Narcisa

by Jonathan Shaw

  She jumped on behind me and we took off.

  Right away, she began to fidget, shifting around on the back of the bike, shaking all over, twisting and turning, talking with unseen spirits of the dead in the hot rushing afternoon air.

  It was turning out to be a rough run for her.

  Narcisa had been up for way too long this time. Her mind was plummeting south fast. Soon, she’d be ready for the fucking rubber room.

  Shit!

  Riding away from the shore, I worried about getting her home in one piece.

  59. OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!

  “IF THE INFANTILE PSYCHE PERSISTS INTO ADULT LIFE, HOW WILL ITS PRESENCE BE MANIFESTED?”

  —Harry M. Tiebout, M.D.

  As we rode along, Narcisa kept wobbling around behind me, jabbering, chattering like a mad chimpanzee. As I picked up speed and turned off into the crowded streets of Copacabana, she was barely hanging on.

  Ignoring my pleas to keep still, she continued jerking, shifting her weight back and forth, bouncing up and down on the seat, nearly making me lose control and fly into oncoming traffic . . . Jesus fuck! At this rate we’ll both be dead before I get this freak home . . . If there’s one thing that really burns my ass, it’s a cunt who can’t hold still on the back of a fucking bike!

  After a second close call, I was done.

  I pulled over to the side of the avenida, skidding to a halt right in front of the old Holiday Bar—the place where I’d found Narcisa standing in the fog after her inglorious return from New York. I cut the motor and sat there in silence, fuming.

  “What de fock you doing here, Cigano? No-oo! I don’ wan’ you e’stop at these e’stupid place now, go, go! Anda, porra, vaii-iii! Go go, go . . .”

  Turning around, I put my pissed-off face up hers and shouted back. “I don’t give a shit what you want, Narcisa! Shut th’ fuck up!”

  Sparks of rage crackled in high-voltage oscillating flames between us, like two snarling Rottweilers straining at their leashes.

  “I wanna go now! Go, porra! Go! Go! Go!”

  I spat back, mimicking her. “‘I want, I want! Go go go!’ That’s all you ever wanna do, Narcisa! Go go go! Nothing’s good enough, no place is ever right! The beach? Too much sand! Water’s too fuckin’ wet! Always hassling me, bitching, pissing, moaning! Go go go! Wanna go here, wanna go there. Well fuck that shit! Now I’m stopping, cuz ya can’t even sit still on the back of a fuggin’ motorcycle goin’ eighty kilometers an hour, ya daffy cow! Fuck you, Narcisa! Ya got a death wish, no problem, but you ain’t taking me with ya, tá ligada! No fuckin’ way, got it? Got it now? Understand?”

  She glared back at me for a second. Then, in a lightning flash, she was off the bike, standing at the curb, screaming, bellowing, eyes bugging, foaming at the mouth, spittle flying.

  “You focking fock, you e’sheet e’stupid fock, I ha-ate you, Cigano! You have destroy my life an’ make me crazy!! I hate you, hate hate ha-ate you, e’stupid dick!! You never gonna see me again, never gonna touch me again, you gonna go an’ jack off forever now! Go an’ find de fat ugly old nigger whoo-oore! You can go fock you e’self, cuz I never gonna fock you again! Nunca!!”

  She pointed at the whorehouse and raged on. “I gonna go back to these focking puteiro! An’ then I gonna fock everybody, but never more with you! Va se foder! I gonna fock de midget! I gonna fock de clown!! I gonna make de sexo with de army, de navy, de two hundred midget an’ clown an’ beggar mans, and cripple mans too, but never with you, never more again, Cigano, nunca!! Vá pro inferno!! You gonna go fock you self forever, you focking e’stupid e’sheet!!!”

  Somehow I managed to keep my cool. I crossed my arms, saying nothing.

  Not getting the kind of reaction she was trying for, Narcisa lost it completely. She started hitting me about the head and shoulders, childish blows that didn’t hurt much, but I could feel all her hurt, frustration and psychic pain, the delirious rage of a broken heart, a deranged, drug-addled brain, a shattered soul.

  People stopped and stared, gawking at the angry little sidewalk freak show. As I tried to fend off her furious fists, she began whaling on me harder. I felt like some kind of plastic punching bag toy as she flailed away at my face, drawing blood from my upper lip.

