Terrance Hayes - { Black Confederate Ghost Story }
Shannon Elizabeth Hardwick - { Worst of It }
Jay Sefton - { I’ll Have a White Zinfandel }
Jeff Boyle - { Apostrophe }{ The Thing Is }{ Domesticity }{ Constantly Approaching Zero }
Reesa Grushka - { Horses }{ Prayer }{ Constellations }
Liz Howort - { Words on Which I Float }
Bernadette McComish - { The Gospel of Donna }
Sarah Heller - { Leaving Egypt }{ Ars Novelica }{ Company }
Jeff Friedman - { Willhem of Hands }{ Power Point }{ Pillar of Salt }{ Home Magic }
Syreeta McFadden - { Wingman }
David Ebenbach - { First Flowers }{ The Four Seasons Club }
Shannon Elizabeth Hardwick - { What Man Made }{ Francine Hates Antique Stores for Their Bowls of Lemons }{ How a Home is Made }
Ronda Muir - { Names from History }
John Findura - { Adrienne, I Heard You Were Trapped }{ My Fascination With Mercedes }{ Recharging the Batteries }
Michelle Campagna - { Salt }{ History of an American Face }{ Firebird }{ Satellite }
Wingman by Syreeta McFadden |
Two white guys and a black chick walk into this bar called Latin America. A fat guy with a gold crucifix draped around his neck tells them that he can only see out of one eye and that that his buddy has just returned from Iraq. The tall blond guy says, ‘That’s cause for a celebration,’ and then darts to the back of the room searching for the toilet.
The black chick plants her apple bottom on the barstool and side-eyes her friend with the goatee. A man at the end of the bar gives them the nod, and slowly sips his drink.
The bartender is a large woman with cropped platinum hair streaked with fuchsia highlights. She asks the black chick, ‘Whaddyellhave?’
The black chick says, ‘Jack and ginger.’
The black chick’s friend, the one with the goatee who’s about to be married, says to the black chick, ‘Good call, Maya—Jack and Ginger.’ He tells the bartender that he’ll have the same.’ Maya shrugs and says, ‘Jacob, darling, you should never underestimate me. Now, where did Luke disappear to?’ They toast and look around for their friend. Luke pops out of the back of the bar from behind a door then rolls up to where they sit.
‘Some bachelor party,’ Luke says. He orders a round of shots.
‘Whoa? This was just supposed to be a nightcap,’ Maya says. She tosses her head to the side. Her hair flips over her shoulders.
The bartender’s breasts take a rest on the bar as she serves up the drinks. ‘You getting married?’
Jacob grins. ‘Yes Maam, I am.’
The bartender extends her pudgy hand over the bar and high fives him. ‘This one is on the house.’
Luke, the tall blond, looks on like a proud father. His persistence about celebrating this event, their friend’s marriage, has pushed the three them into the wee hours of night, now morning of drinking. He smiles stupidly. His eyes widen and rest on the center of the bartender’s torso.
‘Bottoms up,’ he says.
A thin woman with curly dark hair and fake nails glides up to Luke. He’s surprised and aroused. ‘I haven’t seen you in a while,’ he says to the girl. She stands tippy-toe and throws her arms around him. Rhinestones are imbedded in each nail. ‘Where you been?’ she asks.
‘Traveling,’ he says.
‘Right,’ she says. She is chubby cheeked. Baby fat peaks from around her waist.
‘She looks, like, eighteen,’ whispers Jacob to Maya. Maya smirks, sips whiskey through her tiny straw. The girl’s t-shirt clings to her breasts, her nipples threaten to poke through the fabric. She watches Luke sleepy-eyed and talks into his chest. Luke winks at Jacob and retires to a far corner of the bar with the girl. Maya and Jacob are left alone. There is a mirror that hangs above the bar surrounded by chili pepper lights. It looks like an altar. Beneath the mirror, amber bottles are underlit among small candles. Maya and Jacob watch each other as they talk and drink. They can see everyone in the bar behind them in the mirror. Maya turns away for a moment and sees Luke nuzzle the eighteen-year-old in the neck and tap her ass. She rolls her eyes. The man at the end of the bar tells Maya in his heaviest Brooklyn accent that she too has a nice ass. Maya says, ‘Thanks.’ The guy’s wearing a button down shirt with the Puerto Rican flag printed on it. When he grins, his gold tooth glints in the bar light.
Through the mirror’s reflection, Jacob and Maya watch the soldier pick pool balls from the corner pockets of the table and set them inside the triangle. They study his movements.
‘It’s 2:30 am and the bar is packed. I think everyone here knows each other except us,’ Jacob says.
