South Central Noir

Eric rolled the trash can down the aisle and picked up strewn popcorn containers and empty giant drink cups. He started from the front row and worked himself to the back. When he got there, his foot stepped on something hard. Eric looked down at a black plastic bag. Inside were two VHS tapes, unidentified aside from Japanese writing on the labels stuck on the spines.

He rolled the trash can back to the lobby and pulled out the battered lost and found box that was stored behind the counter. Inside were a green sweater, a set of keys from five months ago, and three pairs of sunglasses. Eric was about to drop the VHS tapes into the box but then stopped himself. Sab had said that he could keep anything he wanted in the lost and found. He chose a pair of oversized tortoise-framed glasses and held onto the bag of VHS tapes. Even though it was dark, he wore the sunglasses and stuck the bag in his jacket as he retrieved his bike from storage and went out the back door.

Later that night, Eric snuck out of his bed when everyone was sleeping and carefully pushed in one of the videotapes in their VHS machine in the living room. On the TV he was shocked by what he saw. He had seen women’s boobies in Hustler magazines that boys brought to junior high school but he had never seen what this man was doing to the woman’s body with his burning cigarette, first to her nipples and then—

He heard his father stumble in the hallway en route to the bathroom. His heart pounding, Eric quickly ejected the tape and placed it inside his pajama bottom to cover his erection.

The next day was Halloween, but of course the Montgomerys wouldn’t be celebrating it in any way. Instead they walked to church for Friday-night service, Bibles clutched in their hands. Eric didn’t complain about missing out on any parties or trick-or-treating (even though he was too old for it, a few in his class still went out). He felt sick to his stomach about what he had seen on that videotape. It looked like real tears were rolling down the woman’s cheeks, her lopsided mouth crying out for the man to stop it.

While Eric sat in the sanctuary, he prayed for Jesus to erase those images from his mind. But even when he closed his eyes, he didn’t picture his Savior, but the pale naked body of the woman.

On Sunday, there was more church. Hal noticed that his youngest son had seemed subdued the last couple of days, and announced after service that he was taking the family to the coffee shop at Holiday Bowl for a late breakfast. Jessie was surprised but thankful to have a break from cooking for four ravenous males. She worked as a nurse three nights a week and was exhausted.

It wasn’t Doris who served them today, but a younger woman with long black hair tied back in a ponytail. Everyone in the Montgomery party ordered grits and bacon with their eggs, except for Eric. No, he went for his rice and Portuguese sausage. Nobody teased him that morning because they were too hungry to care.

Heading to the restroom before his family left the bowling alley’s coffee shop, Eric saw the woman at a table in the back. He thought that it was perhaps Satan playing tricks on him. But the woman in the video... he recognized her drawn face with a wide mouth that tended to lean right when she spoke. Eric stopped dead in his tracks on the carpet and someone behind him almost crashed into him. “Boy, watch it,” said an old Black man.

Eric kept walking but snuck a look before he turned for the restroom. He was shocked. Her companion was the Asian man — the clean-cut one that looked like a cop.

As he took a piss at the urinal, he thought to himself, What is she doing with him? Is she in some kind of trouble?

He washed his hands with a puff of soap as his mother taught him, and there he decided. He would do what he could to help the woman.

He returned to his parents, who had already left the table to pay the bill at the cash register. “I’ll walk home,” he told them. His older brothers were off to meet up with friends.

“Suit yourself,” his father said.

The man got into a shiny Buick, while the woman took to the sidewalk, walking south.

This was meant to be, Eric thought, and slowed his usual pace to trail the woman. About three blocks down, she entered a mall and walked into a women’s clothing store. Eric noticed that she was wearing a name tag and realized that she worked there.

He lingered at a rack in the corner. He couldn’t even pretend that he was interested in any of the clothing, which was bright and oversized, nothing his own mother would wear. The Japanese woman, carrying a bunch of jackets on hangers in the loop of her fingers, was now one rack away from him. There were no other customers in the store.

“Kon-nichi-wa.” He bowed slightly in front of her.

The woman, whose name tag identified her as Kanako, narrowed her eyes. “Stop following me.”

“You speak English.” He was amazed.

“Fuck you.”