My Book of Life By Angel (7 page)

I
watched Melli play solitaire a long time

and she always lost

and she always started again.

When Call came back

he found me in the bathroom,

staring into the toilet

wondering if my appendix was floating in there.

He said, you ­can't work that way,

and I thought, yes that is true,

but I said, it's better for business

don't you see?

the clients like it better

when you're not numb—

they like it better when you can feel everything.

He smiled, said, that's my girl.

Get out there and do good business.

Don't mess things up for me now, okay Angel?

Not now, okay?

Just think about me for once.

And remember, you're working for two.

I ­can't keep feeding her for nothing.

S
o Melli and I

went out again where the girls are hungry

while they hunt,

prowling, silent, looking for Mr. Steak Dinner,

Mr. Baked Potato and Butter,

where the girls say, all nice as can be,

I'll have mine rare

just a little blood in the middle—

they lick the bones, suck out the marrow.

They ­can't waste any of it.

It's always cold at night by the sea.

My intended wing depressed . . .

A
t the gate of ten thousand happinesses

Widow was already there

smoking and spitting

all dressed in black

hard as pavement,

and she said,

oh lord, get me some diapers,

this place is turning into some kinda day care—

said, I thought it was a bad high,

but you two keep turning up,

said, one of these days

I'm gonna collect that toe.

W
idow said, there's the Preacher,

he's ­here for me.

But he pulled up and pointed at me.

Widow said, he's a midtrack guy,

he means me,

and she walked to his car.

But he pointed at me again.

So I went, said, watch Melli for me.

Widow scowled at him as we drove away,

at me, too,

and I was scared with no candy

and so far no angel around a corner

and me knowing now about Mr. P

and Serena being dead.

Maybe Preacher was Mr. P,

and what if this car was crowded with ghosts—

crammed in the back,

one in the rear window,

one pushing the gas pedal,

nodding their loose heads,

laughing through slashed-­open throats,

holding their gashed bellies—

I ­couldn't help it,

while he was doing his business

I whispered,

angel, angel,

and he said, shut up.

So I shut up while he dirtied me down,

and I kept thinking, got to get enough for two,

enough to cover for Melli.

Without candy I saw

when afterwards his face was disgusted,

when his face said, why do I do this? I ­can't stand myself

and I ­can't stand you
.
.
. that's what I saw on his face

without candy.

When he brought me back he said, you're so skinny,

I shouldn't have to pay the full amount.

So he only gave me half.

I was so happy to have no knives poking in me

I didn't even say thief.

M
elli was still okay.

Drive-­by eyes ­couldn't get enough of us.

They stared like bullets, broke their necks to see us.

Some spat at us as they drove by.

Everybody laughed.

We are so funny.

I said, Melli, don't be sad. Be sad for them.

They break their soul ­bones to touch us.

I got picked up again and again

and Melli kept being okay when I got back.

Widow said, you're going to have to pay me for babysitting

and it better be good.

N
ext a man who told me he was eighty

and I said, you must be so proud.

Then a man who was a child psychologist,

and I said, you must enjoy your research.

Then a man who brought his baby girl asleep in the back seat

and I ­wouldn't have done it except still not enough for two.

After that I threw up on my side of the line

just water and bubbles.

Widow said, even when you're sick

that baby face of yours brings in the cash,

but not enough for two.

She said, free babysitting, then,

but still not enough for two.

She said, what are you going to do?

You thinking angels, right now, babyface?

Is it helping, huh?

And just then John the john pulled up.

Widow shook her head.

I said, Melli, this might take a while,

but don't you worry, he pays good.

J
ohn opened paradise lost to book nine

and gave me the wipes

before I could touch it.

I read the best I could.

But he got mad and said,

that sentence has an elliptical clause,

so read it like that. He talked about

subordinate conjunctions

and the subjunctive mood.

What fear I then? rather, what know to fear

Under this ignorance of good and evil,

Of God or death, of law or penalty?

Here grows the cure of all, this fruit divine,

Fair to the eye, inviting to the taste,

Of virtue to make wise: What hinders then

To reach, and feed at once both body and mind?

So saying, her rash hand in evil hour

Forth reaching to the fruit, she plucked, she ate.

Earth felt the wound; and Nature from her seat

Sighing through all her works gave signs of woe,

That all was lost.

I read a long time while he breathed hard—

I wanted to keep reading,

I felt like I was getting it.

I said, how does it end?

the very last book, how does it end?

and John said, none of your business,

that is enough for to­night,

and gave me a big tip.

Almost, but still not enough for two.

W
idow was on a date,

but Melli was safe, sunk into the shadows,

and she was falling asleep there on the street

for anyone to see, for anyone to take,

and I ­couldn't leave her again.

So I took her past the Jimi Hendrix shrine

and I took her past stained-­glass Milton in the library

and I ­couldn't believe I was taking her back

without enough for two,

but I was.

