by Marie Sexton
“I’d like that.”
“Thought maybe you could let me take your little TV instead?”
“Anything you want, Ang.” And whatever doubts I may have formulated over the last hour, they were all swept away by the smile he gave me. He walked up to me and kissed me once, quickly.
“Thanks, Zach.”
He turned and picked up an empty box and headed for what I assumed was the bedroom. “I’ll be back here,” he said. He turned and looked at me. “You can’t come in.”
“I won’t.”
“I mean it.”
“Okay,” I said, holding my hands up in defeat. “I promise.”
He watched me again for a minute but then sighed. “Not tryin’ to be jerk, Zach. I just—”
“Angelo,” I said, interrupting him, “it’s fine. Really.” I smiled at him and was relieved when he immediately smiled back. “Go pack. I’ll be here.”
“Okay.”
It took me less than twenty minutes to pack up his kitchen. I eyed the mail on the table, trying to decide if I could sort through it for him or not. It was mostly junk—fliers, pizza coupons, credit card offers. One porn magazine. I glanced through that for a few minutes, before realizing I better stop. It was having the intended effect, and I had a feeling Angelo was pretty serious about the “no fooling around” thing. I didn’t want to push it. I put the magazine down and decided to start on the entertainment center. I was unhooking the stereo equipment when there was a knock at the door.
“Zach?” Angelo yelled from the back.
“Yeah, I got it.”
I opened the door and found a woman looking back at me. She was tiny, maybe five three. She had dark skin and thick black hair. It was hard to judge her age. She could have been as young as thirty- five, as old as fifty. Her eyes were deep brown, and she looked scared to death.
“I’m looking for Angelo Green,” she said shakily.
And I knew immediately that this was not going to be good. I was actually considering telling her that he wasn’t home, but I wasn’t fast enough.
“Who is it?” Angelo called as he came out of the bedroom.
And then his eyes landed on her.
He froze. For just a second, he was completely still. The room practically crackled with tension, like the calm before a storm, when you see the lightning and know the thunder isn’t far behind.
And then without saying a word, he walked over and slammed the door in her face.
“Angelo,” I said, “was that—”
“Angelo,” she called through the door, cutting off my question.
“Please let me in.”
He turned and leaned against it, like he was afraid she might try to break it down. “Fuck you!” he yelled back.
“I know it’s been a long time, but—”
“A long time?” he snapped. “Is that what you call it? A long time? You leave me with the goddamn neighbor and never come back, and twenty years later all you got to say to me is, ‘It’s been a long fucking time’?”
It was quiet for several seconds, and I almost wondered if she had left. But then she said, quieter, “Angelo, please. Let me in. I just want to see you.”
He put his head in his hands, but he didn’t move.
Nothing happened for what seemed like an eternity, but it must have only been a few moments. I waited for some kind of clue as to what he needed. I had no idea what to do. Finally I said, “Angelo?”
He looked up at me, and there was so much pain and anger and confusion in his eyes, it was heartbreaking to see. I closed the distance between us, and wrapped my arms around him. I thought he might resist me, but he didn’t. He leaned into me, like he couldn’t keep standing on his own. He was shaking, and I held him tighter.
“Zach,” he whispered, “tell me what to do.”
“Angelo?” she called uncertainly from the other side of the door.
“Just a minute,” I yelled toward the door. And then to him, softly, “Take your time. She can wait.”
“Why, Zach?” he whispered. “Why she gotta come back now?”
I didn’t have an answer. I was pretty sure he didn’t expect one.
I could feel him putting himself back together. His breathing slowly evened out. He quit shaking. He became stiffer in my arms.
“What should I do?” he asked again, firmer this time.
“It’s your call, Ang. But I think you should hear what she has to say.”
He nodded against my chest, took a deep breath, and pushed me gently away.
“Do you want me to stay?” I asked.
He looked at me, and I could tell he really was considering asking me to leave, but then he said firmly, “Yes.”
“Okay.”
He pushed his hair out of his face, stood up straighter. He also went around to the other side of the couch so that it would be between them when she came in. Then he looked at me and said,
“Guess I’m ready as I’ll ever be.”
I opened the door, and she looked up at me in confusion. There were tears on her cheeks.
“Come in,” I said and moved aside for her.
She stepped through the door and stopped. She stood there, nervously looking around, looking everywhere but at him, while I closed the door. It became evident right away that neither of them knew what to say, so I stepped up to her and held out my hand.
“I take it you’re Angelo’s mother?”
“Yes,” she said, shaking my hand. Her hand was tiny and her grip weak. “Nita.”
“Nita, I’m Zach. I’m a friend of Angelo’s.”
“More than my friend, he’s my—” Angelo stopped short, and when I looked at him, he looked alarmed, like he hadn’t actually meant to speak. He obviously wasn’t sure now how to finish. I stood there wondering if he was going to tell her, but then he said softly,
“He’s my boss.”
“Well,” she said awkwardly, “nice to meet you, Zach.”
“Nice to meet you too.”
I looked back over at Angelo. He was looking at me with a mute apology in his eyes, and I smiled encouragingly at him. That obviously made him feel better, and I saw him relax a little.
