On the other side of the lake, Marco is waiting patiently on a small grassy hill, his tail wagging and still dripping water from the swim. A good boy, he doesn’t bark and waits with his mouth open. The bright orbs continue on land, moving from buoys on water to thick standing lamps on shore leading to the entrance, an ornate wrought-iron gate covered in vines of bright yellow and orange flowers. Behind the gate, the mansion on the hill emerges like a mountain, its gigantic white pillars also covered in flowering vines.
Corvus puts her hands on her waist and realizes she is out of breath. The sand sticks to her feet and sore ankles. Amber pulls the canoe away from the water and the growing current and clicks her tongue. Marco barks once and obediently runs down the hill, ears and wrinkles of fur and skin flapping wildly. Like he was never absent from her side, Marco looks up at Amber with his strangely skinny tongue hanging from one side of his mouth, appearing more relaxed and youthful than she’s seen him in a long time.
Good swim? she asks. He doesn’t make a noise but seems eager to say something. He rolls on his back and starts being funny, eyes wide open. There is a bloodstain on his coat, but from what Amber can tell, it isn’t his own blood. She touches the stain and Marco makes no outcry, there’s no wound. He looks happy and at peace.
Not far from where they are standing, there is another bloodstain on the concrete near the gate. It looks as though something was repeatedly bashed over and over again into the ground. Bits of red, smashed matter. Everything else within view, even the intricate design of the shiny chrome gate, appears to be polished clean except for this one savage spot. Corvus walks closer, beads of sweat blinking on her collarbone and forehead, and looks through the gaps of the fence. Tall trees and lush gardens guard the other side: dahlias, peonies, and anemones. The ornate perimeter appears to stretch forever around the mansion.
A strong wind picks up and shakes the branches. They can hear the sound of a squeaky door opening farther up the hill. There is a figure walking out of the mansion down the marble path to the gate, hidden in the dark. The footsteps are heavy boots. There are waves rippling in the lake behind them and all kinds of splashing sounds. Corvus can hear snorting and deep breathing not far from the shore. She gently holds the back of Amber’s neck and pulls her in. She says, I can hear something. I can hear something. Can you hear that?
Still holding Amber’s neck, Corvus squeezes tighter and asks, Amber, what’s out there? What the fuck?
You can see.
I can see?
Moans, bellows, and huffing and puffing sounds create a dome around them, as though Corvus and Amber are surrounded. Corvus looks to her left then right and then left again. Past the lamps, on the other side of the line of buoys and thin nets underwater, large, shiny wet mammals are surfacing from the black water and walking on shore toward the woods in darkness. Unable to make out what they are, Corvus holds her breath and grips her chest with her tired hand. Approaching the light, Amber blocks Corvus’s line of sight. The wild animals crowd and muscle and grunt past the lamps.
Hippos, says Amber.
What the fuck, Corvus says.
Hippos, says Amber.
Hippos?
Hippopotamuses, says Amber. Hippopotame.
They spend their lives in water, says a new voice.
A woman in a red robe and boots approaches the gate from the mansion. In one hand, she holds an unopened bottle of champagne, and in the other, an empty glass. The robed woman says, That’s actually a common mistake, a misconception. They spend a lot of their time in water. They like walking around on land, too, only at night, though.
She enters a code into a number pad on her side of the fence and the gate unlocks with a mechanical, echoing screech. Suddenly, the island lights up around them: the streetlamps glow brighter, searchlights appear in the trees, tiny embedded garden lights open in the ground, and kerosene torches burst alive like a consciousness across the property.
Amber says, Camila. Marco barks.
Turning around, Corvus can see the hippos slowly walking to the shadow of the woods beyond the mansion, a few even running there, save for one very large male walking comfortably to the entrance, snorting visible puffs into the cold air. Corvus looks at him approaching in the grass, then back to the red spot on the concrete, and walks over to look at the debris. Camila opens the gate and slips through.
She says, That’s where I smash heads.
Amber says, Camila. This is Corvus. Marco barks.
