Color of Love (28 page)

Gail chuckled. “That’s because you know I’m right.”

Leah turned on her. “It’s interesting how quickly you forgot what Allen put you through for two years.”

Gail’s smile was superior. “But I gained the upper hand. And I got what I wanted. Jason can’t do anything for you, and you’re going to get hurt.”

But Leah didn’t need Gail to raise doubts in her head about Jason or the wisdom of their affair. She was having enough doubts of her own.

On the drive up to the Bronx, Leah listened while Jason complained about his case load and work hours. He seemed tense and a bit curt, but Leah just chalked it up to work-related anxiety. And her annoyance grew because she was suddenly unwilling to be a sounding board for his problems. Leah interrupted him:

“You’re doing a lot of extra stuff you don’t have to do. You’re taking on difficult cases that are hopeless.”

“No kid is hopeless,” Jason countered impatiently.

“What about Slack? I think he’s dangerous.”

“I can handle Slack.”

“Well, you can’t bring home every tough kid. Don’t you see that sometimes you can’t turn them around? What is it you’re trying to prove to yourself?”

Jason sighed. He thought instantly of the kid he’d shot and killed. Leah’s question echoed in his head, and he didn’t have an answer. When she suggested that perhaps he wasn’t getting enough rest, he impatiently brushed it aside and she said no more.

At the Bronx gym were boys from a nearby youth shelter sponsored by a Catholic church. To Leah, most of the boys, black and Latino, looked much older than their years, worn by the kind of lives they’d lived. Leah noticed at once, however, that the boys held Jason in a kind of cautious respect and admiration.

When Jason walked into the gym his whole demeanor changed, and so did theirs. He walked to the group and did a street handshake with several of them. They didn’t so much say hello as they sort of acknowledged each other’s presence and right to be there. Jason was accepted.

“All you homies are here to play tonight, right?” Jason asked comfortably. He pointed a finger at one youth who had a bandanna wrapped around his head. “No shit, hear me, Mex?” The boy shrugged indifferently. “I’m telling you straight up,” Jason said to all of them, laying the ground rules for the evening.

Leah observed their ritualistic behavior in fascination, the way they treated one another and the way they listened to Jason. He
was
very good with the boys, somehow able to reach them on a level that didn’t strip them of their pride, or not take them seriously.

Two boys started roughhousing, as if they were above Jason’s commands. Leah saw the potential for the pushing to escalate as neither wanted to back down. Jason continued to talk while casually approaching the two teens. He suddenly grabbed one boy by the wrist, bending it back and applying enough pressure to make the teen uncomfortable. Jason, still talking, led the boy to an isolated bench and pushed him down.

“Oh, shit,” the boy chuckled, embarrassed. But he stayed put and paid attention.

Watching, Leah felt contrite for the way she’d responded in the car. He was right not to give up. But she also remembered the brief exchange with Gail. She had been right, too.

And Slack was there.

Leah glanced at him briefly and then away with an even briefer smile. Despite the swirl of tension from seeing him, Leah was prepared to acknowledge him as part of a circle of youths that Jason was concerned with. But Slack’s cold stare discouraged any familiarity.

She could feel his dislike of her as a tangible, three-dimensional thing that might lash out at her at any time. Slack seemed so angry. She wondered what he did with all of that anger. Where was it directed? For a foolish instant Leah considered the possibility of reaching out to him. After all, Jason had. But why? To be his friend? She decided quickly that she didn’t want to be Slack’s friend. The truth was, he made her feel as that man had that night on the stairs.

The boys got a little testy when Jason introduced her around.

“Ah, man, what you gotta bring her for?” Slack called out.

“She’s a visitor. Say hello to the nice lady or I’ll break your arm,” Jason muttered.

“You know women is bad luck for our game, man. Even if she’s foxy,” someone else called out, followed by some loud chortling, whistles, and slapping of palms.

Leah felt challenged. She held her breath and faced them all squarely. “Jason said you were good players. I think he was trying to be nice,” she said casually, staring them down.

Jason watched her in surprised silence, but Leah merely turned away to walk to a bench.

