by Mara White
I know that it’s not the Dominican day parade today and it’s not the right venue for the festivities anyway. I can’t believe that I live only a few blocks away and I never knew that such a gathering place existed.
“Is this every day?” I ask.
“Weekends. Mainly in summer,” Jaylee says. He finds a spot to park and comes around to help me out of the truck.
“Welcome to the beach, Height’s style,” he says.
I see Oscar and a few other guys I recognize as some of Jaylee’s friends. Oscar apparently made a faster trip back across the river than we did. The guys greet Jaylee with various handshakes and slaps on the back. Then they approach me and offer a light handshake and a kiss on the cheek. I’m surprised to hear some of them murmur my name with their greetings. I wonder how much they know about Jaylee and me, and whether or not they know the source of his windfall.
We walk down to the shore and pass people selling fried fish, coco helado, and fresh fruit cups. Jaylee has his arm around my waist and is singing along to a Bachata song blaring from someone’s nearby radio. He seems as carefree and happy as I’ve ever seen him. His eyes flash to mine and he winks at me. They’re a deep gold framed by his thick, dark lashes.
Oscar appears out of nowhere with a black, zip-up life vest for me when we reach the shore. Jaylee goes off to see if Miguel is back from a turn on the jet ski so that we can use it. Oscar offers to hold my things for me and in doing so makes me feel like he’s Jaylee’s assistant and I wonder what their relationship is really like. I pull my dress over my head and put the life vest on. Jaylee immediately appears as soon as my dress comes off. He faces away from me and bends his knees slightly.
“Sube,” he commands and I do. I can’t remember the last time anyone carried me piggyback. He wades through the water and deposits me on the back of the jet ski. Jaylee straddles the machine and pulls my arms around his waist. I don’t know if I’ll be able to concentrate on the scenery with Jaylee so close and half naked between my legs. His thighs are ripped with muscle and his back is cut and defined as well. His flesh is warm against mine. There’s a fluid joyousness running through me and I want to freeze the moment, to suspend the ending into perpetuity.
Jaylee is more than well-versed in jet ski maneuvering, and we zig-zag up and down the Hudson at exhilarating speeds. It’s amazing to see the bridge from underneath and we take in the Palisades and even El Malecón itself from our vantage point. Many of the jet skiers park in huddles out on the water and socialize in between rides. Jaylee eventually joins a huddle, and surprises me by greeting almost everyone by name. Does everyone know each other in this community? I feel like such an outsider. Instead of joining the conversation Jaylee turns around in the seat and faces me.
“What d’ya think?” he asks, his face searching mine for approval.
“Beautiful,” I say and lean in to kiss him savoring the sweat and sun on his skin.
“Are you mad, about the jet ski?” he asks.
“No, not at all. It’s fine. I just want you to know that if you ever need money. . . it’s not just Robert.” How do I say this without sounding like a complete asshole? “I have money, I mean my family – just ask me for money if you need it.”
“You gonna give me money, Kate?”
“All I’m trying to say is that if you need it, I can –”
Jaylee puts his head in his hands and shakes it frustrated.
“I’m never gonna ask you for money. I took his money porque es un fucking hijo de la porra. I have a fucking job.”
“You do?” I say it with way too much relief and surprise and quickly recoil at my own transparency.
“My mom don’t work. Mamá gets something from SSI, but Janinie’s only sixteen. She’s still in school. Somebody’s got to work.”
“Where do you work?” I’m more than curious, but at the same time I expect him to lie to me. Truthfully, we’re engaged in a stupid game, because ultimately, I don’t really care if he works or not.
“At my Uncle’s hardware store in South Bronx. Three days a week. Sometimes more if they send me out on jobs.”
“What kind of jobs?” Maybe he does work. Maybe that’s why he can’t see me that often.
“Plumbing, electric, carpentry, all that shit. Maybe I don’t got all your diplomas, but I ain’t no thief.”
