The Iron

"Don’t worry about what your sister does," Nati said. "Someday she will wish she paid herself more respect."

　

My aunt was pressing clothes on a small ironing board at the foot of Mama’s bed. Mama was the one who worked at a paying job and Nati stayed home to do the unpaid work. Mama worked in an office and had to be well-dressed and Nati spent a good deal of time washing and pressing her sister’s clothes. I didn’t think this bothered Nati but when I thought about washing and pressing clothes for my brother it made me sorry for Nati and somewhat angry too. Nati was five years older than Mama, as I was five years older than Daniel. I was happy when Daniel went to live with his father. I helped Nati and folded the clothes. It was pleasant to fold my mother’s clothes.

　

"Vassar told Pia he would show it to her so she could see that Choy was telling the truth. Maybe Pia wanted to see it," I said, "but she pretended not to?" Nati ran the iron over the small board.

　

"Well, he’s not an ugly man," Nati said, and my stomach felt on fire. To me Vassar was ugly. He had a stomach like a pregnant woman and pale skin and a pointy nose. "She likes him." My stomach burned and I no longer wanted to help Nati. Mama came out of the bathroom. She was preparing to go to out. A boy named Devon was coming to take her to dinner and she was making herself sexy for him. "Who likes who?" Mama said, and stood by the mirror.

　

"Nati says Pia likes Vassar," I said.

　

Mama said, "He’s the one Choy is going with?" I said that he was the one. Mama preened in the mirror. She rubbed her soft flat stomach. "I’m nervous, can you believe it?" Nati rolled her eyes. Mama went into the bathroom again.

　

At the movies Pia sat beside me and my heart clamored. I felt the hairs on her skinny arm against my arm but eventually I gave her the arm-rest. It was an evening of great joy at first because Pia took my hand at one time and held it and this gave me the courage to try for a kiss. Her lips stayed shut but she allowed me this brief ecstasy. "You’ll have to be happy with that – for now, okay Emil?" she told me, and patted my hand. "You’re so sweet."

　

I was tired of being sweet. Choy was beside Pia and Vassar was beside Choy. They kissed a good deal and Vassar tried to squeeze Choy’s breast but she pushed his hand away. All this I could determine not with my eyes but from Choy’s words which hissed in the quiet theater. "Those are mine," she would say, "You are a bad boy. I’ll spank you."

　

Pia watched Vassar when he went for a cigarette. I could see her eyes furtively lift as she watched his plump backside move off up the aisle. To me it looked like a woman’s backside. Only a few moments later Pia said that she needed to pee. This was too much of a coincidence for my liking. My stomach burned and I felt sick with jealousy. I offered to chaperone her. That was the word that appeared in my head but I didn’t speak it. "I can pee by myself," she told me and went off.

　

Choy watched the movie. I wanted to vomit. I needed to know that Pia was going to pee and not to see Vassar. Maybe Choy would go instead. "Aren’t you worried she might be going to see Vassar outside?" I asked her and hoped it would get her thinking the wrong way like me.

　

Choy smirked, "Oh, I’m sure that’s what she’s doing. Vassar is not interested in her though. Why should I worry?"

　

I had to go and find out or my heart would burst, my ribs explode like confetti. I imagined them in the darkness around the side of the theater. I wanted to kill him. I didn’t go outside but waited by the ladies’ bathroom. Girls looked at me and laughed, but not in a nice way. So many flat brown bellies, hard little breasts. I waited and it seemed like too long. No one could pee for that length of time. Then they came in through the door from the dark. Vassar waved at me and laughed. "Emil, you can’t go in there, they’ll arrest you."

　

Pia looked at me. "What are you doing, Emil?" I was angry and my stomach was so hot I grimaced. Adrenaline whistled and screamed through my blood, but I kept quiet.

　

"Just waiting to walk you back," I said.

　

"Oh, how sweet," she said, and slipped her arm in mine much too cordially. She smelled like smoke.

　

*

I learned a great deal from my Aunt Nati because we had similar circumstances, were similar people, and believe it or not, shared the same room . Alas, poor Emil. Let me tell you how this came to be. When Nati came to live with us it was not possible for her to stay in Mama’s room because Mama had too many guests, which is to say lovers. Choy wanted to keep her room to herself. Mama tried to talk sense to Choy but Choy was adamant. And so it fell to me. I told Nati I wouldn’t mind becoming her room-mate. There were still two beds in my room and one was vacant because Daniel had left some time before. We could put a partition between us to allow us both our privacy. Nati was reluctant but at last she agreed and since that day we have been fast friends. I don’t know what I would do without my Nati. I love her as much as Mama, perhaps more. As room-mates we found much occasion to talk and besides we were home-bodies, unlike Choy and Mama who were always gadding about. As I said before I was to learn a lot from my aunt and about women in particular, of whom I was frightened and ignorant. Even as I entered my twentieth year I was a virgin and had only kissed a girl, and this girl was Pia, who was a year my senior, the same age as Choy. And these kisses were almost never the romantic kind, though once in a while she would open her lips for me. Nati warned me that the girl had no feelings for me and that she was a liar.

　

"Everything that one says, it’s a lie," Nati told me one evening. My brain wanted to agree but my heart and my blood would not allow it. Passion teemed inside me and I was a slave to my passion. I wanted Pia and there was no undoing it. "What do you see in her?" Nati asked, "She is too skinny. Her breasts are not developed. She has the ass of a boy." What could I say. I had seen for myself that Pia’s breasts were small and delicate, but she was not barren.

