I put my face up to the netty wire. Ahead, there be a spiky nonsense on the near horizon. Is like the working part of a machine, all different grays and stalks. Stand like weirdo teeth against the lighter gray of sky. Take me time to guess, these teeth be edifices. Then I sit back, sicken dizzy. Try to wonder at their size, but all confuse in distance. At last I say, ‘Goddamn, ain’t real.’
‘Ciudad de las Marias,’ Soledad say in scary pride.
I say, ‘It look like some New York.’
‘Been that,’ say Soledad. ‘In time before. Now is Marias.’
Pasha staring for himself, his face a mix of want and dislike. When he see me looking, he shrug nerviose. ‘New York. I know this.’
‘Bone, we all is knowing this.’ Sudden, I feel anxy light. I say to Soledad, ‘You bringing El Mayor this way, yo sho?’
‘He be behind.’ She heeding to the city with mouth open, like she want to eat it.
‘El Mayor go love this,’ I say. ‘Be his lifen fantasy.’
‘Is right,’ say Soledad. ‘He right.’
*
We skirt along some gristy river, floating with all brownish trash. Road here be wallen in with metal ruin, wreck concree. This pass in sudden breath, and we be in the city self.
Now buildings block us either side. Most got windows blind with wood, but some be living bright with glass. All stand close to the road, it be like driving down a housen hallway. Along, be children, walking careless at the roaden margin. Some be rifle people, but is also boys in churching suits, and girls in heely shoes and dress.
Be signs in every place, yo all these signs is sleeper old. Most words is garble: Dolphin Fish Plaza, 99 and UP. Can guess at Fabco Shoes and Kennedy Fried Chicken. But cannot tell what Blimpie Subs will be, nor Custom Image Apparel. I try reading signs to Pasha, but he make discourage face. Turn moody to his window.
In this, I get a fear bizarre, how they make me Maria here. Ain’t even normal towns. Be towers fabulous, and thousand children. No dirtfoot scratcher ruling here, is gaga in itself. Ya, I feel like sudden falling, how my Sengles far from me. I grip against the door. Push stupid, like it going to free somehow. But my sweaten palm slip helpless.
Then we come beside an open place with healthy trees and grass. I fix on this. Get frantic hope, this city ending now. We come back into woods. Yo, all been jokes. Been anything but real.
But now, I see the city grow ahead in worser heights. It plummet strange into the sky, ain’t even spy the buildings’ heads. Ya, the car go slower. Turn and come up by an edifice white and grandiose. Got twenty rows of windows, and all windows fresh with glass. A dozen rifle children waiting to its steps, beneath a canopy with golden jewlerie upon.
Car stop and ease its voice. Then the stillness feel uncanny. I wish awful that we driving on somewhere. Drive back.
But the rifle children all trot toward with interesting face. Soledad say breathless, ‘Yo we here. The Ministerio be.’
‘Here,’ say Pasha dull. He rub his face and look to me.
‘No sho.’ I look out scary.
Soledad open up her door, step out and stretch her arms. Then she open Pasha’s door. Say happy, ‘Come, we here.’
He go out, I shove along. Step out careful, like I feel the ground may still be moving. Rifle guards shift back, create a path toward the steps. Ain’t aim on us, but every hand be conscious on its gun.
Yo, Soledad start up the carpet steps, wave us behind. I follow careful, Pasha by. We walk between these guns, and Soledad go open a glassen door. Then we step inside, and all the rifles left behind. Be like a noise depart, and leave us in relieving hush.
Inside of this building be like something cut from ice and sugar. Be grandy as an evac warehouse, but all luxury clean. Got some hanging lights is like goliath dandelions of glass. Curtains be gold color, and rangen in some frozen perfectesse. The floor gleam white, the walls gleam white. Ain’t any a speck nor mark of use.
In the roomen center, be a statue made in blackish stone. Show a girlish child, is swathen like she wearing Army godclothes. She sit with knees apart, and across her lap, a naked man be lain. He straggle sick. Girl look down with interest, like she think of eating him.
By this statue, stand five children. All wear dresses, though they boys. The dresses black the same, their skirts be longish to the floor. One child wear a red cravat, tie nett around his waist. Its end drain simple to his knee. Yo, all these children look up as we come. Their mouths false into smiles.
