The First

The city lay in front of him. He could make out the tops of the buildings way down the avenue. The wind was cold against his jacket as he stepped across the street.

“Go, Loverboy!” he heard from the other side of the street.

They had been drinking since the sun went down. Something to keep them warm on a frozen night and this made the lights stand out. This is what he thought would give him the courage to knock on her door.

“Don’t forget to wrap it up.”

He watched the paper cup skip and twirl along the street. It was lit up in the orange light, scrambling for cover, tossed maliciously by the wind.

He heard the sirens coming closer and he wished he could follow them like he did when he was a kid. He would wait on his step for the fire engine sounds. His bike facing the way the sounds would come. The fire house was down two blocks. He could time the first sound with his awareness and get to the end of the block by the time they were a half block away. He would move his legs as quick as the wheels would turn. The engines never went far. They would go somewhere within the sixteen blocks that he could ride to and get to the fire just minutes after the firemen. He would watch it then. His favorite was the fires in the abandon buildings. Those the firemen would not fight. He would get as close as possible to the fires before they would yell. He felt the spray of the water soaring into the air on windy days.

“Don’t wimp out and follow that fire now.” He heard them shout.

They would always be there. His friends were drinking in the alley off the avenue. They would be there when he returned and they would be there tomorrow. He had known them since he was a kid and they were as part of the city as the top of those buildings, the orange street lamps, and the sirens. He wanted to follow that fire. But there was no bike and no reason to be there. There had been no reason to follow fires for a long time.

He turned at the corner and headed up the dark street feeling the buzz propel him. Even if they did yell something now, it would be lost to the wind or the cars passing. He felt the freedom of the blackened street as he navigated passed the trash bags strewn to the curbs. The whole street smelled of garbage. He had put cologne on. He had hoped she would text him.

The wind was cold and the hood allowed it to whip around his neck. The fire in the can that the guys drank around kept him warm, but he felt the absence of the warmth in the crisp darkness of the street. It would take him ten minutes to walk to her house. He wondered how long it would take him to knock on her door. She didn’t give instructions. She just said come over. He had to make it cool so he finished his beer and had another before he started his exit.

“Yo, I got her text.”

“You still dogging her. You have to let that go. Her dad will fucking kill you.”

“You know he is a cop or fireman and shit. They all got guns.”

“And they cover that shit up.”

 “You’re nagging being with her. She ain’t gonna let no Kenso  close to her and even if you get past her dad, her brother will kick your ass.”

He stayed quiet as they debated his chances. He didn’t want to argue but he knew what it took to break the night up by leaving. It had to be debated. The council would decide if it was a good enough reason to split. He would leave anyway, but this would determine how much hassle they would give him tomorrow. They were already low on beer so he knew their verdict.  

“Why you think she is texting him if she didn’t want a piece? You’re an idiot. She wants him, just like she wanted me last week.”

“Fuck off. That ain’t true that was his mom.”

“No serious. You ain’t leaving us for some trick who ain’t ever gonna be seen with you in public.”

“I just said she texted me. And my mom wouldn’t fuck you Carlos. She is into men.”

“Men with money.”

The laughed but it became quiet after that. They knew his mom. They passed her on the way to the alley. He knew she was passed. He didn’t let it bother him. The city was shot. And everything in it was shit. Everything but the beer, and the banter of guys he had seen every day for the past five years, and the warmth of the fire in the trashcan and the text from a girl who made him forget everything else when he looked at her.

“You go get her. That is what I say.”

“Stay away from her dad, serious, yo. He is bad news. He fucking broke the car windows of his own car when his wife locked him out.”

“You guys got my back.”

“No fucking way. You go up into that neighborhood and you deserve what you get.”

“Thanks.”

“How did you meet her anyway?”

He had gone to the Catholic school as part of an agreement between his mother and the priest. He wasn’t sure if it was true, but that was the rumor. He didn’t stop rumors. He learned he couldn’t punch every kid on the way home. He just stayed quiet and the rumors didn’t matter after a while. The school was clean and quiet and he could think there. The clothes were filled with starch that his mother would iron. He looked nice with the sweater. He had no friends at the school when he started. But he had friends now. And that is because he was quiet and punched when they weren’t looking and didn’t say shit when they said they were coming to get him, or about his mom, because they would never come down across the avenue to try anything. He liked the school and he didn’t care if how his mom gave paid his way.

She had sat in front of him. She was two seats away because her last name started with a K and his with an L. But the kid in front of him left and then he could smell her hair everyday during math. That was their first class. He could smell her shampoo from the long brown curls that swept the top of her chair. The desks would be against each other and sometimes he would put his head down and pretend he was sleeping. He was trying to capture the smell and keep it with him. He had an idea that it would be valuable. She always turned her head to pass back the papers. She smiled sometimes and her mouth would part just to allow a peak of her front two teeth to escape between her lips. Her lips were purple and her cheeks were pink. Her eyes were green and sad.

