Creative Writing from
Fairleigh Dickinson University

Inventing Angel

Chineesa Gates

We've been going to my brother's cabin in Bigger Falls since '87. He's about to get married.
     "No way, Borris! Married?" I said.
     "Shit yeah, Beck. When you see this broad you'll get it."
     I did. It was an 8 by 10 of them in matching bark-colored overalls. Borris's stiff beard hung low like a Nazarene. His cheek nestled in the yellow of this woman's hair cascading over the jumper-snaps, flattening her breasts. I glided my thumb across that spot. In the back was a bayou sunken between fat trees and a heavy sun. They looked happy holding fishing rods and buckets of eel-sized buffalo like medals.
     Susan and I used to take pictures like that. The kind where you don't have to say "cheese" cause you're already smiling. That was before the flood. That's what I call it. The flood of kids and money and shit and stocks and property and shit. My Pop used to say 'more money more problems; keep it simple.' That's why we lived so poor. But I wanted lobster and baklava for dinner. So I got an all American beauty who believed in me and began inventing. First it was vibrating pillows. I sold seven. All seven were returned. Then it was body heat adjusting comforters, that flopped. Next was the big one, alpha-hydroxy-skin rejuvenating sheets. That check bought the house, the private schools, the Saab the Audi. That check bought the pain. Frivolous spending, pottery lessons, Sartre, yoga, and salsa made simple. I haven't fucked my wife in four months. She asks me questions sometimes; I don't know if I'm supposed to answer.
     "Honey, what happened to us," she'll twist her manicured face into some lonely-wife-pity knock-off.
     "They did," I look down at the twins wiping their noses with their shirtsleeves.
     "Kids, mom has tissue in her bag, just ask."
     "And that happened," I eyed the four foot salsa platform in the living room.
     "Reinventing myself is essential to my happiness," she squeezed a book by her chest titled The New Wisdom. Some guy was on the front making a diamond with his fingers.
     "Bullshit," I snorted.
     "What?"
     I raised my voice over the banging of the workers. Sue wanted a salsa platform in the kitchen so Marisol could show her some steps while she cooked.
     "Bullshit!" I re-snorted.
     "Fuck you, Becker" I read her lips.
     "Yeah, try four months ago."
     "What?" Sue pretzeled her arms, pouting.
     "Nothing, get the bags." Her blue eyes turned black. The ones that used to awe at me bedazzled like I was some Messiah she prayed for since she believed in the tooth fairy, the same eyes that sucked me into a whirlwind of sweaty nights and afternoon picnics in the park. It used to be endearing how she could fuck up peanut butter and jelly. No more.
     "Bailey, Betty, go say bye to Marisol, I think she has a treat for you."
     "Okay mom," they harmonized. So obedient. So pure. Did they know we were dysfunctional? Sue skipped in the kitchen after them; her new inherited ten pounds lugged below her ass. She ran her nails across her scalp. I think she cut her hair to spite me, but at least she didn't dye it brown.
     "Can we leave?" I blew the horn. Everybody ran out.
     Marisol waved, "Will see you later Mr. Park."
     I moved my glasses down my nose, checked myself in the rearview mirror. My temples had gotten grayer since last month.
     "Becker, open the door," Sue banged on the window. I adjusted my glasses, spit on my mustache. "Becker, godddamit."
     "Shut up!" I yanked the handle. "Seatbelts guys," the kids hopped in.
     "Jesus, Becker. Whenever you're ready, ya know."
     "Yeah are you coming, or are you standing there for the weekend?"
     Sue gave up, slid in, pulled down the mirror and sucked the lipstick off her teeth. Too much perfume. Everybody sniffled.
     "I've got Kleenex in my bag, guys, just ask." The kids smacked on cookies. Sue puckered her lips and shook the remains of her hair at the reflection.
     "Borris is going to be so surprised. I always said short cuts are for old ladies. Now look." The sun struck my eyes and I squinted. For a moment she looked like the girl I used to love, the girl who used to hang on my arm in that proud "this is my man" way. Then the shade came in, pissing on my vision. Her cheeks hung low and tired, her teeth were tinted decaf. She pressed the play button: Livin' La vida loca. "See," she shook her hair for me. Next I'd try inventing a new wife.
