Charles and Nona didn’t see it at first.
After a long day of unpacking their belongings from cardboard moving boxes, the Penningtons guided their wicker couch into the shade of their porch. They slumped into the cushions. Nona rested her head on Charles. Charles thought about how every person who stopped at the sky-blue house stared at everything in its midst, only to move on without a word. The exceptions gave subtle nods or slight, hurried waves. Everyone was too busy. Or no one wanted to open their arms to strangers. Either one seemed true.
Hard, hollow knocks made the Penningtons look to their left towards an old picket fence with eroding white paint that drooped from the wood. Another couple stood on the other side of it. A husky man with shaggy blonde hair and facial scruff towered beside a slender, raven-haired woman draped in teal. The woman had skin like the lit moon, as if it came out ahead of schedule, and decided to roam the Earth until it got dark.
“Are you Charles?” the man asked.
Charles nodded, sitting up straight on the wicker couch. He kept his eyes on the husky man, who wrinkled his nose while scratching the right side of his face as if he realized the scruff irritated the skin.
“How’d you find out the name?” Charles asked. He hadn’t put either his or Nona’s names on their mailbox.
“We’re going to work together,” said the husky man. “I’m Paul Cavanaugh. I heard you and a couple of other men are starting at the Mill on Monday. Harlan told me about it.”
“That’s right.” Charles shrugged like the hire was common textbook knowledge. “You afraid I’m going to steal your job?”
Paul shook his head. “I’m just being friendly, is all. You don’t always live next door to someone you work with, you know?”
“I hear that.”
“You want to be real friendly to me, man?”
“I wouldn’t mind.”
“Then please steal my job, I’m done with fucking Midtown Steel.”
Charles and Paul shared a laugh. Their howls carried into the air, slowly scaring the sky’s warm colors away. Violet night ribbons threaded through the blue. Nona noticed and compared the strands to the woman in teal. She smiled beside Paul. It was a thin expression, like an errant stitch standing out in a fabric sea.
When Charles stepped down from the porch, Nona followed. Both men tinkered with the picket fence, complaining about its dismal look. They resolved to work together to fix it. Nona learned the woman’s name was Ana, short for Anastasia, inspired by her distant Russian heritage.
Every ounce of the life Charles and Nona brought with them from Chicago was out in the open by midnight. Paul and Charles reassembled a TV stand while the women asked their men to put the leather loveseat against the wall across from it. To add to the room’s atmosphere, Ana showed Nona where to hang every brass framed photograph throughout the house. Everything was Nona’s choice, Ana reassured her, but she had to give the feng shui a try.
Once Charles and Paul pushed both halves of a dining table together, an invitation to come next door was set. The Penningtons weren’t allowed to refuse.
“Ana here—” Paul nodded toward his girlfriend. “—She’s into pasta now. Like she’s Italian. Uses sauce and everything. I’ll get some beers for you and me, one or two of those baguettes or whatever, and you’ll feel like you just went out to the harbor.”
Charles grinned from ear to ear. The Penningtons thanked Paul and Ana for the help. Nona was caught by surprise when Ana reached out and hugged her. There was a yearning in the embrace, a substance in the warm gesture. Nona returned the hug, and Charles mirrored her when his turn came.
~~~
The problem still didn’t show until later on.
Nona held fresh collard greens in her arms along with two “Thank You” cards. Charles held a chilled wine bottle. They bought everything at a nearby market named Marley’s, which they thought was a good place to shop until they saw the price tags. The Penningtons matched outfits, dressing in red and black attire, far from formal but not quite casual enough to be too relaxing.
They waited at their neighbors’ front door until Ana answered, wearing a frilly white dress with polka dots. She pressed both hands over her heart when she accepted the cards Charles handed to her; then she showed Nona to the kitchen so they could cook dinner together. Paul showed off his new Toshiba big screen to Charles in the living room. They had a common interest in football. They watched the Saturday Night Game of the Week while waiting for the meal.
Nona mentioned looking up Marley’s Market in the phone book and noticing it was nearby. Ana clicked her tongue against the inner side of her teeth.
“You don’t want Marley’s,” she said, scoffing. “Starling is much better. And cheaper. It’s a hike, even with a car, but it’s worth it.”
“We don’t have a car,” Nona said, adding seasoning to the cooked greens. “Charles sold the Grand Am to a friend in Chicago who has a used auto lot. He was generous with how much money he gave to Charles in exchange for it. It helped us fill some gaps in the move.”
