Preparation for the Next Life

by Atticus Lish

I’m like, do not do it! I’m like, think again!

  Their combined momentum moved people out of the way. Or people didn’t move and Zou Lei and Skinner went around them and rejoined on the other side, Skinner saying:

  I’m like, take a breath!

  —continuing to talk through the silhouettes of people like paper targets who got between them.

  He halted suddenly and she halted and someone bumped her and she didn’t notice. She waited, pulling her hair out of her eyes as Skinner lit a cigarette.

  A puff of smoke lifted out of his cupped hands and rose up into the black and disappeared and when he dropped his hand, he had a lit cigarette in it. They started marching again.

  There! I need that for this story.

  She laughed, It’s funny. Unbelievable.

  Look at it, I tell him. Look at what you’re doing!

  It’s the crazy!

  Somehow, you get it. I don’t know why you do. He didn’t.

  When they were on the other side of Chinatown, he said:

  I have no idea where we are. Do you?

  He stopped again and looked around and she joined in looking around at the projects, train yard, the highway and cranes.

  Fuck it! he started walking again.

  Fack it! she laughed and made a fist.

  Fuck it. It don’t matter. It makes no difference. We’re gonna force-march this way as hard as we fuckin can. It don’t matter if it’s a bridge or a hole in the ground. We’re gonna do things the army way. It don’t matter if it takes fifteen hours. Let’s just be stupid.

  We will be crazy!

  Oh, yeah, we’re gonna be crazy! We’re gonna shoot donkeys!

  Oh my God!

  I’m feeling the guy’s arm and he’s all shaking and terrified.

  It’s funny.

  It’s so stupid. We did so many stupid things. I really hope you’re not working tomorrow, cuz the two of us are not coming back.

  They were hiking up over a bridge that went over the water and down to an industrial area on the shore where there were derricks and containers. She looked back at the small Chinese signs behind them.

  I think we can just turn around and go back.

  That’s true, but, see, that’s the problem. You ain’t thinking the army way yet.

  I have to be more crazy.

  Crazy! You gotta get with it. Don’t worry. I know you’re scared, but I’m here and I’ll help you.

  He patted her back. Then he tried to put his arm around her.

  Oh my God. We are so crazy. You are killing me with this arm.

  It’s okay. I’m here to comfort you.

  It’s too heavy. This arm is crazy. My God, I can’t walk. Go the normal way.

  Okay, but I have to comfort you later.

  We come far.

  It’s the boonies.

  They were walking by the stadiums and parkland. The sky was a slightly lighter shade and everything on the ground was black. The red ember of his cigarette appeared and disappeared as his hand swung. Then it rose up to his mouth and glowed and then went flying off in an arc and bounced.

  Stop a minute, he said.

  What?

  Just stop a minute. Come on. Come here.

  Why?

  Come on. Closer than that.

  What for?

  Cuz I’m crazy. I want to feel your leg again.

  No, not now.

  Come on, you were so chill before. I want to remember what it feels like.

  It’s cold now. It’s too cold. Now it’s too cold to stop. Come on. We has to march.

  A car came driving toward them and Skinner’s white face was crossed by the extended shadows of his outstretched fingers shielding himself from the glare.

  Come on, we go.

  Yes, ma’am. Roger that.

  Soon we come to a place.

  You know where we are?

  It’s not far.

  After they crossed 111th Street, they encountered more headlights coming at them, bouncing along underneath the elevated tracks, and they began keeping to the sidewalk. From far away, they heard a rumbling that grew louder and louder until it reached them and the subway came thundering over their heads and screeched and slowed and came smashing to a stop. It exhaled and all the doors opened and the cold white light from inside the cars were cast down from high up above and the intercom spoke. Before they reached it, the subway went away, making blue sparks, and a little group of quiet men with Indian faces and string knapsacks and work boots was coming down the Z-shaped flight of stairs to the street.

  Is this where you were talking about?

  The intersection smelled like sweet fried plantains and chicken.

  I come here before.

  The men appreciated Zou Lei and one of them clucked his tongue at her as he and his friends crossed the intersection, passing in front of a truck with its engine gurgling and headlights spotlighting the men, flinging their shadows on the cement wall of a lounge.

  There’s bars here, Skinner said. Will you drink with me?

  Up to you.

  They went into a windowless one-story building filled with Spanish singing and red light. There were men standing almost motionless swaying in the dark in cowboy hats and belt buckles. One of them staggered and his friends picked him up. You could not hear him in the music but you could see his mouth open and his eyes shut, shouting or crying out.

  Skinner and Zou Lei waited at the bar until the short woman who tended bar in a cowboy hat came down to them.

  Two beers, he said, holding up two fingers. Coors.

  Coronas, the woman said.

  Skinner picked up his bottle and drank off half of it as soon as it was put in front of him.

  Zou Lei was talking to him, but he couldn’t hear her. She held up her bottle and they tapped their bottles together, then she drank. He put his arm around her. She shifted slightly, making it awkward.

  I’m comforting you! he yelled, but she shook her head and he let his hand drop.

  We’re still crazy, he said. I know we’re crazy.

  I cannot hear.

