Sometimes Rachel
chapter 6 - darkness visible
Zoe waits for me at the apartment. Dark smile when I come through the door. She wears a black bikini top and a white cotton skirt, soft and transparent as a puff of smoke around her thighs. I mutter hello and go directly to the bathroom, wash the stink from my hands and face. When I come out I see that Henry too is dressed to go out. He wears army green overalls and a Batman t-shirt. I look around. There's a picnic basket on the table, a blue blanket. Two baseball gloves. A bottle of wine.
Are you hungry? she says.
Starving.
Good, she says. I thought we’d have a picnic.
Okay. Where do you want to go?
To the river, she says. Maybe the sun will come out.
I would surely violate some law of physics if I returned with my sister to the same spot where I entertained a whore less than an hour ago, and possibly burst into flames. So I drive to Martyrs Park, a small oasis of green high on the bluffs overlooking the river. The park was named for those who died while tending victims of the yellow fever epidemic that wiped out half the city in 1879. Zoe walks slowly toward the bluff’s edge, Henry trailing along beside her. I carry the picnic gear, Grinch trotting beside me. I glance up at the memorial, a looming sculpture in black iron of bodies narrow and grotesque in a mass grave. Together Zoe and I spread a blanket in a patch of grass.. The sky is white with clouds. The heat is almost visible.
In the distance a family plays some kind of game, sort of like kickball. The father is a fat man in short pants. He kicks the ball impossibly far and the kids chase it. The mother sits in a folding chair. Along the concrete path, two boys are training a pit bull. They hold a broomstick high between their naked chests. The dog hangs there, motionless with jaws locked. He wears a chest harness. One boy jabs at him with a screwdriver, trying to make him flinch. Zoe tosses me a glove and I move back a few yards. She gives Henry something to play with. He flails around on the blanket while Zoe and I just play catch, the way we did when we were kids. The ball flashing back and forth straight as a rope. The slap of leather. Grinch runs in a circle, barking. I tell Zoe she has a good arm for a woman. She throws the ball harder.
The pit bull hangs like a stone between the two boys.
Grinch is watchful as Zoe unpacks the food. Henry yanks viciously on his tail. The dog growls but never shows his teeth. I give Henry the baseball, hoping to distract him. He promptly throws it high in the air, and it thumps the dirt at his feet. Zoe takes the ball away from him.
It might land on his head, she says.
That’s the idea, I say.
Very funny.
I have a terrible hunger and quickly destroy two turkey sandwiches and an apple. Then a piece of lemon pie, wash it down with sweet iced coffee from the thermos. Zoe eats a handful of grapes. She opens the wine, asks if I mind her drinking.
No, I say.
Henry smears his sandwich in the dirt. I extract it from his sticky fingers and toss it to the dog. Grinch swallows it whole, gagging on the bread. I feel bloated and sit back to smoke.
Zoe drinks half the bottle of wine.
She takes off her skirt, unfastens the strap of her bikini. She lies on her stomach in the gray sun. Grinch goes to sleep. I sit beside him, my hand on his ribs. I can feels the dog’s heart thumping, his breath going in and out. Henry crawls a few feet away. He pulls the head off a dandelion and eats it. A wasp hovers nearby and I wonder idly if it will sting the boy. I look at Zoe. Her feet are smooth and curved. Her long legs are pale against the blue blanket. She reaches back with a finger to adjust her bikini bottom. Her ass is round and firm as a peach. I look away, at the boys with the pit bull. They lower him to the ground, wrestling the stick out of his mouth. They strap a muzzle over his face. One boy clips a chain to the harness, holding on with clenched fists. The other boy puts on black motorcycle gloves. Over and over he slaps the dog's face with the flat of his hand.
Zoe and I were five and six the last time we took a bath together. Mother sat on the toilet, a cigarette in hand, one leg crossed over the other. Smoke twisting blue from her lips. She looked up from her magazine and warned us not to splash. The phone rang and she went to answer it. I immediately peed in the water. Zoe hollered and tried to kick me. Mother thumped the wall with the heel of her hand. We held our breath and went silent so she wouldn’t come back. Bored, I began flicking my little dick back and forth and soon it was hard. The water was shallow. Zoe watching me, curious. She moved closer and lowered her head to examine my thing. It looks silly, she said. She leaned closer and took it in her mouth and I became very still. The water around us was like glass. She sucked at it like it was her thumb. I was scared and hot. I saw black flowers in my head, then Zoe spat out my dick and claimed it was like having a worm in her mouth.
I smoke cigarettes in the shadow of the martyrs until Zoe wakes up. She asks me to refasten her bikini top. Even though there has been no sun, her back is burned. It's almost dusk, the sky is edged with purple. The sky looks like a bruise. The park is deserted. Across the river the clouds are stretched and black. Henry is curled up like a bug, snoring on the blanket. Grinch beside him.
How long was I sleeping?