Ana repeated the info over platefuls of angel hair, Nona’s greens, and buttered baguette slices. Paul fumbled with the bottle opener when Ana mentioned driving Charles downtown. He nearly spilled the wine but caught it with one of his mitt-sized hands.
“Maybe that’s why he’s next door,” Ana said. “So you two could get to know each other on the way to work. It’s spiritual. Like God or whoever put us together, right?” Ana put a hand over her mouth as though she swore. “That—that’s not weird to say, is it? God putting us together? I mean, we’re already having dinner on day two.”
“I don’t think so,” Nona said, rolling her pasta around the prongs of her fork.
“I don’t like rushing other people,” said Paul as the wine glugged out into Charles’ glass. “I don’t know what they do in the morning.”
Charles lifted a glass as if he wanted to toast them right then and there. “I’m an adjustable man. But if it’s too much, I ain’t pushing.”
“You’re not.” Paul poured wine into Nona’s glass next. “I mean…I’m asking about you, so I might as well get you downtown. Until you can get your own car. It’s no big deal.”
Paul filled his own glass next. When the wine nearly overflowed, he set the bottle down on the cloth, which dampened from droplets that trickled down to its bottom. Ana blinked at the bottle. She glanced back and forth between it and her boyfriend, who continued eating until the thought sprung up. He snatched the bottle and poured wine into her glass.
“Why aren’t you telling me?” he muttered. “You want me to do it all for you. At least grab the bottle yourself, Ana.”
“I don’t see them asking,” Ana tipped her glass in Nona’s direction, though she clearly meant both of their guests. Red droplets dribbled onto the cloth.
Paul pointed at the spill. “Now you gotta put it through the wash. Good job. We spend a whole day trying to bring folks in, and we’re talking like this? In front of them?” He looked like he tasted something bad in the pasta or the greens. The wine washed down the bad feelings, consumed in one gulp as he tilted his head back and downed it all. Paul muttered, “Goddammit,” as if it were meant to be under his breath. Nona treated it as such and said nothing more.
Everyone looked down at their plates. They worked on emptying them and filling their own stomachs. The wine was gone and the men walked wordlessly into the living room to see the rest of the game. Paul seemed to make it a point to raise the volume so the announcer and the huff of a thousand cheers drowned out the kitchen’s humble commotion.
Ana pushed wayward chunks of uneaten dinner into the garbage. Nona insisted on helping her. She soaked a stack of plates in lemon-scented suds.
“It’s like that,” Ana said. “He just gets upset over small things, is all. It’s no big deal. I do it, too.”
Nona almost put a rinsed plate into the dish rack on the linoleum countertop beside the sink. She noticed a small bit of marinara sauce still stained the rim. “Between you and me? He should have poured you a glass. I’d give Charles hell if he forgot me. You were kind.”
“I shouldn’t have lost my temper.” Ana handed her dirty dish to Nona.
“You didn’t.”
“I just cleaned the tablecloth.”
Ana looked at Nona. “I’m sorry you saw that,” she said. “I’ll be more careful next time.”
The exchange between Paul and Ana at dinner looked just like that—new neighbor jitters amplified by anxious emotions. Not a big deal at all. By early Monday morning, all was forgotten. Paul drove into town in his five-year-old Impala. Charles accompanied him, per the proposed plan. Before their commute, the men met outside the house at the picket fence between the yards. Watching from the window, Nona recalled Ana’s suggestion that God or whoever put them all together in the same place for a purpose, for a divine reason, for small moments such as this.
Ana worked as a full-time clerk at Starling Market. She passed by the Penningtons’ place before her shifts to give Nona newspaper clippings with Help Wanted Ads. When Nona mentioned her education work back in Chicago, Ana’s face brightened.
“Tons of teachers come in and out of the store,” she said. “They complain about work all the damn time. They always need help. You can help them. You could probably save anyone you meet.”
Langston Hughes Junior High School hired Nona as a fifth-grade teacher’s assistant. After a full week’s worth of classes, Nona told Ana about how uptight the middle-aged teacher was in the presence of her students. These same children crowded around ‘Ms. N,’ after Wednesday’s schedule, begging her not to quit. Apparently, it was a habit for Hughes employees to violate their contracts by abandoning them altogether.
