by Su J. Sokol
After a while, I take out my screen to write Michael a message. Of course, I can’t say what happened, but I can tell him I had a fight with one of my friends and my parents won’t let us hang out any more. This is pretty much what happened. The real story would mess his head up too much. Michael’s smart and stuff, but I don’t think he’s as mature as I am. Maybe kids in the U.S. really are more naive.
FORTY-SIX
Laek
I’m perched on top of the high ramp in the skate park. I’ve been here since dawn, watching the dark shape of Siri’s school grow sharp against the lightening sky. From the ramp, I can see anyone who approaches the park. Whether on foot or by vehicle.
I don’t think about the confrontation I’m about to have. I’d rather just follow my instincts. Instead, I’m thinking about confrontations from my past. Other ways they might have played out. Where would I be now if I’d acted differently? Where would my kids be? Would things be better or worse?
I finally see him. Arm clutching his backpack, peering around, hoping for a few sales. It’s not the first time I’ve watched this park. Nor his comings and goings. Siri would be mortified if she knew. I jump down from the ramp. He’s startled but tries not to show it. I give him a signal I’ve seen others use, then duck behind the small brick building containing the public toilets and supply room. He obeys my summons. I’m almost disappointed by how trusting he is.
“Gabriel.” I pronounce his name in the Spanish way. He’s thrown off for a minute. Answers in French. When I don’t respond immediately, he switches to English.
“Do I know you?” he asks.
I decide, for once, to stick with English. I don’t know why. It’s a visceral decision.
“I know you. I’m Siri’s father.”
“Siri who?” he says, but his lie is obvious. His eyes shift quickly sideways, searching for an escape. I don’t give him the opportunity. I use his surprise to push him ahead of me into the men’s room. I close the metal door tightly behind us. Stand in front of it to block his exit.
“What the hell! Lemme out of here. You got no right.”
“I just want to talk to you,” I say calmly.
“Fuck that. I’m outta here.”
He makes a dive for the door. I catch him by the shoulders and shove him, hard. He stumbles but keeps on his feet. He seems wary, not yet afraid, studying his environment carefully. I look only at him. I already know the layout of the room. Two stalls and a urinal on one side, metal sinks on the adjacent wall to my right, a broom, rake, and mop in the far corner, and opposite, some kind of cleaning device with a long plastic hose. Gabriel’s gaze returns to the door. The only exit is through me. I watch him decide to try to talk his way out.
“I didn’t do nothing.”
“You and I both know you did something.”
“I didn’t do nothing wrong.”
“Siri’s twelve years old. And you are … fifteen? Sixteen?”
“Fifteen. Siri’s almost thirteen. Anyhow, no one’s forcing her to hang out with me.”
“That doesn’t mean you get to touch her.”
“She likes me.”
“Yeah. She did. But that makes what you did worse, not better.”
“I didn’t hurt her.”
I take a step towards him. Think about Siri’s tears when Janie snatched the bra out of her pocket. The look of naked betrayal on her face last night when she thought no one was looking.
“You didn’t hurt her?” I repeat.
He backs up. I follow. He’s up against the wall now, with me practically on top of him. He’s lean and muscular, like I was at that age, but I’m taller and have a physical solidity he won’t match for years. He tries to pull away but I pin him to the wall. I can feel the beat of my pulse, but I also feel very calm. I place my hand on his cheek. Stroke it gently with my fingers. He’s old enough to have some stubble, but just barely.
“Gabriel, you can do better than that,” I say softly, almost tenderly.
He tries to push me away but there’s no room to do anything but grapple with me.
“Leave me alone. Don’t touch me.”
“But I’m not hurting you. I’m being real sweet with you. I can be a lot rougher,” I add.
“Let go, just let me go. Please!” I feel him tremble and can smell his sweat.
“OK. Since you’re asking so nicely.”
I remove my hand. Take a step back. He rubs his cheek hard. Edges away sideways.
