Authors: Sandra Kitt
“Don’t worry about me,” Jason responded, indicating a chair for her to sit in.
He decided that there was nothing to be gained by telling Leah that there
had
been initial curiosity about her. Jason knew that it was Spano who’d probably got the story rolling, and thereafter Jason had found himself defending his decision to date a black woman. He hadn’t expected that.
“I’ll come back in about a half hour. Will that be enough time?”
It was more than enough, although Leah’s observations soon had less to do with her assignment than it did trying to get a feel for the people and place where Jason worked. These were more than just men and women dressed a certain way who legally bore arms. They had a shared mission, a shared philosophy, and it all seemed foreign and incomprehensible to Leah.
At one point an officer approached and introduced himself as Officer O’Neill. He asked if she’d like some coffee or a soda. She was surprised and accepted, although she found herself unable to lower the invisible wall that separated her from him. It was a protective barrier against the unknown.
When Jason returned, Leah was relieved. His presence made her feel less obvious. But he was not alone. There was a sturdily built black youth with him, walking with a slow gait that clearly stated the boy’s indifference to his surroundings. He seemed tough and unresponsive. He might have been seventeen. He was wearing a black T-shirt with
TOUGH SHIT
written in gold foil on the front, under a neon bright orange down jacket easily two sizes too big for him. There were scars on his neck and face, home-done ink tattoos on the back of his hands. He wore a black knit ski cap pulled way down on his head.
The tattoos were what grabbed Leah’s attention. Those and his eyes. She couldn’t help staring as she realized that she saw nothing beyond their flat brown surface.
Nothing.
Her stomach suddenly churned because that man, the one who’d attacked her, had had eyes like this. Behind them there didn’t seem to be any emotion. No sustained thoughts, or right and wrong. Leah realized with sharp accuracy that, like the other man, this boy did not see her as a person, a human being, but simply sized her up as an opportunity or an enemy. There was no middle ground or other criteria. Not even the fact that they were both black.
To actually meet someone with such limited capacity for feelings astonished Leah. What in the world had happened to him and his life? How had he gotten this way?
“How’s it going?” Jason asked Leah.
She couldn’t even answer right away, so stark was her sense that this boy could strike out at any moment for any reason—or no reason at all.
The teen slumped against the wall and glared at her. His stare was cold, and Leah had the feeling he’d already made up his mind about her. He didn’t like her. Was it just because of her or because of her connection to Jason?
“Fine,” she responded absently, trying to answer her own questions.
Seeing the direction of her attention, Jason beckoned to the boy. With an obvious lack of interest the youth pushed himself away from the wall and took two very slow steps forward. Jason put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and urged him to his side.
“This is Slack,” Jason announced with a slight emphasis.
Leah again examined the boy closely. She remembered the name. Someone Jason worked with. The difficult one.
“Hi, Slack,” she said quietly, looking at him. She even held out her hand. “I’m Leah.”
Slack shifted from one foot to the other. He looked at Leah’s hand and then off into space. “Yeah,” he uttered in a tone that was empty.
“Hey,” Jason said in a sort of warning signal to Slack that they both understood.
With a calculated effort meant to show his boredom, Slack extended his right hand and merely touched Leah’s fingertips, but didn’t take hold of them. His hand dropped again to his side.
Leah looked at Jason and smiled tentatively.
He shrugged patiently. “He’s not housebroken yet,” Jason responded dryly. “Lighten up, man. You can’t remember the last time someone this pretty looked at you.”
Leah might have been amused by Jason’s remark, but when she looked at Slack again, any amusement vanished. Beyond the dislike she’d discerned before, Leah thought she could also detect resentment.
“You wait here,” Jason instructed Slack firmly. He walked away to the desk sergeant.
Leah had her mouth open, but there was no chance to say anything to Jason before he was gone. She didn’t want to be left alone with this boy. But in case she’d been wrong, she looked into Slack’s eyes again. He was about her height, and he had a way of looking with his head tilted slightly back that it appeared he was looking down on her. His eyes were dark and impenetrable. There was a wall around him meant very clearly to keep everyone at a distance.
