The Mare

by Mary Gaitskill

  When I got to the party, I thought it even more. There was a evil-looking dude guarding the door and people all around waiting to get in, and they were rocking the hell out of it—I never got what that meant until now: gold high heels, chain belts, brand-name skinny jeans, shining lips, dyed blond braids tight up on the head, shining ironed hair rolled up in a bun to the side, white eyeliner, nails out to here. My heart pounded. I wanted to turn around and go home, but I couldn’t stop looking: they were heaven-beautiful with a little hell added for flavor. The women like lightning hitting the ground, the men like thunder calling back. I knew somebody who called his mom “my ol’ bird.” Next to these people, Ginger in her white leather pants was a ol’ bird even if she did have a diamond ring. Next to these people I was…in middle school.

  But so was Alicia, and she invited me.

  I stepped up to the evil man and he checked me like What the hell? But when I checked him back, his eyes changed and he wasn’t so evil. He said, “What you doin’ here, Miss Pretty? You look like you need to be home in your twin bed.”

  “Alicia invited me,” I said.

  “Alicia? Alicia who?”

  “And Dominic.”

  “Dominic, huh.” He turned his head like he might go inside and talk to somebody—but then he saw more people coming and just scrunched his face like, Whateva. “Okay, shawty,” he said. “Slide through.”

  Silvia

  I was late for work. The subway was speeding much too fast; it was boiling hot and barely lit and the people were all too close to me, so close their faces pressed against mine. Their bodies were crushed and wrong-shaped, their faces frowning with eyes crunched closed and lips pushed out like animal noses. They pulled at me and I saw I was at work, with Mrs. Somebody pulling at my clothes and whimpering because her saggy little tits were coming off, her hands were coming off. Her own hands were trying to put her hands back on. She said her children had died in a fire and there was the building burning while the children cried. Oh God, my daughter was in the building, I could hear her crying for me, she was only five! She had died when she was only five! I stood up and screamed for the subway to stop, I had to save my daughter, but no one could understand and it kept going.

  I woke up sweating bullets. I loosened Dante’s grip and went to down the hall to Velvet. I found her and put my hand on her; I found her in soft pieces. I clawed through them, my breath clawing through me. Fear came like a hurricane and went out my mouth.

  Velvet

  The music was so loud, it was like it was moving us, moving everybody. It was dark, but still I could see rooms like regular rooms in somebody’s house, people drinking, talking, dancing, except in one room I saw a girl with her back to a man, her hands on the wall, dress and leg up, him grabbing her butt and shoving at her. I looked away quick. I saw girls maybe my age in one corner, talking and smoking something. Alicia wasn’t here. No way she was here. This guy started talking to me, he said, ay, memba me? We were up against a wall, people pushing past. He said he knew Dominic. I knew his face but I didn’t know from where, so I said no to the smoke at first, but then I thought, At least I will be doing something and took it. The music got louder; I saw his mouth moving but couldn’t get what he said because the music was pulling me down a tunnel, and I was in the good feeling of Strawberry and the sea horse and that feeling did not belong here. I could see the boy was watching me very close, but I was thinking how once me and Pat were putting out these ponies, Nova and Sugar, and Nova got away from Pat and ran around the fence alongside Sugar, and Sugar ran with her inside the fence, her eyes bugged and her mouth foaming. The boy waved his hand in front of me. And then I knew him. He was the boy on the street who had told me I needed to play my position. I moved off the wall and said, “Where’s Dominic?” He said, “I don’t know where he is, Ma, but I’m here,” and put his dick against me. I said, “I’m not your ma,” and moved away, but he pushed against me, saying no bullshit he knows I’m feelin’ him. That’s when I saw Brianna and her girls mean muggin me right in the eye. He took my hand and put it on his dick. I yanked it back and said, “I’m feelin’ you, all right—you make me feel sick,” and he slapped me hard enough I hit the wall. Somebody shoved Brianna out the way. “Get off that girl,” said Dominic, and he was taking up the whole screen.

  “Ay, I’m not hurtin’ lil’ chicken head.”

