Boy Kills Man (9 page)

A frantic match was in progress when I turned up, but as bits of me had begun to ache again I chose to watch from the swings on the other side of the drain. They had been there since before I was born. Whoever was responsible must have figured we would put up with anything if it gave us a chance to get away from the grown-up world for a while. The stink out here was revolting, even the breeze refused to carry it away, which forced you to breathe through your mouth. Maybe that's why Alberto asked what was with the sour face when he showed me the design that adorned almost the whole of his back.

‘Sonny, I'm relying on you here. I can't see it with my own eyes.'

‘And I can't believe it with mine!' I declared, feeling shocked to the core for a second time that day. ‘Who did this to you?'

‘You make it sound like they held me down against my will. Man, it was an
honour!
I came clean about the missing bullet, and the boss said he respected my honesty. I thought I might be in some trouble, even when I explained that your uncle deserved to be punished after what he had done, but you know what? He took it all in and told the guys what a fine young man I was shaping up to be. That's when he took me for the tattoo. He arranged everything up front, kept saying how far I'd come these last weeks, and stayed at my side all the way through.'

The way he went on about this guy, I thought – like it was his father all over again.

‘Did it hurt?' I asked, thinking it would've killed me.

‘Like all Hell,' he said with a grin, his voice cracking in the excitement, ‘but I swear I didn't cry. I held it together until the cab ride home, and just told the driver I was happy.'

‘Are you?'

‘Sonny,' he said, sounding offended now, ‘don't you know what this means?'

I pushed back on the swing to think about it. ‘Let me see it again,' I said finally. Alberto slipped the shirt down to his elbows and turned for a second inspection. Once more, I found myself looking at the two grand black outlines on his back. Each started from a point midway up his spine, fanned to his shoulder blades and then swept down to his waist.

‘Angel wings,' I said, just as I had the first time. Then, I had assumed someone had taken a marker pen to him. Now I looked again, I saw the skin was raw like sunburn. It looked painful, especially where the holster strap crossed over, but Alberto seemed numb to any pain. ‘Oh boy,' I declared, ‘this is gonna
kill
your Mamá.'

‘Which is why I bought myself the shirt.' Alberto came round proudly and buttoned himself back into it. ‘She won't know,' he said, and tried to drop his voice a notch, ‘less some fool tells her.'

‘Get real! You can hide it for a week maybe, but what about the rest of your life?' I looked up from my seat on the swing, expecting some kind of explanation, but all he did was shrug.

For the first time ever, we had nothing to say to each other. I sensed Alberto felt as awkward as I did, because we both turned our attention to the soccer on the strip opposite. The last thing I wanted was to talk about what had happened at the apartment. Alberto appeared to have moved on like it was no big deal, and I didn't want him thinking I was still shaken. The gun, and now this tattoo, was turning my friend into a stranger to me. I had sometimes seen other boys floating around the
barrio
with black wings like his – always folded in the same way, as if primed to spread wide. Whatever was going on in Alberto's life, there was no way on earth I could say how much I envied him.

‘Let's play some football,' he suggested next, and shook out his limbs like he was busting to get going. ‘What do you say, Sonny? I feel like I could
fly
with the ball now I got these on my back.'

‘Nah.' I patted my ribs. ‘Everything hurts when I move. I'll be fine real soon, but I should take it easy for now. I want to be in good shape for the big match, even if we are just watching it.'

Alberto said that was a damn shame, and fished around in his jeans pocket.

‘Still got my ticket?' he asked, and I said sure. Then he came back with a silver wrap from a stick of gum, all folded up at the edges. ‘You can finish this, if you like. I don't mind losing it to you.'

‘What is it?' I asked, knowing I was holding a powder of some kind.

‘Something to make you feel brave,' was all he said, because next thing he winked at me and charged into the match. I watched him leap the drain with both arms flung open, already yelling at the kids on the other side. I smiled to myself, and opened up the wrap. Inside was a small amount of white speckled powder. If this was cocaine, I thought to myself, Alberto would've sold it already. Like a lot of kids, we had grown up believing the cash you could get for this stuff was worth more than the kick. It was a drug for people with too much money, we decided, and you could never have enough of that. Even so, I didn't want to hassle my friend about what I had here in case he laughed at me for not trusting him.