“Where do you live, Slack?” she found herself asking. Just to see how he’d answer.
His head tilted back farther. “What the fuck you want to know for?” he asked scathingly.
Leah stared round-eyed at him. His response was all the more bewildering because it was so instantly angry. He smirked at her.
“How come you know him?” he asked, referring to Jason.
“We’re friends.”
“He gettin’ coochie from you?” he asked.
The question showed such a lack of discipline and respect that she couldn’t answer. Leah couldn’t seem to take her eyes from him. A sudden dreadful chill literally shook her from head to toe. “That’s none of your business.” The differences between her and Slack felt suddenly deep and solid. But looking at Slack she also saw the mugger. They were not the same age or size. The other man had been much bigger, but the limits of their lives were the same. She was anxious to get away from him. His presence evoked too many fears of her own vulnerability.
Leah decided not to say anything to Jason, probably because Slack’s posture suggested that he expected her to. But mostly Leah didn’t want to seem like a tattler and like she didn’t know how to handle him.
She didn’t, but that was her problem.
“Jason talks about you a lot. He seems to care about what happens to you, you know.”
“He ain’t my friend. He’s a cop.”
Leah felt even more foolish. She wondered if Jason really understood what he was dealing with in this boy. She was relieved when Jason finally returned, and she tried not to let her expression indicate her discomfort in Slack’s presence. Jason spoke low, only for her to hear.
“Look, I’m giving him a ride back to his center in the Bronx. Am I going to see you later?”
Leah forgot about Slack for a minute and grinned at Jason. “I don’t know. Am I going to see you later?”
He checked his watch. “Can you make it to my place? Around seven?”
“See you then.”
Jason nodded and turned to Slack. “I’ll get my coat.” He strode away down the hallway, leaving her alone once more with Slack. She tried not to be intimidated but sensed that Slack could read her and knew she was afraid.
“What you lookin’ at?” he asked scathingly, catching her in the act.
She shrugged uneasily. “I was just wondering why you don’t think Jason’s sincere about helping you.”
“Nobody gives a shit, and I don’t trust no cops. Jason thinks he knows me. And you look at me like I’m a fuckin’ freak.” Slack shook his head with eerie sly amusement. “Jason not your friend, neither. You still just a nigger. Just like me. Only he gettin’ it from you,” he laughed. “Dumb bitch …”
Leah swallowed hard, feeling angry and impatient. Anything she said would be inappropriate, ineffectual. “I feel sorry for you.”
“Fuck you,” he said indifferently.
Jason approached. “Let’s go,” he said, and Slack turned and bopped off slowly toward the exit.
Leah looked at Jason as he stood in front of her. She stared because she could still only see the man she liked and trusted. She smiled. His blues gave him something extra.
“Want to be dropped off somewhere?”
“No. It’s easier if I get on the train.”
“Fine. So I’ll see you later.”
“Yes … Jason?” He stopped, already at the door of the precinct. “Be careful,” Leah said hesitantly. He winked at her and left.
Leah knew the moment Jason opened the door to let her into his apartment that he’d had a bad day. He’d gotten there only fifteen minutes before she had, and already he was on his second beer. She’d grown to recognize the signs of stress and annoyance in him. She’d learned to know when just the politics of the precinct set him off into a short tirade of dissatisfaction. When he was pensive he got quiet and withdrawn. It could be a particular case or youngster, or some other relationship … something personal that began it all.
“Are you all right?” she asked when she saw the line of tension between his eyes, the reflexive muscle in his jaw that meant he was restless.
“Yeah, fine,” Jason murmured. In his bare feet he walked into the open living room and stood with a hand on one hip, sipping from the beer.
His silence made Leah feel insecure and uncertain. Was it about her, them? Was he unhappy? She put her jacket away and dropped her purse on the floor. She eased out of her shoes and joined Jason, standing quietly behind him. She tentatively put her hand on Jason’s back, feeling the hard play of muscles. She rubbed caressingly up and down, and actually knew when he began to loosen up and flex with her touch.
“Feel like talking about it?”
Jason slowly turned around to face Leah. He saw the concern and thoughtfulness in her eyes. But he knew he could not go into the details.
