way. And the only reason I turn ’em down is that I know that they know that if a ex-con like me get busted that they won’t make me no deal to turn on the little fish hired me in the first place. No…I ain’t worried about the sin of crime, it’s the sin of love got me thinkin’.”
“The what?”
Before Tempest could answer me a line of customers formed to buy his fruits and vegetables. I waited for ten minutes or more while he conducted business.
“There’s this lady named Ferguson come by just about every afternoon. She white but she fine. Forty-five, but I know twenty-five-year-olds who’d die for her figure. You know—that older woman grace in a body ain’t given up its shape. You can tell by her eyes that she know what a man wants and what he need too.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” I said.
“She married a very rich man for love and got money in the bargain. He was older and two years ago he had a stroke—paralyzed from his neck down. He up in the bed scared to death. Talks to her twelve hours a day. He’s always suspicious and worried that she got a boyfriend. She don’t but he says if he could move he’d shoot her dead. She knows it’s because of how much he’s sufferin’ and she’s the only one talk to him but she just wore out—body and soul. She loves him but she got needs—you know?”
I nodded, wondering how Tempest would justify his sinful intentions.
“She come down here to buy a pear or an orange and I talk to her. She wants me to come up after Bernini’s guys come to pick up my cart at the end of the day. She say she got an apartment on another floor where we could visit.”
“You’re not going to are you, Tempest?”
He looked at me and then a child came up to buy a caramel apple. After the transaction Tempest said, “She loves her husband, Angel. She wants to be there for him. But she’s right there at the end of a time in her life when she needs a man to do what her husband, through no fault of his own, can no longer do. If I go up there with her, the way I see it, she’ll have more strength to be there for him.”
“But your interest is sexual not saintly.”
“Her need is for a man who wants her and won’t upset her life. She needs a man who needs a woman. How is that a sin?”
“It is adultery.”
“It’s compassion.”
“You are wrong, Tempest.”
“No, Angel, it’s you that’s wrong. That woman is sufferin’ and she turns to me. What sense does it make for me to refuse her?”
“You have to turn her down to save her soul if not your own.”
“You would damn a soul for doin’ what she needs to make it through the night?”
“For betraying her husband.”
“But you won’t damn him for the same thing?” Tempest asked.
“He cannot help himself.”
“Neither can she,” Tempest said. “She might wanna divorce him but she knows that she the only one will sit with him, talk to him. She tryin’ to be right and all she needs is a man to hold her and tell her that she doin’ the right thing.”
“But she’s not,” I said with undue finality.
Tempest looked at me with eyes that had the hint of forgiveness to them. He shook his head, looked away, and then looked back at me.
“Go on, Angel,” he said. “Go on back to that world where nuthin’ evah falls an’ nuthin’ evah breaks. If you evah wanna talk to me, I’ll be down here in the street.”
A Night in Jail
Go on, Angel,
he’d said in my dreams each evening for fifteen fitful nights. Every time I heard these evenly metered words a thrill of fear went through me and it felt as if I was less than I was before.
“Joshua,” Branwyn said as I came awake, sweating and panting over three innocuous words. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
“I, I feel as if I was dissipating.”
“You what?”
“Like dust blowing off in the wind.”
My beautiful soul mate put her arms around me and squeezed.
“I won’t let you blow away, baby. What would me and Titi and li’l
“The what?”
Before Tempest could answer me a line of customers formed to buy his fruits and vegetables. I waited for ten minutes or more while he conducted business.
“There’s this lady named Ferguson come by just about every afternoon. She white but she fine. Forty-five, but I know twenty-five-year-olds who’d die for her figure. You know—that older woman grace in a body ain’t given up its shape. You can tell by her eyes that she know what a man wants and what he need too.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” I said.
“She married a very rich man for love and got money in the bargain. He was older and two years ago he had a stroke—paralyzed from his neck down. He up in the bed scared to death. Talks to her twelve hours a day. He’s always suspicious and worried that she got a boyfriend. She don’t but he says if he could move he’d shoot her dead. She knows it’s because of how much he’s sufferin’ and she’s the only one talk to him but she just wore out—body and soul. She loves him but she got needs—you know?”
I nodded, wondering how Tempest would justify his sinful intentions.
“She come down here to buy a pear or an orange and I talk to her. She wants me to come up after Bernini’s guys come to pick up my cart at the end of the day. She say she got an apartment on another floor where we could visit.”
“You’re not going to are you, Tempest?”
He looked at me and then a child came up to buy a caramel apple. After the transaction Tempest said, “She loves her husband, Angel. She wants to be there for him. But she’s right there at the end of a time in her life when she needs a man to do what her husband, through no fault of his own, can no longer do. If I go up there with her, the way I see it, she’ll have more strength to be there for him.”
“But your interest is sexual not saintly.”
“Her need is for a man who wants her and won’t upset her life. She needs a man who needs a woman. How is that a sin?”
“It is adultery.”
“It’s compassion.”
“You are wrong, Tempest.”
“No, Angel, it’s you that’s wrong. That woman is sufferin’ and she turns to me. What sense does it make for me to refuse her?”
“You have to turn her down to save her soul if not your own.”
“You would damn a soul for doin’ what she needs to make it through the night?”
“For betraying her husband.”
“But you won’t damn him for the same thing?” Tempest asked.
“He cannot help himself.”
“Neither can she,” Tempest said. “She might wanna divorce him but she knows that she the only one will sit with him, talk to him. She tryin’ to be right and all she needs is a man to hold her and tell her that she doin’ the right thing.”
“But she’s not,” I said with undue finality.
Tempest looked at me with eyes that had the hint of forgiveness to them. He shook his head, looked away, and then looked back at me.
“Go on, Angel,” he said. “Go on back to that world where nuthin’ evah falls an’ nuthin’ evah breaks. If you evah wanna talk to me, I’ll be down here in the street.”
A Night in Jail
Go on, Angel,
he’d said in my dreams each evening for fifteen fitful nights. Every time I heard these evenly metered words a thrill of fear went through me and it felt as if I was less than I was before.
“Joshua,” Branwyn said as I came awake, sweating and panting over three innocuous words. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
“I, I feel as if I was dissipating.”
“You what?”
“Like dust blowing off in the wind.”
My beautiful soul mate put her arms around me and squeezed.
“I won’t let you blow away, baby. What would me and Titi and li’l
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