Chasing Taboo

As Seneka glanced over the box of her Early Result Pregnancy Test, she wondered how long Wildcard had to live. Perhaps, if her elder brother was in one of his more benevolent moods, he’d give Dub C a good fifteen minute head start before he hurled after him with guns blazing, but still, her boyfriend’s days were most definitely numbered. For now, she decided to focus her worries on the present. She looked at the tiny cardboard box. Here we go, you little fuckin’ thing. It’s me versus you now.

The world went into late night TV slow motion as she opened it, revealing folded paper instruction and the encased stick of doom. It was hard to believe that the decoder of the most life-changing mystery she had ever encountered was in that benign, protective foil pouch. She pulled out the instructions first.

Hold test stick by thumb grip. Okay, sure.

Point absorbent tip downward in urine stream for five seconds only. Five seconds. In bold and italics—they were serious about this. Five seconds, you dumb bitch. You couldn’t keep your legs closed, so it’s clear you don’t follow advice very well. We mean it. Five motherfucking seconds.

If you prefer, urinate into a clean, dry cup and dip the entire absorbent tip into the cup for twenty seconds. Seneka laughed. Are there girls who just can’t handle peeing on stuff?

Replace cap and lay on flat surface with result window facing up. This was instruction she needed. She didn’t want to put that thing down face up one bit—she wanted to avoid looking at that tiny white screen for as long as possible.

You can read your results after two minutes. Two minutes also in bold. A blue line in the Control Window and a blue line in the Result Window indicate a positive result. Noted. A blue line in the Control Window and no line in the Result Window indicate a negative result. Also noted.

Seneka wanted to slap all those girls in the commercials who complain that generic pregnancy tests weren’t clear. Come on. How dumb were those bitches?

Another instruction made her laugh. DO NOT read result after ten minutes. DO NOT in bold caps. She giggled and pictured someone in person warning her. Seriously. Don’t do it. Your brain will explode, mountains will crumble into the sea, and the space time continuum will reverse itself if you dare look at the Result Window after the ten minute mark.

She gulped, and she peed. She peed on the stick. Now for those five seconds. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Five seconds.

Okay, she followed instructions and now she could read the results in two minutes. Two minutes. She lifted up the stick and closed her eyes tight. Two minutes.

Two minutes? Fuck that, she was looking. Her eyes opened and her heart stopped. One line. No, two lines. Two clear solid lines. Positive.

“Oh, fuck.” She trembled. “Oh, fuck me.”

No point in waiting for two minutes now. It wasn’t like the line in the Result Window was going to go away.

She dropped the test and the box into the waste basket. She tried to get up, but she ended up collapsing into the tub, a hundred-pound pile of cute little Asian stripper, trying to figure out what the hell she was going to do. Seneka didn’t know much about raising kids, but she was pretty confident that her drug-dealing, gun-slinging brothers and the Blades crew didn’t exactly offer an optimal child-rearing environment. However, there was someone else who knew a hell of a lot more about raising a kid in this fucked up city than she did.

Beep.

Olivia woke with what felt like an adrenaline shot to the chest, drenched in sweat, clutching the sheets with a spiking uproar rushing through her torso. She felt the aftershock of what she believed to be a forgotten nightmare, twisting her senses and breaking her composure, but the nightmare was real. She was here, here at 912 Branden, and she was here to stay. Her suitcases still lay open on the floor, next to the panties that Hero had pulled off her the night before in a fit of victorious passion, and her inner thighs were still sore from the consummation of their redefined unity.

The morning sunlight flooded into the 912 kitchen, and Hero was cracking eggs. The sound of bacon sizzling on the pan sang in harmony with Hero’s joyous whistling, and his four roommates stood back, watching in silent horror.

“He’s so…” whispered Ace.

“…happy,” punctuated Stone.

Mixer clung onto Wildcard. “I’m scared!”

Wildcard shoved the kid off of him as Olivia joined the perplexed posse. Hero called her over and gave her a kiss, which she welcomed with a knot in her stomach.

Mixer’s head panned toward Olivia with sluggish speed. “What did you do to him!?”

Stone frowned. Perhaps Olivia’s presence should have somewhat alleviated the mystery behind Hero’s sudden reverie, but it didn’t at all. In fact, it compounded the confusion—they weren’t fighting.

“How do you like your eggs, chag’ya?” sparkled Hero.

“Scrambled, please.” She gave him three more nervous kisses.

Stoned wiped the sleepiness from his eye. “Okay, what the fuck is going on?”

