“？Oye, tienes hambre?” George had finished with the magazines and had moved aside the glass bottles. “Man, I’m starving. You know.”
Unu got up and helped George transfer the bundles of magazines to the other side of the wall. George didn’t stop him from helping. Kathleen always let her shy dinner guests work in the kitchen. She’d tell them to wash the lettuce or slice the tomatoes, no different from instructing her second graders; it was good to keep busy, important to feel useful—she’d say. They finished moving the bundles in a few minutes.
“I got meat loaf sandwiches in my cooler. I don’t know why she complains about this”—George patted the curve of his belly rising above his brown workman belt—“when she’ll go on and pack me like three sandwiches to eat in the middle of the night. Makes no sense, right? Women.” He checked to see if Unu was smiling. He wasn’t. The hermano was very low, but it wasn’t like he had no reason. “C’mon, man, you should have dinner with me. Keep me company. What, Mr. College too good to hang out with the porter?” He winked at Unu.
“The porter is too good to hang out with a bum like me.”
“Man, you are feeling like shit.” George looked at Unu tenderly, put out his fist, and hit him lightly on the shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay. You’ll work it out. You will work it out.”
Unu nodded to be polite.
“So you want a sandwich or what?”
“No, George. But thank you, though. I really. . . really appreciate it.” Unu swallowed. “That’s very kind of you.”
George reached into his back pocket. He had at least two hundred in twenties and fifties and a thick packet of singles in his front pocket from the tips he’d made from the residents of 178 East Seventy-second St. “You got money?”
“I’m flush.” A hundred bucks wouldn’t cover a cheap motel in Manhattan.
“You sure?” George looked Unu square in the eye.
“Yeah.”
“What happened, man? I mean, I don’t mean to be nosy. You know, I respect your privacy, man, but—”
“It’s complicated, George,” he said, but it wasn’t really, was it? He’d gambled and lost a lot of money. And losses led to more.
“Was it that girl?” George believed that Unu had been doing well until he’d met that girl. In the beginning, she was okay, and he’d seemed happy, but then George saw her in that taxi with that Anglo. A woman cheating could fuck a man up. A few years back, a quiet guy from the neighborhood set himself on fire when his girlfriend slept with his best friend. “That stuck-up tall girl. Casey what’s-her-name.”
“Nothing to tell, George. Nothing to tell.” Unu closed the folding chair and returned it to the spot where George had taken it from. He turned back to his friend and raised his hand. The men slapped their open palms first, then shook hands heartily. George reached out his left hand and tapped Unu’s right arm.
“You going?”
Unu nodded. “You’re a good man, George. I got some calls to make.”
Unu walked away without turning back. Mercifully, the elevator car was still waiting so he wouldn’t have to stay in the basement a moment longer. His friend’s mentioning of Casey had cut him unexpectedly. It was near midnight.
David Greene answered the door. His feet were bare, but he was dressed in a white button-down shirt and jeans.
“Hey, it’s good to see you,” David said.
“I’m really sorry to bother you,” Unu said. There was no sign of his cousin in the living room. “But Ella said that it would be okay if I dropped by—”
“She’s coming right out. She was putting something in the oven right after you called.”
Unu’s large hands swung uncomfortably from side to side. The fingers on his right hand would occasionally tap against his right thigh like a keyboard. David had seen this before. In fact, from his prison writing students. He almost wished he had a cigarette to offer a man who did not know what to do with his hands. “Come on in. Please. I was just about to leave, but—”
“I ruined your night.”
“No. We just had some dinner, and we were both wide awake. Talking about the wedding . .”
Unu nodded. “Right. Right. I’m really happy for you.”
“Thanks,” David said. The man looked as though his heart were shattered.
Ella came out of the kitchen carrying a wooden tray bearing a teapot, blue striped mugs, and a plate of corn muffins she’d recovered from the freezer and heated through. She set the tray on the coffee table, then sat close to her cousin.