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CHARLES SWEENEY
Inviolable Sometime around midnight Georgie stepped outside the bodega and stood at the corner opening the cellophane wrapper on a pack of menthol cigarettes, looking out over all the unused buildings and the dive bars in between. He'd started coming down to this part of town looking for a connection to something and instead came away with a head full of cheap drugs and a little less of himself. The plate-glass windows of the corner building across the street that housed the club Universe had long ago been boarded over and painted. Someone had put iron gates over the boards for good measure. It was the kind of place that if you walked by during the day you wouldn't know there was anything inside. Georgie stood under the lighted yellow awning of the bodega waiting for some familiar faces. The foot traffic on the street was mostly a mix of Dominican kids from the neighborhood dealing drugs. The rest were the stragglers from nearby clubs and bars who were their customers. Georgie had once thought this the most exciting place he'd ever been, which didn't say much for his short life so far. The last time he'd been down here he snorted something with a guy in the bathroom of a nameless bar, then went outside to the guy's car and got his dick sucked. Afterwards Georgie could hardly admit this fact to himself, though he was untroubled by the fact that he'd had a sexual encounter with another man. He felt that as long as it was his knowledge only, he could deal with whatever it said about him. He'd stayed away from the club for a few nights, not wanting to run into the guy, but there was a slim chance that he'd even be recognized since the guy had been more stoned than Georgie that night. He remembered how in the car afterward he'd had to turn the key in the ignition to unlock the doors, since the guy had passed out against the steering wheel after sucking him off. The guy seemed to wake up a little when the engine kicked over, but Georgie just let himself out and walked to the subway. In the pale light of the sunrise he felt only hazy and numb. Tonight he would dance on the crowded floor, moving in a way that the music enabled him, watching the regular crew of Puerto Rican girls, inviolable in their black bras and jeans with wide black belts turning their bodies in a public seduction that was somehow private at the same time. That's how Georgie felt inside the club, inviolable, the music some kind of protection against whatever it was in the air outside that constantly seemed to be pressing down on him. A very thin girl with black bangs covering her forehead walked towards him. Georgie looked at her face and she stopped. "Hey Georgie." "Hey what's up." "It's fucking hot out tonight." Georgie realized then that all night he'd been seeing more cops around than usual. She told him that there was a demonstration in the park about something, that the cops were out in force in case of trouble. "Against what?" "Man the fucking cops are trying to close the park Georgie." Georgie couldn't fathom people getting it together for anything like an organized demonstration and couldn’t think what to say so he took out a cigarette and handed it to the girl. "Oh cool." He took out a lighter and she leaned in close to him, cupping her hands around the sparks glowing within their cupped hands. Georgie couldn't see if the lighter was lit. She took it out of his hand and looked at him. He looked away, then to the front of the club, looking for the doorman to come on duty, the one who knew his face. "Dude, shit is going to be hectic tonight," she said, lighting her cigarette. "How can they just close a park?" Georgie asked. "I mean, it's a public place right?" "Cops have been trying to close that park for years dude. Fucking people in this city, fuck." They both looked at the front door of Universe. The girl looked away, shook her head and let out a hiss with some smoke. "You going in?" Georgie asked. "Fucking Universe is lame." "Yeah." "I'm heading to Gloria'a apartment. Her boyfriend Gideon just came back from North Africa and they got some killer hash." "Cool." "Fuck yeah. She played me these records he got there? Fucking amazing shit man. We're gonna smoke up and go to the roof and watch and see what happens with the park." "Cool." She folded her arms and let out more smoke. Then she looked at Georgie and began buttoning up the jacket she was wearing, brushing some ashes off the Chinese lettering woven in red threads along the collar. "You going in?" She asked him. "I guess. Maybe for a little while." Georgie tried not to look at her. He could hear the music coming from the radio inside the bodega and the low thump of the sound system across the street. "See you later Georgie." "Take it easy." Georgie watched her walk off, feeling himself wanting to go with her, wanting to sit in Gloria's apartment with her and listen to the stories Gloria's boyfriend Gideon would tell about North Africa, wanting to smoke some of that hash, maybe sit with his legs crossed on the floor looking up at the walls lined with posters of paintings he didn't know the names of, listening to strange, beautiful music playing on the stereo, music he'd never heard before. But he didn't know Gloria. He couldn't even remember the name of the girl he'd just been talking to, or if he'd ever known it at all. Georgie watched her as she walked down the street. If she turns around I'll call to her, he thought. I'll wave my arm maybe, too far away to yell anything. She made the next corner and turned out of Georgie's sight. Two Dominican kids walked by him, one of them brushing up against him. Georgie stood straight up and stiffened himself, knowing they wouldn't turn around anyway. He looked across the street and noticed Chinese lettering underneath the fading paint above the gated windows of Universe, and felt himself step off the curb and walk toward the front door. Charles Sweeney was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York, where he is currently living and working on a short story collection. His story 'Raela' was selected for inclusion in the fiction anthology 'In Our Own Words: A Generation Defining Itself, Volume VI' to be published this fall by Evenstar Press. His work can also be found on www.Thieversjargon.com and www.3711atlantic.com. |
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