The Final Testament of the Holy Bible Part 8

Then I'm teaching her to laugh.

She know how to do that too.

No, she doesn't.

And what the f.u.c.k happened to my apartment?

Your life is going to change, Mariaangeles.

I don't want it to change.

Yes, you do.

No, I don't.

Yes, you do.

He walked over to me, holding Mercedes' hand. I wasn't sure what to do. He was just smiling at me. And my little girl was smiling at me, smiling real wide. I hadn't seen her smile like that in a long time. In a long long time. Broke my f.u.c.king heart. And nothing in the world more beautiful than a child's smile. And there was my little girl, smiling all wide at a mother that didn't deserve nothing like that. A mother that was feeling like she didn't even deserve to be living this life that she had been given. A life she know now can be something she want, so full of moments like the smile of a beautiful child. Ben was right, even though I didn't want him to be right. Life was going to change.

As they walked to me, Ben leaned over and whispered something in Mercedes' ear. She smiled and went running right up on me, and I bent over and took her in my arms and gave her a big hug, a big hug like I didn't ever give anybody, not even her. And as I was holding her, she said I love you, Mommy. And I said I love you, baby, and even though I didn't want to be doing it, I started crying. And then Ben came over and put his skinny-a.s.s arms around both of us. And he said I love you, Mariaangeles. And for the first time in my life, when a man said I love you, I believed it. I believed it with my whole heart. And he just stood there, holding me, while I held my daughter and I cried.

When we stopped hugging, Ben walked me to my bedroom and told me to get cleaned up and get ready for lunch. I took a shower and stayed in there a long time, thinking 'bout my night, thinking about what Mercedes made me feel. When I come out, I'm wearing my best sweat suit and the table is set all nice as it can be and there's spaghetti on plates and my pipe and three vials of rock I had are sitting next to my plate. Ben and Mercedes are sitting waiting for me. I look at the pipe and the vials and look at Ben. Why you putting that out like that?

Is there a reason you don't want it out?

I sat down and put everything in my pocket.

My daughter don't need to be seeing that.

Why?

You a f.u.c.king fool, man. Why you think?

You think she doesn't know.

She ain't old enough to know nothing.

If you say so.

I do.

You ashamed of it?

What do you think?

That you should stop.

You don't know s.h.i.t, white boy.

He smiled and didn't say nothing. We started eating. He was helping Mercedes using her fork. I just watched her, and watching him with her made me hate myself more, knowing what I had in my pocket. I could feel it there. Heavy and bulging out. I was always pretending Mercedes thought I was just a regular momma. That our life was a regular life. Or at least regular for where we was living, for where we was from. I was just another girl with a kid trying to do my best and struggling. And in a way it was that way. But I was also knowing it was wrong. Knowing I could do better. Even in the way that we was.

We finished our lunch and Ben told Mercedes it was time for her to go napping and he took her into Momma's room. I sat at the table and thought about what was in my pocket 'cause it's all I wanted even though it was hurting to think about it and I heard Ben singing some kind of lullaby to Mercedes. It made me remember when I used to sing to her, before I was working at the club, before Alberto got arrested, before Momma got sick. When he was finished, he closed the door and came out. I was still sitting and he sat down across and just stared at me. His eyes was looking different from when I used to know him. More black. Blackest things I ever saw. And he had been healing when he was sleeping. The bruising on his face was almost gone and his cuts was healing good. It made the scars stick out more. Made me be seeing them more. Made me really be understanding how much he changed. He must have been thirty or forty pounds skinnier. And he was whiter. Most white people I don't notice. They all be looking like they got the same skin. Just white. Ben was white white. Paper white. And them scars was even whiter. Like glossy paint over regular paint. And he just stared at me. Them black eyes calming me down so I could actually be feeling my heart slowing down. And when I was real calm, and not even wanting to smoke no more, I spoke. What happened to you, Ben?

I changed.

No s.h.i.t there. What happened?

It doesn't matter.

Does to me.

What matters is what I have become.

What's that?

Someone who loves you.

You don't know me well enough to love me.

One must know oneself to love, not know others.

You sound like a preacher.

I'm not.

You gonna try to save me?

You're going to save you.

How I'm going to do that?

