Monstrosity

by Laura Diaz De Arce

  The reality Emily thinks she inhabits is not the reality the rest of us know. To her, the long-exaggerated looks are just the looks of her adoring public. She hums as she approaches the park. This park probably looks better in her mind than it really is, so we'll imagine what she sees: majestic trees bursting with vibrant green leaves rising from soft grass that you could just lie in like a bed. Birds, real birds chirping and singing away in those trees. Beautiful, wonderful, amazing birds. They sound so pretty and sweet she thinks. And man, do those flowers smell great! Not a dropped soda can or beer bottle in sight that Emily notices. No, she just prances down the friendly sidewalk like the beauty queen she is.

  Up ahead there is a small crowd. Well, that piques Emily’s interest. Our little heroine comes up to see that they are watching a street performer. A magician! How quaint, and he is pulling out all the favorites: rabbit from a hat, card tricks, the solid rings that separate, and every other corny and played out gag in the book. But man, the kids are eating it up! So is Emily—she is enchanted by the man in suit, cape and top hat as he gracefully waves his jewel-tipped magic wand. In her eyes he is some weird mesh of a wizard and a knight in shining armor brandishing a sword. Her messed up head believes he is magic, and she is delighted. She can’t look away. She cheers and claps at every trick. She holds her breath in before every revelation. She loves his clean-shaven square jaw and perfect smile, she doesn’t notice his missing tooth or the large mole on his cheek. This magic is so exciting. Her favorite is when he pulls the dove out of a napkin— it's stuffed, he can't afford to keep a real bird. When he finishes his shtick and packs up, picking up the change in the box, Emily stays. Their eyes meet, and he is in love.

  No, not really. This isn’t that kind of story.

  No, what the Astounding Liam— that’s his stage name, not very original— sees is a big doe-eyed mess. But he knows that look and that mess, for he was a heroin addict and homeless two years ago. He got himself arrested and turned his life around. What he sees is a beautiful woman in that drugged up stupor and he thinks: Hey, I can save her. I can mold her. Shit, she’s hot, I may just get laid. He mistakes this for love, his heart being mostly in the right place, so we can’t blame him for approaching her and offering a meal.

  “Did you enjoy the show?”

  “Oh yes! So much!”

  “You can call me The Astounding Liam,” he says bowing gallantly, “or just Liam. And you are?”

  “I’m Emily.”

  She puts out her hand and he sees her dirty, chipped nails, but he still kisses it.

  “Would you like to grab a bite?”

  “Oh! I would love to!”

  Liam takes her to a nearby burger place, it’s cheap but clean. Emily is curious about these unusual feelings she’s having and she thinks she may be in love with this knight, too. She thinks he’s got real bona fide magic. She asks all about his tricks, but a magician never reveals his secrets. Liam orders for her and tells her his life story while he continuously glances down at her perfect tits — all thanks to Dr. Wexel, he’s a magician in his own right (they were a gift for her eighteenth birthday). He tells her about how he grew up on the wrong side of town... yadda yadda... drugs...needles... Then he gets to the part where he gets arrested and has that wake-up call in jail. Now he has a good job at the grocery store and does magic on his days off ’cause he loves it and it’s a little extra cash. Here’s the good part: He leans across the table, puts his hand over hers and says “I can help you, you know. I’ve been where you’re at, and I know what you’re going through. Let me help you.”

  Of course, Emily says yes.

  Liam takes her home with him, leading our girl gently into his bachelor pad. He gives her a large T-shirt and boxers to change into and tells her that the bathroom is the first door on the right. When she has washed herself again, this time with soap, brushed her hair with the small comb a hundred times one, two, three, four..., and folded her favorite dress just the right way she comes out.

  He has been waiting on the couch for a long time wondering what had happened. Her tea is getting cold. When she comes out, she notices sadly that he has also changed out of his magician’s outfit into some sweat pants and a T-shirt as well. It reads in garish orange letters: “The Fourth Annual Magic Conference.” The magic has disappeared. She notices that the bird he pulled out before is lying on the table. She sees its fake glass eyes and grows more chagrined. Emily’s high is waning a bit, this is just one of those cohesive cycles, close to withdrawal but not quite. He hands her the cup of microwaved tea and sits her on the couch, trying to decide his next move. Does he turn on the TV? Ask her about herself? No, she may not be comfortable.