  “Bitch, this girl is twelve and she ain’t no chicken nothin’. You touch her one more time Ima lay you out, that’s my word.”

  “I ain’t gonna be no bitch,” he said like a bitch.

  Dominic didn’t bother to answer the bitch, he just took my arm and pulled me out the door. “What in hell are you doing here?” he said.

  “Alicia invited me.”

  “Alicia? Who—oh, that lil’ skank? Since when you hangin’ with that?”

  “Since when you know me so well? I know Alicia since third grade, and FYI, I am not twelve. I turned thirteen last week.”

  He tried not to smile. “Oh, so you a big girl now.”

  “Bigger.”

  He looked around; there was people there, but they weren’t looking. He crouched down with his hands on my shoulders and his legs open. His legs were long, and warmth came from them. He said, “Okay, big girl,” and I felt myself open to let the warmth come in me. “You know your girl played you by asking you here, right? So now don’t play yourself. Go home, a’ight?” We weren’t moving, but I felt something come from him to me, heavy and delicious. I looked at him from the bottom of me; something came up in me and met him strong. Inside his eyes, he fell back. “Ay,” he said. “You are a big girl ain’t you?” He touched my lips with the back of his thumb; my lips kissed it before my mind thought. He stood, moving his hands over me, over my breasts. I stretched up to him, my lips open. He bent to me, his mouth open too, his hands feeling my butt.

  “Girl, you need to stop that now.” It was a man’s voice; Dominic stepped away quick and turned his mean face out ready to fight. But it was a old man—even in the dark, I could see he was old. He said, “Young man, my granddaughter is out too late and she’s too young for that anyway.”

  And I will never understand this: I said, “I’m sorry, Grandfather.”

  Dominic looked at me, confused. The old man came closer. He was wearing a cap with a brim low on his head and I couldn’t see his face. I checked Dominic; I was surprised to see him looking almost scared. “I’m sorry, mister,” he said. “I was only trying to take care of her.”

  “Sure, that’s all right. But her mother is angry. She needs to come home. Come along with me, chica. I’ll take you to the bus.”

  And he did. He walked me to the bus. We talked and I don’t know if it was the smoke, but I forgot what we said right away. Except for this: He said, “I want you to tell your mother you love her.” And I said I would. I took his hand and said, “Bendición, Abuelo,” and he blessed me.

  When we got to the stop, the 47 was there, so he said “Go,” and I didn’t have time to ask him who he was or anything. I got a seat up near the driver and then I thought, How did he know what bus I took? I whipped my head around to look at him, like he could answer through the window. But he wasn’t there.

  He wasn’t there, but his voice was in me. Not just in my head, in my body, like part of me. It was still saying “Tell your mother you love her.”

  I came home and saw lights on. My mom must’ve seen me out the window because when I walked in she grabbed me around the throat and shoved me against the wall. I flashed on the boy and his dick; I tried to push back. She crushed her whole body against me, even her head bone crushed on mine. She didn’t yell. She didn’t hit. She said very soft that I wasn’t worth hitting because if she hit me now she wouldn’t be able to stop and then the police would come back and see and they’d take Dante away and she wasn’t going to let me do that to her. She whispered, “I could kill you right now. But you aren’t worth it.”

  I said, “Mami, I’m sorry. I love you.” I looke
d in her eyes. “I love you.”

  She jerked back her head like I was a snake that bit her. She laughed hard and nasty and then jerked me off the wall and dragged me into her bedroom, where Dante lay curled up and scared. “Mami!” I cried out, and she put one foot behind my leg and then pushed me so I fell on the floor. I started to get up, but she put her foot on me and pushed me down, held me down. Dante closed his eyes. “Don’t you try to manipulate me, you little puta,” she said. “If you love me, act like it. Don’t play bullshit stunts like you just played and then come at me, Oh, I love you. That drama might work with your social worker. I’m sure it works with Ginger. But it don’t work with me.” And she pushed her whole body weight on her foot, pressing into my chest like she was gonna stand on me. “You’ll sleep here tonight. On the floor like a dog. If I get up and you’re not here on the floor, I’ll come get you, and I’ll put you back down until you stay there.” And she got back into the bed with Dante. I heard him whisper something to her; she whispered back like he was the sweetest thing in the world. And then they were sleep-breathing like nothing had even happened.

