blood porn
act 3
The cat returns to its place on the television and begins to clean itself, growling with teeth in fur. Pete turns on the radio. Gospel singing mixed with static. Charlie sits in the rocking chair. He wipes his bleeding mouth with one hand. Then again. Pete pours coffee into three cups and adds whiskey. He gives one to Charlie. Jesse comes out of the bathroom, hair hanging wet on her shoulders. Now she wears a blue shirt, open at the throat. Black leggings with a hole in one knee. She stands at the sink, blowing into her cup. The music becomes a dirge.
Jesse puts her cup down.
I want to dance, she says.
Pete looks at Charlie, who is staring at the cat. Pete shrugs and puts one arm around Jesse's waist. They move across the floor. Charlie wipes his mouth and watches them.
They drift in a ragged waltz. Jesse's feet are still wet, leaving small prints in dust. Pete holds her stiffly. She looks over his shoulder at Charlie.
Pete gave me those scars, she says.
Charlie doesn't answer. Pete's face is hidden in Jesse's hair.
With a razorblade, she says. And on my feet.
Jesse, says Pete.
He likes to do things to girls, she says. That's how he got the black eyes. He was touching a girl on the streetcar and she didn't like it. Girl started yelling and the streetcar was full of people and some tourists were drunk and started beating on him.
She's lying, Pete says. She’s a fucking cutter.
It was the cops that saved his life.
Charlie looks at his gun, then at Pete. You a pervert, he says.
The music stops but they still dance.
Pete sits on the floor. Charlie doesn't look at him. In the kitchen Jesse is boiling a pot of water.
That true, says Charlie. What she said?
No, says Pete.
I told you I did some time, Charlie says. When I broke my hand in the showers. Molester is the lowest piece of trash in the house. One fellow, we found out that's what he done. Some boys got together and castrated him with a guitar string. Never saw such blood, it was like bleeding a pig. He close to died.
It's not true, says Pete. I never touched a little girl.
What about her? says Charlie. Them scars.
The cat jumps from the television. Pete lights a cigarette. Jesse smashes a bottle in the sink and his shoulders twitch. Her back is to them.
Let's show him, she says. What we do.
She turns with a long curved piece of glass from a broken bottle. The cat begins to chase it's tail. Jesse gives the piece of glass to Pete.
Let's show him, she says.
Pete crushes the glass under his boot. Jesse sits calmly on the floor. Pete goes to the kitchen and opens a drawer. He touches two knives together, then examines a fork.
Don't we have an ice pick? he says.
No, she says.
Pete goes to the bathroom. He leaves the door open. There is a dull crashing noise. Then again.
The mirror, says Jesse.
Pieces of mirror can be heard falling into the sink. Then running water. Pete comes out and goes to the bed. He sits down. I'm tired, he says.
Pete, says Jesse.
He rips a thin strip from the bed’s sheet, wraps it carefully around the knuckles of his right hand. He gets up and walks in a circle. He comes toward them.
I'm tired, he says.
Jesse looks at him.
Listen, Charlie says.
Pete crouches in front of the television. He pokes through the remains and selects a heavy chunk of dark glass with a rough edge.
Pete holds the piece of glass flat in his left hand. The cigarette in his mouth. Jesse sits crosslegged on the floor before him. Steam begins to rise in the kitchen. Water runs over the edge of the pot with scalding noises. Jesse takes off her shirt, placing it aside. She doesn't wear a bra. Pete looks down at the glass in his hand. He blows smoke through his nose. Jesse wets finger and thumb in her mouth. She touches her left breast, making a close circle around the nipple.
Hold on now, Charlie says.
Pete reaches with the glass. Jesse still touches her breast, pinching the nipple between fingers. He touches her lips with the glass, then draws a line across her collarbone. A mark appears but the skin doesn't break. Jesse rocks back and forth at the waist. She moves her fingers to her mouth again. Pete hesitates. He rops the chunk of glass to the floor. He unwraps his bloody knuckles, touches his fist to Jesse’s breastbone. He pulls away and a half moon mark of blood is left.
Charlie sits very still in the rocker. Pete is gone. Jesse looks around her. The bra she wore earlier is under the table and she puts it on.
Did you like that? she says.
He doesn't look at her.
It's better, she says. When Pete is in the mood.
Did you like it? says Charlie.
It was my idea, wasn't it.
Something is wrong with you, he says. Both of you.
No, she says. I don't think so.
It's not normal.
What is normal? she says.
I don't know. Something else.
Jesse lights a cigarette. Did you ever see your parents make love?
My daddy left when I was a baby.
But your mother must have had lovers.
I didn't watch them. I got respect. Besides it's nasty.
