by Bruce Bauman
Alchy don’t flinch when he sees me. He turns all loose limbed, using his I-can-solve-the-world’s-problems-just-’cause-I’m-me voice, and asks, “So, what is the crisis?”
Laluna hands him the paper from the clinic. “Tell Ambitious what you told me.”
He stares at me, shaking his head. “You won’t be happy.”
“I ain’t happy now, so stop bullshittin’ and start talking.”
“We were both taking a piss outside Madam Rosa’s. Absurda told me she was pregnant.” He’s standing to the left of me. Laluna jams her jaw tight and is letting him talk. “I told her we’d cancel the rest of the tour because you’d want to stay home with her … Although there was no reason, she was thanking me. She was pretty emotional.” His and Laluna’s unwavering eyes are X-raying me. I feel naked, like we’re all naked. “Yeah, Ambitious, it was yours.”
“Is this some Alchemy slick scheming?” I say all full of bravado. Only my bones know it’s truth.
“What could she do, after you ran off to the Plaza and ended it like you did?”
“That got nuthin’ to do with you not tellin’ me. Motherfucker, you shoulda told me. How the …” I hated the sound of my whiny voice.
“I gave my word to Absurda.”
Thinking he’s settled it with me, he slides next to Laluna. He is like six inches taller than her, only they feel the same height. She backs away and walks up the three steps behind the console, like she can’t stand to be near him.
I ain’t satisfied. “Alchemy, why the fuck—”
“Ambitious,” Laluna cuts me off, not raising her voice, her body shaking, full of quiet rage. “Ambitious, he’s telling you the truth. It’s impossible for him to have a kid of his own. He lied to me. To everyone. Persephone’s not his—she’s Moses’s.”
I’m so torched, and in my own head, what she says don’t sink in. “Why the fuck did Absurda tell you first?!” I smash my fucking beer bottle against the wall. The pieces fly everywhere.
“Ambitious.” He reaches for me. I spin around, still squeezing the bottle’s neck, ready to mince-meat his pretty face. Laluna bulls herself between us. “Go. Cool off. This is between Alchemy and me now.” I sense that it’s best I take a hike ’cause I never, not once, ever seen her even close to crying ’til that second.
90
THE MOSES CHRONICLES (2018)
AU 79 1850F
Finding no one in the house, Moses frantically searched outside. He spotted the recording studio’s lights and headed down the path. While walking, he sent his response e-mail to everyone else. He heard Mindswallow cursing to no one outside Salome’s studio. He kept walking and typing.
Must somehow stall SpeedFeed for 48 hours. Get best lawyers. Dispelling lies postpub could prove fatal. Brazen act of pubbing w/o asking for reaction indicates suicide bomber job. Meeting Alchemy now. Call ASAP.
Orange-yellow lights streamed out of the open studio door. Voices crackled like sparking electric wires. Their fury quieted as he passed over the threshold and into the studio.
Laluna spoke first. “Mose, I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me, too. Mose, tell her. Tell her Persephone’s mine.”
Moses was ready to do battle with political enemies over the SpeedFeed smears, not with Alchemy over Persephone’s paternity, Jay’s betrayal of his confidence, or the fact that Alchemy had broken his word again. Certainly not his own role in the whole mess.
“Go ahead, Mose, tell me. First, take a good look at your brother, the god of cool.” Her voice punched out with contempt. “America’s savior. The big man reduced to groveling so his brother covers for him.”
Moses, wobbly and uncertain how to answer, moved deeper inside, sidestepping strewn instruments. He halted between them. He sighed and bowed his head for a second, and regained enough composure to speak. “I can’t. Alchemy, I’m sorry.”
“What?”
“Laluna knows the truth.”
“Mose, how could you?”
Laluna answered for him. “He didn’t. Jay confirmed what I didn’t want to believe.”
Moses felt obligated to defend Jay. “She didn’t mean to, it just—”
“What? Mose? You told Jay? You lied to me?”
“You lied to me first. You swore you’d told Laluna.”
“Boys, it doesn’t matter who lied first. Or last. I’m taking my daughter away from all of you. Tonight. For good.” Through the skylight, a moonlit silhouette of Laluna’s face glistening from her silent tears.