  He feigns confidence. “Would you like something else?” he asks with his best performer's smile.

  “No, I’m fine.” Emily’s wide eyes curiously scan the room. She is becoming more and more coherent as she sits. It’s a lucid cycle, which will go away. She looks to see if there are things she would like to take with her when she leaves. Soap … yes, this shirt … yes, maybe some canned food, definitely the bird. He isn’t so attractive close up. It’s a pretty tidy little place he has.

  “So, where do you live?” he said, trying to goad some relevant information from her.

  “Oh, a place.” Her eyes continue to wander. A book, half wrapped in brown paper on the floor, with a beautiful bird on the cover. She picks it up. The Learner’s Guide to Ornithology.

  “Oh that, my uncle’s a big bird watcher and sent me that for my birthday. Do you like birds?” Liam says, trying to catch her eyes and noticing that perfect upturned nose, also thanks to Dr. Wexel. Damn, he thinks, she’s really gone. Do I still take her to bed? Nah, won’t be good tonight. “Maybe you should stay here for a while, I can take care of you while you get clean.” He lays a hand on her shoulder.

  Far away she answers “Okay.” Emily will definitely be taking the book when she leaves, and she has stopped listening.

  It’s getting late. Our knight in shining armor sets her up on the couch with a few old blankets and pillows, and says goodnight. He heads to his room, rubs one out, then lays down for a deep and elated sleep. I’m going to save her, is his last thought. In his dreams he plots out their future together: They’ll grow close as she gets clean. They’ll live together and she’ll get a job as a receptionist or something. On his days off she’ll act as his beautiful assistant during the show, drawing lots of crowds and coin. They’ll fuck like animals. They’ll get married, move into a nice house and have some kids. Liam’s almost more delusional than Emily. He thinks it’s all the drugs, but the drugs are a relatively small problem. The slurred words, hallucinations, and empty eyes are what brought the drugs, not vice-versa. “The doctor doesn’t know shit,” mama said driving home. Maybe he didn’t. Bipolarity, schizophrenia, maybe even borderline psychosis—neither that doctor nor any of the others they’d seen were quite sure. Emily didn’t fit in one state just right. She lingers in a world that is sometimes the real one, but often not. Clozapine, Lorazepam, Diazepam, Depakote, Wellbutrin, Invega, and Lithium later, nothing worked quite right. The ones that were close made her tired and gain weight and “We can’t have that,” as Mama said. She got connected, got on new shit and used that to feel better, taking anything and everything she could buy or steal. One day she thought Huh, I’m doing all right. I’m going to get out of here, and Mama convinced her of it later that day when she started yelling. For the past few weeks her routine has been she getting up, getting high, shitting, pissing, eating, stealing, getting high and sleeping; almost like clockwork. It’s really been quite peaceful.

  All night The Learner’s Guide to Ornithology keeps her attention. Ornithology. Or-ni-thaw-li-gee. Ohr-nih-thaw-logy. It tastes like such a sweet word, and the study so wonderful. Bird after beautiful bird in their nests and in flight. In case you didn’t notice by her macabre decor, she loves birds. Mama thought they were filthy, but Emily adored them. Their grace and poise like the perfect pageant
ry. They were the beauty queens of the natural world. Birds were real-life angels and all that shit. As a little girl, Emily pretended she was a bird, jumped out of a tree, broke her arm and ankles. That moment of flight was the best high she ever had. Emily dreams of birds.

  In the morning, Liam finds her drooling on the book. She could do no wrong; he found it endearing. He showers, dresses, has a protein bar and some coffee, then writes a note about where to find the food and his work number. He asks his neighbor to check up on her every once in a while, before he heads to work. The neighbor barely listens, does not care and will do no such thing, even as he nods. Liam has a skip in his step as he walks to the bus. He envisions a glorious future and he can't wait to get home to start it with her.