Jesse laughs.
I have a home movie, she says. That my parents made of themselves.
Like a porno, you mean.
Do you want to watch it?
No, he says.
I could set up the projector. It's no trouble.
Charlie stares at her now. Where is Pete? he says.
The quality is very poor, she says. Only one angle and they never kiss. Nothing like that. The father slaps the mother until she falls over the bed. He pulls up her dress and rips her pantyhose. The mother doesn't resist. She just lies there and he takes her from behind. The mother bleeds. The film is black and white and the blood is black. Then another man comes in but you never see his face. He wears a bathing suit. He masturbates on her. When it's over the men leave the room and she wipes herself off. The mother puts on clean panties. She walks to the camera and turns it off.
And you watch that, Charlie says. Like on the TV.
Sometimes, she says. I like the way she turns the camera off. Like it's the oven or something.
Where is Pete? says Charlie.
In the bathroom. He throws up sometimes.
What was the water boiling for?
Infection, she says.
Pete comes back. There is water on his mouth. He doesn't sit down. Jesse stands, she puts her arms around him.
I’m hungry, he says.
Poor boy, she says. She stands on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.
My belly feels like a fist, he says.
Poor sweet boy. What do you want?
I don’t know. A sandwich.
Charlie smiles, watching them.
What are you grinning at? says Jesse.
The two of you. This is how normal people act.
Oh, please. He’s hungry.
Jesse walks to the kitchen, opens the refrigerator. Pete and Charlie follow her. Pete sits at the table and lays his hands flat. His fingers are trembling.
We have eggs, says Jesse.
She opens the carton, removes an egg and shakes it. I’m always afraid I’m going to crack one of these, she says. And find a chicken fetus.
Jesse lights the stove and takes out a skillet. She opens the fridge again and takes out a slab of gray bacon. She places several strips in the pan and begins mixing eggs in a bowl.
I love the smell of bacon, says Charlie.
I’m sorry, says Jesse. Are you hungry, too?
Yes. Thank you.
Charlie sits down facing Pete. He lays the gun flat on the table before him. They watch Jesse move at the stove. She still wears only the black bra and pants. Muscles tense across her back. She reaches for a long knife and Charlie places one hand on the gun. Jesse chops a clove of garlic in brief, sharp strokes. She turns, wiping the blade on a towel. My, she says. Isn’t this cozy?
Do we have any milk? says Pete.
Jesse drops the knife in the sink. She pulls a carton of milk from the fridge and examines the expiration date. She pours a glass and gives it to Pete. He takes a long drink, wipes his mouth with his sleeve.
Thanks, he says.
Jesse smiles and strokes the edge of his ear with one finger. Charlie is watching and she turns away. She takes out dishes to set the table. She is humming a children’s rhyme. She places a bowl and spoon in front of Pete. She looks at Charlie.
Move the gun, she says.
Charlie drops his eyes. He puts the gun in his lap. Jesse serves the eggs with a wooden spoon. She puts a plate of bacon in the middle of the table. Pete begins to eat, his head bent over his bowl. Charlie mutters the Lord’s prayer. Jesse smiles and lights a cigarette. She leans against the stove and Charlie looks up.
Are you not going to eat with us, he says.
No. I’m not hungry.
Sit down, then.
Only two chairs, she says.
Charlie looks at Pete. Give her your chair.
Pete is chewing. He stops. What. Are you kidding?
No. It’s rude to let a woman stand.
I don’t want the fucking chair, says Jesse.
Why not? says Charlie.
I don’t like to watch people eat, she says. It makes me sick. It makes me think of dogs.
Charlie sighs. Well, thank you. It’s two days since I had a good meal.
Pete pushes aside his bowl and looks at Jesse.
But why does it make you sick, love?
The noise, she says. The sound of someone chewing.
What else? he says.
I don’t want to talk about it.
I’m sure Charlie is curious.
Charlie stops eating. Jesse walks away.
She doesn’t eat, says Pete.
I’m not sure I understand.
Fucking food. She hates the stuff.
She must eat sometime, says Charlie.
Oh, she eats enough to stay alive. She ate half a peach last week. A slice of bread two days ago.
Why doesn’t she eat?
It’s fascinating, really. The textbook anorexic thinks she’s too fat. That if she were only skinnier she would be beautiful. She starves herself for love.
Charlie frowns. But your wife is a fine looking woman. A little bony.
There’s the rub, says Pete. She wants to be ugly. Then no one will love her.
Jesse sits on the floor. Her face is pale and she hugs herself as if she’s cold.
Her father loved her, says Pete. He tried to fatten her up.
When I was six I played a game, says Jesse.
