by Cy Blanca
Curt didn’t respond. It couldn’t be that simple—could it?
“It is that simple,” Antony said. “So stop pouting and let’s eat. I’m sick of being in the house. I’ll even let you pick.”
Curt chuckled. “You sure that’s a good idea?”
“Of course it is. So long as you know, depending on what you choose, you may or may not be getting laid tonight.”
Antony’s smile was disgusting it was so sweet. Curt’s appetite did a backflip and snared on the toes of its acrobatics, his stomach turned inside out. “So how about Maddie’s to celebrate us gettin’ the hell out of here, huh?” he asked, voice on the verge of frantic.
“Good choice,” Antony said, nestling deeper into Curt’s side. “And since you feel so strongly about it, I’ll even let you pay.”
Curt scoffed, “So generous, nene.”
“What can I say? I’m a giver.”
“SO KANSAS City, huh?” Jesse asked.
“Yeah. One of my cousins has a place big enough for us while we get our stuff moved to the apartment, and she’s got some connections around town for jobs and stuff. We figure it’s close enough Ant can visit his brothers and sister, and Mama can come down and stay whenever she’s up for it, so….” Curt hoisted the smallish box with the few things he kept in his classroom and all the pictures his students had painted or drawn for him on their last day. He and Antony thought it would be easiest to tell the kids they weren’t coming back the week before the summer started, give them all a chance to say good-bye.
“And what exactly did Antony tell the kids?”
Curt snorted. “He said we were secret agents like the Avengers, and our next assignment was to help out at a different school.”
Jesse laughed, a loud pop of air that filled the parking lot. “Not bad.”
“Yeah. That’s your friend.”
“Hey, you’re the one he goes home to every night.”
“Jealous?”
“Naw. Besides, Carlita doesn’t like to share, and I’ve joined you two once or twice on your monthly dessert and drinks nights at Blue Moose to know that Antony doesn’t either.”
“Psh, yeah. That makes two of us.”
They stood in the parking lot in silence, the seriousness of the moment rendering them speechless. Curt opened his mouth a few times to say something to fill the quiet, but all he could think of was apologies and self-recriminations. Jesse wasn’t here for that. Good-bye was hard enough without either one of them playing a round of “who’s the guiltiest and most pathetic.”
“I’m gonna miss you, C,” Jesse said, his voice as quiet as a summer breeze.
“Me too, man,” Curt said. “Me too.”
“And, hey, KC ain’t too far away. So I’m expecting you to find space for me and the family every other weekend.”
That’s what they both needed—light, familiar. “So long as you promise to cook. Or at least bring me some Cicis.”
“Shit,” Jesse said in mock disgust. “By the time I get it to you, it’ll be solid enough for you to use to start building a second bathroom. Not sure how Antony puts up with you and your terrible taste in comfort food. Who even raised you? Surely not your parents, with all their luscious foods.”
“Ant said about the same thing the night I told him I was….” No need to finish that thought and ruin what was a companionable farewell.
Jesse caught the near slip, however, and they went back to quietly shifting from foot to foot. Jesse again broke the silence. “Take care of yourself, man.”
“Yeah. You too.”
“Ah, don’t worry about me. I’ve got a wife who keeps me in line, and I always know my way home. You be sure you remember yours. Don’t stay away forever. Then we can go to Cicis together, and I’ll kick your ass at Galaga like when we were in high school.”
Curt snorted. “Yeah, you wish. I don’t know how many times your mom picked you up crying from Sk8away. You sure you wanna go there?”
“Screw you, man. I got my fair share of licks in at Tekken 2.”
They laughed. The attempts at stalling were obvious, but neither minded. With one last long exhale, Curt nodded his head. “See ya around, J.”
“You too, brother.”
Curt put his box down. They’d known each other since they were kids, and in all that time, Jesse had never been one for bouts of sentimentality. But sometimes you needed a hug. A warm embrace and a quick pat on the back never hurt anybody.