Suddenly, the invulnerable edifice that was Alchemy began to topple. Not from the calumnies of his enemies; those he could repel and master. No, the dream-deniers of time and truth arose, leaving the invented past in ruins and annihilating Alchemy’s imagined future. Moses reached his right hand toward his brother, a sign he loved him, that they’d work it out somehow. Alchemy’s eyes—drained of their luminous energy, now dulled and static—closed.
91
MEMOIRS OF A USELESS GOOD-FOR-NUTHIN’
Sealed with a Judas Kiss, 2018
I’m pounding on Salome’s door. “We gotta fucking talk!” She yaps back, “Give me a fucking minute. I’m coming!” She opens up, wearing only a nightgown, pointing her freakin’ flashlight in my eyes. I push it away. “Salome, no Savant slime-speak, whattaya know about Nathaniel and Absurda’s abortion?”
She leans against the doorway. “Oh, poor, poor Ricky.” She’s puts her fingers through my hair and pushes it off my forehead. “It certainly wasn’t Nathaniel’s abortion. Amanda needed our help and love, and we gave it to her.”
“I woulda helped her if she asked.”
“Why would she, after you tossed her away like a tattered hand-me-down doll?”
“Alchemy say it was his kid or mine?”
“I never asked. It didn’t matter.”
“Like it don’t matter if Laluna is tellin’ the truth and Persephone ain’t his but Mose’s, and that’s why they’re movin’ you outta here for good.”
“Not Alchemy’s?”
“No. Moses’s.”
She jumps to the obvious conclusion, which I’d blanked on before ’cause I was so whacked over my own shit. And like she’s thirty, not seventy-five, barefoot and in her nightgown, she takes off, flying down the path.
92
THE SONGS OF SALOME
Nonny, Nonny
Mindswallow’s fierce knocking invaded my sedative-induced state and, in his fury, he revealed the duplicity between Moses and the succubus. How could they do that to my son? How could Alchemy conspire with them to remove me not just from their home—but their lives? How? Running down the path, my bare feet began to bleed and I heard Margarita: Now, Salome, now.
93
MEMOIRS OF A USELESS GOOD-FOR-NUTHIN’
Had to Cry Today, 2018
I chase Salome. I catch her and she says, “Don’t stop me.” Ain’t no point. I trot alongside her. It sounds sorta like it’s chilled in there, and I’m thinking Alchemy done worked his magic one more time, when fucking Salome, so freaking amped, bursts ahead of me and tackles Laluna and is clawing at her face. Me and Alchy dive in and pull her off. She tries to kick me in the nuts. I wrap her in my arms. Laluna, still on her knees, stares at Salome like she’s gonna rip her eyes out and feed ’em to the coyotes.
“Mom, Ambitious is going to let you go. You done?” She nods. I do. Carefully.
Alchemy extends his arms to Laluna and helps her up. Mose starts wiping her cheeks with his shirt.
Laluna asks for some water. I go get a bottle from the fridge.
Out of my good eye I see Salome’s tiptoed up to the console. “Salome, what the—?” The others turn. Too late. The Beretta is aimed at me.
She shifts her sights to Mose and starts singing, “Say, hey, the mother not only rises / she also surprises …”
Mose, he dares her, dead cold, “Do it. Do it.” She cackles. Me and Alchy flash eye contact. Salome, she nuzzles the gun at her head, shrieks, “I can’t! I mus
t!…” Alchemy takes off with a superhuman leap and soars up and over the console. Laluna, Mose, me—we charge at them. In midair, Alchemy clutches Salome’s hands in his—and fuck …
94
ALCHEMY OF THE WORD
Ach du Liebestod
One shot. Wonder.
Pop’s music make me. Sing. Do I wake? Ever. Never. More. I Savant to be. Alone. Full scream. Ahead! Row your row your boat gently down the sleep stream, verily, verily, verily life is but an American. Dream.
Laluna comin’ down, down. On you. In me. On we. Ennui. Woman, behold. Let yer Savant bluz people go. Go free. Go. Down Mose, go down. To the crossroads. Beg a ride. Promised Land. Denied.
Salomay, she say—Get Bent. I’m crying.
Owed to my Nightingale. Beautyless and truthless. All you need. Is. Had to run. Home. Home run. Take a loss. Do away with pity and party, party. Bacchanalian slide. ’Tis not the meat, ’tis the notion. Jump trope.