Give me your pipe, your drugs.

What you gonna do with them?

Put them on the table.

They're mine.

Yes.

I need them.

No.

I do.

Why?

Because I f.u.c.king do.

Put them on the table. I'm going to show you something.

You try to use them and I'll f.u.c.k you up.

He smiled, stared at me, waited. If I saw him on the street, I'd think he was a crackhead for f.u.c.king real. But sitting with him and talking to him, I didn't think it. I didn't have no reason to trust him, 'cept how he was looking at me, but I did. Trusted him like I had never trusted no man or no white person ever. So I took my s.h.i.t outta my pocket and put it on the table. Ben didn't even look at it. Just kept looking at me. And then he stood up and walked around the table and leaned over and started kissing me. Real slow at first, real light, just brushing his lips right against mine. And it felt good, felt right. So we started kissing more, using our lips like we was meaning it, using our tongues. Kissing like we meant it, like we was in love. And he lifted me outta that chair, like I weighed nothing. And he took off my clothes. And he put me on the table. And he licked me, and sucked me, and f.u.c.ked me till I couldn't see straight. Lying right next to my drugs. He showed me how to get high. He showed me what it felt like to feel good. He f.u.c.ked me, and he loved me, and when he came inside me, it fulfilled more than any person, school, church, book, or G.o.d had in my life. He whispered I love you in my ear and he came inside me and it felt like I was right inside. It felt like what it was supposed to feel like to be believing in all those other things.

When we was finished that first time, he stayed inside me a long time. Just stayed inside and kissed me and held me. And then he picked me up, still inside me, and carried me to bed. And he put me down on that bed with his arms around me and we went to sleep. I didn't think about being poor. I didn't think about what I was doing for money. I didn't think about my brother rotting in a f.u.c.king cell. About my mother dying in a f.u.c.king hospital where n.o.body cared. About being black in a country where it means I ain't got no chance. About my daughter who wasn't gonna have no chance either. About a life stretching out in front of me where it never gets to be any better. The feeling of arms around me, of love in my heart, it was more powerful than any of the negativity I knew was existing in the world for me. That feeling of love killed it all.

When I woke up, he was gone. I went in to be looking in on Mercedes and she was still sleeping. I was supposed to be working so I started getting ready. Taking me a shower and doing my makeup in the bathroom. When I went out to the kitchen, my s.h.i.t was still there on the table. Made me f.u.c.king sick to see it there, made me sick to be thinking that's what I'd been doing for the last year. Made me sick to be thinking why I'd been doing it and why I was just getting ready. For money. For money that didn't make a difference. Didn't get me or my daughter out of anywhere or anything. Didn't change how I felt in my heart or how I was feeling when I looked in the mirror. Was just something I could hold in my hand. Money don't mean nothing when your heart is empty.

So I picked that s.h.i.t up and threw it out the window. Figured some crackhead would find it and have a surprise, there was enough of 'em around. And I didn't go to work. Didn't even bother calling. They wasn't gonna miss me. They might not have even been noticing I was gone. Was gonna be easy to find another girl, 'cause they always too many out there willing to throw it around for the money. I ain't judging, 'cause I did it. It's the way of the world. You use what you got, and that's all that too many women got.

I waited for Ben. Mercedes woke up and I got her and gave her a big long hug. We went out and started playing in the living room, singing songs and tickling. I started getting a little sick, was starting to realize I might be needing the crack I throwed out. I went over to the window and looked down and it was still there. Was some kind of miracle it hadn't been picked up. I know in the Bible they be saying miracles is withering some motherf.u.c.king fig tree or some s.h.i.t, but in the world I live in, the real f.u.c.king world, a miracle is a vial of crack lying on the ground in an American housing project unclaimed for more than three f.u.c.king minutes. But there it was. Tempting me. Calling to me. Not even calling, it was screaming at me. I could hear Mercedes behind me. I started telling myself love stronger than drugs, stronger than anything, love stronger, but telling ain't always believing. You can tell yourself anything you want, but until you believe what you're telling yourself, you're wasting words. I was ready to go down there. Ready to go. So I turned and walked towards the door. When I opened it, Ben was sitting on the floor. He smiled. I started talking.