Hero smiled at him. “Olivia’s living with us now.”

 “What!?” Stone was suddenly caffeinated by the news. “There’s already like a thousand people living here!”

“A thousand and one,” smiled Hero.

The boys took their seats around the table as Hero put their plates down. The next frown in the group cut itself into Wildcard’s brow.

“I’m glad you’re all happy and all, man, really, but don’t you think it’s a little soon for y’all to be—oh my God bacon!” Wildcard’s mouth was silenced by the insertion of greasy deliciousness.

Hero took his seat. “Where’s Seneka?”

“She took off,” said Wildcard, mouth full of bacon. “Doing girly shit with Pansy. I don’t know. Nails, hair, whatever the fuck bitches do.”

The boys braced themselves for Hero’s heavy hand of defiance to come crashing down on Wildcard’s stupid head, but Hero was busy smiling as Olivia scrunched her face into a little ball of a smile. He brushed a bit of food from the corner of her mouth.

“Hero,” said Wildcard. “Didn’t you hear me? I just called your sister a bitch.”

Hero looked over. “Huh?”

Ace put his hand over Wildcard’s mouth. “Uh… it’s just Tom is pissed at a snitch.”

Hero was blank.

 “Uhh—Disgusting to glitter a witch,” Mixer corrected

Stone looked up. “He just got the gist of his twitch?”

Wildcard pushed Ace’s hand out of the way. “There’s pus, cum, and piss and it itched!”

Hero’s face fell into an expressionless mask. “What the fuck are you guys on? Who the fuck is Tom—and I don’t want to hear shit about what’s itching, Dub C.” He stared. “Christ, y’all lost your damn minds?”

They said nothing, but Ace and Stone met each other with heavy, opinionated glances.

After breakfast, the boys dispersed and Hero started on the dishes, looking back at the porch with the sun glowing on his cheeks. He smiled at Olivia.

“O,” he said. “Let’s go outside.”

“Outside? Why?”

He leaned toward her. “Because it’s a beautiful day.” He took her hand. “Come on.”

He took her out through the back door, through the garden and toward the gazebo. Tiny shards of sunlight made their way to the surface of the hot tub, cutting slices of light across the gently drifting water. At first, Olivia looked down bashfully as he sat down next to Hero on the bench, but as she looked up at his face, she took a moment to absorb the image of it. His face was barely his at all. It was so flushed, so alive, so open. Just as the boys had said, he was just so happy. Olivia had no idea how to deal with a happy Hero.

“I see what you’re trying to do,” said Olivia. “It’s sweet, but it isn’t necessary.”

He put his arm around her. “I’m not trying to do anything but enjoy this beautiful sunny day with my chag’ya.”

“You’re trying to make a reference to the story I told you in your office that one time. Well played. It’s very romantic.”

He smiled. “You want romantic, I’ll show you romantic. Turn around.”

With a slight knot of fear in her belly, Olivia did. All she saw was a sea of lilies.

“Flowers are quite romantic, but I don’t see what you’re getting at.”

“Well maybe there’s something for you in those flowers.”

Olivia raised an eyebrow. “What, like a thousand bees?”

“Don’t be silly. Everything in this town is afraid of me and bees are no exception. Now go look. Remember what I said, sometimes something beautiful can come of nothing at all.”

Olivia gingerly made her way to flower bed and took a peek between the petals. There was a small, conspicuous white box. She looked back at Hero.

“You know, there are better ways to give me jewelry.”

“Jewelry my ass. I am way more inventive than that. Open the box.”

“Hero—”

“Will you just open the damn box so I can watch you squeal like a little girl?”

She took the box out of the flowers and opened it. It was a nine volt battery.

Hero stood behind her, put his arms around her waist, and kissed the side of her head. “Come on, let’s go put an end to that motherfucking beep. What do you say?”

She couldn’t move. She was stunned. She just watched him strut back to the door, looking back at her with that classic seductive smirk. “Come on.”

The smoke alarm was in the small entranceway that led into the garage. The most sinister and evil small, white, round, plastic mass on the planet Earth was about to be silenced. Silenced by that black and gold atomic bomb of victory that Olivia held in her grubby little hands. Hero set up the stepladder, and Olivia had a vice grip on her present.

He stepped onto the ladder. “Do you want to do it? Because I don’t want to take this moment away from you, I know you been waiting a good, long while.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” she said. “You do it.”

“You want to watch me do it?” He gave her another smirk and an eyebrow wiggle.

