Hummingbird

by Jude Angelini

  I go to work smelling like cheap lotion and drudge through another day. None of us like each other, but we pretend to, because we’re old and out of options and that’s what adults do.

  I finish up and head home through stop-and-go traffic. I do my chores, fire off some emails, then it’s back to the couch again. I’m blowing more lines, listening to Neil Young, playing on my phone, looking on Amazon, shopping for linen sheets.

  chess

  Rachel’s in kindergarten; I’m not. I stay with my mom when she drops her off.

  She gets paid to take other kids to school too. They’re teenagers. Brian’s black, Tim’s white, they live in big houses with trees in the yard.

  When we get to the school, Brian and Rachel go in. Tim stays in the car, I’m in the back.

  We drive for a while and end up in the woods. We walk through the forest into a field. There are kids smoking weed and listening to rock music. We sit with them on a blanket.

  The long-haired one asks me, “Why aren’t you in school?”

  I’m too little for school but I know how to count. I show him.

  He pretends like he cares. Then he kisses his girl, they whisper and laugh.

  I go sit with my mom, but she’s busy too.

  I wander away and play under a tree. I’m looking for gnomes in the mushrooms and moss. I find a hole under the log.

  I whisper, “Come out.”

  They don’t come, but I’m hopeful. I play till I’m tired, then I sleep in the grass.

  We’re back home. I’m out front on the curb. My dad calls me over.

  He asks me what we did today.

  I tell him what we did. I tell him about the gnomes, like the ones in Grandma’s book.

  He goes back in the house, there’s banging and yelling.

  My mom runs out.

  She’s angry at me.

  She looks down and spits, “So you’re his little spy.”

  I’m twirling my hair. I didn’t know what to say. I would’ve been quiet if she’d told me.

  I keep saying sorry but they don’t hear me anymore.

  The neighbors go in, they shut their doors. It’s just us on the sidewalk.

  My dad’s chasing my mom around the building. He trips her, he yells. She gets up and runs. He trips her again, again, and again.

  We go to a neighbors and beat on her door. She’s alone, with a kid of her own. She’s not happy to see us but still lets us in.

  We’re in the kitchen when my dad shows up outside, he just wants to talk. My mom won’t come out.

  We hide upstairs. He beats on the door. He bangs on the windows and yells for my mom.

  It goes on forever and then it goes still.

  I get up to check, maybe he left.

  My mom’s still scared, she whispers, “Come here.”

  We’re crouched in the bedroom, upstairs in the dark.

  Everyone’s quiet. She’s hugging me now.

  Then I hear my name from outside, my dad calls for me.

  “Jude, come to the window… Come let ya dad in.” He sounds sweeter now, “Come to the door, Jude… Come let me in.”

  blown

  We pick up Tina and her homegirl from the trailer park in Rochester. Tina’s up front with me, her friend’s in the back between Roachie and Loc. Five minutes into the ride, Roachie goes to rub the girl’s crotch and Loc’s hand’s already there.

  We get back to my spot and the homegirl’s bummed, whispering to Tina she’s wants to leave. I’m trying to offer her Goldschlager to chill her out.

  I’m like, “Ay, girl, it’s like drinking jewelry.”

  But she ain’t having it. She’s sitting on the curb and won’t even come in the house.

  Now I gotta take her ass back and I got Roachie in my ear talking about running a train on Tina.

  I say, “Yeah right! I gotchoo a girl. But y’all two had to try and finger-fuck her on the ride home. All you had to do was wait a minute.”

  Roachie waves his hand. “Whatever, you handcuffing these hoes.”

  I smack my lips, roll my eyes, “Yeah. Okay, dog.”

  Roachie’s the king of cuffing.

  I’m annoyed by the whole situation and make Tina give me gas money to bring her girl back. I’m thinking I got over, but Tina ends up giving me chlamydia that night.

  She wins.

  A few weeks later, Tina’s in detention talking shit to Crystal saying that I charge her gas money to fuck.

