by James Frey
He walked over towards Momma’s room. I told him not to go in there. He asked where my mother was and I told him she was in the hospital. He asked why and I told him she had some cancer that was killing her. He said I’m sorry and he reached for the door and I told him it was a private place and he shouldn’t be going in there. He opened the door and he stepped into the room.
I didn’t know what to do. If I should be stopping him or if he was gonna be taking my shit or if he was just fucking crazy. I walked to the door. My shit was on my momma’s dresser, where I always left it. Ben was in the bathroom, turning on the sink and starting to wash his face. I could see him doing it real soft because he was all beat to shit. When he put some water in his mouth and spit it out, everything was red. When he took off his shirt, he was so skinny I could see all his ribs and veins and his whole body was covered with bruises, all purple and black, like someone went at him with a baseball bat. He looked over at me standing near the dresser, where I had me a vial with one rock I was trying to save and a pipe and torch. He smiled and said it’s fine, Mariaangeles, I will not judge you. After he was done with his cleaning, he come back into the room and took off his pants and layed down on the bed and closed his eyes. He didn’t do no moving at all.
He slept for two or three days. I kept checking on him ’cause he was looking like he was dead. Only time I saw him moving was a few times I came in and his eyes was open a little and he was laying on his back twitching and shaking and doing some kind of grunting, but it was real soft like a baby. I started getting high in my room and just leaving him be. I knew he’d be waking up or dying at some time or another, and I thought either way it happened he’d be outta my apartment.
Thursdays sometimes I’d work a double shift. All the white boys from Manhattan would come up ’cause it was right before the weekend so they could get drunk but they could tell their wives and girlfriends that they was out for business dinners. They’d start rolling in right after lunch, looking for black girls, all of them thinking we was gonna fuck them. After the shift I’d stay and get real fucked up, smoking just to forget the day, and then I’d be coming home. I’d have my neighbor watch Mercedes and I’d pay her and then she’d put her to bed and lock the door. I told her about Ben being sleeping in Momma’s room and told her to pay him no mind.
This shift was worse than most of ’em, and they was all bad. Had a man who knew the manager and was old friends, some rich white man wearing a suit and living in a big house in Connecticut or someplace. The manager gave him a private room for free without any champagne tip, and I had to go back there, wasn’t no choice in it for me. Man was mean and cheap and I had to do everything he wanted. Sucked his dick, let him fuck me, putting his fingers where they didn’t belong. Went on for four hours, and when he finally left there wasn’t nothing to do but go out and hustle and try to make up for the money I didn’t make while I was with him. I went into the back room three more times. Let them men do whatever they wanted and got fucking paid for it. When I was done, I left and found a quiet place behind a dumpster and spent the next six hours getting fucking high.
I came home knowing Mercedes was going to be crying, like she always was when she was hungry and alone too long. I wasn’t in no mood for it either. Just wanted to drink me some water and go to sleep. When I put the key in the door, I could hear some laughing. I didn’t know what the fuck was going on. I opened the door and went inside, and it wasn’t even looking like my apartment. Whole place had been cleaned. Like it was all shining. There was some spaghetti cooking in the kitchen. And Ben and Mercedes was both all cleaned up too, and they was standing in the middle of the living room, laughing and dancing together. Ben looked over at me and smiled.
Welcome home, Mariaangeles.
What the fuck is going on here?
I’m teaching Mercedes to dance.
She know how to dance already. I taught her how to dance.
Then I’m teaching her to laugh.
She know how to do that too.
No, she doesn’t.
And what the fuck happened to my apartment?
Your life is going to change, Mariaangeles.
I don’t want it to change.
Yes, you do.
No, I don’t.
Yes, you do.
He walked over to me, holding Mercedes’ hand. I wasn’t sure what to do. He was just smiling at me. And my little girl was smiling at me, smiling real wide. I hadn’t seen her smile like that in a long time. In a long long time. Broke my fucking heart. And nothing in the world more beautiful than a child’s smile. And there was my little girl, smiling all wide at a mother that didn’t deserve nothing like that. A mother that was feeling like she didn’t even deserve to be living this life that she had been given. A life she know now can be something she want, so full of moments like the smile of a beautiful child. Ben was right, even though I didn’t want him to be right. Life was going to change.
As they walked to me, Ben leaned over and whispered something in Mercedes’ ear. She smiled and went running right up on me, and I bent over and took her in my arms and gave her a big hug, a big hug like I didn’t ever give anybody, not even her. And as I was holding her, she said I love you, Mommy. And I said I love you, baby, and even though I didn’t want to be doing it, I started crying. And then Ben came over and put his skinny-ass arms around both of us. And he said I love you, Mariaangeles. And for the first time in my life, when a man said I love you, I believed it. I believed it with my whole heart. And he just stood there, holding me, while I held my daughter and I cried.
