by kat chua
Roy and I have been seeing each other for a month. With my left leg intertwined on his, we sit in the midst honking cars, barking dogs, and madmen without a generations. We listen to a duct-taped cassette recorder playing: May 11, 2006, Saturday Rainstorm. (Yes, I record rainstorms). It is lulling Roy to sleep. With my head pressing the recorder in place on his right shoulder, and nuzzling underneath the stubble of Roy�s goat-tee, I shut my eyes in nostalgia of the future; I imagine we are alone, that Roy isn�t leaving in two months, that this is NOT just a summer fling. I imagine we are in love.
God apparently listens to imagination. At least for this evening: Alvin is six feet tall with dark chocolate skin. Wearing a Hawaiian like maroon shirt, he parks his mildly drunken state next to us. Mild mannered and seeming to mean no harm, he immediately turns to Roy and me. �Don�t let her boss you around. You�re the man!�
We smile with alert eyes.�But be good to her. She�s beautiful. Hang on to her, you hear me?�
I squeeze Roy�s hand, which is draped over my right shoulder. I am entertained and in agreement with Alvin.�I will,� responds Roy, who is seemingly both curious and humored. �No. You gotta understand. Let me tell it to you straight. I�m older than you and I�m giving you advice you should take. Look at her.� Alvin gestures with his hands waving in the air.
�Yes. She is beautiful,� whispers Roy.
I squeeze Roy�s hand.�But the important part is that you hang on to her.�
With speed, I say, �Yes! Hang on to me Roy. Don�t let me go because--I know it�s only been a month. I know I�m younger than you. I know you�re older-- whatever--I just--Hang on to me Roy and don�t let go, because as clich� as this may sound, you�re the one I�ve been looking for. Give us a chance to fall madly in love.� I scream these words in my head. Electricity runs through my body.
On the outside I am composed, because-well, let�s be honest, we have only known each other for a month and we�re in public; I�m not one for that kind of attention. This is a lie.
Alvin begins his tale, �Let me tell you. I was married once. Two and half years. Boy did that woman love me.�
Roy and I smile with hints of concern that Alvin�s story would not have a happy ending.
�She loved me so much that she lied. Didn�t tell me she had cancer �til two weeks before she died. Tells me �honey, the doctors have given me threeweeks to live,� three weeks!� Alvin�s eyes roll towards the sky. �Three weeks." He shakes his head in shame. �She had stage-four cancer.�
I quietly whisper, �I�m sorry,� and think of the recent lives lost in Roy�s world and mine.
With his eyes coming down from the sky, Alvin continues, �I wanted to hug her and keep her safe, in the time she had left. I told her-I promised her that I wouldn�t leave her side.� Alvin shifts his body, which has taken me this long to realize, is aged and worn. �You know what she said to me?� His eyes glimmering, reflecting the streetlight hovering over us, probably also listening to Alvin. ��Make love to me,� she says, �just like you did last night.� Can you believe that? You know what I did?�
There is moment of silent wonder in the air before Alvin declares, �I hit that ass! Man we made love like-I mean I had that woman hollering. Now I�m a big man! Penis wise, ya see�.�
Humored, embarrassed, and recovering from the Alvin�s change of tune, Roy and I shift in our seats. Alvin notices our discomfort in the periphery of his mild drunkenness and vivid description of making love to his wife. He smiled, �just hang on to her man.� His eyes gesture toward me.
I squeeze Roy�s hand.
Roy replies, �I will.�
He squeezes my hand.
As we pry our June-New York-sweat from the benches and head for the train, we walk in comfortable silence. No doubt we were both thinking about Alvin, his wife, his trials, us; individually, together.
Roy places his palm to cup my forehead. He knows this calms me. I wrapped my arms around his waist, placing myself under his arms. I squeeze him, giggle, and smile, in a way that Roy calls mischievous. He smiles.
I am 5�2� and he is 6�3�, we are a perfect fit.