Mai at the Predators' Ball (17 page)

actually I’m an anarchist just passing through and I feel lonely all of a sudden, everyone’s having such a good time drinking and partying, so is this a gay bar, I couldn’t help noticing your nails, you’ve got healing hands, just what my back needs, at the office I spend all day hunched over my drawings and plans, gives you cabin fever really, got a bunch of guys and gals working under me, God it’s boring, you have no idea, you’re all so wide open here, sure doesn’t get boring does it, so your hands, I bet they’re just loaded with talent, I never travel without my massage oils, ’nuff said, yeah I need those nails up and down my spine, never travel without getting massages at every stop, you for instance, I mean those hands and nails on my skin, wow, sure could forget the office with those, they all say I don’t pay them enough, I’ve got all I need, okay so I’m just a little high right now, that’s how come I’m talking to you like this, blacks, you gotta love them, though you don’t seem all that black, ’specially those hands of yours, I was watching you over there with your friends and saying to myself that’s what I need tonight, those hands, oh yeah, and goodbye to all my troubles, employees complaining all the time, it’s too much, hey look I don’t want to scare you off, I’m not looking for sex, just hands, your hands, your nails especially, say those guys singing, are they friends of yours, not too lonely are you, look if I seem a bit weird it’s just because I’m high, right, so don’t be alarmed, I’m really pretty tame, bored is all, so does stuff go on in that sauna, let’s check it out, I wouldn’t mind a bit of porn either as a matter of fact, so the other side of that saloon door, what goes on, yeah sauna, boy I can just feel the tiredness falling away, you have no idea, actually I get bored with sex pretty fast, it’s got its limits you know, what I need is close contact you know, I’m from Ohio, so we going to the sauna you and me, I can get sort of marinated you know, these oils’ll do it every time, hey you wanna stretch out along my spine, nimble fingers, what manna from heaven that would be, then Petites Cendres bummed a cigarette from him and sat there smoking, it had to be that carnivorous smile of his that did it, and Petites Cendres knew he wouldn’t be going into the sauna with him, relieved that Robbie was still close by, Petites Cendres to the Captain’s right, Fatalité should travel, she was a vagabond after all Robbie replied, and whatever you do, don’t go anywhere with that guy, see the way he’s shaking, gotta be stoned, now I know why you like sleeping on the sofa so much, you get to see everything that’s going on, and whatever you do don’t go anywhere with him, Yinn’s got no use for pushers here, he calls them cadre buyers because they have lots of money to flash around and nothing’s off-limits for them, ’specially poor folks, which is just what Petites Cendres was thinking, Yinn’s as honest as they come, so no way is anyone going to ruin his reputation or his image, even more because Petites Cendres’ decline was so obvious even a perverted architect could try and get him, not that his nails and hair weren’t his strong points, they were, so why then didn’t Yinn respond to his charms, wrecked as they were, and no one knew that better than he did, Yinn had a way of sensing what was to come the way angels did, maybe he even took upon himself the weight of every destiny he tuned in to but felt powerless to lighten it, affording a brief gesture of consolation and nothing more, something immaterial and spiritual, barely noticed, that indefinable smile for instance, a distant and indifferent kiss on Petites Cendres’ cheek perhaps, then all of a sudden between shows there was Yinn coming back down the wooden staircase with a short dress lapping at her knees, bare shouldered under the straps that Petites Cendres saw from behind out there in the street with Geisha, Vanquished Heart, oh how he admired the perfection of those shoulders, shoulder blades rippling with muscle as Yinn paced the street with the others, talking to customers as they passed, God how she’d like to avoid this Petites Cendres thought, but it came with the job and you had to boost attendance at the late show right up till dawn, Christ what kind of life is this said Geisha, getting in at five in the morning, sleeping for a couple hours, then yoga on the beach, then sleep some more till late in the afternoon, it was Fatalité’s passing, that’s what had everyone down, so who was there to get them juice in the mornings, Yinn’s mother of course, Geisha said no one had the heart for anything now, crying alone in bed with pillows over their heads, yet here she was after them all to get up and have something to eat, sometimes she even brought breakfast on a tray, saying okay children enough is enough, it’s been a bad week but there’s always another one waiting, just like the new sun every morning, no matter how bad you feel, she knew her own son had the self-discipline to be at his sewing machine starting at ten and she was worried this one wasn’t sleeping enough, especially around Jason, she’d been against their marriage from the start but Yinn just kept saying, not without a hint of arrogance, Mama remember how much you loved my dad, remember what it felt like to be in love, everybody was against that marriage too but that didn’t stop you did it, parents, race, traditions, all that Mama, you remember don’t you, and you always said love has to be stronger than two countries