  Crystal says, “You get to fuck Jude? He’ll only let me give him head and that’s it.”

  Tina’s like, “Yeah, but it cost me three dollars.”

  Now Crystal’s mad at me ’cause I’m fucking Tina and not her.

  I don’t know what to tell Crystal, ’cause I’m really not into her. She’s a white-trash headbanger, not my type. I’m pickier about my white girls than other races. I guess I’m just used to their features.

  I only hollered at Crystal ’cause Jinx and Loc was trying to get at her. And they only liked her ’cause she had a fat ass.

  Now I got her and don’t know what to do with her.

  I usually just listen to her complain about her man back in Ecorse, then have her give me head in the laundry room.

  That was going great until Tina opened her fucking mouth. Now Crystal won’t stop hounding me for dick, talking ’bout how I’m selfish.

  Finally, I’m like, “Alright, let’s fuck.”

  She says, “I can’t. I’m on my period.”

  I say, “Well, what up on some head, then?”

  We hit the laundry room.

  I come by her apartment a few days later. It’s bleak. No art on the walls, it’s day-dark, it’s messy.

  A lot of times how well you do in life depends on the hand you’re dealt. Where you’re born, who’s your parents.

  Crystal got dealt a tough one. She’s sixteen and has to take care of everything. Her dad split. Her little sister’s retarded. Her mom’s blind and deformed.

  I met her mom before I met Crystal; I was taking the bus. She was on there with her German shepherd, her face looked a wreck. I made a point to talk to her. I made a point not to notice her face. We got off at the same stop. I helped her down in hopes strangers would see me being a nice guy.

  I remind her about our first meeting when we’re introduced. She likes me after that. I speak when I see her.

  Her mom’s in class now, her sister’s in the bedroom. They share one. I give her sister a dollar to go play outside. She does.

  We go in the bedroom. It’s small and it’s cramped. There’s two single beds on each wall, with a pile of dirty clothes between them. It smells like dust and drool.

  We make out a bit. I try to get into it but the place is depressing. It’s overcast outside and it’s overcast in here. I keep thinking about her sister and her mom’s face and how life isn’t fair.

  She’s like, “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  She says, “You’re not hard at all.”

  I say, “I’ll get there.”

  I push those thoughts out of my head. I focus on her ass. It’s round and it’s soft. I squeeze it. That does the trick.

  Let’s do this before I lose it. I yank off her high-tops and throw them on the pile with the rest of her shit. I pull up her shirt, I fondle her breasts. I’m young, I’m clumsy. I tug down her pants and bend her over the mattress.

  Dick in hand and ready to fuck. I look down and nestled between her ass cheeks is a three-inch, black, lint caterpillar. How long has that been there? It looks like a pipe cleaner. For some reason, that just breaks me. The room goes back to smelling like sour milk. I’m looking at the spit-stained pillows, a dingy stuffed Tweety Bird, her beat-up LA Gear’s.

  My dick dies in my hand.

  I pull u
p my pants and leave her there bent over the bed.

  I’m sitting on the couch trying to figure out how I’m gonna get out of this one. I’ve told chicks to wash their pussies before but they had it easier than Crystal. The girl only has one fuckin’ pair of pants.

  She sits next to me. “What’s wrong?”

  I’m quiet, I’m fishing. Then it hits me.

  I tell her, “I feel fucked up disrespecting your relationship like this. You got a boyfriend. I mean blow jobs are cool but only your man should fuck you.”

  She thinks about it for a minute, nods, and says okay. Then she undoes my pants and goes down on me. I let her ’cause I deserve it.

  Crystal’s head’s bobbing. I got my eyes closed, enjoying. Then the front door opens and her mother walks in. She sits across from us on the chair; Crystal doesn’t stop.

  So I say, “Hi.”

  She says hi back, “Where’s Crystal?”

  Crystal stops sucking long enough to say, “I’m right here, Mom.”

  Then she goes back down.