What you doing?

Sitting.

How long you been sitting there?

A while.

Doing what?

Just sitting.

I looked at him. Just sitting there on the floor.

He smiled at me, spoke.

You want to go back inside.

I smiled.

Yeah.

May I come in?

Yeah.

He stood up and followed me back inside. We played with Mercedes for a long time, singing and playing with her toys, and the whole time I was wanting to smoke. Dinner come around and Ben serve us more spaghetti. We eat at the table. When we finished I'm feeling really sick, shaking, wanting to jump out the f.u.c.king window. Ben have me put Mercedes to sleep and when I'm done I come out and he waiting for me. He take me to my room and lay me down and spend the rest of the night licking and sucking and f.u.c.king. And every time I got to feeling sick he do it again, till I finally fall asleep.

And that's the way it stay for a few days, maybe a week. Ben go out in the morning while I sleep and find food somewhere. When I wake up he with Mercedes, and whenever she nap or sleep or whenever I feel sick he take me in the bedroom or on the floor or the table. And he was always telling me he love me. That I'm beautiful. That I can live however I want to live. That life can be beautiful. That Mercedes love me and I can be a good momma. And I stop hearing it. I start believing it.

And then one day I wake up and know. Know that I'm okay and going to be good, or as good as I can be where I'm at. And I tell Ben and he smile. And I stop thinking just about me and ask him more about why he here with me. He tell me about living in the tunnels and being arrested and he tell me how he leave his family. And how he skipped on his bail. He tell me about his being able to speak to G.o.d. He tell me that he know things about the world, and that he know the world going to end if we don't change it. That man is sick. That the leaders of the world killing us all. Making us think we progressing while killing us. And it ain't like there be some big grand plan, they just ignorant. And greedy. And thinking about themselves. And thinking about their G.o.ds. Christians thinking they got G.o.d. Muslims thinking they got G.o.d. Jews thinking they got G.o.d. Everybody thinking G.o.d on their side. That G.o.d want them to kill and judge and dominate. And all of them wrong. All of them doing what they do in the name of something that don't exist like that. That fairy tales ruling the world. That G.o.d ain't part of the world that way. That G.o.d don't judge. G.o.d don't give power. That G.o.d something beyond the understanding of men or women on earth. That G.o.d ain't giving no gift of eternal life. The gift is the life we got, and when it's over, it's f.u.c.king over. No Heaven. No parties with relatives and people we love while the angels sing and play harps. No seventy-two virgins waiting for us to teach them how to f.u.c.k. No nothing. No G.o.d like we believe. Just the end. And all we got in the world is other people. And all we got with them is love. And not love like some dumba.s.s pop song. Love is just taking care of each other, and f.u.c.king each other, and letting each other live how we want to be living. And protecting each other from all the s.h.i.t that life throws us. That comes at us because that's f.u.c.king life, not because some fake silly G.o.d is trying to test us, or prepare us for the afterlife, or because he thinks we strong enough to deal with it. Bad s.h.i.t just happens. Ain't no reason for it 'cept that it's life. It ain't no f.u.c.king G.o.d. And everything he say making sense to me. Making more sense than everything else I hear in the world. Making more sense than the bulls.h.i.t politicians and preachers and popes spewing out every day. Making more sense than the bulls.h.i.t in textbooks and newspapers and on TV news shows. Making more sense than the bulls.h.i.t laws our government be trying to make us live by. The government that says One Nation Under G.o.d, but under what G.o.d? The old white man G.o.d with a beard who say blacks ain't got rights, Hispanics ain't got no rights, women ain't got rights, gays ain't got rights, and no one who ain't like him and believe like him ain't got no rights. f.u.c.k that. And f.u.c.k that G.o.d. And f.u.c.k all the fools believing in that G.o.d. They can come kiss my black a.s.s, 'cause that ain't no kind of Nation Under G.o.d, it's just f.u.c.king bulls.h.i.t.

