The Final Testament of the Holy Bible (20 page)

He smiled at me. Said
hello.
Some of his teeth was broken and he had blood all over him. His face was all cut and swollen, his eyes turning purple all around them. And underneath the blood and swelling, I could see there was scars everywhere, like he’d been in a knife fight with twenty men. And his clothes was nasty, something I didn’t even see ’round here with people who can’t afford clothes. He reached up and put his hand on my cheek and said
it’s nice to see you, Mariaangeles
. I had men’s hands on me all the fucking time. Men grabbing my ass, my titties. Men trying to put their fingers everywhere inside of me. Never had a man put his hand on me like that. Just being gentle. Just being kind. Most men looking for some pussy and someone to take care of them, cook their meals and do their laundry. That’s what they think love mean. Ben just touch my cheek and say
it’s nice to see you, Mariaangeles
. Nicest thing any man had ever done for me.

I was wondering what he was doing. His apartment wasn’t his apartment no more. After he left it stayed empty for a few months. My brother broke in and stole the
TV
and the video games and all the beer in the fridge. Said he’d give it back if Ben came ’round again and ended up selling it all to buy a gun. After a while white people with clipboards and phones on their belts came ’round and opened it up. Some old man moved in and died like two months later. Went to sleep and didn’t never get back up. Then some family moved in. Woman and six kids and her husband, who didn’t do nothing but yell and
beat the shit outta all of ’em and blame all his own shit on the Jews. He got arrested for something, don’t even fucking matter what, ’cause he just another brother in the pen, and the woman and them kids went back to Puerto Rico, where they from. Now there was some girl like me. Eighteen and three kids with three different daddies, none of them giving a shit. Didn’t think she’d want him coming in there, and she could have pro’ly whooped his ass, specially looking like he was looking. I was thinking what to do when he smiled and spoke.

I need somewhere to stay.

And you wanna stay here?

Yes.

Why you thinking I’m gonna let you stay here?

Because I love you, and I can help you.

What the fuck you talking about, Ben?

Trust me.

I looked at him. More than anything, I was feeling sorry for him. He was clearly fucked up. More fucked up than me, more fucked-up looking than anyone I’d ever knowed. He was all beat-the-fuck-up and skinny. I wasn’t worried about him hurting me. And I was feeling a little guilty about taking all his money that time at the club. So I opened the door. He smiled and said thank you and stepped inside.

My place was bad. When I wasn’t working, I was getting high. When I wasn’t working or getting high, I was trying to be taking care of Mercedes. I didn’t have no time for cooking and cleaning. I tried sometimes to straighten up, but it didn’t happen.

There was dishes in the sink, trash in the kitchen. Didn’t have nothing but milk and water and old macaroni and cheese from the deli in the fridge. I kept my drugs and my pipes in Momma’s old room, and kept it locked so Mercedes couldn’t get at it. Me and her was sleeping in the bedroom I used to be sharing with Alberto my whole life. I hadn’t done no laundry in a long time so there was clothes everywhere. Mercedes was sitting on our couch, watching some
TV
show about crime, which she was doing all the time. Ben walked in and went to the couch and kissed her on the forehead. She didn’t pay him no attention. He turned to me and asked if there was somewhere he could sleep. I told him he could sleep wherever he wanted.

He walked over towards Momma’s room. I told him not to go in there. He asked where my mother was and I told him she was in the hospital. He asked why and I told him she had some cancer that was killing her. He said
I’m sorry
and he reached for the door and I told him it was a private place and he shouldn’t be going in there. He opened the door and he stepped into the room.

I didn’t know what to do. If I should be stopping him or if he was gonna be taking my shit or if he was just fucking crazy. I walked to the door. My shit was on my momma’s dresser, where I always left it. Ben was in the bathroom, turning on the sink and starting to wash his face. I could see him doing it real soft because he was all beat to shit. When he
put some water in his mouth and spit it out, everything was red. When he took off his shirt, he was so skinny I could see all his ribs and veins and his whole body was covered with bruises, all purple and black, like someone went at him with a baseball bat. He looked over at me standing near the dresser, where I had me a vial with one rock I was trying to save and a pipe and torch. He smiled and said
it’s fine, Mariaangeles, I will not judge you
. After he was done with his cleaning, he come back into the room and took off his pants and layed down on the bed and closed his eyes. He didn’t do no moving at all.

