Day CCLXXVII

Da Dawgs Of War

    She lit his smoke for him, and helped him up off the sidewalk.

     “Que te paso?” (what happened to you?) She sobbed.

     He looked at her, and smiled, “Ain’t nutin, don’t worry aboudit!”

     “What happened to you?”

     “I got beat is all.”

     “Who did diz to you?”

     But though he didn’t say a thing, she figured it was the kids, he was always arguing with them.

     “Help me home Yo, I’m gonna git my knife...Ima kill deeze modas!”

     “No, no no please!” She cried, “There’s too many of em, they’ll kill ya, les go ta Tony’s,” she added.

      Tony was a cousin of his who lived over by Yankee Stadium, and she talked him into going over, and at least spending the night there. They hobbled over to Jerome Av, and grabbed a cab to Toney’s place. She rightly feared more blood being shed, especially his. He really should’ve gone to the hospital, because they kicked, and stomped his ass all over, he could have had internal bleeding. But as much as she tried, he resisted. He wound up staying with Tony for two weeks, and she went by everyday after work to look after him. She cooked for him, and cleaned his many cuts, and bruises, over and over. A month later they had a very quiet wedding at city hall, just the two of them, and Tony was his best man.

     But that afternoon the two camps armed themselves, and stayed in the lobby of their home buildings, looking out unto the street, to see if anybody was starting anything.