　

"She has breasts, Nati," I breathed, and felt the blood swirl in my head and rush off to other regions. "Small ones."

　

After a few days Nati and I became so familiar we pushed our beds together. Nati said Pia looked pretty from afar but was not one to be looked at close. I had seen my girl very close and to me she was beautiful, a thousand times more so than Choy. "Choy is your sister," said Nati, "You can’t be objective about her." All the better, then. Let no other man desire Pia and she would be my girl. We were sweethearts.

　

*

On the following day the four of us took the ferry across the water. The weather was cool and Pia thought we should stay on the lower deck, but Choy took Vassar by the hand and pulled him up the skinny ladder. Pia told me to come and up we went. Old people with cameras milled about in the wind. Pia’s summer dress clinged to her when the wind blew against it. She laughed and tied her long hair at the top and again at the bottom, so that she made a band of dark hair like a thick rope. I wanted to hold her little waist. Vassar stood behind Choy and she leaned against him. His hands were joined in front of her stomach under her breasts. Pia and I stood at the railing in the wind and watched the water go out white from the back of the boat. The engine roared loud and the water thrashed and you had to shout to be heard. When Choy leaned back and tilted her head so that Vassar could kiss her Pia watched and then shouted at me, "They’re disgusting!"

　

The birds pitched and soared overhead and I felt confident that Pia was not amorously interested in Vassar. On the lakeside the four of us walked. A walk along the beach was a romantic thing and we had eaten and I was feeling romantic. I took Pia’s hand and played with her skinny fingers while we walked along behind the great lovers who leaned against each other as if they were drunk. Choy held her shoes in her hand like a girl in a magazine. I wanted to ask Pia why she was outside with Vassar at the movies, but at the same time I felt protected by the fact that I could remain ignorant of the answer forever. On the ferry back across the water it was dark and we all sat on the lower deck. The driver had a bald head and was so fat he could hardly fit in the seat. I thought what a pleasant job it would be just to drive the boat back and forth across the lake. Pia was beside me and the great lovers were in front of us. Choy was too small but we could see the back of Vassar’s head which dipped every few minutes to fetch a kiss from Choy. "Will you let me kiss you?" I asked my girl.

　

Pia made a face. "Emil, you’re so sweet," she said. "Okay, one." My heart thumped. I smelled her skin as I brushed my lips against her lips. She smelled like watermelon. Her lips were arid, her tongue a butterfly I couldn’t catch. It was the kiss of a sick grandmother.

　

*

Mama and Devon were making noise in the kitchen. I was still awake but Nati was snoring in her bed. I got up and padded down the hallway to the top of the stairs. Now they were quiet. They were kissing. It was only their second date and I knew that Mama would not be taking Devon up the stairs. This did not usually occur until the third or fourth date, and never on the first or second. Mama had principles, and yet one thing was certain: Devon would come up the stairs in due course. I heard rustling sounds and after several minutes there was conversation and laughter. Mama was urging the boy to go but he resisted. His hands were all over her. Mama snapped at him playfully. Finally the door opened and closed and Mama was coming up the stairs. I startled her. "Aiy, guey!" she squealed softly, "Emil, you scared me." Her hand went up to pull her blouse together where it had become unbuttoned. This was an act of discretion and not one of modesty. She sat on the stair beside me and I could smell the boy’s cologne mixed with her perfume. "What were you doing? Spying on me?" She tousled my hair.

　

"I can’t sleep," I told her. "It’s late, Mama, and you have to get up for work tomorrow."

　

She looked down at me from her beautiful height, under a radiant nimbus of dark, dense hair, "Si, Jefe. Lo siento, senor," she said, her tongue fluttering. My Spanish wasn’t as good as Choy’s, but I laughed softly.

　

"Why do you want to go with a boy for?" I asked.

　

Mama bumped her shoulder against my shoulder, "He’s two years older than you, Papi." That made him half her age. I told her about Pia going to see Vassar outside the theater, how she lied about having to pee so she could see him in private, without Choy or me nearby. Mama looked worried for me. "They work together, right? They’re friends?" I nodded. "Probably she just wanted to speak to him about something and couldn’t in the movies. What did she say?" I told Mama that I had not questioned Pia concerning this incident, that I was too troubled about how she might answer, or what she might think of me, acting the jealous boyfriend. Mama said, "Nati say Pia likes that boy too, no?" Her eyes were severe, questioning me, in the dark.

　

I shrugged. "Pia says he’s a pig and that he cheapens himself with too many girls." Mama was silent for a moment.

　

"You can’t believe everything a girl says, especially when it comes to boys," Mama told me. I told Mama that I loved Pia, that I was in love with her, that I could not imagine a more beautiful girl. "I know," Mama said, and then she went.

　

*

"Don’t be so stupid, Emil," my sister told me once. "She is pretending to be your so-called girl so she can be closer to Vassar and me. She wants us to break up and thinks if she watches it will happen sooner." I didn’t see the point of this since the three of them worked together and Pia had plenty of time to watch Vassar and Choy, nor could I see why Pia would think that watching Vassar and Choy would cause them to break up faster. But Choy had her own ways of reasoning which were foreign to me.

　

I insisted that Choy answer my question, "Has Pia told you she is interested in Vassar?"