  I’m kind of freaking out. I don’t know what to do. I can’t really look at her mom. Not like this. I look down at the dog, he’s sitting at her feet. His eyes are locked on me.

  He knows.

  She asks Crystal, “How was school, honey?”

  She stops, says, “Fine.” Then goes back to it.

  I’m thinking, Don’t blind people have super-good hearing? Can’t she hear her sucking? Are they in on this?

  Mom keeps talking.

  She’s clueless. This is out cold. Lemme just hurry up and come.

  It’s hard to orgasm with this German shepherd staring at me. And Crystal keeps stopping to talk, fucking up the rhythm. She’s telling her mom about math class.

  Her mom asks me what math I’m in.

  I say, “Pre-algebra.”

  “Aren’t you a little old for that?” she says.

  I say, “Yeah, I’m dumb.”

  She tells me I’m not, I just need to apply myself.

  “Sure,” I say.

  Now Crystal’s looking up at me licking the head.

  I gotta get out of here. I thought I was wild but this the type of shit that’ll kill a piece of your soul.

  I’m talking to her mom about setting goals while I’m prying her off my dick by the forehead. She fights but I’m stronger. I finally get free. I button up my pants and excuse myself. They got shit to deal with that don’t include me.

  come clean

  I’m doing well enough to go to my twenty-year reunion but not well enough to skip it.

  I didn’t stay in touch with anybody from high school. They graduated and went away to college. My grades were shit, I had to stay an extra year. Then I had a kid and went to work.

  Now I’m back here to show ’em I didn’t turn out a loser. It’s funny how insecurity works. Some cats woulda been bitter and skipped the reunion altogether. I bought a plane ticket to prove a point.

  I’m at the reunion talking with people, faded on G, drinking seltzer water. I’m having good conversations with kids I forgot existed. While some of my closer homies don’t have shit to say.

  That’s life. Twenty years’ll expose a person.

  The whole time I’m there, my head’s on a swivel. I’m looking for Gertie. I just wanna see Gertie. See how she’s doing. I close out the thing waiting for her to show, she never does.

  I hope things turned out well for her. I like to think that they did.

  I’m here for the rest of the week. It’s good to be home. It’s slow. The grass is green. The people got manners.

  I’m down on Main Street in Rochester, doing the old window-cleaning route with Danny.

  It was my dad’s route first. When he went to LA to be an actor, I took it over. And when I followed my old man’s footsteps, I gave it to Danny.

  My pop never made it in Hollywood. He’s back home now. He shines shoes. But he tried.

  I ain’t made it yet either but I’m out here, grinding.

  Danny’s been doing the windows longer than the both of us now. He’s tired of people speaking to him like the help. But he’s got a wife and kids and this is decent money that pays for shit.

  Whenever I get home, I come clean with him for old time’s sake.

  He’s got me scrubbing the windows while he pulls with the squeegee and when I get too far ahead, I come back and hit it with the other squeegee. Then he goes and collects the money while I carry the bucket to the next place.

  I’m on the windows at Subway and I see a woman behind me in the reflection. She’s by herself on the bench smoking a cigarette, sipping pop out a sixty-four-ounce cup. I turn around to take a look. She stands to leave. Her shirt’s too small, her belly spills out over her jeans. Her red hair’s a mess.

  We look at each other for minute.

  I say, “Gertie?”

  She says, “Jude?”

  I smile, “Yeah. How you been?”

  She says, “Jeez, what happened to you?”

  I’m staring at her. She’s missing a front tooth, with a hole in her shirt, and she’s judging me.

  I’m confused. “What do you mean?”

  “I thought you got out of here. Why are you washing windows for?”

  “Just helping my cousin. I’m in town for the reunion. I missed you there.”

  She looks down and mumbles, “Yeah, I was gonna go but I couldn’t get a ride.”

  I say, “Oh.”

  All these years I pictured her doing better than this. It was a self-serving vision I had; I used to dog her back in junior high, mercilessly.