“I can see why,” said Nona. “The children are rough. They swear, and I had to stop a few fights from happening. But the potential, Ana. All of them can be wonderful people if they just try, you know?”
The women sat out back on this particular Friday. Both of them relaxed in lawn chairs while the men watched another college game on Paul’s Toshiba. Autumn slowly trickled into The Avenue, so the wind had a bite in it. Ana leaned forward to draw in Nona’s recollection of the job. She treated each snippet like a fairy tale as if the talk brimmed with rich lessons to absorb. A lit cigarette rested between her fingers.
“They love you already,” she observed. “I can tell. You make them feel great.”
Paul and Ana made a promise at the first dinner. They vowed to help them get used to Middleton by showing them as much of it as possible. At first, the couples started small with their weekend tours. They walked in the grid system neighborhood that The Avenue itself was immersed in, passing by parks and small monuments scattered throughout the area. Once the north-central part of town was covered, more territories opened up.
Downtown was a combination of brick and metal towers overseeing chaotic roads. Still, the museums and artisanal restaurants proved themselves worthy of affection from visitors. Paul and Ana weren’t made of money, they confessed, but they wanted to treat the Penningtons and save them a little grief from the craziness that was the city. The Avenue wasn’t too friendly. What it didn’t have in crime, it made up for in reclusive hostility. No one really spoke to each other. Everyone was in and out. The Penningtons said they already believed the notion.
Nona learned the Neon District was off-limits at night, pretty as its illuminations may have looked in the dark. Ana lamented the fact because “so many good artists” opened their studios every first Friday of the month so the public could see their work. Ana wished she had a chance to do the same. She stored that part of her life away in the basement.
In her and Paul’s basement, Ana stored away many expressionist paintings. They hid in the shadowy corners of a square concrete space, surrounded by lonely cold air, cobwebs, and dust bunnies. Nona shooed the dust bunnies away from the portraits and picked up a particular picture. The mesmerizing combination of shapes and colors depicted Paul and Ana’s house in a dream-like state, as if the only reason this house stood was because Ana’s crafting of the portrait made it so.
“I wanted a studio over there.” Ana rearranged a set of clay jars sitting on a small coffee table that looked all but abandoned. “Paul said it wasn’t very practical. Artists don’t make money. They’re asking to be poor and we were hardly getting by when I thought a lot about it.” She cradled a jar with flowers carved into the surface as if it were an infant. Her thumb traced over the image in the clay. After that, she put the jar back.
“We’re still getting by now,” she said, looking at Nona with the saddest eyes. “Why try to do anything now?”
~~~
The Middleton tours ended in November. Winter hadn’t arrived yet, but snow fell on the city regardless, crowning every rooftop. Paul and Charles still commuted to Midtown Steel together, but their talks were brief and more stilted. Sometimes, they had to make a beeline to the Impala and go.
Nona and Ana barely spoke themselves. Life nipped at everyone’s heels. It caught up to them, reminding all four of them that they were never in control, ever. Nona nurtured her students through all their tears, bringing relief to the teacher she worked with. Hughes’ principal praised Nona for making such an immediate impact in the classroom.
When she came home from Hughes, she found Ana seated on the wicker couch on her porch. Her eyes stared at the other houses across The Avenue. Bags billowed beneath both her eyes.
“I called in sick to work,” Ana said, bringing a cigarette to her lips.
“What’s going on?” Nona asked, taking a seat beside Ana.
Ana took a breath before sobbing out. Tears sputtered and leaked, running down her gaunt cheeks. Her skin harbored wrinkles Nona hadn’t noticed.
“The bills built up,” Ana said. “And while I was gone for a weekend shift, Paul…he just put the paintings in the car and drove them somewhere. Pawned them off to someone for extra money.” She buried her face in her hands while Nona held her, trying to soothe her. “It’s all empty, Nona. Everything. All of it. He just…he just fucking took it all!”
“I’m so sorry, Ana.”
“…Can I stay here?” Ana lifted her face from her palms. Nona wiped away at Ana’s face until it was dry.
“Of course, you can,” Nona said. “Why would I stop you from staying?”
When Charles arrived home, sulking and smelling like sulfur, he paused at the sight of Ana sleeping in their living room. Nona pulled him aside and mentioned the problem with the artwork sold to him. Charles blinked multiple times throughout the account with his mouth agape. He shook his head and wiped at his brow. Soot smeared across his brown skin.