I like your eyes. That is what he wrote on the piece of paper. She put her number on it. They were in seventh grade and thirteen and the world did not stop spinning until he was home.

He knocked timidly, hoping she would answer. It was eight and the house was filled with the blue screen of the television and a green light from the kitchen. The street was quiet and the cars were lined against the curb like a funeral procession. The trash bags stood in observance. Her house was under the street light. He saw a shadow move in the house heading to the door and decided to run. The door opened quietly and he made out her shape.

“It took you long enough.”

“Well, it is not so easy to leave a half case of beer and a warm fire.”

He felt bad for saying it as soon as it was let go. She smiled like she was passing a paper back.

“You want to go for walk.”

“I want to get out of here.”

She took his hand as she came to the last of the steps. She took it without asking or grasping for it as if it was hers and she knew where it was. She held it up to her face. They walked away from the avenue towards the park.

“Your hands are freezing.”

“I forgot my gloves. We have this thing that only one of us brings gloves out when we drink. I had to return mine when I left.”

He felt conscious of the beer on his breath. He could smell her: the scent of baby powder and flowers. She moved into him and put his barren hand into both of her gloves.

“I didn’t think you would come. Everybody is doing something by now, and I just got home from a family party and it was silly to call. So I called you. Did you mind?”

He shook his head as if he didn’t understand what she meant.

“Not that I wouldn’t call you because I wanted to. Really, you do believe me, right?”

He put his arm around her and it was the first time he had ever been this close to a girl. He could not tell if it was her warmth or the softness that he wanted. The air seemed colder and he could smell the snow above her perfume and above the trash.

“I liked that you gave me some place to go.”

“Do you stay with those guys all the time?”

“Yea, I guess I do. There not that bad. They just drink and nobody ever goes home.”

“Do they go to school?”

“Sure. But it is not like ours. They start later and seem always to get out earlier. They get pissed when I have to do my homework. But they go.”

“Why did you come tonight?”

There was no one rich, only less poor. He had seen his mom come home. She talked to him sometimes and placed her hand against his forehead. She knew he wasn’t sleeping. She would say to him how much she wanted to give him more than this. She cried and quaked and he kept his eyes closed because he knew that is what she needed. She told him how sad everything was and the people you could not trust and the things you should not do to girls no matter what your mind tells you to do. She talked about him like he would come back and save us. She talked about how much I looked like him now that I was almost a man. And I stayed still as I waited for the train to pass in the distance and she would leave and never be so high in the morning.

“I think you’re really pretty.”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

“We are not even off your block yet.”

“So what, go ahead and kiss me.”

“Did you ever kiss someone before?”

“No. Did you?”

He didn’t feel like lying.

They had walked to the park at the far end of the neighborhood. They talked about school and she kept giving him Sprees. He felt his breath was better. He could feel her body underneath her coat. She pulled his hand to cross the streets. It was hard to walk with someone with smaller legs. He wanted to go faster. They went to the bleachers beside the baseball field. The lights were off in the distance and the clouds were low and white abovethe field. She talked of her family. She talked of her friends she hated and loved. He listened and wished she would not stop holding his hand.

“Where is everyone at?”

“They are all inside. It is supposed to snow tonight?”

“Really.  I would like to see it when it falls for the first time.”

“You think you could kiss me now.”

“If you want.”

“I do. But do you think you could keep it a secret.”

He had more secrets than he could keep, but he promised. She moved closer to him with her lips against his cheek. He could feel her breath, then her lips, then her tongue and he tasted the sugar from the Sprees. He imitated her and he was warm. He could not be sure when the snow started to fall but it was sometime during that kiss. They stayed together; their tongues rolling back and forth and he could feel the flakes, heavy and big, hit his face. For the second time, he tried to capture something to remember.

Then the kiss ended. They walked home passed the trash bags and cars. He could smell her on his coat. He did not kiss her on her steps. He let her hand go; he had come and done what she had wanted. He did not know if she would smile at him on Monday morning when she passed out the papers. He walked towards the avenue and he saw the lights. He crossed the street seeing the tops of the city buildings as the snow fell harder. He could hear their talk now.

“Look who’s back, Loverboy! How about this snow!”

Comments

[aprilmae]

I have been to those bleachers, and my suitor came from those alleys, but it was definitely Juicy Fruit and not Sprees. The details in your story brought back many memories - thanks!

[Nick Carraway]

Enjoyed it. I liked the progression of fire to snow. It complemented the boy's transition from the world of his friend's to his first alone with a girl.