I wait at the bus stop.
THE BUS DROPS ME OFF AT THE CORNER
I walk to the stop sign. I turn at the shrubs.
At our building, I pull out my keys and beep myself in.
AT HOME
I take a shower. Hot and steamy until I’m clean.
ANGELINA COMES HOME
She changes into a green dress and takes her hair down.
The sight of her makes me want to fall onto my knees. I imagine it as a scene. Ouch. I hear my knees crack. I squint and the scene is gone.
I go out onto the balcony and have a smoke.
DINNER
Tonight, we’re in Brown Deer having dinner with Angelina’s parents, Carmita and Bud.
“Well, how was your first day of work?” Mama Carmita is asking me. “Angie told me you got a new job…”
“The diner on 79th and Capitol,” I say, “yeah,” then scoop some peas onto my plate.
YES, YES, YES
Mama Carmita is a nurse like Angelina, except for the elderly, at Sunrise Care Center at South 43rd. She’s giving me a smile. I can’t look her in the eyes. I love her more than my own mom. I know I shouldn’t weigh love against itself. But I weigh love against itself. Little questions come and find me. Questions, like: do I love Angelina more than Misha? I’m afraid the answer is yes.
Yes, yes, yes.
BUD AND CARMITA
Bud’s cutting a slice of the pork roast for me. He’s Angelina’s rose-skinned father. Originally from Lafayette in Indiana. He’s got a mustache like Stalin. In America, it shows the type of man who’s sensitive to cheddar. He’s a software engineer at M & I Data Services on Water Street. Bud speaks in short sentences. He holds Carmita by the waist.
“Thanks, Bud,” I say, taking the slice.
There’s also sofrito rice, steaming its blend of peppers, onion, garlic, and cilantro, and there’s tostones that were left-over from last night and a bowl of cooked sweet peas, because Mama Carmita knows I love peas.
CNN is on mute in the living room. More of a lamp. A source of light in the household. Cause Carlos, that’s Angelina’s brother, he’s in the army. Carlos has been deployed twice to Afghanistan, Jalalabad, and now to the Nangahar province. We all sit together and watch CNN. Mama Carmita gives firm hugs. Bud cooks heavy meals.
THE ARMY
There’s not much you can do against the decree of a childhood mission. That was Carlos. Carmita and Bud can’t say where he got it in his head. He’s been waiting to join the army since he was in elementary school.
There are boys who are born to be brothers. They are drawn to an extreme kinship by intuition. Their asylum, communal loss. (I keep this thought to myself.)
When Angelina or Bud or Carmita talk about Carlos, I get the sense that he’s all alone in time and they are trying to synchronize him with their words.
KINDRED
I don’t know if I’m projecting. I think Carlos and Nicky could have looked after each other…
WORRY
Carmita and Bud worry about Carlos. When I’m with them, I want to worry about Carlos. But the only worry that stirs in me is for the person who’s here, by my side. Angelina.
I WONDER
Does Mama Carmita love Angelina more than Carlos?
(Yes, yes, yes…)
DINNER TALK
Angelina is sitting across from me. She catches me looking at her. She gives me a private smile. I catch it and lock it up greedily. Bud’s mustache is shifting as he chews. Carmita takes a sip of her Tropicana juice. I am back to studying Angelina’s face.
Carmita starts up the conversation. She says Carlos is due soon for time off. Bud confirms that Carlos is due soon for time off. Angelina wonders when exactly Carlos will come home. Bud and Carmita and Angelina take guesses that aren’t precise at all. Soon, we all agree. It’s soon.
PEAS
“Olgalita, honey, do you want more peas?” Carmita asks. She is holding the metal spoon above the tan ceramic bowl. Bright green peas like syllables. Carmita scoops the peas onto my plate. They go tumbling, rolling. I collect them in a pile near a slice of pork in a puddle of oil and herbs.
I forget things when I’m eating peas. To listen. To answer. To participate in dinner talk.
All of the sudden, Angelina is laughing in unison with Mama Carmita. Their laughter is so beautiful. I feel as if I’m being lifted and taken up to heaven.
WE DRIVE HOME
After dinner in Angelina’s dark blue sedan. My hands are trembling. I fold them into my thighs so that Angelina doesn’t see. It’s drizzling on the black road.
The windshield wipers erase us from the outside.
Angelina places her hand on my knee.
“You were very quiet at dinner,” she says.
I am thinking to myself, I will do anything for love.
NIGHT
Shoes off. My stringy hair.
Angelina’s in the shower.
TEXT MESSAGE
From Nicky.
<GOOD JOB TODAY>
What.
What have I done?
MY ANGEL
The bathroom door clicks open. Angelina steps out. Her hair is wet. It’s dripping down her bare collarbone. Her torso, wrapped in a gray towel.
What.
What have I done?
WHAT I WANT
I leave my phone on the bed and walk over to her. I squeeze her into me.
We are face to face. My lips. Her lips. And space for. What I want.
I WANT
To break through the skin of this lifetime.
OFF, OFF
I pull her damp towel off. I’m smearing whatever is left of my lipstick on her clean cheek. What I want. I want.
She’s got me on the bed. Ice and earth. Her forehead. Her tongue. Her breasts. Her perfect heat. What I want.
A SIMPLE SONG
The next morning a bird sings. It’s a simple song. My hand still lays between Angelina’s thighs.
WORK
Angelina drops me off at the diner again. The door chimes when I enter. Lisette is at the cash register. She smiles like clockwork. My eyes feel so dry.
When I walk over, she lifts up a plastic cup with a teal lid.
“We’re having a mandatory staff drug
