Sabina had spent hours in the greenhouse, taking pictures of the new pupas and waiting for that incredible moment when the butterflies appeared. She had watched the caterpillars turn into chrysalides a few weeks earlier, setting up her camera so she could catch the different stages and have a record. It always stunned her to see them create this unique home out of silk that they eventually outgrew. She felt she was doing something similar with her photos, creating a kind of dwelling for herself to return to again and again.
Though she had experienced the process several times now, it never failed to amaze her when the butterflies unfolded their brilliant orange, black, and white wings, as if in a dream, slowly unfurling them, clinging to the pupa with their legs until ready to fly. Even that seemed astonishing: They instinctively knew how to glide through the air.
Kadeem bent over to see the cocoon more clearly. She’s right, he said to Curva. They’re almost ready to pop out.
Curva introduced the Trinidadian to Sabina. Without taking her eyes off the cage, Sabina shook his hand and said, Hola.
Manuel and Pedro croaked hola from behind the cover on their enclosure. Dios woofed once before going back to sleep.
Kadeem laughed. I’m no match for the butterflies or these parrots, he said, and walked away. Curva brushed Sabina’s hair with her lips before following.
Show me these eggs, señora.
Curva led Kadeem to the other end of the greenhouse so he could see a different metamorphosis. She explained how she’d planted the seeds he had given her, fertilizing them with dandelion wine and crushed butterfly chrysalides, among other things.
Ah, he said, you have the magician’s touch that every gardener needs. I couldn’t have done better myself.
Sí, but—
But what?
The seeds turned into huevos. Curva spread her arms wide: Grande! I didn’t expect that to happen.
Sí, señora, life would be dull with no surprises. How often has a plant turned up in your garden you didn’t put there yourself? Muchas times, right?
Curva nodded her head. But eggs, she said, from seeds? Even a great sorcerer like you couldn’t make that happen.
Kadeem waved one hand: Nothing is what it seems. Carpets fly. Plants give birth to animals. Characters escape from novels. All this is normal.
Brushing aside the avocado tree’s leaves and drawing closer to where Curva had planted the seed, they were startled to see fragmented shells scattered on the ground where Xavier and Suelita had roosted on the eggs.
Curva blurted out, I can’t believe it. They’ve hatched since I saw them last!
She called for Sabina to come and see, but the girl didn’t answer.
Kadeem laughed: They must have been Mariposas gigantes. He pointed at the shells: I think they were crysales gigantes and not eggs. They’re off to Me-he-co.
Kneeling on the ground, Curva said, Wait, señor. You’re wrong. My special fertilizer produced something stranger than drunken mariposas. Look at this!
Curva clasped a book she found amidst the shattered remains and handed it reverently to Kadeem. He took it and laughed: Don Quixote’s poems! That scrawny old rascal. That old fake. He’s still stirring things up.
Sí. Curva said. I tried reading his poems once, but they don’t make sense.
The seeds of language, of meaning? These words don’t need to make sense. Kadeem skimmed through the book, muttering, Life doesn’t make sense! Why should poems? But they still give birth to ideas and images—to new ways of thinking and being.
He stood there in the dim light, peering at the print. I’ll need to study this, he said, and tucked it carefully into one of his pockets.
Curva said, Wait, the eggs have produced more! She reached into the rubble and withdrew a purple velvet bag, silver sequins glittering like tiny moons on its surface, the top secured by a drawstring of stars.
Kadeem took it from Curva and held it gently in his hands. Ah, he said, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen one of these. A bag of dreams. Muy útil. Muy importante. What’s life without dreams? You’re a lucky woman to have this.
It’s yours, señor. You gave me the seeds to plant.
No, no, señora. I was just the messenger. You brought them back to life.
Gracias. I have much dreaming to do then. Maybe I’ll join Don Quixote.
He could use a new companion. That Sancho lacks much imagination. And the third egg?
Curva nodded and picked up a pair of shoes covered with plum-colored tapestry. Stiletto heels, she said. Muy sharp.
