Programming and installing. Cleaning out viruses, restoring lost files. The getting to the root of a problem. There was always a source, always a solution. Computers were systematic, had a built-in logic with wires and chips that corresponded to specific functions. They were programmed, and they carried out the functions for which they were created. You could count on it. When something went wrong, you could fix it.
Not people. People were wired to hell. He wanted to growl like a rabid mastiff when he heard someone say, “The body is a machine.” What asshole thought of that? Screwed up and angry and wanting love, fucking desperate to get it and not knowing how to get it, and willing to do anything just to get a taste of it. Or worse, striking out because you couldn’t get it—all that love you wanted. The body was not a machine. Machines and computers, he could deal with. There was always a solution for the problem.
What was the solution for him?
“What happened to your face?”
He hated Al. Always interrupting him, always asking him questions. “Nothing.”
“You get in a fight?”
If he didn’t answer, maybe Al would just go away.
“Does it hurt?”
“What?”
“The bruises? Do they hurt?”
“Actually, they feel good.” Andrés stared straight into his eyes until Al looked away. He smiled, then laughed nervously. Then walked away.
Andrés shook his head. He should’ve stayed away from work for a couple more days. But his bruises would last longer than a couple of days, and he couldn’t afford to stay away from work, even though he knew there’d be questions from people like Al. So what did it matter? He did his job. And did it well. He did it very well.
He could still smell Al’s cologne as he sat and read his e-mail. He wondered about guys who wore so much cologne. The world was full of them. As if they were trying to hide what they smelled like. As if there was something terrible in their smell, something mean and rotting inside them. His father had worn something sweet on his skin every day of his life—even when he worked out in the yard. His brother, too. Lots of it. You could smell him when he walked into the room. And keep on smelling him when he left.
“Armando, you’ve used up all my goddamned cologne. Your mother gave that to me for my birthday. Armando!”
Armando kept his eyes on the television set.
“Dad’s talking to you, Mando.”
“I didn’t hear anything.”
“He’s shaving. In the bathroom. Shaving and yelling at you. Can’t you hear?”
“I didn’t hear a thing.”
“I think Dad likes to yell from the bathroom.”
“Dad likes to yell from every room in the house.”
“You make him mad.”
“Doesn’t take much.”
“Armando! ¿Me estas oyendo?”
“He’s just gonna keep yelling until you go and talk to him.”
“I don’t hear anything.”
“The whole neighborhood can hear.”
“You’ve got to learn to ignore some things in life, Andy.”
“Don’t call me Andy. You can’t go around ignoring dads, Mando.”
“What do you know? What are you, ten?”
“Ten and a half.”
“You don’t know shit.”
“You think you know everything, don’t you? Don’t you? Just because you’re gonna be eighteen next month.”
“I know more than you, you little shit.”
“Mando, I’m talking to you. Get your ass over here!”
“He’s mad. You used up all his aftershave last week. And this week, you’ve used up all his cologne. Why do you like that stuff, anyway?”
“Girls like it, Junior.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Like you really know what rukas like.”
“Like I really care.”
“Maybe you’re just a little homo.”
“Shut up, you asshole. And just wait till Dad finds out about that shirt you stole from his closet.”
“What shirt?”
“I saw you. It’s one of Dad’s favorite shirts—like he’s not gonna know it’s missing. Like he’s not gonna know who took it.”
“You tell, and I’ll kick your ass.”
“So what? Go ahead. I don’t care.”
“Mando!”
“I’m coming! Just wait—I’m coming!” Mando got up from the couch, and muttered to himself. “If he fuckin’ doesn’t want me to use his cologne, why doesn’t he put it in a place where I can’t find it?”
Andrés picked himself off the living room carpet. “I hate cologne. I swear I’ll never wear it. I’m not. I’m not.” He heard Mando and his father yelling at each other. Their arguments were getting worse. Every day, something new to yell about. He walked out the front door. He saw his older sister and her boyfriend leaning on the car in the driveway. He walked up to them. He smelled the air. Yup, someone was wearing cologne.
“Andrés, you’re weird. Why are you sniffing like a dog?”
“I was just investigating, Yolanda.”
“Investigating what?”
“Nada. Never mind.”
He saw his little sister riding her bicycle up and down on the sidewalk. He walked up to her and kissed her, his favorite thing to do. She laughed. “You’re silly, Andy!”
“Yes, I am. But tell me something, Ileana. Do you like guys who wear cologne? You know, do you like the way they smell?”
“Like Daddy and Mando?”
“Yeah, like Daddy and Mando.”
“They smell pretty, don’t you think so, Andy?”
“Yes, they do. They smell very pretty.”