apple tree from neglect, because nobody would pick me. Even the bugs wouldn't eat me. I am as ugly and messed up as an iguana stuck in a belt sander. I have never even been kissed by a boy. I have accepted the fact that I will be forever and ever alone. Nothing for Eva, for Eva’ afta’.” She paused again, trying to perhaps move the old woman with how she played with and made fun of her own name. Still no reaction. “The day that I get a boyfriend is the day that I finally begin to believe in God. So, yeah, I don't believe you.”
“You’re perfect,” the old woman said with a wry smile. She looked down at the tote bag that Eva carried. “I see you brought the robe. Good. Your training is in the next room. Go on in.”
Eva had been shaking a bit. Who did this old woman – this Karyan Bogdonia or whomever - think she was, assuming all that she had assumed? Eva felt like she was being manipulated. She had just blurted out all of her misfortune to this strange judgmental woman from some strange foreign country. Eva did not like being embarrassed. But suddenly it seemed that the old woman’s demeanor had somehow disarmed her of that. Still, Eva held onto her anger, defiant. She grabbed her tote bag. “I will be a helper only,” Eva said. She went for the door, and then turned to the old woman before going through. “When do I get paid?” Eva asked.
“After the event,” the old woman said. “Don’t worry about a thing. It’ll be an easy $300, unless you choose to be a client instead of a helper.”
“A client?” Eva asked. She hadn’t considered that. “How much does that cost? Not that I would do such a thing. I’m just asking.”
The old woman gave a little giggle. “You won’t have to worry about that too much, now will you. You will be ‘for-Eva’ alone, right?”
Eva thought about it. “You said you could find …”
Karyan Bogdanian took a long drag on her cigarette and let it all out. The whole tiny office had taken on a slight haze from the room’s only smoker. The old woman then cleared her throat and said, “One who becomes a client must act first during the event. One must seize the specimen and take it to the small island with the trees. We will do the rest.”
That didn’t make any sense.
The specimen, Eva pondered.
Eva hadn’t been planning on becoming a client of any sort. She was just looking for some extra money, some extra scratch so that she could buy a new and improved phone. But, wouldn’t it be useful for the job to know what being a client entailed? So Eva thought about what it would be like to be a client for this, such a strange dating service, all while telling herself that she was just here to make the money. She would be a helper only, not a client. The old woman wouldn’t tell her anything more. This old leathery skinned Karyan woman certainly would not be making her decisions for her. The old woman sent Eva through the interior door, and then closed the door behind her.
In the second room sat nineteen other women, all sitting in a circle on cheap metal and plastic chairs. At the back of the room was a giant chalkboard not unlike a chalkboard that someone might see in a school classroom. On the chalkboard, written in large lettering, were the words: “Do not touch the specimen. It is for the chosen. If you touch the specimen, you will not be paid.”
Her mind was back at the river again, and at the sound of the passing water.
The air smelled of rain. Eva liked the smell of rain. Rain was calming. She took another deep breath.
The women beside her began to chant, bringing Eva further out from her memories. “Frogs of the dark river black, come back, come back. Frogs of the dark river black, come back. Frogs of the dark river black come back, come back. Frogs of the dark river black, come back.” She was supposed to do the same, so she joined in. “Frogs of the dark river black,” she said softly, afraid that the others might hear her voice, even though they were saying the same. “Come back. Come back. Frogs of the dark river black, come back.”
In the starlight, the specimen looked like nothing more than a shadow on the boulder. Her eyes were drawn to it again. Its back glistened in the light from the stars. Here and there, when it breathed, the points of light on its back moved with it. Eva found herself searching for its eyes in the shadows as she chanted along with the other young women. “Frogs of the dark river black, come back, come back,” she whispered.
“We can find you a boyfriend,” said that wretched old voice in her head, again, the voice of that old woman, that strange old woman who was likely laughing her ass off at the twenty of them. Eva could almost see the smoke rings dancing around the old woman’s head, just as they had done when she had been in that miserable office.
This was all just an elaborate joke. Eva was sure of it.
