Ozzie Fitch: Chapter 9
One day, sitting on the steps, coming down from a sizzle when Cindy stands there, leaning on the rusty fence like nothing important.
I blink her eyes back into her head. Looking at me with no red-shot eyes. No teeth. All good. Sizzle just a hiss in the back. Nothing bad.
“Hey,” she says, like nothing important. Me, I nod, because Ozzie’s polite. Wearing the girl’s jacket, like they swap. Must be serious, I think. Cindy, she just looks, and says, “Gotta favor to ask.”
“Binny’s up,” I point with my thumb over my head like I’m throwing the bouquet. That’s a thought. Imagine Cindy with a white dress, almost crack myself up. No punk white dress. She crack their heads. Burn the bouquet. Not like I’d marry her.
She moves then, shifting like the jacket hurts, like she’s not comfortable in her skin. “No, favor from you.”
Don’t believe it, first. Cindy never ask nothing from Old Oz. We not friends. Not enemies, natch, same circle and cordial, polite like. But not friends. Never rolled even once. I sit up and blink the sizzle away. “What?”
“Got a chant,” she says at last, hopping back and forth on her legs like antsy. Worried I’m going to say something wrong, maybe.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Wanna try it out.”
“So talk to Binny,” I lie back down. Sitting up was a mistake. Sizzle comes back hard.
Minute later? Second? I look up and she’s still there. Thinking, then, me. Wonder if she’s gone and talked to Binny already. Wonder if I’ve sizzled to sleep and didn’t notice. Time different, sometimes.
“Not for seven,” she says.
Now I’m up again, trying to think through the static. Mistake, yeah? Static is not for thinking, but I think I gotta think, yeah? Like I’m gonna do something wrong if I don’t think, when thinking is the wrong thing, yeah? But I’m thinking, and I say “Not for them?” while I jerk my head back upstairs.
“Yeah. You in?”
Now Old Oz’s not greedy. Got a lot, Old Oz has. Got Darla, got the chant, got a place to sleep in Darla’s apartment. Got sticks and tabs and don’t get hungry much. Don’t need more. Don’t chant for more. Got cautious like, asked “what for?”
“It’s special,” she says. Her lips twist like she’s thinking, scrutinizing me, looking for the answer I’m not giving. I up and down her, see her spiky hair, her face and her eyes. All soft and square but black lines and silver chain. Like she hurts. Brass like. Fight? Not fight? Can’t tell.
Then I get it. Blame the sizzle, took so long. See Ozzie sees in her eyes, this no ordinary chant. See how she’s leaning, see how she’s looking. See what she’s really asking, so yes. Say yes. See, can’t just come out and ask. Have to pretend. Not like dust bullshit. Like a game. We know the score. It’s fun.
“Great,” she smiles relieved like. “At the park, after sundown. See you there.”
And she’s gone. Me, I’m thinking about what we going to do. Think hard about it. Think while I go to Donnies and get a fishwich. Always good fish at Donnies, but the fries are soggy. Hate the fries. Save the wrapper and bend the paper carton back on itself, aimless. Not like a problem, just interesting.
See, I think Cindy like the freak stuff. Not into easy time, Cindy. Smooth, sure, but like a bit of salt. Could see her grinding and hopping, ripples on skin. Truth. Thought about it a lot.
See, it’s what we’re for, the rolling. We eat so we can roll, we drink so we can roll, we sleep so we have enough energy to roll. Like everything grows and spreads. Everything eats something else. Everything a disease, right? We all disease, and it’s kinda beautiful in a way, not like pus, but we love it. Get us back to our primal root, yeah? That’s what we do. Ribber not a good chanter, but he got that right.
Done thinking. Decide to take a walk through Upper West ’til sundown. Lots to see in Upper West. There was a house across the way from Donnies. Tall like, two stories, but no white picket, no yard, just a walk up. Two, maybe. What’s that called?. Seen it every time. Catches the eye like. Not nines, not twos, just interesting. I went to look at it again, and see how nothing had changed.
Duplex. That’s what it’s called. Didn’t look the same, though. New door handles, maybe. New windows. Little things. Things I didn’t remember well, or things that I remembered too well, so it looked different.
On the roof, I remember, were statues. Gargoyles. Still there, I see, as I stand on the street and stare. They look old, like they seen things. Sage like. Experience, only not the active kind, right? They seen, but they didn’t live. What they seen on the streets, I wonder? Like now, there’s shouting down the way. Guy and a girl, maybe. Can’t tell what they’re shouting. At each other? Maybe. Could be violent. What these streets seen, what they are, who’s on them.
Walked to the park. Didn’t like how the building was making me think. Not when Cindy was waiting for me, thick lips pursed like studying.
Show up at the park and there she is, smoking a stick and handing it to another girl. See? Knew she liked freak. Thought hard about it, wouldn’t mind a third. Never seen her before, or if I had I don’t remember. She was tall, taller than me, and I’m not short. She had long brown hair that hung down to her chest. I say chest, because I didn’t see breasts, but she had a thick coat. Hung open, could have hidden them good. Didn’t see her face well. Cute nose, I guess. Strong jaw. Nails painted velvet black, and a silver chain hung on her neck. Tight jeans and high boots, she was dressed for the gutter, alright. Might walk the street. Never thought Cindy walked.
