Mercy (39 page)

keeps it; he keeps saying what he’ll do to me with it; I cook; he

drinks; he eats; he keeps talking; he brags; he talks about the

gang, keeps threatening me, what he’ll do to me, what they’ll

do to me, aspects o f lovemaking the gang would also enjoy

and maybe he’ll just let them in now or there’s time after,

they’re waiting, right outside, maybe he’ll call them in but

they can come back tom orrow night too, there’s time, no need

to w orry, nice boys in the gang, a little rough but I’ll enjoy

them, w o n ’t I? Then he’s ready; he’s excited himself; he’s even

fingered him self and rubbed himself. Like the peace boys he

talks with his legs spread wide open, his fingers lightly

caressing his cock, the denim pulled tight, exerting its own

pressure. He goes to the bed and starts to undress and he runs

one hand through the hair on his chest and he holds the knife in

the other hand, he fingers the knife, he rubs his thumb over it

and he caresses it and he keeps talking, seductive talk about

how good he is and how good the knife is and I’m going to like

them both and he’s got a cross on a chain around his neck and it

glistens in his hair, it’s silver and his skin is tawny and his hair

on his chest is black and curly and thick and it shines and I’m

staring at it thinking it shouldn’t be there, the shiny cross, I am

having these highly moral thoughts against the blasphemy o f

the cross on his chest, I think it is w rong and concentrate on

the im m orality o f wearing it now, doing this, w hy does he

wear it, what does it mean, his shirt is o ff and his pants are

coming o ff and he is rapturous with the knife in his hand and I

look at the cross and I look at the knife and I think they are both

for me, he will hold the knife, maybe I can touch the cross, I

will try to touch it all through and maybe it will be something

or mean something or I w o n ’t feel so frightened, so alone in

this life now, and I think I will just touch it, and there’s him,

there’s the cross, there’s the knife, and I’m under them and I

don’t know, I will never remember, the hours are gone, blank,

a tunnel o f nothing, and I’m naked, the bell rings, it’s light

outside so it’s been five hours, six, there’s a knock on the door,

insistent knocking, he says don’t answer it, he says don’t

move, he holds the knife against me, just under m y skin, the

tip just under it, and I try to fight for m y life, I say it’s a friend

who expects me to be here and will not go away and I will have

to answer the door and I w on’t say anything and I w on’t tell or

say anything bad, I will just go to the door to tell m y friend to

go away, to convince him everything’s fine, and someone’s

knocking and he has a deep voice and I don’t know what I will

do when I reach the door or who it is on the outside or what

will happen; but I’m hurt; dizzy; reeling; can’t feel anything

but some obscure pain somewhere next to me or across the

room and I don’t know what he’s done, I don’t look at any part

o f me, I cover m yself a little with a sheet, I pull it over me and I

don’t look down, I have trouble keeping m y head steady on

m y shoulders, I don’t know if I can walk from the bed to the

door, and I think I can open the door maybe and just keep

walking but I am barely covered at all and maybe the gang’s

outside and you can’t walk naked in a sheet, they’ll just hurt

you more; anyone will. I can’t remember and I can barely

carry m y head up and I have this one chance; because I can’t

have him do more; you see? I got up, I put something around

me, over me, a sheet or something, just held it together where

I could, and I took some steps and I kept whispering to the

man with the knife in m y bed that I would just get rid o f the

man at the door because he wouldn’t go away if I didn’t come

to the door and really I would just make him go aw ay and I

kept walking to the door to open it, not knowing if I would fall

or if the man in the bed would stick the knife in me before I got

there, or who was on the other side o f the door and what he

would do; would he run or laugh or walk away; or was it a

member o f the gang, wanting some. It was cool and clear and

light outside and it was a man I didn’t know except a little, a

big man, so tall, so big, such a big man, and I whispered to him

to help me, please help me, and I talked out loud that I couldn’t

come out now for breakfast like we had planned and I

whispered to say that I was hurt and that the man inside was a

leader o f a gang and I indicated the big knife on the w indow

ledge, out o f m y reach, a huge dagger, almost a sword, that I

had got the man to leave outside and I whispered that he was in

m y bed now with a knife and out loud I tried to say normal

things very loud but I was dizzy and I wasn’t sure I could keep

standing and the big man caught on quick and said normal

things loud, questions so I could answer them and didn’t have

to think o f new things because I’m shaking and I say the m an’s

in m y bed with a knife and please help me he was with a gang

and I don’t know where they are and maybe they’re around

and they’ll show up and it’s dangerous but please help me and

the big man strides in, he doesn’t take the big knife, I almost

die from fear but he just does it, I used m y chance and there’s

none left, he has long legs and they cover the distance to the

bed in a second and the man in m y bed is fumbling with the

knife and the big man, so big, with long legs, says I’m his; his

girl; his; this is an insult to him; an outrage to him; and the man

in the bed with the knife says nothing, he grovels, he sweats,

he asks forgiveness, he didn’t mean no harm, you know how it

is man; and hey they agree it’s just a misunderstanding and

they talk and the man in m y bed with the knife is sweating and

the man who saved me is known to be dangerous, he is

known, a known very serious man, a quiet man, a major man,

and he says he’s m y man and I’m his woman and he don’t want

me having no trouble with sniveling assholes and any insult he

throws makes the man in m y bed with the knife sweat more

and grovel more and the big man, the man with the long legs,

he speaks very soft, and he says that now the man in the bed

with the knife w ill leave and the man in the bed with the knife

fumbles to put his pants on and fumbles to put his shirt on and

fumbles to get his shoes on and the big man, the man with the

long legs, says quietly, politely, that nobody had ever better

mess with me anymore and the man who was in m y bed with

the knife says yeah and sure and please and thank you and I am

some kind o f prom queen, bedecked, bejeweled, crowned