“I don’t really have a PhD.” I think he’s the last person that would care, but I want to tell him just the same. It makes me feel like I can relate to him in some way. I’ve never had to worry about money – ever.
“Nah?”
“I never finished. I did everything but my dissertation. I was trying to, I had my girls, I got a lot of extensions. I just keep paying to maintain matriculation. It’s stupid, really. I tortured myself about it forever, but then I met you and I stopped caring.”
“You sayin’ that hanging out with me is making you stupid?”
“Not at all. Hanging out with you is making me happy. I’m sorry I thought you didn’t have a job. It’s just that Stephani-”
“Listen, Stephani don’t know shit about me or my family, so don’t let her tell you nothing. People think they know shit because of my pops but I ain’t in the game like he was. I got some side shit but so do everybody in the Heights.”
“Do you ever think about leaving the neighborhood? About getting out of the Heights?”
“Nah, Kate. Never. My history is here. I’m bound to these streets.”
“I should have just asked you directly about work. We should communicate more, be more open with one another.”
“Instead of just fucking?”
This makes me blush. I’m speechless.
“Qué tu tiene’? Te da verguenza?”
I nod my head.
“What you really want with me, Kate? You still married. You want to be with me – like really be with me – or you just want to fuck, like on the side?”
This is too direct and not what I expected from him. Goddamn me and my big mouth. Being open and communicating sounded good in theory. I’m stuck face to face with Jaylee, floating in the middle of the Hudson and I have to answer this. It’s a legitimate question.
“Would you choose me over your family if you had to choose?”
I know it’s rhetorical but I don’t know how to answer him.
“No, Kate. That ain’t right. I asked you.” I hold my breath and say nothing. “Yes! I’d fucking choose you. I ain’t afraid to say it.” But I can tell by his smile that he’s making light of the question to ease my discomfort. “I got to keep three women in hair – that ain’t cheap. He’s smiling fully now. “One, now that I can handle.”
“But what about Pearl and Ada?” I’m so confused. I’m not sure if we’re joking around or if we’re being serious.
“I got your girls,” he replies softly, all trace of jest gone from his face.
Even to consider it is indulgent. Jaylee could never support me and my daughters. I’d be the one supporting all of us.
“Nah, Kate, don’t worry bout it. You just want to fuck on the side. I get it. I’m not gonna make you say it.”
I long to tell him that I want to be with him even if it means trouble and pain and disaster. Sometimes I want him so desperately that even death sounds like an inviting alternative. Now he’s hurt and angry and I’m unable to say anything to soothe him. I’m inept. I can’t even deal with the consequences of my own actions.
He takes me for another spin and then stops to float outside the groups. He turns around again to face me and the anger seems to have drained away from him. He is in his element out here on the water. The horizon is slowly breaking into the golden hour and Jaylee’s eyes are so clear and bright. I lean in to kiss him and as soon as our mouths touch my body demands more. My desire for Jaylee is stronger than me. It’s a compulsion, beyond my control. I open my mouth to him and pull my hips up so that I’m straddling his lap. He puts both hands on my ass and pulls me down onto his erection. I’m turned on enough to l
et him take me in plain sight on the jet ski or even in the filthy water, but Jaylee pushes me back by the shoulders and flips his body around.
“If I’m just your side piece then I gotta decide if I still want to do this.”
It’s fair and valid, but I hang my head in despair. I wish I could tell him how I really feel. I’m crazy about him and I’m terrified of what that means for my future.
As soon as we’re back on shore, Jaylee spots Janinie by a tree kissing a young man. He storms off and leaves me to fend for myself on the shore. Oscar appears, again out of nowhere and hands me my bag. I wiggle back into my sundress and try to smooth my windblown hair. I throw on my flip- flops and sunglasses and offer Oscar a brief parting kiss. When I turn around to leave, Jaylee is fast approaching an open beer in one hand and in the other, a closed one, presumably for me.