“Threesome?” I ask when I get close. Cindy, she laughs at me, nose all wrinkled. I laugh too, because what else I’m going to do? Other girl, she doesn’t laugh. Looks sick. Pale. Me, I don’t judge. Can’t see her well. Maybe a six? Still roll.
Cindy talks while other girl nods. Me, I don’t listen. I look at the stick in Cindy’s lips. Think about it. Cindy drops the stick and walks into the park, into the treeline and past the road. Brushing aside the shrubs, she nudges her way to the dirt and the grime, the mold and the dead leaves. Off the path, where people walk, thinking they’re in nature when they’re nowhere near the worms.
Found a spot between three trees. That was important, Cindy said. Part of the chant. Three was important. Then Cindy sets up this tealight, and starts jumping around, blowing on her hands. It was cold that night.
Me, I don’t know what they want me to do, so I wait and watch Cindy jumping around like a cheerleader. Clapping her hands under her arms. Tossing her spiky head. Truth, it did something to me. I liked watching her jump around, knowing her skin was cold, and if I touched her my touch would burn. Like primal. Ancient. Sure the Natives had power too. Got jealous. All magical and spirits and connected to the world. Like no curtain at all. Born without one. I knew it. Had to be that way, right? Noble like. Watched Cindy dance, and thought about being naked.
I didn’t know why we weren’t starting, but I’m nice, so I waited.
This girl walks right up to Cindy. Doesn’t say a word, just sits down on the cold dirt. Cindy, she doesn’t say a word, just sits down next to this girl. No one’s told me to sit down, so I stay standing. We going to roll, or something?
This girl pulls another stick out of her pocket, gives it a sniff. Holds it in her hands like golden. I look at the stick too. So does Cindy. We’re staring, all of us, at the rolled stick in this girl’s hands like it’s the second coming. A key to salvation. A portal. Which it is.
Sticks are good sizzles. Simmers, really. I hoped it wasn’t Kabbage, because Kabbage is shit. I hoped it was Peelie’s Pie and Wash, or Green Dragon. Those are my favorite. Been a while since I’d had A Dance with Streaks In, that’d be nice.
We kept looking at it, and I started to rock back and forth. Made me feel odd, standing. Like I’m doing something wrong, like I’m not supposed to. It’s just sitting there, the stick. I’m just standing. Why don’t they tell me what to do? Like I’m in charge? No. Not doing nothing. So I sit down. Feel uncomfortable. Wonder if we’re supposed to smoke first.
Cindy takes out a lighter and grabs the stick from the girl. She doesn’t react, like the stick had never been there. Cindy lights up, and doesn’t even puff at first, just looks at it, reverential like. Girl looks too. So do I.
Feel real uncomfortable now. What am I supposed to do? We doing a threesome? Who was this girl? I didn’t like these questions. When you’re asking questions, you’re in danger. Something could happen and you make a mistake, or slip on a peel, and then where are you? You fall, and there’s nothing worse than a fall when you don’t have far to go.
Cindy takes a puff. So does the Girl. So do I. Good shit. Not Green Dragon, not Peelie’s or A Dance. Don’t recognize it. Home roll? You don’t smoke a home roll. Not when you don’t know it. Could be anything. Could be bad. Only I know Cindy, right? But do I? Something special, she said. Like new brew? Something hard in the stick?
We don’t talk, we don’t move, we just sit there. Real uncomfortable. Even with the stick I’m sweating, nerves like. Can’t take just sitting. I’m about to burst, sitting there, thinking about being naked, about what I just smoked, about what I’m about to do, what it’s about to do to me.
Then Cindy holds out her hands.
Me, I don’t get it. I sit there, looking, and this girl takes one of Cindy’s hands. They’re both looking at me. I think they’re going to start laughing. Like that’s why they brought me here.
Cindy’s hand is still open. I take it, and then the other girl takes my other hand.
Were we supposed to chant now? Like this? Touching each other? What the hell did they want me to do? How could we chant like this? There was a tea-light, and the stick, but where was everything else? Never chanted in the park before. Felt wrong, somehow. Think I was just cold.
I start simmering. The stick does the work. Strange, like pepper.
Then Cindy, she starts talking. Low like. Sultry. Sexy. Can’t hear what she’s saying. I look at the other girl, and she’s bowed her head. What do they want me to do?
But they’re chanting. I can tell. Whispering. Were they chanting for the same thing? The same chant? You don’t do that. You chant for yourself. On your own. But here was Cindy, hand in hand, we all chanting the same chant.
It was awkward as hell. Never chanted so intimate. What was I doing there? I got to thinking, while we chanted, that this was a date. That Cindy had brought this girl along, and didn’t know her very well, picked her up at the Square, maybe, and wanted to roll but didn’t trust her yet, so brought me along because if something went south Old Oz could help out or maybe she wanted someone to watch them being naked because the Girl was into some kink and that would be fine I wouldn’t mind I knew Cindy was into the freak and I got nothing against queer folk and really I think it’d be fine I could watch to help out Cindy because we were close like that part of the same circle and I think about being naked and I could do that for her and it’d be fine it’d be fine be fine be fine fine fine.