     "Yeah, I see." If I do eighty we'll get there in an hour.
     It was nighttime. The cabin had the same Robert Frost appeal since before. The smell of warm gravel and bird-pecked lumber made my stomach growl. The kids were sleep; Sue was snoring. I pressed the brakes extra hard to make her head bob.
     "Oh," she breathed. "Already."
     A figure sauntered toward the headlights. The hips moved slowly and the waist bended in unison.
     "Jackpot" I muttered.
     "Yeah it is hot," Sue returned.
     "Huh?"
     "Marisol packed t-shirts just in case."
     I opened the door and stretched, my knees wobbled some. The flies swirled around my head. "Damnit, these things," I growled. Sue got out sucked in her gut and pulled her jeans over the spillover. The flies met her perfume. The woman came closer.
     "I'm Angel," the vision pointed herself at me.
     Sue invaded, swatting. "Yes, we spoke on the phone, hi." She smiled so hard her eyes turned to slits.
     "Sue, right?"
     "You got it," Sue clapped into the air, "Got 'em!"
     "And you must be the infamous big brother," Angel turned.
     "So you've heard the stories." I extended my hand. "Don't believe them." Angel giggled like a little girl drawing her chin to her chest like my watery charm was still potent.
     "Got 'em!" Sue clapped on.
     "Everyone calls me 'Beck'." Sue raised her eyebrows like she'd forgotten that detail. Angel took a peak into the van. My eyes followed her rear.
     "Knocked out, huh?"
     "You sure are," I muttered.
     "They sure are" Sue chimed. "Uh.. where's Borris...?"
     "Oh yes, he went to the store to get us some cabernet. I've got a pot roast ready."
     "Sounds good," my stomach growled. I forgot to tighten my abs; the sweater's covering me. I'm good.
     "Sure does," Sue chimed.
     Angel grinned truing her lips to straight pink lines. "Follow me." I did. Sue grabbed the kids.
     The inside was a different world. It's been a while though. No more carpet. Tiles instead. Lots of open space. New colors: orange and blue.
     "What's that thing?" I pointed to a rubber rectangle pad with a black and white eyeball on it.
     "A yoga mat," Sue answered.
     A yoga moat. A big fern by the window. Beige pottery leaning over like it was stretching. No more flowered wallpaper. Instead, abstract hang-ups of splats and shapes, mostly diamonds. A salsa platform, bigger than ours.
     "That's the size I want," Sue pointed at the spiffy-wooden flat.
     I nodded. In so many ways she was like a child. I'll never forget the time she raised her hand to start speaking the first time she had dinner with my folks. And how she sipped the champagne through a straw and blew bubbles.
     New furniture too-- leather, Italian, mahogany tables, crystal vases stuffed with dried up flowers. Big candles like naked statues, used, set on sterling silver stands. On the dining room table were little marble balls in a glass platter.
     "Look, jawbreakers in that platter over there. Want one?" Sue asked.
     She had danced her brain away. "Naw, but you go ahead." The possibilities made me chuckle.
     " Well, I'm not getting one if you don't," she finished. Shit, that was my chance. Oh well.
     "So what do you think?" Angel asked.
     Sue gave her a thumbs up. "Uhh.. wow," I answered. Walter Bauman, maybe. Definitely money. What the hell was all this shit? Borris was due in soon; I'd ask him.
     Angel brought out the pot roast set it on the table. Sue sucked on her teeth. I got my first look at the rock, more questions for Borris. It sat on Angel's finger like a fist of light. Sue sucked her teeth again. The steam rose, met Angel's face, blushed her cheeks; her eyes fluttered. I got a good look. She had skin like porcelain; so smooth if you touched it your fingers would slip. Eyes blue like a sky after it rains. Hair like my daughter draws with crayons-thick wavy lines of yellow down to her waist. Her sweater hugged her bones nicely. I saw the outline of the squares in her waist. She was too perfect almost not real, like a hologram, or a poster with a pulse.
     "Hungry, Beck?" Angel questioned.
     "Naw."
     "You look different then your pictures," Angel commented.
     "It's the beard," Sue answered. "He went from corporate yuppie to mountain man." They giggled like high school girls in a locker room.
