Chapter 7, Part D
Her Denial
The two of them danced slowly, ebbing and flowing a few awkward steps because
neither of them had slow-danced in what must have been years. Neither of them
had any thoughts, let alone words, and were content to let Nina Simone’s voice
guide them both where she may. Estrelica opened her eyes ajar to look at the
shadows around the room as the distant hum of a cathedral she
remembered from when she was a child tickled her ears. She saw the silhouette of
J. Dove Dixon on the far wall nodding his head and smiling at her as she returned
his nodding before motioning him away. He obliged. Something blinded her as she
noticed it was just the reflection of the light of the candle in the iron that she had left
out ready to smooth her cobalt blue skirt she had planned to wear the next day
when she went to see her landlord. The rattle of things she had to do tomorrow
echoed in her mind as she closed her eyes to prevent anything disturbing the
moment. She inhaled deeply, parted the skies and dripped a burgundy tinge over
the moon. Then she wrapped her body in the fragrance of hyacinths. She gathered
up a little saliva in her mouth, curled her tongue and opened her mouth to blow a
tiny bubble that drifted over to her portfolio and settled itself on the tie before
bursting. She put her hand on the port bottle holding the lit candle and brought it to
her side as she summoned up all of her strength to look into his face. He opened his
eyes to see her looking at him, then through him, then at him, then through him,
darting her eyes all over his face. Even though he’d had no time to prepare
a face for himself, he looked at her, then through her, then at her
as if she wasn't even looking at him. Her eyes resisted for a
flash before giving way as she fell into his eyes further and
further until she was overcome with a sense of complete
abandonment that thrilled her as much as it terrified her.
He blinked and smiled slightly, trying his best to help her
hang on to herself. Why, he didn’t know. She appreciated his
facial change as a sign for her not to look too far into his
eyes. She regained her sense of self and found she was
disappointed slightly. She inhaled very deeply and sighed
and closed her eyes and slowly placed her slightly open lips
on his that gently guided them both down to the oak
hardwood floor beneath them. He felt her brittleness through
her flesh and caressed her body lightly as if he wasn’t even
there. He slowly traced a heart with his lips from her lips
to her chin and back to her lips and lowered his mouth to
glide across her neck as she let her head fall back, touch
the floor, and stretch her neck. She placed both of her
hands gently on his waist as he nuzzled the curve of her
neck and touched her knee with his hand tracing a crescent
as she raised her knee to support her foot. He moved his
hand under the hem of her cotton skirt, almost catching
his jackal-head silver ring on the frayed hem
and touched the inside of her thighs lightly. She
began to unbutton his shirt and noticed a crease down
the fabric that held the buttons as his fingers
did the tarantella with her mane and her bush as
she slipped his shirt from his shoulders, tied braids with
his chest hair, and his teeth bent down to bite her blouse
and raised it up to her neck. He passed it over her
shoulders as it almost caught on her earrings,
one of comedy, one of tragedy, flung it across to the
ironing board and touched the tip of his tongue to one of
her nipples and touched one finger each to her lips as she
swallowed and breathed and ran her fingers up his leg.
Just the quiet pop of buttons and the rustle of
jeans pushed down as his tongue wrapped itself
into her bush and found the button of no man’s
land. He heard her muscles flex and
let his lips glide over her thighs, as she
gestured to her room and they kissed the
front room good-bye. She took his hand
and guided him down to her bed which
lie on the floor, opened her eyes
gently, and asked for a little
more. She said
"Pass your mouth by here"
and waved her hand
across her face
and choked back
all of the years
she’d been dying in this place.
Suddenly it was silent
and they heard each other pass
through each other’s eyes
and then the radiator filled with gas.
Armitage stretched out his claws
and kicked the window open ajar
so the night could warm its hands
on the slow dissolving of jaws.
"Do you see where this is leading?"
She whispered soft and low.
"Well, I think I’ve been there before
but I always get lost when I go."
"See, I’m there all the time and
when I see them coming
I always seem to laugh
at just how fast they’re always running."