　

She made a sound with her cheek and her eyes were slits through which her contempt shone like a black light, "Of course not, she says he’s ugly. But she’s lying, Emil. Of course he’s not ugly!"

　

"He is to me," I ventured, and it looked for a moment that my sister would gain the advantage of me with a small mouthful of words, but decided against it. Why, I don’t know, since she never seemed reluctant to hurt me before. In fact Choy seemed to enjoy hurting me, and I used this as armor against her as well as a sustaining force in my belief that Pia did not care for Vassar. Choy would claim that Pia desired Vassar only to trouble me, and because her own vanity made such a claim necessary.

　

*

　

Pia had a day off and I borrowed Nati’s car and went to see her. Her mother and sister were away and I was happy to have my girl to myself. Pia was still dressed in pajamas though it was nearly noon, and her face looked plain. It seemed to me that when I was apart from her she became more beautiful than she really was. Her eyes were wide as we sat in the kitchen and drank coffee, wide and paying attention to something behind her eyes and not in front of them. The top button of her pajamas was fastened, and Pia’s breasts were soft little mysteries underneath the powder-blue satin. But I had seen for myself that she was not barren like Nati said, that the skin of her breasts was smooth and white, that there was a soft excess of flesh underneath. How much I desired that flesh I can’t explain.

　

She asked, "Do you notice anything different?" and suddenly her face was present again instead of looking like a picture in a book, or a memory. I looked at my girl all over, up and down, even under the table at her stockinged feet. She laughed, "No, I mean in the room!" I looked around the room, but as it happened I was never one for noticing things in rooms. I looked at faces, eyes, the soft warm thresh of living things. I was blind to objects. I shrugged, having made my best effort. "The fish-tank, Emil," Pia said loudly, pointing her delicate finger, "Earth to Emil!" I looked where her fingernail pointed and saw the square tank with a handful of fish moving inside it. A cold thresh of living things, but I had missed it. Who could care for fish? Pia stood and padded across the floor. The blouse of her pajamas was wrinkled and bunched from sitting, and when she stooped over to look at the fish the seat of her pajamas were smooth. I took my eyes away as fast as I could because to look longer would have been unbearable. My heart beat angrily against my shirt. In seconds I looked again. Pia was chittering away at the fish and the fish darted this way and that, no doubt believing her to be a predator, or the god of fish. When Pia asked if I was going to come and see the fish I rose with some effort and stood beside her.

　

"I don’t care for fish," I told my girl, "I would rather look at you."

　

Pia barely raised her eyes to me, "Aw, you’re sweet, Emil." In a few moments we returned to our coffee. I had not even the courage to touch her. Suddenly my heart beat fast again and with a red face I put the question to her.

　

"Pia, will you tell me why you went to see Vassar at the theater?"

　

My girl scowled at me, "Emil, I don’t like it when you act jealous."

　

"I’m not acting," I told her, "I’m jealous."

　

Pia laughed, "That’s not how I meant it. I mean, I don’t like it when you’re jealous! It was nothing. It wasn’t like I went to see him in a sneaky way." There was some silence, and finally Pia said, "Oh alright. Something happened at work that day and I wanted to know if he told Choy about it. I wanted to ask him not to tell her, because I know how she is." My heart doubled its pace, and I felt sick to my stomach. Pia smiled and her eyes went inward again, and she was plainly recollecting the event which she had mentioned and it was also plain that she was enjoying the recollection. I felt hot in my stomach and sick at the same time. I wanted to be home in my room with Nati, another person to whom nothing special ever happened. I was jealous of the fish which by a miraculous stroke of luck had won Pia’s affection. "Do you want more coffee?" she asked me, as if leaving the matter as it stood between us was enough.

　

"What happened, Pia?" I asked her, and my voice sounded so strange her eyes flashed when she looked at me.

　

"Nothing! It was nothing, just…I know it would make Choy mad, that’s all. We were fooling around because it wasn’t too busy, just joking and stuff, and Vassar spilled some Orange Julius on my blouse, you know, on accident. We were laughing and all of a sudden he had a napkin and was trying to clean my blouse, and he felt my breast. It wasn’t on purpose, Emil, he was trying to help because he felt bad. See, it was nothing, like I told you. But you know how Choy is, she’s so jealous, she would think he did it on purpose. And worse than that, she would think that I liked it!" Pia rolled her eyes and sipped her coffee.

　

My belly was hot and I felt sick. I was also angry because that was something a pig like Vassar would do. For a little while I couldn’t say anything but then I said, "He did do it on purpose, because he’s a pig."

　

Pia’s eyebrows came together and she glared. "Oh come on. It’s not like Vassar never touched a girl’s breast before!" Pia took her coffee cup to the sink and emptied it, and then chittered at the fish. After a little while I politely excused myself and went home to my Nati.