When we stopped hugging, Ben walked me to my bedroom and told me to get cleaned up and get ready for lunch. I took a shower and stayed in there a long time, thinking ’bout my night, thinking about what Mercedes made me feel. When I come out, I’m wearing my best sweat suit and the table is set all nice as it can be and there’s spaghetti on plates and my pipe and three vials of rock I had are sitting next to my plate. Ben and Mercedes are sitting waiting for me. I look at the pipe and the vials and look at Ben. Why you putting that out like that?
Is there a reason you don’t want it out?
I sat down and put everything in my pocket.
My daughter don’t need to be seeing that.
Why?
You a fucking fool, man. Why you think?
You think she doesn’t know.
She ain’t old enough to know nothing.
If you say so.
I do.
You ashamed of it?
What do you think?
That you should stop.
You don’t know shit, white boy.
He smiled and didn’t say nothing. We started eating. He was helping Mercedes using her fork. I just watched her, and watching him with her made me hate myself more, knowing what I had in my pocket. I could feel it there. Heavy and bulging out. I was always pretending Mercedes thought I was just a regular momma. That our life was a regular life. Or at least regular for where we was living, for where we was from. I was just another girl with a kid trying to do my best and struggling. And in a way it was that way. But I was also knowing it was wrong. Knowing I could do better. Even in the way that we was.
We finished our lunch and Ben told Mercedes it was time for her to go napping and he took her into Momma’s room. I sat at the table and thought about what was in my pocket ’cause it’s all I wanted even though it was hurting to think about it and I heard Ben singing some kind of lullaby to Mercedes. It made me remember when I used to sing to her, before I was working at the club, before Alberto got arrested, before Momma got sick. When he was finished, he closed the door and came out. I was still sitting and he sat down across and just stared at me. His eyes was looking different from when I used to know him. More black. Blackest things I ever saw. And he had been healing when he was sleeping. The bruising on his face was almost gone and his cuts was healing good. It made the scars stick out more. Made me be seeing them more. Made me really be understanding how much he changed. He mu
st have been thirty or forty pounds skinnier. And he was whiter. Most white people I don’t notice. They all be looking like they got the same skin. Just white. Ben was white white. Paper white. And them scars was even whiter. Like glossy paint over regular paint. And he just stared at me. Them black eyes calming me down so I could actually be feeling my heart slowing down. And when I was real calm, and not even wanting to smoke no more, I spoke. What happened to you, Ben?
I changed.
No shit there. What happened?
It doesn’t matter.
Does to me.
What matters is what I have become.
What’s that?
Someone who loves you.
You don’t know me well enough to love me.
One must know oneself to love, not know others.
You sound like a preacher.
I’m not.
You gonna try to save me?
You’re going to save you.
How I’m going to do that?
Give me your pipe, your drugs.
What you gonna do with them?
Put them on the table.
They’re mine.
Yes.
I need them.
No.
I do.
Why?
Because I fucking do.
Put them on the table. I’m going to show you something.
You try to use them and I’ll fuck you up.
He smiled, stared at me, waited. If I saw him on the street, I’d think he was a crackhead for fucking real. But sitting with him and talking to him, I didn’t think it. I didn’t have no reason to trust him, ’cept how he was looking at me, but I did. Trusted him like I had never trusted no man or no white person ever. So I took my shit outta my pocket and put it on the table. Ben didn’t even look at it. Just kept looking at me. And then he stood up and walked around the table and leaned over and started kissing me. Real slow at first, real light, just brushing his lips right against mine. And it felt good, felt right. So we started kissing more, using our lips like we was meaning it, using our tongues. Kissing like we meant it, like we was in love. And he lifted me outta that chair, like I weighed nothing. And he took off my clothes. And he put me on the table. And he licked me, and sucked me, and fucked me till I couldn’t see straight. Lying right next to my drugs. He showed me how to get high. He showed me what it felt like to feel good. He fucked me, and he loved me, and when he came inside me, it fulfilled more than any person, school, church, book, or God had in my life. He whispered I love you in my ear and he came inside me and it felt like I was right inside. It felt like what it was supposed to feel like to be believing in all those other things.
When we was finished that first time, he stayed inside me a long time. Just stayed inside and kissed me and held me. And then he picked me up, still inside me, and carried me to bed. And he put me down on that bed with his arms around me and we went to sleep. I didn’t think about being poor. I didn’t think about what I was doing for money. I didn’t think about my brother rotting in a fucking cell. About my mother dying in a fucking hospital where nobody cared. About being black in a country where it means I ain’t got no chance. About my daughter who wasn’t gonna have no chance either. About a life stretching out in front of me where it never gets to be any better. The feeling of arms around me, of love in my heart, it was more powerful than any of the negativity I knew was existing in the world for me. That feeling of love killed it all.
When I woke up, he was gone. I went in to be looking in on Mercedes and she was still sleeping. I was supposed to be working so I started getting ready. Taking me a shower and doing my makeup in the bathroom. When I went out to the kitchen, my shit was still there on the table. Made me fucking sick to see it there, made me sick to be thinking that’s what I’d been doing for the last year. Made me sick to be thinking why I’d been doing it and why I was just getting ready. For money. For money that didn’t make a difference. Didn’t get me or my daughter out of anywhere or anything. Didn’t change how I felt in my heart or how I was feeling when I looked in the mirror. Was just something I could hold in my hand. Money don’t mean nothing when your heart is empty.