“Why don’t we sit down?” I suggested. Of course in the living room, there was only the couch. Angelo and Nita both eyed it with obvious apprehension. “In here,” I said, pointing to the dining room table, and they both relaxed and nodded.
I went in ahead of them. I pushed the pile of mail to one side. I hid the magazine at the bottom of the pile. If he didn’t want to tell her I was more than a friend, it was a safe bet he didn’t want her seeing exactly what was on that magazine either.
“Thanks, Zach,” he said quietly, and when I turned to him, I was relieved to see him grinning at me. It was that same lopsided grin he always had, and I was glad to see that he was getting his bearings so quickly.
We sat down, Angelo and I on one side of the small table and Nita on the other.
“So,” she said, “you still live in Denver?”
“Obviously,” he said dryly.
She licked her lips, cleared her throat, and tried again.
“Do you work around here?”
“Work for Zach.”
She waited, but he didn’t say anything else, and she slumped a little when she realized that was all he was going to give her.
“You look good,” she said. “You look like your father.”
“Wouldn’t know.”
She nodded absently. She looked around for a few moments, like a topic of conversation might present itself, but none did. She finally turned back to Angelo. “Will you tell me,” she asked cautiously, “what happened after…?” She let her question trail away.
“After you ditched me with the neighbor?” he asked angrily. I put my hand on his knee, under the table, but he pushed it away.
“What do you think happened? Social services came and got me.
Went through thirteen foster homes in ten years.” She closed her eyes,
sucked in her breath, but he didn’t stop. “First few kept me a whole year or two before they sent me on. But nobody wants teenagers. The last few, I got pushed out before I could unpack my bag.” He leaned back, crossed his arms across his chest, and glared at her. “Real fuckin’ party. Thanks for askin’.”
She sat there for a minute, absorbing that. Then she took a deep breath and looked up at him apprehensively. “Is there anything you want to ask me?” she asked.
“Like why the fuck you left? Where you been the last twenty fuckin’ years? Why you never bothered to find me before now?” He stopped, and she sat there looking down at her hands in her laps.
Then he laughed a harsh, angry laugh. “No, man. I got nothin’ I need to know from you.”
She just nodded, and I saw tears forming in her eyes. Angelo obviously wasn’t moved by her distress. He sat glaring at her, not saying a word.
“Nita,” I said, leaning forward, “do you have any other children? Does Angelo have any brothers or sisters?”
She shook her head. “I had a daughter, but….” Her words died away.
“You leave her with a neighbor too?” Angelo asked, and she winced.
“No,” she said quietly. “She died. Crib death.” She took a deep, shaking breath. “It was a long time ago.”
Angelo was still just glaring at her, and it was left for me to say, “I’m sorry to hear that.”
She looked over at Angelo, and she looked so desperate, I almost felt bad for her. “Angelo?” she asked. She put a hand toward him across the table. It might have been a snake, the way he looked at it. He pushed back away from her so fast that his chair scraped harshly against the floor, and she quickly put her hand back in her lap. “Angelo, I’m sorry. I was so—”
“Keep your fuckin’ apology,” he said, interrupting her, “and your excuses too. I don’t want ’em.”
“Okay,” she said, nodding. “I deserve that.” She fidgeted some more. “Angelo, I know I have no right to ask this of you….” He made a snorting sound, but she sped up, talking fast so she could get it all out before he said anything else. “I would really like a chance to get to know you.”
“What the fuck ever.”
She blinked at him for a moment, confused, obviously unsure whether his answer meant yes or no. When he didn’t elaborate, she tried again. “Your dad never found you?”
“No.”
She sighed. “He never found me either. I looked for him, but….” She shrugged. “Both of my parents are gone now, so if you have any grandparents left, they would be on his side.” Angelo just stared at her, his face blank.
She apparently decided to give up on him for the moment and turned to me. “Angelo works for you?”
“Yes.” I smiled at him. “He’s my best employee.”
It had the effect I was hoping for. I actually saw a little crack in his stony expression—just a tiny ghost of a smile in his eyes as he glanced at me.
“That’s good,” she said. She glanced around the apartment and saw the box on the kitchen counter. “Are you moving in or moving out?”
Angelo waited, looking at me like he thought I might answer for him. I just kept smiling at him, and he finally sighed and said to her, “Moving out.”
“Where to?”
“Coda. In the mountains.”
She smiled nervously. “That sounds wonderful.”
“We’re leavin’ in a few days.”
I wasn’t sure he realized what he had said, but I saw her eyes go a little wide, and I knew what was coming. “You’re married?” she asked hopefully.
“Close as I’ll ever be.”
“That’s wonderful!” she said, smiling. “Do you have kids?”
“Fuck no.”
Between his harsh answer and the venom in his voice, her smile disappeared in an instant. “I see,” she said quietly. She seemed to ponder it for a minute as she looked down at her hands in her lap.
Then she apparently decided to let it go. She looked back up at him with a nervous smile. “I’d like to meet her.”
A heartbeat of silence, and then he said stonily, “You already did.”
She looked confused, and I could tell he was enjoying it. “I haven’t met anybody.”