Olivia wanted to answer quickly, but she was overly conscious of the way she held her face. “Uhh… yes?”

“Okay, I’ll do it,” he smiled, stepping up the ladder. “All right smoke alarm, who’s your daddy?”

Beep. It was like the damn thing actually answered him.

“Fuckin’ Christ!” said Hero, jerking his face aside. “This fucker is loud when it’s in your face. Just for that, you gettin’ a spanking, smoke alarm!”

He tapped the side of it with a fake, angry face and pulled the battery tray open.

“Step one complete,” said Hero. “And now…” He held out his hand and Olivia handed him the new battery. He started to put it in its place, but stopped himself.

“Jesus, just do it!”

“I can’t just do it, chag’ya! Ain’t you ever heard of foreplay?” He suggestively pushed the battery in and out of the tray. “Yeah, you like that, don’t you smoke alarm?”

“Will you just put it in!?”

“Okay…” giggled Hero, twisting his face into a phony orgasm. “I’m putting it in… I’m putting it… you like that?” He made stupid moaning sounds as the battery slid into place. He closed the tray, stuck his tongue out, and hopped off the ladder with a joyous thump.

“There ya go, baby,” he said, sweeping her into his arms. “No more beep.” He kissed the side of her face. “That’s how much I love you, chag’ya. I even replace batteries for you!”

Olivia was ossified in his arms. She wondered how on Earth she slept through whatever Close Encounters shit had taken place last night. Certainly, an alien had taken over Hero’s body.

“Hold up.”

Olivia and Hero looked over to see a frowning, baffled Ace.

“As much as I hate to interrupt this cheesy-ass romance novel bullshit,” said Ace, “real fast, O, when time you gotta go to work?”

 “At one. Why?”

“’Cause I think it’s best, if you’re gonna be living here now, you should learn how to use that Sig. I’ll take you out somewhere, give you some gun training.”

Hero turned toward his brother, eyes piercing, holding up the bad battery. “You gonna what now?”

Ace looked at the battery. “You planning on hurting me with that?”

Hero put his hand down. “Why should Olivia go with you?”

Ace shrugged. “Because that’s what I do. I’m the gun guy. I always train people on guns. You hate teaching people shit. Kinda thought it was assumed I’d handle this.”

“But this is different,” said Hero.

“Why?”

“Fuck you! You know why.”

Olivia folded her arms. “What, you don’t trust me?” She had a joking tone, but she was a little genuinely offended.

Hero rolled his eyes. “Of course I trust you, it’s him I don’t trust.”

Ace stepped inward, launching a taunt. “I’ll show her how to work my pistol right, and then I’ll work your woman’s trigger ‘til she goes off.”

Olivia smirked. “Oh, Ace, you’re already turning me on.”

Ace threw his voice into a woman’s pitch. “Oh Ace, careful now, my safety’s off! Ooh!”

Hero pointed at both of them. “Fuck you, and fuck you, and don’t be gone long.”

Olivia and Ace drove a couple miles out of town to an abandoned field. It was funny, she had seen the spectrum from Sequoia Grove to Westcliff so many times, but she had never thought about what you see when you go sideways. Apparently nothing.

Ace set up their makeshift firing range. He set up one table near them for the gun and the rounds, and set up another table across the way. He lined the second table with jars and beer bottles.

Ace unloaded the case for Olivia’s new gun on the first table, giving her a clear view of the whole package. “Okay, this is a Sig Sauer Mosquito.” He turned the pistol so she could take a look at it. “You know what double action means?”

She shook her head.

“Okay, it’s like this,” he began, sucking in a deep breath. He pulled the clip out from the bottom. “This piece got a clip that holds twelve rounds. Pretty standard. Now when you load it, ya gotta make sure you hear the click, okay?” He popped it back into place.

“Okay,” she nodded

“Anyway, once you shoot, the slide will eject the round it’s already cocked and ready for the next shot. Here’s the safety.” He showed her. “Now when you got the safety off and this shit is loaded, don’t lose respect for what you got in your hand, all right?”

He held the gun out forward and explained what he was doing as he did it. “Now this ain’t a fuckin’ movie. Don’t turn the gun sideways and try to look all gangsta. And this shit too.” He bent his arm at the elbow, pointing the gun upward, a pose that reminded Olivia of just about every movie she had ever seen when the cop is creeping around a corner. “Don’t ever fucking hold a gun like this, it makes you vulnerable. You’re holding the gun but you ain’t firing yet? Point it to the ground. Like this.” He held his arms straight toward the ground.