  When Emily wakes up in the afternoon, she reads and tosses the note away like an annoyed kitten given an offensive toy. She eats, showers and brushes her hair a hundred times one, two, three, four..., packs up some of his shit and leaves for home. Take the book and the bird. She is amazingly coherent for being in withdrawal, a state she will fix soon enough.

  Needless to say, Liam is pissed when he gets home. Can’t trust a junkie, he thinks as he slams through the apartment. “That bitch, that fucking ungrateful fucking bitch!” He calls the police. In some ways, he has dodged a bullet. There was no way he could save her. He isn’t a knight in shining armor and he has no magic.

  The wind has tilted Emily's birds so she meticulously puts them back. Emily finds her stash and does a nice big dose. She lays back on her bed of stuffed animals enjoying the book. The dove, peacock, and mockingbird race by. No, fly by. The high comes, a peaceful, wonderful, exciting high. Better than any orgasm. The hallucination comes too (chemical or biological, you decide). Birds, their wings flap. Emily, mmm ih lee, the call, the sound of a wing cutting the air. The hum of the humming bird. MMMM, ihhhh leee. What bird is Emily? Emilia Aves, sounds nice. Or is it Aves Emilia? Aves Emily. A-vez-Ehm-ih-le. Chirp, chirp. Whistle. MMM. I can fly. Mama, I’m gonna fly. Fluh-I.

  Before long, Emily takes some of her precious collection and excitingly sets about ripping the wings off the bird carcasses. Sometimes she uses shards of broken mirrors to help out, cutting her hands without noticing. She peels off her clothing. Need something sticky. Shit, use shit. She slathers it on her back, and painfully poses the wings along her spine. Picture it, a beautiful girl of twenty-eight, naked, with tight perfect pigtails. Her back is covered with globs of old shit with ripped off decaying pigeon wings perched in them, some of which are sliding off. This beautiful girl in a rundown, broken building. It’s a sight. Picture it, her ass, her back, her perfect tits, perfect nose and a wildly excited gleam in her eyes. That bright smile. Picture it now. Emily runs up to the roof, four stories high, barely needing to catch her breath. The sun is high like her, and the wind is working right. She gets a running start, closes her eyes, smiles, and leaps off...

  Let’s pretend she really did it.

  La Bruja Y El Vendedor or How Eduardo Found His Heart1

  1

  Author’s note: This story is written, for lack of a better phrase, in Spanglish. I grew up in a bilingual household, and stories were never a 100% English, or 100% Spanish. To honor this and to honor where my mother comes from, Chile, I wrote this story. I hope you enjoy it.

  Once upon a time there was a traveling salesman who was named Eduardo. Eduardo sold hats, -los sombreros más lindos del mundo. Sombreros para los padres, niños, rancheros y sacerdotes.2- He would chant while bouncing into the village. The children would come and stare at Eduardo, for he carried every hat he sold on his back and on his head. It was quite a sight!

  All the women would come when he arrived at the village as well, for Eduardo was very handsome. Even though he carried all those hats, caminó como un príncipe. He had a voice like the easy roll of thunder y una sonrisa that shone like light breaking through a cloud. He traveled from village to village in the valley of a mountain range and wherever he went, the young women would smile and flirt with him. They all wanted to marry him and the young womens’ mothers wanted him to marry their daughters. -¿Y cuando te vas a casar Eduardo? -una Señora would ask, indicating her daughter with the tilt of her chin or a batted eyelash.

  Eduardo would just laugh that booming laugh of his, cuando me enamore -would be his answer, and he would soon move on to another village. It came to pass that while Eduardo found many women beautiful and charming, he did not feel he could love them. Even Serena Del Río, the most beautiful woman in all the villages, with her dark hair and skin as clear as still water, could not move his heart to love.

  On a hot summer day, after turning down Serena’s hand, Eduardo sat down at the foot of a mountain with all his hats and seriously considered this. He found many women pretty and he often felt something for them, but he had never fallen in love, or at least he could never tell if he had. While Eduardo was thinking, one of the respected men of the village, Don Juan Carlos, came to see him in his pensive state. -¿Qué te pasa amiguito? - asked Don Juan Carlos, -¿Por qué tienes esa cara?

