Power of Past Attraction
My vision burst through the forbidden boundaries and just kept going…
We sat across from each other.
Eyeballing had become a fine art. At least a skill in fundamental human communication. I can see you and without a word, speak volumes. I can express either negative or positive vibes.
It’s a wonder this isn’t taken more seriously in university classes. Business mostly, or psychology, political training, debate, drama of course, many others.
The power in silence. There were plenty of times as a teenager when standing close to an attractive member of the opposite sex; I’d be caught like a bug in her sight. I felt just like a grasshopper who’d just failed to jump over a spider’s web. Caught! The deadly web firmly clutching at my extremities. It’s like something was saying, ‘hey pal, you ain’t going anywhere…’
Oh hell. There’re times when you realize there’s nothing to be done beyond futile struggle. Wriggling helplessly in the spider web lines, freeing momentarily one foot only to firmly have three of my other ‘feet’ get tied up. From the corner of my grasshopper vision, I see the large, dark, toothy and deadly eight-legged monster come for me.
It’s at that moment that I recalled a previous lifetime. Like a capsule in my conscience opened up, never happened to me quite like this before. But there I was in a popular bodega, brightly lit up with powerful fluorescent tubes. In the background, the unmistakable beat of Mexican country music. The rich smell of fresh cilantro in the green section.
Chicago has a large Latin presence in an area called Humboldt Park and, of course, there are countless bodegas overloaded with south of the border goodies. ‘Alfredo’s, Cosecha’ along with having the best inventory, was a busy gathering place for friends of all ages, getting coffee and a sandwich in their small eatery.
Next to the small eatery, an aging Guatemalan indigenous woman dressed resplendently in brightly colored costume of her Quiche origins was slapping out Chicago's best tasting maize tortillas.
My course of action that late afternoon was as now another moment of hopelessness. Melina was passing from one lane to another. I saw her pass. Behind her like a pit bull, her hulking slugo of a boyfriend. Lino, a boxer. Rumor had it he pushed her around, which explained the dark bruises on her arms the people whispered about. At church last Sunday as she reached up to push aside a strand of rich dark curls her shawl slid off her pretty cinnamon shoulder to reveal grotesque marks.
As they passed to the next lane, Lino’s head turreted tank like in time to catch me at the end of my lane staring at his women. Captured! No amount of quick movement. Which I tried, oh yes, but not enough to escape his last moment spotting me.
Guilty as charged.
Lino is an up-and-coming boxer. Like some young boxers, not all though, he had that not uncommon fault of being obnoxious and not above using his pugilistic prowess to lord over anyone in whom he perceived up a threat. It was quick. He was quicker. Most face downs ended before anyone got hurt.
The rumors flew in the barrio. Lino sensed an insult, an insinuation, a putdown, all done in silence! It was as if he had to start a fight. Had to start a fight or suffer a deep sense of lacking.
He was still in that nascent stage in a young boxer’s career, who lacked in the social skills often taught by a wise trainer. The boxer wanted his skills on display. Wanted people to say ‘ooh, wow, look at that guy, wow…’. You could see him from a block away on the sidewalk surrounded by hangers on shadowboxing, the upper and lower jabs to the air like lightning.
By itself, the air show was, if not done in the confines of the training gym, looked and was ridiculous. Only a best friend or his trainer could ever tell the boxer that. Lino’s trainer had failed in this part of his guidance.
In a strange way to see a boxer, on the street, or in a department store, shadowboxing showed a boxer at his worst. His lack of confidence, or something, maybe childhood issues, was plain for all to see. Perhaps a result of having failed miserably in social circles as a younger boy. But as he was blinded by his newfound invincibility, he could not see it.
It was, if nothing else, pathetic. Some boxers never learned. They may have even reached a level of local fame, but for whatever reason, never shook the need to be the clown.
As kids, we all hung together and back then we knew Lino’s home life with his alcoholic, abusive dad was pure hell. His mother’s strange disappearance after spending time in a hospital. There were reasons…
As if saying: ‘you will see me, you will watch me and fear me. If you don’t, I can take your head off…’. Psychology 101.
That’s all it took. He saw me looking at my x girlfriend. She looked as wonderful as she always had. Today she wore one of her flimsy sun dresses to ward off New York’s cloak like summer heat. The sleeveless white background with bright blue flower print pattern was like a beacon, hard not to look. Her skirt’s hem, as was the fashion, reached well above her beautifully rounded knees, string thin shoulder straps tantalizingly held up the dress, but did nothing to fully cover up her ample and perky breasts.
