Boy Kills Man (7 page)

‘Show me that.'

‘What?'

‘The stereo dumbass.' Jairo gestured at the beat box, then waved me closer. He seemed a little unsteady, not drunk but on the way. ‘Let me see what we have here.'

‘It's mine,' I said, thinking if I handed it over I'd never see it again.

‘Sure it's yours.' He paused to take a slug from the bottle. ‘So my brother's boy has turned to
thievery
now? I knew this day would come.'

‘I didn't steal it,' I said hotly. ‘It's a gift from Alberto. He sort of … bought it for me.' The more I tried to explain myself, the worse it sounded. I began to wish I had told him to mind his own business, but it was too late for that now.

‘So what? Is Alberto your boyfriend all of a sudden?' Jairo seemed amused for a second, but then he started coughing and that wiped the smile from his face. Finally, he grabbed enough breath to demand the stereo. ‘C'mon, Sonny, are you deaf as well as queer?'

‘Turn down the TV and I might be able to hear you insult me a bit better!' For a beat, it seemed like even the women on the screen fell silent. Jairo just looked up at me, no longer coughing but wheezing heavily, and then made a vague attempt to stand.

‘Do you need your cane?' I asked, hoping to gloss over what had just been said.

My uncle nodded, eyes down now, supporting himself with one hand on the table. ‘That would be good,' he said, and stayed stooped there as I fetched it for him.

I didn't think either of us wanted to fall out all the time. It seemed so pointless, a war that neither of us could win because we'd only destroy my mother. I collected the cane from the corner of the room, and guided both his hands to the crook.

‘Just take it easy and get your breath back.'

He thanked me twice, reached up to his full height, and for a moment I thought he was falling into me.

The blow got me in the chest – a two-fisted sock with the crook in-between that knocked me off my feet. I fell back into the curtain, bringing it down with me. The stereo hit the floor at the same time, and that was when my uncle started yelling over the TV.

‘How dare you play the big man with me, Sonny! When will you learn that I'm the man here, understand? I … am … the man!'

I knew he was going to hit me again. I thrust out my hand, but he kicked it away. Uncle Jairo had a clear advantage, and not just because he was standing over me. He got me in the balls next, so hard I curled up like a salted slug. The pain swam into my stomach, up my back, and left me writhing pathetically. Even though my uncle was sick, I was no match when his fury took a hold.

‘
I pity your father, giving birth to a loser like you
…'

He cursed and swore at me with every strike, and went on to scream about my mother, too. He was careful to avoid my face, I realised, but I only had two hands and that wasn't enough to shield the rest of my body.

Then he began to use his shoe heel to stamp on me, and I thought about the gun.

I could feel it underneath me, digging into my back. A voice in my head screamed at me to reach round for it and take out that sucker. There was no way I would let him finish me off like this, after all. I wasn't going to leave the world in the same way as that thief had left Galliano's store. I was a fighter. And like Alberto, I just wanted to be safe.

‘You stupid, goddam son of a whore
…
'

I knew I was capable of squeezing the trigger, but I had made a promise to my friend. That's why I kept reminding myself that this was just a punishment. Jairo wasn't dumb enough to kill me here, or leave a mark I couldn't hide, so I bunched up as best I could until he had finished.

‘Damn it, now the stereo is bust,' he wheezed eventually, and gave me one last, half-hearted kick. ‘Why is everything made so bad these days?'

I heard him drop back into the chair, and wrestle with his inhaler. The women on the TV were still arguing, the audience behind them now. I didn't move from the floor. The pain from where he'd caught me in the
huevas
had turned my stomach to stone, and my sides felt like they'd come apart if I stopped hugging myself. All I could do was fight for breath, just like my uncle, and feel the curtain underneath my cheek grow damp with tears.

‘I'm sorry that it's come to this,' I heard him say next, only to break off and cough into his fist again. ‘Just show some respect in future. You're twelve years old, damn it. A kid your age shouldn't have to be told twice. Just because you're smart, doesn't mean you can be a smartass, understand? Your mother thinks you got an old man's head on your shoulders, but I don't hear old men going on and on and on. They know when to shut the hell up, Sonny. How else do you think they get to their age?'