“We’re inviting too much into our house,” he said. “I don’t like it. It’s no good.”
“You think helping Ana is no good?” Nona asked.
“I think they need to talk it out without us taking sides.”
“He had no right to take those paintings, Charles!”
“Maybe so, but they got to talk it out.”
“He wouldn’t even listen to her.”
“Then he’s going to have to start unless he wants to lose her.” Charles reached out for his wife, holding her by the shoulders. The stringent scowl he wore fell off his face. He replaced it with a soft gaze, as gentle as the touch Nona trembled beneath.
“They have their own issues,” he said. “If we take on everyone’s burdens, Nona, we’re going to buckle and break.”
Nona shed tears of her own now, letting them dampen her face all the way down to the jaw. Charles wiped them away. “I’ll talk to him,” he said. “But after that, it’s hands-off for us both. Do you hear me?”
~~~
Charles took a while next door. He walked Ana to the other side of the picket fence, which the men had barely finished fixing before winter. The conversation with Paul was practically muffled—muted, even. Nona couldn’t discern the words, though the content had to be to the point and from the heart. It just had to be, for Ana’s sake.
When Charles returned, he said nothing. He went straight upstairs, stripped off his work uniform, and took a long shower. When Charles emerged back downstairs in more comfortable clothing, he found Nona on the couch, frozen in the house’s silence. It took all of Nona’s decency to let him hold both her hands and look at him.
“Hands off for us,” he said. “You have to let them work.”
“What did he say?”
“He knows he has to change.”
~~~
The Avenue turned quiet again. Charles took the Metro in the morning, leaving an hour before he would have with Paul driving. Nona never looked out the window but recognized the rev of the Impala’s engine, its whir, causing her skin to crawl. Ana always left a little later in the morning, close to 9 a.m., so she could catch her own Metro to Starling. A week passed before the two spoke again. Ana’s tears returned at the same time.
“The shrink isn’t working,” she said. “It started to at first, but she’s just no good, dammit. And Paul…”
Paul always stared past the therapist. He and Ana always sat on a cream-colored loveseat in a loft office downtown. Minimalist art in square frames hung on the wall behind this white-haired woman with a clipboard in hand. Easy distractions for Paul to stare at. The therapist only scribbled what Ana said. Paul rarely spoke, even when offered the most comfortable questions.
“We can’t make anything work.” The two sat at a dining table a month after their last argument, at least the last one Nona had heard of. Ana was allowed to smoke her cigarettes indoors, though Nona had to turn on the fan and open the window despite the winter weather outside.
“Do you think you’re going to…?” Nona didn’t want to say the words “break up.” It pained her to entertain the thought. She scrubbed a dish from breakfast at the sink to forget it ever came up.
Ana knew anyway. She even scoffed, snorting smoke from her nostrils. “It’s getting there.”
“Did you ever consider getting married?”
“We don’t believe in that shit.”
“It could help.”
“How?” Ana almost tapped ashes from the cigarette’s lit end but stopped her finger mid-curl. She stood up, brisked through the kitchen, and lifted the screen to smother the cigarette and toss it out. “I need to head to work. I’ll see you later on?”
A thought suddenly crossed Nona’s mind.
“Not just me,” Nona said. “The both of us. It’s been a while since we’ve been out in the city. Maybe if we get together, we can smooth it all over.”
“Charles would never agree to it.”
“I’ll tell Charles everything’s better.”
Ana paused. “You’re…you’re going to lie to him?”
“No. No, it is. You’re taking couples therapy now with him. Maybe Paul will open up if we come back together. Add stability. You never know, honey. Just think about it.”
Ana said she would. She departed after hugging Nona, whispering that it had been a long time since the get-togethers. Nona talked Charles into the plan despite his reservations.
“I’ve heard nothing bad or good from them,” Charles pointed out. “I don’t feel too comfortable. Here’s to hoping they fixed their shit.”
Nona assured Charles this was the case. The women planned for the get-together to happen on Saturday. They’d go out on the town, revisiting their favorite outings while adding new ones to the mix, places Nona had only heard about but never set foot in. In the mornings leading up to the get-together, Paul started driving Charles to work again. They laughed and talked and updated each other on what their favorite teams were doing. Not much winning, the both of them joked, not a lot of victories to speak of lately. But that was fine.
