by Matt Whyman
‘Alberto, I can’t accept this. It’s too much.’
I was gawping at the offering when a CD clattered into my lap. Nirvana: Unplugged in New York City. A live acoustic session. Not a tape, or a pirate copy, but the real deal.
‘Take it,’ he said, when I protested again. ‘Else I’ll be offended.’
That evening, I felt like I was looking out across the rooftops from a throne. We fired up the stereo, worked out how to put the beat box on repeat, and then listened to Nirvana and smoked and tuned out of the world around. Everyone knew that the singer Kurt Cobain had taken his own life. According to the guy who sold the CD to Alberto, he had turned that shotgun on himself soon after the gig recorded here. That just made me listen to it more closely, wondering if he knew at the time that his end was near. He certainly didn’t sound sad or frightened, just calm and a little jaded, like someone looking forward to a long sleep.
Firecrackers filled the silence between each song. They had been going off every sundown for a while now, and sounded exactly like gunfire. Maybe bullets featured in the mix, but there was no mistaking the fiesta spirit that was beginning to seize the city. The bunting was out all over the barrio, and people had made arrangements so they would be close to a television or a radio set come Saturday. We had no need to make such plans. For when Nacional played their first match of the season at the weekend, we would be there to cheer them on.
‘It should be like this all the time,’ I said to Alberto, as another song closed. We were lying flat on our backs now, watching points of light break out above.
‘Damn right,’ agreed Alberto. ‘I imagine it will be if we get a win.’
I hadn’t even considered what the result would be – hadn’t thought further than the kick off – but now I started thinking way beyond the match. Eventually, I said:
‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’
‘I am grown up,’ he said, still focused on the stars.
‘You know what I mean. And don’t say a striker because you know that’s my ambition.’
I heard him chuckle, and then fall quiet. Kurt was singing over another volley of crackers about a man who sold the world. The guitar sounded shaky and unsteady in places, but that made it seem more real to me.
‘You know what I want to be most of all?’ Alberto said eventually. ‘I just want to be safe.’
‘From what?’
I turned so I was resting on my forearm. Alberto took a breath, and glanced across to check that he had my attention: ‘I keep dreaming that I’m running away from something. I can’t tell you what it is, because whenever I look over my shoulder I see darkness.’
‘It’s just a nightmare,’ I said. ‘We all have those.’
‘Sonny, this one comes to me so often it doesn’t even scare me any more. I dream I’m fleeing for my life, and that my only escape is to wake up. Just once, though, it would be nice to dream that I was running towards something. I don’t want to be so uptight about what’s behind me all the time, do you understand?’
I wasn’t entirely sure that I did, but I nodded anyway. ‘It’ll happen,’ I assured him. ‘It’ll happen for us both, brother. We’re going places already.’
Alberto sighed, and heaved himself into a sitting position. He lowered the volume on the stereo, looked out towards the scrapers. They stood like tombstones at the centre of the city, hemmed in by the sprawl.
‘If Mamá finds out I got a gun,’ he said next, ‘the only place I’ll be heading is Hell.’
‘You sound scared?’ Now it was my turn to sit up.
‘I’m not scared of what she’ll do to me,’ he said quickly. ‘I’m just worried what the truth would do to her.’
‘She’d freak out, for sure.’
‘Freak out? It would destroy her, man, and that would be my fault. Her only son, packing a piece.’
‘I won’t tell a soul,’ I said to reassure him. ‘I swear it.’
Alberto shrugged, and lit himself a cigarette. ‘She won’t take any money from me,’ he revealed. ‘I’ve stopped offering it to her because all she does is look at me like she’s going to cry, and now she’s started searching through my stuff. Yesterday, I came home to find she’d taken my room apart and put everything back just how I had left it.’
‘Alberto,’ I laughed, ‘she probably just dusted! It’s no wonder you’re having bad dreams. You need to calm down.’
‘I’ve got a gun, man! That’s not so easy.’