  I grabbed her wrists and held them together tight. Then she started kicking me in the shins, trying to knee me in the balls, biting my hands like a rabid badger.

  I let her go and stepped away, dodging her kicks like a matador.

  One of the passersby laughed and made a humorous comment.

  Narcisa heard it and turned. Her mouth flew open like a raging sewer, focusing her rage on him. “Tá olhando o que, sua merda!? What de fock you looking, hein? E’stupid old e’sheet-face monkey clone loo-ooser!” She spit out the words like popping gunfire, raving, raging, vomiting hatred and violent intent. “Suas mumias, babacas! You focking e’sheet peoples are all dead, got it!? Too e’stupid to live! Zombies! Fat, ugly old cow dead mummy peoples, you old an’ e’stupid an’ boring!! So e’stupid you gotta e’stop you e’sheet little life for lookit de crazy drug addict whoore!? E’stupid mummies!”

  As her screams got louder, the crowd of spectators seemed to grow and gather, swelling like storm clouds on a volatile horizon.

  “You are all e’sheet! Clones!!” Her curses boomed in the air like rolling thunder. “I prefer to be dead than gotta live like all you e’sheet little cow peoples! Mummies! E’slaves! E’stay an’ watch all de day you e’sheet e’stupid focking tel’vision, an e’shake you e’stupid boring old zombie head like de cow, an’ e’say all you e’stupid e’sheet monkey-face thing about de crazy who-oore!! Hah! Is because you too much boring dead peoples for make de comment on you own e’sheet life!! E’slave, puppet, mummy, robot!! Clones!”

  As Narcisa raged on, I knew I’d have to get her out of there fast, before she got herself lynched by an angry mob.

  She was really trying this time.

  60. ROLLING THUNDER

  “PEOPLE IN RAGE STRIKE THOSE THAT WISH THEM BEST.”

  —Shakespeare

  As the crowd grew, I looked around and fretted.

  Fuck! She’s fucking insane! You can’t just stand around insulting strangers on the streets of Rio like this. There’s too many other fucked-up dead-end losers with nothing to lose by just murdering you. And God knows they got some strange gadjikano laws here, like if you get beat to death by a crowd of more than ten, it’s not even a crime.

  One, two, three . . .

  Making mental calculations, I counted the heads of the gathering lynch mob as Narcisa spit and cursed at the people like a screaming demon from hell.

  . . . nine . . . ten . . . eleven . . . twelve . . . Fuck!

  Shit! Gotta get this crazy kamikaze cunt outa here!

  I swallowed my anger and pride like a dose of bitter elixir . . . This is all my fucking fault . . . Why why why the fuck did I have to stop here, of all fucking places? Right in front of this shitty old whorehouse . . . And right at the height of rush hour, with all these fuckers out on the street milling around, bored, gawking . . . Why?

  Feeling helpless and guilty, I put a gentle hand on Narcisa’s arm, trying to distract her from her victims. “Lissen, baby, I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. I’m really sorry! Please, forgive me. Please, please just take it easy and come with me now, por favor! Just lemme get ya outa here before ya get yerself killed . . .”

  “Hah! I wish I can get kee-eel, Cigano!” She yanked her arm away, hissing, spitting poison. “No-body got de balls for finish me! Nobody, no even you! Ninguem! I am indestructible! Narcisa swim with de focking sharks! I gonna bury all you focking e’sheet peoples, got it?”

  I got it. I had to get her out of there now, right away, fast.

  “I’m sorry, Narcisa. Let’s just go home now. Please, baby. I love you . . .”

  “Hah! Liar! What kinda love it is when I e’saying go an’ then you e’stop here, hein!? You only e’stop these place for make de e’stupid cow mummy
face clones peoples come look on me like de focking who-ore animal in de who-ore zoo! These is no de love, it is hate! You do it to me on purpose! Cuz you hate me, e’same like all de e’stupid clones peoples!”

  “No baby, I didn’t mean it. I swear! I just had to stop before we had an accident. Fuck, man, you were twisting all around and you were gonna make me wreck the bi—”

  “Hah! Liar! You e’stop these place only for try an’ humiliating me! You wan’ kill me! But you can’ never do nothing to me, got it? Cuz I dead already! Already dead all de years! I am borned already dead, Cigano, got it? Abortion girl! Crazy geer-ool! In-sane whoo-oore!!”

