Annie Malkovich nodded sadly. ‘A woman can’t do . . . well . . . that kind of work – if we want to call it work – at home, with a child in the next room. That poor fellow barely went to school. The house was always full of scum, often violent men, because whoever does that kind of thing certainly can’t call himself a good person. And on top of all that, Mary was an alcoholic. Our poor Marcus had the most terrible time growing up.’
‘It must have been awful . . .’ Penny, for whom this account explained everything, whispered. She imagined Marcus as a little boy, locked in a room, plugging his ears while on the other side of the wall his drunken mother fell prey to violent men. Unlike Annie Malkovich, Penny didn’t judge Marcus’s mother for what had happened. She felt sorry for her. She too seemed a victim of unhappy circumstances. Just like little Marcus.
This time, she was unable to stop the tears from flooding her eyes.
‘That’s right, dear,’ Annie went on, ‘I can’t think about it without crying either, especially given what happened later. It’s no surprise if a child who was witness to all kinds of abuse against his mother grows up and tries to kill someone.’
Penny shivered, the tears still rolling down her cheeks.
‘Fortunately he only wounded him, but that’s when social services finally woke up to what was going on in that house, and took the boy away. It was the right thing to do, mind you – they couldn’t have gone on like that any longer – but I’m not sure that the institution was the best solution, considering that’s where Marcus met Francisca Lopez.’
‘She was there too?’ Penny blurted out.
‘He didn’t tell you? Well, I’m not surprised he didn’t. Maybe he didn’t want to make you jealous. Francisca Lopez didn’t help him at all – she only dragged him down. She was a violent kid – so violent she burned down her stepfather’s house right after her mother died. And she was a real thug, the kind who beats people up for fun. She and Marcus brought out the worst in each other. That’s why Monty and I were so happy when you came into Marcus’s life. You know how to give him the love he’s never had. Francisca only gave him hate.’
Penny put her hand over her heart. She imagined the two of them, all alone like two flowers far apart in the desert, scarred by their violent childhoods, immersed in a perennial darkness, meeting and then finally blossoming. She thought back to the photo she’d seen of those weary young faces and the anger that seethed in their eyes. She understood once and for all, like a youngster being told Santa Claus isn’t real, that nothing she could say or do would ever replace all that complicity between them. Marcus and Francisca kept one another afloat when the stormy sea threatened to pull them down, they fed and quenched each other’s thirst, they had grown up together and were destined to remain united until the end of their days, however long that might mean.
But still Penny wanted to cry, because hers was an ordinary love, a selfish love. She simply wanted Marcus all for herself, but she could never have him.
Annie Malkovich put a hand on her arm, interrupting her train of sad thoughts.
‘Life isn’t easy for anyone. We all need people to help get us through. Thank goodness Marcus now has you in his life. Let’s go downstairs now. Dinner is ready.’
Penny felt too sad to eat, but tried to do justice to the dinner Mrs Malkovich had prepared. She had the distinct impression that Marcus was throwing her questioning looks. She replied with enormous smiles for the benefit of their hosts, who interpreted these glances and expressions as exchanges of love and were more than satisfied with what they saw.
After dinner, they found themselves chatting in the living room.
‘Please keep it up, Marcus,’ Monty Malkovich said at one point. ‘Work, home and Penny. I wrote a very satisfactory report to the judge about your progress and I have good news for you in return. I gave my personal guarantee that you won’t be trying to leave the state, and they gave me this for you.’
From a drawer he drew out Marcus’s driver’s licence and handed it to him.
Marcus let out a grumble – maybe a thank you or maybe a nothing – and slid the licence into his pocket.
‘Thank you so much,’ Penny said on his behalf.
‘I know, of course, that a licence without a means of transport is fairly lacking in value, so I reached out to a good used-car dealer – here’s his address. He’s trustworthy and honest, and he’ll take good care of you.’ He handed him a business card bearing the stylised logo of a car.