She nodded. “Okay.”

“Now look at my hands,” he said, holding the gun forward with his left hand. “Grip at the knuckles, not at your fingertips. Now this should go without saying, but keep your finger away from the trigger until you ready to fire. It ain’t like you touch the thing ‘til you ready to pull, you don’t go near that shit ‘til it’s time, you feel me?”

She nodded again. “Okay.”

“Cup your palm under the grip like this with your left hand.”

She watched him do it and gulped.

“Okay, now you step back and watch what I’m doing.”

She watched him aim and fire and she nearly jumped out of her shoes. It was about ten times louder than she expected, but she still managed to observe the position of his body. She watched the rounds eject and disappear into the dried grass, and she watched his face tighten with every shot. His muscles stubbornly sustained their roles as the jerk of the gun challenged them. He took a breath as he slowly lowered the gun.

“Now this is real important. If you’re all panicked, you gonna miss your shot and you gotta make it count. Make sure you’re calm when you shooting, alright?”

She nodded. “Okay.”

He handed her the gun. “You got strong arms?”

“I think so.” She took it from him and held it awkwardly.

“A’ight. It’s a pretty light gun, you shouldn’t have problems, but… you know. Just asking anyway.”

He pressed the gun firmly into her right hand and she got tingly as he forced her fingers around the grip. “Remember, grip with your knuckles, not your fingertips.”

As her finger unconsciously drifted toward the trigger, he pulled it away. “No, no, no. Remember? Not ‘til you ready to fire. For now, put it here.” He pulled her finger to a new position. He took her left palm and cupped it under the grip and gently urged her to hold her hands forward. She tried to keep the gun up and hold it still, but she was trembling.

“You’re okay,” he whispered. “You’re doing great.”

She tried to focus on steadying the gun and eyeing that pile of broken glass across the field, but all she could think about was the warmth of Ace’s body behind her. All she could think about was the way his fingers felt as they rested gently on her forearms.

“Take in a deep breath,” he said. “Get comfortable with the way it feels in your hand, okay? Your arms tired?”

“Not really, no. But they keep shaking anyway.”

He affectionately touched each of her shoulders and whispered, “Just breathe.”

She did.

“Fire.”

She pulled the trigger, jumped a little as the bang rattled her eardrums, and watched a jar explode upon impact. Warmth emerged in the pit of her stomach and she lost some feeling in her face.

“Fuck!” Ace gasped. “Nice shot!”

“Thanks.”

“How did that feel?”

“It felt good.”

“Okay, try again,” he said. “This time part your legs a little bit. It’ll help your balance.”

She fired again, her lips twitching with excitement as another bottle popped into pieces. She sucked on her lips waiting for her next command to pull that trigger.

“Olivia…” Ace said, his voiced pinched with concern.

“Yeah?” She was still holding the gun happily.

“Is this turning you on?”

She lowered it. “What? No! Of course not!”

“Chag’ya, I’m tryin’ to teach you how to use a lethal firearm and you grinding on me like I’m talking dirty to you.”

“I am not!”

He took the gun from her hand. “You get off on this shit?”

“No! You’re the one who’s got your body all pressed against me, whispering and touching me.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Ah, so it ain’t the gun, it’s me that’s getting you all worked up?”

“Whoa, I didn’t mean it like that—”

Ace shook his head with amused disapproval. “You should have just let me think it was the gun.” He looked back at the bottles, then back at her. “You don’t shoot like someone who’s never shot before.”

“Maybe I’m talented.”

“Maybe you’re full of shit.”

Olivia turned. “What?”

Ace looked her in the eyes hard. “Olivia.” He paused for a second, studying her expression. “Be real with me. Are you fucking around on Hero?”

“What!?”

“Do you have some other fucking boyfriend up in Westcliff?”

“No!”

“Because if you do, we will find out about it, you feel me?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you. You show up out of nowhere, you’ve got my brother wrapped around your finger, and it’s fucking suspicious, square business.”

“Square business? What the hell does that even mean?”

“It means square business, chag’ya, this ain’t circle business—what do you think the Blades are, your goddamn merry-go-round? You can’t ride us all.”

“Why do you still call me chag’ya?”

“Because I called you chag’ya first.”

“Oh, I see what this is all about,” smirked Olivia. “Someone a little jealous?”

Ace looked down at the gun. “I ain’t gonna say this but one time, Olivia. You in good with us now, but if you fucking with us, that shit will come back on you tenfold.” He looked in her eyes as he emptied the clip.

