Accidents Never Happen Read online

  The kid looked Albert in the eye. “No, it wasn’t.”

  “How come you say that?”

  “It was so quick. How fast she went. Right through the barricade. Down to the rocks and water. Then…smash.”

  “Wait—you were there?”

  The kid nodded. His eyes continued to flash with a sad fire. “Even though I hated her, I really didn’t want it to happen.”

  Albert was at a loss for words. He simply said, “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” the boy said. “My sister will probably go next. She’s been through…a lot…a lot of crazy shit.”

  Albert nodded. “I got a wife that I wish would drive off a cliff.”

  The kid pulled back a little, leaned against the back of the booth. “You’re married?”

  “Is that such a shocker? You think an ugly fucker like me can’t get a wife?”

  The boy grinned. “Anybody can. Everybody’s lonely.”

  “Her name’s Bonnie and she’s a lowlife with a mean mouth.”

  The kid shook his head, flustered. “I didn’t mean it.”

  “Didn’t mean what?”

  “To act so surprised when you said you were married.”

  Albert sipped his coffee and said, “It’s a’ight.”

  “No…it’s just…” His voice trailed off.

  “Spit it out, kid.”

  His attention went to the straw wrapper around his finger. He avoided Albert’s eyes when he spoke. “Well, I don’t think you’re ugly.”

  Albert looked toward the pie case where the waitress leaned. “You don’t?”

  The boy’s voice sounded choked. “No.”

  Albert smiled. “Are ya fucking blind in one eye or both?”

  “You’re not ugly.”

  Albert wrapped his thick fingers through the handle of the coffee cup, and contemplated smashing it against the waitress’s skull. He loved to hit things, destroy them. It made him feel alive. He struggled constantly with the impulse to strike out, kill. “That’s good of you to say.”

  “I feel embarrassed.”

  Albert smiled. “Because of your folks being…killed? You shouldn’t. I’ve heard of some crazy situations before. Been in a few of them myself.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” the kid said. “I don’t know your name. What you do.”

  “My name’s Albert. And I already told you, I’m a boxer.”

  “Albert,” the kid repeated. His voice caused the head of Albert’s cock to throb a little and Albert didn’t know why. Under the table he smashed his rising dick down with the base of his palm. He pressed hard against the front of his black sweatpants like he was shoving a bad dog away from the table, to keep it from begging.

  “Yeah,” he said, feeling his face infuse with heat. “I’m Albert.”

  The kid smiled and said, “I’m Joey.” He unraveled the straw wrapper from his finger, allowing the blood to return to the tip. “I like your bruises.”

  The waitress arrived and half dropped their plates in front of them, spilling a couple of onion rings on the table.

  “Hey. Ya forgot my mustard,” Albert said. She gave him a sour look and sighed loudly, fetching one from behind the counter. Albert snatched the bottle from her, giving her a look that shooed her away.

  The anticipation of the unknown made Albert high with a mind-racing thrill he feared was revealed in his eyes and the ridiculous smile he hoped didn’t betray him. Albert dipped each onion ring in a puddle of mustard and licked his greasy fingers clean. He watched as Joey took furtive bites of his club sandwich and delicate sips of his vanilla Coke. He dabbed at each corner of his mouth with a napkin after every bite, as if the crumbs around his lips were pieces of evidence that he didn’t want to leave behind.

  *

  An hour and ten minutes had passed since they first collided beneath the train tracks. They stood outside of the coffee shop on Belmont, unsure of what to do with their nervous hands. Joey shivered from the cold and Albert felt the impulse to offer his jacket or put an arm around him to warm him up. He did neither. He felt the black handle of the red duffel bag slipping down his shoulder. He pulled the bag up again and slid his hands into the pockets of his flannel jacket.

  Joey’s teeth chattered when he asked, “What were you doing before we ran into each other?”

  Albert shrugged. “I just got off work. I was going up to the gym for a workout.”

  “To box?”

  “No. I’m training right now. No more fights for a few weeks.”

  “Wow,” Joey said. “I’d love to see you box sometime.”