     I'd always hated facial hair, thought that it was for union workers. Sue loved my clean-shaven look. She said that's what attracted her to me. I was the only guy in the seventy's who didn't look like Moses. Now I figured if Sue wanted to chop off her hair, I'd grow it back for her.
     "Well I," Sue beamed, "flew to New York and got a cut at Sebastian." Sue cupped her hands over her head like a halo. "Very expensive, but worth it." She had lipstick on her teeth.
     Angel returned the gesture. "Ahhh. I knew it was professional." She's good I thought, too good for Borris. "Let's not wait," Angel fell into her cushioned wooden throne. "Sit." A key fumbled, the door opened. A fly got in. Angel darted from the table. "Borris, honey." If I saw him on the street I wouldn't have known him. "We've been waiting for you."
     No beard, no rubber galoshes, no flannel. Instead a suit with five buttons, navy blue, spit-shined shoes, jet-black. His hair was short, slick, dyed blonde. Sue's eyes bugged out her head and her mouth hung open.
     "Fix your face, before you swallow a fly," I got up from the table. Couldn't feel my legs. "Borris, Jesus!"
     We greeted each other, hugged, patted each other's backs. He used to hit me so hard I could feel the pound fuck up my heartbeat. Now I hardly felt
     anything.
     "Borris, are you in there? Where's my brother, man?"
     "I'm right here man, it's me. New look, though."
     "I see," I returned.
     "And so do I," Sue lurched at his shoulders.
     "Sue," Borris squeezed her frame, wrinkled his forehead. There was more of her this time. "The twins?"
     "Upstairs, sleeping."
     "Your hair is..."
     "I know," Sue spun around with a Latin flare and began to salsa. Borris shook his head smiling.
     "Told ya," Sue winked at me grabbed Angel's arm and they salsa-d into the dining room counting, "One, two, one, two, three."
     "They're awful chummy," I commented.
     "You know chicks, man," Borris sniffed. "They're like incorporated worldwide, or something."
      "So what man did you just come from church?" I asked. Borris laughed heartily, smacked his knee, stomped his foot. Okay, he's still in there, I thought.
     "She loves it, man. Anything for the lady, you know?"
     I didn't.
     "Look at this place, man," I said. "It's a fuckin' New York loft. Do you know what this shit means?" I pointed to a painting of a green man holding a black ball with red droplets splashing from his eyes onto the white floor.
     "It's her thing man; she's an art buyer. She gets this shit wholesale or something. I think it looks good, eclectic."
     I had no idea what that meant.
     "Boys," Sue called. "Pot roast."
     "The wine?" Angel raised her brows to Borris.
     "Ahhh, geeze, hun. I forgot."
     Angel shot him an icy glare of disapproval. The two veins above her collarbone stuck out like she inhaled too hard. She cleared her throat. Borris swallowed. What had she done to my brother?
     "I'll, uh, be right back," Borris dashed out the house, a fly got in.
     Sue clapped in the air, "Got 'em."
     Dinner tasted hired, like chefs smoked up the kitchen before we got there. Fatigue settled in.
      "Hope you like the bedroom; I redecorated, your sheets are on the bed too. I love them by the way." Angel rubbed her shoulders up and down like she was putting on invisible lotion.
     New bed, canopy style, more paintings. A blue couch an orange chair, another candle, used. She knocked down two walls. More space. "There's a bathroom now too," Angel pointed. Sue skipped in, hiked her tail on the bed and slid off. "Use the step," she belted... "It's easier," she breathed loud enough for only me to hear. I felt something on my neck, a fly, her fingernail maybe. I turned around, no one.
     "Come try it out," Sue rolled around on the orange comforter giggling.
     "Let me check on the kids," I said. I peeked in their room, still sleep.
