Weight of The World
Stop putting your hopes and dreams
in my hands
Stop thinking I'm perfect
and that my "perfection"
will somehow lift you up
I am not God
I am not your savior
I am only human
I am only human
So when I inevitably make mistakes
When I inevitably fail
before I succeed
Don't put the blame on me
Don't put your judgment on me
I can't solve all the world's problems
So when I inevitably make mistakes
When I inevitably fail
before I succeed
Don't demand
that I beg for your forgiveness
for making you cry
I am only human
I am only human after all
Revenge
His eyes were welling with tears as he looked at the man on the ground. I tried to speak but he just shrugged me off. My guardian, as the state calls him, isn't exactly the emotional type. Zorion Yago was one of the most ruthless gang leaders in the world, according to the America's Most Wanted list. Known for his gang's brutal acts of violence on the streets of Providence, most people wouldn't expect him to be crying over a stabbed man, but I knew better. It wan't the killed, it was the killer.
Zorion ran the streets of Providence ever since he immigrated to the United States from Nicaragua. Most people look at him like he's the godfather, but to me he's more like the epitome of the American dream. He came with nothing, and in two years time, he had an empire. It was just built on the blood of enemies. He was coming up on his tenth year when he got bad news. His third cousin, Isabela, had overdosed in some crummy apartment in the Bronx and her three kids were alone in that apartment. Once the constable found out the kids were illegal, they were due to be shipped back. Zorion sent a few guys to talk to the sheriff while he got the papers. Eight hours later, I saw him for the first time in my life.
I don't remember much about my life before Zorion came on the scene except that my mom always had needle marks and my brother never stopped crying. That's the lie I tell him. I didn't want him to worry, but I guess now I have to come clean. We came when I was three. That's what Yesenia says. She was five and can remember it better. Mama came for a better life for us but that all changed when she met Eden. I can remember him perfectly. Green eyes, slick blonde hair, a cigarette always dangling from his mouth... Mama was turned on by his words and within two months, he was living with us. Mama worked three jobs to crape up enough to eat while Eden cheated on her with any girl he saw. It wasn't until our cousin Dolores talked about me wetting the bed that she noticed something was wrong.
But, Mama was pregnant and dumb and in love. When Lazaro was born, Eden was at our house with the neighbor. When Lazaro would be up crying, Eden would slip out, leaving my mother passed out and me and my sister to try to assuage his cries. When Lazaro was saying his first words, my mother was through with Eden. She had caught him in our room and grabbed a knife to cut him. She didn't kill him, but he was gone. We were fine, so it seemed. Our mother took us to a doctor, but there were too many forms to fill out so she just left. But, the stress was building inside of all of us. Our mother only made it two weeks with knowing. She overdosed on Lazaro's first birthday. Yesenia was on the right path until she met a guy who tried to manipulate her. Zorion buried him a few months into their relationship, but not before Yesenia got pregnant with twins. And then there was me...
Zorion wiped the tears from his face. The whole way home he blasted Lil Wayne, but I could see he wasn't in the mood. I turned the radio off, and received the coldest glare ever. We were locked in it for a few seconds before he turned away. More tears were forming.
"I had to do it," I mumbled.
"You don't have to do anything. You should've called."
"It would've been too late."
"No, it wouldn't have! Dammit, Erlea. You were going to college! You were going to be something. Now, you killed someone. We can clean it up and get rid of the evidence but it doesn't erase what you did!"
Tears were falling from my face. He ignored them.
"And why were you even at that damn club? You're only eighteen! Didn't I tell you not to drink until you're legal? Your sister drank when she was too young and nearly got herself killed. Is that what you want? Do you want to end up in a fucking grave, Erlea?"
Sobbing, I turned away from him. I hated when he compared us. Me and Yesenia may have been through the same thing but we were not the same. Yesenia had three kids, no husband, and three jobs. I was going places. Twelve years after everything, I had turned my life around. I worked my ass off in school to make sure I didn't have to drop out when I was sixteen like she did. I babysat and saved and worked to pay for my own college so Zorion wouldn't have to give me anything. I didn't even want to go to that club, but it was too late. It was all too late. The man who had ruined my life before was ruining it again.
"What do you have to say for yourself?" Zorion said.