He slept for two or three days. I kept checking on him ’cause he was looking like he was dead. Only time I saw him moving was a few times I came in and his eyes was open a little and he was laying on his back twitching and shaking and doing some kind of grunting, but it was real soft like a baby. I started getting high in my room and just leaving him be. I knew he’d be waking up or dying at some time or another, and I thought either way it happened he’d be outta my apartment.

Thursdays sometimes I’d work a double shift. All the white boys from Manhattan would come up ’cause it was right before the weekend so they could get drunk but they could tell their wives and girlfriends that they was out for business dinners. They’d start rolling in right after lunch, looking for black girls, all of them thinking we was gonna fuck them. After the shift I’d stay and get real
fucked up, smoking just to forget the day, and then I’d be coming home. I’d have my neighbor watch Mercedes and I’d pay her and then she’d put her to bed and lock the door. I told her about Ben being sleeping in Momma’s room and told her to pay him no mind.

This shift was worse than most of ’em, and they was all bad. Had a man who knew the manager and was old friends, some rich white man wearing a suit and living in a big house in Connecticut or someplace. The manager gave him a private room for free without any champagne tip, and I had to go back there, wasn’t no choice in it for me. Man was mean and cheap and I had to do everything he wanted. Sucked his dick, let him fuck me, putting his fingers where they didn’t belong. Went on for four hours, and when he finally left there wasn’t nothing to do but go out and hustle and try to make up for the money I didn’t make while I was with him. I went into the back room three more times. Let them men do whatever they wanted and got fucking paid for it. When I was done, I left and found a quiet place behind a dumpster and spent the next six hours getting fucking high.

I came home knowing Mercedes was going to be crying, like she always was when she was hungry and alone too long. I wasn’t in no mood for it either. Just wanted to drink me some water and go to sleep. When I put the key in the door, I could hear some laughing. I didn’t know what the fuck was going on.
I opened the door and went inside, and it wasn’t even looking like my apartment. Whole place had been cleaned. Like it was all shining. There was some spaghetti cooking in the kitchen. And Ben and Mercedes was both all cleaned up too, and they was standing in the middle of the living room, laughing and dancing together. Ben looked over at me and smiled.

Welcome home, Mariaangeles.

What the fuck is going on here?

I’m teaching Mercedes to dance.

She know how to dance already. I taught her how to dance.

Then I’m teaching her to laugh.

She know how to do that too.

No, she doesn’t.

And what the fuck happened to my apartment?

Your life is going to change, Mariaangeles.

I don’t want it to change.

Yes, you do.

No, I don’t.

Yes, you do.

He walked over to me, holding Mercedes’ hand. I wasn’t sure what to do. He was just smiling at me. And my little girl was smiling at me, smiling real wide. I hadn’t seen her smile like that in a long time. In a long long time. Broke my fucking heart. And nothing in the world more beautiful than a child’s smile. And there was my little girl, smiling all wide at a mother that didn’t deserve nothing like that. A mother that was feeling like she didn’t even deserve to be living this life that she had
been given. A life she know now can be something she want, so full of moments like the smile of a beautiful child. Ben was right, even though I didn’t want him to be right. Life was going to change.

As they walked to me, Ben leaned over and whispered something in Mercedes’ ear. She smiled and went running right up on me, and I bent over and took her in my arms and gave her a big hug, a big hug like I didn’t ever give anybody, not even her. And as I was holding her, she said I love you, Mommy. And I said I love you, baby, and even though I didn’t want to be doing it, I started crying. And then Ben came over and put his skinny-ass arms around both of us. And he said
I love you, Mariaangeles
. And for the first time in my life, when a man said I love you, I believed it. I believed it with my whole heart. And he just stood there, holding me, while I held my daughter and I cried.