     Down the hall was a voice, aggravated. I moved in to see, walking toe-heel so the floor won't crack. Angel waved her hands around making her breasts turn circles in her blue nightshirt. It had a number 6 on it, came down to her knees. Something about the wine, and about screwing up again. Borris lowered his head. She snatched his chin, lifted it, tightened her lips, and then let him go. He stood there still, looking at the ceiling. She walked by him, grazed his shoulders, the muscles in her slim calves tightening and tightening again. He followed her to the vanity. I moved with them. He was out of sight; I just saw her profile, nodding. Something about it not happening again, she continued nodding. His head came into view. He reached under her hair kissed her, then disappeared below her waist. She swung her locks over her shoulder, licked her tongue across her lips and looked over at me like she new I was there. My legs locked. She smirked, raised her thighs, allowing me an uncensored view and continued--writhing her body, riding his face, shaking her mane. In one motion he got up swooped her into his arms and spun toward the bed. She waved goodbye with her toes. I gasped, resumed breathing then returned to my room, sweaty.
     "What took you so long?" Sue asked.
     "What?"
     "You were gone for a while."
     "I got some water, "I answered.
     "Did you check on them?"
     "Who?"
     "The kids."
     "Yeah, that's what I said."
     "But you said you got some water."
     "So, what?" I returned.
     "So what, what?" she said.
     "So what nothing."
     "What's your problem?"
     "You and your twenty questions," I answered.
     "You should aim for a peaceful mindset before you sleep," she pulled back the covers.
     "...And your twisted philosophies," I finished.
     "I'm just trying to help you, Beck."
     "Don't call me that."
     "Call you what?"
     "Beck" I answered. She sucked her teeth. "Don't call me anything."
     The lights went out.
     The daylight blasted through the orange drapery turning the walls into a rainbow. I opened one eye. "What in the hell?" I shook my head. The room looked like Oz or something--speckled dances of spectrum color spiraling in the wind, in my face. In skips Dorothy, singing.
      "She will wear you out, livin'la vida loca." She dropped her towel. I counted the dimples in her butt. Forty. The rolls on her side-- one, two and a half. She held her hands up in the air and shimmied around. "One, two, one two three. One, two, one two three." She piveted around on the balls of her feet, losing balance. "Shit!" She stepped on her left foot. She tried to hop her tail on the bed, but she slid off the sheets and hit the floor. Bang! "Ah, damnit," she huffed. I decided to wake up.
     "Shit, Sue could you be more considerate?"
     "I just fell, Beck. My apologies for waking you up."
     "Coffee?" I groan.
     "Yeah, I'm okay," she answered.
     "I didn't ask."
     "How can you wake up being an asshole?" She frowned.
     "It's called marriage, honey." I stepped down off the bed, grabbed my nuts, headed to the can. "Happily ever after." The door slammed behind me.
     She started singing again. "Lips are cherry red skin's the color of mocha. Da da da da da living la vida loca. Da da da..." I came out and the music stopped.
     
     "Where are you going?" she asked.
     "Coffee." I stepped outside and remembered. The number 6 shirt, her legs. "Shit." Sue came up behind me.
     "I know they're everywhere. I've been killing them all morning."
     "Who?" I scrunched my face.
     "Don't move. He's on you." Sue raised her palm to my face. Whack! "Got 'em!" She rejoiced jumping up and down, brushing the dead body off her hands.
     "What the fuck is this shit? You just hit me."
     "What, he was about to bite you."
     "It's a goddamn fly Sue, relax."
     "No you relax." I'm sick of..."
     "Mommy," Betty had her head poked out the door. Why'd you hit daddy?"
     "Cause she's a goddamn lunatic," I headed back to the room for my sneakers.
     "Mommy didn't hit Daddy I was killing the fly. Let's go back in your room."
     I stormed toward the stairs, slipped and grabbed for the banister. My legs flew up in the air and I landed on my back. "Fuck!"
     Borris opened his bedroom door, shirtless, he's lost weight. "What's all the noise about?"
     "Good morning, Borris," Sue led Betty back to bed.
     "Beck, man, what's going on?" He jogged after me.
     "Coffee!" I screamed.
     The streets were naked, except for one jogger. It's a Saturday. Mountain-folk live easy. I could hear the birds flapping their wings. The wind gusts shot through my nose--I coughed, rolled up the window. The air was lighter, fresher than the city. I could take deep breaths hold them in, let them out, and feel good. It was a great day for inventing. Maybe a voice-activated fly swatter, or a remote control to put your life on pause. The diner was closed. "Great." I made a U-turn, and headed back to the cabin.
