July 31, 2008
Chelsea, New York City
“If you had to confess to one crime you’ve already committed,” Geno said, reading from The Book of If. “What would you confess to?”
“Shoplifting,” Tai said.
He looked up from the pages. “Really?”
She looked up from her laptop. “Hasn’t everyone?”
“Not me.”
She turned her head sideways, fixing him with one eye. “Never? Not one piece of bubble gum ever?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Well then, what’s your confessed crime?”
“Forgery?”
Her brows arched high. “Like checks?”
“Like taking my brother’s test for him.”
“You’re a pathetic criminal,” she said, shaking her head. “Next question.”
“If you were to be any famous person’s personal masseuse, whose would you like to be?”
“Yours,” she said.
“I’m not famous.”
“Yet.”
Geno closed the book and got up from his desk. He slung a leg over Tai’s chair and wiggled behind her, sliding arms around her waist.
“I can’t work with this,” she said, rubbing his head. She was editing the pictures that would be exhibited at the Lark Gallery next month, with proceeds going to Exodus Project’s new crisis hotline. EP residents would be displaying their artwork as well, but the main focus would be Tai’s collection, a photo essay inspired by Geno’s story.
His chin on her shoulder, he looked at the images he helped create.
A hand cuffed to an iron bed frame. It was his own hand and a makeup artist added the blood and wrist wounds. A Milky Way galaxy was superimposed over the flat surface of the cuff. It was the picture Geno liked looking at the least, yet the one he was most proud of, because he’d gotten through the shoot without a Xanax. It helped Stef was with him the whole time, holding onto his other hand, keeping him grounded in the present.
Next came a series of black-and-white shots. Close-ups of his stoma scar, showing the progression of a new tattoo based on Geno’s mandala self-portrait. First the scar alone. Then the star of David inked dead center, enclosed in a ring. His parents’ names lettered around. The addition of more and more circles and symbols, spreading over Geno’s abdomen and side. The tattoo was about ten inches across now. Maybe he’d add onto it, maybe he’d stop here. He hadn’t decided yet.
The next picture was a small farmhouse in a wooded glade. It belonged to friends of Tai’s parents and they were more than happy to let it be used. In the shot, Geno stood in the open doorway, a hand on either side of the frame. Totally silhouetted and light spilling all around his body. The house was white in real life, but Tai easily made it red on the computer.
An image of Geno’s hands cradling two baby chicks in a nest of blue sea glass. (Tai spent three hours editing out the poop.)
A shot of Geno from behind, the viewer looking over his shoulder as he stared at Anthony’s abandoned house in Heading.
A photo of him sitting before a mirror, forehead to forehead with himself, overlaid with stars. It was the only picture in the series that showed his face.
One of Tai’s girlfriends posed as the woman banging on the barrier of heaven. Her hair wild, her face and body contorted in a scream of helpless rage. It involved the most editing to create the otherworldly boundary. Tai still wasn’t happy with it but Geno never tired of looking at it.
“Not comfy,” Tai said, turning both legs to the side and scooching up into Geno’s lap. She slid arms around his shoulders and hugged him, exhaling on his neck. His hands pressed into her skin, felt the give of her flesh and muscle.
He’d graduated from Exodus Project on July 18th, exactly fifty-four weeks after he pulled up to the curb outside Anthony Fox’s house. He was still living at the facility while deciding what his next move would be. Rory Finch had shown him the attic floor of her townhouse on West 20th Street. It was filled with junk which could be moved. The ceilings were low and the bathroom was tiny. It wasn’t a palace, but Geno was welcome to think it over.
He’d called Camberley Jones and they went for coffee. She sent him links to back episodes of Moments in Time and he listened to her tell other people’s stories. He liked her voice. He admired her work. He trusted her compassion. He felt he could take the worn, dirty backpack holding his ordeal and put it in her hands.
Camberley was coming to the Lark Gallery to see the exhibit. Geno’s stomach got all warm and nervous thinking of everyone who would be there. His fellow war mates from EP. The art room staff. Stav, Stef and Jav. Micah. Lilia and Rory. Vern and Zoe. Chris Mudry said he wouldn’t miss it. Jason Dahl said he’d move the Earth to come but couldn’t promise. Seth said he’d be there. Ben was coming, too. Ed Shaughnessey RSVPd yes. So did Captain Hook and Detective Mackin.
The tribe.
Geno ran his mouth along Tai’s smooth hair. Their relationship was slowly unfolding like a love note. He still lived at EP, where there wasn’t much privacy for them. She lived at home in Brooklyn, where there was no privacy whatsoever. But they hadn’t yet reached a point where they wanted to close themselves behind doors anyway. They’d bared their souls, but not shown much skin. Not yet. Right now, they were telling an important story.
His hand reached up to touch the star of David on his gold chain. Beside it hung a new pendant, the Kabbalah Flower of Life, made up of dozens of overlapping circles. Stef gave it to him as a graduation present.
At the reception after the ceremony, Stef was a bit of a wreck. Geno had never seen him so vulnerable and reticent, poised on the edge of enormous emotion. He kept slipping away from the crowd, backing into a corner to be next to Jav for a few minutes. He stood still, chest expanding and contracting in deep breaths. Like he was taking hits off an oxygen tank. He found his smile, squared his shoulders and went back into the crush.
This matters to him, Geno thought. This work is his life. He doesn’t leave all of it outside his door, some of it always stays with him. It’s the most important thing in the world.
He glanced at Jav then, still in the corner, his eyes following Stef everywhere.
Well. Maybe the second most important thing.
“Think you guys will get married?” he asked Jav later that evening.
Jav laughed down at his beer and scratched his temple. He wore Stef’s winged ring on his index finger now. He had a new tattoo as well, a small goldfinch on his neck, up by his ear. Its wings spread in an arc of black, white and yellow. “Right now I’m deciding whether to give up the lease on my uptown apartment,” he said. “Move downtown for good.”
Geno bumped him with an elbow. “What’s stopping you?”
“Fear.”
“Of what?”
Jav’s shoulders rolled. “It’s scary when you hit it out of the park on your debut.”
“Can you be scared and do it anyway?”
“You are so Stef’s graduate.”
Geno smiled. “It’s not a bad thing to be.”
“No, it isn’t.” And at that moment, standing tall and gazing across the crowded art room at Stef, Jav looked like a king. The J of his name morphing to X. Both conqueror and conquered.
“Well, you already put him in ink,” Geno said, pointing to the bird on Jav’s neck. “Now put him in writing. It’s what you do.”
A loud beeping chortle broke Geno’s thoughts apart. The phone was ringing. Tai slid off his lap. He went back to his little desk and pulled on his headset.
“Empire Hotline. My name’s Gen.”
Silence.
“I’m listening,” Geno said. “I’m here.”
The sound of a long breath being drawn in.
Silence.
“Take your time,” Geno said. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll listen.”
Another rush of air, followed by an exhaled sound. “Hi.”
“Hey.”
A sniff. More shaking breaths. But no words.
“How you feeling right now?” Geno said softly.
“Like I want to die.”
“I know.”
“I hurt so much.”
“I know, man.”
“Do you?” The guy’s voice splintered.
“Yeah, I do. I was there and now I’m here. I know.”
“Oh my God…”
“It’s all right,” Geno said, his voice shaking a little.
Tai reached a hand to him. He reached back and their fingers clasped. Squeezed once. Let go.
“Jesus Christ,” the guy on the phone said. He was crying.
“It’s all right,” Geno said. “You think no one believes you, no one understands. But I swear, man. I do.”
More crying. Violent, wet sobs. Like knives thrown at a wall.
“Take your time,” Geno said. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m listening…”