Our Lady of 121st Street
Page 15
ANGEL: Not exactly.
MARY JANE: Then that’s a dumb lie! Tell me a smart lie.
ANGEL: Like what?
MARY JANE: My father drank Jameson’s.
ANGEL: Dass a lie?
MARY JANE: He drank Bushmills. But it’s a smart lie because my father was a first-generation Irish Catholic who supported the I.R.A., and Bushmills is known as a Protestant whiskey because it comes from the North. So it would be logical to assume that he wouldn’t be caught dead drinking a Protestant whiskey, even though he did. That’s a lie built on truth. That’s why it’s a good lie. Because it’s true. Now tell me a true lie, Angel.
ANGEL: Ah-aight … I tried ta kill Reverend Kim that night.
MARY JANE: What?
ANGEL: I mean, it’s a lie ’cuz I didn’t try ta kill him, but it’s true cuz …
MARY JANE: Because what?
ANGEL: It’s true ’cuz … ’cuz it kinda makes sense that I might have wanted to, right?
MARY JANE: I’m the D.A., you’re you: “Did you shoot Reverend Kim?”
ANGEL: No.
MARY JANE: Look me in the eye when you say it. “Did you shoot him?”
ANGEL: No.
MARY JANE: You’re lying!
ANGEL: Whaddya want me to do, say yes?
MARY JANE: I want you to believe what you’re saying.
ANGEL: But it ain’t true.
MARY JANE: Make it true! “Did you shoot him?”
ANGEL: No.
MARY JANE: Why can you say that?
ANGEL: I don’t know.
MARY JANE: Think about it.
ANGEL: ’Cuz … I ain’t like that?
MARY JANE: Why not?
ANGEL: It ain’t in me.
MARY JANE: Why not?
ANGEL: I’m not, you knows
MARY JANE: No I don’t. You’re not what?
ANGEL: I’m like, guns scare me.
MARY JANE: Guns scare everyone.
ANGEL: Nah, I mean, like, holding one.
MARY JANE: Why’s that?
ANGEL: ‘Cuz a somethin’ that happened once—
MARY JANE: So it would make sense to you that you would never hold a gun again?
ANGEL: Yeah.
MARY JANE: Okay. “Did you bring a gun to the church that night?”
ANGEL: Nah.
MARY JANE: Say no.
ANGEL: No.
MARY JANE: Good. Now why would it make sense to you that you wouldn’t shoot Reverend Kim?
ANGEL: ’Cuz it’s wrong?
MARY JANE: What’s wrong?
ANGEL: Shootin’ someone.
MARY JANE: Fair enough. “Did you shoot Reverend Kim?”
ANGEL: No.
MARY JANE: “You shot him, didn’t you?”
ANGEL: No.
MARY JANE: “Did you ever think about hurting Reverend Kim?”
ANGEL: No.
MARY JANE: Say yes to that.
ANGEL: Why?
MARY JANE: Because you only have to lie twice: when he asks you if you had a gun on you, and when he asks you if you shot Kim. Everything else, tell the truth.
ANGEL: It won’t make me look bad?
MARY JANE: It will make you look truthful. The jury wants to acquit you, Angel. They just need to hear you say sincerely and believably that you didn’t do it, and they will clear you.
ANGEL: And they could do that?
MARY JANE: It’s called jury annulment. Even if it was totally obvious that you did it, the jury can refuse to convict, and that’s it. End of story.
ANGEL: And no one can say shit?
MARY JANE: No one.
ANGEL: Even though it’s wrong?
MARY JANE: You think what you did is wrong?
ANGEL: You mean, technically?
MARY JANE: Last month you didn’t think you did anything wrong!
ANGEL: I ain’t sayin’ it’s wrong, but, technically, the truth is: I shot him, right? Technically, thass kinda wrong, isn’t it?
MARY JANE: What are you saying, Angel?
ANGEL: I mean, what do you think about it?
MARY JANE: It doesn’t matter what I think.
ANGEL: What if I said that it mattered to me?
MARY JANE: Do you wanna stop the trial, plead guilty?
ANGEL: I wanna know what you think.
MARY JANE: Our jury, Angel, they want to acquit you because it’s right, not because it’s wrong. They don’t think you deserve “Life” or anything close to it. No one blames you for Reverend Kim’s death except the State of New York! And what is that? It’s an institution! It’s a set of rules set up to apply to each and every circumstance, as if they’re all the same. They are not all the same. The jury knows that. And they will clear you of all charges, from murder on down, because they understand what happened here beyond the “technicalities” and they empathize. Not because of your dazzling smile, but because, under the same circumstances as you, they might have done the same damn thing themselves. You made a statement, Angel. And they are going to back that statement up. Your testimony will supply reasonable doubt. And that’s all they want. And that’s what I think. Make sense?
ANGEL: Huh?
MARY JANE: Does it make sense to you?