‘Listen to that,’ Maya says. ‘That chord is sick. Salsa’s full of the diminished fifth.’ She shakes her shoulders to the rhythm of the music.
‘It’s Mark Anthony,’ the bartender offers, shuffling toward the other end of the bar.
‘You know what he’s saying?’ Jacob asks Maya.
‘No habla espanol,’ she says.
Jacob checks his phone. There’s a text message from his wife to be. It reads: Ani ohevet otcha. Lila tov. He smiles and shows it to Maya. She nods and says, ‘Tu amore. Bueno.’
‘I thought you didn’t speak Spanish,’ he says.
‘I lied.’
‘This doesn’t bode well for our friendship. How can I believe anything you say?’ he asks.
‘The thing I told you about the diminished fifth is true,’ Maya says. ‘Listen to that chord. Listen to how it vibrates. It’s like the sound of a heart breaking, that tension...it’s orgasmic.’
‘When you put it like that, Jacob tells her, I retract everything I just said about not trusting you.’
Jacob nods to the music. ‘It does sound like a heart breaking.’
‘I read somewhere that minor chords and the diminished fifth were outlawed in Europe. Before Mozart. It was a sound that incited people to licentiousness,’ she slurs on the suffix.
‘So basically, everyone broke out and had sex when they heard it.’
‘Yup.’ Maya burps out a deep breath, and notices Luke, in the mirror, sliding his bottom lip along the crook of the girl’s neck.
Jacob’s eyes are heavy-lidded with liquor. He becomes quiet. Maya surveys the room through the mirror’s reflection. She is the darkest person there. The alcohol is starting to kick in and she feels her body become Jell-O. She wavers a bit on the stool and steadies herself by straightening her back. She looks at Jacob.
‘Are you alright?’ Maya asks.
‘Yeah...’
She rubs his back gently. ‘This is good. This is good,’ she says.
‘You know,’ he begins to say, ‘Everything they tell you about getting cold feet, I thought I was way past that. Everything they say that’s supposed to happen when you’re about to get married. The whole, anxiety, the millions of thoughts, second thoughts that run through your head… I though it was bullshit until this moment. Right. Now.’ He’s now speaking to her through the mirror’s reflection.
‘I know she’s the One. I feel she’s the One, yet . . .’ In the mirror, Jacob watches Luke advance to second base with the girl. ‘I’m worried that she’s not.’
The bartender wobbles over to check on Maya and Jacob. ‘Another round?’ Her r’s curl like hard candy under her tongue. They say ‘sure, why not.’
Jacob shakes his head. ‘It seems so clichéd. I thought I was immune.’
‘They’re not called clichés for nothing,’ Maya says. ‘It’s a common experience. Besides, how’s this for cliché: We’re at a bar on what’s supposed to be your bachelor party and your friend’s getting lucky.’ She nods her head toward the reflection of Luke who now has his hand firmly gripping the ass of the girl, who’s tongue funneling its way to the back of her throat.
Jacob lets out a laugh. ‘Yeah, but somehow, it isn’t. I mean look at us. Here we are in this bar. We’re the only ones who aren’t Puerto Rican. And normally, at least according to the rules, you wouldn’t be at a bachelor party.’
‘True.’ Maya swirls ice cubes in her drink with the little plastic red stirrer and shrugs. ‘Well, here we are.’
‘You’re a real trooper. This is mad late for you.’ Jacob slaps his hand on her shoulder and holds on for support. It’s a moment not unlike those beer commercials on TV.
‘Well, you only get married once.’
‘Let’s hope.’
Maya watches Luke and the girl suck face through the mirror’s reflection. She switches her gaze between them and herself. The alcohol gurgles in her stomach, She thinks: I’m still beautiful even though I’m single.
Marc Anthony croons, ‘And I still don’t see the reason why you’re killing me the way you did that day. That’s okay.’ Maya scoops her hair up, purses her lips together and looks at herself, and only herself, in the mirror. Jacob watches and she catches him. Their eyes lock for a second and she reminds herself why they’re there. Tonight, Maya’s the guy. She’s the guy who’s there to help her best friend Jacob feel better about having made the biggest decision of his life.
‘You guys are beautiful together,’ she says after a long silence.
‘I can’t believe I’m so lucky,’ Jacob says.
Shit talk heats up the pool game behind them. They both spin around to watch, cradling their drinks in their palms.
Jacob says to Maya quietly, ‘Here’s the other thing: this type of union hardly ever happens.’
‘What? You and Shiraz?’
‘Yeah. Ashkanzi and Sephardim.’
‘But you’re both Jewish.’