  I know, it’s nuts.

  There were rainbow lights flowing around the jukebox, which had the image of a saint in the center of the songs.

  You love music?

  He was looking around them in the loud dark. At the sound of her voice, he looked in her eyes and said oh yeah.

  He got her attention and pointed at the high-definition TV over the bar, which was showing a professional boxing match between Mexican fighters in tasseled shorts and boots. He watched her face in profile watching the match.

  Nice TV, he yelled.

  She nodded seriously, the blue of the ring reflected on her face.

  Skinner noticed a man wearing a bandana staring at him. The bartender set another round in front of them.

  Hey, let’s see how fast we can drink these. Hey, look!

  He drank his beer straight down while she watched.

  Now you.

  He watched her lean her head back and her throat working as she swallowed the contents of the entire bottle, then she set her empty bottle on the bar next to his.

  I don’t drunk.

  But you’re getting there.

  They had created a little forest of clear glass bottles on the bar.

  In the China, the beer is much bigger—this big, big one! She held her hands apart to show their size. I cannot drink them. Here, this small one it’s nothing.

  All right. Then go again with me.

  I don’t get drunk still.

  The man with the bandana had come over to them.

  You got the prettiest girl at the bar.

  Thanks.

  She’s the best one here. Believe that.

  Skinner clicked bottles with him. The man leaned to Zou Lei and touched bottles with her.

  I told him you’re the prettiest girl at the bar.

  She raised her beer and he raised his.

  God bless you both, the man said. Beneath his bandana
, he had an earnest face, and, although he couldn’t have been over the age of twenty-five, fat on his chest and stomach. She could see that he did not do many pushups.

  For half a minute, all of them directed their attention to the TV, where the match had ended and people other than the athletes were milling in the ring. Shortly, the earnest man eased back and stood with his friend.

  The Spanish music was loud enough to swim in.

  Zou Lei pointed to her ear.

  What? He’s crazy?

  No, the music!

  She imitated the cowbell. It sounds like the animal is coming! And she imitated the feet of an animal with her hands.

  Don’t remind me!

  You shoot this animal!

  I didn’t. It wasn’t me, I swear!

  He threw his arm around her shoulder, squeezing her to him briefly and letting her go before she could object. A minute later, he reached up behind her and tugged a lock of her wavy hair.

  In the center of the floor, a man in a black cowboy hat was dancing with a woman who looked as if she had given birth to many sons and daughters and they would all be drunks together forever. She was in her fifties perhaps, and wore a very short black skirt. In her high heels, she was taller than her partner, whose shoulder she rested her hand on. When she moved, you could see the thicker section of her nylons.

  I didn’t kill it, Skinner said. Another round?

  You are crazy.

  I’ve got trigger control.

  You are strong boy.

  He pulled her to him and they stood swaying with his arms locked around her waist and his face against the back of her skull, smelling her hair.

  Okay, it’s enough.

  The bartender, in her cowboy hat, collected their empty bottles into a tub, bending forward, her breasts hanging in the red light.

  Another one, Skinner yelled to her, still trying to hold onto Zou Lei, who was beginning to wrestle him.

  Here’s to us!

  Here to you!

  To getting shitfaced in a strange place!

  To America! she cried out. Your country!

  They drank.

  You’re okay, he told her.

  Zou Lei’s face had gotten alcohol-flushed to the point that it looked as if she might be sunburned.

  My country is the friend of you country. It’s like one. The brother to one another, we come here to make our life. No matter what happen, we are still brother.

  I feel you.

  He twined his fingers in her hair again and she let him do it.

  When he tried to give his bank card to the bartender, she gave it back and pointed behind him. They journeyed across the bar, wondering what they would find. They found an ATM padlocked to the far wall. Zou Lei went to the bathroom while he paid the bill. She held herself on the sink in the tiny green room. Scratched into the paint on the stall, it said Cholo BCB. Mi Corazon. A pierced heart.

  They were outside now, taking reeling steps under the subway tracks and laughing. He did his dance.

  Run! she yelled.

  She broke away and started running and he chased after her, all the way up the stairs and through the turnstile and up the stairs again. They shoved on the train laughing and gasping.

  Thanks a lot. I was in the mood for that. Are we gonna PT when we get there?

  I test you.

  You test me? I guess I better hope I pass.

  You has to work hard.

  What happens if I don’t pass? More pushups?

  Pushup, one thousand!

  The subway took them back the way they had come, through a sense of rural emptiness, as if they were riding in another part of the world and there was nothing but desolation beyond the houses under the widely separated streetlights.

  At the last stop, which was underground, they climbed up the stairs to the street. On the last flight of steps, they passed three males in hoods jogging down in sagging jeans.

  What you lookin at? one said.

  Skinner stopped on the steps and turned around. The males were looking back at him.

  What, you wanna try it, nigga?

  I’m right here, Skinner said.

  Then do something, nigga.

  There’s a gun in the bag, nigga.

  Zou Lei came back down and took Skinner’s arm and pulled at him.

  Test me, nigga.

  The male with the knapsack started coming up the stairs. He had long black braids swinging from his head like an Apache Indian. Skinner didn’t move but didn’t say anything.

