Feathers

Those prairie dogs. God bless them. Those wretched creatures. All afternoon I observed them, in an almost deadly calm, with the mezcal bottle fluttering on my table, about to start on that primrose road at the first call. I watched those damned animals limping across the vast stretch of emptiness on the other side of the street, scavenging over the roadside, scraping off anything that could barely be called nutrition. They would be dead meat soon enough. Cooked dead meat. Under the sun blaze, the whole town of Mendosa felt like melting. That poster with that bastard gigolo movie star on it, who was stretching out a wide grin, an expression slightly sarcastic, yet somehow pitching to you a strange honesty and a lucid awareness, an awareness perhaps of his own position in a decadent industry as a pit-bottom scrap of guilty conscience, started to turn brown on the edges.

Da Madisas had no AC on. They said they had sent for a mech. Hours gone whoever that was he ain’t coming. I couldn’t feel my head on my shoulders, except for that constant confusion of pain and misery, and my shirt was soaked inside out. I raised my thyrsus for another bottle to knock myself out of my miserable existence once and for all, and Marie came, sitting on the table side, her buttocks squeezed out into my territory and touched my elbow.

She gave me an innocent smile, and pushed the elixir into my arms. I grabbed her arm as she went, though I didn’t have the faintest idea why I did it. She turned about in a restrained posture, and tried to palm me off. As I let her go, she jumped up and disappeared into the backroom.

Minutes later, she came out, and changed her staff uniform. She was nervous, but delightful. I asked her what’s this about, she said don’t you wanna go somewhere. I asked where. She had no clue. Out, she said, I’m off work, and this place is smothering me.

OK, I said, I guess we can start somewhere. Anywhere at all. So we stood up, and walked out into the golden reign of summer.

Out first stop was the movie. Mendosa was never put onto the map, and no investment was ever interested in this tiny dot at the border, so no casinos, no emporiums, nor recreational parks. All we got was a movie house owned by the Rez brothers, and a pool house at the other end of town. We thought it a good idea to find someplace air-conditioned, so we walked down the street and went straight for Rez. Lam Rez was sitting at the counter, chewing gum or his own tongue. He had a horse-like, stupid freckled face, and two disproportionate eyes. I could barely look at him. Luckily he didn’t try to stare at me either. He looked down at some dime novel but I wasn’t sure he was reading it. More likely he was just dozing it off.

Marie came up to him and asked for the things on showing. He didn’t even bother to look up and just pointed at the wall, where a burned paper was tacked, on which a list was displayed.

“What you like, sweet?” Marie seemed genuinely interested.

That shook me a bit, but I managed to steady myself. I told her whatever she likes is fine by me. What about some thriller? she asked. Gee, I don’t know. I can’t say. I said. I’m always taken by those psychological thrillers, you know. Not the scary ones, but those that really seem to happen somewhere. Those that seem to be capable of happening anywhere. Even here in Mendosa. She came closer to the wall and put her finger onto the defaced paper, massaging those tortured letters that barely managed to comprise a reflection of the glorious Valhalla for all unhoused and disturbed apparitions from the past. The Golden Age. The bygone age of noir. The age of almost unscrupulous romance.

I want to watch this, sweet. she said. I didn’t even need to answer. Lam Rez took us down the bottomless pit at the end of the corridor, and there we were fit into an empty hall. At least it’s cooler here, I told her. She giggled. I feared to know why. To suppress that uneasy feeling grumbling in my bowels, I swiped the thin film of sweat on my palm off my shirt, and I felt my way into her dress as the film started to roll, and I felt her shake. She clenched her teeth like she was a fucking hex, like she was put to a stake or something.

I hate you, she suddenly said, in a distorted voice.

I didn’t budge. I was really trying to cop that feel maximum. As I intruded into that swampy heartland, I felt like I was touching an egg from the inside, as if I was toying with the little chick’s inchoate heart cavity. A particular vibration was pushing my finger tip, a vulnerable pulse of sentimentality. I rubbed the watery plant with increasing intensity, and more dews were collected into the folds of my hand. She was panting like a dog. What a bitch. This I tried to whisper into her ears, but I didn’t really think coherently. My consciousness was gradually unraveled and every dent my brain carried seemed to be ironed flat, like a tapestry unfolding before my eyes with myriad colors and shapes, without any limitation in breadth or depth. She started to scream, though I couldn’t really tell if it was her or the victim on screen. I felt the thing that was lurking inside me was riding high, and it was about to swell into something I couldn’t really picture or imagine, a mass of unadulterated sickness that could only be touched, but could never be digested either by thought or stomach. It was like a flock of birds that were fluttering inside my belly. I knew I couldn’t keep them down forever. I couldn’t cage them. On that thought, I suddenly realized that I had a responsibility to every fucking cock-sucking fuckable fuck on this fucking mud ball, and I really had to let these little fucks go for a while.

So I set them free.

Are you fucking crazy? Are you fucking crazy? Oh for Christ’s sake, get a hold of yourself! She jumped up, as if suddenly let loose from the electric chair.

She didn’t like those birds one bit. They nested all over her dress, she looked feathered and ludicrous.

Oh Marie, you reeked of birds. I said. Then I heard her bursting into laughter.

You are ridiculous. And you look ridiculous. I said.

She laughed even harder and really had it a while. She didn’t stop until I watched her tearing up a little, and I slumped further into the chair.

You are ridiculous. I repeated.

Oh my poor thing. She cooped around my head with her both arms. Oh my poor thing. She said it again.