When I felt sure that he was through with me, I crawled off the curtain and took myself to bed. I couldn't say whether I passed out straight away or a long time later. Either way, all I could hear was those two women warring – the volume racked up by another notch.

I stirred next morning to hear Uncle Jairo and Alberto at the door. I didn't open my eyes, just listened. My uncle was speaking in a forced whisper, and seemed annoyed that Alberto wouldn't follow his example.

‘Sonny had a bad night and needs to sleep,' Jairo was saying. ‘I'm sure he'll call on you when he wakes.'

‘Please,' Alberto piped up again. ‘It's important that I see him now.'

‘Will you ‘keep the noise down!' hissed my uncle. ‘If you disturb his mother too, then God help you. Now stop being a prick and go home.'

I wanted to get out of bed, but my body didn't feel right. Sure enough, when I tried to sit up a charge flashed across my chest that reminded me what had happened. Next I heard Alberto click his tongue and tell my uncle he'd be waiting for me. By the time I made it out of bed, Jairo was back behind the kitchen table. He was wearing his spectacles, and had the stereo in front of him. One side of the plastic housing was all smashed, and he was covering it with strips of parcel tape.

‘Your boyfriend called,' he said, without even looking across.

‘He isn't my boyfriend. Please, Uncle Jairo.'

‘Whatever.'

I stood there clutching my sides, feeling too weak for another fight, and turned to look in on my mother. Their room was on the other side of the curtain divide, and I was surprised to see the bed empty.

‘I heard you say she was sleeping.'

‘Maybe I did.' Jairo chuckled to himself. ‘Whatever Alberto thinks of me, I'm damn sure he respects your Mamá.'

‘So where is she?'

‘Out.' He looked up at me, startled at what he saw, and quickly returned to his work. Why don't you go back to bed, Sonny? Rest yourself a while.'

‘What time did she come home last night?'

‘She'll be home later, Sonny.'

‘Uncle Jairo—'

‘That's
enough!
' he slapped his hand on the table. It made the stereo jump as well as me. ‘Why do you have to cross me all the time, huh? She's probably at church, OK? Praying for your sorry soul.'

‘Probably? I don't believe you.'

‘Fine. You want the truth? She didn't come home at all last night. Seems she likes her job too much. Now get out of my sight, because I swear I'm in no mood to be reasonable today, and when your mother does get in she'll be sorry, just like her son.'

I was thankful that Alberto answered the door when I called for him, and not Beatriz. I was in the same clothes as the day before, the gun still strapped in the holster. In truth I wasn't sure I could get it off. I had been too dazed to try the night before. Now the searing pain in my ribs stopped me from finding the buckle.

‘Sonny!' he said brightly, and stepped aside for me. ‘Your uncle said you'd had a bad night. Are you ill? You look like you've been puking, the face on you.'

‘It's nothing like that.'

I heard him close the door behind me, and winced when he clapped me on the back. ‘So, what happened?'

‘I had some problems getting to sleep, I suppose.'

‘Told you.' Alberto invited me to sit down at the table, grinning as he took the chair opposite. ‘Man, that gun is guaranteed to keep you staring at the ceiling all night, but I appreciate you taking it. I slept like a big old baby. It was sweet, some of the things I dreamed about.' And that's where he stopped, because I wasn't laughing with him. ‘Do you want some coffee?' he asked. ‘Everyone is out this morning. I figured we should bring the stereo down, or maybe watch some cartoons for a while.'

‘Sure,' I said, thinking I might cry. I tried hard not to meet Alberto's eye, but he was waiting for me to look at him. When I glanced up finally, he swore under his breath.

‘The gun. You've still got it.'

‘Of course.' I patted my side to reassure him. ‘Alberto, stop staring at me like that. Everything is fine.'

Alberto blinked and stepped back at last. ‘Well, I appreciate you looking after it. If you ever want me to do something for you, just say the word.' At the same time, he gestured for me to hand it over. I bit into my lip and reached around for the clasp to the holster.

‘Here, let me help you with that.'