Life settled down for me and Mercedes and Ben. I started taking me some GED cla.s.ses and got Mercedes in a daycare program in the project. It wasn't all daisies and bunnies and hugs, but it was better than sitting and watching TV. Ben would leave for the day. Said he would just wander around New York. Walk or get on the train and get off wherever he felt like it. Said he would just see people and talk to them and help them and love them. I know he was f.u.c.king some of them, 'cause I could smell it on him when he came back. Sometimes I'd ask him who and sometimes it was a woman, sometimes a man. I'd ask how he'd be helping people and he'd say however they needed it. I asked him how he loved them and he said however they needed it. I know he talked to some of them about how he could speak to G.o.d, about what G.o.d really is, about the way he saw the world. About how it going to end. And people believed him. They started showing up at my apartment. Sometimes they brought gifts, brought food or clothes, sometimes they brought money. Sometimes they'd be crying. Sometimes they'd be f.u.c.ked up on drugs or drunk. If he was home he'd let them in. Some of them he'd take in his arms and whisper in their ear. Some he'd sit with on the couch and take their hands and stare at them. Sometimes he'd stand by the window with them and talk real soft. Some he'd take in the bedroom, men and women both, and he'd close the door, and I know he'd be f.u.c.king them, and loving them, and making them better, same as he did to me. Some he put his hands on their cheeks and he'd kiss them real light. I don't know what he was ever saying or doing to them people, but they'd leave better. They'd leave different. They'd leave with that true belief in their heart. And they'd be telling other people. So Ben started having people saying things about him. That he had powers. That he could perform miracles. That he could save you or change you or make your life better. That he was a prophet. That he was a holy man. That Christ had come back. That he was the Messiah. The Messiah the world been waiting for and praying for and worshipping for, that he was the man come to save us or let us all die. He never said nothing about anything of that. People would say things to him about it and he'd smile and say nothing at all or say if you say so. What he told me was important was him loving all the people and making them so they was leaving better than they was when they came. That was what G.o.d was. Making people still living their lives in this world feel better. All the rest was just made-up fantasy stories.

When it was just us, it was like we was married, but not hating each other like most married people being. Was like we was a couple. He didn't seem to be loving me any more or any different than anyone else, but we was together, and he always came back, even when he'd be gone for a night or two, and I was always knowing he'd come back, never doubting nothing. It didn't matter I was only nineteen and he was thirty-one, and it didn't matter we was different colors and had been raised different or that our parents was from different countries, speaking different languages and believing in different G.o.ds. We just loved each other. Didn't want each other to be no different. Didn't b.i.t.c.h about what we didn't like 'bout each other. Was accepting of each other as human f.u.c.king beings. Who felt the same s.h.i.t. Knew the same kind of pain. And knew that love was the only weapon against that pain. Nothing else can end it or stop it. That's what Ben taught me more than anything. That we got this gift of life and we got it one time and we gonna get hurt in it and be hurt going through it and the only thing that'll make that hurt better or hurt less is love. And part of our love was f.u.c.king. Ben loved to f.u.c.k. He loved to kiss me and lick my body and suck on everything I got. When Mercedes was sleeping and no one was knocking on the door, we'd spend all our time f.u.c.king. f.u.c.ked for hours and hours. He never got tired of f.u.c.king. Said coming was the closest thing any human on earth would ever know about Heaven. That there wasn't no pearly gates, no trumpeters, no man waiting with some book 'bout all the good s.h.i.t and bad s.h.i.t we supposedly done in our lives, 'specially when most of what we do ain't good or bad, just boring. That there ain't no one gonna judge us and decide we can be in that all-time never-ending party or get sent to burn. That there ain't no party like that, just like there ain't no ball for Cinderella and her sisters, or prom for Barbie, or labyrinth with a bull that gonna eat your a.s.s up. But there's the feeling you get when you c.u.m. When everything disappears. When your body tells you it loves you and everything in the world is perfect and secure and safe. When you feel better than you ever feel any other time in your life. That feeling you wish wouldn't never end. He said people that try to say it's wrong is just stupid. That people who say f.u.c.king is wrong is just stupid. That say you got to f.u.c.k under certain conditions laid out by G.o.d are just f.u.c.king stupid. No one should tell other people how to f.u.c.k. Said people who take vows not to do it are denying themself one of the greatest gifts we got in the world. That men in silly robes singing songs in dead languages who ain't never f.u.c.ked in their life certainly got no right. That maybe if they f.u.c.ked, they'd understand G.o.d in a way no book and no cardinal and no pope could ever be telling them. He said if everyone who went to church or temple or mosque spent all that wasted time f.u.c.king instead of praying to made-up s.h.i.t, the world wouldn't be ending soon. And he right. And you know he right. If you look in your heart, and if you've ever c.u.m in your life, you know he absolutely right.