　

*

　

By the time I arrived home I was ashamed of myself. As I drove the old car under the thick trees and through the light-streaked shade I realized that I had made too much of nothing. Pia’s explanation had made her visit to Vassar outside the theater understandable and perfectly logical. It was what Pia would do. My worries were the result of my bad feelings for myself, that despite my hopes and wishes I did not deserve Pia. At least that is how I felt. My lack of confidence was the most unattractive thing about me and yet I couldn’t seem to do much about it. Nati told me that girls do not like boys who cannot assert themselves and are not willing to fight for what they want, that they disrespect complacency and resignation. She told me that jealous feelings were the result of these deficiencies, but despite this she said Pia was not worth troubling myself over and less than a minute after saying that jealousy came from weakness she warned me not to trust Pia. So what was I to do? Be strong and fight for her and play the deluded lover or trust my suspicions and look like a weakling? With all of this was the sickening knowledge that Vassar had stolen a pleasure which I believed had been reserved to me. Had any other man touched Pia’s breast, even through her clothing? I didn’t think this was possible at all. Pia was a good girl and stood guard over her virginity like a colossus. It was because of this that whenever I thought of my girl’s little breasts it filled me with desire so hot my eyes burned. And this fool of a man had blundered against the object of my desire with his apish hand. I was sick with anger and longing and did nothing for the rest of the day but lie on my bed. Had he felt the nipple? I was sure he must have. Maybe to a pig like Vassar the sensation of a woman’s nipple against his fingers was something trivial. Pia had said as much. Of course Vassar had felt a woman’s breast many times, and because of this it was nothing to him and because it was nothing to him it was no offense to Pia. My heart beat furiously when I thought of these things. If it had been my hand that glanced across Pia’s breast, then this would have been offensive, merely because I had never touched a woman’s breast and the sensation – or simply the event itself – would have caused in me a great deal of wonder and pleasure. As long as it was Vassar’s hand, the blue-eyed, pot-bellied lover, it was trivial, a nothing. In being a pig he could not give offense so easily. In being shy, and a gentleman, it was Emil whose hand could give offense: my innocent hand, no less, by virtue of its innocence. And now I was no longer ashamed of myself for my anger or my jealousy. I wished I had put my feelings to Pia directly. I wished I had said to her what she ought to have heard from me.

　

I lay on my bed and Nati was talking to me and while she spoke she was pressing clothes on a small board at the foot of her bed. I already mentioned some of the things she said, the things that confused me and hurt me, but there were other things which made my belly sour with anger, my head light with it.

"For the most part, Emil, women are drawn to men who strongly desire them, because this gives them power over those men, it lets them have some control. Men are too big and women cannot control them otherwise. If you don’t seem to want it enough, a girl will not be interested in you. If you pretend not to want it at all, this game only works for a short time. If you continue with it you will look like a eunuch to her. Do you know what a eunuch is? It’s a man with his balls cut off. The problem with you, Emil, is that you play the eunuch when what you want to do is be respectful. You are too nice and you turn her off. You ask for a kiss when what she wants is a man who knows when he has permission, a man who won’t ask. You tell her she is beautiful and that you love her but you take no chances. You tell me you never touched her breast and this rival of yours has done it already and she isn’t even his girl. You’re smart enough to see that this girl of yours is happy over it. Why is she happy over it? Because Choy’s novio makes sure every girl knows he wants what she has between her legs. He struts like a bull and makes sure all the cows know that he has not had his balls cut off. And so your sweetheart is pleased because this big bull has touched her breast. On accident, so she says? My ass it was. She knows it wasn’t. And you lay there and feel sorry for yourself while your sweetheart is at home dreaming of the big bull and scheming on how to take him away from Choy."

　

Back and forth went the hot iron, steaming and puffing.

　

"Of course she denies that she feels something for him, but that is insurance against looking foolish, against feeling foolish, against heartbreak. As long as he does not belong to her, she will not admit her feelings to anyone, perhaps not even to herself." I looked at the ceiling and hated my aunt for a short time. "She is the worst kind of girl for a boy like you, Emil, if only you could see it. This virtue you see in her, it’s only pretend. If she is a virgin it is only because no man has pursued her. She is an easy one to catch. You court her and tell her you love her, but you haven’t pursued her. She runs slow and you run even slower behind. When she stops, you stop. You think this is respect, but she knows what it is. You don’t want it enough. You don’t have your head full of it. If you do, you hide it. You hide your desire and give her words instead. That is how your father lost your mama. He refused to stake his claim. He gave her too many words. He gave her more respect than she deserved, and he gave her more freedom than she could be sensible with. It was only a matter of time. Soon she was sleeping with whomever she pleased, and even when he knew of it he failed to be strong. He didn’t know how deep the old world ran in your mama’s blood. She couldn’t respect a man like him, as much as she tried. She wasn’t a girl you could forgive for such a thing, because she would only thumb her nose at your forgiveness and move on. I know you don’t want to hear these things but you need to. That girl of yours reminds me of your mama when we were younger, before I got married and went away. Every man she saw, her eyes were all over him, studying him, searching him out, to see if he wanted it. She insisted upon being noticed by such men, no matter who they were, rich or poor, ugly or handsome. Men who didn’t seem to want it enough were of no interest to her. If a man was indifferent to her for even a short time she began to hate him. Choy is the same way, and so is Pia, but Pia is also a liar. Pia pretends to be something she isn’t. She knows she is not beautiful – oh, I know she is to you, Emil – and so she puts on a show of virtue to turn her unwanted virginity into something of value by giving it a better name: chastity. Oh, the number of chaste and bitter old hags in the world. Not that there aren’t virtuous women, Emil. There are. I’m not saying I am one, but they exist. You need to find one of them, Emil. You need to find a good girl so that your words won’t be wasted, a girl who will value the respect you pay her. But even with such a girl, you will need to stake your claim. You will have to let her know that you will fight for her. Your respect and your kind words only go so far, Emil. You have to show your strength. No woman, good or bad, will love a weak man. Not for long."

