The young men who lived on East St were all poor. They lived
with their girlfriends and kids in small rooms and did their best to keep up
with rent. The poorness of the people who lived on East St meant that they
could be pretty rough and that if you lived on East St you were expected to be
a little rough from time to time. Nobody lived there because they wanted to. But
sometimes the clouds parted above the plant and the rows of homes, and the
light came out striking the buildings and lawns. It was a place where dogs
roamed and women gathered in small groups and talked while their kids waddled
unattended on the sidewalks. Outsiders rarely came through. Once someone
watched a man in a sport jacket covered in mud walk through the neighborhood
carrying a record player.
When
the mornings rolled around, all the men from the old brick buildings gathered
on the curb for the bus. They rode to the plant in silence. Two of the men, Tom
and Richard, loved the same woman. Bruce and Darren and Jacob and the rest of
us knew everything.
There
were clear sides. Tom seemed to think he was above us, but I didn't know if he
really felt like he was above us or if he just seemed like that. I stood with him
on the corner every morning and it was fine, but when Richard found out Tom was
sleeping with Juliet, it wasn't so okay to stand with Tom in the morning and I
stood over by Richard and everyone else.
Everyone
knew what was going to happen. The mornings rolled around, the sun came up, we
got on the bus, went to work, then came home tired and unhappy with how tired
we were, how bad and expensive the food was, how there was nothing good on TV,
how old and tired our women had become. In the morning we went to work like it
was nothing. We got on the bus, the sun came out from behind the buildings
striking as we turned into it and it was the same thing until one morning Tom
wasn't at the bus stop. I looked over at Darren, then at Bruce, and immediately
Bruce knew what I was thinking and he looked away. I saw Richard in the
breakroom later that day. He was eating a sandwich and drinking a coke. It was
late when I fell asleep that night.
I
was thinking of Juliet. I hadn't really ever thought of her but now I couldn't
seem to stop. She was egging me on, trying to drive me insane. Any minute the
door would bust open and she’d come in and tell me she loved me. Or she’d tell
me she had always loved me. Or there was nothing in the world but this love.
And she’d just sit in a chair like she was posing, flipping through a magazine
or something. I felt a great fear in my soul. It hurt, the fear was so bad. I'd
never been this afraid in my entire life. I'd never thought I had a soul
before. But that's what hurt. I knew that my soul was what hurt. I began to
picture Richard and Tom, the look of disbelief on both of their faces, and Juliet,
posing, her face disappearing behind a magazine, and my hands, outstretched
before me, like they'd been severed, trying to reach her, floating toward her
but only finding Richard. I pictured Richard as an opening. I was moving toward
Richard's twisted face as he prepared his mouth, like it were a great banquet
table. And it was waiting for me like a word. And I had to lean my head in to
hear it. Everything got quiet. He smiled. But then he laughed, and I had the
uneasy feeling I was about to laugh. But it was Juliet laughing. My innocence
was pretense, for I had always loved only myself.
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