room and sits next to me on the couch.

I can smell the chemicals in her hair.

It's like the couch burning.

I know this smell cause Shay burned some holes in the cushions with a cigarette once. She was mad cause Ma grounded her for stealing twenty dollars out of her purse.

The whole living room stunk for days.

The burn marks are still there. It looks like the couch got bit by a dog.

Cheedle is typing and watching
Blackbelt Theater.

What do you think, Cheedle? Ma finally asks.

She is touching her hair like it's changing temperature. Somehow her technician's uniform looks rusty too.

Cheedle says, It looks lovely.

Ma says, What about you, Blacky? What do you think?

I say, No comment.

I think about Cheedle's word: Lovely. Like her hair is a field or a bird.

Ma says, No comment, Blacky?

I say it again. I say, No comment.

Come on, she says. I spent thirty-five dollars on it. Be honest.

I say, What's with your eyebrows?

They look thin and drawn on.

She says, I had them done to match my hair.

You look like a prostitute, I say.

She slaps me so hard I fall off the couch.

The feeling goes out of my face for a second.

When I look up Ma is standing over me like a tree.

There's no need to be cruel, Gerald, she says.

And then she walks down the hall and goes into her room.

She hasn't called me Gerald in so long the word sounds like Spanish coming out.

She slams the door and turns her radio on to a rap station.

What's weird is that Ma never listens to rap.

I look at Cheedle.

He's flicking something off his typewriter keys.

He says, Prostitution is not a profession most mothers find employment with.

I say, What?

But he doesn't bother to explain, so I go in the bathroom and sit on the toilet. I don't have to go. I just sit there.

Later I come out of the bathroom and Flahive is sitting on the couch. His eyes look huge and black.

Hey, I say.

He says, Hey.

Is Shay here? I ask.

Not yet, he says. I was sposed to meet her.

Oh, I say. How'd you get in?

Door was open.

Flahive is playing with this thing called a Zippo lighter. He can snap his fingers and make a flame. Then he flips his wrist and the top slams shut. It's highly impressive. He does this four times and twirls the Zippo between his fingers.

The thing about Flahive is you don't know if Flahive is his first or last name. I asked Shay once but she just said, His name's Flahive—it's like Cher.

He keeps looking over his shoulder like someone's after him. There are little pink welts on his cheeks. His hair is long and greasy and his nose has a bump in it. For some reason I can't picture him as a baby. He just came out this way.

So what's up? he asks.

Nothin.

How's tricks?

Pretty good, I say.

Whenever Flahive sees me he asks me this and I have no idea what it means.

He says, Stayin outta trouble?

Pretty much.

Then he says, Double trouble, keep him off the bubble, and looks over his shoulder again and sort of sniffs. I can see that his nose is raw and red. Shay's got the same problem and I assume this has something to do with drugs.

We're quiet for a minute and then when I can't take it anymore I say, Can I buy a gun off you?

He says, A
what
?

A gun, I say.

Who told you I sell guns?

No one.

Did Shay tell you that?

No, I say. I just know.

He says, You're a little young for a sidearm, don't you think?

No.

What's your name again? he asks.

Blacky.

You're a little young to be wielding a firearm, don't you think, Blacky?

It's for protection, I say. Burglars and stuff.

I hear that, he says and looks at his watch. It's black with red numbers.

He says, What kinda piece are you lookin for?

I don't know, I say. Somethin small.

How much money you got?

Ten bucks.

He says, It's gonna cost you more than that.

Okay, I say. How much?

A helluva lot more than ten bucks.

Then he stares at me for a second. It's like he's seeing something that he's never seen before.

Come here, he says.

I walk over to him at the couch. He takes my hand and presses it to his chest. I can feel something hard under his army jacket.

Feel that? he says.

I say, Uh-huh.

He keeps my hand there and smiles. One of his teeth is blue.

That's my Glock, he says. It's German. One of the finest makes.

Wow, I say.

Then he lets go of my hand and I just stand there.

You wanna gun, I'll get you a gun, he says. How bout a twenty-two. Think you could handle a twenty-two?