“You hang tough, kid,” Curt said.
“Yeah.”
When they separated, Curt backed up and picked up his things. Jesse gave him a lopsided smile and a two-finger salute. Curt nodded, then headed for his car.
Sure gonna miss this place, Curt mused. He was so deep in thought, he didn’t hear the footsteps until he’d already gotten to his car. He placed his box on the old Pontiac’s roof, then reached in his pocket for his keys.
“What’s up, J? Come over here to get another reminder of that butt whippin’ I—”
The bat came in slow motion, as did the sound of Jesse’s voice from across the parking lot.
“Curt!”
On reflex he raised his hand, shielding his face. Growing up in Oakland, he knew a thing or two about protecting your head when someone got the jump on you from behind. The attacker got a good crack in on his forearm, though, and Curt went down on his knees with the pain. He couldn’t get a good look at the guy’s face. Just heard his voice.
“Damn, faggot. Stay the fuck down!”
“Chad?” Curt looked up. The kid’s face was contorted, almost as hideous as his girlfriend’s had been at the school board meeting as he and Antony made their way out of the building.
Despite having Curt trapped on the ground, Chad was too hysterical to seize his opportunity. He let out a growl, but before he could bring the bat down again, he was tackled from the side, hitting the ground with a breath-filled “Oomph!”
“You okay, C?”
Curt was still a bit dazed, and the pain in his arm was enough to keep him paralyzed where he sat.
“Talk to me, Curt. Are you—”
“F-fine,” Curt croaked. “I’m fine. He got my arm.”
“Can you move it?” Jesse kneeled down in front of Curt, looking him over for any other wounds. He went to touch his arm but Curt flinched.
“No! Better not touch that, man. Let me….” He rolled to his left, using his uninjured arm to balance himself on his car. “I’m good. Just… just let me… rest here… for….”
“Curt! Curtis!”
ANTONY WAS weary. His mind nearly broken, a carcass for the vultures of this town to feast on in his weakness. He’d never felt so utterly helpless. He paced the waiting room, unable to keep his nerves from jumping.
“Mr. James?” a nurse called out into the suffocating quiet of the waiting room.
“Yeah!” Antony all but tackled the nurse, rushing toward her with wide eyes and short breath. “Is he okay? Can I see him?”
“Slow down, Mr. James. The doctor just got through with him.” The nurse smiled, the first bit of warmth Antony had felt all day.
“Is he… is he okay?”
“He’s fine, Mr. James. A scratch or two on his legs, but his right arm is busted pretty badly.”
“Oh God.” The world almost tilted, taking Antony with it.
“Now, don’t you go falling over, Mr. James. You do him no good if we have to admit you too.”
Antony couldn’t even register the nurse’s attempts at calming him down. She was the first kind voice he’d heard in two months, but he was too worn out to acknowledge her sympathy.
“Can I see him now? Please?”
“Of course. I’ll show you to his room.”
“…HEAVY LIFTING, okay?”
“Sure, doc, whatever you—”
“Ram!”
The doctor turned at the sound of Antony’s voice.
Curt closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Baby,” he said as he let the b
reath go on a heavy sigh.
“What the hell happened? You were coming home.”
“I know—”
“I called your cell and you didn’t answer. I was so fucking scared.”
“Nene, I know. I’m—”
“Jesse called me screaming. I thought you were dead. I—”
As often as Curt had had to stop Antony’s rambling with a kiss, one would think the two were constantly spontaneously making out.
When he released Antony’s lips, he looked him in the eye, his left hand on his cheek. “I’m all right, nene. You?”
Antony nodded, his breath coming in short gasps.
“Ant?”
Antony stayed silent for a few more moments, attempting to keep himself under control. “How’s your arm?” he finally asked.
“Good,” Curt said, a chuckle floating after the word. “It’s fine. This is Dr. Hanley. She was just telling me how to take care of it.”
Antony looked to his left.