“Sure you have,” he said matter-of-factly. “It’s Zach.”
“Oh.” She looked over at me, uncertain, and said, “Well, I realize he’s your friend. But that’s not what I meant.”
“I know what you meant,” he said.
“But”—her cheeks were turning red—“I meant, a woman. A girlfriend or a wife.”
“I know what you meant! ” he said, louder this time.
“But—” she began but stopped short, and her eyes got wider as it started to sink in.
He leaned closer to me, looked right at her, and said definitively, “It’s Zach! ”
She looked positively alarmed now. Her eyes were huge, her face was flushed, and her hands were fluttering nervously all around like some kind of strange leashed butterflies. “Well, no. I mean, that can’t be….”
Suddenly Angelo stood up. He grabbed the hair on the back of my head, pulled it back and kissed me, hard. It wasn’t a long kiss, but certainly longer than she probably wanted to see. He caught me completely off guard.
And then just as quickly, he let go of me, slamming his hand down on the table as he leaned aggressively toward her.
“Is it crystal fuckin’ clear now, or do you need to watch him fuck me too?”
Her jaw dropped, and I stood up and laid my hand gently on his shoulder. “Ang—”
“No, Zach! She wants to know me? She better fuckin’ deal with it.”
“But Angelo,” she said quietly, “it’s a sin. It’s not natural.”
Tears ran down her cheeks, and she wiped them away quickly. “It’s wrong. God said—”
“Fuck you, and fuck your God too,” he snapped. “Neither of you ever done shit for me.”
She sat there for a minute, staring at the table. Then she took a shaking breath and said, “I think I should go.”
Angelo straightened up then and looked down his nose at her.
“Go ahead,” he said icily. “Leave. Again. Only fuckin’ thing you’re good at, isn’t it?”
She closed her eyes, caught her breath like she had been slapped. He leaned back against the wall and glared at her. She took a minute to get herself together. Then she reached into her purse and pulled out a pen. She grabbed an envelope off of the table. She carefully wrote out a phone number, an Albuquerque address, and then stood up, holding it out to Angelo.
“Here,” she said quietly. “Just in case you ever want it.”
“I won’t,” he said.
“Please, Angelo,” she said, and she was really starting to cry now. “Take it. Just in case.”
He just stood there, with his arms crossed and fury in his eyes.
He didn’t reach for it. She pushed it toward him again, but he didn’t move. She made a little sobbing sound, holding the paper out for him. Still, he didn’t budge.
Finally I stepped up and held my hand out. She looked at me warily, obviously distrustful, but she handed me the envelope.
I followed her to the door. She stepped out of the apartment, onto the landing, stopped, and turned back to me.
“I know what you must think,” she said quietly, “but I do love him.”
“So do I,” I told her and closed the door.
When I walked back in, he was sitting at the table with his head in his hands.
“Are you okay?” I asked quietly.
He looked up at me, and his eyes were blazing with anger.
“It’s not wrong, Zach!” he said fiercely. “It’s not! What you and me have, it’s not wrong!”
I took his hand, held it between my own. “I know, Angelo.
There’s nothing ‘wrong’ about us.”
He nodded, looking down at his hand held in mine. He took a deep breath, and then he pulled away.
“Go home, Zach,” he said. He wasn’t angry anymore. Now he just sounded defeated.
I didn’t want to leave him. It felt wrong to walk away now.
“Are you sure, Ang? I could—”
“I’m sure,” he said, interrupting me. He looked up at me with sad, tired eyes. “I need to be alone now.”
I went back to my empty apartment and started packing. I ordered pizza. I even got jalapenos on half. I hoped he would come by at dinnertime, but he didn’t. Finally I climbed into bed and fell asleep. I left the front door unlocked, just in case.
It was three a.m. when I heard him come in. He crept quietly into my room. He didn’t say a word, and I didn’t either. I was afraid to speak, afraid that I would scare him away. I watched his shadow in the dark as he got undressed. Then he crawled into bed with me and pushed his warm, lithe body against mine.
“Help me remember, Zach,” he whispered as he wrapped himself around me. “Remind me again how right it is.”
It started out slow and tender. But then that fierce, passionate part of him took over, and I let him take the lead. He pushed me onto my back, straddled me, and drove himself down onto me like he had something to prove.
I guess maybe he did.
Afterward he moved to the other side of the bed, away from me, although he still hung on to my hand.
“You have her number, Zach?”
“I do.”
“What you gonna do with it?”
“Whatever you want me to do. If you tell me to throw it away, I will.”
He was quiet for a minute. All I could hear was his breathing, and I wondered if he had fallen asleep. But then he said quietly,
“Keep it, Zach. I don’t want it yet. Not right now. Maybe never.” He stopped, took a deep breath, and sighed. “But, it makes me feel better for some reason, knowin’ you have it.”
“Anything you want, Ang.”
He held my hand tight until he fell asleep.
AFTER that it was like the whole thing had never happened. It was as if he had forgotten about it altogether. Of course I knew that wasn’t possible, but I was glad to see that he had recovered so quickly. He never mentioned it, and I didn’t either.