M
elli and I walked into Slingin' Ink

and Tattoo started talking about his hero Tom Leppard,

who lives on the Isle of Skye in Scotland

and has leopard skin inked on every place on his body

except between his toes and inside his ears.

He said, what do you think of that, Angel?

You can paint your body

to be what­ever you want.

He said, all I want is a girl of my own

who will let me draw on her, who will be my blank canvas,

but a girl like that is hard to find.

He said, Call is lucky,

he gets to decide who you are.

T
attoo said,

you think yours is the oldest profession?

No way, mine's older.

I heard of a hunter from five thousand years ago

they found freeze-­dried in a glacier

and he had tattoos—

you beat that, Angel.

And some king of En­gland back in the middle ages

died in a big battle,

and how did they find his body on the battlefield?

His tats, that's how.

­We're in ancient business, Angel.

He said, Angel—­when?

I said, you ­can't afford me.

He said, name a price.

I said how much I needed,

so it would be enough for two.

H
e said, don't tell Call it was me.

He's a cadaver.

He ­doesn't talk at all

when I'm slinging ink.

He's not alive on his skin,

he wants evil scraped into him—

I'm telling you, Angel, they're the worst kind,

I don't want to mess with him.

I
said, I won't tell,

and I pulled down my shirt collar

to show him my shoulder
.
.
.

I could see that was driving him crazy,

him imagining my canvas.

I lay down on his table

and he carved me up,

whistling, singing his breath into my skin
.
.
.

while Melli watched the stairs and me and the stairs,

while Tattoo talked and cut me up,

I said, Melli, it ­doesn't hurt,

don't worry
.
.
. it ­doesn't.

So Tattoo said, fine,

I'll kick it into third,

pound some skin—

W
hen he was done his face was disappointed

and I looked and he'd put a wing on my shoulder,

so real, so feathers,

pretty and weepy and bleeding,

but he was not proud—

He said, that's not what I wanted, not what I meant.

How did you do that? How did you make my hand go

that way? I didn't mean a wing! My mind was bent.

What­ever I want, that was the plan—­I'd go slow,

I'd paint you the proof that I have a universe

in my brain, but you put a curse

on my art, and it's your fault
.
.
.

He threw me the money

and I went upstairs, slow, with Melli in tow

and enough for two.

W
hen I gave the money to Call

he was in a good mood

because of getting twice as much

and still having Melli in the bank
.
.
.

but then he saw blood on my shirt

and he looked

and he punched my wing

until it ­wasn't a wing anymore

just a bruise with feathers.

He said, Tattoo,

and I said, no

and he said, ya it was

and I said, Call, it was all my fault,

and he said, don't think you won't pay.

H
e went downstairs to spill Tattoo's ink,

and I heard something fall, and,

not my gun!

not my needles! and Call laughing—

I heard pounding, Call having fun

wrecking everything

and Tattoo crying

and Call saying, if you go to the cops about this
.
.
.

Melli and I curled up in bed together

and this time Melli stroked my hair

and I said, if Call kills us

maybe we will be angels

light enough to fly in the clouds and sleep on them.

We will have white hair

and wear bride dresses every day

and walk through walls if we want

and watch movies for free.

T
hen Call came upstairs

and I waited for him to be mad at me still.

But he just stood looking at me,

said, I'm going to forgive you in good faith.

I'm not a bad guy, Angel,

you know that—

I'm just trying to do good business,

good business is good for everybody,

are you hearing me, Angel?

But, baby, I can only be so patient,

you understand?

You have to do what I say—

if you give me problems

how will my backers believe I can expand the business?

You think I'm scary, you should see them.

C
all kissed me, said, our petition, our petition,

soon things will be different.

He kissed me, said,

now whenever you go through Slingin' Ink

you'll remember to be good,

you'll remember you and Melli belong to me.

I went into the kitchen

and cut up the tomatoes.

Tomatoes are really fruits.

Nobody knows what kind of fruit

was on the tree of knowledge in book nine—

what if it was tomatoes?

People always blame apples,

but how do they know it was apples?

Maybe once tomatoes grew on trees

and after Eve they got demoted.

I cut up a tomato

and there—­the shape of an angel

between the seeds like stars
.
.
.

I cut up another and another—

there was an angel shape in every one

and I sprinkled them with sugar.

Then I ate them

and I kissed Call

in my same mouth

where I had eaten tomatoes and angels with sugar

but he didn't die.

But past who can recall, or done undo?

W
hen I woke up

I thought, today is Sunday.

Without candy,

you know stuff like that.

Melli was already awake, playing solitaire,

never cheating, always losing.

Call was watching her, just watching,

said to me,

she never cheats.

He put the rhino on the kitchen table,

said, I've got business.

You go shopping,

buy yourself some new shoes,

two of them.

This is your chance to prove yourself, right Angel?

You be good and I don't lock you in anymore.

He went out,

and just before he did

he squeezed Jeremy's rhino around its neck.

I said, Melli, Call wants us to be good,

so let's be good.

It's Sunday.

Let's go to church.