Dr. Hanley had an amused smile on her face. “I take it you’re the boyfriend?”
“Yeah. Is he gonna be okay?”
“Absolutely. So long as he doesn’t do any heavy lifting and takes his meds regularly, he’ll be just fine.”
“What about… you see, Doctor, we’re leaving town in about a week, and—”
“Mr. Ramírez has told me all about your move. I’m sorry to hear about what you’ve been dealing with. I have a colleague in Kansas City I can contact, let her know you’re coming around her way. She’ll have your information in case of any emergencies.”
“Is that… I mean, you can do that?” Everything—the town, the move, the attack, and now having to find a new doctor in Kansas City—was just so overwhelming.
“It’s all taken care of, baby. It’ll be fine.”
“Yeah. What about the fucker who did this to you?”
“Jesse got him, babe. It was that asshole from the school board meeting.”
“Is he in jail? That’s all I care about right now.”
“I believe that’s where I take my leave,” Dr. Hanley said as she stood. “I’ll tell Officer Jacobs to come on in.”
“See,” Curt said. “All taken care of.”
6
“WHAT IS this?”
“What’s it look like, Fox?” Curt asked.
“It looks like someone’s got a bone to pick with the people of Shawnee County,” Fox said, reading over the letter Curt had given him.
“Then I guess that’s what it is.” Curt knew he might have been pushing it, especially since his friend had only been working at the CJ for about a year. But Antony needed closure. They both did.
Fox took in a deep breath. “Man, your guy must be looking for a world of hurt.”
“He’s already in a world of hurt,” Curt said. “I don’t think this will make much difference.”
“You do realize what you’re asking me to do, right? I mean, I get caught helping you do this, I could lose my job, man.”
“And I promise to make it up to you one day.”
Fox scoffed. “All this because, what, some idiots are picking on him? You do know where you live, right? This ain’t exactly the world’s classiest or most tolerant place. You guys are leaving. I still have to live and work here. You’re willing to risk my job just because he’s a little shaken up?”
“The guy threw a brick through our window, Fox,” Curt said, voice flat, as if attempting to keep himself level. “A brick. While Antony was at home by himself. And then attacked me in the school parking lot on my last day.”
Curt’s cast was rough and bright against his skin, speckled white against smooth ebony. Even if Fox wanted to ignore what happened, he couldn’t ignore that. “Look man, it sucks, you know? What happened to you. The shit you two are going through, it’s tough. But I gotta say, I’m not really sure what this all has to do with me.”
Curt raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“I mean, come on, Curt. This is some heavy shit. I wanna help, I do, but….”
“What, you scared or something?”
“Hell yeah, I’m scared.” Fox chuckled, a bitter scratch at the back of his throat.
Curt let the knot in his chest unfurl, releasing the tension and anger attempting to unwind and explode at his friend. “I get it, Fox. So how do you think Ant feels, huh?”
Fox stayed silent but nodded. “Listen,” Curt said. “This isn’t about him not being able to handle himself. I’ve been with him for over three years. The man can take care of himself no problem. This is about control. Fear. And whatever he needs to do to feel like he’s back in control, I’m going to help him do that, all right?”
Fox took another quick look at the paper in front of him. It was simple: one block of text on printer paper. But the words were as vicious as anything he’d ever read. “Christ, C. Do you know what’ll happen if they find out I helped you? I’m not even the head editor, for crying out loud. Little more than a contracted worker, a desk jockey who sometimes gets to proofread. I’m lucky they even let me in the building most days.”
Curt chuckled. “Like I said, I’ll make it up to you.”
“What, with a poem?”
“Hey, the last one I wrote for you got you laid, didn’t it?”
Fox sighed. “Yeah, yeah.” He read over the paragraph once more, then clicked his teeth. “I mean, couldn’t you get him to lighten it up a little? Damn.”
“Ha! You try gettin’ that man to do something he doesn’t want to do. Last person who ever did that was his ma, and I’m betting she’d probably approve. Hell, she’d probably even edit, proof, and illustrate the damn thing.”