And her mother, says Pete. She was a big girl. Daddy liked a woman with some meat on her.
I had two Barbie dolls, says Jesse. And stuffed bear called the pigman.
She thought her Daddy would stop loving her if she was skinny.
The Barbies waited until the pigman fell asleep.
She was wrong, says Pete. Daddy loved her still. He loved her too much.
When the pigman was asleep the Barbies tied him down.
Daddy never wanted to hurt her, says Pete. He said so. But she was so little.
The Barbies set the pigman on fire, says Jesse. But it was only pretend fire. Mother told me so.
Jesus on a horse, says Charlie.
Pete has tears in his eyes. He gets up and walks in a circle. Opens the fridge and closes it. There is a long silence. Jesse smokes, a thin smile on her face.
Do you still want to kill her? says Charlie.
What? says Pete.
Show me how you would do it.
What is he talking about? says Jesse.
Nothing. He’s talking about nothing.
Use one of those steak knives, says Charlie. And don’t bother making it look like suicide. There’s no need. I’m your eyewitness. I’ll swear it was self-defense. Take the knife in your right hand. Pull her head back with the other and stab her in the heart.
Jesse. Don’t listen to him.
Go on, boy. Do it, says Charlie. You said you wanted to.
Jesse’s eyes are dark. You said that?
Do you want the gun, says Charlie. If I give you the gun will you shoot her?
Give it to him, says Jesse. Her teeth flash.
I don’t want the gun, says Pete.
Would you shoot me? says Charlie. He extends the gun, butt first. Pete places one hand on the gun. For a moment his and Charlie’s hands touch.
No, says Pete. I don’t think so.
Charlie pulls the gun away and stares at Pete.
You are pitiful, says Jesse. She sinks into the floor as if suddenly very tired.
Did I ever tell you about the first time I had sex? says Pete.
It was with a man. I was twelve, I think. I was in the park, hunting bottles for the nickel deposit. This man was sitting on a bench. He asked me if I wanted to make some easy money. Five dollars, he said. He smelled like he'd been sitting out in the rain. He wore a gray sweatshirt with the hood over his head. He showed me the five pinched in his knuckles. I said okay and he took me to the bus station. No one was around except two old black guys watching a soap opera. He said come on and went into the men's room. The bathroom had metal mirrors. They have those in jail, so no one can cut each other. They make your face look like a person drowning. The floor was wet from a broken pipe. The hiss of water and the man wore football cleats. His footsteps were like rocks hitting the floor. He pushed me into the big stall at the end, the one for wheelchairs. I wasn't sure I wanted five bucks anymore. The man put his arm around me. His mouth was a stinking hole. He was missing most of his front teeth. One of his eyes was clear blue, the other white and bloody. His hands big with curved nails. He touched my face, he kissed my lips. His breath was like something dead. The man pulled down his pants and said hold my joint. I had never seen a foreskin before. It made his dick look like a little hairless animal. It got hard in my hand. The hood peeled back and the face poked out. It pulsed like a fish trying to breathe. The man said pull on it, pull ‘til it come. The thing was dry as leather and I pulled, forcing my hand up and down. Pull motherfucker, he said. Pull on that joint, he said and I felt something give and my hand was wet and I thought it was come. But the man was howling fuck goddamn shit boy and I opened my eyes. It was blood. The foreskin was torn like ribbon. The man held his bleeding dick in both hands, screaming and howling. I pushed him and he went down twisting between the wall and the toilet. Then I was running, holding my bloody fist away from my body
Jesse’s face is white as ash.
Charlie, she says. Did you ever have sex with a man?
Lord, no. I never, he says. I never did.
It was years before I could masturbate properly, says Pete.
Jesse makes a noise in her throat. She picks up a small piece of glass from the floor. She holds it close to her face, turning it to the light.
I thought I must be queer or something, says Pete.
Charlie, says Jesse. I want to show you something.
Then I had sex with a boy, says Pete. I was in the ninth grade and we did it on his mother's couch. Every Thursday when she played tennis. He had swimmer's muscles and he was very gentle. We got drunk on Seven and Seven and he showed me how to French kiss. His name was Johnny. I think he was in love with me but I never felt anything.
Jesse moves close to Charlie. Do you see this? she says.
A piece of glass, says Charlie. I see it. Charlie is pale and sweating and he holds the gun loosely. He licks the dried blood on his lip.
Pete puts a cigarette in his mouth. Then in the eleventh grade, he says. I managed to fuck a fat girl when I was drunk. After that everything was just cool.
Do you notice anything about this glass? Jesse says.
Charlie looks away from Pete. He studies the bit of glass between her fingers.