Cindy’s whispering, like I could hear. Could hear what she was whispering if I tried, but not polite. Shut the ears. Awkward as hell. Not my place to hear your chant, why you whispering so loud? Why the other girl not chanting? Why am I so quiet? Polite?
Kept chanting. Lost what we were chanting for. Moved on? Maybe. Something new or old or blue or bold or maybe Cindy wasn’t paying attention either, maybe she was looking at this girl and thinking about naked having a good roll later. Maybe passionate with pulling hair and firm kneading hands on full breasts biting lips and writhing limbs or maybe slow and gentle touches up and down curved hips and soft shoulders. Thought about freak stuff, rubbing and grinding different parts on other parts, where it feels good. Feels weird. Feels like different. She must have been thinking it.
Awkward as hell. Never chanted so small before. So intimate. Hushed and calm and quiet. Didn’t like it, did it anyway because I’m nice. But these girls chanting quiet. Not for me, this chant. Doing it for themselves, not for me. Why was I here? Chanting all quiet like, these two girls. Made me think they were up to something, like they were going to pounce on me and beat me up for something I’d done wrong. Not my place, but they asked me here. Who was this other girl? Just some drifter. I didn’t recognize her, so she wasn’t part of the Upper West scene. Probably drifting through town. She looked happy when we finished, like a weight off. Glad it was done, I think, like obligation. Now could go back to wandering, looking for something she didn’t know what it was.
My simmer is over before the chant is. Makes it even more awkward.
They want me to feel uncomfortable? They know this not my place. They ask me anyway. They want me to feel like this, like they got power over me. They can make me feel bad, and threaten me, like they going to ruin me with a word. They could do that. There’s two of them, only one of me.
They didn’t pounce on me. I chanted with the two of them. Awkward. My heart wasn’t in it. Then it was over. Girl hugged Cindy, gave me a nod, then left. Who the hell was she? I didn’t ask. Some date. Knew it wasn’t a date. Wouldn’t have come if it was. Didn’t cheat on Darla. I’d never do that. Darla and me, we got something special. I’d never do anything to my Darling Darla. No no. Ozzie’s a real wiz. You don’t do that to your squeeze.
Cindy, she just looks at me, like I done something. I barely did anything. Sizzle over, everything looks dumb. What was that? Just silly.
“Thank you,” she says.
Me, I just light a smoke. Don’t even tell her she’s welcome, because what the hell?
“Was it good?” she asks.
What the hell am I supposed to say to that? Was it good? I didn’t know. I was barely paying attention.
I blow smoke and I nod. I’m nice like that. “It was good.”
“Really?”
Like I was lying. She didn’t want me to say no. What could I say? “It was different. Sure.”
She looked away then, thinking like. Me, I just wait. Then she looks back at me, odd frown on her face. “You think Binny and the rest would chant too?”
What the hell did she mean? Always chant, we do. No, got it then. Chant like that, silent and holding hands. She didn’t want everyone to chant. She wanted to guide it, push it along, instead of just let it happen. I got that. Knew the instinct, me.
So I shrug and ask “you sure?”
Cindy nods. “You back me if I talk to Binny?”
So sure, Old Oz isn’t always the smartest. Here I was, thinking Cindy was sizzling hard and not all there. Nope. See, it just takes one thing, and it all makes sense. That’s why I was there. Probably just nerves, I thought, because I’m nice. She wanted to see if she could do it, like training wheels. Wanted my advice. See, that’s all it takes. One thing, and it makes sense. I get it now. Ozzie never cheat on Darla, no no.
“We never done it before,” I say. “We always chant on our own”
“We done it before,” she says. “All chanted for Jersey. Jersey Wellen, all chanted once. Helped.”
She’s kinda right. “That was different,” I say, though she doesn’t see the difference. I can tell, she wants to do it different. We all chanted the same, sure, but separate. On our own. She wants her own chant. All together. Touching. That’s different, truth. Hundred truth it’s different.
“Not different,” she says. “We all chant together, I want to pick the chant. Not different. Not hard. You liked it, yeah? You said you did. You back me when I talk to Binny?”
I never run no circle. Old Oz, he doesn’t want the responsibility. Everyone looking at you like it’s your job to get it done right. And what if it doesn’t work? No, Old Oz ain’t no fool. Truth, Oz never wanted to run a circle in his life. I don’t say anything, though.
“What do you chant for?” she asks me.
I don’t answer her. I just take a puff.
“You gonna back me?” Cindy, she never ran a chant before. Never thought she’d want to. Not her thing, I thought. But there she was, asking me. Like I could tell Binny what to do. Why was she asking me? She should have talked to Binny, taken a shot with him, not come to me. Like this, it was like spying. Sabotage. Anyone can do a chant. Don’t know about should.
But what was I going to say? Just me and her out here, in the night, sharing a smoke. “Sure,” I say. What was I going to say? I’m nice.