Stronger Ties

I was a bad person, not bad in the sense that I was a criminal. I was bad in the sense that I treated people like shit. I loved it. I had a friend whose name was frank, but on the street they called him cockeye. He hated that name, because his eyes were cockeyed. I guess I would hate a name like that also if I was him. He and I went back a long time. I've known him since elementary school. Even though his eyes almost popped out of his head no one messed with him. He was a tough kid. I was not like him, maybe I resented him for having everything I wanted. The only thing I had going for me was my looks.  

Growing up we were the duo, unstoppable. He brought the protection and I brought the girls. We thought we were hot shit. That was until Frank got a girl, a Puerto Rican girl. Her name was Isabel. I couldn’t lie.  She was beautiful, with long frizzled hair and a tan complexion. She even had a booty that seemed almost unnatural. She was young also, it was great for Frank, not so much for me. It didn’t happen slowly, it went from seeing him everyday to every other day, then it went to once a week. He always made excuses, like “it’s my girl, you should know.” I knew to touch women, not stay with them. I wanted to lecture him, force him to leave her, but I only had the looks. 

I kept running the street, going to clubs and gambling shacks. I won money, lost money. But when I lost money I knew how to drown my sorrows. I could find just about any woman and talk in her ear. I could speak sweet nothings to her, show her a fantasy. A fantasy that we could be so much more, but it was all a lie.  One night I hit big. I won a thousand dollars, the most I had ever won. I won playing poker. As I left the table I went to the bar to cash in a little on my prize, nothing better than getting wasted after a great night. 

I asked for a shot of vodka, not a party drink, but enough to get me wasted. God knew I needed to be wasted. As the shot cup hit the table I picked it up, gently. I took it straight down, letting out a small couch. “You must be a lightweight.” A smooth gentle voice walked on the drums of my ears. The voice was almost serene, like listening to a breeze in the wind. I loved to wind, it reminded me of when I was young. A youthful sound. She was right, I was a lightweight. As I looked at her I couldn’t think straight. Maybe it was the tiredness also that made me dizzy, but I couldn’t see her clearly. 

“I am a lightweight, but vodka is strong. But looking at you, you probably need something gentle. You know I‘m gentle. Gentle like a butterfly. You should let me buy you a drink, I can tell you need one.” I thought my skills were a little rusty, a little straight forward, but classy at the same time. As I finished I could swear I heard a sniffle. I could tell I hit a nerve. I felt a hand touch my hand. She wanted my warmth I could tell. She needed a connection.  

After a little bit of sweet talking and a few drinks, she took me to her place. I never got her name when we were at the bar, she was shy but willing.  Her place was decent when it came to size, but all I was interested in was the bedroom. She was a touchy woman. I could smell her intoxicating perfume, as she led me into the bed. I felt something different, maybe it was her or maybe me, but she was unlike any woman I had ever been with. 

The next morning was worse. I had a headache; I was still dizzy, but my vision was clearer. All my clothes were scattered on the floor.  I looked to my side as a woman’s arms  were around my waist and her face pressed to my side. My eyes widened. I realized who I had slept with, it was Isabel, her bare skin was pressed to mine. I panicked, and jumped out of bed. I hurried to put on my clothes. I was hopping as I struggled to put on my pants. I was making a loud noise, it almost seemed like the ground was shaking. 

My heart stopped as I heard the sound of a door closing. I fell to the ground. All I could think was one word. Shit! The sound of footsteps came closer as I looked for a place to hide, with no luck. I tried to hurry and get my clothes on, maybe if I was dressed, just maybe I might get out alive. But it was too late. Her door opened, as I saw the face on Frank turn from shock to anger. There were few words exchanged. “You mother fucker!” His bulking body came toward, fist first. Within a fraction of a second I fell to the ground with the force of fist hitting my jaw. All I heard next was a scream and a few words. 

“Baby I’m sorry!” I didn’t know what Frank was thinking, but I tried to understand how he felt and thought in that moment, as fist rained on my face. Blow after blow and the thoughts in Frank's mind filled into mine. I could feel his anger and passion in that moment, as my face began to swell up. I thought I was a dead man, a man on his way to hell. Some say you see your life flash before your eyes, but all I saw was darkness and shame, and A type of shame that only a true man at rock bottom can feel.  

Though my life was leaving me I had to say something, something to leave my friend with, let him know I understood him or tried to understand him in some way. “I am sorry, friend.”  as I let loose those words a silence spoke for it’s self, it was apparent that Frank would let it be and let me live. All I could think was thank God.  My breath heaved. I couldn’t open my eyes, that was my punishment, God knows I deserved it. 

“Thank you” I told him, trying to show him who I was. I hoped we both understood each other in some way. 

“Fuck you.” He said in a heavy breath, I guess I deserved the words.