“Let’s start again, Gabriel. And listen carefully because I don’t want to repeat myself. If a girl says ‘no’ or ‘stop it’ or squirms away from you, or anything like that, it means you leave her be. The same goes for a boy, by the way.”
“I’m not …”
“Shut up.” I stop. Wait to be sure I have his undivided attention. “Do you understand?”
“Yeah. OK. But Siri …”
“Yeah, about Siri. She’s a straightforward person. If she ever wants something like that from you, she’ll let you know. Unless and until that happens, you don’t touch her. Understood?”
He doesn’t answer.
“Is that understood, Gabriel?”
“Yeah, whatever,” he answers, recovering some of his bravado.
“Because otherwise, you will be very, very sorry.”
Saying these words, I feel this strange detachment. Like I’m reciting a script. I take another step back, thinking about this. He moves even further away from me. From this more comfortable distance, he gives me a defiant look.
“You watch yourself too. Siri told me everything. I could tell the government about you. Your government. And they’ll come after you and kill you. Like they killed my father.”
For a moment, I have a pang of conscience, listening to the empty threats of this child trying to be a man. Thinking to intimidate me with the spectre of his own father’s death. There’s something very sad about this. But then I remember Siri’s face last night when I looked in on her. Like her best friend had stabbed her in the back.
“Do your worst. But if you hurt Siri, whatever happens, I’ll find you. Like I did today.”
“You don’t scare me.”
“No. Maybe you’re still too stupid to be scared. When I was your age, I wasn’t scared of anything either. But then the same government that killed your father arrested me and my friends. I was held for six months. Tortured and …” I swallow hard as I watch his eyes widen. “Yeah, when I was fifteen, I thought I was pretty tough too. We were both wrong.”
“Are we done talking? I … I have to go to school.”
“Sure. You can go.”
I move aside and let him leave. Follow him outside. The morning’s grey but dry. Gabriel walks away, towards his school. I lean against the building, hands folded over my chest. He turns around once. Sees me watching him. Walks a little faster. I watch until he’s out of sight. Then l slide down to the ground and press my head to my knees. I don’t want to think about what I just did. I feel like I need a shower. I rub my eyes hard with the heels of my hands until all I can see are rough smears of colour and light moving in front of my retinas, blocking all other images.
When I get home from work at suppertime, Siri’s waiting for me, a look of fury on her face. I sit down at the kitchen table next to Janie and across from Simon.
“What did you do? Tell me, Daddy. What did you do to Gabriel?”
“I thought you weren’t going to school today.” I look at Janie.
“She decided to go after all. She didn’t want it to seem like she was scared or ashamed.”
“Tell me what you did to Gabriel, Daddy.”
“I didn’t do anything to him. We just had a talk.”
“You must have done something. He wouldn’t even look at me. He acted like … like he was scared of me or something.”
“Well, I’d rather he be scared of you than the other way around.”
“I’m not scared of him. He won’t try anything like that again with me.”
“No, he won’t,” I say and pour myself a glass of water from a reused wine bottle.
“I thought we could still be friends. Once he realized what he did was wrong. After we talked it out or something. But now he won’t even speak to me!”
“Didn’t he say anything, Siri?” Janie asks, putting some leftover vegetable stew on my rice. I take the serving spoon from her hand.
“Yeah. He told me he was too old for me. That I should hang with kids my own age. And one more thing. He told me my father was crazy. But I guess I knew that already.”
Siri shoots me another angry look. I keep silent. Let Janie handle this.
It’s been a while since I’ve heard Siri go off about how we ruined her life by moving here. This time, there’s a tone of tired hopelessness in her voice when she adds that I’ve driven away all her new friends, too. Just in time for her thirteenth birthday. She asks Janie why we don’t just kill her instead. I know all about adolescent drama, but her words still make me flinch. I put my fork down. Notice that Simon isn’t eating either.
“You usually like my veggie stew, Simon. Do you want some cheese on top?” I ask.