Soledad walk to the redwaist child with eagering step. Crouch graciose and kiss his hand. Then she polite them all. Her shoulders cringing, all herself be like a pologetic hound. Blackdress children smiling to her voice, while they inspect me careful. Ain’t even notice Pasha much, their need be on Ice Cream Unworthy. Feel they think to eat me, like the statue girl. They scout my meat.
Some minutes, Soledad speak to the redwaist child. Her voice come telligent attention, like she giving news. Among her Panish noise, appear some words like Sengle, Massa, Lowell mill. These pass like flashing birds, and then she Panish on the same. Yo, all this time, the rifle guards be staring through the glass behind. Somehow, is like they growing there. Their bad attention weigh my nerves.
Then sudden, the redwaist child speak sharp. Soledad hush, and crouch herself. All the blackdress children touch their palms together, like an unsound clap. They turn from her and wander by.
She come hasty to us, all her body bright with joy. Say, ‘This been Pedro, apostle of Inúd burrow. All be right, you going to see. Now, Ice, you come, we got to parley.’
I look to Pasha, but Soledad say quick, ‘Nay, Pasha going separate.’
‘Foo separate,’ I say. ‘Pasha going to know whatever I know.’
‘Ain’t secrets,’ she say hasty. ‘Be your questioning. Is needful so. They keep him well, ain’t nothing harm. Must be.’
‘If you saying, got no choice, then say this.’
She make a nervy grimace. ‘Is right. I only hoping, be without no ugliness.’
‘No choice,’ say Pasha low. ‘Is normal.’
I start to cavil, but Pasha nay his hand. He grimace back toward the door – the rifle children stood outside. Yo, as I looking, Soledad yell up some Panish to them. Door open, and they stamping in. Then Soledad grip my arm. Only see a flashing glimpse, how Pasha watching misery, guards gathern to him silent weird, as she draw me away.
We go through some window doors into a jumbo room. Here the ceiling all is glass, shape graciose with broidery metal. Walls be butterish in color. Got some prettieuse stalks in honey stone up to the roof.
At a bureau by the farther wall, stand two tennish children. Their heads is shaven to the shine. Wear dresses like the others, but these be brown. Both look to me with biggen eyes, then turn back guilty to the bureau.
Center to this room, a longish table wait. Be gleaming wood, and to this table, any chairs is set. They all the same, with seats of golden cloth.
Soledad bring me to the table’s end, the sergeant place can be. Tap on its chair, and I sit down discourage. Feel conscience for my journey grime, how I be the only dirt. Soledad pull a chair herself and sit. In this showing light, her cheekbone face look raw bewept.
‘Guess your people found you,’ I say thin.
She smile pologetic. ‘Nay, I finding them. Known them from their trash, gone looking. Took all hours of hunt. Ain’t mostly slept.’
‘Nor myself. We thought you taken by they Armies. Pasha and me come out for you.’
‘Nay, I gone through the Armies.’ She laugh nervy. ‘On this horse. They come yelling, but I gallop on. They never known was me, can guess.’
‘They learning this.’ My voice gone rough. I put my palms down to my jeans.
‘Can leave that,’ Soledad say, breathless low. ‘We got no time.’
‘Nay, how my Sengles going to be? And Driver? You never thinking this? They terrify, and–’
‘Shoo, your Sengles bringing here. All bringing here.’
‘You take us all?’ My voice break high. ‘Ain’t to believe. Goddamn, cannot!’
‘Nay, heed!’ Her eyes go panic. ‘Got to do this questioning right, or you ain’t safe. Ain’t they be safe.’
‘Is prettieuse, ain’t safe! Been safe before your insect deeds.’
‘Ice, all it been,’ she say in beggar voice. ‘Found my people, then I saying natural, you got a Jesus. Going to say. They seeking such, all years. Yo, the old Maria dying. Someone got to rule the city.’ Her face go sharper, like she proven point, cannot be argument.
I scoff breath. ‘So be Maria self. Ain’t – nay, nor Pasha in this. Shee your goddamn people.’
‘Ice, ain’t heeding! Got to heed. You ain’t do right, you dying here!’
‘I dying why? Ain’t be no sense!’
‘Trying to tell!’ Her voice go high in nerves. ‘You losing time!’
