Mona's hands were folded in front of her, purse dangling by its strap before her knees. She looked like a schoolgirl on the verge of tears. And if I could treat the people I love right, Latif added. And be sad when I need to. He thought at first that he was saying it for her, but when the words hit air they felt true.
Latif sighed and craned his neck back to look at the whole church, the building unfinished after a hundred years' construction, scaffolding obscuring its face, and the steeple set off against the blue sky, poking God right in the ass. That's the kind of stuff I should be blowing, but I don't have the strength, the courage, to be the conduit for so much pain. I couldn't do it if I wanted to, because I've got a shutdown instinct that stops me from playing before I self-destruct.
He retreated another step, spoke looking up at her. I need to hurt, though, Mona. Not dull and steady and almost forgettable like life, but sharp, all at once, so I can pretend I'm on the frontlines. For a while music let me regulate my dosage of the pain I'm addicted to, the pain that's our birthright. Maybe smack was just a way to get to some pain once I built up an immunity. A way to do it alone. Mona bit her lip. She wanted to say something, to touch him. Perhaps, Latif thought, she was wondering if being with her had been another way he'd tried to put himself next to some pain. She came down a step, raised a hand to his face, looked into his steady eyes, and let it drop back to her side.
We're all junkies and pushers, Latif said, addicted to hope and trying to get a fix of beauty, scraping our souls and offering the shavings to each other. Not sharing goes against this whole tradition, but somewhere down the line I decided my shavings were toxic. Everything poison I've ever tasted is buried inside me, Mona. Albert never taught me any alchemy, how to turn that into love or let it out without it killing me. If I override the shutdown switch those snakes are gonna slither out my horn and who knows what they'll do?
But I can't be scared. I've got to pick up what Albert left me, figure out how he got past all this and made it pure, where he found so much love.
Mona stepped forward and hugged him. They stood together without speaking until the bass solo was over. I wish I was Marisol, she said. I want to be the one to step in from nowhere and save your life.
I want to do it myself, Latif said. But maybe that's the problem.
Maybe it is. They each stared down, intently, and then Mona took his hand. Come on, let's go back in. It'll be over soon.
He shook his head. I can't. It's too much. I've got to go home. Will you come up after it's over?
Mona closed her eyes and nodded, squeezed and released his hand. Latif let it swing to a standstill.
If that's what you want, then I will. She turned and walked back to the church, pulled open the door and disappeared inside. A gush of piano bass and drums escaped as she entered. Latif watched the door close, gangled down the last few steps, and plodded uptown to his room with the sun on his back and hip hop blasting past him. He gathered up his saxophone in aching buckled arms, cleaned it inside and out, warmed the cold reed with his tongue, and tried to play.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Love and thanks to my entire family. To Elvin and Keiko Jones for showing me the music and the world and making me family. To Delfeayo Marsalis, Sonny Fortune, Cecil McBee, Robin Eubanks, Greg Williams, Carlos McKinney, Antoine Roney, Frank Foster, Eric Lewis, and Steve Kirby for breaking it all down in words and notes. To Andre C. Willis for ten invaluable years of guidance. To my peoples for their love, interlocution, spirit, support, time, collaboration, guidance, and energy: William Upski Wimsatt, Tricia Rose, Douglas McGowan, Eugene Cho, The Apple Juice Kid, Vernon Wilson, Mark Hanson, Jason Santiago, Robert G. O'Meally, Dave Cohen, Kevin Aquaboogie Glenz, Rachael Knight, Sarah Suzuki, Katherine Aaron, One*9, Petra “Treek78” Richterova, Jimmie Williams, Lucas Carlson, Sophia Wang, Gerald Cyrus, Michael Eric Dyson, Bonnie Hiller, Gil Scott-Heron, Cary Broder, BOM 5, Adam Lazarus, Andrew Bujalski, Michael Heppner, Ricardo Cortes, Lethal, Dan Bailis, Jon Caramanica, Eli 173, Danny Rudder, Adam Levine, Mercer Sparks, William Fisher, Jamel Brinkley, Jason Fifield, Silo Grainbomb, Chicago Joe Hundley, Manie Barron, Frankie Hernandez, David Miguel Gray, Phase 2, Special K (Treacherous Three), Jack Kaplan Trent, Aura, Keith Gessen, The Five Thousand Pound Man, Cee Justice, Shane Sweetwater, Gnomad, Steeples, DJ Frane, G'Brey Milner, Kenneth Reynolds and the Darkside Crooks. To Alan Ket, Vee Bravo, Clyde Valentin, Ray Acevedo, Jessica Green and all the original Stress magazine heads for keeping me covered back in the elementary days. To Michael Cunningham, Binnie Kirshenbaum, Nicholas Christopher, Wallace Gray, Ann Douglas, and Tim Taylor for being my teachers. To all my tennis ball game cats for growing up with me. To all my hip hop and writing students at the Liberty Partnership Program at Bank Street College: Y'all are going places. To my agent, Richard R. Abate, for being a bad motherfucker. To my editor, Debbie Cowell, for her unwavering support and searing insight. And to Victoria Haggblom, for everything.
PUBLISHED BY DOUBLEDAY
a division of Random House, Inc.
1540 Broadway, New York, New York 10036
DOUBLEDAY and the portrayal of an anchor with a dolphin are trademarks of Doubleday, a division of Random House, Inc.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Mansbach, Adam, 1976–
Shackling water / by Adam Mansbach.—1st ed.
p. cm.
1. African American men—Fiction. 2. New York (N.Y.)—Fiction.
3. Jazz musicians—Fiction. 4. Saxophonists—Fiction. 5. Drug abuse—
Fiction. 6. Young men—Fiction. 7. Hip-hop—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3613.A363 S53 2002
813'.6—dc21
2001047398
Copyright © 2001 by Adam Mansbach
All Rights Reserved
eISBN: 978-0-385-50536-9
v3.0
Table of Contents
TITLE PAGE
CONTENTS
SCALES | RIPTIDE | LATIF
TIMEKEEPING | SHEDDING | DUTCHMAN'S
TAKEOFF SOLO | HOOKS UPS | CORNERMEN
SWING LOW | REFLECTIONS | SAY BRO
WALKING IN RHYTHM | MANDATES | SONNY BURMA
THE DUET | BAGGAGE | MONA
TIME AND TIME AGAIN | TRANSLATIONS | MORNING
SHOUT CHORUS | RHYTHM CATS | MOVES
THE GHOST OF PRESENTS PAST | CONVERGENCE | CIPHERING
ATONES | PLAY | THE BODY POLITIC
COUNTERSURVEILLANCE | HOT MATH | CASCADE
LAMENT | THE UNREQUITED | TRISTAN
HANG/OVER | PROPERTY | SILENCE
COOKING LESSONS | COMP | VAN HORN'S
HEADCUTTING | ROAD SONGS | REMEMBER THAT
FLATNESS | SCRAPING | SNAKES
VAMP | BLOODLINES | DRINKS
BREAKS | PROPHECY | STOPTIME
SOUND BLOCKS | BINGE | THE BECKONING
HALFSTEPS | BETWEEN THE DEVIL AND THE DEEP BLUE SEA | TEARING
DRIVE | JUNK | MARISOL
EN ROUTE | CLENCHING | WESSEL GATES
HOME | SOMNOLENCE | LEDA
MEASURES | MEDICATION | OUT
WAKING | LIFELINES | REQUIEM
ROUND TRIP | WILL | BIOGRAPHY
RECKONING | HOLES | ALCHEMY
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
COPYRIGHT PAGE
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