Among the dirty dishes, which include plates which have served PB&J, spaghetti, store-bought chocolate cake, and seared with cheese laid on top of one-dollar hot dogs..among all this, lying on his back, is Faulkner—still alive—flailing his arms and not even crying, just making a tiny little baby sound like egk, egk and I knelt in front of him reaching into the dishwasher and picking him up with two hands and I felt his reptilian skin super thin to the touch, his blue veins pumping short and tight like bzt, bzt pumping blood from the heart, the mathematics of the arrangement of veins having something to do with the number pi, his hair black and snapped to his head, wet, sticky with jelly, and there are poke marks on his back and the back of his head.
I held the babe out to his momma and Brooklyn came to me and took him from me. She held it to her chest and kissed it. Baby rejoined with momma—all is right in the jungle. Charisma ran to Brooklyn’s side, checked the baby’s pulse with quick fingers and pronounced to us that his vital sign was ok: heart beating, proper rate—the kid is alive!
“This one’s living!” Charisma says.
“Why is that a big deal?” I ask. “Why is this one alive? Why is baby in the refrigerator?”
“Dishwasher,” Charisma corrects.
“Dishwasher!” I say.
“Can you chill him out?” Brooklyn says.
“Matthew. Chill.”
“I can’t chill. I cannot. I can’t chill until I hear how that kid ended up in the dishwasher! I mean..Brooklyn..can you help me with this? How did Faulkner end up on the bottom shelf of the dishwasher? Isn’t he at least top-shelf safe? I’m—I don’t know if you know this about me but—I’m thinking of calling the cops on us for your baby ending up in the dishwasher!”
“Is he saying he’s thinking of calling the cops on us?” Brooklyn says.
“Yes, he’s serious,” Charisma says. “Matt. Let’s go upstairs and talk.”
“No. I’m not going upstairs. Does she know me well enough to know how serious I am? Can you tell her?”
“He’s serious, alright? He’s goddamn motherfucking serious. Ok, Matt? Ok? Brooklyn knows you’re serious. Matt is a person of conscience. He once held back the negatives to a shoot we did for a rave—the Heaven and Hell rave we had at 1470? You went to that, remember? Brooklyn?”
“Yes, of course. I remember. What does that have to do with negatives—for photos? What do negatives have to do with this moment right now?”
“I’m sorry, Brooklyn. Matthew! Do, you, want to come upstairs, with me, right now. Right now!”
I realize I’m being yelled at. “If you could just keep this quiet,” I say.
Charisma goes to the stairs. I follow slowly. Brooklyn holds Faulkner‘s breath up to her ear and listens. She holds the baby up in the air for me to see, and Brooklyn’s eyes never leave my own—they follow me upstairs until we can no longer see each other and I damn myself so hard that even in this circumstance I am still searching for the flirtation in her eyes—and for the first time this weekend I can see that her flirtation is genuine.
Charisma closes the door behind me. We are in her and Wendy’s bedroom.
“Did I see you looking at her?”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“I know! That’s one thing you dudes think you can get away with. Looks. Little touches. Didn’t you know—don’t you even remember?—that you came here this weekend to be with me? You and me!! Me motherfucker! Me!! I don’t believe this shit.”
She sits down on the bed and wipes tears from her eyes.
I kneel behind her with one leg on each side of her body. I kiss her neck.
“I think your lust got derailed to Brooklyn from me. Did you fuck her?”
“No!”
“Did you want to? Don’t answer that. I’ve seen that you do.”
“I can’t help who I want to fuck,” I say.
“I know. Believe me, I know. You can’t help who you want to fuck, only who you do fuck. That is shit,” Charisma says. “Pure negligent shit. Monkey shit. That is the kind of shit I’ve been putting up with since high school. High school bullshit. High school boys—every one of them trying to fuck you while making love ❤️ to your sister. Motherfuckers fucking me from behind pretending I’m some guy they want to get with. You know? It’s just fucking bullshit.”
“I’m not fucking you thinking of some guy,” I tell her.
I reach between her legs, run my fingers over it.
She pushes my hands away.
