Bobbys voice was quiet, concerned, So what be happenin Mush?
I keep crying, like…sob, you know? I keep sobbing…not loud, not much tears, and Im dizzy, everything is moving a little bit, is not too much, but Im dizzy. So Sol is again hugging me and telling me his hate—Moishe shook his head and moved his hands—Hes telling me a long time but is happening to him worse then me, his wife and 2 daughters were betrayed by a friend, are taken to camp and hes hearing theyre dead—the sounds of the streets and river were a backdrop to their silence, their thoughts, the intensity of their feelings, a simple indication that life was continuing all around them, as it was continuing within them, as they talked about the many deaths some people share, experience—Hes being told he has to be willing to wish that man happy—Bobbys eyes suddenly popped open and bulged, his mouth opening but he remained silent—and so same like me a prisoner is holding him and saying same as to me. Sol is saying he cant…even if he wanted to he cant, and man is saying thats true, but if hes willing to give up the hate something in him will show him how to do it, will do what he cant do—Moishe looked out at the river, allowing the lights, the movement, to push aside the pain of the memories….
Bobby continued shaking his head, still unable to speak, his disbelief and conflict obvious.
In time Bobby stood and leaned on the railing, then turned and looked at Moishe for a moment before speaking, I dont know Mush. I dont think you be lyin to me, I know you be straight bro, but I caint believe that shit…uh uh, no way can I be believin that shit. It be like I dont be doin nothin an the man come up to me an bus open my head, then the moms, an who else, an I supposed to say merry xmas muthafucka, whach you wantin for xmas I can give ya????
Moishe smiled, then grinned and nodded his head, Im not thinking so, but….
As always Moishes smile put a grin on Bobbys face, I dont know where you be comin from, but you do be knowin what it be to be hurtin. Ain no bool shit about that bro, you be knowin about that. But that other shit—shaking his head—no way…uh, uh, no way man….
They remained silent for a few minutes, then Bobby stood straight, adjusted his pants and shirt, What say we be gettin some hot dogs Mush, I be starvin. All this fat mouthin make me hongry—smiling and waiting for Moishe to get up before starting walking in the direction of home.
The next morning Moishe had a strange feeling as he sat at the breakfast table, frowning and confused, until he realized that Bobby usually was finished working out by now, but he could still hear him working with the dumbbells, which meant he still would be using the rowing machine. Moishe wondered, briefly, why he was spending so much time with them today, but soon shrugged it off, telling himself it wasnt important, that he couldnt hurt himself doing this for one day, and also knowing that if he thought about things too long he ended up worrying…no matter what he started thinking about, worry always followed. So he poured himself another cup of coffee, covered another piece of bread with butter and jam, and thought about the previous evening and all the changes of emotions they both experienced. It was an overwhelming thought, so much having happened Moishe could not absorb it all yet. Anyway, he was content to remember the walk home, the peaceful feeling he had which somehow surprised him, and the joy he always felt in watching Bobby devour hot dogs, wham, wham, wham, gone…onions, sauerkraut, red pepper, mustard, wham, wham, wham.
He had long finished the coffee and bread when he heard the shower and knew Bobby would be out in a few minutes so he started cooking the bacon and sausages.
Bobby was quiet while eating and was quiet during the rest of the day. A few times Moishe tried to start a conversation and though he could see Bobby actually tried to talk he was just in a quiet mood so he left him alone. Moishe kept himself busy in his workshop, but became increasingly uncomfortable during the day. He told himself there was nothing to be uncomfortable about, its a day like any day…just a day…and some days people are quiet, thats the way it is. But he had difficulty believing his own reasoning as the day went into night, and then his gut tumbled when Bobby said he was going out much earlier than usual, and checked his jacket several times, tapped his pockets making mental notes and nodding to himself, putting on his gloves and saying so long, See ya in a little while Mush.
Moishe looked at him for a moment, feeling anxiety roiling around inside him.
Moishe started to say something, but suddenly closed his mouth and just nodded and watched him leave. He sat for a long time listening to his heart beat, feeling the turmoil…the fear…trying to deny that he knew what Bobby was going to do tonight, but tried only for a minute, knowing much too well the futility of denying the obvious.
Bobby had gone to bed the previous night feeling fine….Hot dogs, with everything, ice cream and chocolate sauce, all made him feel good. But he woke up with a sense of urgency, he had to get things going. He knew he had to get the first spic tonight if everything worked out. He was going to be cool, he wasnt going to take any chances. He knew what to do and was going to do it. He was going to wait until the set-up was just right and he could call all the shots. He had been checking everything out for a long time and wasnt going to blow it, wasnt about to do anything stupid, he was going to stay cool, but he wasnt going to go for no walk with Moishe tonight. He had to go to the hood. He could feel it in his bones. No more showing his face and splitting. Not now. That part was over. Every other part had been taken care of, and taken care of right. Now he was going to get them on their own turf, the one place they wouldnt be expecting him. They knew he never be fool enough to hit them on their turf so thats what he was going to do.