The breeze was stirring it a bit so I cupped the wrap and dabbed some with my fingertip. It was chalky but bitter-tasting, and sort of crackled on my tongue. Then a shout went up from the match, and I looked across to see that Alberto was holding his own already. He had bundled his way into possession and was moving with such a purpose I wondered if those wings of his actually
had
blessed him in some way. He seemed so focused as he took a long, wild shot for goal, and would've seemed invincible to me had it not been for a superhuman keeper. I just wish I had kept my wits about me in the same way. For when I looked down into my hands again, all the powder had been blown away.

I began to have some trouble sleeping. It wasn't just the bruises or the memory of what had happened in the apartment that haunted me. What kept me awake most of all was Saturday. The most important fixture of my life had almost arrived, and I could barely wait! I'd lie in my bed, listening to the late night match previews that Jairo kept tuning in to watch. He was a big fan, too, but I didn't dare tell him we owned tickets for the match. He'd only try to steal them from me, most probably when I nodded off. I doubted he would knock me about to get his way ever again. Alberto had guaranteed that for me. I was only sorry that I hadn't sorted it out myself.

Mamá knew that something had gone down between us. Of course she did. Normally, she was never around when things went off, like a row or a fight, but a gunshot was different because of the damage done. The afternoon I returned from the scrub, it was clear that she and Jairo had been arguing about how such a thing could happen – here in her own home and with a gun he couldn't produce. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, despite the make-up she had put on for work, while my uncle had clearly found some peace now he had a prescription for painkillers. He just sat there with his bandaged foot propped on the table, like that was a reason for sympathy not scorn. Still, Mamá did kiss me on both cheeks before leaving for the evening, and said that she would always be proud of me no matter what. She had hugged me, too, so hard I thought I might cry out and give everything away. Over her shoulder I had seen Jairo watching me, and I reckon he was impressed that I kept it together.

We didn't talk much, even after she went out to work. I wasn't very hungry, but I fried up some plantain just to keep my uncle sweet. We ate it with cold rice in front of a documentary about Nacional in the Eighties. There had been lots of footage that showed the stadium packed to full capacity. It was a riot of green and white. Some fans could be seen holding flares that showered coloured sparks over the balconies while everyone just sang and danced and pledged their support to the finest team on earth. I couldn't wait.

‘Look closely,' Jairo had said with his mouth full, and gestured at the screen with the fork. ‘You might see your old man in the crowd. He never missed a match.'

By Friday, I had forgotten all about my aches and pains. With only one more sleepless night to get through, I was in high spirits when I called for Alberto. There was every chance that he wouldn't be in, I knew that, but then I had come to look forward to the moment when Beatriz answered the door. Even if she was in a rush to get ready for college, she always made time for me.

‘Sonny, why don't you just move in with us? I see more of you than my own brother these days.'

What she said made me think of that moment when I had seen more of Beatriz than she ever intended, and all of a sudden I was looking at my shoes. It was only then I realised that she hadn't greeted me with her usual smile. In fact, she had sounded quite prickly. I felt uneasy, standing there. Too shy to meet her eyes again.

‘I'm sorry,' I said, for no particular reason, but once again with her it seemed like the right thing.

‘Don't be,' was all she said until she had my full attention. ‘I'm sorry, too.' Now I really did feel alarmed. The way she had appealed to me just then, it could only be that Beatriz had Alberto in mind. Over recent weeks she had given up pressing me about him, and I almost thought she was warming to me. I would ask if she knew where he had gone, knowing damn well that she had no idea, and then she would tease me about how I might survive another day in my own company. I didn't mind, even when it became a regular joke for her, because when she laughed she did so with me. It was never at my expense. Looking at her now though, I saw no hint of sunshine in her expression – only storm clouds brewing quietly. I couldn't even bring myself to ask after Alberto this time, because I had a strong sense she had seen right through me.