‘Then let me look after it for you.’ I didn’t even think before I said this, but it was too late to take back. Just for one night,’ I added. ‘So you get a good night’s sleep.’
Alberto stared at me, considering what I had said, and then looked away shaking his head. ‘It’ll give you bad dreams, Sonny. I guarantee it.’
‘I can handle it, Alberto. Trust me!’ Now it was my turn to speak out. For this would be the perfect way for me to show that I was just as capable as him. Alberto may have been the chosen one, but it would prove that we were still equals. ‘Come on, brother. What do you say?’
‘I say you’re crazy, Sonny. But you know what? I’ve been losing so much shut eye lately that it sounds like a good idea to me.’ He unbuckled the holster as he said this, and I felt my heart begin to race. ‘You’ve got to promise me you won’t fool around with it – don’t even take off the safety catch. They’ve been counting the bullets see, just to make sure I haven’t been working for anyone else.’
I went from hot to cold as he handed me the holster, again when I touched the pistol grip. It felt surprisingly light, like a toy, though Alberto seemed to think otherwise. He rolled his shoulders, said it was a relief to get the straps off his back.
‘Shall I wear it?’ I asked. The truth was I didn’t know what to do. I felt like I had just been handed a newborn baby. I had no idea how to hold it, and pretty much froze up.
‘Shall I wear it?’ he repeated, mimicking me. ‘No, Sonny. You take pot shots into the street until someone shoots back at you. Of course you wear it! Under your shirt, nice and tight so nobody can see.’
Alberto buckled me into the holster, and made me swear on my mother’s life that I would just forget about it. Then he finished by promising to be at my apartment first thing to collect it from me. ‘So there goes your chance to come round and score on my sister,’ he said, with a wink.
I stood up, feeling dizzy. The dope wasn’t helping, and that last jibe of his had come out of nowhere. Even so, I was determined to show that I was in control here. I was the one with the weapon now, not him. I had a gun, with bullets in the clip. I had never felt such a sense of exhilaration. I had never been so scared of myself either.
‘Don’t forget the beat box,’ he said. ‘It’s yours, remember.’
‘Alberto, why don’t you take it home?’
‘A gift is a gift,’ he insisted, dropping down to collect it for me. ‘But if it makes you feel better, think of it as payment for one night’s peace of mind.’
I hit the stop button, found the handle, and together we left the rooftop in silence. The city remained restless, as it always did on a balmy night, only now I felt as if I was at the very heart of it.
8
‘Sonny? Was it you making that almighty racket on the roof? Show yourself, boy!’
This was my welcome home, before I had even closed the door behind me. I knew my mother was out because Uncle Jairo was watching TV with the light off again. It sounded like a talk show – one of those trashy ones where everyone shouts and my uncle felt he had to do the same rather than turn down the volume. I pushed through the curtain, found him nursing a beer at the table. He had the window wide open, but I was surprised he could hear anything outside. The glare from the screen made his long face look all milky, and threw his shadow across the wall behind him. On the show he was watching, two women were screaming at each other. They looked close to a catfight, and the host was having some trouble keeping them apart.
‘Uncle Jairo, I’m go
nna turn in. Could you quieten it down a little?’
‘These bitches need a real man to sort them out.’ Jairo said this without taking his eyes off the screen. At the same time the host made some lame attempt to intervene, only for one of the guests to shove him hard in the chest.
‘Are you gonna let her disrespect you like that?’ Jairo almost knocked his beer off the table, then seemed to recognise he had just lost his cool with a television tube. He dragged a palm from his brow to the back of his neck, and shifted his attention towards me. I was still holding on to the curtain, half turned so he couldn’t see me properly. Alberto had assured me that the holster was invisible under my shirt, but it still felt like a hot brick to me. As a result, I completely forgot what else I had come in with.
‘Show me that.’
‘What?’
‘The stereo dumbass.’ Jairo gestured at the beat box, then waved me closer. He seemed a little unsteady, not drunk but on the way. ‘Let me see what we have here.’
‘It’s mine,’ I said, thinking if I handed it over I’d never see it again.