ANGEL: Oh … Yeah … Yeah.
MARY JANE: Are you sure?
ANGEL: I was juss—
MARY JANE: Just what?
ANGEL: Thinking.
MARY JANE: About what?
ANGEL: Joey.
MARY JANE: Oh.
ANGEL: We useta, me and Joey, we useta sneak out our house on Sunday nights, jump the turnstiles. And we would hop down onto the subway tracks, walk through the tunnels, lookin’ for shit, makin’ adventures, playin’ like we was G.I. Joes … Pick up a empty can a Hawaiian Punch or some ol’ beer bottle for fake walkie-talkies, and we’d have our snow boots on so we could be astronauts. And we would pretend we were the last two survivors on earth and that we came from the future … stupid … the future … like in that Planet of the Apes movie with the two guys? Only we had no weapons, juss chocolate milk. And we’d get so lost in our games and our discoveries and our made-up stories … so many stories: lookin’ for ghosts, lookin’ for apes, lookin’ for fortunes, runnin’ from rats, talkin’ ’bout girls, talkin’ bout Thelma from Good Times, talkin’ ’bout daydreams, talkin’ ‘bout Bruce Lee versus Evel Knievel, talkin’ in words that wasn’t even words … and … and it would always surprise us when we saw the lights … even though we could feel the train coming, but it was the lights. The closer those lights came, rumble of the tracks, sound a the conductor’s horn blarin’ at us, we’d get so excited we’d freeze—two seconds of freezin’ cold … hypnotized … holdin’ hands, waitin’, waitin’, then: Bang! We’d jump off the rails, hug the wall, climb back up the platform, start runnin’—runnin—tearin’ ass clear across town back to Riverside or Cherry Park. One time … one particular time, when we was holdin’ hands right before we jumped off the rails, somethin’ happened, and we couldn’t let go, couldn’t untangle ourself from each other, and we were inside that light, and … we both saw skeletons and radiation, and we was paralyzed in a way that I juss can’t explain, till somethin’ blew us apart, juss blew us, and we landed safe. We didn’t move for a long time. We was cryin’, and Joey ripped his brother’s coat … We wasn’t speakin’ till we got to our block and Joey said that it was the light that ripped us apart and saved our lives … Joey said, “Jesus hopped the A train to see us safe to bed.”
MARY JANE: Do you believe that?
ANGEL: We was juss kids.
MARY JANE: Yeah … Well, you’re on an A train right now, Angel, and if there’s a Jesus on board it’s me.
ANGEL: I know.
MARY JANE: D.A. asks you a question?
ANGEL: Pause five seconds.
MARY JANE: And then?
ANGEL: Answer it.
MARY JANE: How?
ANGEL: “Yes,” “No,” “I don’t know.”
MARY JA
NE: And then?
ANGEL: Stop talking.
MARY JANE: Because?
ANGEL: He gonna try ta fuck me up.
MARY JANE: If you want to explain something?
ANGEL: You’ll ask me in the redirect.
MARY JANE: Did you bring a gun to the church?
ANGEL: No.
MARY JANE: Did you shoot Reverend Kim?
ANGEL: No.
MARY JANE: Did you ever want to hurt him?
ANGEL: Yes.
MARY JANE: What’s God’s plan for you?
ANGEL: Chicken wings and beer.
Scene 3: Charlie D‘Amico speaks.
D’AMICO: Lucius Jenkins was executed by the state of Florida on June third … Me and the wife, Mary, we took a plane down to Tallahassee to be there for Lou since he didn’t really have nobody except a sister in East St. Louis who couldn’t attend because of somethin’ or other. I didn’t get to talk to Lou or nothin’, we were just permitted to witness the death … It was quick. The thing that freaked me out the most was they had this clock on the wall in the room where Lucius was. It was hangin’ right above the hospital gurney and it said “Standard” on it, juss like the clocks we had at Rikers. I kept starin’ at that clock and at the little red hand goin’ around marking the minutes and the big black hand clickin’ them off. I felt like I could hear it clickin’ through the Plexiglas. I kept thinkin’ how I’d stare at that same clock at work wanting it to move faster, and now here I was in Florida wishin’ it could move slower or just stop. I hated that clock mostly ’cuz I felt it was fuckin’ redundant … When they brought Lou in, he was silent. He didn’t ever say nuthin’, which surprised me. The only thing he said was: They asked him if he had a final statement to make and he said, “No, sir.” He only looked out at us once. He looked right at me and I tried ta smile but it was like he didn’t recognize me, and for like a split second I was pissed; I was thinkin’, “This trip cost us like a thousand bucks, at least he could acknowledge our fuckin’ presence, ya know?” It’s crazy, but that’s really what I thought. My wife, Mary, had just the right expression on her face though, and she cried real real