Ah, Kadeem said. Amazing what those eggs hatched! The shoe protects the sole—such an important part of the body.
They were in the other two eggs, señor, One in each.
I’m afraid they aren’t my size, he said, smiling at his own joke. But some lucky woman will be happy with them.
With what? Sabina approached them, yawning, hands in her pockets, shoulders slumped, walking barefoot.
Curva said, What’s wrong, Sabina. You look so sad.
I am sad. I can’t stay awake any longer, but the butterflies look ready to leave their cocoons any time. It’s not fair!
Curva enfolded the girl in her arms and said, I know it isn’t fair, mi amor. But hold them in your dreams tonight and they’ll be waiting for you in the morning. I promise. Before you go to bed, look at this, and she pointed at the workbench where she’d placed the shoes. Remember the seeds I planted? You saw them when they turned into eggs. Well, they’ve hatched! Here’s what was inside.
Yeah, I remember, Sabina said, leaning against her madre, her eyelids drooping. She turned to leave.
Wait, Curva said. Take a look at these shoes before you go.
Wow! Great shoes, Sabina said. And they came from the eggs? She leaned over the workbench and studied them. Look, she said, they have butterfly wings on the back!
You’re right, Kadeem said. Smart girl. Observant.
Sabina picked up one shoe and studied it. I think it’s my size, she said.
Try it on, Kadeem urged.
The greenhouse door blew open, and Suelito rushed in, startling everyone. Wait, she said, those are my shoes!
Curva frowned: How did they get into the eggs?
Laughing, Suelito said, They weren’t in the eggs. I was wearing them when Xavier and I became like hens and roosted. I took them off at some point. You thought they came from the eggs?
Too bad, Sabina said. I like them. She started yawning again. Buenas noches, she said, heading off to the house and to her bed.
Buenas noches, the others called after her.
Curva handed Suelita the shoes and said, You must have seen the hatched eggs before we did. What was in the other two?
Suelita laughed: We hatched them. We deserve half of the contents.
And your half? Curva asked, tapping one foot impatiently.
Suelita turned around and flapped two gorgeous wings attached to her shoulder blades. Vivid oranges and yellows dominated, framed and threaded with intense black that circled white dots of various sizes. They looked totally natural on her.
Wings! both Kadeem and Curva shouted together.
Sí, wings, Suelita said. Xavier has the other pair. We’re ángels.
Curva hooted: You, an ángel! Absurdo. Imposible.
Why imposible? Xavier asked, joining them, his eyes shining with a new clarity, levitating a little when he fluttered his wings. He did a modified split mid-air before landing.
Bravo, Kadeem said. I would like wings too. I need some of those seeds. He dug deep into his trouser pockets and felt around for more. Nada, he said. I must go hunting again.
Xavier planted himself in front of Curva, his hands on his hips: You don’t believe in ángels?
Curva tossed her head: I don’t believe in you two being ángels.
Xavier sprea
d his arms and waved them. We have wings, he said. Doesn’t that make us ángels?
Curva imitated his arm movements. You have wings, she said. Doesn’t that make you birds?
Xavier chirped a few times and then threw up his hands, causing his wings to shudder. I can sing like an ángel. I can’t sing like a bird. So I must be an ángel. Correcto?
I can ride and shoot like a man. That must make me a man. Correcto?
You a man? Absurdo.
You an ángel? Absurdo.
Kadeem plucked a tomato from a nearby plant and popped it into his mouth. Delicioso, he said. Not absurdo.
Curva said, You are wrong, señor, it is absurdo. You don’t know Xavier. You don’t know Suelita. Ángels? Never. They’re too much of this earth.
Ah, but I do know them. They’ve asked me to marry them. I’ve given them my blessing. Waving goodbye, he said: I’ll see you in Mexico for the wedding.
Curva felt puzzled. Xavier marrying Suelita? That was even more absurdo than the two of them being angels. Suelita, who had introduced Curva to walking marriages? Suelita, who consumed men the way Xavier now consumed food? Why would she marry?
