There are no words, barely any sounds from either of us, but the car is talking. It squeaks and rumbles, like it is coming alive in the face of our bodies and I almost wish it would begin to drive itself, take me to the top of the hills and let me see the bay spread out farther than my eyes will ever be able to travel. The car stays in its spot, rocking slightly. Tony is a shadow out the window and I am a mass of limbs.
Davon hasn’t looked at me since he let go of my hand. When he finishes, he stares back at me, but his eyes are a slick gloss, a floating body. He doesn’t see me.
Climbing out of the car, I stumble, forgetting the height of these heels. I lean back into the car and he hands me a bundle of cash, sets it right into my palm, just like Polka Dot. I count it. It’s only fifty bucks, not even close to what Polka Dot paid me.
“Where’s the rest?”
“You ain’t worth no more than that.” He doesn’t look at me, just gives a small grunt. “But you was good. I can give you some of my cousins’ numbers, get you some more business.”
Davon inputs new numbers into my phone and I straighten up, begin walking back to International. I tell myself I’ll ask for the money up front next time, make sure I’m not getting ripped off. Now that it is over, everything feels muted. The windchill a little less cold, my heartbeat barely audible, my skin numb, asleep. Just a body. Just sex.
I cross the street to Tony’s side and stop. He walks out of the shadows of a maple tree and his hands are stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie like a frustrated child. I take the cash out of my bra and hand it to Tony, knowing he loves me enough to watch me survive, to give him my everything without worrying about him running. If that ain’t some shit my uncle would be ashamed of.
“Kiara, can I ask you something?” Tony’s voice is a shudder in a tornado of quiet. His hoodie has the name of a college I’ve never heard of in blocked letters and I realize I don’t even know if Tony been to college.
I nod to him because no is not an answer to this question.
His bottom lip moves side to side.
“If I, uh, got me a job—a real one, you know—and saved up for a while, would you let me take care of you? Like real talk take care of you, like a man takes care of a woman?”
He drifts into a mumble and I wobble on one of my heels, trying to balance, trying to find an escape. It don’t make sense to me why he’s asking this now, when I am still tender from Davon’s thrusts, barely clothed and vulnerable.
“We both know it ain’t like that. It ain’t that simple. I got Marcus to think about.” Marcus doesn’t even realize how his life would dissolve without me paying for rent, his phone bill.
“Just ’cause it ain’t simple don’t mean it gotta be complicated.”
“We talking blood, Tony.”
“That ain’t everything.” His fingers start to grasp for mine and then still.
“When everything else goes to shit, he’s all I got. And me and you can’t never be that, you know?”
Tony don’t even nod this time, don’t say a word. Instead, he reaches into the pocket of his hoodie and pulls out the cash, pushes it back into the creases of my palms. He shadows himself until he’s nothing but dark and I know he’s not even there no more but I can’t help thinking that he’s watching, waiting. If Tony don’t wait for me, then no one will.
I spin around, back to International, solo walking. And, God almighty, when it all goes to shit, Marcus better be my shadow. He better be my everything.
The sound of splashing wakes me up at noon. It’s foreign to me here, the water thrash noises both recognizable and out of place. Something’s always waking me up in the height of my happy, right when my dream begins to dance. During last night’s sleep, which really didn’t start till four a.m., I dreamed up this meadow with flowers that exist in colors I’ve never seen in person. I could hear this melodic soundtrack, this Van Morrison kind of blues, and I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from until I lay down in the flowers and realized it was coming straight from the sky. And then I was laughing because the sky was singing to me. God walked out the clouds like music. I was naked. I am always naked. And then there was a splash, bright midday through the shades, this empty apartment.
I stumble up from the mattress, swinging open the door and hanging my torso off the railing, so my body splits in two at the stomach: legs and breasts. Crust crumbles out my eyelids as I stare down into the pool, the scene materializing like a television turning from static to moving image. Trevor’s head bobs up and down, in and out of the water. He’s tall enough now to stand in the shallow end, but continues to dip his head under, moving it around; circles of boy turned fish.