Irma Voth (11 page)

FIVE

AGGIE AND I WALKED FOR A FEW HOURS,
all the way to San Juan, a tiny village a few miles away. We didn’t walk right into the town, that would have caused more problems, but to the frayed edge of it. It was still very dark, the village was silent, but we wanted to see the small, twitchy boy who’d built himself a very high unicycle and had to come up with ingenious ways of getting on and off it. We
didn’t see him. We hadn’t seen him in years actually but we thought that life was messed up enough that night that it could happen. And then back to my place. When we got there Aggie asked me to remind her of the cold in Canada. How parts of your body go numb and all you can do is keep moving or you will definitely die.

I want that, said Aggie.

You want your body to go numb or you want to keep moving? I said.

I’m not sure, said Aggie.

I think that’s normal, I said.

How would you know what’s normal? she said.

That’s a good question, smartass, I said, but I’m trying to make you feel better.

We lay side by side in bed. Aggie began to cry and I held her.

She finally fell asleep and my arm was trapped beneath her and I didn’t want to wake her up so I let her lie on my arm all night long and in the morning when she woke up I told her that she wasn’t going home again, that home had changed, that home, like thoughts, according to Marijke, were random patterns of atoms flying around and forever on the move. And I considered telling her that if thoughts and home were random patterns then actions were too, all actions, tender, desperate, lucid, treacherous ones and the promises we make and break, the secrets we share with dying Venezuelans, and the bruises and bleeding cuts on her back. All of them random patterns. And that they didn’t mean a thing.

The rain that was forecast for today hasn’t come. Diego is obsessed with the sky and is worried that if it doesn’t rain soon his movie will be ruined. He is wondering, out loud, about alternative sources of rain. He’s made a call to the
bomberos
, the firefighters, to see how much water they hold in their tanks and how far their hoses can spray it.

We’re all at the table, eating toast and eggs and fruit quickly, about to leave for our next location. I’m not sure exactly where it is but I think it’s a hill, somewhere south of here. I’m nervous about everything. Aggie can’t go back home and she can’t go to school because if she goes to school they’ll make her go back home. Marijke is talking to Aggie about astral projection and while she talks she puts her hand gently on Aggie’s cheek. Elias is talking about the constitution of the avocado which, when he bites into it, makes him feel like he’s eating a baby. Alfredo isn’t here yet but I think he’ll meet us at the hill. I only get bits and pieces of information. I can hear Wilson telling Sebastian that his home is where he can do his art and I can see him listening and nodding respectfully. He doesn’t want Wilson to leave again so he’s willing to listen to his theories. Wilson smiled at me when I handed him his plate of eggs and toast and he whispered something but I couldn’t understand it. Miguel has already left the table and is hauling equipment out to the trucks. Diego and José are reading something, a piece of paper, and Diego is pointing at it and talking very fast and rubbing his arm vigorously. The rebel spirit of my grandfather is directing this film! he said. José is perfectly still, like a kid playing freeze tag, waiting to be tapped. Neither one of them has spoken to Marijke, or even looked at her. Aggie has a cut lip and the red outline of a hand and all its fingers on her left cheek and Marijke hasn’t moved her own hand from it yet. I think she’s redirecting energy but I’m not sure. I’m nervous. I need to talk to Diego about getting paid and about Aggie getting paid too, if she’s also going to help with the movie, but he seems so agitated right now and is already worried about how much everything is costing him so I’ll wait until tonight when hopefully he’ll have gotten the shot that he and the rebellious spirit of his grandfather are looking for and his life will be worth living once again. Now he looks a little sad. He’s smiling at me wistfully, I think, as though I remind him of someone he once knew and liked.

We’re at the hill and Alfredo still isn’t here because of some family situation and Diego is upset. Elias has to listen to him while Diego explains that when he is on a plane and thinks that it might crash or when he’s in a car and it’s about to veer off a cliff he doesn’t think about his family. He thinks about his film. How he has to finish his film because it is his duty to finish his film. That’s how he thinks. He picks up a stick and says it has as much meaning as his own unborn child and then throws it far into the scrubby bushes.

