Irma Voth (10 page)

Do you think he’s alive? I said.

Yes, said Diego.

Why do you think that? I said.

Sometimes my phone rings and nobody talks, he said.

You think it’s him? I said.

Yes, he said. I know it’s him. I talk to him about things. Simple things. My life. My work.

And he never says anything? I said.

That’s right, he said. He listens and then when he’s heard enough he hangs up.

But why doesn’t he want to talk to you? I said.

I don’t know, said Diego. But it doesn’t matter. It’s not important. I’ll talk to him and he’ll listen. That’s how it is now. Like a prayer.

Eventually everybody ate except for Marijke and José who were fucking in her room, according to Diego. She is very angry with me for making her ride with Alfredo in his truck, he said. So she is trying to make me jealous with José. I know her astrological sign well. Very intense. Have you ever been dumped by somebody you didn’t even know you were dating? That has happened to me. It’s surprising.

Oh, I said. So are you jealous?

Only a little, said Diego.

Where’s Alfredo? I asked.

He went home to his wife and kids, said Diego. He and Marijke had a fight.

About what? I said.

Well, said Diego, from Marijke’s body language I think that Alfredo made a pass at her in his truck. I spoke to him about it and he said it was nothing. He put his hand on her leg, like this, she could have been his sister, but she became inordinately angry. She said she wanted to break the truck’s side-view mirror and use the shards to slice Alfredo’s hand off and then throw his hand out the window for the condors to feed on.

But she didn’t, I said.

No, said Diego. She hit him in the face. Now he’s very mad and I’m a little frustrated with her, but don’t tell her because I’m afraid she’ll leave. European women are difficult, he said. They overreact. For instance, French women hate papaya. They say it tastes like urine. I know this. So, if she wants to sleep with José I don’t care.

Diego went outside to stare at the sky. He needed rain. I wished I was a difficult European woman. It occurred to me that Marijke was the same age as my mother. Elias gave me a beer to drink when he saw that I’d been crying. It tasted awful. I had another one. We were outside sitting on the bench in front of the house because I didn’t want Aggie to see me drinking beer. Elias taught me how to smoke marijuana from his vaporizer. He asked me if I wanted him to sing and I said yeah.

Frankie Valli or Van Morrison? he said. I don’t know, I said. I don’t care. Frankie Valli.

He started singing. He stood up and pretended to be holding a microphone.

I passed him his vaporizer.
Like heaven to touch
? I said.

Yeah, he said.

He sang for a while. You can’t be in a bad mood if you’re singing, he said. If you sing a song it’s important that you sing the living shit right out of it. With this part of you. This part here. You should sing with me.

I don’t know any real songs, I said.

How can you not know any real songs? he said. I thought about the songs I had vaguely known in Canada.

Your love is lifting me higher and higher, I said. Is that a song?

He told me he was going inside to finish watching the movie. I looked through the window and saw Aggie sitting very close to Miguel on the couch. Their knees were up like little kids. They had their arms around their knees. They looked like Russian dolls. I tried to think. I needed a plan. I closed my eyes and saw only vines and waterfalls. I got up and walked back out into the dark yard so I could see the stars a little more closely. They didn’t give a shit about my plans. I was trying to figure out what I was going to do with Aggie and then I heard some scuffling and a familiar voice.

Buenas noches, chiquita,
said Wilson.
Cómo estás?

What are you doing here? I said. I can’t believe you’re back! Where did you come from?

I got a ride to Rubio and walked the rest of the way.

That’s a long way to walk, I said. Are you okay?

Yeah, yeah, he said. A little tired.

Why did you leave? I asked.

That’s obvious, isn’t it? he said. Diego and I had a fight but we worked it out.

What were you fighting about? I asked.

I don’t know, said Wilson. His recklessness. It makes me mad. I’ve worked for him before and we’ve had the same fight. He’s a genius but he taxes me. I feel that he extorts from me. Painful feelings. And then I’m happy to be extorted. I don’t know. I just want to make some money and go live in Paris or something for a while and write. Or just read, for like a month. Nothing else.