Saturday arrived. Nona went next door when the evening arrived. She wore form-fitting bell bottoms with polished brown platform shoes. She swirled her braids into a hive and chose a sleeveless blouse with black, white, yellow, red, and green colors patterned into a tie-dye style. Ana said the blouse reminded her of a kaleidoscope.
“I swear to God, it’s trippy seeing you like this,” said Ana. “My head’s spinning.”
Ana did some work as well. She styled her hair into a simple braid. A matching dress went down to the top of her knees, canopied over delicate legs, and a pair of platform shoes. Nona looked into Ana’s eyes and didn’t see any signs of crying.
They sat in the living room waiting for the men to end their shifts at work. Ana brought out a tall bottle of wine and two glasses.
“I was saving this,” Ana said. “I don’t remember what for. But I wanted to share it with Paul.”
Nona covered her mouth as Ana popped the cork off. “Is that wise?”
Ana sipped wine straight out of the bottle before filling the glasses. “He never knew it was here.”
“Ana, maybe it was for an anniversary or something.”
“It’s not a big deal. Shit, I can buy another one. One better than what we’re drinking.”
“What’s Paul going to think?”
“He wouldn’t care.”
Ana finished half her glass in the first gulp. She listed the different places the couples needed to revisit. The Neon District. Delgado Road. Bars by Harbor. If the men hurried up, Ana promised they’d make it to the places both couples had yet to visit.
“All the things you don’t know yet,” Ana said. “You need to see it all, I swear.”
Nona’s head spun after a while. The wine did too much to her blood and brain. She put down the glass and let herself rest on the living room couch.
“It’s still early,” Nona said. “One of us has to drive.”
Ana sneered but instead put the bottle away. She gathered the glasses with it, putting everything on the kitchen countertop beside the sink.
“You remember me talking about King’s Casino?” asked Ana as dishes clattered. “It’s like you’re in Vegas. People go there on nights like this, and it doesn’t matter if you’re rich or broke like we are. As long as you have some money, are old enough, and dress nicely enough.” Ana put herself on display, like she epitomized the policy, an opinion Nona didn’t refute. “They’ll take you. They’ll always take you…”
“I remember,” said Nona. “It sounds like a dream, Ana. We’ll go there. As soon as our men come.”
They kept waiting, the women. Paul and Charles’ commute was only forty-five minutes on Saturdays. Patience was required. To pass the time, the women listened to a record player hidden in a corner. Wonder, Joplin, and Hendrix didn’t bring the men back to The Avenue.
Nine-thirty arrived. The women anticipated their husbands arriving at any moment. The men would have to shower quickly and get changed, but that wasn’t going to be a big deal (“The town doesn’t come alive until about eleven anyway, Nona. Remember?”). Ten on the dot arrived, and the women fought to stay upright in their chairs. Nona toyed with her braids. Ana decided to apply makeup to her face after all.
At ten-thirty, Nona finished applying rouge to Ana’s cheeks, along with violet eye shadow and matching lipstick. Paul couldn’t resist you if he wanted to,” Nona said, hoping that it was all alright. She wondered about Charles at the same time. Did he get hurt? Was there a crash they didn’t think about? The news was a good source to use, a good way to find out what was happening in the city. One time Ana said the reports were getting grim with all the drug dealing, hookers, and murders that happened in some parts of town, especially in Midtown. Nona didn’t like the idea of flashing lights.
Nona paced in the living room eventually, trying to stay awake and alert. Midnight arrived.
Ana stood up and went to the kitchen to find the phone. Her platform shoes clicked on the hardwood floors. The sound grated Nona’s hearing, irritating her. Everything made her mad when things were happening. She sorted through scenarios, which made the knots in her body grow tighter until she couldn’t really breathe anymore.
Bright golden lights illuminated one of the house’s front windows. The glow seeped through the curtains, touching the walls. Tires screeched against gritty pavement. Two familiar voices spilled into the house as the front door swung open.
Charles cussed, and Nona thought he was mad. Then, he chuckled and seemed to slap on something hard—a back with a spine, a part of a good friend, probably on Paul’s back. The house smelled like fresh booze.
“Ana!” Charles called out. “Paul got himself going early. I’m good. Paul needs some help, though.”
Charles brought Paul into the living room. He was upright and a little sweaty a little, still in his work uniform sans except for his white hard hat. Paul was a little worse off. He wrinkled his work suit and had messy hair. His burnt gold beard looked damp. He grinned at the women before prying himself away from Charles.