  Don Juan Carlos was a respected ranchero with a lovely wife and many good children, and people often looked to him for his wisdom. Eduardo told him everything, about how he did not feel his heart stir for any woman beyond simple physical attraction. Eduardo confided in Don Juan Carlos that he feared he would never fall in love and have a beautiful wife to come home to, or a woman to bear his children and fix his meals.

  After hearing this, Don Juan Carlos stroked his chin as he thought. Then caramba! Se la prendió el bombillo, Don Juan Carlos seemed to have solved the problem. He looked at Eduardo with a face as serious as stone - ¡Amiguito, creo que no es un problema tuyo solamente! La bruja que vive arriba de la Montaña te ha hechado una maldicion y te robo tu corazón.!

  This is how Eduardo heard of the witch who steals the hearts of young men, and he resolved then to find and confront her. Con todos sus sombreros, Eduardo made his way up the mountain. This was no quick and easy trek, even for one as young and strong as Eduardo. The air was thinner and cold. The terrain was hard to climb, for the soil was shallow in many places and his boots could not grasp it. At night he would build himself a little shelter from his many sombreros and brew mate tea to ease the pain all over his body. But Eduardo was determined to get his heart back from the witch and one day fall in love.

  He reached the witch’s cottage early one morning. It was built on the slope of the mountain and he could see a small garden y un corral con cabras y alpacas. Eduardo put his large stack of hats aside, straightened his back and knocked on the door. The woman who answered Eduardo no era la mas linda del mundo, no linda como Serena Del Río, pero de una manera muy peculiar era linda. Eduardo was shocked, for he thought that a witch who lived on a mountain would be an old crone, not this young woman with a delicate face, high cheeks y ojos claros.

  Eduardo blinked himself back to reality and looked the witch straight in her bright eyes. In his booming voice he said -¡Bruja! ¡Tu te robaste mi corazón! ¡Da me lo que me robaste!

  La bruja looked at Eduardo quizzically. Who was this stranger who had come to her solitary home to accuse her of stealing his heart? She looked at the handsome salesman, whom she realized would have been even more attractive had he not just spent several days struggling up the mountain, and replied -Yo no le robe su corazón pero lo tomaré si me lo da.

  With that, the witch went around her little farm to do her daily work. She milked the goats, fed and brushed the alpacas, dug for potatoes and planted more. Eduardo watched, confused. What did she mean she would take his heart if he gave it? He settled in to stay for a while, hoping that perhaps she would accidentally drop his heart somewhere and he could take it back. He built a little shelter out of his sombreros and observed her as she worked around her casita.

  That evening, she left her casita and approached Eduardo’s shelter con un vaso de té. She had seen him out there in the cold and taken pity on him. In the moonlight, she looked even more beau
tiful. Her skin seemed to glow and her dark hair faded into the starry sky like it was made con el cielo. Eduardo felt something stir in his chest.

  Pero eso no es amor.

  It was attraction. Eduardo had felt that for many beautiful women, but he knew it was a fleeting feeling. A feeling easily replaced con una nueva cara linda. This witch looked at Eduardo’s little setup and invited him to her fire for tea y sopa. At this Eduardo felt something else stir in his chest.

  Pero eso no es amor.

  That was kindness. Kindness was something he had given and received on his many travels around the valley. He was thankful every time. Part of him still feared this was a witch’s trap, but he was so cold, hungry and tired that he could not say no. They ate in silence. The small meal filled his belly and he slept, warm and silent, in front of her fire. Esa noche Eduardo soño de su corazón y de una mujer con ojos claros.

  The next morning, the witch woke up with the dawn and worked around her casita. Eduardo watched her move, admiring her grace and extreme efficiency. He noted how clever she was, having rigged up a device that collected eggs and another that snared small creatures. He again felt that little stirring in his chest.

  Pero eso no es amor.

  That was admiration. Eduardo knew that feeling, of seeing something accomplished or done that you hoped to aspire to. Watching how the witch moved in the difficult climate with such ease, coming up with ways to survive, Eduardo was impressed.