Redemption

On Saturday morning, Lady unpacks her Lady Smith .38 from her purse and decides not to kill the man who took her virginity all those years ago, not tonight anyway. Instead, she texts him she has to break the date they had planned (their fourth) and she’d be in touch next week. Lady had insinuated herself into his life and now the former cherry popper is halfway in love with her. He texts back an emoticon crying. To keep buttering him up, she texts back the one with the hands praying.

Tough shit. Let him suffer. After that, she texts Blue from yoga, who she’s hot for and invites him to dinner.

“Wanna go skiing or to Nate’s class?” she asks the next morning. “I haven’t seen you there lately, are you still practicing?”

Blue loves the “practicing.” It makes him feel part of something bigger than himself. As for Nate, whom he has been hired to kill, he still can’t face it. Even with Endless showing up, pointing at his watch, appearing in the doorway of the café where he gets his morning cappuccino. Endless whom he thinks of as the devil or the Angel of Death. Why does Endless want Nate dead? Once upon a time, Blue would not have cared for reasons why. Killing was necessary from time to time. But killing Nate actually feels like a sin.

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Photo: Joel Goodman

Blue’s exposure to sin began in reform school decades ago and continued on to prison with the chaplains, the Rabbis and the various members of the cloth who bring with them canned goodness as fake as the canned meat they serve inside.

Since his last stint, in the first decade of the new century, yoga had entered the prison system–at least it had in California—where Blue had spent some time. There, as he had told Nate, when they had coffee together and were forming a friendship before Endless showed up and cut that off… “I practiced inside,” he had told his yoga teacher.

“Good place to practice yoga!” Nate had replied without a trace of sarcasm.

And in fact Nate was right. The guys who did yoga got out sooner than the ones who pumped or jumped or lay around doing nothing. Practicing yoga inside had saved him in more ways than one.

Yoga had brought Lady into his life. And she, thank God, was as far away from ways to kill someone as he could imagine. Lady, Blue loved the name, and that she wasn’t a lady in the sack, but had a lot of class nonetheless. Lady: her straight brown hair, thin and silky, the lines around her mouth and green eyes, the short clean nails cut like a child’s.

“Cat got your tongue, young man?”

Lady lets her smooth leg rub against his.

“Not going to Nate these days, but don’t know how to ski, babe, besides my car’s in the shop.”

Car’s in the shop is a phrase he has not used since two lifetimes ago when he actually owned a car. No use going into that now.

“I’ll drive, we’ll go to Big Bear. I have ski clothes but we’ll rent you everything you need. It’s on me, my treat!”

“Well, if that’s the case,” he smiles and rolling over on her. “Let me treat you first, my Lady.”

….

Sure it was sort of corny with the tourist stops, the restaurants, the souvenirs, the cheesy motels that but for snow looked like any other no count tourist traps he’d seen across the country. But the mountains in snow, so pure, so white, are a miracle. Blue’s uplifted by the sun shining on the trees, the trees exuding light, the look on the faces of the kids snowboarding down the mountain. This, he decides is some kind of heaven.

Endless’ pinched face, his small hole of a mouth, the stubby arms with its expensive watch on the left hand, keep appearing in his mind’s eye. Blue is halfway expecting his nemesis to show up here in Big Bear, just as he’d appeared at the café with Nate, at the beach when he was sitting on a bench with Lady.

Lady’s outfit is black and red, his own, blue because she laughingly wanted him to wear the color of his eyes and his name.

Sparks were flying between them all during the drive from Santa Monica up the mountain trails, from eight lanes to two lanes, Blue feels liberated to be out of LA, though his two small rooms above the antique shop are the only home he has known in more than fifteen years. If keeping that space—yes that holy space, fuck it—depends on him killing Nate, then he’d pay the price, though he knows, because he knows, his own days are numbered if he does what Endless wants. Fucking Endless.

Lady helps Blue with the skis. And insists he wear a helmet like she has on. She playfully pulls his ponytail that hangs down the back of it.

“We look like nerds, but so what?” she tells him. “Everybody wears helmets now.”

Blue is looking down now after his first lesson. “I get it!” he tells Lady. But poised now at the top of the little slope, fear overtakes him. His stomach drops, his balance begins to teeter. He grabs Lady’s gloved hand.

“I’m chicken shit!” he confesses. “You go. I’ll watch you!”

She soars gracefully down the bunny slope weaving this way and that. A snow angel in black and red.

She reaches the bottom of the little hill. She glides back up making her slow way smiling now by his side, a black shadow against the snow.

“It’s easy! If you fall, you fall!”

She nudges him forward, “Lean into it…”

Suddenly it’s really happening. He glides past a tree, a snowboard whizzes by, he shouts out in joy. Joy and prayer. Never has he uttered a prayer. Not even in his darkest days, not in a stinking cell, or being whipped by one of his dads, or in solitary, or on his many icy nights on the street when the cold came in to formally take him away.

Then without warning he falls. Falls right on his face, his skis splayed. In a flash Lady is by his side, smiling, bringing with her the lightest sprinkling of snow glittering against the blue sky. She offers him her hand; he takes it and pulls her down in the snow on top of him.

As they laugh and kiss, he’s surging with happiness. A phrase from an old rock song his twin brother used to play over and over sings in his head, “In the presence of the Lord…

I won’t kill Nate, he thinks. I won’t kill anyone ever again.

“Blue,” Lady says and rolls off. “Blue your phone is ringing.” Blue puts his hand in his pocket around the sleek instrument. He knows who is calling. He doesn’t need to look at his phone…

Fucking Endless.
The characters in this story also appear in Hot Water, A New Man, The First, The Safe Zone, Aftermath, Blinded by the Light, New Year, A Meeting of Minds, and Stumbling Block.