  Listen to your bitch, nigga.

  Test me, nigga!

  Fuck this nigga scared. Walk, nigga, walk.

  Your bitch saved your life, nigga.

  The males pulled each other down the stairs.

  I’m right here, Skinner said.

  Zou Lei pulled him and he followed her up onto the street.

  Don’t do that, she said.

  They shouldn’t mess with me.

  Come on.

  He was silent as they made their way across the intersection, which felt like a vast empty stage set, handbills littering the sidewalk, Chinese signs in the dark.

  Don’t pay attention to them.

  I don’t.

  He caught up with her as they walked along. She noticed he had lit a cigarette.

  Hey! she said and hit his arm.

  Trust me, I don’t.

  They heard a vehicle coming and he put his head down until it broke out of the background of the stage set and came speeding at them, floodlighting them, and soaring past them. Their shadows, flung on the metal shutters of storefronts, seemed to rise up and lie down again.

  Look at that, he pointed. Mickey D’s is still open. You like them?

  Of course I like.

  Well, let’s go.

  Okay! We go.

  He grabbed the door for her and threw his cigarette in the street and she went in rubbing her arms and wandered towards the counter and he followed, standing behind her, close enough for her hair to tickle his face while they stared at the menu sign with bloodshot eyes.

  She wanted to treat him, but he told her to put her money away. I got it. She’s not paying.

  It’s together? asked the girl behind the register, who was not Chinese this time.

  Yeah, but she’s not paying. She’s just all happy.

  Next time I treat, Zou Lei said. The real Chinese food.

  They waited while the girl went over to the chute and put her hand up and waited for a sandwich to fall out of it into her hand.

  Macky D you say. It’s the name Macky D. It’s so cool. The cool guy say Macky D. You are cool? I teach you one in Chinese: maidanglao.

  My. Dong. Lao. My-dong-lao.

  It’s mean Mack-don-al. You say perfect. I think you are Chinese, maybe one half.

  How do you say be my girlfriend?

  Girlfriend: niupengyou.

  New-pong-yow.

  They had their food now and they were sitting at a booth unwrapping their sandwiches.

  So, like, if a guy likes a girl in China, he goes new-pong-yow and that’s how she knows?

  He will give her some present, maybe just to show his feeling. If they the rich people, maybe he will buy her the TV or refrigerator. Sometimes the boy buy the small animal, rabbie.

  Rabbit?

  The ears goes up tu-tu-tu, the nose is red, the hairs is coming from the nose like cat. Yes, rabbit. You can keep it in a jail.

  Like a cage?

  Yes, the cage, and give it vegetable. When it get more fat, even they will eat it. Cut the head—piiyah—and cook.

  Do they make like rabbit sandwiches?

  Maybe. I think you can make the sandwich if you want.

  Can you go into a McDonald’s in China and get a McRabbit?

  Maybe soon, I think. Next week.

  He put his burger down, fished out his cell phone and moved over to her side of the booth.

  Get next to me so we’re both in it. I have to remember tonight.

  He
reached around her waist and pulled her in. He took the picture and then turned the phone over and looked at it. In the picture, her head was tilted sideways resting on his camouflage coat. She looked old and beautiful.

  Under the table, her legs looked young but she would not release his hand and let him feel her.

  Go back that side.

  You’re a hardass.

  I told you, I test you.

  And if I pass the test, what happens? You’ll be my girlfriend?

  Yes I can, maybe.

  What do I get when you’re my girlfriend?

  Girlfriend.

  Yeah but what do I get? Like, exactly?

  She ignored the question.

  Don’t ask this question.

  Aw, come on. I’m sorry.

  Eat you food or you will be hunger.

  Here, he said and put his large fries between them. Get some. He set his burger down and wiped his face. I could use another Coke. Twisting around in his seat, he looked at the counter to see if there was a line. She saw the tattooed star on his neck and his jaw scraped red from shaving.

  You want one?

  She shook her ice. I have, she said.

  He watched her putting fries in her womanly mouth with her chapped, calloused hands, her back straight, her legs crossed under the table.

  I don’t know what time it is, he said when they were outside again. It was darker than before, maybe because some of the streetlights had timed out. She said she didn’t need him to take her home, but he said there was no way I’m not going with you, and they began to walk up the long incline of the avenue. They went under the railroad bridge and past the dead signs, seeing the tarps over the stands, the empty wooden trestles that held vegetables and fruit during the day. Skinner stepped on fruit mashed into the sidewalk like glistening organs.

  They turned a corner by a parking lot and went down a narrow way between buildings with arched entrances. There were names and numbers written quickly in dripping spraypaint repeated on the concrete foundation, which came up to chest height before the bricks began. The street doglegged. They went around another corner, going downhill now. She led them under trees. There were clotheslines on the second-story decks. Hanging in the dark, he saw a flag with a crescent moon. The hill was very steep. A blue flickering light showed in a window and they heard gunshots, sirens and muffled music.

  Somewhere down the hill, they turned again, onto a long block of row houses going out to the expressway. There were large expanses of blackness. They walked past carports, satellite dishes.