Persephone! You are not mine as I was yours. I die … for you. You be MTease. Mal Comes. Say Ha-nah nah nah nah, nah-anah nan-anah nana-anah-yaweh. I cry. Lalunabye.
Moseying down the stream merrily, merrily ’til. Hannah No Mo’ Ma and Pa Mal ain’t no faux pas nor no po’fa so la tee. Duh-oh.
Do you know how to lonely? The Mose knows.
I prez pro tempus fugit of the California Dreamin’ society. No fun. Sing. I am. Too largesse to be. Tell me. No lie. Dance!
Roll roll, up roll up to the American history mystery tour. To. Roll down. In paradise. Whoa! No rocks in the soul. Time to stroll. Blessed be the satiable man. J’ai faim. Je t’aime. I thirst.
I consum-ate myself. Oh, soul-o mea culpa runneth over my desire. My kingdom come. Pray. No way. To who? You voodoo to do Yahweh diddy derri-dum derri-do derri-dada. He say, who we baby, ’oo we? Won’t you let me take you on a See cruise? See the zeits. No zeit und sein. To sein or not to sein, sin?
Happiness is. Sing. That’s the same old song all nich nacht long. Don’t nail me down, for I stigmatter at heaven’s door. Knock, knock. Who’s there? Apparent. Apparent who? A parent who’s not there is a parent only in name. Apparently. A child with no name is.
Salomay I ask you a question? Momism? Ism-ism ism go schism miss’im, miss’im go gism, fee fi ego-ism. Cry. All God’s isms got no rhythm. Go get ’em and construct destruct. My spirit. Mama committed. Songless.
Re-Greta all or nothing. Sing. To auld angst synecdoche be. Forgot. Forget me. Not.
Can you see the real me? Doctor. Awopbopalopbopa-bigbang-messy-eye-complex. Pfft. With a simper.
My last chants. Dies Irae. Deus Vult. Oy gevalt. Sing. Forsaken. I go. All fail down. Madness over method. Style over song. So it began. So it ends. Dead is art. It is finished.
I am. Dying to love. My child. Child of love. Love child. Persehoney—live my. Dream. Sing. They know not what. I do. Do you? Ricky. Mose. Mom. LaLoon! Bang, zoom. Go boom.
Still. Dead. Arise. Arise And sing.
For me.
95
THE MOSES CHRONICLES (2018)
Awake, Awake, Put on Thy Strength
Jay dressed and went to wash her face in the bathroom. On the floor she noticed a folded piece of paper that wasn’t there before. She picked it up and unfolded it—across the top it read “Cedars-Sinai Medical Center.” She scanned the blood test results and Moses’s highlighted platelet count: forty-eight thousand. It had dropped by seventy-five thousand, WBC count 17.1. She didn’t know exactly what those numbers meant, except that it wasn’t good. Not good at all. I’m such a fool, she thought. Too paralyzed to ask, Jay had denied the message of his bruises, his increased night sweats.
Clasping the note, she sped back into the bedroom, grabbed the beret, and tiptoed as fast as she could downstairs. Finding it deserted, she checked their car. Still there. She tossed Salome’s beret in the backseat.
She spotted a guard and asked, “Moses?”
“Think they’re all at the music studio.”
She steeled herself. Be strong for Moses, no matter what the—
An echoing crack.
She took off down the path.
A piercing cry.
Legs churning now faster and faster, until Moses, splashed with blood, bowed over Laluna, who cradled Alchemy’s half skull in her hands, pleading, moaning, “Oh, my God, oh, my God, please, oh, God, don’t die, you can’t, I didn’t, I won’t, couldn’t …” Mindswallow was pinning the thrashing Salome to the ground.
Jay crumbled. Moses went to her and raised her up.
“Take Persephone to your apartment. Get her to bed. No TV, phone, or computer tonight. Don’t call anyone but me.” She yearned to hold him so tightly that they would spin back to a time before he ever met Alchemy. Trembling, she murmured, “Oh, Moses.”
He embraced her. His blood-drenched body staining hers. He gently pushed her away, held her by her arms. “Jay, someday, maybe in a few months, maybe next week, maybe, who knows, after I’m gone—Perse must know everything. No more lies.”
And so it was promised.