It's green, he says. It has some paper stuck on it.
That's right, she says.
Jesse. Give me a match, says Pete.
The paper is from a beer label, says Jesse. This came from the bottle I broke in the sink.
Jesse do you have a match? says Pete.
He closes his eyes. The unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth.
Jesse, he says.
I don't have a fucking match, she says, without taking her eyes off Charlie.
Charlie moves the gun from one hand to the other.
The glass I took out of your foot, Jesse says. It wasn't green. But some of it had paper stuck to it. Like this. It wasn't from any coffee table.
Pete opens his eyes and looks at Charlie.
It was a table I stepped through, Charlie says.
No, says Jesse. It was a bottle.
What the hell does it matter? Pete says.
Jesse flicks away the bit of glass, looking at Charlie. You were in a big hurry to get out of there, she says. You forgot your shoes. It was dark and you stepped on a bottle.
I was in a hurry. That's the truth, Charlie says.
You aren't even a thief.
Charlie touches the gun barrel to his mouth. I had to kill those boys.
Pete lights his cigarette at the stove. Jesse watches Charlie.
Where did you meet Jones? she says.
I killed him dead. With this gun.
There isn't a drop of blood on your shirt, she says.
It's not my shirt, he says.
Where did you meet Jones?
Charlie wipes his mouth. I was drinking in a bar, he says. An old woman was playing on the piano and I was listening. The piano sounded pretty.
Jesse nods. But you didn't have any money, she says.
No. I had my own money.
Jones bought you a drink, she says. He’s a nice guy.
I got some money. Charlie stands up, then sits down again.
His friend was with him, Jesse says. Jones and his friend. They're mostly domestic but sometimes they like the odd number in bed.
Pete stands facing the shattered television, smoking. The hammer is at his feet.
What's the difference? he says. Leave him alone.
Jesse lies on her back, her arms crossed over her chest.
This is such a sad story, she says. It’s just like television.
Pete picks up the hammer. He smashes it against the floor.
What happened next? says Jesse.
Charlie looks at the gun. His chin jerks up and down.
Jones asked if you wanted to go home with them, she says.
I went home with them, says Charlie. I thought I could get some money. He collapses backward in the chair, his knees together.
The apartment is dark, says Jesse. A few candles burning. There’s music and you are alone with two men. One of them takes your shoes off. He strokes your feet. The other one is kissing your neck.
Touching my feet, Charlie says. It's nasty.
The hammer crashes to the floor again. Charlie groans.
Jesse sits up and turns to look at Pete. She holds up a book of matches. He opens his mouth then closes it. Jesse lights a match and drops it to the floor.
Jones has a gun, she says. He showed it to me once. He keeps it on his bedside table. It isn't loaded, of course. It's just for shock value.
Jesse strikes another match.
But Jones doesn't have bullets for his gun, she says. He told me so.
Smoke rises from the dead match between Jesse's feet. She watches it. Charlie closes his eyes. The cat returns to its place on the television.
Jones is taking his pants off, says Jesse. I think his friend must be naked already. He's whispering. He wants you to suck him. He wants you to swallow him. He wants your fingers in his ass. Do you want some chocolate, he says. And you freak. You pick up the gun and point it at Jones. He laughs and says it's not loaded.
Charlie licks his lips. I pull that trigger, he says.
The gun only excites him, says Jesse. She lights a match. What do you do?
He wants me to touch him, Charlie says. He wants me to take off my clothes. His friend is drunk and laughing, he’s crazy.
What do you do? she says. She lights a match.
He's naked, Charlie says. I hit him in his mouth with the gun. I hit him again. His friend is laughing and screaming.
And you run, Jesse says. You step on a bottle. You knock on the first door you see, our door. Glass in your foot and the gun still isn't loaded.
Charlie holds the gun in both hands. He fumbles, almost dropping it. He manages to break open the cylinder. There is a bullet in one chamber. He holds it up so she can see it. He slides it back in and spins the cylinder with a flick of his finger. He snaps it back in places and raises the barrel.
He aims it at the sleeping cat.
There's no bullet, he says. Huh, smart girl?
Charlie don't, says Pete.
Charlie pulls the trigger and the bolt clicks. A dry sound, like two bones touching. Pete swings the hammer with both hands. The claw end crashes into Charlie's wrist and the gun crashes to the floor and slides close to Jesse. She laughs out loud. Charlie makes a moaning noise, sucking on his lower lip. He looks at Pete.
I'm sorry, he says.
Charlie cradles the broken wrist to his chest. Jesse lifts the gun with both hands, slowly, as if it weighs twenty pounds. She points it at Pete.
end.