smiled at each other. We didn’t speak the same language, but we both understood that watching a little girl play with a puppy made a hard life better, if only for the moment.
Piper was the oldest woman in the club, the girls who didn’t look up to her at least respected her. So when she told them to show up for Kelly’s memorial, they did. All dressed in black, most of them tarted up in evening wear, with long slits up the legs and plunging necklines. Uncle Manny and Turaj both showed up in dark suits. I was touched, even Billy the D.J. put on a black tee-shirt. Manny brought a beautiful flower arrangement, we placed it on the center stage next to my Marilyn cookie jar. Billy lit it with a single spotlight, and he played a mix of Kelly’s favorite songs. Upbeat happy music, Beach House, Florence & the Machine, and U2, the band Kelly and I had shared a love of. Uncle Manny brought out a magnum of good champagne. He poured a glass for each of the girls, then stepped up to the stage. He was a short, round, balding man of sixty, his skin olive tan from working in his garden. Raising his glass he spoke in his high squeaky voice, a voice that never matched the gravity of his body, “Kelly was a good girl, always on time, never gave me any grief.” That was it. That was his eulogy. A couple of the girls got up to speak, Sasha liked the fact Kelly had never stolen any of her cigarettes, unlike others she wouldn’t mention.
“I remember I came in one night, I had had a fight with my girlfriend and I was a wreck, and I had forgotten my make-up at home,” China said. “And Kelly handed me her purse and told me to take what I needed… she was always so giving.”
“She watched Jessie for me one day, when my mom was in the hospital,” Lupita said, her dark eyes hid any emotion behind their pot-fueled glaze.
“I’m afraid to even go home alone anymore,” Madison said through her tears. “This could have been me. There is still so much I want to do with my life, I still haven’t gotten my headshots done. I want to get an agent, and this happens. It could have been me.” A number of them mumbled agreement to this last statement.
No one said anything personal about Kelly. No one really knew her that well. She had been a visitor in their life not a resident. I knew I should speak up but I had no words so I poured a tall glass of Jack, said a silent prayer and proceeded to get drunk. Turaj came up to me at the bar and started to speak, but before the words could come out I shut him down. “Don’t do it Turaj. Walk away.” He must have seen the danger in my eyes, looking down he moved to the other side of the club.
“Do you have a problem with my nephew?” Manny asked, stepping in beside me and pouring himself a short shot of Jack.
“He’s a weasel Manny, and if he wasn’t your kin I probably would have busted his ass a long time ago.”
“His father, my brother gave his life so that I could make it out of Iran, did you know that?” Manny said looking out at the room.
“No I didn’t.”
“Family, honor, very important Moses. When we grew up we were very poor, had nothing. Grew up fighting in the streets my brother and I. Whatever we had we got and held onto by knife or by gun. In the last days of the revolution it was a running gun battle for the border. Get out with what you had. At a roadblock my brother drew fire allowing me to get our families across. He died in those sands so I could be here today. Did you know I have a son who is a doctor and a daughter who writes for the New Yorker, she says I am an exploiter of women. And Turaj, he dreams of one day following in my footsteps. I know he steals a little here a little there, but he only steals from what will one day be his, so what is the crime?”
“What do you want from me, Manny?”
“I want you to give him the respect you give me.”
“Tall order,” I said, letting the amber booze flow down my throat.
“I wish he was tough like you,
Piper was the oldest woman in the club, the girls who didn’t look up to her at least respected her. So when she told them to show up for Kelly’s memorial, they did. All dressed in black, most of them tarted up in evening wear, with long slits up the legs and plunging necklines. Uncle Manny and Turaj both showed up in dark suits. I was touched, even Billy the D.J. put on a black tee-shirt. Manny brought a beautiful flower arrangement, we placed it on the center stage next to my Marilyn cookie jar. Billy lit it with a single spotlight, and he played a mix of Kelly’s favorite songs. Upbeat happy music, Beach House, Florence & the Machine, and U2, the band Kelly and I had shared a love of. Uncle Manny brought out a magnum of good champagne. He poured a glass for each of the girls, then stepped up to the stage. He was a short, round, balding man of sixty, his skin olive tan from working in his garden. Raising his glass he spoke in his high squeaky voice, a voice that never matched the gravity of his body, “Kelly was a good girl, always on time, never gave me any grief.” That was it. That was his eulogy. A couple of the girls got up to speak, Sasha liked the fact Kelly had never stolen any of her cigarettes, unlike others she wouldn’t mention.
“I remember I came in one night, I had had a fight with my girlfriend and I was a wreck, and I had forgotten my make-up at home,” China said. “And Kelly handed me her purse and told me to take what I needed… she was always so giving.”
“She watched Jessie for me one day, when my mom was in the hospital,” Lupita said, her dark eyes hid any emotion behind their pot-fueled glaze.
“I’m afraid to even go home alone anymore,” Madison said through her tears. “This could have been me. There is still so much I want to do with my life, I still haven’t gotten my headshots done. I want to get an agent, and this happens. It could have been me.” A number of them mumbled agreement to this last statement.
No one said anything personal about Kelly. No one really knew her that well. She had been a visitor in their life not a resident. I knew I should speak up but I had no words so I poured a tall glass of Jack, said a silent prayer and proceeded to get drunk. Turaj came up to me at the bar and started to speak, but before the words could come out I shut him down. “Don’t do it Turaj. Walk away.” He must have seen the danger in my eyes, looking down he moved to the other side of the club.
“Do you have a problem with my nephew?” Manny asked, stepping in beside me and pouring himself a short shot of Jack.
“He’s a weasel Manny, and if he wasn’t your kin I probably would have busted his ass a long time ago.”
“His father, my brother gave his life so that I could make it out of Iran, did you know that?” Manny said looking out at the room.
“No I didn’t.”
“Family, honor, very important Moses. When we grew up we were very poor, had nothing. Grew up fighting in the streets my brother and I. Whatever we had we got and held onto by knife or by gun. In the last days of the revolution it was a running gun battle for the border. Get out with what you had. At a roadblock my brother drew fire allowing me to get our families across. He died in those sands so I could be here today. Did you know I have a son who is a doctor and a daughter who writes for the New Yorker, she says I am an exploiter of women. And Turaj, he dreams of one day following in my footsteps. I know he steals a little here a little there, but he only steals from what will one day be his, so what is the crime?”
“What do you want from me, Manny?”
“I want you to give him the respect you give me.”
“Tall order,” I said, letting the amber booze flow down my throat.
“I wish he was tough like you,
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