She realized Xavier and Suelita were waiting for her to say something. Married? Curva said, squeaking out the word. I’ve never heard of ángels marrying. She busied herself at the workbench, rearranging flowerpots and stakes and trowels, suddenly feeling terribly alone. More alone than when she was on the trail. More alone than she’d ever felt in her life.
For all these years, she and Xavier had been inseparable in spite of him being dead. Even because of it. The letters she wrote to him while on the trail had kept him close by. Now just this one word, marriage, while it joined Suelita and Xavier, severed that intimate connection and created a barrier between them. She glanced at Suelita, who was clinging to Xavier’s arm and gazing at him adoringly. Xavier returned the look, stroking Suelita’s face. The obvious intimacy confirmed the relationship, and Curva had to accept that Suelita was supplanting her.
Curva couldn’t shoot her way out of this situation, but she could accept that Xavier finally had a chance at happiness and wish the two lovers well.
Brother and sister looked at one another. Xavier spoke first. Sorry, mi hermana. I planned to tell you myself. The cat got out of the bag.
Curva attempted a rueful laugh, but it came out sounding like a sob. She said, I think you mean the wings got out of the eggs, and the two of you flew off together into the blue. It would make a good “B” movie. When’s the beeg day?
Tomorrow night in Tiquicheo, Mexico. We want to be married under the full moon and the stars. Heavenly, don’t you think?
Curva was relieved the ceremony would be where she and Xavier were born. She turned back to her workbench and dipped her fingers into some potting soil, wanting to lose herself in the rich black earth and to bury there the strong emotion she was feeling. Shoulders shaking, her tears fell, irrigating the seeds she had placed in the dirt. Green shoots shot up, flower buds already straining to open while doors seemed to be closing all around her. The government and ultimately Shirley could take over her farm. In Canada illegally, Curva could be deported at any time.
Though she had preferred walking marriages to static ones, she liked feeling planted in one place after all her travels. And whether she admitted it or not, Billie had become important to her as well. When he had suggested she marry him so she wouldn’t be expelled, he hadn’t pushed for an answer. But now she was ready to give it, and it wasn’t just out of necessity.
Curva also needn’t just cling to the Berumba of her fantasies. She now had her own bag of dreams that offered a different kind of future trail for her to follow. She could borrow an Arabian carpet from Kadeem and fly anywhere in an instant. Already she could feel the wind in her face and the sensation of soaring above the ground, closer to the clouds. She could take Sabina and Billie with her, introducing them to a larger world. But they would always have this one to return to.
Billie and Curva
The music from Curva’s place had carried over the prairies to the rez, its plaintiveness awakening Billie. Xavier’s ardent singing and guitar playing had turned Billie’s heart upside down and inside out, filling him with longing and melancholy. His first thoughts were of Curva and Sabina, how important they were to him. He also was reminded of Sighing Turtle and the songs she had sung to him and his sisters when they were children.
Recently, he had dreamed she was trying to reach him. In the dream, she was old, hair ratted and gray; she didn’t resemble the mother of his memories, but he recognized her anyway. Her blue eyes and the sound of her voice gave her away immediately. The dream wasn’t more than a sliver from a long night’s sleep. Still, it haunted him for many days.
He had mentioned the dream to Curva, and she had frozen when he described the woman in the dream. Oh Dios mio, she said, shocked, her hand covering her mouth. I met her on the trail, years ago. She said her name was Ann, not Sighing Turtle.
Billie’s eyes had widened. He said, Ann was her non-Blackfoot name. She wouldn’t have called herself Sighing Turtle then.
She said something about trying to find the Blackfoot reserve and her niños. I thought she was loca wandering around like that—so frail. Near death. She must have died looking for you and your sisters.
Billie had asked for details of the meeting, and Curva told him everything she could remember. It consoled him to think his mother might have tried to reclaim her kids and had received some comfort from Curva before she died. He realized she must have thought of Billie and his sisters often, holding them close that way. No wonder he felt such a bond with her.