Natalie Wood had nothing on my Melina. I lost Melina after she spotted me kissing a girl after too many beers. Stupid. The only rule we had was no cheating, and I broke it. I kissed Roxy. I cheated. Melina’s pride would not permit that she overlook it. Of course, she was right.
Melina must have been vulnerable. Hurt in every way possible. Enough so that she accepted what must have been Lino’s pouring on his best schmooze. Sure, he looks like a damn movie star. I’d heard from a friend of a friend of Melina that she said she was just tired and just accepted Lino’s offerings, whatever they were.
Melina’s bouncy, black, curled shoulder length hair announced to all who saw fun and happy! Her dark, sparkly eyes missed nothing. Still. It mystified me, and others what the hell could she possibly see in this full of himself boxer.
I didn’t miss the dark aviator shades as she passed.
Nothing wrong with boxers. The barrio was famous for producing up-and-coming fighters. We cheered these brave guys on, and we hoped their skills might elevate them out of the general poverty. Generally, these guys were the consummate gentlemen who knew and wouldn’t be caught dead strutting peacock like showcasing their jabbing skills in a supermarket.
Just a few weeks ago in a strip mall’s parking lot, an incident happened not far from Marios Body Shop. It could have been anything. Mostly it was because the stranger locked eyes a little too long with Lino. As though a challenge. It could even be the guy back on his own barrio turf was a ‘tough’ guy. Who knows, maybe it was life’s way of teaching him a needed lesson. Life is strange that way.
Nobody says it’s fair. It’s just life and what in the barrio they call ‘mala suerte’, or bad luck.
Lino was in the poor bastard’s face. ‘Hey, motherfucker. What’s this shit you looking at me like that hombre? You need manners, man. You come to the right place…’ If the guy he was cornering didn’t know about Lino, as a boxer, he was in deep trouble and didn’t know it. He would find out soon.
Usually, these run-ins ended before they started; then there were those times when they went too far.
The taller, bigger stranger from another part of the city went nose to nose with the boxer. His fault that he failed to sense the guy was a killer. Well, not literally a killer, but as close as you could get without actually taking one’s life. Lino always let a boxing challenger make the first move, no matter how long it took. Some boxers did this to gauge the other guy. Some thought there was something honorable about it.
Trainers would ask where these new boxers picked up these goofy habits. Maybe they watched Rocky too many times.
The foolish and bigger guy takes a swing, misses as Lino dodged easily. What followed was just plain ugly. The jabs and punches that followed split the young man’s face wide open. The man went down, but Lino followed him down and continued his punishment. Finally, four others standing around pulled Lino off.
They took the man to the hospital and was in a coma for a week. The authorities were at a loss for what to do, as there were too many conflicting accounts about what had happened, plus that Lino hadn’t made the first move. It was Lino’s loss of control at continuing to pummel the other guy that had people talking.
The two families exchanged insults and promised to make good on threats made.
&&&
Now, from a corner of my vision, I saw movement to my left. I turned. Lino was coming for me from the far end of the lane. Trailing behind him, Melina was begging Lino to relax, to let it go.
‘Hey looser, hey shit head, yo pussy, I’m talking to you!’ I turned to see Lino walking my way. There’s no way out.
It’s a huge problem when it’s my x girlfriend trailing behind Lino, with who I am still madly in love with. Even a weird sense of hope raced through my veins in that instant. There was no option that was clear to me other than facing what was coming.
I’d played high school football. Against a successful boxer, a crazy one, there wasn’t a chance in hell.
The rich scent of Cilantro was everywhere. Strange as that may have been. What really caught my attention was when Melina grabbed Lino by his arm and he turned and, with one swift swing, connected with her chin and she went down.
I attacked in a rage.
&&&
It was sunny earlier this afternoon. Not long before it had rained, and the air smelled of a delicious post rain wash. A large, transparent bubble on a single blade of tall grass lit up enticingly in front of me drew my attention. I was thirsty, and it was hot. Overhead, a brightly lit up orange monarch flapped its huge wings. I felt the air from its flapping.
Something had occurred to me just before. A memory. That happened to me from time to time. I coiled my big hind legs and, with a snap, was airborne. The rushing wind as I flew through the air was exhilarating.
The beauty and wondrousness of it all amazed me.
I landed on a long strand of green rush swaying gently in the wind and near its base I spotted the lovely Iona nibbling on a snack, her long, sleek antennae dancing about as enticing as ever, OMG.