After my cla.s.ses and before I'd get Mercedes and go home, I'd go see my momma. They had moved her to some place where people watched her and tried to make sure she was comfortable and she lied in a bed and her body was just wasting away. She was hurting real bad. Her body eating itself. Eating all its organs and eating all its bones. Cancer everywhere and no way to do a thing about it. There wasn't ever a thing to do about it. Most days I was strong and I'd hold her hand. Some days I'd just sit by her bed and cry. They'd just be giving her more and more drugs. Drugs that make her someone she wasn't, make her something not even a person. Just some flesh lying there breathing. You ever sat by the bed of someone dying you know what it's like. There ain't nothing you can do. You just sit there feeling pain like nothing else on earth. You sit there feeling helpless and empty. When they awake, every second you sit with them you know that they gonna die soon. Every word you say got this weight on it 'cause you know there ain't gonna be many more words. Everyone comes into the room do their best to be happy and seem cheery. To be talking about s.h.i.t that ain't got nothing to do with death. But it's always there. The sickness. The death. The fact there ain't nothing to do about it. The fact that they won't be no more. That they gonna go in the ground and rot. And that you gonna go on living. And you can say whatever you want and tell them you love them and do everything in the world to make their pa.s.sing easier, but it don't change. They feel the pain. And the only way to stop the pain is load up on so many drugs that you a vegetable, or die. And in the meantime, everyone that loves you just feels the pain. The worst pain you can know.

Momma was getting worse and worse, but not dying. Just being in pain. The doctors wasn't even around anymore. Just nurses and people doing their best to have her be comfortable. She started telling me she wanted to die. Every day she tell me she don't want to go on, that it hurt too much, that she ready. I tell her she gonna be okay, that she got to keep fighting, but she tell me she don't want to fight no more. That her whole life been a fight. Growing up in a shack in a broke s.h.i.tty country was a fight, coming to America thinking her life would be better was a fight, being in New York and realizing that nothing gonna be better, that the American Dream only for people with the right skin and the right accent was a fight. That raising two kids without no husband or man and without no money or family or help while she cleaned the houses of people who seemed to be getting everything real easy was a fight, that watching those kids drift and watching her dreams for them die was a fight. That getting cancer and not being able to afford to do anything about it was a fight. It was all a fight, from the moment she came screaming outta her momma 'til she ended up where she ended up, in some rundown place with c.o.c.kroaches and rats and crackheads outside and gunshots every night, what they call a peaceful place where they send poor people to die. She was done. She didn't want it no more. I cried, wailed, sobbed, begged her, told her I didn't want her to go. She smiled and said she loved me. And then they gave her more drugs and she pa.s.sed out.

When I went home I was doing terrible. I couldn't stop crying. Mercedes come over to me, say it's okay, Momma, it's okay. And it make me cry harder 'cause I wish I could tell my beautiful little three-year-old girl that I love so much and that I want to have whatever she want in the world and that I would die for that it ain't okay, that the world is f.u.c.ked up, that pain and suffering everywhere, that people hurt each other and hate each other and kill each other for no good reason, that we live and then we die and when we die that's it, we gone, just f.u.c.king gone. I wish I could tell her that she would be okay. That she gonna have a great life, but I know I'd be a liar. She gonna grow up, get hurt, and someone gonna break her heart and she ain't probably gonna have what she want in life and she gonna get treated like dirt and she gonna bust her a.s.s alone and then she gonna die. There ain't no beauty in that, there ain't nothing but pain. So I cried harder. For Momma and me and her and everyone else in the world that ain't got and never gonna. I cried and I couldn't stop. It wasn't gonna be okay.