My heart kick backward in my chest. I touch the knee hole on my jeans. Find a straggling thread, and wind this thread around a finger tense. ‘Ya, say your words. I heed.’
She clutch her hands together on the table. ‘Apostles going to talk to you. Ask questions of yourself.’
‘What apostles? Ain’t be mine?’
‘Nay, sure. The old apostles. Is like a test, if you be bone Maria. I learn this, when I want to be Maria, in time before.’
Want to say, I ain’t be bone Maria. All is madness. But I look on her blooden hand again and sigh my breath. ‘They ask me questions. So?’
‘Ya, I tell how you must answer.’
‘Ain’t going to answer truth?’ I grimace, feel tired in my mouth.
‘Nay, be matters … complicate.’
‘Sure, I be a Sengle. Lying ain’t no work to me.’
‘Be bone.’ She smile encouraging. ‘Ya, most major that they ask, is war. How you feel to wars.’
‘You got some war?’
She wave a hand, like ridding this needless question. ‘What you saying – war be evil, but is sometimes needful. Evil, but is sometimes needful.’
I look at the browndress tens. They writing something on some cards. ‘Ain’t an answer, ya?’
‘Right, you seeing. Cannot answer. They going to try and make you answer. All you say: War be evil, but is sometimes needful.’
I sigh. ‘War, be evil work. But is sometimes needful.’
‘Bone.’ She breathe out rough. ‘Second matter. Be anything you ain’t comprehend, say: Must discuss this with the church. Ain’t answer nothing, say the church discuss this.’
‘Must discuss this with the church.’
‘Next matter. They marrying here in twos. Ain’t get no Christing flocks of wives. One wife, one male. Like ducks. You see this?’
‘Marry like ducks. Two children only.’
‘Keep this clear. And tell them Sengles doing so.’
‘Foo, Sengles do no marrying.’
‘Ice, told you. Cannot–’
‘Bone, we marry honest. Be no fickle people, Sengles.’ Here, I laugh in nerves, but Soledad look harsh severe.
‘Also, preventing enfants be an evil.’
‘So sex be always bone?’
‘Nay, shee.’ She startle fresh at this. ‘Be only bone when children marry. Evil if they ain’t. Learn this well.’
‘But when they marry, must do sex?’
‘Ain’t this.’ She smile unhappy. ‘There be a science for preventing enfants. Science they got. Is evil.’
‘How this science work?’
She make a ridding gesture. ‘Only must know, is always evil.’
Ain’t comprehend for nothing, but I nod. Look skitty at the window doors. The blackdress children multiply there. Now it be a flickering wall of black behind the glass. ‘How it be, if I ain’t question well? Can leave?’
‘You question well. Ain’t fearing this.’
‘Nay, what will be? You answer.’
‘Ice, ain’t stand your proof, this meaning you be …’ She pause, her scar face work in thought. ‘Is like taboo. You be a false Maria. Mean, you evil.’
‘So I be evil. Got good company in this.’
‘Nay, then you die.’ She smile into her scars. ‘When your proof become, you die.’
I feel tired anger coming through my fear. ‘I got no wants to be Maria, simper. Tell them now.’
‘Nay.’ She hold her hand up anxy. ‘You die the same for this.’
‘For what? Damn, ain’t no sense.’
‘Ice, you found a Jesus. Be Maria, or be false Maria. Ain’t no other thing.’
‘So I be false. You telling them.’
‘Nay, false Maria need to die. Been said!’
‘Is normal,’ I say in disgust. ‘You be some ugly goods, this people. Why you brought us here? Ain’t need to put me in this murder.’
She take her breath. ‘Ain’t going to be. You heed me, all be bone.’
‘I heeding. Got no choice, is normal. Pasha right in all.’
My mind feel skiddy. Try to think, what answers she been given. I wind my finger in my jeans thread, thinking back until is plain. Then I say, ‘Go on, I heed.’
‘These be your major questions. Comprehend?’
‘Be decision, whether I comprehend. Must discuss this with the church. All I know, we must get enfants, no preventing this. And must marry a duck, no other way.’
‘Ain’t–’
‘I know. Was joke.’
‘Bone. Be other matter.’ Her eyes skew nervy to the glassen doors. ‘Pasha.’
I swear underbreath. ‘Here it be. Pasha right. Goddamn.’
