Kiss of Noir (24 page)

Gradually, the homes thinned and all was wilderness. I ran on the road, keeping my eyes down. After a long time and many near misses with vehicles that honked me into the flooded ditch, I realized I must rest awhile. Just for a bit. The storm was weakening the farther I traveled. I began looking for homes where I might sleep in the car.

I finally found a house that looked empty but had a carport. I sank to the wet concrete floor, huddling into the corner. My teeth chattered so hard I bit my lip and drew blood. I stood and found a greasy tarp and wrapped myself in it as I tucked back into the corner. I shivered myself warm enough to fall into a light, uneasy sleep.

“Sir?”

I opened my eyes. A policeman stood there with a bearded man. The owner of the house, I supposed.

The storm had passed. A diluted sunshine lighted the world as if through wavy water. The sky was white.

“Sir?”

Though unbearably weary, I met their eyes and struggled to stand.

“Sir, do you know your name? Do you know where you are?” the policeman asked.

“You know, I work nights. Up to the city. If the storm hadn’t passed, I would’nt’ve come home. But like I told you, I found this guy when I got here. I don’t want any bums hanging out. There are places for that,” the man said to the cop, then turned to me silent, staring, and repeated loudly, “There are places for the likes of you!”

I nodded and dropped the tarp. I mumbled, “Sorry,” and started to walk.

“Wait a minute, sir,” the cop called. “You need a ride to New Orleans?”

I stared off into the distance, Cleo’s hat still damp on my head, a ruined past, a devastated future, and a painful present. “Am I being charged with anything?”

“No, I’ll just help you get where to need to go if you like. I’m headed that way.”

I shrugged. “Sure.” I held out my hand to the man under whose carport I had slept. “Sorry.” He shook my hand and I led the way to the squad car, settling myself in the back.

As I watched the scenery pass, I willed my mind to think of nothing. I was dull as I watched the miles flow. There was debris everywhere. Suddenly recognizing Ellis’s neighborhood, I shouted, “You’re going the wrong way, pig!”

The cop didn’t say anything but pulled into Ellis’s driveway. Ellis and Sayan came out of the house and hugged me. I remained stiff.

“Thanks, Officer. We were so worried,” Ellis said.

“My pleasure, Mr. Delaney. And I’m sorry about your uncle. We’ll do our best to solve it.”

“I know you will, thank you. And anything I can do, I will,” Ellis said. Sayan dabbed her eyes with a wadded tissue. The policeman returned to his car and left.

Ellis studied me. I felt like wood. My eyes felt like specimens in jars.

“C’mon home, Half.” Sayan threaded her arm through my rigid one and gently tugged me into the house. “Go on, lie down. I’ll fix you a little something.” Sayan pushed me onto their king-sized bed and wiped her own leaking eyes. With her sodden tissue in one hand and a blanket in the other, Sayan covered me up to my neck. She closed the door behind her, leaving me in the silent darkness. I lay, immobile, listening to the soft purr of Ellis’s and Sayan’s voices in the kitchen.

Soon, Sayan returned with a tray. There was a shrimp po’ boy, chips, and an orange soda. She set the tray on the floor. I sat up and Sayan sat next to me.

“You know,” Sayan said, shrugging, “Just in case you are hungry.”

I was unresponsive. I dared to dart my eyes to Sayan, who was massaging her stomach.

“Oh!” Sayan groaned. “This got to be a boy ’cause he’s kicking my butt from the inside out. Thought I’d name him Cleo.” Sayan noticed my eyes on her. “Oh, baby.” Sayan’s hands flew to my face and I jerked away with a gasp. I stared at Sayan, furious and panting. Our eyes locked. Sayan began weeping, shaking her head. I didn’t look away as two large tears rolled down my own cheeks.

“It’s okay,” Sayan said. “It’s okay. Let it out. It’s okay.”

“No.” My voice was steel.

“You’ve got to. It’s not good for you. Come be with us. Be together with your family.”

“No.”

“Well, that’s just fine,” Sayan said, dashing her hands across her face. “Don’t think of anyone but yourself. Do you know what we’ve been through while you were gone?” Sayan’s voice cracked. “Ellis thought he had lost you too. How dare you be so selfish?”