  “Please, Narcisa.” I gestured at the people. “Por favor! Let’s just go now . . . Please?”

  “Why you so worry ’bout de focking e’stupid clones peoples, hein? I no e’scare for nobody, Cigano! I hope somebody gonna kill me right now! It is do me de big big focking favor, belief me . . .”

  She spewed out some more feeble insults, first at me, then at the crowd, but Narcisa’s tirade was running out of momentum, winding down. As her voice lost its edge, I could tell she was growing tired under the looming shadow of the Crash. Still, I knew she couldn’t afford to lose face in front of all those strangers. Not now. In her frazzled, agonized state, her pathetic little show of bravado was all that was left of poor Narcisa’s soul.

  I looked between her and those blank, miserable faces, standing around watching, like a row of stop signs. I knew she’d have rather had red-hot daggers shoved under her fingernails than ever admit it, but I could tell Narcisa wanted to go. I could see it in her eyes.

  I leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Fuck ’em, princesa. Mumias! You’re right. These stupid insects don’t deserve to breathe th’ same air as you. Don’t waste yer spit on ’em anymore; they’re not worthy of yer attention. C’mon, baby, I’m sorry. Forgive me. Please, let’s just go home now.” I nodded toward the bike. “Please, Narcisa, ’bora, por favor . . .”

  “Okey, Cigano. Menos! I gonna go with you. But only on condition you don’ e’say nothing! I don’ wan’ hear you focking voice talking in my head no more, got it?”

  “I got it, baby.” I breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

  I got onto the motorcycle and she climbed on behind me, slowly, deliberately, like a queen ascending her royal throne.

  Fuck! Her Majesty, the Queen of Hell!

  “Now we can go, Cigano. Go! Take me home now, go!”

  I exhaled. “You got it!” I let the clutch out and eased into the heavy traffic.

  Suddenly, Narcisa twisted sideways in the seat again, shouting. “Bye-bye, all de e’stupid little chicken peoples!!” She raised her middle finger in the air like a conquering sword, glaring at the blank-faced onlookers. “Lookit all de little chicklets face, de e’stupid little ignorant monkey peoples! Hah! Go back inside you little chickie home an’ lay you e’stupid little egg now! Go! Make it de big chickie omelette for de Narcisa breakfast! Hah!”

  I said nothing. Concentrating on the road, listening to her ranting nightmare monologues behind me, I rode along in worried silence, praying for the Crash.

  Please, God, just let her wear herself out soon!

  Back at my place, Narcisa still bitched and complained, but more quietly now, like a tired, bitter old codger muttering about the state of the world, mumbling weird, muffled curses, talking to the unseen spirits.

  Poor thing! Please, dear Christ, just make her give it up and go to sleep!

  Then, all of a sudden, she stopped.

  What now?

  She turned and stared at me for a moment. Then she began to whisper, her eyes growing wide, flashing with a look of panic-stricken terror.

  “Cigano! Lissen, mano! I see him again today . . . When I go into de water!”

  “Huh? Wha’ . . . ?”

  “At de beach, cara! I know he following me ever’where! He wanna make it to me de electronic shock sabotagem! He trying to kee-eel me!”

  I looked at her, baffled. “Who, princesa? Who’s following you?”

  “Doc!” she hissed. “He all de time watching me!”

  “Watching you?”

  “Yeah, mano! He e’stay there at de beach de whole focking day today! Day before too, he follow me all round de city! He even come up in de favela when I gone there, an’ then I see him another time when I go back down de hill! He following me ever’where I go to now!”

  I scratched my head . . . Now people are following her . . . Fuck . . . More lunatic crack delusions . . . Where does this madness ever end?

  I must have looked pretty skeptical.

  She grabbed my arm and stared right into my eyes, breathing fast, frantic. “Is truth, Cigano!” She shook me, digging her fingernails into my flesh. “Belief me! Narcisa may be crazy, but I no de idiota! He de one who maluco! An’ now he wanna kee-eel me with de electricity shock, e’same way he kill de mother! I can feel it when I go in de water today! Ai aiiiiii! I feel it all around me now, de electricity shocks he e’sending all over my body! Ai aiiiiii, ai aiiiiii!”

  Doc? Why all this talk about that shitheel all of a sudden? Electric shocks? What the fuck? I’d never seen such terror in Narcisa’s eyes before. She was really scared . . . Jesus! She’s panting like a fucking dog! Fuck! Hyperventilating with fear! Poor baby!