The large male walks over to Camila, not five yards away from Corvus, who cannot stop staring. The rest of the pod are heading to the woods and Camila makes a gesture with her hand to the largest hippo, a motion of patting the air as though saying simmer down, and the animal stays. Camila makes eye contact with Corvus and says, Hi, Corvus. Corvus, this is Valerie, my alpha male. They’re not usually this friendly.
The animal remains docile, his wet ears flicking away hungry gnats. He seems so big, it’s as though he’s still moving, his fat and skin shiny and mesmerizing.
Camila says, Corvus, I know your work. I like you. Welcome to my home.
Camila says, Are you okay, Corvus? You look like you’re going to faint.
Corvus says, I’m not going to faint.
I know, says Camila. I said you just look like it.
Corvus says, Hi, Valerie. She is nearly hyperventilating; her collarbone rises up and down with her lungs. Valerie blinks his black eyes and yawns, opening his jaw four feet wide. Corvus says, Hi, Valerie, and faints on the concrete, scraping a spot on her elbow bloody as she hits the ground. Marco barks.
CHAPTER 8
CORVUS WAKES UP SORE IN A SILK ROBE IN A LARGE BED with fresh sheets and a fluffy comforter. She doesn’t remember what she dreams of anymore. It has been that way for years now, but it no longer bothers her. There is something peaceful in not knowing. Waking up without dreaming is like taking off a black mask. No longer feeling grimy or stressed out, Corvus keeps her body still and takes a moment to realize where she is. The ceilings are high and the walls are painted a faded gold. Her elbow is bandaged in white gauze. She is not dead, she is alive. Corvus takes solace in the fact that there is nowhere she needs to be, nowhere she needs to go. She lies in bed and listens for any signs of life within or beyond the walls.
She misses Perry. Like a panic, she misses Perry with her whole being, and it’s suddenly as though her body is a kind of costume, and there’s something missing between who she is and whatever is walking around empty in the world. She wishes for his smell, for his strong legs to wrap around hers. It’s as though she’s been freezing for much too long a time, always cold in her hands and feet, unable to get warm and somehow, now she’s colder. Grief is this strange chill, a dead space where there was once fire and comfort, and she fears there is no relief coming.
Someone knocks on the door. Corvus feels a little dizzy and her vision doubles before there is a second knock, this time with the door opening. She loosens her grip on the comforter, taking long blinks. The wound itches under the gauze.
Camila enters the room and says, I’m sorry I don’t have someone here for you. She sits down in a wicker chair and scoots closer to the headboard. It’s the off-season, so all my help is gone. She waits and asks, How is the elbow? How dreadful.
Corvus doesn’t say anything.
Camila asks, Should I leave and let you rest a little while longer?
Where’s Amber? Corvus asks. She gets up on her elbows, trying not to grimace from the sting, and sits up.
She’s coming, my dear.
Corvus asks, Where the fuck is Amber?
Camila says, She’s coming. The pain on her face is visible. It’s as though Corvus has committed an intimate and great offense, asking for someone else. Camila straightens her back and smiles at Corvus. She rises from the wicker chair and yells down the hallway, Amber! Amber!
Amber’s voice calls back from downstairs. She screams, Yes?
Camila doesn’t say anything else, and after a
few moments, footsteps rush up the stairs from down the hallway. Amber appears on the threshold, already smiling with her bright eyes. Nothing is strange or out of sorts on Amber’s face. She looks relaxed and at ease, as though she’s at home here, and the comfort almost brings Corvus to tears.
Amber says, You look good, Corvus. She runs to the bed on excited feet, wearing the same kind of silk robe as Corvus, and leans to her ear still smiling. Amber whispers, We did it, we’re safe and chill here.
Camila has stepped out into the hallway, where she stands patiently with her arms crossed, the faded gold paint on the walls matching her gold-painted fingernails. Amber looks at Corvus and nods. She says, It’s good here. Better pay, better place.