“It’s fine, Papa. I’m just not so hungry today.” He looks up at me and something changes his mind. “Sure. Cheese would be great.”
I return to the table with a block of parmesan and the metal grater. Janie’s suggesting different ideas to Siri for celebrating her birthday. Meanwhile, Siri is working herself up to a tirade. Something I’ve seen Janie do when she’s upset but would rather be angry. Siri turns to me. I brace myself. She stops, closes her mouth. Turns all her attention on Janie.
“Maybe there is one thing that might make me feel better. You remember the promise you made, Mommy? About granting me a special wish?”
“Yeah …”
“Well I know what I want to ask for … I want to invite Michael here for my birthday.”
“I don’t know, Siri. This idea worries me. We still don’t have our permanent resident status. Our interview is in two, three weeks. Would you be willing to wait until then?”
“My birthday is next week. Please, Mommy. You promised.”
Janie catches my eye, but I’m not sure how to respond.
“I’m going to have to think about this. Discuss it with Daddy. I want to say yes, but … Let’s sleep on it, OK? I’ll give you an answer in the morning.”
I watch Siri pick at her food. Every so often she steals a quick glance in my direction. Like she’s trying to figure something out. Maybe whether I’ll veto her request to see Michael. Or what happened between me and Gabriel. Or maybe something else. Like who I really am, this man who’s her father. Who’s always been gentle with her. Who hates violence and even competitive sports. But who somehow, some way, managed to scare the shit out of her very tough friend.
I can see Janie wondering the same thing. She’s watching me as I do the supper dishes. Bubbling with impatience to ask me things. I wash the dishes slowly, trying to think it through. It’s probably driving her crazy how slowly I’m washing. I try to go faster. End up breaking a glass and cutting myself. I keep washing anyway. I’m almost done.
“Shit, Laek. Stop. You’re bleeding on the silverware. I’ll finish up. Go take care of your hand and I’ll meet you in the bedroom.”
When Janie comes in, I’m sitting up in bed in my shorts, the cut cleaned and bandaged, teeth brushed, face washed. And still unsure what we should do.
“So what happened with Gabriel?” she asks me.
“I waited for him. We talked. I explained that his behaviour was unacceptable.”
“Uh huh. And?”
“And what?”
“Laek, you know what I’m asking you. Don’t make me spell it out.”
“I was somewhat forceful in my explanations, if that’s what you want to know.”
“What did you do?”
I shrug.
“Did you hit him?”
“No, I didn’t hit him.”
Janie lets out a sigh of relief. “I didn’t think you’d do that, but even so … Do you think you might have gone too far?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“It could be you’re identifying too much with the situation.”
“You mean because he reminds me of myself at that age?”
“No. I wasn’t thinking that at all. Kind of the opposite, actually. That you were identifying with Siri.”
“Oh.”
“But the thing is, you and Siri, your experiences … They’re very different. Thankfully.”
“Yeah. Thankfully. But still. I don’t know.”
“I don’t know either. I wasn’t there. But I trust your judgment.”
Hearing Janie say these words makes me feel lighter. “Hey, come here.” I pull her in close, her hair tickling my bare chest.
“Aren’t you cold that way?”
“No. Listen, Janie, what do you think we should do about Siri’s request?”
“I don’t know. I’m ambivalent. I feel like I promised, and I’d hate to let her down. On the other hand, I’m nervous, even about him coming here. But I’m not sure that’s totally rational.”
I’m also nervous about the idea. Extremely uneasy. I close my eyes for a minute. Janie’s hair feels soft on my skin. I’m thinking about Siri, and suddenly I’m remembering a moment with her, when she was just an infant. It was three in the morning. Siri was lying on my bare chest. I was in the living room of our two-room Brooklyn apartment, Janie sleeping in the bedroom, ragged and desperate with exhaustion. Siri was never a good sleeper. Not as a baby, and not now either. I suppose it didn’t help that Janie and I both immediately sprang to her side the moment she made even the smallest murmur. I was all of twenty years old at the time. Barely grown up myself. I had no clue how to care for an infant.