Eva half expected some hidden cameras pointed at the group, cameras from some stupid reality television series perhaps. Tonight, the joke was on Evangeline Portincort, that foolish, ugly, unfortunate girl. I am never going to live this down, Eva thought. She took a deep breath again. But then she wondered. What if? I guess you only live once. What the hell?
“Frogs of the dark river black, come back, come back. Frogs of the dark river black, come back,” the others chanted. They started raising their arms, as if reaching for the thin, shallow river. Eva followed their lead. Here and there, she glanced up at the stars, down to the water of the river, and then back again to the specimen sitting upon the slick boulder.
Her black robe was on too tight. It started riding up on her as she raised her arms. For a moment, all she wanted to do was pull it back down, but she dare not. This “so-called ritual” must be played as rehearsed. It was her job. If she didn’t do it right, she would get docked some pay. They may not even let her back to work again, that is, if this gig proved worthy of her time to do again, for some more extra dough.
But was she really present just to do the job? She wondered about this as she looked at the specimen. “Take it to the woods on the island. We will do the rest,” the old woman had said. Eva smirked. This is ridiculous. Nothing is going to happen. The old woman was daring her to do it, daring her to pick up the frog and carry it to the island in the middle of the river. Eva could almost hear the wretched voice again, this time saying things that were not said, such as, “I dare you to pick up the frog, that big huge ugly frog.” If she took this dare and Eva picked up the frog, took it across the river and into the woods, she imagined that some floodlights would come on and she would be on television, in possibly the most embarrassing and traumatic moment that she could possibly imagine.
But still, she was curious. What would happen?
What if the old woman had been sincere?
I am as ugly as an iguana stuck in a belt sander. A boyfriend, for the poor ugly iguana. Ridiculous, Eva thought. She could already see the look on Grandmother’s face, the look she would give upon finding out what her granddaughter, Eva, was doing on this strange summer night.
She gazed up at the stars again as she raised her arms higher, as she continued her chanting. She timed her chants perfectly with the chanting of the other nineteen women. Now her nightclothes were visible beneath, just a little, but she didn’t care. “Frogs of the dark river black, come back, come back,” she said, louder now, loud enough to be heard.
The old woman’s words haunted her. “Love requires a leap of faith, a heart of courage, and a willingness to take on potentially devastating risks,” the old woman had told her during the meeting in the small office. “Without those things, love will be forever out of reach.” Eva could still see the old woman’s eyes in her mind, eyes of abject empathy, as if the old woman, Karyan, had known what Eva had been feeling, as if the old woman could feel Eva’s feelings along with her and was trying to help her and care for her in some way, unless she had been completely deceiving her. Eva had been feeling something, right? Anger. The old woman had seen it and judged her. Usually, Eva’s anger and frustration was so buried that nobody else knew that it was present, buried deep in the darkest reaches of Eva’s mind; the hurt, the rejection, loneliness even, perhaps.
“Frogs of
the dark river black,” Eva whispered in time with the others. Her eyes were fixed on the specimen. This is ridiculous, she thought. It’s a fucking frog. Just a fucking bullfrog. If I even so much as touch the vile thing, I’ll probably get warts. “Come back, come back,” Eva repeated. “Frogs of the dark river black, come back, come back.”
The chanting had become mesmerizing. It now had a true rhythm to it now. Her mind started to swim within the words, almost as if it were a song, a bizarre yet compelling tune.
The bullfrog’s eyes were upon Eva, watching her, and maybe even judging her as well, just like the old woman’s eyes had done.
The next thing she knew, her feet were wet and she was wading into the river. She was going for it. She wasn’t even thinking about it. What else was there to think about? Curiosity was winning. That $300? Gone, in an instant. Curiosity shall win tonight.
“What are you doing? Eva!” one of the others said. She heard a few of the others gasp as if in shock over Eva’s sudden departure and her violation of the rules.
The water was warm, almost body temperature. Those parts of her skin that hit the water and then rose above the surface felt alternately cold and warm as the cool air touched her and the water warmed her.
She picked up the specimen,
Frogs of the Dark River Page 2