"That was Eden," I sobbed.
"What?" The car was stopped and his mood had completely changed. Angry drivers whizzed past us.
"That was Eden," I said a bit louder.
He just nodded, put the car back into Drive, and continued home. Lazaro was up waiting for us.
"Where were you guys?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.
"I had to help your sister. Go to bed," Zorion replied. He kissed his forehead and directed him towards the stairs. "Night, Laz. Love you."
"Night."
I tried to saunter upstairs, but he pulled me into the parlor instead. Blood still stained my dress, and I couldn't stop crying. Zorion handed me some tissues and waited until I stopped. After a while, he looked at me and sighed.
"I didn't know that was him," he said.
"You were right. I ruined my life."
He pulled me into his arms and patted my head. "You didn't ruin your life, okay? We're going to fix this."
"You shouldn't have to. The therapist said I should be okay. The doctor said it too. But, he kept trying to hit on me and said he'd hurt Yesenia if I didn't go out back and- and-"
He just held me tighter as I cried. "I understand."
"No you don't. He did things to me I can't begin to get over."
Zorion looked at me. "I know, Erlea. I understand. It happened to me too."
"But you're a-"
"Stone-hearted killer?" he laughed. We'd always laugh at how the media portrayed him, but this time, I couldn't find the humor. "I didn't start out this way, you know."
"But who could hurt you? You're-"
"Zorion. Yeah, I know. Listen, I don't like to talk about it. Just know that what you did was right, okay? Any jury could see it, but we'll just let that dirt bag rot like he deserves, okay? Not even a mother can love someone who does that to a child. We're going to get you cleaned up."
He stood and offered me his hand. I hesitated. "Does that mean you don't believe I'll be like Yesenia?"
"I know your sister made some mistakes, but that isn't you. You're destined for greatness, Erlea. Now that that scumbag is dead, you can get it."
Sacrifice
(Challenge: 2nd Date with God)
____________________________________
"Prove it. What would you do?"
The question is a loaded one. She sits, utterly relaxed, cigar smoke pooling around her like some kind of halo. Her highball glass, half-emptied of an old fashioned, gently swirls as she toys with it.
I don't know what to say.
"I'd never really considered it, I suppose." It is all I can do to choke out that answer. To fill the empty air between us, I nervously sip on my bloody mary.
I know who she is, of course. She'd made it abundantly clear by demonstrating a minor miracle the last time we saw one another. I was charmed, amazed, and petrified, all at once.
She'd done her best to soothe my fears, but it's hard not to be awestruck. It's even harder to not be more than a little afraid.
I was half expecting a trumpeting Michael, or something, but was relieved when I received a simple text. "I'm having a drink at Paul's Place tonight at 7, if you'd like to join me. I'll be glad to see you."
Unpretentious, unassuming, but still a little cocky. Like I didn't have plans tonight? Like I would just drop everything because she was going to be at some little cigar bar down the street from me?
Of course I canceled the dinner plans I had with my friends from work, and here I am.
What would you do, she aks. The irony of the question isn't lost, to be sure. Images of cheesy bumper stickers flash in my mind, and I'm sure that is her intention. Legions of her lemmings practically line up wearing those tee-shirts and wristbands.
"We'll put a pin in that for now." Peering over the brim of her glass, I can see a hint of laughter in her eyes as she sips the whiskey.
I sigh with relief. "Thank you." I practically chug my cocktail.
"You seem nervous."
"You should be used to that reaction."
"I want you to be relaxed. Completely at ease."
"How the hell am I supposed to do that?" Wincing, I snatch the celery from my glass and chomp down on it, to keep myself from speaking further.
To my surprise, she laughs. It is a throaty, deep laugh, not at all matronly or familial. It is ... almost seductive.
For the first time, I truly understand why women fall for powerful men. Images of presidents, actors, and fictional president actors flash in my mind. They always managed to attract such unlikely partners.
"Yes, that Kevin Spacey is something else, isn't he?" Her tone is playful, but I still choke on my celery. "Careful, A. Chew. Swallow. Breathe. I admit, sometimes the design leaves a little to be desired, with life and death so close to one another. I'm also a little disappointed, sometimes, in running the plumbing through the recreational area, but, well. Life is balance." She puffs her Nat Sherman and smirks.