  Albert nodded. “Yeah…maybe.”

  “Are you going there now?”

  “Don’t know.” Albert breathed deep. “What ’bout you?”

  Joey pulled an envelope out of his back pocket. It was smashed a little and the handwriting on it was messy. He held it out as if it were an offering of some type to Albert. “I have to find a mailbox.”

  “Got a bill to pay?”

  Joey shook his head, put the envelope away. “No. A letter home. To my sister.”

  “I thought you didn’t like her.”

  “I don’t. I mean, I do. Sometimes. The letter will answer her questions…I hope.”

  “There’s a post office not far from here,” Albert said with a quick jerk of his head.

  Joey nodded. “I was trying to find it when I met you. I guess I got lost.”

  They both grinned like lifelong friends who shared a deep secret.

  Albert stepped forward. He spoke and his breath fell onto Joey’s mouth. He licked his lips. “I could take you there if ya want.”

  “You would do that?” Joey asked. “What about the gym? I could go with you. Watch you train.”

  Albert shook his head. There was no way he could explain a kid like Joey to the guys at the gym. They’d eat him up alive. They could spot a sissy from a mile away. “No. That place ain’t good for you.”

  “I bet you’re an amazing fighter.”

  The kid made Albert smile again even though he didn’t want to. Albert nodded and even blushed a little. “Yeah…I am.”

  Joey started to turn away. “Well…it was nice meeting you.”

  What the fuck? Where’s this kid think he’s going? “Hey,” Albert said. “What are ya doin’? You leavin’?”

  Joey took another step farther away. “I’m sorry. You’re angry.”

  Albert looked deep into Joey’s eyes. “Maybe I wanna take you to the post office,” he said, almost shouting to be heard over the sound of a city bus passing by.

  Joey didn’t look away. “I don’t want to bother you. You’ve been nice to me.”

  Albert was firm. “I already told you—I’m not usually this nice.”

  Joey’s mouth trembled a little when he moved close to Albert. “I liked having dinner with you.”

  “Then why do you wanna leave?”

  “You need to train.”

  Albert leaned in. “How do you know what I need?”

  They both fell silent, inhaled the warm mists exhaled from each other’s mouth. Albert felt his lungs aching from the cold and uncertainty. He felt a gnawing frustration turning into a desire to smash something. He glanced at the lamp post on the corner, taking in the chipped black paint. The knuckle bone of his right index finger twitched. If Joey left, he knew he would hit the post as hard as he could.

  “Kid, I’m messed up,” he said suddenly, surprising them both.

  Joey smiled. He raised a hand and reached toward Albert on instinct, to touch him. Quick, Joey pulled his hand back, lowered it. “No, you’re not.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fucked up. And I don’t know what we’re doing here.”

  Joey looked away, across the street to a cell phone store. He bit his lip, looked nervous. “We can walk away. You go one way and I’ll go—”

  “No,” Albert insisted. “No, that ain’t happening, kid.”

  Joey shook off a sharp shiver. “I’m not sure what you want from
me, Albert.”

  Albert faced the lamp post, ready to strike. He was surprised to feel tears burning the edges of both eyes. “Why do you hafta be so nice to me?”

  Joey’s voice sounded thick with concern. “Nobody’s nice to you?”

  Albert put his knuckles under his chin and popped his neck to the right. His bones made a crunching sound and his shoulders relaxed a little. “Not since when I was a kid, ya know.”

  “Maybe that’s it.” Joey moved closer to Albert. “Nobody’s been nice to me in a long time either.”

  “No?”

  Joey shook his head. “No.”

  “I dare someone to fuck with you now.”

  The boy’s face bloomed into a grin. “Why? What are you going to do?”

  “I’ll take ’em out.”

  Joey lowered his tone, as if his words were meant only for himself. “I wish you would.”

  Albert said, “Dare me.”

  Joey shrugged and backed away from Albert, as if the moment were too intense. “Why do you look so—?”

  Albert’s eyebrow shot up; the one with the scar in the shape of a half moon above it. “So what?”