I lay down, turning my back to Sayan, who struggled to stand.

“I can’t,” I moaned.

“Sure.” Sayan closed the door behind her.

I heard the phone ringing. I heard visitors arrive. I heard wailing. I heard Drew shouting. I willed myself into unconsciousness.

When I opened my eyes, it was dark and I knew someone was in the room. “Cleo?” I asked.

“Naw, T, it’s me,” Ellis answered.

I sat up. I could barely see Ellis but I felt his calm sorrow. He wasn’t jagged and fragile like I was. For once, pussy and cigarettes and booze wouldn’t blunt my pain, but I wanted them anyway. I heard the commotion of grieving all through the house.

“Where’s my hat?” I said.

Ellis stood and handed it to me from the dresser. It was still damp and slightly misshapen. He also laid the box of dominoes on the bed. I looked away.

“I know you need to leave and it’s okay. Here.” Ellis dropped some cash. “Don’t get proud, it’s what I owe you for working.”

I nodded, my face burning.

“Well,” Ellis sighed, “See ya.” He hugged me roughly. I closed my eyes. As soon as the door closed, I folded the blanket and force-fed myself the lunch Sayan made. I wasn’t hungry but I knew I needed fuel. I gathered the hat, the dominoes, and the money and slipped unseen out the back door. I walked into town straight to the bus station. I bought a one-way ticket to New Orleans.

Once there, I asked a cabbie to take me where the whores were. He took me to the Quarter. After I paid him, I found a liquor store and a terrible, run-down dive called the Royale and checked in. I placed my hat on the nightstand, the dominoes on the desk, and I lay down. I lit up a cigarette and drank gin straight from the bottle. Both the smoke and the alcohol were sweet going down. The street noise provided enough distraction so I left the television off. After a while, I opened the box of dominoes, removed one and returned to bed. There I lay, swigging booze, smoking, and sniffing the domino.

I kept myself poisoned and insensible to the point of losing track of days. I lived at the seedy hotel with my door open because nothing could hurt me. I had no fear left of anything that might come after me. My open door dared something to try. I didn’t even need the warning of a knock on a closed door. Plus, it helped pizza deliveries find their way and it facilitated a great many tipsy friendships. With my door open, the lively, monkey, chattering drunks wandered in, told their life stories and ended up sobbing and being comforted by my room-temperature Tanqueray. I was popular because I never said a word, I had a free hand with money and a heavy hand when pouring drinks. Soon, every resident ended up in my room each evening. There was warm camaraderie, blissful group singing, and the center of it all, there I was like a black hole. When I rolled cigarettes, my hands shook but no one asked why. Everyone’s hands shook who lived at the Royale. My eyes felt like ice picks. My head began to grow fuzzy hair and I never changed my clothes. I had Cleo’s blood on my shirt, but none of the stew bums asked me about it.

One night, during a party of gleeful drinking, wise advising of what was wrong with the world and exactly how to fix it, and big-headed boasting, I opened my box of dominoes.

“C’mon, let’s play bones!” I shouted, cutting the din to absolute silence. The first words I had spoken. They all stared at me, uncertain.

“You there, get a table. You, what’s your name, find some chairs! Let’s go, let’s move!” I dumped the dominoes in the middle of the bed and was washing them vigorously. Their loud hard clicks were like teeth slamming together. It was the only sound. Still no one stirred. “Doesn’t anyone know how to play?”

They shuffled their feet, stared into their cups and glasses and bottles. “Come on, you trash. Gimme a game.”

There began an angry muttering.

“Get out,” I said softly. They all looked at each other, shrugging and whispering. This was sudden and out of nowhere.
“Get out!”
I bellowed, standing. This group, obviously accustomed to being hassled and shaken and chased, knew how to clear a room. Almost by instinct, they picked up items as they fled; all things I bought: jars of peanuts, sticks of jerky, bags of chips, beer, vodka, wine, pretzels, even my own pet bottle of gin, which was stained greasy with fingerprints. The crowd left me nothing except trash and my dominoes and hat. Even my shoes were taken.