“Y dónde tu va?” he asks, his tone accusatory.
“Home,” is all I say. I’m exhausted from our interaction. I want to get away from him before my body takes me places that my mind isn’t equipped to deal with right now.
“Stay. We’re just getting started. Who I’m gonna dance with, el Flash?”
We stand in a circle of his friends. Some of them are older, but many appear even younger than Jaylee. He keeps me close to his body at all times, an arm possessively draped over me. I lean into him and enjoy the contact and the closeness, his scent, the sound of his voice. The beer is terrible, malt liquor, and, in addition, the guys have been bumping a bottle of Hennessy in a paper bag they’re passing around. I politely decline. I’m already feeling the effects of the sun and jet skiing in addition to the beer. I want to stay in the moment. I want to be in control of this.
A few girls wander in and out of our circle but none of them stay put. None of the other men are as affectionate with their girlfriends as Jaylee is with me. I wonder if this is standard behavior for him. The men code switch in and out of Spanish so thick with Caribbean accents that, despite being fluent, to my ear it mutates into babble and I keep losing track of the conversation. At one point a young man refers to me as ‘la gringa,’ and later, says to Jaylee “y tú con esa vieja.” Before he finishes his sentence, Jaylee puts him in his place with a litany of insults delivered so rapidly, it sounds poetic. After the guy backs down, Jaylee warns him that I speak Spanish better than he does and for that matter probably better than his mother. The antagonist flips him off and leaves the circle while the others laugh and hurl insults. Jaylee grabs the momentary distraction to whirl me around to face him. He kisses me full and hard on the mouth and runs his hand through my windswept hair. It’s definitely a drunk kiss but full of sexuality and emotion, as only Jaylee knows how. The whole world falls away and Jaylee’s kiss becomes the center of my universe. It’s saturated with passion and vitality and it flows out of him into me. My whole being is buzzing. This is my fix, the antidote to the banality of life.
A ruckus of protest starts up behind us as Jaylee’s friends toss empty beer cans at his back and chide our public affection.
“Te la va’ comer!” I hear someone yell.
Jaylee responds by reaching one arm down along my leg and scooping me up, fireman style. He walks away from the group and sets me down by a tree, never breaking our kiss. The crowd roars anew with their taunting and heckling. Jaylee grabs my face and kisses me deeper ignoring the hoopla he’s creating. It’s a kiss to end all kisses, a consumption, a holy communion.
As hard as it is to pull myself away from him, I know I can’t stay out all night. I sent Robert a text saying that I’d be home soon and he replied with a single question mark. It’s been weighing on me more than a punctuation mark should.
“I have to go home,” I say when I regain my breath.
“Stay,” he says.
“I have to at least say goodnight to the girls.”
“Quédate conmigo.”
“No puedo.”
Jaylee takes my hand and walks me toward the stairs at Riverbank Park. The truck must have gone home with its owner; it appears that I’m walking home tonight. When we reach the bottom of the stairs Jaylee grabs me again and pushes me up against the fence. His hands creep under my dress and find their way to my ass. His kiss is overpowering and he pushes his hips into mine.
“Did you miss me, baby?” he asks.
“So badly,” I murmur into his mouth.
“Were you with him?”
His jealousy seems so immature to me. Can the sex really bother him more than the marriage?
“Why?” I ask him. “Were you still celibate for me?”
He pulls away and smiles at me. His expression is soft, his eyes hooded with alcohol and desire.
“No!” He says, shaking his head. “I picked up some culo. I was pissed. Not at you. At your man.”
I try to remain unreadable.
“Some,” I swallow. “How was that?”
I don’t want to be jealous – didn’t think I would be. Something in my gut is falling and I’m so heavy with mood that I collapse my body weight into his chest and start to cry. I’m crying so easily and so much since this fiasco started.
“See?” he says somewhat vindictively, but then quickly begins to soothe me. “It was nothing. All I could think about was you.” He pats my head and slaps my butt. “See why I tell you not to fuck him? It don’t feel so good, do it?”