at war, love has to conquer anything and everything, so here was her Yinn with his modern ideas saying engagement and weddings were for everybody and just as sacred as his own with Jason, was she really so old-fashioned that she couldn’t understand what came naturally nowadays, everyone’s getting married in every town and country, what could her ancient customs possibly tell her about this and why wouldn’t she see it, why not evolve with the times, because I was a woman and he was a man was her reply, now that I can understand, yeah well, like me you’re an oriental woman who married a white man, what can I say, but she’d already heard his rationalizations and read him like a book, you know Jason already had a wife and three girls when you met him, where was it, Rome, and he said he’d never seen a woman as beautiful as you were, couldn’t take his eyes off you, even when you undressed and he found out you were a boy, well Mama, that’s love for you said Yinn, triumphant, what else can you call it, love’s stronger than two countries at war right, you told me that when I was little and I never got it out of my head, and I, Yinn, was the result of that love, so strong, so irresistible, sure my Thai prince she replied, that you were and more, I don’t deny it, and your brothers too, but why make this thing with Jason into some sort of political or social cause, isn’t it enough just to be married to him, do you have to make it even more unbearable for your mother, you know he never helps me with shopping or anything, yesterday he thought he was hot stuff buying green bananas, green, at the grocery store, they’re still on the kitchen table and they’re never going to ripen either, there’s your Jason for you, hubby, and what’s it going to get you defending all those people, transexuals and the rest of them, marriage is a formal institution, it isn’t for just anyone, geez Mama your ideas about sexuality haven’t changed for the past hundred years, and all that time heroic men and women have come out of the ranks and overtaken you by generations, then Yinn reeled off their names, Del Martin partnered with Phyllis Lyon worked hard all their lives for equality and finally marriage in San Francisco City Hall, soon after that there were tons of others getting what they’d always missed, couples everywhere getting married, some of them waiting till old age, who doesn’t need a stable relationship with the one they love Mama, why should so many people have to do without something so simple, we should be marching in the street, protesting the way Herman does, well that Herman can do as he likes his mother answered, he’s not my son, you are, and I won’t have you going around demonstrating in the streets out there in California, all kinds of horrible things could happen to you, anyway they’re all going to end up married with or without you, good thing you keep busy in the sewing room, who knows where we’d be with all these modern ideas of yours, you off demonstrating like Herman and all, God what did I do to deserve this, son she lamented, so went their morning conversation said Robbie to Petites Cendres, the mother on her stool on the landing between the two stairways, but their tumultuous disputes did nothing to dim their respect for one another even if the volume mounted non-stop until Yinn ended up yelling oh go back to your room and leave me in peace Mama, there’s really no point trying to teach you anything, you just won’t change will you, and that Robbie said, was how Yinn began each and every day amid his sewing, agile fingers playing over cloth and fabric until Robbie himself showed up needing help adjusting his neckline and bust for the evening, plastic boobs, earrings, ingenue wig and with those same fingers running over him in caresses as spirited as they were impersonal, the hibiscus blossom in front, don’t forget that Yinn told the yawning Robbie, then dressing him entirely and adjusting this and that for the evening, showing him how to hold himself onstage, and thus began their day in the household while Geisha, Cobra, and the others slept on and videos played continuously in various rooms, fond souvenirs of Fatalité dancing and singing in Robbie’s, close-ups of her majestic dancing and singing, her Garbo-like beauty shining through the tears on the giant screen as Jason watched sitting on the edge of the bed in front of the computer, the hollow impression of Yinn’s form still in the mattress, and he thought he could even feel the heat from it still as he placed his hand there. When he was small, Samuel, accompanied by his mother and grandmother, perhaps Jenny too watching over them all, skied down the glistening slopes under a blue sky, here in the Maritime Alps was where they came for winter sport every year, why on earth must you go down so fast, his grandmother, laughing and resplendently young-looking as were the other women in their ski outfits, all of them smelling of the snow and cold, and here was Samuel skiing well even at this early age, spoiled and loved as the firstborn his mother said, here with them for the very first time at this dizzying height, so impossibly loved and spoiled by all three of the women, Jenny still at home in those early days, oh why so fast his grandmother repeated, I’m just not as supple as you Samuel, and suddenly the sky turned grey and icy winds blew down from the silent, snow-covered peaks, then Grandmother lost a ski as she took one slope a little too fast and went off track, the swirling storm of fine, powdery snow, pale and blinding as a