96
MEMOIRS OF A USELESS GOOD-FOR-NUTHIN’
Rashomonstrosity, 2018
For seconds after the shot, it’s like time stops. I hear nothing and I’m standing there paralyzed. Then I yell at myself, You ain’t been hit. Fucking do something! I empty the damn gun so, what the fuck, ya know.
Salome is muttering manically in her private lingo and swinging her limbs every which way. For the only time in my life, I hit a lady. The first slap does nothing. She spits at me. I knock her out. Mrs. Mose swoops in and out in an instant. Laluna is hysterical.
Mose says to me, “This was an accident. Salome flipped …” I finish for him, “… because she is Salome.”
“Can you?” He stretches out his arms. Together we lift Salome up, and he holds her in his arms. “Call nine one one. It was an accident,” he says again, but in such a way that I wonder if he seen what I think maybe I seen … who pulled the fucking trigger.
97
THE MOSES CHRONICLES (2018)
Cries and Whispers
Persephone gripped the staircase banister. Shivering. “Auntie Jay, I had a bad dream. Daddy didn’t kiss me good night, he kissed me goodbye.”
“Oh, honey, it was just a dream. You’re awake now. I’m here.”
She whisked Perse back into her room. The nanny, in her robe, stumbled up the stairs. “Please throw some clothes into Persephone’s backpack. Fast.” Jay bundled Persephone in her blanket.
“Where are we going? Where’s my mommy and daddy?”
“They’re together. They’ll be busy for a little while. Your daddy asked me to take you to our house tonight.” Jay enveloped Persephone in her arms and chest, trying to empty the fear coursing through both their bodies.
Holding the backpack in one arm and Persephone in the other, she dashed to her car and buckled Persephone into the backseat. Persephone reached for the red hat beside her. “Granmamma’s.”
“Yes, it was a present from her to … Uncle Mose. He wants you to have it.” Jay shut the door and hopped into the car. She started the engine, took two heavy breaths—in and out—then pressed on the gas pedal and carefully drove down the private road. She turned onto Topanga Canyon Boulevard, cautiously taking the tight curves, until she’d made it a quarter mile down the road. Then she pulled to the side and waited as police cars and ambulances roared past her and up the mountain.
His mother felt weightless in his arms. Moses felt weightless, too, as if her body had evaporated into the ether and transported them to the cottage. Moses gently laid his mother in her bed. She opened her eyes, blinked. Her lips moved. No sound. Her eyes shut again. He waited.
Nothing. Nothing more from her to him. His heart aching, forever broken, Moses began to weep.
OUTRO
Can you take me back where I came from?
Brother, can you take me back?
—The Beatles
98
MEMOIRS OF A USELES
S GOOD-FOR-NUTHIN’
That’s All, Folks
The medics drug Laluna, who can’t stop crying and screaming. I give my story to the cops.
They send Salome back to Collier Layne. I ain’t seen her since.
The funeral is back in Long Island. I don’t remember much, and sorry, I don’t want to. Me and Lux do the eulogies. Fuckin’ brutalest thing I ever done in my life.
Mose, he steps up big time. Him and Mrs. Mose kinda babysit for Perse and Laluna ’til the cops officially declare it an accident. Laluna can’t take no more bullshit, so she and Perse disappear to Hungary or Romania. No idea when she is coming back. Andrew and Sue, everyone turns up the heat on the SpeedFeed bullshit. They ain’t no better than the paparazzi. It was Mose, goin’ on TV just one time, acting all classy and calm, that got SpeedFeed to do a complete retraction and apology. Still, I learned a long time ago, people will believe what they wanna believe.
Mose officially shuts down the Nightingale Party, but some followers are keeping it alive on the Net and with meetings. He keeps the foundation going. I seen him at Kasbah working with the Sheiks on money stuff, and he looks not so good. None of us ever speak about that night. Don’t goddamn matter what I seen or even think I seen, ’cause Alchemy is dead and nuthin’ gonna change that.
It ain’t no fun, but I gotta admit I spent a lotta time hearing Absurda’s voice from that Christmas Eve when she came up to Alchy’s Topanga place. “I waited and waited for you to realize it was your loss. You didn’t. I did what I had to and moved on.” And blaming Alchemy for what I said and done. You know by now that I do what I do and move on with no grousing allowed. Only I’m gonna be living with this shit for a long, long time. Maybe forever.