quietly, so as not to upset the families or take away from the thing that was happenin’ right in front of us … I tried real hard to figure out what he was feelin’ or thinkin’, but it was real hard to tell from lookin’ at him. It almost looked as if he wasn’t feelin’ nuthin’; and I thought I knew him too well to believe that that could really be the case, but … I was wrong. It turns out Lucius must of found himself another Oreo cookie man, ’cuz when the coroner did a toxicology on him, they found substantial traces of heroin and cocaine in the bloodstream. Lucius died high as a kite. When it was over, me and Mary went to this diner across the street from our motel that advertised itself as having “Tallahassee’s Finest Southern Fried Chicken.” We ordered two plates, and when the waitress brought it over, we got all excited ’cuz it looked so big and juicy and plump, but when I stuck my fork into this big plump fried chicken, it deflated like a balloon. We got the check, went back to the motel, ordered a pizza from Domino’s, called my sister-in-law so we could talk to the kids. When we got off the phone, Mary kissed me—iike she really meant it. I kissed her back, and we went to bed and made love for the first time in six months. When the pizza guy came, we pretended we weren’t there … I could tell you that Lucius Jenkins helped me stop drinkin’, ’cuz he did, that he convinced me to look into startin’ a pool-cleaning business wit’ my brother-in-law, which we also did, and that he got me fired off my job which turned out to be a huge blessin’ in disguise; and that stuff is all important and true, but really, I only knew the guy for three months, which ain’t a lot, and if someone were ta say that he just used me or whatever, that he was a lunatic, I prolly couldn’t argue back much. Ask me about drinkin’ and jails, I’ll tell ya a lot. Ask me about pool cleanin’, I’ll take my chances against anybody. Ask me about Lucius Jenkins, there ain’t a hell of a lot I can say’cuz there ain’t a hell of a lot I know. All I really know about Lucius Jenkins is that I liked him.
Scene 4: The yard, midstream.
ANGEL: Yo, why ya gotta be a little bitch for? C’mon, man! Lucius … Yo, Lucius … You stupid, man. You actin’ tike—you know who you actin’ like? You actin’ like a little fuckin’ kid! Silent treatment … Thass baby shit! I had a friend, he useta do the same shit. He be mad at me, he wouldn’t say nuthin’, juss be silent like a mummy. You a mummy, man? Mofuckin’ King Tut? Stupid, man … Tryin’ ta punish me? Ain’t I punished enough already? Aaight, fuck you too! I ain’t never talkin’ to you again, ever, dass it! Ain’t nuttin’ interesting ’bout you anyway! You boring!
(Pause)
ANGEL: I’m leavin’ here soon anyway. Coupla more days, you ain’t never gonna see this face again! Never! Gonna get some chicken wings and beer! Dat shit gonna taste good too! Ice cold beer, gonna burn my throat on the way down, mofuckin’ Heineken! Nice flamin’ hot wing—gonna dip dat shit in the bleu cheese, shit gonna be the shit! Gonna go to the bar: fuckin’ Cuba Libre! Gonna get my lawyer drunk, make love in the bathroom standin’ up! Gonna bring juror number one too, mofuckin’ orgy!! Gonna leave the bathroom, tell the waitress, Cuba Libres everywhere! Libre, Mothahfuckah!! Whatchu think ’bout dat?!
(Pause)
ANGEL: Whatever I wanna do, I’m a double do dat shit! You like movies? I ain’t talkin’ ’bout no Charlton Heston Moses bullshit, I’m talkin’ ’bout mothahfuckin’ real movies! I’m a go to a spot, pick up a big-ass bag a some proper smoke, roll the most gigantic El you ever fuckin’ seen, blaze that shit up till it’s ash, and go see every fuckin’ movie out there! Tom Cruise, Al Pacino, Jackie Chan: I’m a see all dat! I’m a get a popcorn so big, that shit gonna look like a two-story building! I’m a get a Coca-Cola—that shit gonna be refreshing!
VALDEZ: Eight minutes!
ANGEL: Ain’t never gonna hear that voice again neither! I’m a be Honolulu, Hawaii, doin’ the dog paddle! I’m a be back ta school, meet my wife—Love at First Sight—buy a carpet and a toaster! I’m a do all a that! You say sumpthin’, man? Whatchu said? Even if you ain’t said nuttin’, I know you thinkin’ some shit! Thinkin’ some stupid shit … Whatchu thinkin’? I know what you thinkin’. C’mon, say it. C’mon, mothahfuckah, talk! Yo, whatsamatter, you afraid you ain’t got nuthin’ ta say? Afraid I’ll knock your nonsense right out the fuckin’ park?! Whatchu gotta say?!
(Pause)
ANGEL: Fine! Be like that!
(Pause)
LUCIUS: Smell like rain.
ANGEL: What?
LUCIUS: I say, it smell like rain.
VALDEZ: Seven minutes!
ANGEL: (To VALDEZ) It ain’t been no fifty-three minutes, Valdez!