That’s when he told Curva that Sabina looked a lot like Sighing Turtle. The resemblance is weird, Billie said. The hair color. The facial expressions. The eyes. I swear she’s related to me.
Maybe, Curva said, a Mona Lisa smile playing across her lips. Stranger things have happened.
Unable to sleep, Billie wasn’t surprised when Curva appeared a little while later, as if carried there by the music. His antenna had picked up on her proximity, stiffening, tingling, alerting him to her arrival. She strode into his main room, wearing her gauchos, knee-high leather riding boots, and a blue wool serape. He had never seen her look so stricken—or more beautiful, her face a road map to what she was feeling inside. Her eyes looked haunted, sunk into her face, dark circles like half-moons beneath them.
You look like you’ve seen a ghost, he said. Is Sabina okay?
Sí, sí, she’s fine. Sleeping. I have seen a ghost, Bee-lee, she rasped. Xavier.
Billie looked puzzled. But hasn’t he been visiting you regularly?
He’s an angel now. So is Suelita. They have wings and are getting married.
Aren’t both things something to celebrate?
Si. But now that he’s an angel, I don’t know when I’ll see him again.
Billie walked over and encircled Curva, nuzzling her neck. She didn’t resist, letting him embrace her, smelling cigarette and wood smoke in his hair. It felt good to let him hold her. His hard body reminded her of a sturdy tree trunk whose roots go deep into the earth. She needed something solid to hold on to. She felt her whole world had tilted, and she didn’t know how to right it again. He rocked her back and forth, the rhythm restoring her equilibrium. It wasn’t necessary to speak with Billie. He somehow absorbed anything she was feeling and left her renewed.
They stayed like that for a long time. Finally, he helped her undress, slowly, gently, almost like a parent. He took off his clothes too. He even removed the patch covering his blinded eye. Curva touched where the patch had been. He flinched.
It’s okay, she said. It’s not so bad. Do you still want to marry me, Bee-lee?
Of course. I meant what I said! But I thought you only liked walking marriages. If we marry, I won’t want to share you with other men any longer.
Curva laughed: We can just pretend we have a walking marriage, but we’ll only walk back and forth between our places.
They climbed to the lookout tower and lay on the mattress under a quilt his grandmother had made. Turning onto one side, she folded her body into his and they spooned. Slowly his polla stiffened, probing between her thighs. He stroked her breasts and nibbled at her neck and ran his hands over her whole body. Pretending she was a cat, she purred. Sí, she said, es bueno. Tan bueno.
Curva turned to him: You’re the only other man who has really touched my heart, Bee-lee. Have I touched yours too?
Sí, he said, hovering over her, licking her breasts, her stomach, lowering himself till he could probe her bush with his tongue, exploring her button first until it had doubled in size. Then he dipped his tongue in and out of her coño.
Ah, she said. Más! Más!
Gasping, she arched her back, pressing herself against his tongue, her body calling for more. Shaking, he entered her and slowly moved back and forth. Then he withdrew and circled her opening with the tip of his polla, drawing moans of pleasure from Curva. Their eyes locked. And then both exploded, their cries piercing the skylight and reaching the heavens, awakening the gods, the goddesses, and all their ancestors.
Later, they lay in each other’s arms. On such a clear night, they could easily see the constellations. Looking at the stars and holding Billie’s hand, Curva said, Tell me about them again, Bee-lee. She snuggled into his body and listened to him tell about the sun, the creator of the world, one of the spomi-tapi-ksi.10
He said, Kokomi-kisomm the moon turned against her husband Natosi the sun and the children they had—seven stars of the Big Dipper. Now she constantly chases them across Spomi, the sky. Furious, Natosi cut off one of her legs, so she has to take frequent rests. She disappears periodically to recover from the wild chase. But she never can quite reach him and the kids again, and the chase never ends. That’s why Kokomi-kisomm constantly changes shape and only appears at certain times.
Curva Peligrosa Page 27