  “You seem upset,” Joey said.

  “I just—I don’t want ya to—”

  “Go on. Say it.”

  “I ain’t a fag or nothin’.”

  “Okay.”

  “You just…you need to know that, a’ight.”

  Joey shrugged. “You said you were married.”

  “Yeah, but she don’t love me.”

  Joey looked into Albert’s eyes. “She should.”

  “I’m glad she don’t.”

  They started to walk. Albert lowered his voice, worried that some of the people in suits and ties would hear him. “You a queer, Joey? I mean, you can tell me if ya are, ya know.”

  “Does it really matter?” Joey asked.

  They crossed the street. The post office was a few yards away.

  “It’s cold, Albert.” Their eyes met as they shifted and elbowed through the crowd heading the other way. “What do you want to do?”

  Albert cracked his knuckles, switched his duffel bag to the opposite shoulder. “I don’t know. Hang out. Spend some time together.”

  “Why?”

  Albert’s smile vanished. “Who the fuck knows? Maybe I think you’re an okay guy.”

  “That sounds sweet.”

  “I told you I ain’t—”

  “Maybe you just need a friend, Albert.”

  “Don’t have lots of those. Had some back in the day, but I punched most of ’em out.”

  They started walking again. “Are you planning to hit me?”

  “No…No, I wouldn’t do that to you, Joey.”

  “You could kick my ass without even trying very hard.”

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t hit ya, though.” Albert looked at him and said, “It seems to me like you’ve been hit before.”

  Joey stopped outside of the crowded post office. “You know something,” he said, gripping the edge of the envelope and holding it over the hungry blue metal mouth of a mailbox, “I started hitting back last night.”

  Albert seemed impressed. “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” Joey said. “And I’m not so sure if I can stop.” Joey glanced down at the thin crust of beach sand that still licked the sides of his shoes. “I took the first plane home today,” he said. “And I’ll probably get caught for what happened.”

  Albert’s jaw tightened. “Not if I can help it,” he said.

  Joey seemed liberated once the letter was out of his possession. His eyes flashed with a contagious excitement when he turned back to Albert and asked, “What do you want to do, now? The city belongs to you and me.”

  Albert smiled and breathed. “I know someplace warm we can go. We gotta walk, though. My van’s in the garage ’til tomorrow mornin’.”

  They crossed another street, walking beneath the train tracks cutting through the city like a symmetrical forest, with a backdrop of wooden walls plastered with posters that announced the upcoming release of a CD by a female rap star.

  “Where to, then?”

  “Canada,” Albert said.

  Joey stopped in his footsteps. “Are you serious?”

  “You’d go wit’ me?”

  Joey grinned. “I would.”

  “Shit, I wish I had the money.”

  Joey reached for his wallet in his back pocket. “I have thirty dollars to my name.”

  “Then you a helluva lot richer than me. I spent all my money on dinner.”

  “Why Canada?”

  “First place that popped in my head, ya know.”

  “Is that true?”

  Albert looked away, smiling again. It seemed like Joey already knew him better than anybody else. “No…” Albert suddenly seemed shy. “I’ve always wanted to see the gardens. They’re in a place called Vancouver.”

  “I know where it is.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “On the other side of the continent.”

  “I like gardens.”

  “Why do you look so embarrassed?”

  Albert looked away. “You think it’s dumb?” he asked.

  Joey shot him a look. “Are we talking vegetable gardens or flowers?”

  Albert’s smile faded. “I like flowers, a’ight.”

  “More than boxing?”

  Albert shook his head. “No, man, it’s different.”

  “You’re lucky,” Joey said. “I haven’t found anything to like yet.”

  Albert’s smile returned. “Yeah, well, you’re still young.”

  “So it gets better than this?”

  Albert shrugged. “That depends.”

  “On how well you fight?”

  “No,” Albert said. He suddenly stopped. Joey did the same. “Everything depends on who you’re with.”