When we stopped hugging, Ben walked me to my bedroom and told me to get cleaned up and get ready for lunch. I took a shower and stayed in there a long time, thinking ’bout my night, thinking about what Mercedes made me feel. When I come out, I’m wearing my best sweat suit and the table is set all nice as it can be and there’s spaghetti on plates and my pipe and three vials of rock I had are sitting next to my plate. Ben and Mercedes are sitting waiting for me. I look at the pipe and the vials and look at Ben. Why you putting that out like that?

Is there a reason you don’t want it out?

I sat down and put everything in my pocket.

My daughter don’t need to be seeing that.

Why?

You a fucking fool, man. Why you think?

You think she doesn’t know.

She ain’t old enough to know nothing.

If you say so.

I do.

You ashamed of it?

What do you think?

That you should stop.

You don’t know shit, white boy.

He smiled and didn’t say nothing. We started eating. He was helping Mercedes using her fork. I just watched her, and watching him with her made me hate myself more, knowing what I had in my pocket. I could feel it there. Heavy and bulging out. I was always pretending Mercedes thought I was just a regular momma. That our life was a regular life. Or at least regular for where we was living, for where we was from. I was just another girl with a kid trying to do my best and struggling. And in a way it was that way. But I was also knowing it was wrong. Knowing I could do better. Even in the way that we was.

We finished our lunch and Ben told Mercedes it was time for her to go napping and he took her into Momma’s room. I sat at the table and thought about what was in my pocket ’cause it’s all I wanted even though it was hurting to think about it and I heard Ben singing some kind of lullaby to Mercedes. It made me remember when I used to sing to her,
before I was working at the club, before Alberto got arrested, before Momma got sick. When he was finished, he closed the door and came out. I was still sitting and he sat down across and just stared at me. His eyes was looking different from when I used to know him. More black. Blackest things I ever saw. And he had been healing when he was sleeping. The bruising on his face was almost gone and his cuts was healing good. It made the scars stick out more. Made me be seeing them more. Made me really be understanding how much he changed. He must have been thirty or forty pounds skinnier. And he was whiter. Most white people I don’t notice. They all be looking like they got the same skin. Just white. Ben was white white. Paper white. And them scars was even whiter. Like glossy paint over regular paint. And he just stared at me. Them black eyes calming me down so I could actually be feeling my heart slowing down. And when I was real calm, and not even wanting to smoke no more, I spoke. What happened to you, Ben?

I changed.

No shit there. What happened?

It doesn’t matter.

Does to me.

What matters is what I have become.

What’s that?

Someone who loves you.

You don’t know me well enough to love me.

One must know oneself to love, not know others.

You sound like a preacher.

I’m not.

You gonna try to save me?

You’re going to save you.

How I’m going to do that?

Give me your pipe, your drugs.

What you gonna do with them?

Put them on the table.

They’re mine.

Yes.

I need them.

No.

I do.

Why?

Because I fucking do.

Put them on the table. I’m going to show you something.

You try to use them and I’ll fuck you up.

He smiled, stared at me, waited. If I saw him on the street, I’d think he was a crackhead for fucking real. But sitting with him and talking to him, I didn’t think it. I didn’t have no reason to trust him, ’cept how he was looking at me, but I did. Trusted him like I had never trusted no man or no white person ever. So I took my shit outta my pocket and put it on the table. Ben didn’t even look at it. Just kept looking at me. And then he stood up and walked around the table and leaned over and started kissing me. Real slow at first, real light, just brushing his lips right against mine. And it felt good, felt right. So we started kissing more, using our lips like we was meaning it, using our tongues. Kissing like we meant it, like we was in love. And he lifted me outta that chair, like I weighed nothing. And he took off my clothes. And
he put me on the table. And he licked me, and sucked me, and fucked me till I couldn’t see straight. Lying right next to my drugs. He showed me how to get high. He showed me what it felt like to feel good. He fucked me, and he loved me, and when he came inside me, it fulfilled more than any person, school, church, book, or God had in my life. He whispered
I love you
in my ear and he came inside me and it felt like I was right inside. It felt like what it was supposed to feel like to be believing in all those other things.