‘It’s basically a bi-racial marriage. It’s always special when that happens.’ He takes an ice cube from his drink and chews it.
‘Coño. Just reset the table, man. You a fuckin’ cheat, you know that?’ hisses the blind-in-one-eye guy. There’s a twinkle in his voice when he says this. The soldier rolls his shoulders and digs into the side pockets of the pool table. He slams the balls down onto the green surface.
‘There’s something you said earlier that I’ve been mulling over,’ Luke says to Maya, ‘when we were back at the restaurant. You said, love is often an accident and hopefully, one that doesn’t kill you in the act.’
‘I didn’t mean anything by that.’
‘What did you mean?’
‘To tell you the truth I’m not sure what I’m looking for when it comes to love. I know that I want to feel an ache and a release. That doesn’t make much sense, but I want it to feel like this song. I don’t know if that’s something you can hold onto in a relationship or not. I know that’s not what you want to hear. It’s true for me.’
Maya catches a glimpse of Luke’s progress with the girl. She notices his eyes which seem to have sunken deeper into his face. Maya studies the lines around his mouth. He isn’t getting any younger, she thinks.
‘Luke’s in it for the ease and satisfaction. He’s never going to get married,’ Maya says.
‘There are places where we clash,’ Jacob says, ‘Shiraz and me. Sometimes it’s not easy to talk like this. Like you and me are now.’ Maya searches the room for Luke who has now disappeared from sight. She can feel her stomach turn a little. She can feel the space between herself and Jacob shrink, as they sit in a comfortable silence. Here’s the part where a small, unknown secret that Jacob has concealed comes to light. Once it’s out there, there’s no going back. They’ve been over this, at least in all the other times they’ve met for drinks. Love is a factor of timing, no? She met him long after he’d declared Shiraz the love of his life.
‘Everyone clashes,’ she says gently. ‘That’s the drama of relationships, dude. There’s a touch of drama and violence in bringing two people together. It’s not unlike the act of sex. The act of creation in and of itself.’
‘It’s remarkable how you can always manage to make everything about sex.’
‘It’s part of the great circle of life.’
‘Aight. Aight. You break, then.’ The soldier says to the blind-in-one-eye guy. He takes his pool stick and polishes up the point.
‘I’m just fuckin’ wit ya.’ The blind in one-eye guy says. His voice is playful; he’s making an effort to lighten the mood. The soldier explains to Maya and Jacob that he just got back from Iraq.
‘We heard,’ Jacob says. ‘When did you get back?’
‘Thursday,’ he says.
‘Whoa,’ Maya and Jacob say.
The blind in one-eye guy breaks and the soldier flinches. He hunches his shoulders. The balls spin outward in four directions. Two of the stripes sink into pockets, while the rest bounce against the sides of the table.
‘It doesn’t quite feel right,’ the soldier says.
The blind man shakes his head and pats the soldier on the shoulder. ‘We’re just glad you’re back in one piece.’
The soldier grabs a bottle that’s sitting on the bar and takes a long gulp. ‘So you’re getting married?’ He asks Jacob.
‘Yessir.’
‘When’s the wedding?’
‘Next week. I fly to Tel Aviv in five hours.’
‘Israel? Congratulations, man,’ the soldier says. He gives Jacob a dap, slaps his hand on Jacob’s back and they roll into a man hug. As they pull apart, the soldier snaps Jacob’s fingers. I should be telling you to be careful over there, too, huh? The soldier says. He smiles at Maya. He looks dead behind his eyes, she thinks.
Luke untangles himself from the throat of the girl to grab his drink. She walks toward the bathroom and Luke redirects his attention back to his friends.
‘How are you guys doin’?’ he says.
‘We should be asking you that question,’ Jacob says.
They all three laugh. It sounds dark, concealed and perverse.
‘Dude,’ Jacob says. ‘That’s like statutory rape. How old is she?’
‘Shh. Don’t start.’ He drinks his whiskey like it’s a shot, slams the glass on the bar and orders another. ‘What can I tell you? I’m irresistible.’ Luke says.
‘You look like Grimace,’ Maya says. ‘No, more like Barney, a really pervy Barney.’ Luke frowns at her and pays the bartender.
‘You gotta love this country,’ Luke says.
‘That’s right,’ says the soldier. The blind guy scratches and the soldier gets the cue ball to set up his next shot.
‘Glad to be back?’ Luke asks.
‘Honestly? I felt safer over there than I do here,’ he says.