  I didn’t fit in in Rochester. You don’t notice you’re broke till they put you around the rich kids.

  I remember when my pop moved out there, I was in awe. I thought they all had mansions. Everybody had nice lawns and new cars.

  We lived in a one-bedroom flat in an older neighborhood. My dad had the bedroom. My sister and I each slept in closets. Growing up, all Rachel wanted was a window to look out of; I just wanted some Adidas.

  My dad would go shopping for me in the school’s lost and found, then send me to class paranoid some kid was gonna recognize his shirt while I’m wearing it.

  We got free lunch and drank out of peanut butter jars and old yogurt cups. You don’t think about it till you have a friend over and ask ’em do they wanna drink out of cherry or vanilla and they look at you funny.

  And you gotta pour this bucket of water down the toilet to get it to flush and let’s chill in my room and it’s dark and drafty and cramped. Some of ’em don’t wanna hang out with you anymore. Others are like, why don’t you come to my house instead?

  That’s cool, but you can’t wear shoes in their crib. You gotta leave yours outside on the porch ’cause they’re old and stinky. You have dinner with them and they got a mom and dad and napkins and everything. And the roast is delicious but you’re thinking they can smell my feet from under the table.

  They’re nice to you but you feel like an alien.

  So when I get to sixth grade and there’s a redheaded, awkward girl worse off than me, I put a saddle on her ass and ride her. Then maybe no one’ll notice I’m wearing the same shirt to school everyday.

  I blazed her so much I really started believing I hated her.

  It got so bad that her mom came to school and she was damn near retarded too, looking just as crazy as Gertie with thick glasses and coffee stains on her sweatshirt.

  The teachers would take me aside and tell me to be nice. I’d tell ’em I’d chill. And when they left, I’d call her a test tube baby until she ran out the room crying. The class’d bust up laughing and maybe I’d fit in after all.

  I chilled that shit out by the ninth grade and apologized for it, but it doesn’t change things and you can’t undo some damage.


  I tell her it’s ’cause I was weak and a coward. And I prolly wouldn’t have been such a coward if I wasn’t so weak.

  She says it’s okay.

  I was still ashamed and tried to make up for it. I used to skip class and go kick it with her in Mr. Dodson’s. I’d watch her draw and talk to her. She was a good artist, I’d encourage her.

  We went our separate ways but when I thought of her, I pictured her doing well. Doing something within the arts.

  And now here she is, twenty years later, on the sidewalk looking homeless.

  I ask her how she’s been. She says she had a baby girl, who’s four now.

  I say, “Congratulations. How you like being a mom?”

  She says, “The state come and took her from me. Said I wasn’t fit.”

  I say, “That’s fucked up, Gertie. I’m sorry.”

  She says, “It’s okay. She’s with a good family now. They say it’ll be better.”

  “You get to see her at all?”

  She shakes her head no, “Maybe when she’s older.”

  She pulls out a picture. The edges are worn and it’s wrinkled. It’s a one-year-old in a dress next to a Christmas tree, she’s smiling.

  I say, “Cute kid.”

  “Thanks.” She puts her picture back in her pocket. She hits her cigarette and drinks her pop. She says, “I just got married.”

  I say, “That’s dope, where’d you meet him?”

  “We go to the same outpatient program.”

  I nod. “It’s good to have somebody. I would’ve liked to have met him.”

  She reaches her hand out with a pack of cigarettes. “You wanna smoke?”

  I wave it away, “Nah, I quit.”

  She pulls it back.

  Danny comes out. I better get back to work.

  I say, “Hold on a minute. Lemme handle these windows real quick. We can finish talking.”

  “Sure,” she says.

  I mop the glass till it’s sudsy and squeegee it off.

  I’m thinking, Jesus Christ, this girl had it bad. Even back then you coulda seen it going this route. I wasn’t gonna change her future, but I didn’t have to make things worse.

  It ain’t that hard to just be kind.