Marcus accepted it without saying a word.
Penny once more thanked Mr Malkovich, convinced now of one thing: he and his wife were certainly passionate about saving young men from the road to perdition in general, but they felt especially protective towards Marcus because he reminded them of their dead son.
Around ten, Marcus and Penny called a cab and Malkovich paid the fare back to their neighbourhood. Before setting off, Penny embraced Mr and Mrs Malkovich with sincere affection. Marcus limited himself to two silent handshakes.
As they were leaving, Penny turned to look back at them, and they looked old to her, like two abandoned parents trying to save other people’s children because they hadn’t been able to save their own.
In the cab, Marcus looked at Penny with curiosity.
‘Can I ask what the problem is? You’re pale as a ghost. What were you doing with Mrs Malkovich upstairs for half an hour? When you were gone, I had to put up with a million bullshit questions from Malkovich.’
‘They’re good people. Don’t speak ill of them.’
‘Why were you crying when you came down?’
‘I was moved by Annie’s collection of glass swans.’
‘Bullshit. What happened up there?’
‘Nothing serious. Just . . . she told me about her dead son, and I couldn’t hold back my tears.’
Marcus studied her, unconvinced. ‘Are you sure she didn’t tell you some tearjerker story about me?’
‘Of course not.’
He was about to reply when Penny saw something out the window that caught her eye. She leaned over to Marcus’s side, practically leaping over him.
‘Stop!’ she ordered the cab driver, who slammed on the brakes in reaction.
‘What’s going on?’ the tired-looking guy asked.
‘Keep the rest of the fare. We’ll get off here.’
She dragged Marcus out to an enormous winter carnival that stretched, colourful and grandiose, for the length of two or three blocks. There was cheerful music in the air, and although it was only November, to Penny it seemed like Christmas.
‘Can we go?’ she asked, her eyes shining.
‘No way. It’ll all be kids and couples, and besides, I have to work.’
‘OK, you go then, I’ll stay,’ Penny said, barely able to conceal her disappointment. She had no intention whatsoever of leaving. She desperately wanted to experience a winter festival like the ones in the movies. Doing it alone wouldn’t be so fun, of course, but she’d make do.
Marcus stopped in front of the entrance, where a small crowd had lined up to go inside, one hand on his hip, the other holding a freshly lit cigarette.
‘You’re a fucking bitch,’ he muttered.
‘See you later!’ she exclaimed, heading for the line.
He grabbed her by the wrist for a moment. ‘We have to leave at eleven.’
‘Does that mean you’ll stay?’
He studied her silently. The burning tobacco at the tip of his cigarette glowed more brightly for a moment as he took a drag without taking his eyes off her. ‘You’re quite a mystery, in your own way,’ he said finally.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I can never understand what’s going on in that head of yours. Sometimes you’re like an actual adult and other times, like right now, you pull all these faces and I get the terrible suspicion that I’m having sex with a little girl in disguise. You really twenty-two?’
‘Don’t worry. You’re not going to prison for child corruption any time
soon. I’m twenty-three years old on the 20th of December. In any case, we’re never just the one thing, are we? You think you have one persona, but I’m pretty sure you also have a nice little tangle of different personalities going on. OK, let’s go! I don’t want to waste any more precious time just talking.’
She instinctively reached for his hand, with no thought for the significance of the gesture or his possible reaction, and only once they were inside did she realise he hadn’t withdrawn it. She squeezed it harder and thought that happiness smelled of cotton candy on a cold night, with Marcus smoking and grumbling by her side.
Penny had a great time. There wasn’t enough time or money to stop in front of all the attractions on offer and play every game, but even wandering around was fun. She was thrilled by the novelty of shooting at a stack of cans with a wooden gun and winning a stuffed toy with a battery, so that if you pressed its back it said, ‘I’m the coolest!’ She didn’t keep it for herself though; she gave it to a little girl who was crying because her cotton candy had fallen on the ground.