Ben came in and saw me and asked me what was wrong. I couldn't even be talking for a long time. Just cried. And he put his arms around me. I wanted some of whatever he did to other people to make their pain go away. I waited for him to make me free. He didn't whisper nothing in my ear. Didn't put my face in his hands and stare at me. Didn't talk. He just held me and had Mercedes come over and he put his arms around both of us. And he just hold the both of us. And I didn't stop crying for a long time. And then I did. And Ben ask me what's wrong and I tell him and I start crying again. Momma's in pain and she's dying and there ain't nothing to f.u.c.king do. She don't want to be living no more, say she ready to go, that she love life but she in too much pain. And I got to sit there with her knowing it, and feeling it, and hurting so much it make me want to die, and there ain't nothing to f.u.c.king do.

Ben waited for me to stop crying again. He looked into my eyes for a real long time, then spoke.

You would die for her?

Momma?

Yes.

Yeah.

You love her that much?

Yeah, her or for Mercedes. I would die for them.

And you know that without doubt or hesitation.

Yes.

He smiled. He took my hand and he standed up and he took Mercedes in her room and he put on her best dress and her best shoes and he make her hair pretty with some ribbons and barrettes. He tell me to get dressed in my best clothes so I go to our room and I put on the nicest I got, a dress I bought when I was first starting working at the club and was thinking that maybe church every Sunday would make me feel better. It was before I learned that crack was stronger than G.o.d. At least that G.o.d they be praying to on the cross.

We left the project and went to the place where they had Momma. She was awake when we went into her room, lying there, and we could hear her moaning as we came down the hallway to her. Ben stood aside and let us into the room first. Momma had her blanket pulled down so we could see how thin she was, how there wasn't nothing left of her, just skin hanging off her bones. Mercedes went running over to the side of the bed, saying Abuela, Abuela. Momma lifted her hand just a little bit, put it right on her head, said h.e.l.lo. I went over to kiss Momma and she try to touch my head but she couldn't be lifting her hand enough. I ask her how she doing and she shake her head. Mercedes give her a kiss and she try to smile but she couldn't really even be doing it, so sick she couldn't even be smiling at her granddaughter. I told her Ben was there, the white boy used to be our neighbor. Ben step behind me so she can see him. She look at him long time, like she trying to recognize him, and I'm thinking it's probably being hard for her 'cause he looking so different. I see her looking real close, and he just staring at her, right into her eyes, just staring. She smiled and say real soft I know who that is, thank you for bringing him, Mariaangeles. I ask her what she talking about and she try to smile again, and do it a little better. Ben put his hand on my shoulder and ask me real soft if I'm ready and I look at him and ask for what and he say to say goodbye. I look at Momma and she still trying to be smiling at me all skin and bones just lying there in pain and dying. Dying too slow. Dying without no dignity or peace. Dying misery and s.h.i.t in a bed that's held way too many other people who died in it. Every time I looked at that bed I was thinking about how many people died in it, and how my momma was just another one.

Ben told me to go around and take Momma's hand, so I did it. He had Mercedes take her other hand. He whispered in Mercedes' ear, and Mercedes kiss Momma and say I love you. He looks at me and smiles and I know what he wants me to be doing and I lean over and kiss her and tell her I love her and I thank her for doing the best she could be doing. I hold her hand real tight and I tell her how much I'll be missing her and how I'm going to do the best I can to be a good momma to Mercedes. I start crying again. I know what's going to be coming. And even though it's what Momma wants and is the right thing, I start crying.

Ben stepped around Mercedes and sat himself down on the edge of the bed. Momma smiled at him, first real smile of the day. He leaned over and kissed each of her cheeks and her forehead. He took her cheeks in his hands and started whispering to her, real quiet, and I couldn't hear what he was saying. She was occasionally answering yes, and after he finished he pull back and look her right in the eyes. He kiss her one more time, and he tell her he loves her, and she says I love you, too. He continue to stare at her, right into her eyes, and I see her eyes start to slowly close. I start crying harder. I know when them eyes close they ain't going to open again. Mercedes is saying Abuela over and over again, like she think her grandma is going to be able to say something back. And Ben just stared at her, and she stared back at him, and just before she went, before her eyes closed for good and she went into the blackness, I saw peace in 'em. I saw calm. I saw happiness. And I saw that little thing you see in someone's eyes when they got love in their heart.

More than anything else.

I saw love.

MARK.