So I picked that shit up and threw it out the window. Figured some crackhead would find it and have a surprise, there was enough of ’em around. And I didn’t go to work. Didn’t even bother calling. They wasn’t gonna miss me. They might not have even been noticing I was gone. Was gonna be easy to find another girl, ’cause they always too many out there willing to throw it around for the money. I ain’t judging, ’cause I did it. It’s the way of the world. You use what you got, and that’s all that too many women got.
I waited for Ben. Mercedes woke up and I got her and gave her a big long hug. We went out and started playing in the living room, singing songs and tickling. I started getting a little sick, was starting to realize I might be needing the crack I throwed out. I went over to the window and looked down and it was still there. Was some kind of miracle it hadn’t been picked up. I know in the Bible they be saying miracles is withering some motherfucking fig tree or some shit, but in the world I live in, the real fucking world, a miracle is a vial of crack lying on the ground in an American housing project unclaimed for more than three fucking minutes. But there it was. Tempting me. Calling to me. Not even calling, it was screaming at me. I could hear Mercedes behind me. I started telling myself love stronger than drugs, stronger than anything, love stronger, but telling ain’t always believing. You can tell yourself anything you want, but until you believe what you’re telling yourself, you’re wasting words. I was ready to go down there. Ready to go. So I turned and walked towards the door. When I opened it, Ben was sitting on the floor. He smiled. I started talking.
What you doing?
Sitting.
How long you been sitting there?
A while.
Doing what?
Just sitting.
I looked at him. Just sitting there on the floor.
He smiled at me, spoke.
You want to go back inside.
I smiled.
Yeah.
May I come in?
Yeah.
He stood up and followed me back inside. We played with Mercedes for a long time, singing and playing with her toys, and the whole time I was wanting to smoke. Dinner come around and Ben serve us more spaghetti. We eat at the table. When we finished I’m feeling really sick, shaking, wanting to jump out the fucking window. Ben have me put Mercedes to sleep and when I’m done I come out and he waiting for me. He take me to my room and lay me down and spend the rest of the night licking and sucking and fucking. And every time I got to feeling sick he do it again, till I finally fall asleep.
And that’s the way it stay for a few days, maybe a week. Ben go out in the morning while I sleep and find food somewhere. When I wake up he with Mercedes, and whenever she nap or sleep or whenever I feel sick he take me in the bedroom or on the floor or the table. And he was always telling me he love me. That I’m beautiful. That I can live however I want to live. That life can be beautiful. That Mercedes love me and I can be a good momma. And I stop hearing it. I start believing it.
And then one day I wake up and know. Know that I’m okay and going to be good, or as good as I can be where I’m at. And I tell Ben and he smile. And I stop thinking just about me and ask him more about why he here with me. He tell me about living in the tunnels and being arrested and he tell me how he leave his family. And how he skipped on his bail. He tell me about his being able to speak to God. He tell me that he know things about the world, and that he know the world going to end if we don’t change it. That man is sick. That the leaders of the world killing us all. Making us think we progressing while killing us. And it ain’t like there be some big grand plan, they just ignorant. And greedy. And thinking about themselves. And thinking about their Gods. Christians thinking they got God. Muslims thinking they got God. Jews thinking they got God. Everybody thinking God on their side. That God want them to kill and ju
dge and dominate. And all of them wrong. All of them doing what they do in the name of something that don’t exist like that. That fairy tales ruling the world. That God ain’t part of the world that way. That God don’t judge. God don’t give power. That God something beyond the understanding of men or women on earth. That God ain’t giving no gift of eternal life. The gift is the life we got, and when it’s over, it’s fucking over. No Heaven. No parties with relatives and people we love while the angels sing and play harps. No seventy-two virgins waiting for us to teach them how to fuck. No nothing. No God like we believe. Just the end. And all we got in the world is other people. And all we got with them is love. And not love like some dumbass pop song. Love is just taking care of each other, and fucking each other, and letting each other live how we want to be living. And protecting each other from all the shit that life throws us. That comes at us because that’s fucking life, not because some fake silly God is trying to test us, or prepare us for the afterlife, or because he thinks we strong enough to deal with it. Bad shit just happens. Ain’t no reason for it ’cept that it’s life. It ain’t no fucking God. And everything he say making sense to me. Making more sense than everything else I hear in the world. Making more sense than the bullshit politicians and preachers and popes spewing out every day. Making more sense than the bullshit in textbooks and newspapers and on TV news shows. Making more sense than the bullshit laws our government be trying to make us live by. The government that says One Nation Under God, but under what God? The old white man God with a beard who say blacks ain’t got rights, Hispanics ain’t got no rights, women ain’t got rights, gays ain’t got rights, and no one who ain’t like him and believe like him ain’t got no rights. Fuck that. And fuck that God. And fuck all the fools believing in that God. They can come kiss my black ass, ’cause that ain’t no kind of Nation Under God, it’s just fucking bullshit.