  “Then I’m out of luck,” Joey said. “I’m not with anybody.” He pulled his hands out of the front pockets of his sweatshirt and blew into his palms. On impulse, Albert reached out and grabbed both of Joey’s hands. He pulled them toward him, holding them right beneath his face. His head bent forward a little, and he breathed onto Joey’s skin. Joey winced, as if he had been burned. Albert didn’t let go. He tightened his grip on Joey’s hands, pulling on them so Joey had no choice but to step closer.

  “You’re wrong, kid,” Albert said. “You’re wit’ me now.”

  Joey

  Joey was twelve the first time he caught his sister smoking pot. Lily was in the basement straddling the washing machine with the precision of a pro bull rider. One of her white slip-on sandals had fallen off of her foot and was lying on the cement floor. The other one was hanging to the tip of her big toe for dear life. She struggled with a cheap yellow lighter, a fiend for a flame. Her calloused thumb slid over the metal wheel that usually sparked beneath her touch. A rolled joint was caught between her lips. She wiped her palm on the front of her cut-off shorts and tried again. Finally, the lighter spit up a tiny flicker, illuminating the half grin on Lily’s face. She brought the fire to the tip of the paper and breathed deep. Her eyes closed as relief enveloped her. A spaghetti thin strap of her pink tank top slid down her right shoulder, but she didn’t seem to notice or care. Lily exhaled a silver cloud of smoke that spun up in slow drifting circles to the wooden beams in the low ceiling. The washing machine suddenly jerked into spin cycle. Lily seemed surprised, but quickly surrendered to the newly discovered sensation. Lily’s legs vibrated for a few seconds before she let out a giggle meant only for her ears.

  The third to the last step of the stairs betrayed Joey’s stealth approach. The old wood made a mouse-like squeal, causing Joey to freeze. Maybe if he was still enough, his older sister wouldn’t see him.

  But she did.

  She turned toward the stairs with whiplash speed. “What the fuck are you doing down here?”

  Joey’s words came out broken. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Don’t tell Mom.” He pointed to a blue circle on h
is T-shirt.

  “You stained another shirt?”

  “It dropped. It melted.”

  “You’re a goddamned retard.” Lily took a heavy drag on her joint. She held the pot in her lungs for a few moments before streaming it out of her mouth in a thick, gray line. Lately, she had been obsessed with crimping her bottle blond hair. She often resembled a victim of an accident involving electrocution. Today was no exception. Her eyes were also frightening, circled and smudged with black eyeliner in a botched attempt to look retro. Lily sniffed, wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “Last time I ever let you eat a Popsicle.”

  A new thought hit Joey and it stumbled out of his mouth. “I’m not the retard,” he said. “You are.” He took a step back, up to the fourth stair.

  “Fuck you,” she spat.

  “You are.” Lily looked at him with wide eyes, caught off guard by his insistence. “Look at your eye,” he continued. “It’s crooked.”

  Lily threw the lighter at him. It smacked against his ankle with a sting. He ran down the last four steps and kicked it across the floor as his sister exploded with rage. “It’s amblyopia, you asshole!” she shrieked.

  Joey grinned and asked, “Is that why you’re smoking pot?”

  “None of your fucking business.” She stubbed the joint out on the gray cinderblock wall. Expertly, she licked two fingertips and squeezed the end of the joint, snuffing out the last bit of smoke. She tucked it into a hip pocket in her shorts.

  Joey decided to use a different tactic. “Cooper says you have a lazy eye.”

  Lily shot up an eyebrow. “Cooper really said that?” Joey nodded, sat down on the stairs. “When?”

  “Yesterday, when he came over to mow the lawn.”

  Lily looked to the floor. Maybe she was expecting to find her heart there. The sadness in her voice was heavy. “But I was born this way.”

  “Exactly,” Joey said. “Then that makes you retarded.”

  Lily shook her head as her anger seemed to slip into an avalanche of regret. “It’s Mom’s fault because she’s an idiot. I have no idea why Dad married her. He’s too good for her.”

  Joey started to leave. On the stairs, he turned back. “You’re ugly.”