“Worthless motherfuckers!” I screamed to the group of backs running away down the hall. I fell on the bed, breathless and sick. “Ow, goddamn it!” I wrenched up, exposing the pool of dominoes. I sat on the bed hurling one after the other at my reflection in the pitted old mirror that hung above the dresser. I hoped it would shatter, but it didn’t.

Someone was knocking on the door.
Hello? Who’s there?
I didn’t know if I was speaking out loud. The knocking continued, so I knew I hadn’t.

“Ah!” I tried to find my voice. It had died somewhere in my chest. “Heh…eh…mmm…” I ran my tongue over my teeth and sat up, holding my head. “Who’s there?” I slurred, my voice creaky. If it was another drunk wanting money, I would put my foot in his ass. If it was the landlord, I would slap him upside the head.

“Drew.”

“Drew who?” I asked then cackled, a sound that surprised me.

“Drew Ekalibato, you dumb motherfucker. Open this mother-fucking door.”

“Drew Ekalibato of Haiti?”

“I’m a break this door down!”

“Go ahead, I don’t care. There’s piss in every corner, the roof leaks, and the bed squeaks. Can’t hurt.”

“All right. You making a tired old black man bust into your room? That’s ill.”

I stared at the door for a while wondering why he was here and what it would cost to see him.

“Fine. I’ll leave, then. Forget you, nigga.”

I leaped up and flung the door wide. “What do you want?” My voice was clear but my eyes felt wild.

Drew seemed taken aback by my appearance. He cleared his throat. “Lemme in, little brother.” He brushed past me and looked for a chair. “Hm. Ain’t no chair.” He sat on the bed. “Come in here. Close the door. Time for you and me to talk.”

I stared off into space. “I don’t think so.”

Drew jumped up and seized my neck with one hand and slammed the door shut with the other. “Get in here.” He pushed me onto the bed. “What the hell’s happened to you?”

I looked at him, my chin trembling and my eyes watering. Just seeing Drew without Cleo and seeing Drew in this hotel and not in the pawn brought the terrible reality to rest on my heart. Drew handed me a white cotton handkerchief. I lay down, holding the handkerchief over my face with both hands.

“What the hell’s happened to you?” Drew repeated. “You gone pirate?” He fingered one of the wide gold hoops I had in each ear.

I remained silent, my face concealed and tears secretly slipping out of my eyes.

“What the fuck, man?” Drew just noticed the dark marks on my biceps. He pushed my sleeve up and squinted. “You got a goddamn tattoo?” He traced over the scabs. “Who is Max?”

I shook my head.

“Let’s see…you’ve got a domino…that’s cool…number ten, Michael Jordan? That’s cool…who’s Max?” he asked again.

I kept shaking my head. “I’m going to remove it,” I said, my voice muffled.

“How did you do this?”

“Payne came by and took me out.”

Drew laughed, pinching his nose. The sound was profane to me, but under my grief, I longed for it because his laugh was good: clean and warm. “Man, she fucked you up but good. She must’ve had some excellent shit, huh?”

I lowered the handkerchief and glared at him.

Drew held up his hands. “I ain’t gonna play no more. I came here to talk to you.”

I waited.

“You need to go home to your family.”

I covered my face again. “Forget it. Leave me alone.”

“Not yet I won’t.”

“Why do you care anyway? Just get out!”

“Why do I care?
Why do I care?
” Drew stood over me, pointing his finger. “Why do I care? ’Cause I love Ellis! I been knowing him since he was born. I love Sayan and I love her baby that is coming soon. And they are in pain. They are in pain over their loss and they are in pain over your sorry ass.” Drew sat down. “And I loved Cleo. He was a fine man.”

“Don’t.” My word was a barb.

“I’ll say what I came to say. I loved Cleo and he’s gone to glory and we’re stuck here with each other. And he mad at you.”

“DON’T!”

“Shut the fuck up. You’ll hear this if I have to sit on you to do it and then I’ll be free cause I’ll know I did what I could. T-Bone, you know you’re wrong. You know Cleo wants you to be there with Ellis and Sayan to help them through their trouble. And that helps you too even if you’re too big a chicken to recognize. Wasn’t Ellis there for you?”