　

The iron hissed and puffed and Nati’s brown hand pushed and pulled it back and forth.

　

*

　

Several days went by and I did not see Pia nor speak to her on the phone. During this time I was rewarded by feelings which were nothing but self-deceptions. I felt that I was punishing my girl when of course the only one being hurt was myself, and I was glad with a hope that was nothing but vanity: that my girl would be wondering what was wrong and call me, which would in turn allow me to have the pleasure of ignoring her call. This was not to happen, and after four days I was very sullen. Nati encouraged me to do one of two things: forget the skinny gringa or go and stake my claim. At dinner my aunt told me that giving Vassar a punch in the nose would be a step in the right direction. He had groped my girl and he deserved it. Mama became angry with Nati and I saw her little hands bunch up into fists. "Don’t tell him that, Nati, are you crazy? Vassar is much bigger and you know he’s not a fighter."

　

I scowled at Mama, "How do you know I’m not a fighter?"

　

Mama had meant to compliment me but hurt me instead. Her big eyes darted towards me. Then they cooled, and she blinked, "You know what I mean, Emil. You’re a good person, you’re a gentleman, like your father."

　

"Maybe I’m not so gentle," I said, and pushed my plate away.

　

Nati said, quickly, "Sometimes it doesn’t pay to be gentle."

　

There was a long silence and the only sound was forks squeaking against plates. It occurred to me that I had not seen much of Choy. She was absent a great deal but for a few days she was more absent than usual. "What’s going on with Choy? I’ve hardly seen her lately," I asked, partly to ease the tension. I didn’t like seeing Nati and Mama unhappy with one another. Mama and Nati looked at each other.

　

"She’s been keeping to her room," Nati said, "She and Vassar had a fight. They broke up and she quit the Orange Julius." My heart fell to the floor with a thump, like a piece of rotten fruit falling from a tree.

　

Mama looked concerned, "Oh, I didn’t know. She never told me." I knew what Nati was thinking, and if I could have worked my aunt’s tongue it would have said, Of course you didn’t know. You’re hardly ever here. I don’t recall ever being as frightened as I was at that moment and to this day I remember it like a bad dream that you never forget. Vassar and Choy had been going together for almost a year. They spoke of getting married, though never too seriously. It was hard for me to think that Vassar was single again, and even worse, that he and Pia were working together without Choy around.

　

I asked Nati when this break-up occurred, and she said, "A couple of days ago. Don’t you know already? Hasn’t your sweetheart mentioned it?"

　

"No," I said. "I haven’t spoken to her for a few days."

　

Nati shook her head at me. I could see what she was thinking behind that furrowed forehead: And here you sit like a lump while your girl is slipping away from you. I couldn’t eat anymore and decided to go to my room. I heard Choy chattering on her phone through the wall, but I didn’t listen. I picked up my phone and punched in Pia’s number. It went at once to her voice-mail. Her phone was turned off. My heart began to pound in my chest, in my ears. In a state of blank-faced panic I put on my shoes and took Nati’s car to go and see my girl.

　

*

　

The Newcourt Plaza was a place of dazzling beauty, energy, and dire judgment. I hated the place and had only been there one or two times, to see Pia, naturally. The Orange Julius was deep inside this hot, noisy animal, and I walked through its bright guts slowly but deliberately. I wore my jacket though it was not cold, for the comfort of having something to pull around me. I tried to think positively, but this was something as difficult and strange to me as some exotic foreign language. There was just no way to do it. This wasn’t so much an example of negative thinking as it was an acceptance of the truth. As much as I believed what Nati had told me I felt helpless to change the course of things. Instead of fighting it I embraced it, and this made me angry, but my anger did not work constructively, as it might have in others. It worked against me to destroy me, and in my anger I reveled in my destruction. What could Pia see in that soft-bellied ape apart from his blue eyes, his big white teeth? He acted the lover and this was enough to ensure him success with a certain type of girl, and each success made the next one easier. He was not ambitious, he had no dreams. He could make you laugh. He wasn’t a drinker, or a parasite. Choy told me once that she would never kiss a man who smoked. Vassar smoked like a card-sharp in a dime novel. Pia claimed to detest smoking. I decided that a woman will forgive a man for any vice at all, and that a vice is only truly a vice when it is practiced by a man who hasn’t managed to interest her. As I walked I let my anger build by laying one angry thought upon another. I looked at the little clutches of girls that wandered this way and that. They all looked the same, and this was by design, yet their sameness was the very thing which gave them the wherewithal to be noticed by the packs of young men they tracked and followed. Their cloying, candied smell was thick in the air. Soon I was close enough to the Orange Julius to see that its narrow counter was vacant. Being part of a big complex of shops it was a small affair. Teenagers milled about but no one was at the counter. I got closer and became agitated, and my hands were sweating. Suddenly the two of them appeared from the back, Pia walking quickly and Vassar close behind. She was laughing and he put his hands on her shoulders, then moved away from her. Her long hair was pinned up beneath a paper hat, a few strands dangled down. She took some cups out of a plastic sleeve and placed them with a bunch of others on the counter, then turned over her shoulder to say something to Vassar, who stood doing nothing a few feet away. He laughed. Now Vassar slipped into the back, and Pia followed. I heard her squeal with laughter. What would I say to her? What reason did I have to come and see her at work, something I rarely ever did? As I stood there wondering what to do, Pia appeared again and this time she saw me and waved. I wandered over to the counter and as I drew closer to my girl I could see that she was in make-up. Her lips appeared fuller, her dark eyes more beautiful than I had ever seen them. Of everything painful I had ever known the pain at that moment was the worst. I could try and describe the experience but the words would fail. You would have to be standing inside my skin to know. My heart was sick, my stomach burned with a cold flame, a diseased flame. She was shining, glistening with happiness. Her lips, a deep crimson, literally caught the bright ceiling lights and shot them back at me like tiny knives.