Suddenly they found themselves facing an elaborate structure in the shape of a palace, with two beckoning entrances: one, painted in pink, had a shining sign saying ‘Tunnel of Love’; the other, all black, was called ‘Labyrinth of Horror’.
‘Don’t even think about it – I’m serious,’ said Marcus, looking at the pink castle like it was a steaming heap of manure.
‘You mean, don’t think about entering the Tunnel of Love?’ she said. ‘So how about the Labyrinth of Horror then, big man? Let’s see what you’re really made of.’
‘What is there to be afraid of? Plastic skeletons?’
She laughed. ‘You never know, maybe you’ll be more scared than you think. I promise we can go after this one last thing, OK?’
‘All right then, but if it’s just an excuse to touch me, know that you don’t need one. Just tell me and take your panties off.’
‘You’re such a gentleman, Marcus, so discreet – but don’t worry, I don’t want to touch you. Right now I’m pretending to be ten years old, and I just want to have fun and eat cotton candy. So can we go inside?’
The carnival’s other clientele must have been very romantically minded, as the Labyrinth of Horror was deserted, except for a few blindfolded mummies and a couple of fake zombies that suddenly leapt out of the darkness. Penny and Marcus followed a long path that occasionally branched off and made them run into various types of monsters, who popped out with pre-recorded diabolical laughter and spooky music.
Suddenly, however, in a spot barely illuminated by a flashing neon light, Penny let out a scream. When she realised what had scared her, she burst out into nervous laughter. It was only herself, reflected in a funhouse mirror. She looked three times taller and fatter.
Reflected in the same mirror, Marcus, already tall and huge to begin with, looked positively gigantic.
‘I told you it was an excuse,’ he said.
Penny pulled back, realising only now that she had been clinging to his chest.
‘Sorry,’ she muttered, moving away.
‘You don’t have to apologise,’ he replied mockingly. ‘What are you sorry about? Did I give you the impression I didn’t want to be touched?’
She didn’t answer him, just bit her lip and walked on. Escorted by the music that repeated itself obsessively, they walked in silence through the rest of the labyrinth. A few new monsters popped out, but by no stretch of the imagination could they be regarded as terrifying. Penny was much more afraid of what she was about to say.
‘I lied to you,’ she whispered, as if she didn’t really want to be heard.
‘When?’ Marcus asked, sounding slightly alarmed.
‘Mrs Malkovich told me about you, and I encouraged her. Forgive me. It was intrusive. If you want to kill me and bury me right here and now, go ahead.’
Marcus said nothing. He looked for a cigarette but couldn’t find one.
‘So, what did she tell you?’ he asked.
Penny gave him a quick summary of the revelations, without including the negative comments about his mother and Francisca.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said when she was done.
She saw him shrug his shoulders in the shadows. ‘So you were crying for me.’
‘Yeah, that too.’
‘There’s really nothing to cry about. You can spare me your compassion.’
‘It’s not compassion.’
‘Oh no? So what is it then?’
It’s love, you asshole.
‘I’m sorry because you . . .’
‘. . . stabbed that son of a bitch in the back? I’m only sorry I didn’t kill him, but it wasn’t up to me. If they’d have let me, I’d have slashed his jugular. Unfortunately, Sherrie got in the way.’
‘Did she live with you?’
‘Close to us. She’d just finished up with some guy, heard the screams and came and took the scissors from me. I’d sharpened them on purpose. It was premeditated, you know. That guy had already tried to hurt my mom the one time, so I was prepared when he came back. I loved seeing his blood splatter. He was a useless piece of shit. The kind of guy who beats his hookers.’
‘You’re right.’
‘What?’
‘You’re right that he was a piece of shit. It would have been no great loss to the world if he’d died, but I’m glad Sherrie stopped you.’