flame didn’t help, and Samuel heard his own child voice calling for his mother and grandmother as well as Jenny, but nothing came back save the echo from the mountains, waking from this nightmare and coming to his senses with a racing heart, though the familiar foreheads of his wife Veronica and son Rudy were right there snuggled together beside him, he couldn’t help wondering if his mother and grandmother were in danger, pulse still racing from wild alarm, he held his wife and child close, kissing them as they slept, he had to get up and reserve a flight for that evening so he could see Mélanie and Esther, an icy wind blew through the dark grey New York sky, now don’t you worry Esther, I’ll put your CD on again so you can listen to your sonata for piano and violin by Schubert once more, I’m surprised you’re not tired of hearing it over and over again Esther, you know I don’t like that blues they’re playing out in the street with that fateful beat of the drum, this is the music I want, oh don’t you listen to a single thing I say lectured Marie-Sylvie de la Toussaint to Mère sitting on her bed, her hands resting on a book so calm it shook up Marie-Sylvie badly, the sonata the governess “abheard” so much, what is it you’re so keen on telling me that I don’t already know eh, she seemed to say to the old woman, okay so you know I’m a thief who’s stealing your jewellery, maybe even a madwoman as crazy as my brother He-Who-Never-Sleeps, the jewels are so I can escape from this house and never wait hand and foot on anyone ever again, besides if he is crazy it’s because of those killers and that raft taking us down to the bottom with it, we were barely saved by some priest, yes I remember, and by your generosity when you opened your home to us, oh don’t think I don’t remember your kindness Esther, that priest even stopped them from cutting off our fingers and hands when we tumbled parched and hungry off the raft, those murderers wanted to cut his off too so he wouldn’t climb on board with us, escaped convicts wanting to keep the number of passengers down, and once in a while a wave would carry someone off in the salt water that killed you if you swallowed it, that’s how my brother went crazy and why I despise your family, Vincent no, not you dear child, not you, but can you at least understand the love between my brother and me, the same as you, Vincent you’ve come close to choking to death so many times, how many times have I rocked away your pain and his, right here in your villa and your gardens and garden shelter, how could you imagine, so what do a handful of jewels mean to you Esther, tell me, why in a few weeks, even days, you’ll no longer be with us, oh I know how kind and charitable you are and I know you can find it in your heart to forgive me for the way I act toward you, and if you knew even more about why I do it, all the things that I have seen and undergone, all that happened on that disastrous crossing, just peasants the lot of us, goatherds out in the hills of Haiti, but the worst was yet to come, we could stay there in Cité du Soleil and be wiped out or leave, no one had any stomach for revolt against the tyrants, so leave it we did, and those with us on those floating heaps were killers and thieves too, fresh out of prison, not by the front door either, oh they’d’ve cut off our hands all right, and my brother couldn’t swim anyhow and would never have made it back on board, though none of this was audible but Mère caught all of it from the close-up face of Marie-Sylvie as she fluffed the pillow and poured water from carafe to glass, brisk, rapid movements as Mère said to her I would
have given them to you if you’d asked me, I probably would, the jewels were yours if you’d trusted me a little more, of course everything my daughter’s given me is so precious, but the time has come to divest oneself of these things, so yes, probably they would have been yours, calm, oh so calm with her hands on her book, Mère continued listening to Schubert, not actually daring to sound these words out loud, perhaps later, yes later she would, more than just hoarsely whispering thank you, thank you for all you do for me, yes thank you. Herman told Yinn all the girls have to come with us when we parade the white horse through the streets, then dance onstage too, the last time for Fatalité’s brothers and sisters, same as she did herself that night, tottering on high heels like stilts, the show must go on right to the very last, what guts that took, I’m gonna hunt them out of every nook and cranny, wherever the city has parked them, apartments, rooms, like some sort of leper colony, medicated to the gills, making them stuff down God knows how many pills every hour, even the healthy ones, those barely left standing, youngsters in decaying, aged-looking carcasses, barely a breath left in them, idly counting down the days left inside those poxy skins, maybe fit for some medical experiment like lab rats, haggard and waiting for the next one to die, no point going out or even to the beach, a plague-ridden herd all of them, I’ll round up every single one to come sing and dance onstage just once more, get ’em walking, parading through the streets, proud in their old costumes, your costumes Yinn, yeah that’s it, that’s what I’ll do ’cause, hidden away or out in the open, they’re all still Fatalité’s sisters, every one of us, majesty in the streets with dresses, pendants and necklaces just like Fatalité herself, no feeling tired or ashamed, just the honour of an artist to the very end, princess-like