He walked fast enough to keep warm, but not too fast to tire him. There was a cold breeze and he wished he had worn the scarf, but knew that would be crazy, you cant be putting a noose around your neck like that, he was no fool. As always, he kept to the shadows when he got to the hood and went to the roof of a 4 story building to watch what was happening. One of those spics always walked down this street past a very narrow alley. He was sure that would be the perfect place to get him…if there was no one around. It was getting colder and fewer and fewer people were on the streets, staying in the bars, candy stores, coffee shops, wherever it was warm. Bobby studied the streets, the movement of traffic, people, checking out his feelings about what was happening. He went down to the street and went south, then west to a place he knew there was a fence he could climb and work his way to the alley by the bar. He stood in the shadow feeling something alive within him, feeling alert, feeling the piece of brick in his hand, knowing it seemed crazy to be here with just a brick in his hand and a knife in his pocket, but that was why he was sure it would work…at least once. And he checked this out a hundred times and that one dude walked by here a couple of times a night, he was always walking up and down this block, and he always came walking west, then south down past the alley and Bobby knew all he had to do was wait and sometime, some night, he would walk right past him, it sure was getting cold just standing there but Bobby was willing to wait forever to get those muthafuckas, all he had to do was wait and keep his head clear and if it got too cold and he got fuzzy hed wait until another night, but tonight he was waiting, right now, breathing slow, staying aware of his breathing like Moishe showed him, moving his toes around in his sneakers as much as possible so he will always be aware of them and not suddenly find out theyre too cold to move when he was face to face with his enemy…reviewing his plan in his mind from time to time, doing everything Moishe showed him to concentrate, to be aware of what he was doing, reminding himself of what he already knew and he knew these streets just as good as any one and he kept his eyes wide his mind alert, reminding himself that his eyes were accustomed to the dark and he could see the alley clearly, but someone walking down the street would only see a narrow wall of blackness and hed be invisible to them, so he stayed in the shadows knowing he was secure and waiting…waiting….
and then he saw him crossing the street…alone…and he started counting the guys steps as h
e squeezed the brick tighter, checking out his hands and feet, rotating his shoulders, reassuring himself that every part of his body was working properly, reminding himself that he had been working out all these months and was stronger than ever, being aware of his breathing, making sure he didnt allow himself to hold his breath, but to continue to breathe normally, quietly, watching him cross the street and suddenly was out of sight as he reached Bobbys side of the street, and Bobby continued counting steps, focusing his eyes on the first spot by the curb that was visible from where he stood, knowing that the bars light would cast the guys shadow when he was exactly 3 steps from Bobby and that would be the signal for Bobby to stagger out of the alley and pretend to stumble and fall onto the guy and he continued counting and at exactly the anticipated second he saw the shadow and staggered from the alley and bumped into the guy and before he could say, Hey, Bobby had rolled him along the wall into the alley and hit him as hard as he could between the shoulder blades with the brick, and the guy let out a low grunt like air suddenly leaving a container and Bobby hit him again with all his strength, wanting to scream in his face, wanting to call him every kind of muthafucka he could think of, wanting to rip him apart, but kept his mouth closed, silent, and hit him a third time, the thud of the brick the sweetest music Bobby had ever heard and with each smashing of the brick into his back he felt him crumble more and more and Bobby felt incredible strength and excitement surging through him, knowing how right he had been that if he hit the muthafucka right in that spot hard enough he couldnt make a sound, and the prick sagged like dirty rags to his knees and then to the ground, making strange, gurgling sounds, sounding like he was dying, almost silently gasping for air, and Bobby quickly rolled him behind the el-shaped corner completely out of sight of not only the street but anyone in the alley, and he yanked him by the hair and put his knee in the middle of his back and banged his face into the cold, filthy ground…then again and again, wanting to continue to keep smashing the muthafuckas face into the concrete…but reminded himself of what Moishe said about being aware of what he was doing and not let the blood pounding in his head and the excitement in his body make him forget his plan so he quickly felt the guys pockets and found his knife and put his knee in the guys back and held his arm by the wrist and pressed his hand against a block of wood and shoved his face against the ground with his knee as he thrust the knife through his hand into the wood, then pounded it to the hilt with the brick, keeping his knee on the back of the guys neck, grinding as much as possible, continually reminding himself what Moishe had said about breathing and being aware so he didnt get drunk on what he was doing and maybe have some dude come up behind him without him knowing it, and when he finished hammering the knife into the wood he took his own knife out and grabbed the guy by the hair and showed him the blade and the guy tried to speak but Bobby had his head pulled back at such an extreme angle he was unable to speak and Bobby stared at him for a moment, his head back and to the side as much as possible, eyes staring, spittle dribbling from his mouth and Bobby let his hate get a little out of hand and slowly passed the blade under the guys nose and briefly thought of slowly slicing his nose off, and then cutting his eyes out and…Bobby quickly took a slow, deep breath, then exhaled slowly reminding himself where he was and what he