‘Sure it’s yours.’ He paused to take a slug from the bottle. ‘So my brother’s boy has turned to thievery now? I knew this day would come.’
‘I didn’t steal it,’ I said hotly. ‘It’s a gift from Alberto. He sort of … bought it for me.’ The more I tried to explain myself, the worse it sounded. I began to wish I had told him to mind his own business, but it was too late for that now.
‘So what? Is Alberto your boyfriend all of a sudden?’ Jairo seemed amused for a second, but then he started coughing and that wiped the smile from his face. Finally, he grabbed enough breath to demand the stereo. ‘C’mon, Sonny, are you deaf as well as queer?’
‘Turn down the TV and I might be able to hear you insult me a bit better!’ For a beat, it seemed like even the women on the screen fell silent. Jairo just looked up at me, no longer coughing but wheezing heavily, and then made a vague attempt to stand.
‘Do you need your cane?’ I asked, hoping to gloss over what had just been said.
My uncle nodded, eyes down now, supporting himself with one hand on the table. ‘That would be good,’ he said, and stayed stooped there as I fetched it for him.
I didn’t think either of us wanted to fall out all the time. It seemed so pointless, a war that neither of us could win because we’d only destroy my mother. I collected the cane from the corner of the room, and guided both his hands to the crook.
‘Just take it easy and get your breath back.’
He thanked me twice, reached up to his full height, and for a moment I thought he was falling into me.
The blow got me in the chest – a two-fisted sock with the crook in-between that knocked me off my feet. I fell back into the curtain, bringing it down with me. The stereo hit the floor at the same time, and that was when my uncle started yelling over the TV.
‘How dare you play the big man with me, Sonny! When will you learn that I’m the man here, understand? I … am … the man!’
I knew he was going to hit me again. I thrust out my hand, but he kicked it away. Uncle Jairo had a clear advantage, and not just because he was standing over me. He got me in the balls next, so hard I curled up like a salted slug. The pain swam into my stomach, up my back, and left me writhing pathetically. Even though my uncle was sick, I was no match when his fury took a hold.
‘I pity your father, giving birth to a loser like you …’
He cursed and swore at me with every strike, and went on to scream about my mother, too. He was careful to avoid my face, I realised, but I only had two hands and that wasn’t enough to shield the rest of my body.
Then he began to use his shoe heel to stamp on me, and I thought about the gun.
I could feel it underneath me, digging into my back. A voice in my head screamed at me to reach round for it and take out that sucker. There was no way I would let him finish me off like this, after all. I wasn’t going to leave the world in the same way as that thief had left Galliano’s store. I was a fighter. And like Alberto, I just wanted to be safe.
‘You stupid, goddam son of a whore …’
I knew I was capable of squeezing the trigger, but I had made a promise to my friend. That’s why I kept reminding myself that this was just a punishment. Jairo wasn’t dumb enough to kill me here, or leave a mark I couldn’t hide, so I bunched up as best I could until he had finished.
‘Damn it, now the stereo is bust,’ he wheezed eventually, and gave me one last, half-hearted kick. ‘Why is everything made so bad these days?’
I heard him drop back into the chair, and wrestle with his inhaler. The women on the TV were still arguing, the audience behind them now. I didn’t move from the floor. The pain from where he’d caught me in the huevas had turned my stomach to stone, and my sides felt like they’d come apart if I stopped hugging myself. All I could do was fight for breath, just like my uncle, and feel the curtain underneath my cheek grow damp with tears.
‘I’m sorry that it’s come to this,’ I heard him say next, only to break off and cough into his fist again. ‘Just show some respect in future. You’re twelve years old, damn it. A kid your age shouldn’t have to be told twice. Just because you’re smart, doesn’t mean you can be a smartass, understand? Your mother thinks you got an old man’s head on your shoulders, but I don’t hear old men going on and on and on. They know when to shut the hell up, Sonny. How else do you think they get to their age?’