     The door was open. Angel eased down the stairs in the number six. Legs. She sewed her eyes on mine. My mouth got dry.
     "We were worried about you. The stores don't open 'till nine." She stopped ten inches from my face. "It's only 7:40 now."
     "Oh...I wa.. wasn't aware."
     Her fingertips touched my chest. "Guess you'll just have to settle for me. I mean," she paused, "mine. It's instant though." She pressed her breasts into my shirt. Her nipples felt like erasers, erasing me. I rocked back on my heels, losing my balance.
     "Uhh, uh..."
     "Is he here yet?" Borris called.
     "Yeah, he's coming up the driveway now." She shoed me out the door with her hands like I was a stray cat, "Go. Go," she whispered.
     "What the hell?" I stood outside then she opened the door pulled me in and slammed it shut.
     "Wha..," I lost my breath.
     "Becker, we were worried about you." Borris came thumping down. Sue followed then the twins.
     "Uh..Everything's closed," I recovered quickly.
     "Yeah, man there's no 24 hour nothin' around here."
     Angel shot him a twisted look. Sue moved pass me holding the twins by her side. "I'll make us all some breakfast."
     "I'll go shower," I walked passed my brother leaning on the banister, his elbow slipped off.
     "Thought we could go see what's bitin' after breakfast."
     The thought was refreshing. "Sure thing," I said.
     "Borris!" Angel growled. I stopped at the top of the stairs, out of sight. "It's biting, not bitin'. It's no 24 hours anything , not nothin'. Can you get it right just once?" She swung her hair around wildly.
     "Sorry, I..."
     "Forget it, Borris." Angel waved her hand and walked away. My brother hung his head, cursed himself and followed her. It hurt to see my brother so weak.
     But that's how women do it-- snake their way in, separate your laundry, set up your speed dial, fuck you into a blinding frenzy till your standing in front of a crowd of her friends signing your life away. It's all a conspiracy. Pop said, 'Women are like alsheimers. Once you get 'em, forget 'em?' I'd make Borris realize the truth about it before he was 15 years and two kids deep, choking.
     They went shopping.
     Borris screamed upstairs, "Ready?"
     "Yeah." Fishing was serious business for Borris. I hurried.
     "You look good," he said.
     "I haven't worn this thing in years." It fit a little tighter than before.
     "Well then it's about time," Borris tugged on the straps of his rubber jumpsuit and slapped me on my back. It was a good hit.
     I smiled at him, "Let's catch some fish."
     The day was mild and time ticked slowly. The sounds of nature called, "crackle, swish." The air smelled of burnt leaves and old water. We sat staring at the scenery, at each other. Most men are comfortable in silence, a few aren't.
     "Married, huh?" I forced.
     "Yeah, in June." He casted his line. "It's gonna be big."
     "So you set a date?" I baited.
     "Yeah, she did. This morning after breakfast. The sixth of June."
     "That's the day it happened to me."
     "Shit!" He exclaimed. "Sure is. Guess that's a good luck sign, huh?"
     I wanted to tell him then... that it was doomed. That he should get out now and run as fast as he could till the skin wore off his feet. I'd run with him.
     "Borris... I"
     He interrupted. "I know what you're thinkin', man. She's not pregnant or nothin'. I wanna marry her."
     "But do you really know this chick, man? I talk to you one month and there's no mention of her. Then three months later you're telling me I'm the best man. It's a little sudden."
     "That's how it happens sometimes. Like whap, heaven hits ya' with something so perfect and you gotta grab it." He'd been brainwashed. "Who would actually think I'd land a chick like that, right?"
     "Uhh...well I..."
     "This is how it happened..." He cleared his throught. "I stopped to get a pack of Camels."
     "Camels," I snapped. I haven't seen you..."
     "Smoke," he finished. I quit man. She took me to this hypnotist. Dr. Ito. And poof, ain't touched 'em since." I knew voodoo was involved. "Anyway, the gas station."
     "Yeah."
     "She was lost, and she didn't know how to use the self-serve pump. So I pumped her gas, got her a map. We talked, got coffee. And..."
     "Love," I shrugged.
     "Yeah, man. Just like that. Turns out her dad owns a summer cabin three miles north of me in the High Hills section."