I remember the warmth of Siri’s soft, round, baby head lying against me. Her sweet smell. Her little fists pushing against my chest. I had no milk for her, no breasts. She’d nursed not more than half an hour earlier. Could she really be hungry again? At the time, I wore my hair long, a section on the right side plaited into a thin braid. Siri grabbed hold of it and tugged. Was she mad at me for not having milk? She tugged again, harder. And started laughing. Her laugh was like warm sunlight in late autumn. My sweet child. She wasn’t hungry at all. She just wanted to play.
What I wouldn’t give to hear that laugh right now. To see her smile.
“Let’s do it, Janie. Let’s just say yes. It’s her birthday and … I want to make her happy.”
“OK. Good. Do you think she’s still awake? I can’t wait to tell her.”
“Yeah, probably. She’s never been a big one for sleeping.”
“Reminds me of someone. Do you want to come with me to give her the good news?”
“No. You go. You were the one who promised her. And anyway, I think she’s pretty mad at me. I don’t want to spoil the mood.”
Janie walks down the hall to Siri’s bedroom. I close my eyes to better picture my daughter’s smile.
FORTY-SEVEN
Siri
Michael beams me when they’re outside the building. I whip open the apartment door. As soon as I see them, I run down the hallway and throw my arms around Michael, dancing him around in a circle. “I can’t believe you guys are here! I can’t believe it!”
Mommy’s waiting for us with the door held open. She leans over to kiss Rebecca on both cheeks, but Rebecca moves back like she’s surprised. I guess Mommy forgot that this isn’t how people say hello in New York.
“Did you have trouble finding our place?” Mommy asks.
“With all the French, it wasn’t easy. But once we found the building, we were able to come right up. There’s no security at all. Doesn’t that worry you, Janie?” Rebecca asks.
“No. Why should it?”
“You know they don’t care about that, Rebecca. Even in Brooklyn, they didn’t live in a gated community,” David says.
“Well, bienvenue. Tha
t means welcome. Excuse the mess, I’d expected you a little later. You must have made good time. Any problems at the border?”
Mommy steps aside to let them in, but they just stay in the doorway. I want to grab Michael and bring him into my room, but Rebecca has her hand on his shoulder like she doesn’t even want him to take off his coat.
“Is Laek home?” David asks, looking around.
“No. He’s doing the late shift at work today. And Simon’s at a friend’s. Are you hungry?”
“We’re tired from the drive. We were thinking of just eating at the hotel and then relaxing. But maybe Siri would like to come with us. The hotel has a pool on the roof,” Rebecca adds, turning to me. “Would you like to go swimming?”
“That would be great! Could I, Mommy?”
“Yeah, I guess so. You sure you don’t want to hang out a little, Rebecca? David? I was going to put out some wine and cheese. Or I could give you a tour of the city.”
“We don’t want to put you to any trouble,” Rebecca says. “I know your budget is tight. You, back in school after being a lawyer all these years and Laek working these weird hours.”
Mommy looks like she wants to argue, but then shrugs. “Whatever Siri wants. But sweetheart, I’m not sure your bathing suit still fits you. You’ve grown since last summer.”
I blush, thinking about where I’ve actually grown. My mom can be so embarrassing!
“That’s no problem,” Rebecca says. “We’ll just pick up a new one for her.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Mommy replies.
“It’s no trouble. It’s her birthday, after all.”
After swimming, we go to a restaurant for supper. Michael and his parents get confused because they think “entrée” means main course instead of appetizer. I forgot I used to think that too. But of course an entrée being an appetizer makes more sense: like entering the meal. I try to explain this, but Rebecca gets all annoyed. I guess they’re tired. Anyhow, Michael likes that I know these things. He whispers into my ear, “You’re so sophisticated now. Like a French girl.”