When I felt sure that he was through with me, I crawled off the curtain and took myself to bed. I couldn’t say whether I passed out straight away or a long time later. Either way, all I could hear was those two women warring – the volume racked up by another notch.
I stirred next morning to hear Uncle Jairo and Alberto at the door. I didn’t open my eyes, just listened. My uncle was speaking in a forced whisper, and seemed annoyed that Alberto wouldn’t follow his example.
‘Sonny had a bad night and needs to sleep,’ Jairo was saying. ‘I’m sure he’ll call on you when he wakes.’
‘Please,’ Alberto piped up again. ‘It’s important that I see him now.’
‘Will you ‘keep the noise down!’ hissed my uncle. ‘If you disturb his mother too, then God help you. Now stop being a prick and go home.’
I wanted to get out of bed, but my body didn’t feel right. Sure enough, when I tried to sit up a charge flashed across my chest that reminded me what had happened. Next I heard Alberto click his tongue and tell my uncle he’d be waiting for me. By the time I made it out of bed, Jairo was back behind the kitchen table. He was wearing his spectacles, and had the stereo in front of him. One side of the plastic housing was all smashed, and he was covering it with strips of parcel tape.
‘Your boyfriend called,’ he said, without even looking across.
‘He isn’t my boyfriend. Please, Uncle Jairo.’
‘Whatever.’
I stood there clutching my sides, feeling too weak for another fight, and turned to look in on my mother. Their room was on the other side of the curtain divide, and I was surprised to see the bed empty.
‘I heard you say she was sleeping.’
‘Maybe I did.’ Jairo chuckled to himself. ‘Whatever Alberto thinks of me, I’m damn sure he respects your Mamá.’
‘So where is she?’
‘Out.’ He looked up at me, startled at what he saw, and quickly returned to his work. Why don’t you go back to bed, Sonny? Rest yourself a while.’
‘What time did she come home last night?’
‘She’ll be home later, Sonny.’
‘Uncle Jairo—’
‘That’s enough!’ he slapped his hand on the table. It made the stereo jump as well as me. ‘Why do you have to cross me all the time, huh? She’s probably at church, OK? Praying for your sorry soul.’
‘Probably? I don’t believe you.’
‘Fine. You want the truth? She didn’t come home at all last night. Seems she likes her job too much. Now get out of
my sight, because I swear I’m in no mood to be reasonable today, and when your mother does get in she’ll be sorry, just like her son.’
I was thankful that Alberto answered the door when I called for him, and not Beatriz. I was in the same clothes as the day before, the gun still strapped in the holster. In truth I wasn’t sure I could get it off. I had been too dazed to try the night before. Now the searing pain in my ribs stopped me from finding the buckle.
‘Sonny!’ he said brightly, and stepped aside for me. ‘Your uncle said you’d had a bad night. Are you ill? You look like you’ve been puking, the face on you.’
‘It’s nothing like that.’
I heard him close the door behind me, and winced when he clapped me on the back. ‘So, what happened?’
‘I had some problems getting to sleep, I suppose.’
‘Told you.’ Alberto invited me to sit down at the table, grinning as he took the chair opposite. ‘Man, that gun is guaranteed to keep you staring at the ceiling all night, but I appreciate you taking it. I slept like a big old baby. It was sweet, some of the things I dreamed about.’ And that’s where he stopped, because I wasn’t laughing with him. ‘Do you want some coffee?’ he asked. ‘Everyone is out this morning. I figured we should bring the stereo down, or maybe watch some cartoons for a while.’
‘Sure,’ I said, thinking I might cry. I tried hard not to meet Alberto’s eye, but he was waiting for me to look at him. When I glanced up finally, he swore under his breath.
‘The gun. You’ve still got it.’
‘Of course.’ I patted my side to reassure him. ‘Alberto, stop staring at me like that. Everything is fine.’
Alberto blinked and stepped back at last. ‘Well, I appreciate you looking after it. If you ever want me to do something for you, just say the word.’ At the same time, he gestured for me to hand it over. I bit into my lip and reached around for the clasp to the holster.
‘Here, let me help you with that.’