What do you want to read? I asked him.

Jung, he said. I want to read his journals and everything
else he’s ever written. The way he understands the human mind. But not just the mind. Do you know him?

Let’s go over there by the fence and talk, I said. It’s darker. Irma, I told myself, try to make sense when you speak.

He walked ahead of me and I watched him. When we got to the fence I put my arms around his neck and kissed him. He smiled and leaned back.

Is it electric? I said.

I don’t think so, he said, I didn’t feel a shock. He put his hand on the wire fence and held it there for a few seconds. No, he said. Or it’s burnt out.

That’s good, I said. I kissed him again and took his hands and put them on my waist.

Do you have a girlfriend? I said.

No, but you have a husband, he said.

Yeah, I guess, I said. Would you like to make love right now? Or something like that? Do you think you could or are you too tired from walking?

Here? said Wilson. He looked around at more of the same. Grass, darkness, stars.

Well, maybe just … like, over there a bit, I said. I pulled him slightly farther away from the fence.

We lay on the grass and Wilson peeled my jeans off and lifted my dress up over my arms and then folded all that clothing neatly and put it under my head as a pillow. He sat cross-legged beside me and ran his hands lightly up and down my body. I barely moved. I stared at the stars, mostly. I looked at him once or twice.

Your knees are all scraped up, he said.

Those jeans are … they’re called stovepipes, I whispered.

You have an on/off button, he said. He touched the mole in the centre of my sternum.

Aggie says it’s Zacatecas, I said. If my body was a map of Mexico.

What’s this?

Mexico City? I said. I smiled and looked away.

And this? He touched my eyebrow.

Juárez, I said.

You’re beautiful, he said.

I like the way you walk, I said.

I like the way you moan, he said.

After all that, Wilson asked me if there was something I wanted to tell him, anything at all, because he would keep it a secret for me.

No, thanks, I said. I smiled. I put my clothes on.

I told you that I was dying, he said.

Is that a secret? I asked him.

Well, mostly, he said. Around here it is.

Okay, I said. Well, I used to have another sister.

The one who refereed your hockey games? he said. What happened to her?

Yes, her. She died, I said. In Canada. That’s why we moved here.

How did she die? he said.

I don’t know, I said. Nobody would tell me.

Are you sure she’s dead? he said.

Well, yeah, I said. Otherwise, where would she be?

How old was she?

Sixteen, I said.

Did she look like you? he said.

She was far prettier, I said. And braver. I had this dream about her a while ago. I dreamt that I was in a van with a bunch of people, I didn’t know who they were, and we were driving along the highway in Canada, in Manitoba, and we noticed that there was some kind of fair going on along the side of the road with different food stands and games and some rides and all that stuff so we stopped to check it out and we were walking around and a little bit beyond where everything was going on there were a few chairs so I walked over there because I felt like sitting down and then there was Katie, that’s my sister, sitting in one of those chairs and she was a fortune teller! I was so happy to see her. She was happy to see me too. I had this date square in my hand, my mom calls it a matrimonial square, which was her favourite dessert, so I gave it to her and asked her how she was doing and she said great and that if I wanted she could read my palms. So I put my hands out for her to read and she held them and then she smiled and she looked up at me and that was the end of the dream.

Wilson took my hand. That’s a good dream, he said. Jung would say it was positive, I’m pretty sure.

But that still doesn’t mean that she’s not dead, I said.

That’s true, he said. Have you heard of the song of Nezahualcoyotl?

No, I said. I was thinking about Marijke. I was thinking about how she had asked me if I knew what the four-part cure was but said not to worry if I didn’t because not worrying was part of the cure.

With flowers You write, said Wilson,
O giver of Life,
With songs You give colour,
with songs You shade
those who must live on the earth.

Later you will destroy eagles and ocelots;
we live only in Your book of paintings,
here, on the earth.

Can you say that again? I asked Wilson. I got him to say it five or six times until I had memorized it and could say it along with him in my head. We didn’t hold hands when we walked back to the house but we had exchanged secrets.