  I lay on the floor like I was paralyzed. Why did that old man tell me to say that? Was I crazy? Was the smoke so strong I saw somebody who wasn’t even really there? But he had to have been there—Dominic talked to him! I lay there for at least an hour with the floor hurting my head, too afraid even to move. It was like I could still feel her standing on me, on my chest. But I kept thinking that I had to find out, I had to ask Dominic—I had to see him, feel him. I wanted him to hold me. That’s what finally made me strong enough to stand up and quietly, quietly go outside.

  I thought I would take the bus back and look for Dominic, but I realized it was too late now; the bus might not even run. Instead I sat on the steps and watched the street: boys on corners, sometimes other boys coming to them. Men coming by in cars, this one car stopping and the boys coming up to it. A woman was there in the car, and she looked at me; big earrings, flashing eyes. The boys went back to their corners, but the car sat there, the man and woman talking at each other. I thought of Dominic touching me, felt my body as different now. The man yelled at the woman so loud I could hear, “You wanna smell my dick? You out you fuckin’ mind?” Boys looking away, trying not to laugh; one of them looked at me, trying to catch my eye. The woman yelled, “If I could trust you, I wouldn’t—” These little kids came running down the street laughing and I felt sick-sad ’cause no way should they be out this late. But they just laughed and ran around the corner, like Nova getting away and Sugar inside the fence rearing up like, Fuck this shit. I smiled at nothing. The car sped away so fast the woman’s head snapped back. I remembered the Republican restaurant again; I thought of walking at night. I thought, upstate is nice. But compared to here, upstate is like somebody dreaming to themselves.

  I took the Ginger-doll out of my pocket, rubbed it with my thumb. I thought, My mom is right: She’s nice but she’s…I couldn’t think what she was, except that she wasn’t here. My grandfather too. He was nice, but he wasn’t here either. I went out to the street. Somebody banged into me and said, “Watch where you going, stupit lil’ bitch!” I stepped out of his way, and he kept walking. I went to the curb and I threw Ginger down the sewer. I took the little flower ring off first, though, and put it on my pinkie finger; it was too cute to throw away. I kept my grandfather’s picture too. I did take it out of my pocket, but I put it in again and went back into my house and lay down on the floor.

  Sugar said, Fuck this shit and slammed through the electric fence, her body tight like a cat going through a little hole. It must’ve hurt like hell, but she got through and ran, ran with Nova and nobody could stop them. My eyes shot open; I thought, The horses have what the people here have. They get beat down and locked up but still, when they run, nobody can stop them. I lay on the floor thinking about it over and over. And when I went to sleep I heard my grandfather’s voice, very weak but clear. You did well. I won’t be talking to you like this again for a long time. But you did well.

  Ginger

  I had not thought of Michael for years. Then suddenly, he was there again, floridly. At night, when Paul’s back was like a wall and I couldn’t sleep, I would think of him: the numb, hard way we were with each other, the deep touch of his deadened hands, his broken childishness, the cartoon-cruel expression of his mouth. The time his body trembled and he made a soft noise, and I took my hands off the floor to touch his thighs and he hit me in the face. I told you, don’t touch me! The time he stroked my eyebrows and lips, his strange eyes glittering as if amazed to discover that I had a face. The time he said to me, “You are so lost.” Numb and hard, but with something else inside it; I remembered it with grief and love. Because I had always been haunted by that pitiful feeling, that there had been love between us. Secretly.

  These picture-thoughts scrolled past while I grocery shopped or made dinner or walked at night, planning Velvet’s next visit. But I had not had such thoughts for so long that they seemed significant. They seemed related to the drink the night of Velvet’s birthday. Because it was not just a drink; there was a wish that came with it, a need for something I couldn’t put into words. I was afraid to talk about it with Paul. I was afraid he would lecture me, and also that he would associate the slip with Velvet’s presence. And so I decided to go again to my old AA meeting in the city.