“How much is ‘some culo’?”
“I don’t know, fuck, like three, maybe more?”
“Three in three weeks, huh?’
“It don’t matter. I don’t want to be with nobody but you.”
I look into his golden eyes and they are full of warmth and affection. I pull his mouth to mine and kiss him with desperation. It’s a possessive kiss. I want him all to myself. I can’t stand the idea of other women touching him. He’s mine. My Jaylee. He moans in response and pushes his groin into mine.
“I’ll take you right here, on the stairs.” He’s smiling ear-to-ear and somewhat unsteady on his feet.
I shove him away before I concede to public intercourse. I’m aching for his touch more than ever, but I don’t want to reunite sexually with him while he’s so drunk. I feel like I lose him enough during sex already. I’m not sure I’m ready for what’s in store when he’s completely uninhibited.
“I really, truly have to go. Now. Can I see you tomorrow?”
This is the first time I’ve asked him for plans.
“Amor,” he purrs into my ear ignoring my question. He takes my earlobe in between his lips and gently pulls and bites. He webs his fingers through mine and pulls back looking into my eyes, then gently kisses me on the lips.
“Here,” he says grabbing my wrist and wrangles off my rings again. He drunkenly shoves them into his pocket. “Okay, you can go.”
I try to pull away but he holds onto my wrist with an unyielding grip.
“Jaylee, come on,” I say trying to tug my arm away.
“Wait.” He reaches into his white t-shirt and pulls something from around his neck. “I want you to wear this for me.”
I bow my head as he places a delicate scapular on a red string around my neck. He adjusts it so that one icon hangs down the middle of my back between my shoulders and the other, almost between my breasts. I’ve seen him wear it before, most notably the first time we had sex, in his family’s apartment. The icon between my breasts is la Señora de la Altagracia, the patron saint of the Dominican Republic.
“In the back it’s the flag. Dios, Patria, y Libertad.” He flashes what’s presumably a gang symbol with his hands.
The gift makes me smile.
“I love it. It’s almost sacrilegious. It’s brilliant.”
“What do mean? It’s religious.”
“Sure, but it’s religious nationalism. Right? It’s meant to bolster a false connection between God and country - to perpetuate the myth of the white, Catholic Dominican-”
“Kate!”
“What?”
“Shut up! You probably right, b
ut shut the fuck up. Please.” He looks at me tenderly and waivers on his feet. “My dad wore one just like it. I want you to wear it for me.”
“I will. I love it,” I say, running my fingers over la Altagracia.
We kiss each other goodbye on the cheek with no mention of when we’ll meet again. I climb the stairs heavy with the dread of returning home in my throat. Robert will know that I’ve been out with Jaylee and I’ve no intention of trying to hide it from him.
When I reach the Riverbank bridge that crosses over the highway I look down onto El Malecón. The sun has set and I can barely make out the white of Jaylee’s t-shirt as he makes his way back toward the lingering crowd.
CHAPTER 12
Robert is in the kitchen, pacing. There’s a perspired lowball full of ice cubes and a bottle of Johnny Walker on the table. I set my bag down in the hallway and step carefully into the kitchen. The only light Robert has on is the fluorescent one above the stove and it gives off a sickly glow. I feel like I’m walking into the morgue. I want to run back to Jaylee and spend the night with him on his pullout couch. I know I have to be fair to Robert; he deserves my honesty.
“How was the game?” I ask.
“Are you going to pretend that things are okay between us? Because they’re not.”
Robert crosses his arms and looks ready to fight. His eyes are red rimmed either from alcohol or stress and his usually perfectly groomed hair is a mess.
“Were you with him?” he asks.
“Yes,” I reply.
“Were you having sex with him? You look like you have been.”
“No, but I did kiss him.”
I look down at the floor. I don’t have any excuses or even anything I can say to make it less hurtful.