“I’m almost sober,” he said. “My brain’s clearing up, Charles.”
“Bullshit. You’re slipping from me every time I start to let go. I’m having you sit.” Charles completed his promise by sprawling Paul on the couch. He turned and folded his hands toward Nona like the beggar he didn’t want to become tonight. “Baby, I’m sorry. The boys at the Mill wanted to throw a couple back and Paul wanted to get some drinks in. We all lost track of time and damn…” He shook his head. “Look, we’ll make it up to you, alright? You look too good to not go out. I hear there’s a spot a few blocks away. We can go and Ana can come with us.”
Ana’s footsteps echoed all the way into the living room. Her glance cut past Charles and focused on the couch. She danced around Nona’s husband and slapped Paul’s chest, making a hollow sound. It was followed by Paul growling.
“Goddammit…!” He slumped off the couch and splayed himself across the living room floor. Paul coughed while clutching the smarting spot. “Ana, goddammit, you’re a psychotic bitch!”
“Where were you?” Ana’s mild voice was gone.
Paul tried to hold himself up by an elbow but thudded the back of his head against the wooden floor. “Didn’t you hear Charles?”
“I didn’t hear from him or you. Neither of us did. We thought you got in a wreck or something!”
“Well, we didn’t.”
“You just left us here waiting for you! This—this happens all the time; it’s all about you, and it’s always fucking bullshit.”
Paul finally found his footing, pressing down on the couch cushions to support himself as he pulled up and stood to face Ana. He hunched while tapping his chest. He was like a gorilla, showing his feelings without a sense for words.
“I’m just having a life,” Paul said, taking huffs between some of the words. “The boys, they’re fun people. Charles’s the best of them—” He gestured to his best friend but looked at Nona. “Nona, you have a great partner. I see why you wanted to get stuck with him. I don’t want to get rid of the man; I’m jealous you got to him first.” He smiled and laughed. Nona’s stomach shriveled to the size of a pit.
“Don’t look at her—don’t talk to her!” Ana pulled on her hair and ran both hands down her face. “Fuck you. Fuck you, Paul.”
Ana slapped her boyfriend hard across the face, making him sit down. Maybe it was the force of the strike or Paul’s surprise that put him down on the cushions., but it was definitely a moment where Charles had to get between the two of them before anything got worse. Ana reached out at Paul, trying to claw at him. Charles pushed her toward Nona, gently lifting her from the ground to the point that it looked like she was floating.
In Nona’s arms, Ana’s thrashing halted. She slumped into the embrace, trembling and crying. Nona started shushing her and thought about what had to happen next, as well as when they could all try again.
The floor rattled. Paul cursed Ana in a loud voice and when Nona opened her eyes, he charged at them both. He pushed Ana in the back. Both women toppled on top of one another, crashing to the living room carpet below. Nona didn’t know the coffee table was behind her until her back bounced off it like a rubber mallet.
Charles was always mild-mannered and slow to anger. People knew him for his joy and smiles. His heart always softened to everyone, so long as they respected him and his. Once, Paul did the very least to avoid conflict with Charles; they got along and Paul didn’t lay a hand on Ana, at least not one Charles knew of. Then, both women fell, and this changed.
Nona phased in and out of Charles, tackling Paul from behind. Her vision went black after that. She came to right afterwards and Charles buried a fist in Paul’s face. Blood spurted from Paul’s mouth. Charles cussed Paul out. Paul feebly apologized between blows.
“I…I got pissed,” he said. “When I drink, I…I…”
Charles kept pummeling him. Paul didn’t fight back. Nona crawled away from the foot of the coffee table. She didn’t notice the broken glass until her palm got cut by a wayward shard. It dug into the center of the skin, making her bleed. The stain spread on the glass before more crimson trickled from the wound down to her wrist. Her braids felt wet as well.
“Charles…” Nona barely heard herself. Charles kept striking Paul’s face with his fists. “Charles…stop…CHARLES.”
Charles darted his head in Nona’s direction. She saw his eyes widen. Nona must have looked worse than she thought. As soon as Charles stopped beating on Paul, Nona began blacking out.
“We…get you…Lake Valley.”
Charles was like a radio. In and out in a static storm, never quite sounding clear. Physically close but also far away.