The living room was empty except for Aggie and Miguel who had fallen asleep and toppled over in tandem, arms still locked around their knees, mouths open.

Who is that? whispered Wilson, pointing at Aggie.

My sister, I said.

She’s alive! he said.

It’s a different one, I said.

I touched Aggie’s arm and told her that we had to go, we needed to do the milking, but she didn’t move and she didn’t open her eyes.

Ag, I know you’re faking, I said. C’mon. You have to go home.

Miguel woke up and cleared his throat loudly and blinked and focused and stretched out his legs and high-fived
Wilson and said you’re back.
Qué tal?
He got up and gave both of us a hug.

Está bien,
said Wilson. He smiled and rubbed Miguel’s head.

Aggie, I said. Get up. Now. You have to go.

I drugged her, like Roman Polanski, said Miguel, in slangy Spanish he thought I wouldn’t understand.

Only way you’d ever get a girl, said Wilson.

At least
I’m
into girls, said Miguel.

Your sister doesn’t count, said Wilson.

Aggie opened her eyes. We actually understand that, she said. Me and Irma.

Shit, sorry, said Wilson. Say sorry, asshole, he said to Miguel.

Yeah, sorry, said Miguel. We were just kidding around. Your Spanish is not very bad.

Aggie, I mean it, let’s go already, I said. Get up. I pulled her arm and she yanked it back and nestled into the couch.

Why can’t she just sleep here? said Miguel. She can use my blanket and pillow. Hang on.

No, she can’t, I said. Miguel had rushed off to get his bedding. Wilson said he was going to get a beer, did I want one?

C’mon, Aggie, I said. Stop fooling around, okay? We have to go.

I told you I’m not going back, she said.

Yes, you are, I said.

I’ll have a beer, please, she told Wilson. She asked for a pint but mistakenly rhymed it with
mint
.

What does she want? said Wilson.

Aggie, I said. Seriously. You have to go. I grabbed her arm this time and pulled her halfway off the couch.

Why are you so mad? said Aggie. Leave me alone. Let go of me.

I let go of her arm and she rearranged herself on the couch. I sat down next to her and stared straight ahead. I breathed deeply. I spoke to her in Low German. I made a promise.

She was quiet for a few seconds and then got up and said good night to Wilson and Miguel and foul Oveja, who had been let in for the night, and I followed her out the door and watched her walk down the road towards home, hers, and the bright yard light, and her own bed, and our parents, and I stood there for a long time because I didn’t know where else to go. I stood there long enough to feel the chill of the night. The sky was a blanket of stars. Indifferent. I repeated the ancient song of Nezahualcoytl. I stood there long enough to hear my family singing. Why were they singing at two in the morning? I heard the high, creaky voice of my mother and the off-key but persistent voices of my little brothers.

Gott ist die liebe
Lest nich erlosen
Gott ist die liebe
Er liebt auch dich.

They sang another verse and I listened. And one more verse and I listened to that too. And then, finally, I realized what was missing, which were the voices of my dad and
Aggie, and I wondered why they weren’t singing and then I knew and I ran to the house. My mother was wiping tears from her face and my little brothers were pale and stricken. They were sitting at the table holding hands and singing hard with the same energy you need to clear a field of rocks.

Where is she? I said. My mom pointed to the back of the house, towards the summer kitchen, and I ran over there and broke the flimsy hook and eye and ripped the screen door off its feeble hinge and told my father to stop hitting her, he was whipping her with a belt, and Aggie to come with me right then. Right then. My father and I looked at each other. His eyes were wild with fear and despair and he began to cry and he asked me to forgive him. He begged me to forgive him.

Gott ist die liebe
Lest nich erlosen
Gott ist die liebe
Er liebt auch dich.

That’s a lie. My father hadn’t said anything. But it’s true that we looked hard at each other, briefly. I saw his eyes. I remembered Diego’s words. I want her eyes to harm me, he had said when we met for the first time. I want her to be too big for her body, a living secret, squeezed out through here, here, and especially here.