“Yeah,” Fox said, the word chased by a snort. “I guess you’re right about that.” Another heavy exhale. “Fine. But, man, you owe me big time.”
“You’re the best, Fox.”
“Yeah, yeah. Just check the front page in a couple days, and pray they don’t dust for fingerprints or some shit.”
“HEY, BABE,” Curt called.
“In here, Ram.” Antony’s voice was muffled, traveling over what seemed to be mountains of boxes.
“Where?”
“Behind where the sofa used to be.”
“Coño, that moving truck can’t get here soon enough. How did we manage to accumulate so much shit?” Curt stepped over a few brown boxes, then rounded the corner over a stack of three marked Bedroom and two marked Kitchen in bold red ink. “I can tell where your priorities are, nene.”
“What?” Antony said as he walked toward Curt.
“Huge red letters for the bedroom and the kitchen?”
“It’s where we eat and fuck. What’s more important than that?” He walked up to Curt and planted a wet kiss on his mouth.
“Damn, that tasted sweet. How ’bout another?”
“Not before dinner, babe,” Antony said with a smirk. “What did you need?”
“Your letter made front page.”
“Shit, are you serious?”
“I’ve got good friends in high places.”
“Who? Fox the mail clerk?”
“For your information, smartass, he’s a copyeditor. And you’re missing the point. Your letter”—Curt pointed to the newspaper in his hand—“is front-page news.”
Antony took the paper from Curt’s hand. His mouth hung open for a moment.
“Well,” Curt said. “Aren’t you gonna read it?”
Antony looked at Curt, unsure of how to answer.
“Come on. I wanna hear it from the source.”
Antony hesitated for a moment, then began to read:
“This is by far one of the hardest letters I’ve ever had to write. But I couldn’t stay silent. I refuse to stay silent. That being said, I’ll keep this quick and to the point. You, every one of you, should be ashamed of yourselves. You’ve allowed fear and bigotry to override your decency and have driven me and my partner—no. I won’t spare your feelings or your comfort. My lover, my boyfriend—yes.”
<
br /> “I love that part,” Curt said.
Antony looked at him with an annoyed scowl.
“Sorry, nene. Continue.”
Antony looked back down at the paper and began again.
“We’ve been forced to leave Topeka, my birthplace, the place I’ve lived for thirty years, because the people of Shawnee County have forgotten their humanity. Someone (I won’t reveal names because your loss of rationality hasn’t dampened your intelligence, so I won’t insult you) threw a stone through my window, and that same person attacked my boyfriend, Curtis Ramírez, in the parking lot as he was leaving Pauline Central for the last time. What has happened to you all? Is this how you want to raise your children? Children I’ve tried to help mold into caring, intelligent, honest young ladies and gentlemen. Children I have to leave behind because their parents have decided to behave like wild animals. I won’t dwell on your shortcomings, despite all of you being so ready to dwell on ours. I just want to say you may have forced us to move away with your violence, but you haven’t driven us away from Topeka. We love this place, have family here. We bid you adieu and wish you all the happiness you tried, and failed, to take away from us. I pray you continue to teach your children love and tolerance, even when in your hearts you’ll know you’ve lost that right. Be well and learn from this.
“Antony James, former first-grade teacher at Pauline Central Primary School.”
After reading the last word, Antony sat silent, staring off into space as if stunned by his own words. “Oh my God. It’s actually there. It’s actually all there.”
“Every word.” Curt rubbed Antony’s back. “It’s good, nene. Fucking brilliant.”
Antony sat on the pile of pillows they’d made to replace their sofa. Curt’s cousin offered to make sure the couch, bed, and kitchen table were in the apartment when they got there, so they’d sent them ahead while they continued to pack.
“I’m surprised people haven’t come around with torches and pitchforks.”
Curt snorted. “Who’s to say they won’t? We’re just lucky we’re leaving tomorrow afternoon.”