A few patrons turn to look at me. At her gesture, they studiously begin to ignore my coughing. Finally, I recover, and I finish my drink in one gulp. As if by magic, a waiter whisks away the old glass and replaces it with a new, fresh drink.
"It isn't that I doubt your dedication, Abe. Truly, I don't. I know you love me."
I furiously nod my head in the affirmative.
She continues, "It's just that, well. Sometimes, I require...proof. It isn't for me, so much, as it is for them." She gestures with her smoldering cigar at the patrons of the bar. "They're savages. They mean well, I know. But they're still practically cave men, trembling at thunder and losing their fucking minds at every full moon. Don't even get me started on eclipses. Jesus." The single large ice cube clinks as it bounces off of the glass as she drains it. Staring off into nowhere, she fishes out the orange slice, absentmindedly nibbling the fruit before discarding the rind onto her small square napkin. Before she speaks again, another Old Fashioned replaces her empty one. "The wait staff is very attentive here," she comments.
"I think they know you." I manage a feeble laugh.
"People haven't known me in a long time, Abe." Sadness creeps into her voice, and it scares me more than wrath. She turns her gaze towards me, peering within. "Tell me about Sarah."
It catches me off guard.
"Tell you what?" I'm flustered. "I mean, you already know, right?"
She sighs.
"Indulge me, would you?" Expectantly, she pulls on her cigar.
"I mean, she's a good woman. A great mother."
"But?"
"But we were just incompatible."
"So you're between wives, is it?" Her eyes twinkle.
"Something like that. But I'm in no hurry to remarry."
"I see. Is that why you are on Tinder?"
"Well, yes. I mean, I get lonely."
"Oh, that I can understand."
"What about you? Why would you...need Tinder?"
"I tried Grinder for a while, but I got bored. Not enough conversation. I figured I'd switch avatars, see what happens."
"Don't you already know what's going to happen?" I nervously pluck the olive from its little plastic sword.
"I still like to experiment, Abe. That's how we ended up with wonderful things like the platypus. And artichokes."
I don't quite know how to respond to that, so I go on about my ex-wife. "Sarah is a fantastic mother, but she agreed that we weren't a great fit. I mean, our parents arranged the wedding, and all that. Very old world."
"I'm fond of the Old World. People truly knew me, then."
"Sorry, I didn't mean to..." I trail off, thinking it best to just take another drink.
She sighs. "Oh, stop apologizing. You know me just fine. That's why we're here."
"To be fair, we're here because the picture you posted was hella hot."
She smiles. "Thanks."
"I mean, you practically look like a carbon-copy of Scarlet Johansen."
"There are no accidents, Abe."
"Right." Another nervous sip. I consider asking about geoducks or naked mole rats, but I let it ride. It's almost too easy to let my mouth run, with the Grey Goose coursing through me.
"You're right about Sarah. She is a good woman. I'm sorry you two haven't been able to make things work. I'll send you someone you'll be fully compatible with, if you like."
"I'm in no hurry. Playing the field has been fun." I sip.
"You're getting no younger." She sips.
"True. And my tastes seem to stay the same." I sip a lot, blushing at the confession.
"Lucky for you there are a lot of ladies out there who like older, wiser men." She spares me a small smile.
"I'm not exactly old, you know."
"No, but you will be."
"So you're telling me my future, now?" Vodka makes me bold, it seems.
She grins, and I relax. I'm not sure how far I can carry things with her.
Finishing with her cigar, she puts her elbows on her knees. Leaning forward, she peers into my eyes. It takes everything I have not to squirm, gazing into that beautiful abyss.
"I'm going to make your dreams come true, Abe. All of them. Every. Last. One. Because I like you." My reaction to her words is visceral. Crude.
She glances down at the physical manifestation of my enthusiasm.
Smirking, she traces a finger along my thigh.
"Answer my original question, Abraham. Will you prove that you love me?"
Stammering, I finally release a "Yes" at nearly a yell. To make sure my point gets across, I nod enthusiastically.
"Great. Then let's go pick up Isaac from his mom's house."
God help me, I know what she means me to do, but I still can't lead her out of the bar fast enough.