“Fuck her,” Leah heard one of the boys mutter. It was followed by silence as she knew they waited for Jason’s response.

“In your dreams,” Jason shot back.

Again, some of the boys collapsed in laughter. But her challenge stood and some of them took up the dare.

“Bet!” they chorused, bopping away to form team sets. “We’ll show this bitch how we do the
do.
Wait ’til we through, Jack.”

There was much shouting and joking as the teams were paired off and Jason got the games started. There were many other teams, other referees, and Leah suspected that some of them were off-duty cops as well. Slack played on the team from the Catholic shelter that housed him. When he played, he was aggressive and quick, but he bounced back and forth between an interest in the game and a need to show off. He kept yelling abusive remarks at the other players, and it was clear that not many of them were his friends.

Jason watched mostly in silence, only occasionally shouting an order or correcting a player, once ending a dispute over a call that nearly ended in a fistfight. The boys were tough and brash, not giving in too much and standing their ground stubbornly. Leah admitted to herself they played well, although it might have been just to show her up. She could also see that they loved this game. When their bare palms slapped the small ball against the back wall of the court, they were quick on their feet and clever with their opponents, and obviously impressed with themselves. They were in control of their hard, young bodies, aware of the muscles they’d formed, the evidence of their budding manhood: the walk, the talk, the attitude. And Jason had been right. This was one of the few places where it was possible to be who they were and still win.

Then Slack, angry at a point, took the small ball and, with a violent curse, threw it across the room. The ball hit Jason on the side of the head, knocking him clear off his feet. Almost immediately he struggled to get up. Leah jumped to her feet and began running across the wooden floor to his aid. She’d felt the contact in the pit of her stomach, as if she’d been hit herself.

Jason staggered dizzily for a moment, and Leah grabbed his arm. The games stopped as the boys waited to see how Jason was. He made an effort to get his bearings.

“Jason …” Leah said quietly. He shook his head and gently pushed her aside.

“Goddamn it, Slack. This isn’t baseball. What the hell you throw the ball for?” Jason groaned, but there was more surprise than anger in his hoarse voice.

“Sorry man. You just got in the way,” Slack apologized defensively.

“Just stick to the game. You got a problem with the score, we’ll work it out later.” Jason waved the others back to their games.

Leah slowly made her way back to the bench. She realized she probably shouldn’t have rushed forward the way she had. It only made her look foolish. And female. Nobody else had made a big deal of Jason’s getting hit, including Jason. But Leah was now surprised at the degree of her emotions as she’d watched him being hit and crumbling to the wooden floor. She knew he was probably more hurt than he’d let on, but it was clear he had no intention of stopping the games. There were two more matches, with some boys being switched so that everyone had a chance to play.

Finally the session was over. Leah watched the boys return to the bench, where she’d stationed herself. They gathered items of clothing that had been discarded and strewn around the floor as they played. She retrieved her own tote bag and congratulated them on a nice effort.

“Bullshit,” Slack said scornfully. “We was great.”

Leah laughed nervously. “You lose points for trying to kill the coach.”

Everyone laughed at Slack, singling him out. He didn’t like it.

“What does she know?” he said. “She can’t play this game.”

Leah spoke before thinking: “Anybody can play this game. I played when I was a kid.”

“Then the next time you come with Jason, you play me!” Slack said, and the other boys agreed wholeheartedly.

Jason promised to set it up even after Leah tried to give him what she hoped was a look of terror and regret. But Jason didn’t get her off the spot. She decided not to push the point, since it was clear from Jason’s pale countenance and tightly drawn mouth that he was in pain and just wanted to leave.

When Leah said good-bye to the boys, she made no special effort to include Slack. He made her uncomfortable, and she suspected that it was deliberate. And she didn’t know if she wanted to work so hard to understand him.

“Are you planning on learning how to play handball before I bring you up here again?” Jason asked her as they made their way to the exit and his parked car.

“I’m hoping you’ll think up something and save me from my big mouth,” Leah said dryly.

Jason looked at her as they walked down the street. “You know, you were good with them. They liked you.”

“How can you tell?”

