Beneath the Bridge

I drew back the baton.  The parking meter looked completely unharmed.  My hand stung.  The baton was shaking.  There was a group of kids with shaved heads or spikey, died hair standing outside of the record store.

*

Jimmy stumbled up the hill and disappeared down the street.  Lights made the streets glow.  Sirens dulled the city sounds and the sound of Punk rock coming from the record store.

*

I was standing there when Christy arrived by my side.  She asked me if she could see the baton.  I looked at the retractable steel baton in my hand.  It looked all bent out of shape.  The handle was intact but the steel shaft was twisted and it bowed to one side.  The only way to close it would be to ram the tip into the sidewalk as hard and fast as humanly possible, jamming the shaft back into the thick black handle.  I slammed it into the sidewalk, my hand stung, my wrist bent, the baton twisted and I nearly stumbled over.  I looked at Christy and laughed.

“Guess I broke it.”

I handed it to her and she hurried off.  Didn’t see her for the rest of the night.  Never saw that baton again.

*

I was under the bridge with Andrew and Samantha.  We drank 40s.  There were some other kids down there, younger—much younger.  All but one of them left.

The one that stayed tried to follow after his friends but stumbled and fell on his butt.

Andrew and I laughed.  Samantha elbowed me in the ribs.

“Should we help him?” she said.

“Hey, kid,” I said.  “What’s your name?”

“Jimmy,” he told me.

*

I was outside the show, wondering if I’d ever see that baton again.  I started back to the record store.  Ryan materialized in the distance and made his way over to me.

I asked him if he’d seen Andrew or Samantha.

I told him I was so fuckin drunk, I almost forgot where I was.

I shuffled footing, I stumbled and leaned this way and that, I hiccupped and laughed, I put my hand on Ryan’s shoulder to steady myself.

He said: “Dude, you’re in Haverhill.  The Knox are playing at Welfare Records.  Maybe you should take it easy for the rest of the night.  Let’s go back to the show, dude.”

He attempted to lead me to the door.  I stopped him.

I said: “Where’s Andrew and Samantha?”

He told me they were by the bridge.  There was a group of them there.  Bill was there too.

Bill, that bastard.  Trying to hook up with Samantha again.

*

Beneath the bridge we were surrounded by cops.  They confiscated our booze.  Threw us against the wall.

“You faggot!” this one cop shouted at Andrew.  He seemed to be in charge.  “You’re scum.  Go stink up someone else’s fuckin city.”

Andrew’s hands were flat against the wall of the bridge.  His face was pressed so hard against it that it later left a mark.  He was on the right, I was on the left, Samantha was in the middle.  There were six other cops there.

The head cop turned from Andrew and made his way to me.

He shoved me harder into the wall.  “You think you kids are tough, huh?”  He kicked my feet farther apart.  “You make this whole fuckin town stink with your rotten music and faggot clothing.”

The other six cops stood around with their hands on their guns and their nightsticks drawn.

“Leave us alone,” I murmured.

The head cop went to Samantha.  “What’s this bitch doing with two faggots like you?” he said.  “I could rape her and get away with it, y’know.”

The other cops stood there watching.  If they were disgusted by what this asshole was saying, they didn’t let it show.

Messing with Andrew was one thing, messing with me was another.  But they shouldn’t mess with my fuckin girlfriend.

*

After Ryan had told me Bill was there, I stumbled into a jog, then a run, then back to a stumble as I approached them and said: “Bill, you asshole.”

I took a swing.  It connected.  Ryan grabbed me and held me back.  Bill was scared.  Later I was told that his stepdad had a temper and used to beat him.

*

I offered Jimmy some of my 40.  He took a sip.

“How old are you?”

“14,” he told me.

“I guess you’re at the right age to start drinking,” I said.

He smiled.

*

I said to the head cop: “Shut the fuck up!”

The head cop said: “You think you’re tough?  Why don’t you take a swing, you maggot.”

“You’re a fuckin maggot.  We didn’t do anything.  You’re the scumbag.  We were just hanging out.”

Samantha put her hand over my mouth.

The head cop said: “You know, maybe I will rape your girlfriend.”

Again, none of his colleagues stepped in to stop him.

“You’re a fuckin asshole.”

“Do something about it.  Or I’ll take this bitch with me.  Bet she’d like it, too.”  He grabbed her ass.

“I’m not gonna do anything.  You’re a cop.  Just fuck off.”

Samantha held her hand on my mouth, even tighter.  One hand on the wall, the other on my mouth.

*

I watched the city get dark as I arrived at the Haverhill train station.  Andrew, who lived in Haverhill, was waiting for me.  When I got in his truck he drove us straight to the liquor store.

*

After the cops felt satisfied like justice was done, Andrew walked to his truck.  Samantha and I walked to her car which was parked at the Haverhill train station.  I put my hand around her and she cried on my shoulder the whole way to the train station.