     "High Hills. That's money!"
     "Her dad's some Chicago big wig. He helped remodel the place."
     "So what about the check I sent after the patent went through?" I rushed.
     "Paris," he answered.
     "Paris? The check? You..."
     "I know man, it was great. I call it an investment. Love makes you do things like that--wake up in the middle of the night and say let's go to Paris."
     I was fuming. "What's wrong, man?"
     "That money was for the cabin, for you!" I shook my head, held my temples.
     "It's okay, her dad bought the cabin from me."
     "Bought it!" The boat started rocking. "Borris, you love that cabin. You were so afraid you were gonna lose it. Then you go give it away."
     "No, Beck. I sold it. I didn't give shit to nobody."
     "So where are you supposed to live now?"
     "Her dad's got a place for us in the city. All set up." I couldn't talk. All I could do was fill my cheeks with air and blow.
     " Look at me, Beck. I'm 100%. Since Angel I've lost twenty pounds, I can run 5 miles without stopping, and I can almost do a bridge."
     "A what?" I frowned.
     "Yoga, nevermind."
     "So, I guess she got you the dye job too, huh"?
     "Yeah, Emmanuel Frui. Chicago."
     Silence. The space between us was thick, long. Borris sat postured, like he was posing for a photograph.
     "Ommmmmm. Ommmmmm," Borris hummed with his eyes closed.
     "What are you saying?"
     "I'm chanting," he returned. "The Buddists do it in Tibet for like 14 hours straight. It's a soul cleansing ritual. Try it."
     "No thanks I'm fishing." I looked at him up and down crouched with his legs folded looking ridiculous. I hoped he'd jump out of character and scream 'gotcha'. Then Sue and Angel would come from behind the trees grabbing their guts in laughter. The twins would squeal and point, 'he fell for it.' I'd smack my forehead for being so gullible. I waited till it got dark. No fish.
     "We're home," I called.
     "Daddy!" Bailey crashed into my knee. "Mommy is bal-healid!"
     "Okay big guy," I moved passed him. "Where's your sister?"
     "Borris," Angel rang from upstairs, "come here." The smell of lobster and Baklava invited me to the kitchen. A platter sat on the table, grand. Next to it was a book "Salsa Made Simple." Sue appeared in front of me with a brunette buzz-cut. She grabbed my fingers and spun herself around.
     "You like?"
     "Told ya she was bal-healid, Daddy," Bailey called.
     "I hate it, Sue. What the hell are you doing to yourself?" Tears were coming. Angel angulated toward us.
     "Great, huh? She searched my stone face. "It's absolutely you, Sue, fabulous!" Angel grabbed Sue's shoulders and turned her back to me flinging her hair about petting Sue's bald chestnut head.
     " So what's all the melodrama for? You must know you look like one of those freaky Village People. It's horrible. Why even ask me?"
     "Beck, reinventing thyself is essential to thy happiness," Angel nodded.
     "Yeah, whatever."
     Borris came downstairs. "Perfect timing, bro. Let's eat."
     The lobster put me to sleep. I awoke at 3:47 am, groggy. I felt around, no Sue. The air was eery and uncomfortable. My bedroom door was open enough for a body to slip out. I heard hushed voices in the hallway, low then high taking turns, then pausing in silence. I tiptoed toe heel so the floors wouldn't crack and peeked one eye into space. My brother and my wife. His arms were around her, touching her face, carressing her head. Something about holding on, and the plan and everything working out. She shivered he held her harder. My body backed away. I thought I would vomit in disgust. My wife and my beloved brother, betrayal. How long had this been going on? Fucking my wife, fucking my life. My face was tight and my chest heaved, murdered. I'm a good husband and a good brother. I'd never cheat on my wife. And Angel. He just finished telling me how much he wanted her. How she made his cup spill over into some pool where lovers swim. What shit! Those liars! I'd tell Angel everything--the whispering, the hallway, the deceit. Then we'd confront them and I could divorce them both, and take my fortune with me. I limped back to bed. Sue crept into the room and spooned next to me. Her hands were freezing. I froze.
