“I threw away the bullets, John,” I said.
“What?"
“All along the way I threw them into trash cans. I knew I couldn‘t kill you. I knew I could never have her back."
“Halt!” someone shouted.
Johnny turned quickly and the pointed pistol turned with him. We saw the policemen at the same moment. They opened fire, hitting Johnny Fry seventeen times.
Holland Dollar met me at the police station that evening. They were only questioning me this time.
I told the police most of the truth: that my girlfriend called me over to tell me that she was going to have an open relationship with Fry; that I waited for Johnny to tell him that I knew everything and that I was unhappy about their cheating; that he pulled a gun on me and threatened me but that I didn‘t think he intended to shoot.
It was mostly true. Mostly.
For some days after that, I sat in my third-floor apartment wondering if I had killed Johnny Fry. I examined my motives and my heart. I can‘t say that I didn‘t hate the man—the lessons he taught me were not anything I ever wanted to know. He humiliated me and laughed at my impotence, but in the end I had not planned to take his life.
My pistol was empty, and I didn‘t expect him to be at Jo‘s. If she had come out of that bedroom, I was going to give her the pistol as a symbol of how deep my feelings for her ran.
And in the street I didn‘t expect the police to come or, for that matter, Johnny to grab the gun from my open palm.
I had no idea that he feared my influence on Jo.
In a court of law or just the judgment of common sense, I would be found innocent of having committed any crime.
But there was one moment that I could not explain away. When the first shot hit John Fry, he let out a little grunt of surprise and maybe pain. In that brief instant I felt a moment of satisfaction and hope. There was something inside me that rejoiced at his impending demise. I hadn‘t called the cops, but neither did I yell out for them to stop. It would have made no difference if I had tried to save Johnny, but the fact that I didn‘t try meant, in a way, that I leaned toward killing him.
Seeing his death in this light, I am guilty for remaining quiet when I could have spoken up. He would have died anyway, I‘m sure, but that doesn‘t exonerate my inaction.
I haven‘t spoken to Joelle again. Maybe she hates me, maybe not. She‘s called, but I never listen to the messages. I erase them as soon as I hear her voice.
I talk to Cynthia about once a week, and Sisypha has been to see me three times in as many months. She really wants to be my sister. And even through all the guilt I‘m feeling, she fills me with happiness.
I have been seeing various women—sexually. Linda and Monica, Lucy and Nina too. Lucy‘s show was a big success. Her foundation made more than $300,000 and funded a home for African children who have been orphaned by endless wars and AIDS.
Monica‘s daughter, Mozelle, has been accepted to the Lycee Franc ais.
I know that I haven‘t been a good person in all of this. I have done most things wrong and come out okay anyway. But I try to tell myself that there‘s always time for redemption and that sometimes even the worst decisions turn out to be just fine.
A NOTE ON THE AUTHOR
Walter Mosley is the best-selling author of more than twenty-five critically acclaimed books; his work has been translated into twenty-one languages. His books include two popular mystery series, the Easy Rawlins series (beginning with Devil in a Blue Dress, which was adapted into a successful 1995 film starring Denzel Washington) and the Fearless Jones series, as well as literary fiction, science fiction, political monographs, and a young adult novel. His short fiction has been widely published, and his nonfiction has been published in the New York Times Magazine and The Nation, among other magazines. He was an editor of and contributor to the book Black Genius and was guest editor of The Best American Short Stories 2003. He is the winner of numerous awards, including an O. Henry Award, a Grammy (for his liner notes to Richard Pryor‘s box set), and the PEN American Center‘s Lifetime Achievement Award. Walter Mosley was born and raised in Los Angeles and now lives in New York City.
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