I hate meaning! he says. Why is everyone searching for meaning? Elias stands and listens to Diego. He looks at the sky and nods, as though God is telling him it’s okay, Elias, my son, be patient, Diego won’t be angry forever, just listen for a little longer.

Aggie and I have been hauling stuff up to the top of the hill. Fruit, juice, water, granola bars. We’re wearing cowboy boots to protect us from the snakes. Marijke is sleeping in one of the trucks which are parked at the bottom of the hill and probably stuck in the mud. Her legs are protruding from the passenger side window. She doesn’t have to be here today for this shot, she’s not in it, but she didn’t want to stay at the house all by herself because it makes her feel like she’s dead. José the producer has gone back to Mexico City with some of the reels of film. Everyone is gaunt and exhausted. It’s so hot out here and we’re so high up and it feels like the sun is punishing us for trespassing.

This is another shot of a kiss. A woman is here from Cuauhtémoc to kiss Alfredo who finally showed up. She was supposed to be a Mennonite from Campo 6.5 but Diego couldn’t find a local woman willing even to pretend to be Alfredo’s lover so he’s using this pale Mexican substitute. They’ve tied her hair back and put her in Mennonite clothes and moved her head over to the left for the shot so that it’s more of Alfredo’s face and less of hers that will be visible. They’re about to be passionate on top of this hill.

Sebastian, the soundman, is giving Alfredo more lessons in kissing. I’m trying to learn too. I see that it might work to put my hand on the back of Jorge’s neck and then move it slowly up towards his hair. Diego is telling Alfredo to infuse this scene with love and tenderness, to spread his passion over every inch of the shot softly and smoothly like mayonnaise. He is encouraging Alfredo to think of something romantic to say to the woman. Words are lubricants, Alfie, he’s saying. Alfredo is squeezing his eyes shut and seems to be thinking hard of what that could be. Aha, he’s got something good. He opens his eyes and points them, smouldering, at the woman and says, I’m not indifferent to you.

Diego is screaming. Not indifferent? he says. Not
indifferent
? He can’t stand this life anymore and has wandered away to find a branch to hang himself from. From a distance we can see him still waving his arms around and pointing at the sky and grabbing his head and picking things up and throwing them but we can’t hear him. It’s like he’s playing charades and the thing he’s been given to act out is
apocalypse.

Alfredo says good riddance. He calls him Hitler and cracks open another vampiro. The others are wandering around and looking into the camera and up at the sky and getting things ready for the shot. Sebastian has kissed the woman from Cuauhtémoc at least seven times now, she’s starting to giggle, and Alfredo is standing off to the side with a strange smile on his face, watching and nodding. Aggie and I are sitting on boxes off to the side, braiding grass and talking. Oveja is lying on the ground next to us, panting and farting in the heat. We can hear Diego asking his actors what they think is so fucking funny about kissing.

Alfredo has just pulled a gun on Oveja. They’re official enemies. Before the actual kiss Alfredo is supposed to run, with ardour, to the woman and grab her zealously. Oveja saw Alfredo rehearsing this part and attacked him and Alfredo took his gun out of his pants and smashed Oveja on the head with it. Oveja backed off a bit and stood snarling at Alfredo who was yelling and ready to blow the dog to smithereens. He fired a shot into the air. Diego is now yelling also for Wilson to take the dog back down the hill and put him in the truck with Marijke. He’s trying to explain to Alfredo that Oveja panicked and was convinced that Alfredo’s intention was to kill the woman, not to kiss her, and how could he know otherwise, he was a dog. Are you not more rational than a dog, Alfie? Diego was yelling. He can’t understand your actions but you can understand his because you are a man. Now stop this and put your gun away. Alfredo is threatening to leave again for good and Diego is swearing one inch from Alfredo’s face. I’m going to put away my notebook and walk down the hill with Wilson and Oveja.