“Let’s just say their social vocabulary goes into the toilet when they don’t care what you think of them.”

“They called me a bitch.”

“That’s the way they talk.”

“What do they call you?”

Jason chuckled. “You don’t want to know. Besides, it can’t be said in polite company.”

Leah hesitated, thinking carefully about how to approach the subject that had most concerned her. “Slack doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

“Don’t worry about it. He’s suspicious and doesn’t really trust anyone.” He arched a brow at her. “Including me. Slack’s got a lot of pride and that’s good. It might be enough to save him if it doesn’t kill him first. It’s a real catch twenty-two.”

“You really understand him, don’t you?” Leah observed.

Jason shrugged with a deep sigh. “I’ve known others like him. He wants respect. But he doesn’t know how to earn it or how to give it.”

Leah frowned as Jason unlocked his car and carelessly tossed things in the backseat. “Has it ever occurred to you that you might not reach him?”

“No,” Jason said unequivocally. “I can’t think that way. Not for him. Not for myself.”

As Jason opened the passenger door of the car, Leah asked if she should drive. Jason looked at her in surprise.

“I didn’t know you could drive.”

“You never asked.”

“Please …” he said eagerly. Jason climbed into the passenger seat, giving her quick instructions as to the peculiarities of his car. Then he sat with his eyes closed, rubbing his temple as Leah headed back to Brooklyn.

When they reached his apartment, Jason was much worse. Leah made the decision not to leave him for the night and called Gail to tell her where she was. Jason apologized for not being in shape to drive her home, and Leah wondered if that meant he hadn’t anticipated staying with her otherwise. She tried not to make an issue of it, but she was starting to feel peculiar inside. As she had earlier in the evening when he’d called, like an afterthought.

He stripped and fell into the bed after Leah gave him aspirin and water. He was out almost immediately.

Checking on him later, Leah saw a black and blue welt was appearing on his temple. His breathing was even, however, and he slept deeply. She got a towel and folded it with ice cubes and spent the next hour and a half pressing it against his head. He fidgeted once or twice but didn’t awaken.

A little after midnight, the phone rang and Leah ran to answer, afraid the noise would awaken Jason.

“Hello,” she breathed softly into the mouthpiece. There was a momentary silence, and then a strong, irritated female voice spoke up.

“Who’s this?”

“Who is this?” Leah came right back.

“Is Jason there?” the voice demanded.

“He can’t come to the phone. He’s asleep.”

“Well, tell him Peggy’s on the phone. He’ll take the call.”

Leah felt uneasy again. “Jason had a small accident this evening coaching one of his teams. It’s not serious, but he just needs to sleep.”

“And I suppose you’re nursing him back to health?” the voice asked.

“I’m just a friend who was there at the time,” Leah said tightly, resenting the need to explain. “Do you want to leave a message? I’ll see that he gets it.”

“Will you? Then tell him I called. Tell him don’t forget about our date tomorrow night. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Fine,” Leah said in a small voice. Her stomach somersaulted.

“Thank you,” the voice now cooed. “’Night, friend.”

Leah could recognize a proprietary tone when she heard one. More than that, the female caller had extended her feline claws instinctively at having another female answer the phone for Jason. She understood that, too. But she somehow felt as if she’d just been put in her place again.

She thought about having told this Peggy that she was a friend. It bothered Leah that she had no other word to use. She’d found herself suddenly hesitant to say significant other, girlfriend, main squeeze … whatever, because she and Jason had never defined what their relationship was. It had just happened and moved along on a momentum that hadn’t, as yet, taken on any particular direction. They were committed to each other, but Leah felt there were no parameters. And no forward progress.

Peggy was obviously a friend, too. But how good a friend, how intimate? Leah agonized over the possibilities. She thought of her sister’s comment about Jason pushing her buttons and felt confused and insecure. And the phone call had undermined her.

She got a glass of orange juice and sat in Jason’s chair by the window, alternately watching the lights on the bridge and Jason on the bed as he slept. She sat there well into the night, not being able to lie next to him and sleep herself. Not if tomorrow night she’d be replaced with someone else in his bed.