  When I walked into the room, he was there. At first I couldn’t believe it; I had never seen him at such a meeting or ever imagined he would go to one. The coincidence seemed so impossible, I thought it must be someone else; he was potbellied and pouch-faced, but the eyes and mouth were the same even so. He had the same restless body, the same insouciant posture, though with exhaustion now too. And who else would stare at me like that, as if shocked to see me too, also ashamed and unsure—but glad? He looked glad to see me! He looked glad, then avoided my eyes. I insisted, and finally he looked back. Then he raised a finger to his lips, and with smiling eyes, went, “Shhhh.”

  Velvet

  My next time back I wanted to tell Ginger I threw her doll away. But it was too mean and anyway she didn’t know about the doll. So I told her I could see the bald spot on her head.

  “Thanks a lot,” she said, “but I knew about that already. Do you know you got a big-ass head?”

  I asked her if she’d been out drinking again. She whipped around and said, “Don’t ever mention that again. Mention that again, our relationship is over.”

  “I’m going to the horses.”

  “Honey, I’m sorry.”

  Before I got to the barn, I saw Beverly in the round pen with Joker and she was using her bullwhip. She was excited. I could feel how excited she was. I could feel how scared he was. She was scared too, and that made her more excited. She yelled at him and made him run, but then she changed the whip from behind to in front and he turned and ran and she hit from behind again. He didn’t know where to go. He stood up in front of her and I thought he would stomp her. But he didn’t. She used the whip and that’s when he screamed.

  I wanted to kill her. I wanted to take the whip away from her and use it on her. I wanted it so bad I couldn’t see.

  I went in the barn. Gare was standing there so quiet I didn’t see at first that she was watching Beverly and she was crying. I felt even more mad to see that. I went to the office. Pat was in her plastic chair eating old takeout with the cats stretched up on her front. I said, “Why is Beverly doing that?”

  She sat up; the cats hung there looking pissed. “First, get the attitude out of your face.”

  “Why is she hurting him? She’s always hurting him. Why?”

  “She’s not seriously hurting him. What she’s doing is psychological. She’s—”

  “So she’s hurting him inside.”

  “She’s psychologically disciplining him, she—”

  “He’s screaming, Pat.”

  “Listen, it’s not my way. I wouldn’t do it. But I don’t run this place and—”


  I walked out of the office. Gare was still standing there. Nobody else was. “Come here,” I said to her. “Help me.”

  “Help you do what?”

  “Come here, I’ll show you. Get a bridle.”

  She followed me. I went to the other side of the barn, to Fiery Girl’s stall. The mare came forward as we came. I took her halter down. “I’m gonna bring her out right here. I’m gonna get the bridle on her while you hold her.”

  Gare stared at me. “You’re fucking crazy,” she said.

  “She won’t hurt me. We don’t have time to get her on the cross-ties.”

  Like she knew what I was planning, Fiery Girl shook her head, stepping fast and light from one foot to the other.

  “What’re you gonna do?”

  “Help me get the bridle on. Help me get on her.”

  Gare’s face lit up. She went to get the bridle. I opened the stall door enough to get in. The mare put back one of her ears, stretching her head toward me like she wanted to lip me. I lightly pushed her face back and touched her neck to get her to take the halter. She put her head down. I opened the door and led her out, her step high and springy. Gare came back, strong now. The mare’s back was trembling under her silky skin, but she let us get the bridle on. Then it was scary: Gare couldn’t hold her and help me get on her. I had to make her be still with just my hand on her. I said, “Whoa. Be with me. Whoa. I’ve been with you. Be with me.” Gare’s eyes flashed. She let go the horse and stood with her hands locked for me to step on and get a leg up.

  I took the reins and went from Gare’s hands up onto the bare excited back; the mare took off at a strong walk. Gare gave a holler, Pat came out the office and yelled, “Shit! Whoa!” She went for the reins, but I tapped with both heels, then barely had time to duck my head before we were out the barn door at a trot past the round pen.