Amber leans closer and whispers, And we’re the only ones here. Just us three. Camila says we can sleep on it and we can sign new contracts for new films whenever we feel like it. She whispers even more softly, And the shoots will be just us two. It’s the off-season. Camila is making a special exception.
Corvus says, Just us.
Amber says, You and me. Sometimes Camila, but it’s very rare.
Corvus says, Wait a minute.
Amber kisses her forehead and says, I’m so sorry. I left something in the oven downstairs, I’ll be right back!
Amber runs out of the room and yells, You can sleep on it! Her footsteps pound from wood to marble to inaudible and nothing. Camila, too, is gone, absent from the doorway. The room almost floats without their faces. Corvus wipes her mouth with her hands and jumps from the bed, surprised by her sudden strength and the immediate rush of blood to her head. The hardwood floor is cold, and she wraps the robe closer to her body as she heads to the hallway. She unwraps her bandage and lets the rags fall to the ground. The wound does not look raw and is already healing in a scab. It doesn’t disgust her.
Around the corner, as if expecting her, Camila approaches with a tray of cheese and crackers, champagne and orange juice. Near her knees, Marco follows, with five other almost identical dogs following behind.
Camila says, You’ve been out nearly two days.
Corvus asks, Why are you doing this for us?
Are you ordinary? Are you run-of-the-mill? No, says Camila quickly. I tried to tell you when you arrived. I know your work and I want to get to know you and offer you a proposal. I think you’re special, dear.
Corvus says, You don’t know me.
Camila comes closer and whispers, Can I explain myself? The magnetism tickles, her voice gets a little deeper.
Corvus says, Okay.
They go back into the room and clink glasses filled with orange bubbly. All the dogs sit in the same position, watching flying songbirds outside the window. Camila says, Cheers, dear. Silently, at first, they drink.
Corvus watches Marco, wanting to will him to come and sit next to her but he doesn’t move. She is not even completely certain she knows which dog is Marco, so she clicks her tongue, causing Camila to laugh, choking on her champagne.
Not one dog reacts, six panting tongues, six faint shadows on the floor.
Do you know that feeling? Someone you know surprises you. That feeling when someone you know—and it’s someone you’re not particularly close to, this isn’t your best friend, just an acquaintance—they shock you. They take you by complete surprise. They say something so true and so poignant about you, it’s a sledgehammer. It wakes you up. And it’s just a small thing, dear, whatever they say, it’s just some small detail about you. How you laugh, a mannerism, a tell, they translate your body language back to you. And it doesn’t matter what they say really, it’s more the fact they noticed, this more or less stranger has been watching you and admiring you. They were watching you this whole time and you were unaware. This suddenly beautiful stranger.
Camila takes another sip of her mimosa, finishing the glass. Amber picks up a knife, walks past Corvus to the windowsill, and cuts a piece of apple pie, which is still steaming in the breeze. She takes a bite and gives the plate to Camila, who mouths, Thank you, dear.
Camila says, That’s who Amber was for me, someone who just appears in your life, someone who was always there. We were on set one evening, I believe it was five years ago or something, and she was darling. I realized we’d never spoken before and all that changed soon after that night. Camila claps her hands free of crumbs. Walking around the room, she collects their plates and clears her throat. Leaning in, she says, I’m sorry if I scared you with the hippopotamus. Really, I am.
Corvus forks her pie, taking cheese from Amber’s plate. Corvus nods and says, That’s okay, it was just incredibly unexpected. I’ve never seen a hippo before. The metal fork scratches the plate.
They’re great protection, says Camila. Her eyes are green, dilated, and sparkling. Camila rubs the back of Corvus’s shoulder and walks over to a large armoire and opens the top drawer. Corvus can smell marijuana as the breeze reaches her.
They’re terribly grumpy, territorial creatures, says Camila, revealing a clear glass pipe. Before I bought them, I watched one snap a crocodile in half with just one snap of his jaw. Right in front of me, she says. It was one of the most visceral things I had ever seen. Blood in the water rippling out everywhere. Four-thousand-pound, aggressive vegetarians.