  Then, without another word, she began to fade. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and then, just like that, she was out, snoring softly, a cigarette burning in her hand. I covered her sleeping form with the blanket, then puttered around the pad for a while, still wondering about the source of her latest paranoid tirade.

  Doc? Why’s she all freaked-out about this guy now? I hadn’t seen the old pillow-man since our encounter at the cafeteria . . . And that was like two years ago . . . What the fuck? Who is this guy to her? Agh! Whatever. Just another haunted phantom of her guilty conscience.

  I shrugged Narcisa’s Dickless Old Cushion out of my mind. The vision of his prim, prudish red face slunk from my consciousness like a dog who’d crapped on the rug.

  It was over. I didn’t care anymore. All her crazed delusions were just another nightmare memory now. As long as she was safe at home and sleeping, that was all that mattered.

  Looking down at Narcisa’s snoring carcass littering my sofa, I lit a cigarette and breathed out a long, deep, smoky sigh of relief.

  61. OTHER BEINGS

  “THE LIVING BEING IS ONLY A SPECIES OF THE DEAD, AND A VERY RARE SPECIES.”

  —Nietzsche

  If it still wasn’t painfully clear to me yet just how fucked-up things were getting, I would be reminded again, just a few days later.

  After hours of sex, we’d been sitting on the sofa, basking in the eerie, hypnotic, shifting blue light of the TV, when, all of a sudden, Narcisa settled into this odd, Zen-like state of peace. I sat watching as she reached over, grabbed her crack pipe from the table and smoked a big rock.

  Then she drifted right off into outer space.

  I stared at her in wonder. Fuck! She’s gone! Right out of her body! Pffffttt! Just like that! Gone! Right then, I sensed a new level of weirdness.

  When she looked back at me, I could see from the glazed, otherworldly look in her eyes that this new Narcisa was nothing like the frenzied, hyperactive antagonist I’d always known.

  She appeared to be in a state of Grace. Serenity.

  That’s when it hit me. This was exactly the kind of zoned-out, drug-induced nirvana she’d been seeking all along; a nice little psychic vacation from the brutal dungeons of her mind. Ironically, though, it seemed she wasn’t even there anymore to enjoy her long-awaited moment of release. Narcisa was gone. Only her body remained, looking at me, talking to me . . . But it’s not her! This isn’t Narcisa speaking . . . She’s just a shell now, a poor, dilapidated little vehicle for some creepy phantom visitors . . . Other beings! What the fuck is this shit?

  I sat across from her on the sofa, watching in dread, my nerves tingling with a weird occult chill as she rambled on in t
his calm little fairylike voice.

  “Is true what you thinking, little Ignácio, is no de Narcisa what e’say these thing to you now, so you better listen an’ pay good attention, cuz now is de other e’spirit inside de Narcisa physical body.” She blinked once, then her face went blank.

  As I sat staring at her in shocked silence, she rolled her eyes back, then started screeching. “Arrgghhh! Shut de fock up! Is too much memory in these focking head! Fock! Time to e’smoke de crack pipe again an’ push de delete button, Doioioiiinnggg! Computer program! Radio wave! Tape recorder! Doioioiiinng! Delete! Delete! Delete! Porr-rraaa! Arrggghhh! Doioioiiinnggg!”

  I listened with a sense of impending horror as the mad voice raved on. Then it switched to another weird inflection, a tone that was definitely not Narcisa’s.

  “Maybe I am only de recording device now, hein?”

  “What? Recording device?” I rubbed my chin.

  “Sure. Why no, hein? You know de Narcisa use to make de big pot of tea from all de cassette tape she find in de garbage, an’ then she drink it! Hah! Maybe is too much information got record onto de Narcisa DNA from these e’sperimentations, an’ so she try to get rid of all de data now! Hah! Composition an’ decomposition of de organic matters . . . E’speculation . . .”

  Her lips were moving like a demented puppet’s, hammering those chilling words into the depths of my soul. Then the voice began to speak of happenings from my own past, things I knew Narcisa had no way of knowing about.

  “ . . . You think maybe you mother, these Dolores programa, she make it all de craziness just for fock up you mind, hein, little Ignácio?”

  Speechless, I gawked at her. I couldn’t believe my ears.