“She playin wit’ herself.” Goodie made syncopations of exaggerated sex sighs.

“She stinkin up that room with herself,” Tulip said. Banging and banging.

One of them jiggled the doorknob. Baby looked at the lock holding. It didn’t hold for Earphone.

“I’ll huff an I’ll puff an I’ll—”

A siren cut off Tulip. Baby heard scuttling down the stairs. She went to the drawer with the beret in it and pulled out a baggie with two fluorescent-orange earplugs. She scrunched one in one ear, then the other.

She settled back on the bed. It took her a few tries, but she got the fabric to fold and stay together, and then she got the needle through all four layers. It held. She sewed up the opening in no time. She took an earplug out and listened. Quiet again.

She put Uncle Asis up against her right shoulder and patted his back.

“There, there,” she said.

She turned off the light and, to be extra careful, closed the window. It wasn’t that cold a night. She held him against her neck as she lay on top of the covers. She wanted to sing him a song. She couldn’t risk it. She tried sleeping on her side with him in the crook of her arm. Maybe then it would come.

It was no use. The special feeling wasn’t going to come. She turned the light back on. She’d feel better if he was safe in his milk carton. She needed to clean everything up too. No wonder she couldn’t relax. She took what was left of the old newspaper that covered him and threw it in the trash. Then she took the needle and spool and put them back in the plastic bag in her silver beret. She took the new newspaper she’d gotten that day and looked through it for a pretty page. The Style section had the flag and a lady with her head bowed. That was no good, so she looked on the front page. There were some autumn leaves in a photo near the bottom. She put that aside. That might be good. She paged through—sofas, banks, cell phones—nothing personal. She turned to the Sports page. It was a Wizards game, a long, big picture of an impossible dunk. You could see everybody on the sidelines, their mouths open. They were tripping. There was one man, he looked like he wasn’t there. He wasn’t even watching the game. It took her awhile, but she realized eventually. She’d seen him. He was there the night that girl was in the tree. He was the white man with the face blank as bread.

PANJSHIR   JANUARY

10.   THE MOON SHINES IN
MY BODY