was doing, then leaned over and put his mouth next to the guys ear, Jus so you be knowin, Im the nigga you be whippin with the chain…I be the nigga you doan like…I be the nigga you be killin Maria cause of. I hope you be rememberin me cause I aint never forgettin you muthafucka…you be hearin me? You be killin Maria you muthafucka…Bobby stared at him for a moment, then reached over and twisted the knife in as wide a circle as possible, agonizing groans struggling in the guys throat, I hope you be hearin me good cause I want all you muthafuckas be knowin Im comin back an gettin all you scum bag muthafuckas…you jus be sure you be tellinem Im gonna be gettinem, thas why I be lettin you live. You be sure you be tellin Raul he be seein Maria real soon…real soon, you be hearin me spic—twisting the knife again and yanking harder on his head—an I be makin sure that message be stayin in your head, you be hearin me, I dont want no chanct it be slippin out so I be cuttin this muthafuckin ear off—the look of panic on the guys face increased and Bobby became aware that the guy was pissing in his pants—now aint this a bitch, you be pissin in your pants. Might be your dick be freezin to the ground an you be loosin that too. Whach you think, think maybe I should be cuttin you useless dick of maricone?—and Bobby stared into his face for a few seconds, getting off on the look of uncontrolled terror in the guys eyes, then slowly started slicing his ear off, leaning to the side to avoid getting blood on himself, his eyes bulging as he stared at the knife going deeper from top to bottom, hearing then smelling the guys shit as he lost control of everything and his eyes rolled back in his head as Bobby stared at the knife, momentarily unaware of anything else, then suddenly there was no resistance to the knife and the ear was in his hand and Bobby stared at it until he again reminded himself to stay aware and took another slow, deep, breath, exhaling the same way, and repeated the process several times before taking his attention away from the ear and back to the guys face. His face was covered with blood and water and dirt and Bobby couldnt tell if he was conscious or not and he leaned over and waved the ear in front of the guys face, noticing that his eyes registered awareness, I sure hope they be findin you before you be bleedin to death, but if they not might be theys gettin the message anyways. Whach you think spic—Bobby started to say something else, wanting to tantalize, torment and torture the muthafucka as long as possible, but stopped in spite of his desire and just looked at him for a moment, then twisted his face with disgust, Ah, fuck you muthafuckas, you aint even worth my shit….Less see how loud you be yellin with your own ear in your mouth—and he shoved the ear in the guys mouth and gradually released his head and listened for a second to the faint and pathetic groans coming from his throat, then blinked his eyes rapidly for a second, wiped his knife off on the guys jacket, then stood and backed away a few feet, stopped for a second, then turned and disappeared into the darkness, knowing exactly what route he would take back home, and also what alternative routes he could take if something unexpected happened. Bobbys adrenaline and blood were pounding and his exhilaration was so intense he was unaware of his feet touching the ground, but he automatically followed the route, over a couple offences, through a few alleys, south on one street, east on another, then back west for a couple of streets, always in the shadows, always moving at the same pace as those around him, always invisible to the casual eye, unnoticed by walkers and drivers alike, just another dude hustling through the chilled night to get his ass home, the exhilaration seeming to increase, yet he stayed aware, constantly checking everything out, making sure he never came up behind anyone too fast or too close, not wanting some dude to think he had to defend himself against him, always looking alone and purposeless, always adjusting his speed to his surroundings until he was the only person on the street and he trotted, faster and faster, punching the air in front of him harder and harder, turning and running backward as fast as possible like a defensive back then jerking around and leaping high in the air to knock down the pass or intercept and run on down the field, straight-arming every sucker that came near him, occasionally stopping and picking up a couple of rocks and throwing them at imaginary targets and hitting the bullseye everytime, then back to running and punching and leaping until he got to the steps to the cellar then stopped and leaned against the railing for a moment, then leaped in the air, his fist reaching for the stars, Right the fuck on!!!!
Moishe was still sitting in the same chair, feeling weighted down after Bobby left. He tried to leave himself alone, but was forced to accept the simple truth: he was afraid of another loss, to once again love someone and have them torn out of his life. He told himself to relax, you have seen the truth of him even if he hasnt. We all do what we can do and right now you sit and relax and maybe read a book or listen to music….
but w
hen Bobby returned he was still sitting in the same chair, in the same position, in the midst of the same discussion, but his mind stopped suddenly when Bobby opened the door, locked it and leaned against it, staring at Moishe, his face wet, eyes wide, very wide, all of him seeming to be jumping up and down and running at top speed while standing still. There was so much adrenaline and energy coming from him that Moishe felt the impact in his own chest and was shocked for a moment….
Eventually Bobby moved and sat a few feet from Moishe, sweat dripping from his face, panting, staring…and Moishe forced a smile on his face and silence from his mouth though he wanted to ask a dozen questions, but he just looked at him, inwardly sighing and happy that he was alright, carefully noticing that there were no rips or tears in his clothing and only sweat on his face, no cuts, gashes or bruises and no scrapes on his hands and his knuckles were not split and he was sweating but had obviously been running so he did all he could to remain calm and silent….
The Willow Tree: A Novel Page 20