　

"Emil, what is it? What’s the matter?" She asked me, concerned. "Did something happen? What’s wrong, Emil?" She came from behind the counter through a small entrance at the side. She came close to me and her brows were drawn together. "Emil, what’s the matter?" she said again, urgently. I must have been a sight. The bull pressed his belly against the counter and looked bothered. What distraction is this, he must have thought.

　

"You smell like smoke," I said.

　

Pia’s expression suffered a sea-change. She let out a long breath and blinked, "What?"

　

"Never mind," I said, and went away. She called out to me once.

　

*

　

Later that evening Pia gave me a call and despite my plans I answered on the second ring. Now I was truly surprised, for instead of a big argument Pia seemed animated and said nothing of my appearance at the Plaza but instead offered me a job. "I know you need to work," she said, barely pausing, "and we haven’t found anyone since Choy quit. We need more help because the busy season is coming. Well?"

　

I was too shocked to answer at first and Pia repeated her last word. It seemed to me very obvious that if she and Vassar were carrying on the last thing she would want was me hanging around. I asked her, "You aren’t mad at me?"

　

Pia said, "Hm? No, why? Come on, Emil, this will be good for you. You need to be more independent. Can you come tomorrow and speak with Monika, the manager here? I told her you would." I was not happy about the prospect of having a job but I could not refuse, so I told Pia I would do as she asked. "Okay, come tomorrow at one. Dress nice, shave. It won’t be a lot of money but still. You can get your own car maybe?" She spoke in such a way that I could hear her smile. My stomach was full of a pleasant warmth for a change. She was glad for me. When I got off the phone I felt nervous and happy at the same time. I had held a few jobs in the past but never for very long. I found Nati and Mama in the living room and the television was on. At once they saw the change that had come over me.

　

Mama lifted her beautiful eyes to me and smiled, "Okay, you win the lottery or what, ese?" Nati’s brows came together and I could see she was suspicious of me.

　

"No date?" I asked Mama, and sat down beside her, too casually perhaps, flopping all my weight like a barrow full of wood onto the sofa. Nati sat on the adjacent sofa. Both ladies were knitting, and I realized I had interrupted a lesson. The thing Mama held in her slender hands looked preposterous. She was not made to knit.

　

"Nope. Devon had to go out of town."

　

　

"To see his other girl," Nati said, and Mama waved her hand at her sister.

　

"So tell us," Mama said, "How come you’re so happy?" I turned so that I could look at Mama and Nati both, and I was very close to Mama. My knee bumped into her leg, the one she had crossed over the other. She wore shimmery pajama pants and a camisole, her hair tied in a high pony-tail so tight her eyes were drawn back. She blinked at me, waiting for an answer.

　

I laughed, "You look like a Japanese girl." She continued to blink. At last I told her, "I’m going for an interview tomorrow at the Plaza, to get a job."

　

Mama was surprised and patted my leg, "Good for you! What kind of a job?"

　

"Choy’s job," I said. There was a long pause and Mama looked at Nati and Nati paid attention to the television.

　

"Well I hope it works out for you," Mama said.

　

*

　

Monika was a tall, slender woman with blonde hair and a pretty face but no figure to speak of. In this respect she was much like Pia. For the first time I understood that Vassar had the words "Team Leader" embossed on his name tag. Since Pia and myself were the only employees besides Monika I thought the title was grandiose, and therefore fitting for Vassar. After a short interview I filled out some paperwork and was asked to begin immediately, which was a surprise. I was given a smock, a paper hat, and a flimsy trainee’s badge with my name markered in: all the accouterments of honest, entry-level work. Pia had the job of training me and we spent most of our time away from the counter. Pia explained that there was quite a lot of work to do for such a little establishment. We had to do the stocking as there was a delivery that day. We also did the inventory, which afforded me a fair amount of time to stand close to Pia. She smelled strong of perfume, and her face was made up. I liked to watch her eyes open and close, her caked lashes going up and down like a sultan’s fans. She was very officious and serious and strongly discouraged me when I tried to give her a sign of my affection. "None of that here, Emil," she warned me, "Absolutely none."

　

Perhaps she felt that I was beneath her now. Vassar kept his distance and busied himself in front although it was very slow. He asked me about Choy and I told him she was the same as always, though that was a lie. At five P.M. Monika went home and reminded us that Vassar was in charge. Vassar made a joke. "You heard that, Pia, you have to do whatever I say."

　

Pia rolled her eyes and smiled, showing her dimples. "Yes, sir," she said, dramatically.

　

Very shortly after Monika left Vassar went out the back door to smoke a cigarette. Without a word to me, and only a half a moment later, Pia went out the door. My heart thumped as I found myself alone in the Orange Julius with no idea as to what to do in the event of receiving a customer. I became incensed with anger and stood stock still in front of the storage room. The clipboard shook in my hands. I finally turned around to look into the front. There was no one at the counter. A few teens wandered to and fro along the rows of shops. It seemed like a terribly long time but it was probably not much more than a minute. At last the door opened and Pia came back in. The smell of cigarette smoke followed her. "Sorry," she said, swinging her clipboard at her side, "Did anybody come?" Her big eyes blinked at me.