Leah had her hair pulled back into a ponytail, and the style made her look considerably younger than she was. She looked more defenseless and confused than he felt. But no, he didn’t want to talk to her about his encounter with the redheaded dancer, or her unexpected irritation with his unavailability for the evening. Instead, Jason put his arms around Leah in a loose embrace, careful not to spill the beer.
“No,” Jason shook his head at her question. “Believe me, you don’t want to know.”
“Then, what can I do?” She touched her hand to his bristly jaw. He rubbed his cheek against her.
“Just be with me.”
“I’m here,” she grinned. Leah took the bottle out of his hand. “I could give you a back rub, but a cold shower might do you more good.”
Jason was amused by her simple solution. “Promise?”
“Promise,” she nodded.
Even though it was her idea, Leah was surprised when Jason went off without further comment. Usually his mind would have been more creative, his need more physical and immediate. He was often more likely to say, “I have a better idea.” But she watched as he unbuckled his belt and opened his jeans. He peeled off the T-shirt and headed for the bathroom.
Maybe he really would rather be alone, Leah thought. But when the bathroom door closed and the water started, she pensively wandered around the apartment, her imagination playing overtime with speculation and doubt.
Jason’s studio apartment was on the fifth floor in the rear of a building, which gave him a view of the Brooklyn Bridge. The apartment opened onto a small foyer. Just off to the left was the bathroom. Next to that, the kitchenette. He had constructed a counter perpendicular to the sink and stove that served as a work area/desk/dining table with two stools drawn up.
Two things had caught Leah’s attention the first time Jason had brought her here. One was the number of photographs of foreign lands, children, and pictures of Michael that covered the walls. The other was the queen-size bed, a mattress on a low platform, in the main room. Suddenly all Leah could think of was that Jason had made love to other women there. Leah had walked around the apartment, to inspect this space that was his. Jason had silently watched. She’d looked at the pictures on the wall taken in ’Nam and California. She stared so long she could almost conjure up a picture of Jason twenty years younger, tramping through the steamy jungles of a foreign land. Some of the pictures of Michael showed him with a very pretty young blond woman who could only have been Jason’s ex-wife. Leah felt a bit chilled inside as a new insecurity attacked her. In light of such wholesome blond prettiness, she wondered what it was Jason saw in her.
Sometimes it seemed to Leah that Jason just needed her company. Sometimes it happened that when they were together he seemed to be drawing from her some reserve of strength and stability. After meeting Slack, Leah was not surprised.
Tonight it might again be about Slack. … or something similar. Jason was again distracted but, she reminded herself, he still wanted to be with her.
Jason eventually came out from the bathroom, casual in his nakedness as he donned a pair of white Jockey shorts and ran his hands through his damp hair.
“Look, I just want to rest a while. You don’t mind, do you?”
Leah had no time to think about it as Jason stretched out across the bed. She did mind, but it wasn’t until Jason had fallen to sleep that she could think why. Being left awake made her feel isolated. Leah needed the certainty of his being with her when he touched her, finding pleasure in loving her. She’d already discovered that Jason’s greatest strength was his gentleness. He was sensitive enough to recognize that when she held herself aloof from him, which sometimes happened but never lasted for long, it was still out of a sense of fear that he might hurt her.
Leah was determined not to fall into their affair so deeply that there was no chance of her getting out unscathed. Besides which she knew that somewhere deep inside Jason was still hidden his own secrets and pain. Each time she let herself give in to the passion that he aroused in her, she felt guilty and uneasy. She was too confused between her personal satisfaction with him, someone who was white, and a sense that she hadn’t given enough or tried hard enough with the men in her past who were black.
Making love to Allen had been pleasant but predictable. Jason was another story completely. He came right out and asked her: did this feel good, did she want to be touched there. Through Jason she discovered her body as something to marvel over and enjoy unclothed. Not in a lascivious way, and not as when she was an adolescent and she and her girlfriends had giggled over the way their bodies changed, how they were different from boys. Leah soon gave up questioning and analyzing for the sheer enjoyment of being with Jason. Even this way. She sat in the chair near the window and stared with blank eyes out into the night.