All This Life

It’s a solid shot and drops Willie to the floor and Noah911 takes a deep breath, knowing what comes next. The first thing he feels comes from behind, a shot in the kidney, buckling him over, but he’s not going to fall, no way is he going down yet, and now another fist finds his temple and he sees a bright light, loses any sense of where he is, might very well be zipped up in that suitcase, and here comes somebody grabbing him in a bear hug, tucking his arms so he can’t defend himself, and Willie is up off the floor, saying, “Hold him still. Hold him still,” and Noah911 feels two punches straight in the face, another in the stomach, and the hyena who’s been holding his arms is now the only thing keeping him on his feet, a few more swings, a hook to the liver, an uppercut to the chin and he bites his tongue, tasting blood and freedom, and a wide hook lands on his eye socket and they let him fall to the bar’s floor.

The bartender screams into the phone, “Send the cops, send the cops, send the cops!”

The other men who had been drinking at the bar all scurry from the premises.

Noah911 looks up, lying under the bar’s starry sky.

He can’t hear the news but knows they’re still talking about the brass band, maybe a close-up of Tracey’s face and the newscaster asking earnestly, “Who was looking out for this young lady?”

He sees the four hyenas huddled around him. They’re looking down at him, inspecting their kill.

It doesn’t make any sense to Noah911 why they’ve stopped. No need for mercy on somebody so useless, so unconscionable, so undeserving of sympathy.

He says, “You guys punch like pussies.”

Which brings the boots, a couple of them kicking him while the others stomp on his chest and midsection, and he turns on his side so he can get enough air to take a breath, bringing his arms over his solar plexus to maybe defend his stomach but also maybe to leave his face free, exposed, open. Leave his face available for any gracious violence.

12

Sara sees the river and knows she has to swim. It was one thing pretending with Hank in the empty pool, but here, in the late afternoon sun, she can’t wait to be in the water.

She’s without a bathing suit and that means stripping down to her bra and panties. The way she figures it, however, what’s the big deal, with the sex tape broadcasting her bits all over the world? Hank says the sex tape will die down, and she’s trying to believe that, trying to hurdle the initial shock and hoping the whole thing fades to a tolerable decibel. That it will become another clip in a wide sea of them online.

Sara kicks off her shorts, pulls her shirt over her head, and throws them on the shore. She walks into the water, up to her waist. The cool temperature feels amazing, as the day’s still over 90˚.

She floats on her back in about three feet of water, looking up at the white sky; without sunglasses it’s almost impossible to stare straight up, but she tries, sees some rainbows around the edge of her eyes. She wonders if corneas smell like burning hair as they char. She decides to shut them, to enjoy the cool water and quiet. To enjoy his company, assuming Rodney ever gets the nerve to exit the car. Maybe he’s never seen a woman in a bra and panties before. It’s a possibility that Sara hadn’t thought about until right now. She’s not trying to make him uncomfortable, not at all. She has no inhibitions around him, given their history. This isn’t going to lead to a hookup or anything. Sara knows this isn’t a big thing, but does he? Is he wigging out in the car, wondering if it’s okay to approach the river since she’s more than half naked? He’s that kind of gentleman. Maybe the only one of those Sara has ever met. Rodney respects her, Sara knows that, and he’s the last person in the galaxy that holds her in esteem.

It’s also conceivable that Rodney watches a lot of porn, if he’s not getting the real deal, and Sara doesn’t think he is. Everyone needs to get off. She can’t hold it against him. Not really. But it would bother her if she knew Rodney has seen her video, because taking it in would denigrate what he thinks of her. It would have to. In his eyes, Sara would be marred, spoiled, and she can’t imagine losing his regard.