Nona reached up to Charles, knowing he’d pick her up. She didn’t want to. She felt limp as Charles carried her to Paul’s Impala. He took out the keys, which Paul must have handed over after he got drunk. After he put her in the car, went inside the vehicle himself and started the engine, Charles held Nona’s hand. He felt so warm.
They must have been under the limit. No one stopped them. Every honk of a horn or skid of some tires whispered. Charles’s voice became a little louder.
“Just stay awake,” he said. “Stay awake for me, OK?”
Nona stared at the city’s blurred lights. She kept grasping at Charles’ hand, trying to keep her senses alert. As hard as she tried to make her grip, her husband’s touch proved stronger. Nona didn’t know who wanted to hold on more. She tried to speak, but Charles softly shushed her.
“Just…awake.” The static storm returned. Charles looked worried and a little older. He fixed his sight on the road. “Awake…alive.”
But you don’t understand, Nona thought. I’m so sorry. You were right. They couldn’t be fixed. What was I thinking, Charles? Why didn’t we just walk…?
Nona fought to speak. When she did, her voice sounded muffled. Her hearing started to go as well. She tried to tell Charles she loved. The world went dark. Charles’ touch intensified before she faded.
~~~
The doctor diagnosed Nona with a mild concussion despite the gash in the back of her head. She was very lucky, given the circumstances. Falling backward in her own home, unprovoked by a mere rug, was rather unfortunate. It could have been worse. The doctor had seen much worse, he said. Nona didn’t contradict the lie he came to believe.
In the hospital, Nona stared at the room’s ceiling. She was dressed into a gown and had to let her dreadlocks down. They spread across the hospital mattress like a blanket of beads. Machines droned out their beeps, pulsating Nona’s senses. Charles hunched over her bedside, leaning forward in a chair.
Nona pressed a hand on Charles’ cheek. Her eyes were wet.
“Why did you lie for them?” Nona asked.
Charles talked about how Ana said Paul’s name while he was carrying Nona out of the house. He glanced back, wanting to urge her away from Paul so she could be safe.
Before he could utter a word, Paul’s head rested on Ana’s lap. Ana bawled over Paul, who reached up and caressed Ana’s right cheek. He thumbed away the tears. Charles heard him mumbling in his drunken stupor, his voice as feeble as it had been when he tried to explain why he had to push his friend’s wife along with her. Paul probably listed excuses, said bullshit like “I love you,” and made up with her.
Charles said he’d seen that before. The bad cycle of love and hate, where one can’t tear themselves away from the other, even if the union killed them. Charles never went through it in any way, least of all with Nona. However, he witnessed it. Charles’ parents never beat him with a belt but trained him to be strong and learn certain hard truths through another’s eyes. Better to be wise while learning than unwise while suffering.
It was best to leave Paul and Ana alone. Charles said. Nona silently turned away. She heard Charles ask her not to be like that, please. She needed to understand. What happened to her wasn’t her fault, but what happened in that house wasn’t right either. They did their best, and now they had to move forward.
Nona still struggled with her hearing. Her vision mildly recovered. The world was more discernible. She stared out the room’s lone window, which had the cleanest panel of glass Nona had ever seen. The distant sights weren’t warped like other windows. It was as if the window was filtered while in shards, only to be pieced back together to complete the puzzle of a city.
There were so many places she had yet to see. In the distance, there was a hill. That must have been the one she could find on the way to Harrison. Harrison was one of the suburbs she and Charles spoke of. It had a history of breaking color lines, of letting black couples like them live there. They always wanted to feel welcome, and Harrison would have been nice.
Maybe Ana would have taken her there. She seemed to know so much. Nona was looking forward to going into the casino on the hill first, though. She wanted to feel like royalty. She wanted to feel the velvet carpets beneath her feet and absorb the sounds. Her hands would have fit well into Ana’s, as they always had in the past. They could have walked through the city for hours on end, finding new places together and understanding the thrill of what it meant to explore.//
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Gabriel Mambo was born in Washington D.C., and grew up in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. He earned his Bachelor of Arts at the University of South Dakota in 2013, as well as his MFA in Creative Writing, Fiction at Emerson College (Boston, MA) in 2021. He previously published work in Red Fez (where this piece was originally published), Unstamatic, and the Piker Press. Gabriel currently resides in Brooklyn, New York, with his wife Shawday.
About the Author