and nothing less, I’m telling you Yinn, there’s no such thing as rotten love, no one deserves that label, so Herman said, go get ’em Yinn anyplace you can find ’em, but some are in the hospice and they won’t come out, look I’ll dress them as best I can Yinn said, dubious, but it might be too late you know, still I’ll do my best to get them looking beautiful and young, fragile faded flowers, Herman people think they’re poisonous but they aren’t are they, still if they think that way themselves what can I do, walls cracking apart on the outside, Jamie can help me with this, I can’t do it alone, it’s too much for me Herman, you know there comes a time when you can’t push back the boundaries anymore, our bodies aren’t eternal, they can only do so much, not true said Herman, the proof is that I’m here alive and kicking, see that black flower blossoming on my leg, now the surgeon would say bluntly that if you catch bone cancer soon enough, yes, why not eternal if we want it, and those others out in the parks, well now they don’t want it, they’ve lost hope, they can’t feel anything anymore, well we’ve got to break them out, every last one of them, that’s what we’ve got to tell them, not tonight, just for one night, unplugged from your tubes, coughing up into hankies, shaken by pneumonia, injections making you look like you’re fly-bitten, enough pockmarked skin, as Yinn listened to Herman it made him think of the exultation of shipwreck survivors, but here in his friend there was the exaltation of redemption, maybe I need to pay more attention he thought, yet Yinn could imagine no spectacle more appalling than such a parade, whether in the street or onstage, multiple repeats of Fatalité all at once in the blue and mauve strobes from Jason’s booth, when one, just one, Fatalité herself near death on that last night of her life, tore into him with hopeless violence and pain, and he said to Herman look you’re asking too much, maybe if we got Jamie’s white convertible, like for the evenings when we take the girls across town, that would look more dignified, then we could go find them wherever they are and maybe they’d go along with it and I could dress them and make them up, sure, just one short special night Yinn said, and Herman replied yeah a chance to get back some hope, after all Fatalité defied fate right up to the last instant didn’t she, they’ve got to stand up and fight back, okay so an open invitation then said Yinn, to anyone who wants to be part of the show, voluntary, no one has to if they don’t want to and Jamie will drive out and pick them up, but you can’t fight nature, sickness has taken its toll and there’s no denying that, you know that Herman, no but you can give them some armour, some sort of protection they haven’t had for a while was Herman’s answer, and Yinn had to wonder could he freeze the sickness in its tracks just for a few hours, beauty as an anesthetic for one and all, better than their decaying bodies hiding out to feed from tubes, barely breathing when the air outside was probably sweeter and the days longer, so Herman and Jamie sent out the call and bit by bit Yinn saw them make their way up to his dressing room, no longer men nor women either, shades perhaps, holding tight to the handrail so as not to tumble to destruction, and presto, Yinn upholstered the shadow bodies with flourishes of fabric, made up their pallid cheeks like pink carnations, veiled lumpy, skeletal heads with luxuriant wigs, though none of them wanted to sing or dance, just parade through the streets with Geisha, Cobra, Vanquished Heart, and Robbie, oh just like the old days when they were envied as artists, triumphant and insolent, oh yes the same as it was with Geisha, Cobra, Yinn, Vanquished Heart, Robbie, and the others, the unhoped for task of giving them new bodies with no trace of wounds or malady, Yinn recognized Fabian from dressing him and by his eyes, which were as beautiful as ever, the only one so young and beloved of Herman, but as he helped Fabian down into the street she knew Herman would never recognize him, she also thought it best to veil his yellowy features and the dark brown eyes that might give him away to Herman, Fabian had begged Yinn in a hushed whisper to spare him this, knowing Herman would no longer remember him lovingly if he saw him so emaciated, and Yinn had obliged by completing his disappearance inside just another unattractive boy or girl, if only for these few hours of celebration in the streets, one more shadow to add to those blended into one another like stars in the night sky, and Herman, applauding in his rumpled outfit as a droop-winged angel from the second show, never knew that Fabian was right there beside him just a few steps away, Yinn’s disguise hiding the despair he would take to his grave but which was momentarily gone when he saw Herman once again, a one-sided reunion but at least he had seen him, and it softened his affliction almost as if Herman had embraced him and said quiet all of you, there is no such thing as pestilent love, here we have men hurt by the misunderstanding of others, nothing more, contaminated only by their disdain and icy indifference, and here among them is Fabian, vulnerable and broken, my friend now and forever, these were the unspoken words Fabian thought he heard, and they enlivened him as he raised his head to the stars while Yinn thought a line of ghosts, I see it but Herman doesn’t, haunted vision of Goya’s inexplicable ghosts in the night in bold colours and dark strokes, or else a night in blood,