Before I could stop him, Alberto had come round beside me. I tried to stop him from lifting my top to find the buckle, and that's when he just took over.

‘Mother of God, what has happened to you?'

‘Nothing.' I tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let go.

‘Sonny, those bruises … was it Jairo?'

‘No!'

‘Yes, it was. Of course it was him! Don't lie to me, Sonny!'

‘I can handle it,' I pleaded, again when he snatched the pistol from the holster. ‘
Please,
Alberto!'

I tried to grab his arm, but he shook me off. I knew where he was heading as he stormed from the apartment, and a wave of shame and panic crashed over me. My friend had the gun now, and I had nothing. Not even my pride.

‘Open this door.' Alberto was standing outside my apartment, looking strangely calm as he waited for me to let him in. Keeping up had been a struggle, but somehow it felt like I was under orders now. I had barely twisted the key full circle before my friend burst in so forcefully the door slammed back against the inside wall.

‘What the hell is this?' Jairo was still at the table. He didn't leave his seat to confront him, however, but to back away. My uncle had yet to hang the curtain again, which gave him a clear view of Alberto advancing on him with the gun in his hand. ‘Jesus Christ!' He ripped off his glasses, as if they had just fogged on him. Tell me that isn't real!'

‘Sit down.'

Ignoring the request, and panicked by this locomotive coming across the room, Jairo grabbed the roll of parcel tape and flung it at him. The roll hit Alberto in the face, but it was my uncle who shrank away as if he had taken the blow himself.

‘Let's talk this through sensibly. Put the gun down, my friend. I'm begging you!'

‘Yeah? Begging is all you're good for, little man.'

By now my uncle had backed into the corner beside the window. He was clawing at the wall, looking for any way out. If Alberto was here to scare him some, he had done his job already.

‘Please, Sonny,' he cried, appealing to me now. ‘I'm sorry for what happened last night, really I am. I was a little drunk and I will never forgive myself, but please don't let it come to this.
Please!
'

Once again my uncle's chest got the better of him, and he broke into a volley of coughs that sounded like sobbing. Alberto went closer and put a hand on his shoulder.

‘Calm down,' he ordered, and promptly slipped the muzzle of the gun inside his mouth. Immediately, my uncle stopped coughing and started whimpering instead. Just relax, Jairo, do you hear? Don't cry. Don't let yourself down. Be cool.'

‘Alberto, cool it yourself!' I wanted to haul him away, but it was plain that nothing would stop him now.

‘Chew on it,' he suggested quietly, like this was a medicine. ‘That's right. Yeah. Now we understand each other.'

I was standing beside the curtains, afraid I might collapse all over again. Jairo looked at me with eyes wide and white, and began to sink to the floor. I realised Alberto was guiding him down, putting pressure on the gun until he had him on his back.

There, he cocked the hammer, said: ‘You're probably wondering if I can use this, huh?'

‘Oh God, no.' I began shaking my head. ‘Brother, please don't.'

‘Let me tell you,' he went on, ‘I had some serious doubts myself, but they made my first hit easy for me. The guy I had to cap was strapped to a fence, all beat up and spread out like a chicken. You know what they did to him next, Jairo?' He paused, and with his free hand traced a finger across his throat. ‘They sliced him. Man, they went from ear to ear. I watched the whole thing, didn't see I had a choice, even when they pulled his tongue down through the wound so it's hanging out like a necktie. I had no idea something like that could be done. I didn't understand how anyone could even think of such a thing! So, I'm looking at this poor guy as he suffocates on himself. He's trying to scream but it just makes the blood bubble … and that's when they told me to whack him.'

This was Alberto we were listening to here. My best friend from way back, telling us the story in such detail I wondered if this was the first time he had ever put it into words. It felt like we were hearing some kind of unbearable confession, something you wouldn't even dare reveal to a priest.

Alberto glanced over his shoulder, said, ‘Sonny, you have to understand I didn't
want
to cap the poor guy. I didn't want to kill
anyone.
But the way they had got him already, it was the kindest thing to do. He was dying there, a slow, humiliating death, right in front of all these people.'