Violent Chastity: Part 1
By Maiyeko Singi

Silvio parked the van then decided to pull out and back in. If anything happened all he had to do was take off, step on the gas and get the fuck out. But nothing would happen right? He sat dumb founded. "Now what?" A Suburban pulled into the lot, circled, slowed at the corner, gave him a once over then left. The driver wouldn't have been able to see him, the sun was high enough over the trees to cast a reflective glare but it looked as though the guy saw right into him, knew what he was thinking, what he'd wanted. At that moment Silvio put his hand on the key and turned one click. The radio came on, the announcer talked about insurance discounts and a weekend Tejano concert.

What had his abuela always told him 'my heart is not a chest of drawers, but here is what I think of those people?' He couldn't remember. He didn't need to, he was not one of those men.

"No I'm not,” he sounded. It was decided, he eased his foot off the gas and settled back into his seat turning off the ignition. He let down his window and adjusted a mirror so he could see behind him. "Nothing but trees." Maybe it was too early, or maybe it had been too hot. It reinforced the notion that he was not like some of the guys that came to the park.

"Whatever happened to Miguel?"

"I don't know" Silvio told himself. "Why the fuck should I care?" He sat listening to what sounded like the beat of his heart. There was a fear in him as well as a strong desire to push forward. He wanted to know things that he shouldn't. It was Maria's fault. That bitch had kicked him out of the house and he'd been sleeping in his van for three nights. He'd parked in the lot of the labor pool and got up at 4:30 to work his ass off. Same as he'd done for years, only no warm bed to go home to.

As for other things, initially it started on a job, a pickup wanting a little more than his house painted, then another who gave an extra thirty if he'd strip down. He couldn't have been the only one. Maybe a lot of the guys did it, but no one said anything. They had to do what needed to be done. It was work. There were five empty cars sitting in the lot around him. He wondered where they'd gone. Instinct told him to follow his compulsion and find what he was looking for, but he didn't move. Instead he lit a cigarette and let the smoke dance in his lungs. He could hear his breath which he held, then imagined the clouds swirling around inside. A smile crossed his lips for the first time in days and he finished off another bottle of Dos Equis.

He hadn't remembered opening the door or getting out of his van. The river slid by at a slow crawl as he walked along its bank. There was an old bridge that extended half way across to a hill on the other side, the rest of it lay on the bottom of the river. Time had washed away the stories that an old bridge might have told. Who knew its history or its secrets? Probably no one, just as no one would know the guy