She grit her jaw, can see she thinking desperate. ‘Get your questioning, they going to ask you on him. Truth, can keep him.’
‘Keep?’
‘Can keep him by. But this disapprove. Only one Maria kept her Jesus, and was every trouble. Most times … is done like in the Christing story. Jesus die.’
My heart narrow harsh. ‘My Pasha do no trouble. Give him cigarettes, he easy.’
‘Nay, be problems. Maria and Jesus both is god.’
I want to scoff, how any child believe that I be god. That any snot-nose child be god. But I only say, ‘We god together. Be no problems.’
Unhappy growing in her face, most like she going to cry. ‘They ain’t approve this. Can fail your proof for this alone. Then Pasha kilt with you. Ain’t be no help.’
‘But it been done before?’
‘Ice Cream. Be problems without this.’
‘I asking, be some chance?’
‘Ya.’ She pinch her mouth. ‘They desperate well, or you ain’t been in question.’
‘Desperate, right. Relief to know, they ain’t be imbeciles entire.’
‘Nay, ain’t imbeciles none.’ She look grim, like this be mally news.
A minute, we sit in angry quiet. I watch upon the browndress tens. They working fretful, like they fear us. Duck their heads and whispern. In this, it notice, these be girlish children, shaven females. Surprise misgive in me, and I scarce be listening when Soledad speak.
‘Ice Cream. Pasha be a sleeper.’ Her voice come slow precaire.
I frown to her. Feel something queery in this, like the shaven girls. ‘Sleeper, shee. He be a moron roo.’
‘You friending with him, sure I know. But sleepers, they ain’t be like us.’
‘What difference this will make? You ain’t like me, neither. Will say, this sleeper try to save yourself this morning. This same day.’
‘Nay, they sleepers all be slavers. In Time Before, they slavers. Every history. Ain’t like us.’
I say loud, ‘And how they also Jesus, wonder this.’
‘Be more in this than you can know! You think before …’ She swallow back her noise and say low, ‘Think.’
‘Nay,’ I say cold. ‘You think how this sleeper gone to save you. This morning, gone and risk himself.’
‘Ain’t listening right.’
‘Yo heed. They kill my Sengles also? Kill all Massa children, for some moron superstitio
n?’
‘Nay,’ she say in sobben voice. ‘But, Ice, it–’
‘All I need to hear. We done.’
‘Ice, ain’t for myself. Is needful.’ Then she flinch, ware to the window doors. ‘You think. I got to leave you now. Goddamn, was other matters.’ She skit to her feet. Give me one final seeking look, and smile her pinchen way. Then she go to the window doors. Open them with careful softness, and she slip away.
I sit back weak. Be longing for my good Kalash, my Pasha. Can wish I sleeping better yesternight. Feel white inside my head. Try thinking of these answers, but now Soledad be gone, they seem insanities no child believe.
Then a browndress ten come toward. Got jutting ears, show out peculiar with her shaven head. She look skitty to myself, then start around the table. Set cards down, one to each seat. Check at a paper as she go. I stand up jittery and go behind. Cards going so: Juan de Quinta, Felipe de Metropolitano, Simón Zelote de Loisaida. Come to one that say Pedro de Inúd, and I get a kindling notion. First part be an apostle’s name, can guess. The other be their burrow. Girl finish with the cards and dabbit by, spy curiose at me.
‘Sister,’ I say, ‘you need that paper?’
She startle like it been the table self that spoken words. A moment, I think she cannot comprehend. Talk Panish like the rest.
But she lower eyes and muttern, ‘No.’
‘Be gratty, I can have it.’
She look at it doubting. ‘You want this?’
‘Got these names, I guess? Is names?’
She nod slow. In this, it notice, her shaven head got drawings on. Is like the drawings on the rifle children’s hands. Blue particular on her head, shape like spiken flowers. Even her jutting ears got petty lines.
She bolden herself and reach the paper to me, smiling bashful. Like I expect, it got the table drawn, with each name set in place. At table’s head, be writ, Maria Postulante.
The ten say whispern, ‘You go for Maria?’
I take unliking breath. ‘Ya, guess I do.’
She smile again, scratch at her shiny head. Look at the other ten with priding eyes. Other ten look back, is jalousie in her pet face. This a tallish child, is catten prettieuse, even in baldness.
The Country of Ice Cream Star Page 28