The Mark of TORGO
We continue to drive, and the names of burgs rattle through my head, sounding as alien as any prefecture in Fiji or Thailand: Jersey City, Hoboken, Weehawken. They all look the same. Somewhere west of where we started, he finds an area that looks decent in his estimation and parks the car.
A cat pauses on the sidewalk as we step out of the car, the only other being awake at this hour. The streets are eerily empty. We begin walking, and it’s not long before he’s hit a bank, an abandoned attendant’s booth in a parking lot, and the side of a white van – he points out that he’ll only do a vehicle if it’s already been tagged by someone else.
As we walk up a hill, seconds after the now TORGO-bearing van, a police car cruises through the intersection ahead of us. I notice Fernando stand a bit more erect as his stride tightens. He breathes again once the patrol car is out of sight, but we see another on the next block. “All right, man,” he says. “That’s it. I’m done. Two cops in a row, that’s a bad omen. Like a black cat.” He begins craning his neck as he walks, clearly on the lookout.
We pass an empty parking lot, and he exhales loudly through his clenched teeth. “All right, man. Now the paranoia’s starting to set in. Maybe I should stash these here.” He pulls the two cans from his waistband, but puts them back a moment later without another word.
It’s not until we’re back in his car that I see the muscles of his jaw soften. “I’m spent. I mean, I’m definitely tired, but it’s just that I want that rush. I want to keep putting my name up. I want people to see it.”
But I notice as we cruise around, presumably back to the city so he can rid himself of me, that we’re passing many of the same spots he’s already tagged, tracing a circuitous route through the suburban streets. His gaze falls on each wall with a sense of pride and dignity, and I begin to see that it probably wouldn’t make much difference to Fernando if anyone else ever saw TORGO; it matters only that he knows it’s there, that he knows what he’s accomplished.
For the accomplishment is a tenuous one, one easily erased and one for which he could be even more easily prosecuted. And he knows it.
“Really, it’s all luck,” he says as we watch yet another police cruiser pass the ‘fucking sexy spot’ that he’s been admiring, his engine idling at a stop sign. “See, if we’d been there 10 or 15 minutes later, or if the car that drove by before had been a cop, that’d be it. I’d be gone. You wouldn’t have a ride home. My car would be stuck there.”
I grin, pondering how long the car would actually sit there, what with the No Parking sign and all.
As he again begins to tire, through with his fix for the night, the protective wall creeps its way back into his eyes. I’m struck by the sense that he has two distinct sides to his personality, a public and a private — as most people do — but for him the distinction is glaring. He has whatever person he is when he’s Fernando, going about the business of his life. I’m sure that person is a nice enough guy, but I’ve hardly ever met him. He’s certainly been absent for the majority of our Jersey adventure.
I’ve been hanging out with TORGO, an adrenaline-addled, hyperactive creature of the night. TORGO has been more than cordial. He’s gone out of his way for me, answered my questions, and has been so accommodating that it’s honestly surprised me. But at the same time, he’s kept me at arm’s length, maintaining the mystery necessary to facilitate his facade. Even when he’s eating a burrito, as soon as Fernando starts talking about his passion for graffiti, a Jekyll and Hyde switch puts TORGO into Fernando’s place.
Silences begin worming their way into our conversation. We head toward the Holland Tunnel with the Manhattan skyline rising against the black sky and one of the two men is driving me home. We reach my building and I ease out of the car, thanking whomever it is that’s behind the wheel.
I stand on the sidewalk, watching as the taillights pull away and round the corner. The car either carries Fernando home to bed or TORGO back into the night.