She found all of the bullets
that still lay embedded
in his chest,
and realized
the may have simply been the first
to ever just try their best.
He watched her
cast her eyes to the heavens
and then she cast them
far beyond
and spun around ferociously
"Kiss here
kiss there
kiss here, too,
and here and here
now here again
now here again
and now
and here
and now."
Nothing quite so high above
nothing quite so deep below
nothing
as intensely
quiet
as a breath
drawn out
long and slow.
Estrelica
&
Vic
couldn’t
help
but
see
themselves
on
the
wall
above
the candle
that she lit.
"Your cervical cap is where?
I’m not driving a hundred miles
right now. I’d
just as soon
use my Japanese rag."
"But the kneekerchief you threw
off in the street,
I think that would work twice as well."
"Well, you only live to be young
or old, but there’s really nothing
in between."
"That’s a bet,"
she coughed
and couldn’t
wait
for her next cigarette.
He looked up
to see a bat wing
hanging just below
a bullethole in the headboard
leaning against the wall
as she fingered his throat.
"Well, you see there was
this guy
who gave me a wing
at this place where I once worked
and that bullethole
in the headboard
is from this
happy little jerk.
I guess I should go out
and buy some gasoline
and see if he’s a man
or if the flames lick him clean.
And I hope you haven’t already
found a place for me on your arm."
He found an orchid tattooed
above her heel
and his hands were getting warm.
The statues
in the hangings
were all turning their heads
as the clock shivered
every note on the tape.
She tossed the clock over to Armitage
who bobbed his head
and couldn’t believe
what his eyes saw
reflected on the wall.
Vic blew a draft from his lips
and saw the soot of the day
mingle and change places
as they lay crushing each other
between the pages of
a thousand year old book.
From the center of the ceiling
a spider crawled down
hovered above them
spun web
after web
then climbed back up.
Estrelica sneezed
threw her head back
and three or four webs
curled around her head
as she flicked her mane
up and around her eyes
pounced on her palms
and let her hair fall
on his chest.
And if he could have seen her eyes
he’d probably never
have wanted to do anything else
but see how long
he could stay away from her
and offer his heart up
to the night.
She dripped a bead of sweat
on his thigh
and couldn’t tell
if she was living
or just about to die.
She heard someone
on the widow’s walk above
lean over and scream
as the tears and the silence bled
by the window
but never hit the street.
He took the gardenia
plunged it in the glass
where it grew
and touched it to her below.
"I want to be taken
but for some reason
I just can’t go."
"I want you.
No reason,
and you I may never know
but you took the time to
distract me
and remind me of what I’ve always known."
"You realize, of course,
that this isn’t happening."
"Yeah, I guess the odds
just didn’t behave.
But there’s a little something
that I found
for the morning
that I saved."
Her bed had no sheets
just a piece of cheesecloth
held down with tacks
and when she breathed so deeply
he remembered
she’d been attacked,
and pulled the quilt over them
and melted on the tongue in her mouth.
"Come here,
come here forever,
but for now,
leave me for as long as you can,
and send me a box of what
you’ve seen.
Just leave my dreams alone
and look at me
if you’re so brave."
He knew exactly
what they’d say:
"You’ve been seeing a lot
of her,
but you know what they say:
The devil’s own company
don’t even treat him
that way."
"See, I always forget
what I look like,
but, I guess that it must
be a sight
because the only ones
who ever recognize me
always wonder
how hard I bite.
See,
there’s something
that I just don’t care about
and
I noticed you don’t care about it, too."
"I only have three words
to say to you."
He
inhaled
and
listened
slow
and
sure.
"Your feet stink"
and she tickled him into tears.
The sparks from her skin
lit up the bed
as she licked her lips
almost parched,
and asked for the glass
of water that
held the geranium,
drank it down,
and said
"Take what’s left in this glass
and go and pour it into the bath
and save some drops for my shoulders,"
she smiled and smiled and laughed.