Amber says, I don’t think they’re vegetarians. I’ve heard they eat meat sometimes.
So perfect to guard my island, Camila says, lighting the bowl with a match, and I enjoy watching them. She hands the pipe to Amber and lifts her head and blows smoke to the high ceiling. The smoke clouds and disappears. You just can’t treat them like they won’t erupt, says Camila. Her eyes grow red and more dilated. Because they will erupt, she says, just like how any one of us can erupt, and explode.
Amber holds up the cheese and says, I’ve never had this before.
Camila looks back and says, It’s really good.
Corvus forks more pie and sticks a piece of cheddar on top. Corvus says, Amber, you did that, so I did that.
Amber chews and says, It’s really good, this cheese-and-pie combo.
Corvus asks, Where did you get them?
The cheese?
Corvus says, The hippos. Camila hands the pipe to her and Corvus takes a match. Camila and Amber suddenly look at each other and pause. They start laughing loudly together, almost in perfect unison. Corvus lights the pipe and closes her eyes.
Camila says, You won’t believe me.
Corvus asks, What? Try me.
Camila looks at Amber then back to Corvus and says, Pablo Escobar.
What are you talking about?
Amber says, No, listen. For real.
Pablo Escobar, says Camila, mainly because he wanted them there, housed countless pods of aggressive hippos on his main living estate in Colombia. When his empire fell, the hippos remained, and the Colombian government had no idea what to do with this non-native species. They started the desperate messaging of: Free if you take them from us. Zoos, scientists, billionaires, and other interested parties all heeded the call.
Corvus says, And porn stars.
Camila says, And adult entertainment moguls, yes. I can have hippos too, my dear. I can have hippos if I damn well want them.
Corvus reaches for the pipe and smiles and says, The lives we live.
Camila says, I know no other way.
Amber asks, What are we doing tonight? The windows glare with sunlight, the lake shimmers on the horizon. Corvus can’t see anything but water. Above them, as in nearly all the rooms, the mirrored ceilings reflect the glowing chandeliers. Tiny burning candlesticks. They smoke and can’t feel a thing.
Camila says, Party, dear. We are going to party.
After night falls, Corvus explores the island beyond the mansion. Stepping into the line of glowing lamps, she can see the island is special. Gigantic art structures come into view, and, along her walk, she finds garden mazes scattered throughout the property. Corvus imagines spending the rest of her life in this place, growing old, walking this strange island. The moonlig
ht on the lake shimmers and draws her closer. She passes by a row of black marble dog statues, each the size of a Toyota Corolla. They all look like Marco. Corvus approaches one on the wet grass and touches the cold statue. I love you, Marco, she says.
High on a marble land bridge, Corvus watches the hippos from a safe distance, and looks up at the moving blackness accumulating in the sky. It looks like rain and more. She plays a game she used to play when she was younger, something she used to do to distract herself from her mother. Corvus imagines the wind breaking her apart during a storm: each breeze carries off just a microscopic bit of her; each breeze takes her a little farther away into the atmosphere until all that’s left of her is her mind glowing alone in a vacuum, no longer really thinking, no longer in pain. There is freedom in believing you are through, in giving up, in believing there is nothing left to do with yourself. Corvus looks to the beach. If possible, she thinks, she could stay here forever.
The black clouds overhead keep moving and forming. Strangely, the hippos float single file on the lake. Corvus leans on the railing and wonders which one is Valerie. They don’t seem to be aware of her looking at them from above. A wave of nausea moves through her with the wind as she watches the pod. She trembles in her favorite sweater.
Footsteps approach. Certain moments fill her heart with sharp adrenaline, such as suddenly having to speak with strangers. Camila walks closer with a sway to her hips, her finger gliding along on the cold railing. Corvus turns to look, and when she turns her head back around, she can no longer make out the hippopotamus. She leans farther over the railing, but Corvus can only see murky water, a thousand tiny waves. No hippos.
Camila walks the length of the bridge toward Corvus, neither making eye contact with the other.
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