My Book of Life By Angel (4 page)

S
o I read

Friendly to man, far from deceit or guile.

What fear I then, rather what know to fear

Under this ignorance of good and evil
.
.
.

I read and read.

And John liked it so much

with him doing so much hard breathing

except when I did it wrong,

which is easy when you don't get it,

when they're just words stacked up,

words like dismissive

and didactic and complacency,

all words made up by Milton,

words one after another

with commas and periods

and adjectives and verbs

all not making any sense added up.

But then none of my dates made sense,

and none of them paid as good as John.

W
idow saw how much money he gave me.

I said, I have enough now to make Call happy.

Good night, Widow, have an eve­ning good.

She rolled her eyes and said,

that John dude is one sick puppy what he's doing to you.

I said, don't forget you so beautiful look

and I left to meet Call at Kayos.

As I walked my feet beat dopesick dopesick

and my hip joints ground bone on bone

and my lips stung

and I felt like my eyeballs had rolled back into my brain.

I could see my brain thinking

you ­can't leave,

you think you can go home

but this is your life now,

this is what you are and what you've done.

Eyeballs ­can't blink back there.

They had to see that I got myself ­here

that I didn't care bit by bit.

On Call's candy the universe seems a friendly place,

but without it, it shows you its grumpy side.

It ­doesn't like you to have opinions or too many shoes.

It frowns at you

and shows you how stupid you've been.

I
got to Kayos same time as Asia and his new girl—

he ­wasn't letting this one out of his sight—

and Call and the other businessmen ­were eating

and a big hot fire was burning in the firepit.

Call and the others had barbecue pork ribs,

the juice running down their chins,

and Asia's new girl laughed like Serena never was.

I didn't have the special.

In honour of Serena

who nobody was talking about

I ordered angel food cake

which they did not have but I ­wasn't hungry anyway.

I said to Asia's new girl, I think Serena will be back soon.

Serena was my friend. Everybody loved Serena.

Asia's girl frowned at me.

C
all said, I have an idea.

I've talked to some people,

important people.

He said, the missing women,

they're getting press now

and we could cash in on that,

make it work for us,

tell people we have a way

to get them off the streets.

I mean, we could go legit, have a store.

Asia laughed, but Call said,

I've been looking into the pro­cess
.
.
.

he said, I have backers with cash.

They are offering money to pay for a lawyer.

We would have to lobby for decriminalization.

Asia said, what are you talking about, man?

Call said, I mean we could or­ga­nize ourselves,

work together to get the business legalized.

Then we could set up shop anywhere, advertise on TV—

we'd be entrepreneurs.

We'd be dignified.

Asia said, with all the others watching, silent,

they'll never go for that.

C
all said, wiping his red mouth,

this is a seven billion dollar business,

they ­can't ignore us.

What we do, it is a necessary ser­vice.

We gotta clean up our act, bind together like brothers.

Call said, it's a matter of supply and demand.

He explained how he would draw up a petition,

the men could all go out on the street to get signatures

and take them to town hall and the mayor.

Asia said, you do it, Call baby.

You do it. ­We're behind you.

I
thought, the missing women getting press?

what did that mean?

what did the press care if they ­were just running away

or checking into rehab or going to jail?

I thought, what if Widow was right?

what if Serena was dead gone, not missing gone?

what if there was a Mr. P?

While Call and Asia and the other businessmen laughed

and ate their barbecue pork ribs

I tried to imagine being dead,

and what if it was no feeling, no dreaming, no nothing,

just not existing?

I closed my eyes, and what if she got suffocated?

I held my breath until I ­couldn't stand it,

but she would have had to stand it

all the way to being dead.

I had to stop because dying is not a thing you can do

with your imagination.

When I opened my eyes Asia and his new girl

­were looking at me, and I said again,

Serena will be back soon.

Asia said, what's wrong with her?

Call said, we have to go,

she skipped a dose,

she's bringing the mood down.

I'll call you about the petition.

W
alking back to his place I said to Call,

the press says about the missing girls?

Widow says there's a Mr. P—

what if he got Serena?

Call said, Mr. P—­that's just street talk.

Cops say one person could not get away with it that long,

that many girls, all those bodies.

What could he be doing with all those bodies?

Call said, you see the police every night driving around,

you see their cars and them inside.

Have you ever seen Mr. P?

He said, but anyway, it will get people to sign my petition.

Call believes in the police—

they are clean and pressed in their uniforms

and polished boots

and firearms and badges

and pins.

Call is respectful of them, jokes with them on the streets.

But I thought,

would Serena go away without telling me?

would she leave without her running-­away money

which is still under my mattress?

At his place, Call said, you just need a little candy,

that's what this is all about.

I said, no thank you

and he said, what's going on?

you getting ideas?

I said, you have to be pure

if you want to see an angel.

He laughed, said, pure?

I
nodded

and my brain went slosh slosh

and the juice in my eyeballs fizzed.

Call sat on the broken-­bone couch

like nothing was wrong with it,

tipped sideways on it like he was straight

and all the rest of the world was crooked,

and he wrote something and said it was a letter

and he made me sit beside him and read his letter.

