Why the Tree Loves the Axe. Jim Lewis

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СКАЧАТЬ I went on my way to Kansas City, and when I got there I stopped in a church and set a priest to suffering for sex, so that he … well, you’ll be able to read all about it in a couple of weeks.

      He stopped to consider the damage he’d done. It was a lot of work, he said. I’m tired out. So you may ask, Why do I do it? Well, I’ll tell you. I like the colors. I like the sound it makes. I like the smell. I like what it makes me think. I’m the Adversary, he said, adjusting his tie and smoothing down the front of his shirt with his hands. I’m an appalling old man. He stopped and made a stage gesture of defiance. No, they cannot touch me for coining; I am the king himself. He fixed me with a delighted look…

      I was just sitting there listening to the old man go on about his aged dreams of revenge and mayhem; of course I didn’t believe for a second that he had done all he claimed, I didn’t believe in him. But he didn’t care and he wasn’t done. As for you, he went on, and before I could prepare myself, he was talking about me. I see you coming around, he said. I can smell you under your clothes, I can hear your heart bumping against your chest. Forty years ago I would have fucked you. I know what you want…

      There was mist sneaking against the window. I didn’t believe him, but my skin began to freeze, my mouth was full, and I could feel my tongue search for a place to rest. I thought, forty years ago I would have let you. Billy went on: You want more of everything. More love. More fun. He was daring me to resist him, dangling feathers of fire before my face, I could feel their flames. Fame! Sex! Beauty! Billy said. I flinched and blinked. Confess, he demanded. You’re greedy. For a long moment I couldn’t remember how to start a sentence, I couldn’t answer, and he smiled. That’s good enough, he said. A glutton. Good. I can help you rise up. Now what can you do for me?

      I was about to answer him when an alarm began to sound softly in the hallway, a high beeping noise that was meant to alert the staff without waking the residents. I got dumbly to my feet and for a moment we stood there, Billy and I, far away on our cold half-lit planet. But the summons went on, and at last I broke from his gaze.

      Stay, he said, his voice at once commanding, tempting, and plaintive. We’re just getting started. Don’t go.

      I have to go.

      Don’t go, he said again, and the tone of supplication was much clearer. She’s dead.

      I stared into his face to see what he wanted. He wanted to live forever, and failing that, he wanted me to obey him. I wanted to study him, but I had to go see what the alarm was about.

      It was Judith, her heart had suddenly stopped. When I reached her room I found two nurses and Dr. Selzer, who looked up at me briefly and blindly and then went back to massaging her chest. Her flesh was as colorless, soft, and smooth as dough, and it put up no resistance to his pushing; his hands had no spark, there was no life, and his breath came more and more violently. His face began to redden, and after a few minutes had passed he stopped, abruptly started again, and stopped, dropping his hands to his sides and gasping for air. He wouldn’t look at anyone, and when he spoke it was to an audience of numinous peers. All right, he said softly, and he pushed his glasses up on his nose, backed away from the bed, and walked out of the room, leaving the nurses and myself to rearrange the woman’s nightgown and raise the rumpled sheets over her face.

      Everything in Eden View was still. Either there was peace in the valley, or a fear so deep as to quiet all motion. I hadn’t done anything wrong, but I was ashamed of myself, and I worked hard and kept my eyes lowered for the remainder of the night. Already I missed Judith, without even trying; I missed her body, I missed her tuneless and unfathomable voice, and when my shift was over I discovered that I didn’t want to go home after all; I suppose I hoped that if I stayed it would be sign enough to someone that I hated Death, so I sat in the staff lounge and read a copy of the afternoon newspaper that had been left on one of the tables.

      On the front page there was a picture of a young dark-skinned man, a graduation photograph from one of the local high schools. He was gazing out at the city, his eyes glazed with defiant tears. Everyone called him Domino, because he was so good at the game; and everyone was looking for him. The police said that he’d been dealing drugs, but they hadn’t found a way to arrest him until he’d shot a pair of his competitors dead. They wanted him for that, so they gathered themselves together and surrounded the building where he lived; then they sneaked up the stairwell and broke through his door. He was waiting in the bedroom, and in the battle that followed he fired four bullets, hit three policemen, and then vanished down a fire escape. Below the article there was a diagram of the apartment, marked with star-shaped explosions where his shots had hit, and an arrow out the window where he’d left, wearing only sweatpants and a pair of sneakers. No one knew how he’d gotten away; the mayor was angry, and the police were embarrassed.

      They believed that he was hiding somewhere in Green River, but they had no idea where. They’d sent people to bully his relatives, they’d raided bars and nightclubs, but they hadn’t found him. They were going door to door; there were cruisers on every corner and helicopters constantly cutting in the hot sky; they were taking people right off the streets. There was talk of a curfew. A minister from the Baptist church called a press conference to complain, and the police chief held his own to ask for cooperation from the community.

      I sat in the lounge and thought the night was all wrong; and I stretched out on the couch and slept fitfully until dawn the next day, when the administrator found me, woke me, and made me go home.

      Bonnie knew a man from her bar, a regular named Adam, whom I’d met very briefly one night when I’d gone by to sit with her. He was getting married and she arranged it so that I was invited. I didn’t know him very well, I didn’t know his bride at all, and I didn’t want to go to a wedding. A wedding! I didn’t want to go. But Bonnie said, Come on, it could be fun. You don’t have to meet anyone, you don’t have to talk to anyone. You just need to wear some nice clothes. When was the last time you put on a nice dress and made up your face? I made a skeptical noise. She squinched her features and said, Do it for me? I don’t want to go alone.

      I don’t have anything to wear, I said. I lost all my good clothes in the crash.

      I have a dress, if you want, she insisted. I’ll come over. It’ll fit. It’s a beautiful thing. All right?

      I could think of a thousand better ways to spend a Saturday afternoon, but I knew she was relying on me to keep her company. O.K., I said.

      She was right about the dress: It was an emerald green raw silk shift, a simple sleeveless thing with a scooped neck, but the whole of art was lying in it, cherubs in the shadows and chambermaids looking on. I stood before her mirror and smoothed it down my waist, and glimmers of light flushed down the front. You wear some sling-back sandals, said Bonnie, and you’ll look perfect.—And here. She held out four little pills in her hand; two were small and white, one was white and larger, and one was pale blue. Take these; they’ll make the whole afternoon a lot better. Water. Where do you keep the cups? She went rummaging through the shelves above my kitchen sink.

      Where do they come from? I asked.

      This guy came in the bar with them, traded me for a few drinks.

      Do you know what they do?

      I don’t know exactly what they are, but he looked like he was having a good time. She turned her face away and gulped the pills down. I wanted to follow her, so I felt mine in my mouth for a second or two and then tipped my head back and let them fall into the back of my mouth; and just as I felt them pass down my throat, I saw a white flash of light. Oh, God, I thought, that was quick. But when I lowered my head again I saw Bonnie holding her camera in her hands, looking at it quizzically as the motor advanced the film.

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