Core. Kassten Alonso
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Everybody was crowded round. Pastor Fritz in his white robe said Almighty God Our Father, we commend unto Thy everlasting mercy the souls of our brother and sister, our friends.
He looked up at Roxy. Still she was crying. He had Roxy’s hand. Roxy’s fingernails was painted black. The other day he watched cartoons and Roxy’s door opened. Roxy walked down the hall to the bathroom. She wore a tee shirt and her undies. He could see Roxy’s butt. He rubbed his thing under the blanket.
Pastor Fritz said Unto Him that loved us and washed us from our sins in His own blood, and hath made us kings and priests unto God and His Father. To Him be glory and domination forever and ever. Amen.
Amen, everybody said. A man lifted a shovel full of dirt. Pastor Fritz took a handful and shook the dirt over each hole. People cried.
Grandma and Chuck and Rob took they turns with the shovel. They tossed the dirt into each hole like Pastor Fritz. Roxy pinched some dirt with her fingers. Her dress was short and showed her legs. His thing hurt all over again. He saw Roxy’s eyes frown and Roxy’s mouth wide open in the pink sun. Roxy’s arms hugged him and her lips kissed him. Then Roxy’s hands moved down to his butt. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh.
The dirt was cold and gritty in his hands. He turned and lifted his arms up over his head. He stared down at the boxes in the holes. He wondered how Ma and Pa would get out, and when they was coming home.
27
SHADOWS BODIES THRASHING WHEAT. SHADOWS BODIES weaved from sheaves, bodies rolled upon the threshing floor. Hulls and chaff and muddy heels. The drift of the flail dance. The echo of harvest drum. Dead offerings tossed to murky pond water.
He erupted from the bath. He gasped the nails and tacks and ground glass in his lungs. His hand slipped from under him He bashed his mouth on the tub he fell back in the water. He beat the tub with his elbows and floundered up again. Water slapped the tub, slopped over the sides. Water stung his nose and eyes. He Newborn brayed and sobbed for air.
Well I met this chick a couple weeks back, Cam had said. I don’t know if I told you.
No.
Yeah. She’s coming to the party tonight, Cam had said. Equinox, man.
He coughed at the light bulb in the stained ceiling. He coughed and rolled his body out the tub. His left knee thumped on the floor he fell over on his hip. Water all around him. Red spots adrift in his eyes.
But you know man me and the band’s playing tonight Cam had said Which means I ain’t going to be that great a date to this chick, so.
He lay beside the tub and rubbed his mouth. His heart bubbled in his chest. Newborns wanted only darkness, wet. Newborns did not want to be dangled in the light. Didn’t Cam know this of all things?
He sat up and pushed forward onto his knees. He grabbed the sink he pulled himself to his feet. He reached for a bath towel and wrapped and tucked the rough cloth around his waist. His clothing another wet heap on the scuffed linoleum. He kicked the clothing aside and hawked and spat in the sink. Red spray on yellowed enamel.
Come on man, Cam had said, It’d totally lack for her to be there by herself. Sure she knows some people but. But since you promised you’d go anyway I figured you could maybe be my stand in dig? Fetch her beers and ears a corn and shit. Tell her what a great motherfucker I am.
He stared from the mirror. He ran a hand through his hair. Plaster. Face streaked wet with plaster. He pulled down his lower lip. Blood seeped between his teeth. Blood stained his eyes. Shadows rustled in his eyes. Shadows clutched of sweat and dust. Shadows black flails beat out grains on the threshing floor. Had it all been a dream? Or something else?
I told you I didn’t want to stay too long, he had said. Maybe you should find yourself another babysitter.
Cam had said Look man I know what you’re thinking but believe me this chick ain’t my usual. Not by a fucking long shot. Check it out she dyes her hair black not blonde. Cam had laughed. Come on man. You’d be doing me a real big flavor.
He twisted the hot water tap. Brown water turned red turned clear. Water could wash blood down the sink. But water could never get warm enough. He reached for the toothbrush the rolled up tube of paste. He squeezed a blue worm of paste onto the frayed bristles. Saw his face, asleep and dreaming under the water. Eyes open under the water. And mouth wide and drowning.
He shook his head. He leaned over the sink and brushed his teeth. Plaster stained the backs of his hands. The way Cam just smiled at him and said nothing. The way Cam smiled because Cam liked this game because Cam always won. He spat pink foam in the sink. He dipped his mouth in the stream of tepid water. He spat again and rinsed his brush and said, You’re such an asshole, Cam.
So you’ll be my stunt double tonight? Cam said.
He waved the toothbrush at Cam in the mirror. Just promise me this isn’t some kind of set up, he said.
Cam laughed. I know you’re going to have a good time man. And I bet you get a kick out a this chick. I’ll drop her off later tonight.
Can’t wait, he said.
HAIR DYED BLACK. JUST COVERED HER EARS. METAL BARRETTES pulled the bangs off her face. Cutoffs and green horn rims and plaid shirt knotted to show her pale belly. She had big legs and big hips, her breasts not big but big enough.
He wiped his hands on a towel. The two of them watched Cam’s jeep bounce away up the old fire road. The girl waved after. He looked down at his high tops. He kicked a splinter of wood. Fucking Cam.
He said, Want a beer?
She shrugged. Why not, she said.
Got some in the fridge, in the, in the studio. In here. He stepped aside so she could enter the tin outbuilding.
She turned in place to take in the room. This is cute, she said. He moved past her on the left, toward the mini fridge beneath the wedging table. He tossed the towel on the table and kneeled and said, Well. I’m not sure how cute this is, but it does the job.
So Cameron says you do like, ceramics, she said.
Hiss when he twisted the cap off a bottle. He handed the bottle to her. Among other things, he said. He opened a second bottle and rattled the caps in his fist. Sculpture mostly. Stone, plaster. Clay. Wood every now and then. And sure, ceramic. Tiles. That’s why I put the kiln in.
You sell any of this stuff? she said, and took a drink.
Just the tiles, he said. To pay the bills. He sat back against the wedging table. He sipped his beer.
She leaned against the large worktable across from him and looked around. Could use a little decor, she said.
Too distracting.
The girl shrugged. A friend of mine David has a studio downtown not so full-blown as this place yet but he does have a press for prints and woodcuts and shit.
I’ve always СКАЧАТЬ