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Stumbling Block

Endless knows something is up the instant he steps in the door of Tatiana’s apartment on a grey day in February.  Here on one of the highest floors in Westwood, with the huge plate glass windows facing west above the Veteran’s Administration complex, the sky is greyish and the air is thick. The green of the VA is indistinct; other lower buildings are just smudges; a mixture of smog and fog. When his cell phone tells him the air quality is moderate, he knows it means the air is shit. His eyes are red and he can’t breathe so well.

Was it his imagination or did the doorman downstairs give him a funny look a few minutes ago, as if he wasn’t welcome? Usually he waves him through but today he ostentatiously calls before Endless is allowed to ride up. When he tries the door it’s locked, usually it’s unlocked. He doesn’t like that feeling. Tatiana unsmilingly greets him, dressed very plainly in jeans and a white shirt.  No lipstick, no rouge, and she’s sporting her unadorned dark glasses with the black plastic frames, which means she’s in a serious mood. With her black hair, her very white skin and pale lips, she looks like a vampire, another turn on. Everything about Tatiana turns him on. Obviously her assistant hasn’t come today to do her makeup. Lancelot, the poodle, with his bright black hair and jeweled collar looks more noticeably groomed than she is.

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Photo: Joel Goodman

“Sit, Greg,” she tells him, as if he’s the dog. The poodle is sprawled luxuriously on the couch beside her. Endless reaches for Tatiana’s long pretty hand. She gently withdraws it, and moves away. She takes a little time before she says,

“I like you, I even trust you, and I was seriously considering marrying you, but I can’t.”

Endless isn’t surprised.

“Is it because of him—that yoga teacher?”

“Yes and no.”

“I knew you were in love with him.  Even when you said yes to me, you were still thinking about him.”

Tatiana sits there, a blind statue. Endless sticks out his tongue at her and shoots her the bird with both hands, a minor release.

“Tatiana you’re one of the smartest women I’ve ever met, and yet you’re in love with a guy you pay to give you sex lessons?”

“I told you in the beginning about him. It was very helpful. And of course Nate refuses to take money from me now.”

Money won’t do that New Age twat any good where he’s going, Endless tells himself.  Maybe Blue already did the job.  If everything goes smoothly maybe he’ll also have Blue bump off Tatiana’s brother—then she’d have nobody. But himself, of course.

Although he will never mention Nate again once he’s dead, he can’t help saying now, “He took your money once. You’ll always have that between you.”

He watches Tatiana’s mouth grow hard. “In any event,” she continues, her slightly accented English growing more ESL by the moment, “Explain, please, why it is your business whom I pay? If we were to marry, do you think you could inflict this sort of monetary inquisition on me?”

“Tatiana, darling, I would never do that!  You’re rich. I’m rich. That’s one of the great things about us. We don’t need each other’s money.”

A lie of course. Other than his share of the rents he collects for his father’s properties, he has nothing other than the apartment where he lives, and his father owns that too.

He sees Tatiana is thinking about this. Her head very still, her hand reaching for the dark glasses, and then the moment he waits for, when she draws them off and sets them down on the table in front of her, not feeling around, as though she could see exactly where she was putting them.

She turns to confront him with her indescribable face, the two dark gashes where the eyes had been, the prominent bones below them, the perfect eyebrows shaped and plucked.  It is a face that could illicit horror and anxiety, but in his own case, lust.

He did not know it had a name until just a few years ago when he looked it up on the Internet. The gashes excite him. He loves her blank dead places; the helplessness that comes with it, the isolation she feels, the absolute darkness she lives in. For a while before he met her, he had a long affair with a woman in a wheelchair.  She had turned him on too. But nothing close to what he feels for Tatiana. Her being beautiful and rich doesn’t hurt, but the eyes, as they say, have it. He had encouraged her since the beginning to feel free not to be covered up when he’s around. It was one of their early bonds.

“So you called me over to tell me it’s off? You don’t even want to be friends?”

“Why are you getting up, Greg? I’d like to talk to you about this so you understand.”

He heads toward the window to escape the keenness of her other senses, overcome with desire for her, he has to take care of it right now.

“What are you doing, I can hear you breathing!”

He pants loudly as he comes, and then quietly zips his fly, covering the noise by saying.

“It’s so polluted out, the damn air. I drove here with the top down. I forgot my asthma medication.”

“Poor Greg, come here, sit down. We can come to some sort of understanding.”

“Ok, I’m just going to get a kombucha from the kitchen.”

He returns and very softly moves the dark glasses from their accustomed spot, covering the sound by loudly putting his glass down. A line from a long ago Sunday school class enters his head. Thou shalt not curse the deaf nor put a stumbling block before the blind.

She’s fumbling now for her glasses, she likes to put them on and take them off.  Her hands are sweeping the table; she’s beginning to panic.

“Tatiana, let me help you!”

“No! I want to help myself!”

Her hand knocks the glass over and she cries out.

“Don’t worry,” he says, “I’ll clean this up.”

She sinks back into the sofa and reaches for her poodle who begins to growl softly.

Tatiana sighs. “We can be friends. You can come here. We can go to the ocean and sit on the bench.  We can drive with the top down and the wind in our faces. But I won’t marry you. And we’re not having sex anymore.”

That’s what you think…

 

The characters in Stumbling Block, appear and reappear in Blinded by the Light; New Year; A New Man, and A Meeting of Minds.

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