Seneka wasn’t a big fan of returning to 8th Block. Too many bad memories. She let the cops at the front gate conduct their half-assed frisking with a certain amount of doubtful complacency, standing aside as they did a brief search of the car. These guys were not good at their jobs. There were enough guns and drugs in that building to fuel a full-fledged black market operation, and in fact, that’s just what was going down.

Driving to 8th always felt a bit like falling asleep. It took forever, like she would never get there, but then all of the sudden, there she was. The parking area where she was standing was technically once a courtyard, but that word felt far too sweet to describe what it had become. She looked at the walls that encased the space, lined with dull bricks and dreary windows. The torn edges of detached, forgotten drapes looked like dried tears.

When Seneka entered the building, she avoided eye contact with the tattered men in rags sitting on their milk cartons and boxes. Trash crowded the corners through the hallway, and the scent of excrement and urine dominated the stairwell. This part of the building had really gone to shit.

Seneka got to Pansy’s floor, and the toilet odor was suddenly lifted and replaced with jasmine and incense. The tattered walls were covered with tapestries and wall scrolls, brightening the hall, the colors flickering by lanterns and candlelight. The power was out, and there were no windows here but the distant fraction of one at the far end.

Pansy’s door had opened just in time. She stood there, her pouting lips painted and sweet, like two cherries on her face. Her small smile was just present enough to brighten the corners of her eyes. She rushed to her friend, and gave her a big, full, hug.

“Oh, ahn’ni,” said Pansy. Her perfume scent danced around Seneka’s nostrils. “What are you gonna do?”

Pansy invited Seneka to have a seat in the worn brown arm chair of her tiny, broken apartment. The gas was still working, so Pansy cooked a bowl of noodles and broth on her tiny, rusting stove as Kang’ju sat happily in the corner, playing with her toys in innocent, self-imposed seclusion. Seneka stared at a patch of missing carpet as she sipped her soup from its plastic bowl.

 “Did you ever think about abortion?” Seneka asked, lowering her bowl.

“Shh!” said Pansy, rinsing her dishes. She tilted her head toward her daughter. “She can hear you!”

“She don’t know what an abortion is,” said Seneka.

“Abortions kill babies,” said Kang’ju. She hit a button on her computer toy. “Five bananas!”

“If you wanted an abortion, you wouldn’t be here,” said Pansy, taking a seat in a stolen lawn chair. “I mean, you know I won’t tell you abort.”

“Three bananas!”

“So does that make you, like, pro-life or something?” asked Seneka.

“Pro-life, pro-choice, pro-death, whatever, I don’t know any of what that means,” said Pansy. “All this politics, random words, no idea what any of it means. Like, what is this? ‘Green?’ I see it everywhere. Today? I saw a sticker that said, ‘green and vegetarian,’ so I said, what?” She laughed a little. “They say they love plants, then they eat them. What is that?  I love Kang’ju. Do I eat Kang’ju? No. I don’t think so.”

Seneka laughed. “Okay. But didn’t you worry about the life your kid was going to be living down here?”

“Of course, but Hero takes care of us. As long as Hero is okay, we will be okay.” She bounced her head with pride.

Seneka nodded back. “Alright, but what if Hero wasn’t okay? Shit happens down here.”

“Oh, don’t get me started.” Pansy shuddered. “I don’t like thinking about that. He’s the only one who can get to the money. If Hero was gone, what would we do? Nothing. Scary thought.”

Seneka paused with a furrowed brow. “He’s gotta give the safe combination to somebody else. Just in case.”

Pansy laughed. “Who is he going to give it to? You? Me? No way, if he was going to give it us, he would have done it by now.”

“Well maybe we could explain why to him.”

“He knows why. Still won’t do it.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re poor, that’s why. As much as we are close and good friends, if we are desperate enough, we could steal.”

Seneka sipped her soup, thought and thought some more, and with a burst of realization, her eyes went wide. “Olivia.”

“Olivia?”

“Olivia is rich!” cried Seneka. “Olivia has no reason to steal from Hero, and he trusts her! She’s the one—he could give her the combination!”

Pansy chuckled again. “Yeah, you tell Hero to give his combination to new girl. I dare you.”

Tags: Ace, Hero, Kang'ju, Mixer, Olivia, Olivia's Point of View, Pansy, Seneka, Seneka's Point of View, Stone, Wildcard

This entry was posted on Friday, June 18th, 2010 at 4:16 pm and is filed under The Story. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.