‘That’s when social services put me in an institution. It was a horrible place, but after a couple of years I met Francisca. They didn’t want us to be together, but at night we’d jump the gates that separated the boys from the girls and do whatever we wanted. It was hardly a maximum-security prison. That part was fun.’
‘Was she your first?’
Marcus laughed. ‘Nope. My first time was back when I was fourteen. She was a twenty-year-old hooker, a real bitch – I mean, one of the many girls my mom used to hang out with, though don’t imagine she forced me or whatever. They were decent whores. They didn’t even touch me by accident. I had to ask for it. I insisted and she finally gave in. Francisca and I got together a whole lot later. We had a great time, she and I, we became one, and when we fucked, we forgot about everything around us. So we fucked a lot, because we both had a lot to forget.’
‘Have you ever had sex just for love? Just for the pleasure of being with someone, and not to forget or to take your mind off something else?’
Marcus laughed again, so loudly this time that his voice, mingling with the disturbing music, seemed almost gruesome.
‘That’s what sex is for, Penny. In all the pleasure you forget all the disgust you’re carrying around. There is no other kind of sex.’
Penny looked down at the bumpy path, covered with a long black carpet. Her heart shrank so small that it disappeared somewhere, lost in the vast cavern of her ribcage.
‘So did you see your mom again?’ she asked, to change the subject.
‘Yeah, after I left juvenile detention, though by then she was dying.’
‘Dying?’
‘She got cancer – uterine, like some demon wanted to punish her.’
‘And your father?’
‘Can a whore’s son ever know who his father is? Even she had no idea. Not that I ever gave a shit.’
‘And you and Francisca . . .’
‘We’ve stayed together. I’ve had a crazy life with her. We’ve done the most stupid and dangerous things, but then that mess happened and we ended up in prison.’
‘And now you’re here.’
‘Now I’m here. We don’t have long now.’
‘Just until Francisca gets out?’ Penny asked, shaking her head in defeat at the thought of this special bond between Marcus and Francisca. It was too much for her to take in. There was no possibility that the present she and Marcus were sharing could ever measure up to his extraordinary, crazy, violent past with Francisca, full of sex and violence.
‘No, I mean we’re at the end of the maze. There’s a light and the music’s
stopped. Hurry up now or they’ll fire me, and I don’t know about you but I can’t afford for that to happen.’
‘OK, I’ll get out here. See you later,’ Penny said, jumping out of the cab they’d been forced to take so they wouldn’t be late. She was still dressed up like a schoolgirl and needed to change.
But as soon as she got out of the car, she felt like she’d been catapulted into a burning well. Grant was standing in front of the Well Purple entrance, and she was sure he was waiting for her. He was prowling nervously, checking his wristwatch and maybe wondering why she hadn’t shown up yet.
Penny stood, paralysed.
‘You OK?’ asked Marcus.
‘Yes,’ she lied, staring at Grant, who still hadn’t noticed her.
But Marcus must have picked up on something in her voice, the uncertainty of her lie, some forced vibration, because he followed her out of the cab and looked over in Grant’s direction.
‘What’s going on?’ he asked again. ‘And don’t bullshit me.’
Penny forced herself to smile. ‘Nothing, really, it’s just that it’s late. I should go or I’ll get in trouble.’
She walked faster, wriggling out of Marcus’s grip on her shoulder, and rushed past Grant in the hope that he wouldn’t notice her and would leave, thinking she wasn’t there. But he turned around and caught her just as she stepped over the threshold, and a snake-like smile spread across his face.
Penny crossed the human tide that was already beginning to fill the room and entered the tiny staff area to change. She kept her eyes glued the whole time to the folding door, which had no key, fearing that Grant would come bearing some evil surprise. She was just putting on her shoes with some relief when suddenly there he was, right in front of her. The music and the voices outside had drowned out the hiss produced by the door as it opened. Now he was standing there, staring at her with his usual menacing leer.
Trying Not To Love You Page 19