　

"No," I said, "But if someone did, what should I have done? Don’t leave me alone until I know what I’m doing."

　

Pia said, "Oh, it was only for a second. I had to ask Vassar something about the inventory."

　

"And you had to wait until he went outside to ask him?" I said. It was not a good idea for me to act jealous on my first day, but I thought the question deserved to be asked, though rhetorically. Pia didn’t seem bothered, however, and we proceeded with the inventory.

　

As if reading my thoughts, Pia said, "Maybe they won’t be broke-up for very long. He still talks about her all the time." I could see the displeasure this thought caused her.

　

"I don’t really care," I said. Suddenly it occurred to me. What better way to ensure that Choy would not return to her job than to hurry someone else into the position? If Pia had designs on Vassar it would be in her best interest to keep Choy away. It was Pia’s idea. Later on in the evening, as Pia was showing me how to shut down the machines and do the clean-up, I said to her, "If they get back together, Choy will want her job back. If that happens I think I should let her have it."

　

Pia’s brow wrinkled, "Why? She quit, just like that, no notice, no nothing. She can’t get her job back, Emil."

　

She was quite serious, even somewhat vicious. The counter she was wiping became exeedingly clean as her hand quickened and applied more force to the cloth. Either Pia was being transparent or I was seeing things through the distorted lens of jealousy. As usual I felt angry and weak, as if all I could do was witness the course of events without being able to influence them. Whatever happened would happen in complete disregard to me. I was outside the busy web of cause and effect. Inert and sterile. The three of us closed and departed together out the back door. Pia and Vassar had parked in the back, close to the door, but of course I had parked Nati’s car in front of the Plaza and entered that way, so now I had to walk all the way around. "Just go back through," Vassar told me, and waved his keys. He went past me and opened the back door, "Remember to lock it, and go on through to the front. It’ll take you forever to walk around this way." Pia had gotten into her car and I felt anxious. I wanted to see her start the car and drive off. I had forgotten to ask her about seeing her when we were done with work and she had not mentioned anything.

　

"I don’t mind walking," I said, stalling, "It’s a nice night." Vassar shrugged, locked the door, and pulled it closed again, then tucked the keys back in his pocket. Pia had still not started her car. She was looking at herself in the rear-view mirror, something on her chin, the beginning of a pimple. I had noticed it before. She fussed in the mirror. Vassar said goodnight and got in his truck. I began to walk away, hands in my pockets, still feeling a phantom paper hat on my head. The two cars started and drove off. I kept my eyes on them while they went along in the dark through the parking lot. Vassar was behind Pia, his bully truck stalking her little Japanese four-cylinder. But when they made it to the street, Pia went off one way and Vassar went the other. I heard his truck’s horn bleat twice.

　

*

　

I drove to Pia’s apartment. I took plenty of time walking around the Plaza to get to the car and she should have arrived home well ahead of me. Her car was not in its usual place out front along the curb. That was where she always parked, since there was no room in the car-port behind the complex. I drove on down the street and then came back in the other direction and parked along the curb a good distance from her apartment building. I turned off the engine and sat in the dark. I could feel my heart in my throat. I considered calling Pia, but decided against it. That was the problem with cell phones. They could not tell you where someone was. Of course Pia could be any number of places. Perhaps she had to stop for gas, or to pick something up from the store. I waited and waited. When she came she would be heading towards me, the same way I had come, but she would do a U-turn and park along the curb and not notice my car. It was dark and I was far enough away from the reach of the head-lights. Once I knew she was home I could go home and call her. I thought of simply driving off but I knew myself too well and I would stay put until my girl arrived home. If too much time passed I would drive to Vassar’s house. He lived with his parents on the south end of town. If Pia’s car was at Vassar’s then I would know my suspicions were well-founded and then I would simply quit my job and forget about her. She would never see nor hear from me again. It was very simple. There was no point in fighting for her. A girl does not choose her lover based on how much physical harm he can bring to his rivals. We were not beasts in the jungle. I would wage my fight with words and with the fidelity of my feelings. If those failed to win her then she was not for me to win. I sat and waited, and time slowed down. The stars were clear in the night sky over the lake and I could see the lights of the ferry that was making its way across the still water. Occasionally a car passed by. Whenever I saw a car coming over the slight rise in the road in front of Pia’s apartment my heart would flutter like a rabbit’s, but onward the lights would come and zoom past me, leaving me to the dark. The old burning began in the hollow of my stomach when I thought of Pia and Vassar together, his thick white fingers in her hair, on the soft rise of her little breast. I saw my girl with her eyes closed and her mouth open, cupped against his mouth, her jaw working, tongue pushing and pushing. I felt hot and nauseous. When I was allowed to kiss Pia there was very little passion. A few times our tongues pushed together, and the sensation made me stiff. Perhaps I was simply not aggressive enough. If I had held her jaw in my hand and given her a real kiss, whether she liked it or not, maybe she would have responded in kind? That’s what Nati would have told me. When I decided that enough time had passed I drove towards Vassar’s house.