“Didn’t you used to love my pussy? When we first got together you seemed to love it. You would wake me up in the middle of the night to fuck me. At your house on Second Street. Your apartment there. Didn’t you want me and want me again?”
“You hadn’t had a kid by then.”
“My one kid..ruined me? That one little London baby named Schuyler. That kid ruined my vagina to you forever? I don’t even think you cared about me back then.”
“Charisma. I paid for your plane ticket to get home from there. Never asked you to pay me back—did I?”
“I love that you—no, you never asked me to pay you back—I love that you honestly don’t know if you asked me to pay you back. It shows how wealthy you are and you don’t even know it.”
“I’m not wealthy.”
“But for East Dayton..you’re wealthy.”
“Maybe! I want you to know that I did care about you, from the beginning. You were always a friend.”
“Was I?” she cries.
I hug her with arms and legs. “I love you—that’s the friend part. I wanted to fuck you—that’s the fuck buddy part. But I don’t want to fuck you now. I’m so sorry. I’m older, my appetite is less—”
“You don’t want me because I’m fat,” she says.
“I—”
“It’s ok I won’t make you say it. It’s ok. You’re so polite. Do you want to fuck anyway—don’t answer that. I can give you a blow job while you look at porn on your laptop. Or a hand job while you look at my face. Would you like that? Is it so bad you can’t even get off with me! Oh my god,” she gasps. “One baby and I ruined my body to my own fuck buddy!”
Charisma shakes her head.
“Also..” I started. “Since you’re bigger now you..you’re carrying a smell. It’s just when you bend over and I think it’s coming from your..”
“Pits?” Charisma asks.
“No.”
“Ass?” she says.
“No.”
“From my pingo?”
“I think so. Pingo area. Like you’ve got so much fat in there it folds over and—”
“Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you. You know, you’re not doing me any favors here. I know my pingo area stinks. Ok? I know: it stinks. I know I stink. I know I’m bigger. But Rambuncto..he fucks me and he doesn’t seem to mind. How much bigger am I?”
“I don’t know Charisma.”
“I got fat in London. You know? I was telling you about that great flat me and Richards had. I didn’t have a job. Didn’t have a car. It was way out in the suburbs. So all day I’m at home. Eating. Little chocolates. We had a tray of Nutty Buddies you know they taste like chocolate and peanut butter and I sat there watching Britain’s Got Talent every fucking season it was horrible I didn’t know if I was getting fat because I was pregnant or if it was the Nutty Buddies of course I knew it was both but I didn’t know how much of each..you know..what were the contributing factors. Next thing me and Richards were seeing doctors and they’re telling me to lay off the sweets. Fuck. I couldn’t stop eating! I’d be in the grocery store and Richards looks the other way, I’m stuffing candies into the cart I didn’t even know what the names of half of these things meant you know here it’s cookies and cakes—over there it’s biscuits and crisps. We got home I was supposed to be cooking dinner I mean Richards gave me everything and he’d be in the next room and I’d look down at the cutting board, my hands took over the show I’d have chopped an entire onion, an entire bunch of carrots, bell peppers diced in chunks the size of baby nipples. You know what’s hard? You ever carried a baby your man impregnated you with then go through eight hours of labor then they let you hold that baby once—one time—and then her new family is there and they want to take her with them and they do take her away from you, walk right out of the hospital with your flesh and blood and DNA—”
“I know. You told me.”
“I’m sorry if I already told you. I’m sorry if you have to listen to my story more than once.”
“It’s ok. You can tell me as often as you like.”
“Thank you. I know I already told you. It comforts me to tell you again.”
I hugged Charisma. I didn’t care if we were just fuck buddies. I would listen to her talk anytime she wanted to. I loved her.
Charisma said: “Remember the time we were in your Oregon District apartment and you took your shirt off and I was like When was the last time you showered? And you were like a few days ago and I was like—”
“Oh. Are you trying to tell me we both stink?”
“No! Listen. Do you remember what I said?”
“What.”
“I said some guys can pull that off. That natural smell. Some guys can’t. But you were one of the ones who could.”