Yes, I say.

Flahive looks over his shoulder and says, Meet me tomorrow behind the 7-Eleven at Five Corners. Cool?

Cool, I say. What time?

He says, Four o'clock. But don't tell your sister I'm doin this.

I won't.

If you do I'll break your pussy finger, he warns.

Okay.

And it'll hurt a lot.

I nod.

We are quiet for a minute and then I say, What's that? and I point to a patch on his army jacket.

Special Forces, he says. Death unto all who touch it.

I almost touch it but I don't. My hand just wants to reach out on its own.

Then Shay comes out of her room. It's obvious that she came in through the window again cause her arm is scraped and bleeding. It's funny how she doesn't even use the front door anymore.

Hey, she says, squeezing her arm with tissue. Her hair is wet and her face looks swollen.

Flahive says, Hey.

Hey, I say. What happened to your arm?

I injured it skydiving. Fuckin parachutes, man. Then she sniffs a few times and says, What's up? to Flahive.

Nothin much, he says. Just talkin to Barry.

Blacky, I say.

Just talkin to Blacky, he says.

Suddenly you can hear Cheedle typing in the basement. He must be using a flashlight cause Ma never changed the bulb.

Shay shakes and Flahive looks over his shoulder.

That's when I decide to go back into the bathroom.

Later Ma leaves.

Cheedle and I are in the living room watching this kung fu video called
The Five Deadly Venoms.

Ma is dressed fancy and her face is so made up it looks huge.

She's wearing high heels, too, and when she walks it looks like she has an athletic injury.

I'm going out, she says.

Okay, Cheedle says. Enjoy your evening.

I say nothing and just sit there.

On the video this guy is doing toad style on several hundred policemen. They're all using machetes but it's impossible to cut him cause his skin is like steel. His moves look more like dancing than fighting.

Ma says, You make sure you boys eat something. There's bologna and cheese in the fridge.

When Ma leaves she doesn't look at me.

Her perfume smells like flowers and urine.

12

That night the phone rings. We can't call out cause Ma forgot to pay Illinois Bell, so when it rings it's like something huge is about to happen.

Al Johnson helped us pay our bills for a while but now that's impossible.

Even though we can't dial out we can still receive calls, but we don't get too many. Once in a while Ma's brother Uncle Jack will call but that stopped after Shay started using drugs again. Ma's dead sister Aunt Diana used to call, too, but she's dead now.

Once Shay screamed at Ma cause the phone got completely disconnected. We didn't even have a dial tone.

Fucking stupid bitch! Shay yelled.

Ma said, I'm sorry, Shay, I'm sorry.

Then Shay took the keys and hijacked the car. She drove all the way to Griffith, Indiana, before she ran out of gas and got caught by the Highway Patrol of America.

When they brought her back that night she went and hid in her room and wouldn't come out for several hours. Now Shay's not allowed to drive a car till she's twenty-one.

Cheedle answers the phone.

Hello? he says. Brown residence … One moment, please.

He looks at me and says, It's for you.

I take the phone from Cheedle and walk to the corner of the kitchen where Ma used to hang this picture of Jesus. Jesus was making a miracle gesture and there was a golden halo around his head. Ma took it down after Shay blackened out Jesus' eyes with a Sharpie permanent marker.

Hello? I say into the phone.

Wear it tomorrow, a girl's voice says.

What? I say.

Wear the sweatshirt, she says. And don't wash the paint off.

Who is this?

Mary Jane.

Oh, I say. Hey.

She says, Hey.

On the phone her voice sounds different. Like she's been holding her breath underwater.

In the background you can hear a TV. It sounds like a hundred thousand people are laughing.

She says, Tomorrow I'm wearing my white
QUACK OFF, MOTHERQUACKER!
long-sleeved T-shirt and I'm leaving the paint on. Wear the sweatshirt.

Okay, I say. I'll wear it.

Then we are breathing for a moment.

I can still smell the deer on my hand.

In the background there's some more laughter as well as a bone-chilling clap of TV thunder.

How'd you get my phone number? I ask.

She says, I just got it.