     The next day it rained. Water came down like wet comforters, comforting the earth. My mind was sick with the truth of last night. Sue was already up looking out the window, no singing this morning. I moved my feet around on the sheets, some dead skin sloughed off. My stomach got queasy. A fly swirled around. I headed out the bedroom. "Where are you going?" I kept walking. "Hey, did ya' hear me? Where are you going?"
     "Ginsing," I answer.
     "I wasn't singing."
     "No, Ginsing. Ginsing tea."
     "Oh." She turned her face back to the window.
     I peeked down the hall to see if I heard Angel. No one. I couldn't wait to clue her into the plot of manipulation. She'd be appauled, infuriated. I stepped downstairs and heard Angel singing the kitchen, "Living la vida loca. She will wear you out, Dada dada da da da."
     "Angel," I ran toward the music, she turned around on one foot. My socks slid on the tiles. "Brown" I exclaimed. Her hair was the color of old timber wood. The kind carpenters use to build fences. "Your hair...brown."
     "Sue inspired me so I figured, I'd go for it."
     My head got hot and cloudy and things began to spin. The words wouldn't come. "Borris is..."
     "He went to the store to buy some orange juice," she arched her back and the number six on her chest lifted an inch.
     "No," I gasped.
     "Yes," she retorted moving closer to me.
     "Wait," my breathing labored.
     "Sit down, Beck before you pass out." I obeyed her legs uncrossed before me making me pant harder.
     "Try some Yoga breathing. In two, three, four. Out two, three, four." All I could do was obey.
     I inhaled, and blew out the air. Inhaled again, "Borris and Sue are having and affair," I exhaled. Her face looked puzzled, I prepared my shoulder. "I know it's shocking, but it's not the end of..."
     "Ha ha ha ha ha," she held her stomach; her shoulders bounced. "No way!" The comedy continued.
      I scrunched my face, puzzled. "It's true last night I... I saw"
     Now her eyes were tearing, she was grabbing her gut, pointing at me.
      "What's so funny? This is serious! My wife and my brother, your fiancé.
     Don't you get it? They're fucking each other!"
     The laughter stopped. She lifted the hair up off her neck. "So when's it gonna be our turn, hmm?"
     She opened her legs, hairless in the middle.
     My heart started to quicken. The room got hot.
     "Beck... Beck", she sang in a sultry alto.
     She engaged me, slowly. Hooked her leg around my back and moved in a figure eight. Her breath was warm on my beard, then her tongue.
     She grabbed at me, groped, moaned.
     Her nipples stuck out like darts. She arched her back till her head hit the floor. Yoga. My t-shirt stuck to the sweat on my back. I lifted her weight onto the counter and finished it.
     "Becker," Sue called from upstairs.
     "I gotta I gotta go." I pealed myself off of her skin.
     "Sure, run along now," she grinned. I felt conquered, done.
     "Becker," Sue repeated.
     I ran up the stairs and met her face. "Beck, I mean Becker, we need to talk." A confession. This was even better. "I... I'm... I'm..."
      "You sure are, goddamnit! You sure as hell are and I know all about it. The lies and the bigger lies...." I shut my eyes extra tight to squeeze out all the anger. "I know it all!"
     Her cheeks gyrated ,red. "Becker, how did you? When did...? Oh God! I can't... Please!" She stomped around in circles then sank to the floor and wailed out loud.
     I felt like I was watching a show called "Falling Apart." For a moment I felt sorry for her, the anguish, the embarrassment. I wanted to invent a pill to make it all better, but there already was one, alimony.
     Angel trotted up the stairs, "Guys what's...?" She looked at Sue's swollen face and the blob of water she squatted in. "Beck, you didn't tell her... did you? Did you?" Her hands trembled. I opened my mouth; my voice was paralyzed. "Sue, Sue it's not true," she crouched in the puddle. "That's not how it happened. Listen. He's the one who..." Then everything slowed down. Angel kept talking but I couldn't hear the words. Sue's expression changed from shame to not so. If only I could press rewind, do it over again, the marriage the patent. If only I could get a second chance.
     "Orange juice!" Borris slammed the front door. I escaped, skidded down the stairs, grabbed the banister, and snaked down on my back.
     "I got it!" I exclaimed. "Rubber hand grips for banisters!" Genius.