Maybe an hour, I say.
What were you doing?
Nothing, I say. Thinking.
Why do you look guilty?
I’m just thinking.
Zoe reaches for the wine and I throw a stick for Grinch. Zoe smiles at me and I lean to kiss her, to taste the wine on her mouth. She's drunk and kisses me harder than she might otherwise. Her tongue darts into my mouth and I remember. We taught each other to kiss like that, when we were in junior high. She stops and pulls away.
We should be careful, she says.
Of what.
She takes one of my cigarettes and I light it for her.
It's not normal, she says.
I don't care.
Still, she says. It scares me a little.
Do you like it?
Sometimes. She blows smoke.
Grinch stands at the edge of the blanket, watching us.
Dark when we get home. There are three messages on the machine from Owen. I am too tired to care. Zoe puts Henry on the couch. He doesn’t wake. I sprawl on the floor, drained by the heat. Zoe lies down beside me and promptly passes out, her lips red with wine. I carry her to bed and undress her. Zoe is naked on her back. Her hair falling loose against the white pillow. Her skin is burned, red with gold. She's beautiful and I cover her with a sheet. I take off my clothes. I remember the messages from Owen and go to make sure the doors and windows are locked. I unplug the answering machine and leave Henry sleeping on the couch with the dog. I crawl into Zoe’s bed without touching her.
I don’t remember falling asleep. The dark is blue and endless and I am violently awake. My skull pulses, like I have a fever. Zoe beside me. She hovers between sleep and waking, her hand moving fierce between her thighs. She’s so wet I can smell her. And I’m hard in my own hand, my skin aching. Zoe mumbles and moves her legs further apart and I am dying to be inside her. She moves her hips, pulsing faster and faster against her own hand. She cries herself awake, her orgasm rocks the bed. Her body slows and finally stops, and she trembles as I come on her belly.
In the morning Zoe doesn't want to talk about it. She smokes one cigarette after another. Henry cries like a machine. I start a pot of coffee. There isn't any cream. Zoe likes cream with coffee and I offer to go get some. She shakes her head.
Zoe, I say.
She watches her cigarette burn. The telephone rings.
I'm going out with Henry, she says. I'll be gone all morning.
Where? I say.
I have to see someone.
The telephone still rings.
Where are you going? I say.
I want you to be gone when I get back, she says.
The telephone still rings.
What? I say.
This isn’t healthy, she says.
Zoe, please.
We aren’t a family, she says. Her voice breaks.
The telephone rings. Close my eyes and try to feel something. Eleven times the phone rings and finally I reach for it.
Don’t, she says.
I get in my car and just drive around. The radio is working for once. I turn it up so loud it sounds like something on fire. Grinch rides in the back seat, worried. As if he did something wrong. I scan the street, looking for the whore with red hair. Irrational, I know. But I feel like this is her fault and I want to do something to her.
Eventually I give up. I stop at the bank. I wait in line to get a balance statement from the machine. It looks like I gave most of my money to Rachel. There is barely enough left to pay the rent and eat for a few days. I withdraw it all. Tell myself I need to find Owen. He doesn’t know it, but he’s not going to bother Zoe anymore. I’ll tell him Sally left town, I’ll make something up. She took the train to New Orleans. It might even make sense. She lived down there for a while. She danced in some shitty club. Owen will believe me. I’ll give him some money for the train, enough to get him there. I steer myself to the Paris Theater. The same black guy is behind the counter. He nods, as if he recognizes me. His eyes penetrate, soft as a whisper.
Do you remember me? I say.
He grunts and touches himself. The popcorn smells like hair.
Is that popcorn fresh?
He laughs. Never. Not since I been here.
Does anyone ever eat it?
Only your friend. Freaky white boy. Extra butter.
Have you seen him?
Not today. But it’s still early.
I consider going to the zoo. I imagine Owen wandering around, stoned. Fearful of the snakes and muttering to himself. Eating licorice and chewing his lips. Across the street is a liquor store. Eleven in the morning, they’ve just opened. I walk in and take a bottle of vodka from the freezer. It's going to be a hot day. I give the clerk twelve dollars. Folded in my wallet is Rachel's note. Damp with sweat and torn. I go back to the car. Sit in the driver’s seat with the windows rolled up. I talk to Grinch. I tell him we’re waiting for Owen, that the vodka is for him. The bottle is white with frost. I tell Grinch it’s a birthday present. To make Owen trust me. Then we can fucking be friends. The dog growls in his sleep. I unfold the note. Rachel’s handwriting is cramped and jagged. The ink has bled and most of the words are lost.
I don’t hate her sexy good mother animals are good mothers no emotion mother lion ate two of her cubs were sick Henry I wanted you Josephine said only she would have you beautiful girl I make you sick you fuck me you hate me accident I was excited so much blood kill someone because it's silly don’t be surprised if you see me be glad Sally
sometimes, Rachel.