Fiasco
“You’re awake?”
“Yeah.”
Toya moved outside, settled beside Fiasco. Her legs were bare, her top covered with one of Fiasco’s shirts. She’d awakened from a pretty sound sleep, discovered the spot next to her in bed was empty and cool. He’d done what he’d done with her. But he hadn’t slept with her afterward, really slept. He didn’t cuddle with her, either.
“Couldn’t get to sleep?” she asked.
“Didn’t try.” He brought the brown bag in his fist up to his lips, kissed the lip of the bottle inside the bag and swallowed some liquid happiness. It burned his throat but warmed his soul.
Toya nodded at the bottle. “What you got there?”
“Kool-Aid.”
“Kool-Aid? Doesn’t look like Kool-Aid.”
Fiasco looked at her with hard, reddened eyes. “Yoon is dead and gone. I don’t need this. Stay in your lane, Toya.”
“Yoon?”
He took another sip, then nodded. “My mother.”
“Oh.” Toya looked off into the distance. It was a cool evening. The M and O on the motel sign weren’t illuminated. Place still had vacancies. “HBO needs to be free. This place is a dump.”
Fiasco leaned against the bus. They’d had engine problems, another inconvenience. The bus had just gotten repaired and returned to Fiasco that evening. In the meantime, he’d holed up with Toya in the motel. A dump, for sure.
Fiasco was wearing shorts and a wifebeater, his usual of late, no socks or shoes on.
“You should be careful, don’t step on any glass,” Toya said. “Broken bottles all over the place.”
Fiasco eyed her, said nothing.
“Yoon? What is that?” Toya asked.
“Told you that was my mother.”
“You know what I meant. What was she?”
“Toya? What are you?” Fiasco felt like being difficult.
“My family is from Barbados.”
Fiasco softened some. She wasn’t a bad woman.
“Korean,” he said.
“Father’s black, I take it?”
“Was.”
“Sorry to hear dat.”
Fiasco shrugged. “I was young. I ain’t miss a beat.”
“Oh, no?”
“Nope.”
“Why are you so angry, Fiasco?”
“Ruben.”
“What?”
“My name. Ruben. How come you’ve never asked?”
Toya smiled. The sadness in her eyes betrayed the smile. “Would you have told me?”
“Probably not,” Fiasco admitted.
Toya blinked. And blinked some more. “South Carolina is nice.”
“Think so?”
“Yeah. This is the farthest south I’ve ever been.”
“Farthest you’re going for now.”
“What?”
“There’s a Hilton. I’ll put you up there.”
“What about Georgia?”
Fiasco swallowed. “Nah. I don’t want anybody with me in Georgia.”
Toya didn’t argue.
Wasn’t any use.