‘I shouldn't be here,' was all I could think to say, and began to retreat from the door.

‘Sonny, if you knew something you'd tell me, like you promised, wouldn't you?'

‘
Adios,
Beatriz.' I hated myself for doing this, but I just couldn't betray him. Alberto was my brother as much as hers, even if it meant leaving her looking lost in her own home. I took another step back, and that's when her eyes became shiny and wet.

‘He's got a gun,' she blurted out.

‘What?'

‘He wears it under his shirt.' She stopped there, swallowed hard but it was too late. Her whole face just melted, and when she tried to speak again her voice broke up. ‘He's my little brother, Sonny. Alberto's just a baby!'

‘He'll be fine,' I said weakly, and again because I didn't think she had heard me. Beatriz looked so pathetic, trying to get a grip but failing completely. I could feel my own throat tighten, my mouth beginning to twitch, and when I spoke her name no sound came out. I had to do something, but I didn't know what until she dropped her hand from the door and moved towards me.

Only one woman ever hugged me before, though Beatriz felt very different to my mother. I found myself pressed to her chest with her hand in my hair, and my shirt growing damp with tears.

‘Oh, Sonny,' I heard her sob. ‘What has happened? All night I've been going out of my mind with worry, but I can't confront Alberto. He'd just take off, I know it, and then we'd lose him completely.'

‘Beatriz—'

‘You have to talk to him, make him see sense. He listens to you.'

‘
Stop
this! Leave me be!'

Beatriz pulled away smartly. She looked shocked, like I had just bared my teeth and tried to take a bite out of her throat. I was shaking, still flared up because I had felt so smothered and defenceless. I wiped my cheeks with the heel of my hand, ashamed to be like this in front of her.

‘Please help us,' she said, quieter now, one hand reaching out to me, but I'd had enough. I wheeled around and fled for the stairs.

‘Alberto can go to Hell!' I yelled when she appealed to me again, and rushed headlong into the street. A car horn blared but I ignored it, and some pigeons scattered from my path. I just had to get away at all costs, if only to escape the feeling that I had woken up in my friend's bad dream.

‘So, what's on your mind?' This was Alberto himself, later in the day. I had heard him come into Galán's store and ask after me. I was in the back room, sugaring peanuts and bagging them up. It was the only work on offer at such short notice, but I had taken it anyway. I needed the money. I also knew that Alberto would hunt me down and I wanted him to see me in business. ‘Stop that for a moment and talk to me,' he said, trying again. ‘I believe there must be some kind of problem because you're here busting your balls for a couple of pesos.'

‘It's still work,' I told him, glowering when he helped himself. ‘There's no problem here.'

Alberto faced me from the other side of the table. Through the gap in the door behind him, I could see Galán behind his counter. He was hunched over a magazine, reading it so closely I just knew that he hoped to hear every word we said. Still, I needed this job. It was all I had now, and I blamed my friend for this.

‘Sonny,' he said next, ‘don't play me for a fool here. I heard you had a shouting match with Beatriz.'

‘Huh?'

I looked up in surprise. Alberto nodded like it all made sense. Coolly, he tossed a peanut to catch in his mouth, only to miss completely. We both smiled despite ourselves, even if it was just for a moment.

‘Everyone knows everybody's business in our block,' he went on, like maybe I had told him this myself one time. ‘I hadn't even opened the door before the neighbour came out to give me grief because my big sister and best buddy had been yelling at each other in the hall. People only choose not to hear gunfire, Sonny. You should know that.' This time Alberto was alone in grinning. I saw nothing funny in what had happened to my uncle, though he was right about the bullets. Not one person from our block had breathed a word about the pistol going off in our apartment. Had Alberto stopped short of shooting him, my mother would've known every detail by now. ‘Anyway,' he said, still stuck on his earlier question. ‘Are you hassling her, Sonny? Just because she's the only girl who gives you the time of day, it doesn't mean you can take liberties. What the hell is going on with you two?'