I suddenly felt so cold. Her skin was like snake, slithering all the way down into my flesh. So I pushed her away and stood up. I told her to leave me alone. She stood up too and tried to coo me. She grabbed my arm and I couldn’t break free. I had to humor her. That bitch.

Let’s go someplace else, cool your head a little. she said.

I really didn’t know what goddamn place to go, but I thought I would go anyway. So we bounced halfway into the movie. When we went outside Lam Rez was not there. The lights were on so he must have left only temporarily. He probably went off to the commissary, to gulp down a few shots. I couldn’t care less. As we walked outside, the flare almost shot me blind.

I was still not prepared for the heat. The first minute under the sun, my sweat was already pouring. I had a sore throat. But I managed to make myself heard. I asked Marie, do you know where to go next?

Marie grinned with an almost neurotic mysteriousness. I don’t know, sweet, I don’t know. Then she looked to the other end, where the prairie dogs had now migrated, and asked, do you want to do some pool?

I guess not. I don’t feel like it. As I spoke I felt burning, so I cut my detestation short.

All you say, sweet, all you say. She squinted a bit, looking around, as if trying to aim at something, anything at all. She inhaled the rusty air and held her breath for a few seconds, then suddenly let off. Well, I guess we could always pay a little visit. she said.

To whom? I wondered. But I didn’t show. I just listened and acquiesced. I didn’t want to be an asshole.

Jon would love to have us. she said.

Is she home? I asked.

Why, of course, sweet, of course. she looked quite amused by my apparent innocence.

Jon’s house was really just on the roadside. A couple of bonsai pots designed to catch rainwater were placed on the staircase. An awning protruded off on the side, over a little porch laid with creaking planks. In its shade rested an empty armchair. Jon used it when she was smoking joints.

We went up and rang the doorbell. Soon enough we heard her scratchy voice. Who is it? she called. Her voice was distant. Marie and Dan! Marie had to holler back. Come inside, the door’s not locked! Jon shouted.

We pushed the door open and went inside. Jon was sitting on a stool, working at her easel. She got an African figurine in front of her, an ebony tribal goddess with a lanky stature that was obscenely emphasized by her puffed up belly.

Help yourself. There’s tea and crackers on the table. Weed in the cupboard if you want some. Jon didn’t bother to suspend her project. I could see she had just got enough interest to proceed without us.

Cool. I said. I really wanted to puff some, for I felt a headache. So I asked Marie if she wanted to smoke. She shook her head. I opened up the cupboard, and grabbed a sealed paper bag out. On it was a label that read lethe.

I laughed. Marie asked me what’s there to laugh about. I showed her. She didn’t get it. I knew she wouldn’t, and I didn’t bother. I just lied down on the floor and started to blow. Marie said she needed to take a shower and change her clothes, and she went up. I heard water splashing on her body, and I started to picture how every spate and every tributary would immerse her in an almost ineffable aura, an aura that had suddenly caught on such an immense appeal in this totally ugly and barren void of time. I got a hard on just thinking about her thighs, and how dewy her pubic hair would look. I felt my cock hurt in my pants, so I unzipped and let it show. I started to rub it a little, and a sudden chill seeped into my pores. I’m not sure if I cried out, but the ejaculation felt so extreme that it bounced and almost knocked me off. I curled on my side, and my scrotum felt a gentle squeeze as reality had peeled off into a vertiginous storm of flakes and pieces. I tried to stare at those marbles standing in the corner, all lathered in my cum, but couldn’t really see nothing but my own dizziness. Then I began to wonder how it took Marie so long. I didn’t hear a sound from above. She must have done her cleaning already.

---

The weather cooled down near dusk. So we went off despite Jon’s hospitality. The church started to sing vespers. We sat on the curb and watched the demolished house right in front of us. The bulldozer was abandoned right at the venue. I didn’t know what I was watching, the debris or the machine. But I kept my vigil, and Marie kept hers. We didn’t move till it became really dark, and the lights were on. She said, it’s about time, sweet. I nodded. My head felt a lot cooler, and a lot heavier. I stood up and patted my pants.

We started to walk on the pedestrian. Marie lived in my neighborhood, so we had the same destination for a while. At the third turn we had the cemetery on our left. I didn’t feel like home early, so I asked if she wanted to take a stroll among the stones. She said of course. We walked inside the gate, and we saw all sorts of slabs.

I said, look Marie, the House are convening here. I pointed to a dozen of them crowned by stony crosses near the oak tree and told her that that was the Catholic Church. She laughed. We pranced and tried to spot some unusual inscriptions.

“Oh, I got one here.” Marie said, and walked up to a slightly slanted one, reading aloud, “Gertrude Swanson, 1946 - 1989, my beloved mother, though not a very good one.”

I felt that to be really funny, but I crackled in a horrible manner, like an old croaking crow, so I stopped right away. We lost interest soon enough anyhow. Then we just waited there for something to happen. When night finally befell us, I heard pines overhead swishing in the first cool breeze that was sent to us this whole day, that was caressing my ears in a casual yet endearing way. I jumped onto the fences and tried to stay there. Marie held her changed dress to her chest, standing in a safe distance, so that she wouldn’t miss if I tumbled. A strong hankering suddenly started to scratch my inside. It was a thirst that had always been soberly kept to me as a treasure, as an inherited secret. A golden lie that was bigger than anything. I felt its inexorable burn, and it had set my whole body ablaze. I knew at the snap of a finger that I was magnified ten-thousandfold, by what I had no faintest idea. I just started to puff up and swell, that my body had become so light that a breath would easily take me away. I could have touched the feathers at angels’ feet that night. But Marie took me home, and I slept it off.