　

Of course my suspicions were accurate, and there was Pia’s little car, parked behind Vassar’s truck in the drive. My first instinct was to drive away, to put as much distance between myself and the vision that could do nothing but kill me, but this feeling was quickly overwhelmed by the desire for certainty. I reminded myself, accessing a tiny and remote strand of pure reason that was somehow still within reach, that there could have been an innocent reason for Pia’s being at Vassar’s house. They were friends, after all.

　

I parked on the opposite side of the street and turned the engine off. I sat in silence for quite some time, trying to muster up the courage to confront my girl and my enemy. I let my anger take over. I let myself acknowledge with certainty that what Nati said was true. Pia was a liar. She had pretended to be my girl in order to be closer to Vassar and Choy, to spend as much time in their presence as she could. Ever since the break-up she had not acted like my girl. She had not called me. She was cold and distant at work. I was incensed by their little meetings – in front of the theater, behind the Orange Julius – which seemed to me now as if they could only have occurred for one reason, and that reason was the very same that brought her to Vassar’s house tonight.

　

When I was angry enough I got out of the car and headed up the driveway. The sight of the front door made my stomach hot, and I stood there for a moment wondering what to do. The garage was open and I could see his father’s car. I decided to go around the house, toward the back. I had been there enough times and remembered that there was a pool, and a swing. You sat in the swing and gazed at the stars in the dark sky, or at the starlight reflected on the still water of the pool. If you were someone to whom good things happened you might have a girl beside you, and the starry sky and the still water beaded with starlight would seem like a kind of magic orchestrated solely for you. The world was passive and soft and wide, pregnant with opportunity. And there you sat, the foster child of good fortune, with no fears, suspicions, or worries running like hot wires through the veins in your head, wires that hummed and sparked and spoiled everything with their incessant current.

　

I walked as quietly as I could until I could see into the back. Looking hard to the left I saw the swing. I stood like a thief and felt sick because I had to steal the darkness and use it for my own purposes. I didn’t belong underneath its soft cover. It wasn’t for me. There sat Vassar and Pia. Pia’s back was towards me. She was seated so that she was turned towards him, with one of her legs drawn up. I heard her laugh softly, and a shock of anger took hold of me, a hot conflagration so strong I nearly felt my bladder loosen and let go. My mouth went dry.

　

"You lousy bastard," I said, coming out of the shadows into the dim light radiating from the screened porch behind the swing. It was suddenly dream-like. It was a moment I would remember forever and that knowledge gave the scene a surreal quality. I bunched my fists as I walked, though what I would do with them I had no idea. I had never hit anyone before. Pia said something and was on her feet.

　

"Emil! Jesus!" she cried in alarm.

　

"Damn it," Vassar said, and stood up. "What the hell did you do, follow us?"

　

I stopped and faced my girl and my enemy. Only now did I discover that I had pissed myself. It was the smell that alerted me to it more than the sensation. I said to Pia, "I sit home alone, and here you are with him."

　

"We’re just talking" Pia said, "Emil, it’s crazy to follow people and spy on them."

　

"You’re my girl, not his," I said, but added, "Or so I thought."

　

"Emil, I can’t go with you if you’re going to do these crazy things. You’re too jealous. It scares me."

　

"I’m not the guilty one," I said, and my brain tried to find the right words to convey what I wished, and to my surprise it didn’t fail utterly, as it usually did when I was upset. "You blame me for being jealous, but you caused my jealousy by not being trustworthy, then you have the convenience of using my jealousy as an excuse for your bad behavior."

　

"My bad behavior?" Pia asked, and was almost laughing. Vassar stood protectively behind her, glowering at me. He made his usual smirk and shook his head.

　

"Yes," I told Pia, "You’re a bad person. You’re a liar, too."

　

"Oh, you’re crazy!" Pia said. "We were just talking!"

　

When Vassar came around to tell me to leave I rushed him. Pia squealed and I managed to grab Vassar at the front of his shirt. I drew my arm back and took a swing. Vassar pulled his head back and my knuckles glanced impotently across the front of his nose, barely touching him. At this point he gave me a push and sent me flying backwards. I fell down and when I made it to my feet I heard Pia cry out and felt a glaring impact to my face which sent me to the ground again. Pia was crying and yelling and kneeling over me. "Get something! He’s bleeding. Hurry!" she cried.

　

"Jesus, I hardly touched him," Vassar said, and went into the house. Soon I heard some conversation between Vassar and his parents.

　

"You hurt him," Pia told her shimmering knight, dabbing at my nose and mouth with a cloth. "My God, Vassar," She was impressed.

　

"Vas for Chrissake you could go to jail," said Mr. Pig. Mrs. Pig was mumbling something about an ambulance.

　

When I made it to my feet I wrested myself from Pia, held the cloth to my bleeding nose and mouth, and walked back to the car. At home Mama made a fuss over me and Nati kept telling me I had done the right thing in confronting the man who had put the moves on my girl. It was better to take a licking than to do nothing, she told me, and I would be stronger because of it. Needless to say I did not report to work the following day. The telephone rang and it was Monika. I did not take the phone, and Mama spoke with her for a long time before hanging up. Pia did not call me. When the evening came I turned my phone off. Later I came out of a doze and Nati was ironing clothes at the foot of her bed. Since our beds were pushed together the motion of her arm and the weight of the iron had wakened me.

"Don’t just lie there. Get up, Emil," she told me. "You’ll see what I said is true. This will make you stronger." Back and forth went the iron. "Come on, get up off the bed. You can fold the clothes."