Dear Mayor.

Every year our municipality, spends valuable tax dollars, monitoring
the activities of sex trade perpetrators. Every year hundreds of young women, are killed because of violence; many more: die of disease and
drug related health problems.

Imagine a world: where this ser­vice was legalized; where women ­were required to go for regular medical checkups: this would make patrons much safer. I propose: a community where these activities are contained; and where everyone benefits from the millions of dollars of tax revenue that could be reaped from this industry.

We are starting a petition and would like to arrange an appointment to meet with you, to discuss some of our lobby group's ideas for change.

Sincerely,

C. B. Jones,

Entrepreneur

Cell 604-­555-­0199

Call was impressed with all his extra commas

and colons and semicolons.

He said, what do you think, Angel?

I said, opinionastrous.

C
all said, someday we'll have a duplex and a dog

and cut the grass in the eve­ning

and invite the neighbours to a barbecue.

He said, you make enough money,

and we'll be folks, we'll have a baby.

He picked up a magazine and showed me the ads

telling people to spray perfume on furniture

and adopt a manatee

and cook with balsamic vinegar and toasted hazelnuts

and thyme sprigs and goat cheese.

He said, this will be us someday.

But all those ingredients ­were just a poem to me.

He said, time to expand the business.

Me first he ruined
.
.
. whom will he next?

T
o­night started out with the same dialogue,

with Widow saying,

you again?

She said, I'm nobody's babysitter

fine by me you wanna get dead

see if I care.

She said, you watch out

don't you be thinking I'll save you

and don't you get in that car there either

I heard he's a woman-­hater.

She said, don't step over that line.

She said, what's the matter with you? you dopesick?

Call cut you off? why then?

you want to feel it the way you did the first time? why then?

how can you stand it?

don't you throw up around me,

throwup makes me throw up.

She said, how can you work?

I said, when I'm clean I'll find out your real name,

and she said, guess.

I said, is it Marnie?

Lenora?

Dorothy?

Elaine?

Widow listened to each name,

trying it on,

and

no

no

no

no.

I said, Widow is a nice name

and she said, too spidery.

I said, call your mom.

She said, I don't remember my mom.

She said, some date knocked my memories out of me

but I bet if I hear my real name

I'll know.

If I could remember my name

I might remember my mom who gave it to me.

T
hen came Mr. Mercedes pointing at me

and Mr. Shiny Suburban who pinched

and the guy who had his girlfriend on his cell all the while

and the guy who had a Mickey Mouse watch

and Mickey danced the ­whole time

and the guy who asked me for a password

and was sure I was a spy

and the nice man whose girl was far away.

The ­whole time I was shaking and sweating and coughing

and one man said stop it

but no matter how hard I tried I ­couldn't stop

shaking and coughing and yawning.

He put his hand over my mouth

until he was done

so I could hardly breathe—

and right then and there I gave up.

I said, Widow, I'm done.

I walked back to Call's place same as always

knowing he would give me give me give me

all the candy I could take.

I
walked back to Call's place

thinking, I give up,

thinking, I'm dying I'm dying,

and me not knowing,

just walking in the door,

and there I found

an angel.

A
little one.

A
little girl.

C
all said, you needed some help.

He said, her name is Melli.

His words replete with guile into her heart too easy entrance won
.
.
.

M
elli, a little girl

you could see her veins through

and her eyelids?

you could see the blue through

and her feet?

you could see the bones through

and her hair?

you could see the light through

She was almost not there.

I thought, if I blink

I could make her go away—

but no

she was never gone, blink blink,

she was there and there

and what was I going to do?

The air of this place

could crush such bones
such blue.

I
said, where did you get her?

He said, group home ­here,

nobody cares about those kids.

I said, that's not true—

I said, I'll work hard—

I said, take her back

it's not right

she's too little—

I said, if you got caught you would be in big trouble.

Call said, all great businessmen take risks.

I said please.

He said, you need some candy,

and I said, just a minute.

I had to think, had to,

but I knew I ­couldn't think on Call's candy.

I said, in a minute.

I
threw up in Call's bathroom sink

so hard I thought bits of stomach

slid out of my mouth

and then I came back into Call's living room.

Melli.

I was careful, didn't move too fast around her,

didn't want to scare her.

Call said, I need to go out,

and he went into the bathroom

and ran the shower, started singing

something about little miss strange

no one knows where she comes from—

While Call sang in the shower,

I asked her, how old are you?

She put up all ten fingers

and then one—

same age as my little brother Jeremy.

I
t's okay, I said to her, my voice shaking, shaking,

you can trust me—

what's group home?

where are your parents?

But my words went through her

as if she ­weren't solid

and she didn't answer.

I said, Melli, is that your real name?

She nodded.

I said, can you talk?

She shrugged, looked down.

Why don't you talk?

I looked in her mouth,

she let me,

and she had a tongue

pink as a baby's

and I knew that mouth

had never eaten fruit off the knowledge tree.

I said, it's okay, silent Melli—

it's okay.