Aggie, I said, stay here.

Why? she said.

I’m going to the bottom to talk to Marijke.

I’ll come with.

No, stay here. I’ll be right back.

I wanna come.

No, stay here. I’ll be right back.

I’m coming with.

We caught up to Wilson and Oveja and I spoke to him quickly and softly in slangy Spanish that I’d learned from Jorge and that Aggie wouldn’t quite understand. Wilson asked me if he could put his arm around me while we walked.

Why? I said. Are you okay? I knew immediately that that had been a stupid question but I didn’t know what else to say. Aggie walked ahead of us with Oveja, and Wilson put his arm around my shoulders and told me I looked pretty. I told him I couldn’t do any more naked things with him like lying in the field without clothes on. I told him that
I felt so guilty and so bad and that I was terrified of Jorge finding out and killing me. Wilson said he could understand that. But, I said, I wanted more than anything to be his friend and to save his life. That came out wrong. He told me I was funny, that I couldn’t save his life, but that we could be friends. It felt like we had come full circle, from one obvious point to another one just like it. I felt like I should have said other more important and unique things.

Wilson, I said.

Yes, Irma?

If you knew that this was your last day on earth what kind of story would you write? I asked.

Given that I would actually use that time to write a story?

Yeah.

I don’t know.

Oh.

But it’s a very good question.

I was rejoicing silently in my heart. I had asked a good question. And not only had I finally asked a good question, I had asked a good question of someone I was trying to be friends with as opposed to myself. A question that had breath attached to it, that had left my own body. Jorge told me not to ask questions, he hated them, he could always tell when I was about to ask one and he’d put his hand up and say no, please. Please. Was I betraying Jorge by asking a good question of Wilson?

We got to the truck and Marijke saw us and pulled her legs back inside through the window and smiled and said she had missed us and what was up? She got out of the truck and gave us all hugs. She looked tired. I wondered if
it was true that she had been fucking José. I told her that we had had to take Oveja away from Alfredo. We all decided to have some potassium-replacing bananas and water and a rest before we trekked back up the mountain. We heard more shots being fired and I explained to Marijke that Alfredo was angry again.

Oh my God, she said in German, is he killing people?

No, no, I said, he’s firing his gun into the air. He doesn’t know how to kiss properly.

And that’s what’s making him so mad? she said.

No, it’s the dog, I said. Oveja attacked him.

Marijke laughed. Wilson was teaching Aggie how to walk on her hands but it was a logistical problem because of her dress.

Come here you pig, said Marijke. Oveja waddled over to her. He was bleeding from where Alfredo had bashed him on the head. Marijke stroked his nose and said loving things to him in German which I didn’t bother translating for him.

Then we heard Diego’s voice shouting from Wilson’s radio. He needed Marijke after all, he had changed his mind, he was so close to his perfect shot, and we were supposed to run up the mountain to where they were shooting immediately.

What about the sky? said Wilson.

It’s perfect, said Diego. Send the girls now and tell them to move fast.

Diego said that Elias was running down the mountain halfway to meet Wilson with a reel of film that Wilson was to put under the seat in the truck and lock the doors. And
Wilson was supposed to give Elias a certain lens that he’d bring back up the mountain and everything was supposed to happen now, immediately! We were all about to head up the mountain when we saw Elias tumbling towards us and screaming in pain and the reel rolled along beside him on the ground. When Elias came to a stop Wilson kneeled beside him and inspected his leg and said he had to get him to a clinic because he thought his ankle might be broken and he radioed Diego to tell him what had happened and that his shot might not happen right now after all and Diego went insane over the radio and said we were done shooting for the day and possibly forever. He said that even if he’d been the original Creator he couldn’t have conceived of a more incompetent film crew than the one he had. Wilson switched his radio off. We carried Elias to the truck and he lay in the cab while Wilson drove and Marijke and Aggie and I sat in the back.