The soldier sinks another stripe into a pocket. Jacob checks his watch. It glows 3:43 am. Maya looks around the room and thinks the community they just found is lost. This feeling is familiar to her. They know and don’t know each other, she thinks, the way families do. She considers the pool table. It’s almost the same as the one her grandparent’s had in their basement. The atmosphere in the bar reminds her of Christmas’ pasts, the way her father’s family knew and didn’t know her. The way they talked and didn’t talk. Thankfully, there was a pool table nearby to pass the time, to relieve tension. The soldier scratches his last shot. The balls on the table remind Maya of Cassiopeia. She thinks he missed an easy shot.
‘May I?’ She’s standing now, slightly swaying. She knows she can save the game for him. The soldier hands her the pool stick and Maya calls the shot. As a stripe drops into the side pocket, her friends admire their perfect wingman and unwittingly, regard her backside.
‘Nice,’ says the soldier.
‘Semper Fi.’ She salutes him. His reflexes are shaky, but he salutes her back.
‘Hoo-rah,’ he answers her back.
‘Word.’ She’s unsure exactly how to respond.
‘I always have trouble seeing anything that’s right in front of me. You’re like my buddy,’ the soldier tells her. He was good at seeing the big picture, you know? Those are the people that you keep around. That’s the difference between life and death. What’s your lady like, man?’ He asks Jacob. ‘If she’s anything like this one, you’re a very lucky man.’
Maya is suddenly aware of her tongue. She licks her lips, as the soldier stares at her. ‘You ain’t got cold feet, do you?’ The soldier asks Jacob.
‘Surprisingly I do.’
‘It’s black and white, man,’ the soldier says. ‘You know how you can tell if she’s the one? Just ask yourself, when the world ends, is the woman standing next to you the one you never want to let go of. I’ll give you an example. A few days before my tour ended, we were on patrol in Tabriz. Some insurgents took a man and strapped C4 all over his body. He was what they called a good man. We brought in a tech to try to diffuse the bomb—but whatever—there was a timer. Everyone was screaming. The tech dropped his radio as he was running to take cover. I was holding his wife back and we could hear him over the radio yelling in Arabic, telling her to stay back, while in English he’s saying to us that he’s sorry. His wife wrestled herself away from me and wrapped her arms around him. My Arabic ain’t great, but he held onto her, weeping and saying, I love you. I love you in this life and the next. Forever. I’ll never forget it.’
The cue ball snaps the colors out of place and they scatter across the table. The soldier flinches. Maya reaches toward the soldier, but he grabs her wrist tightly before she touches him. When she tries to snatch her wrist back, she’s met with resistance. Jacob stands up and pulls Maya to his side. She can feel the warmth of his hand around her waste and she relaxes into his body. He pulls her closer to him. The heat of his breath warms the side of her face. The soldier locks eyes with Jacob and lets go of Maya’s wrist.
‘Sorry,’ he says. Reflex.
‘It’s fine,’ Maya says. She pulls away from Jacob and sits back down on the barstool.
Luke says, ‘It’s ok, man. You’re just a little jumpy.’
Maya strokes Jacob’s arm until his body relaxes. Jacob breaks his stare from the solider to check his watch.
‘We should head out. My flight’s in four hours,’ he says. He slips on his jacket and Maya slides off the stool, almost falling to the floor. Luke and Jacob jump to catch her and she’s a lady again.
‘Nice meeting all of you,’ Maya slurs.
‘Buenos noches,’ says the blind-in-one-eye guy. ‘Buenos noches,’ says the soldier.
‘Lila Tov,’ Jacob says.
Luke runs to the back of the bar to slip the girl his number, then catches up to his friends to escort them out of the bar.
Outside, the air is damp and cool. A light wind brushes against their skin. The sky is the kind of blue stretched between night and day. The streetlight beams a spotlight on a silver coupe. Behind them, Maya stares at the fluorescent letters that light up Latin America. A flag, red and white stripes with a white star in the center of a blue triangle, is painted on the door. Jacob yawns as if he’s just awakened from a deep sleep.
‘You think she’ll call?’ Jacob asks.
‘Just as sure as that guy’s going back to Iraq,’ Luke says.
Maya stretches her arms toward the twilight. Wind blows and her hair rises and falls in the breeze. The streetlights hang over the crown of her head. Jacob watches her as if it’s the first time he’s ever really seen her. Maya can feel his eyes on her skin as they walk up the steep slope of the street.
‘We’ll have to do this again when it’s your turn to get married,’ Jacob says to her.
‘Always the wingman,’ she says, ‘never the bride.’
‘That’s the spirit,’ Jacob says. He moves a loose strand of her hair away from her face.
Luke laughs to himself as if he’s finally understood something that he’d been thinking about all night. ‘Puerto Rico isn’t even in Latin America.’