Entwined

by La Plante, Lynda

  She gave him one hell of a punch. “They’d turn in their graves if they heard you. Go on, get another bottle, go on, get drunk…you weak bum!”

  He stormed off in a rage, wanting to hit her back, but wanting even more to hit himself. Alone, she had stared at the bedraggled unkempt cats, their filthy cages, their ribs showing through their matted coats. She grabbed a bucket of water and headed back to the trailer.

  The water hit him in the face, then the bucket. “You bastard! You can get drunk, you can let yourself go, but what you’ve done out there is a crime…you’re starving them to death.”

  “I have no money to feed them…I got no money, and nobody wants to buy them!!”

  She rolled up her sleeve, shoved her tattooed arm under his nose. “See this? I’ve been caged, I’ve been starved, I’ve been beaten, I’ve been to hell and back and I am still here. I am still fighting, and I have enough for the two of us, you got ten minutes before I take a gun and shoot what’s left of those poor creatures, and then I’ll leave a bullet for you. You won’t let them suffer another hour, you hear me?…You hear me?”

  She had slammed the door of the trailer so hard it came off its hinges. She went around to the cages. Never having been inside a cat’s cage, she simply unbolted the door, stepped in, and took out the empty trays. She then rebolted the door and went back to the trailer. He was sitting, head bowed.

  “What do they eat?”

  “Meat, horsemeat…maybe I should put myself in there, let them have a go at me!”

  Ruda stormed out and went into town. She came back an hour later, carrying a stack of boxes. She found Grimaldi mucking out the cages, Two Seats using a hose to wash them down. She cleaned out the bowls, and carried the fresh meat to the cages. Two Seats gave a toothless smile to Ruda, and he touched her hand with his gnarled, crusted fingers.

  “I don’t know what you said, but I thank God for you, young woman.”

  They fed the cats and went back into town for fresh bales of hay and sawdust. Neither of them brought up the question of marriage. Luis stopped drinking and began to exercise the animals. Two Seats collected the old plinths from the storage huts and dusted and washed them down. The heat was oppressive and the small trailer airless; they continued to sleep separately.

  Four months after Ruda’s arrival, Grimaldi took off for town. Old Two Seats sat on the steps glumly muttering that he doubted if the boss would come back that night, he’d be getting plastered at the local whorehouse.

  Ruda flopped down on her bunk. “Shit! Shit!” She had traded one bum in for another. She was wondering if she had made the wrong decision when she heard Grimaldi calling her. Luis had returned, stone sober, and he put on the kitchen table an envelope and a small red box. It was a marriage license and a wedding ring. He said nothing, just pointed to the table.

  He hovered outside the trailer, watching her from the window as she opened the envelope. He saw Ruda smile—she who so rarely smiled—and then slowly open the ring box. She snapped it shut, was about to walk out to him when she heard Grimaldi ask the old man if he had a suit.

  “A suit!…You must be jokin’, it’s at the pawnbroker’s.”

  “Well, get it out, and by Wednesday, ‘cos you’re gonna need it.”

  “What fer?”

  “Wedding, you old bugger.”

  “What?”

  “We need a witness, me and Ruda are getting married next Wednesday.”

  There was a loud guffaw, and then a lot of back slapping. She came to the door, and Grimaldi held out his big hand. She took it, gripped it tightly as the old man wrinkled his nose and then threw his hat up in the air with a yell.

  “By Christ—that’s the best news I’ve heard in years!”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  The wedding had been a small affair with just a few people from the winter quarters. They had lunch at a local restaurant, and then returned to feed the cats. Ruda had been very quiet, she had smiled for a photograph, but as the day drew to a close she continued to find things to do, anything to delay the consummation of the marriage, even though she was unsure if that was what Luis wanted. She had arranged a platonic partnership with Kellerman, but after six months he had demanded to have sex with her. Kellerman revolted her, but nevertheless the marriage had been consummated, insofar as it ever could be. Kellerman liked kinky sex, her physical problems had never bothered him. He liked her to give him blow jobs, liked the sight of her on her knees in front of him.

  Luis had brought flowers and champagne, and she noticed that the bed linen had been removed from the couch she had always slept on. Luis was in high spirits. Having made the decision to marry Ruda, he was now more than willing to take her into his bed. He opened the champagne, and then produced a box, which he gave her with a flourish. She opened it, and the delicate nightdress, its lace and frills carefully snuggled in white tissue paper, made her bite her lips. She didn’t even want to take it out of the box.

  ‘‘Don’t you like it? It’s silk, the lace is from France, is it the right size? Take it out, go on take it out…”

  Slowly she had held the delicate nightgown against herself.

  “You like it?”

  She whispered that it was beautiful, and he asked her to put it on. She hesitated, and seemed so distressed he wanted to put his arms around her, but she stepped away from him. “Nobody ever gave me anything…”

  “So let me see you in it?” he said gently.

  “You want this to be a proper marriage?”

  Luis was confused, he said that he thought that was what she wanted, and she had turned away from him, hunching up her shoulders.

  “I guess that is what I want, Ruda. I mean, maybe I’ve not been the best person to have around, not said the right things, but you wanted to marry me, didn’t you?”

  She nodded, but when he tried once again to hold her she fended him off. “I want to tell you something, I sort of thought you knew…”

  Again he tried to make her turn to him, look at him, but she pulled further away. “Don’t, please don’t touch me.”

  She lifted the soft silk to her face, almost caressing the gown. “Luis, I can’t have normal sex. Something was done to me when I was a child. I can make it all right for you, but that is all.”

  Luis had a sudden vision of her as having had her sex changed: Was she really a man? He couldn’t hide his revulsion, his confusion. “Jesus Christ, what a fucking time to tell me! Are you kidding?”

  She turned to him, unbuttoning her shirt, her face rigid. “Do you think this is something to kid about? Do you?”

  She began to undress in front of him, and he now backed away from her. She undid her blouse, took off her bra, and then started to unzip her trousers. “Look, Ruda, don’t…don’t, I can’t deal with it, please, Ruda!”

  She continued to undress, easing her pants down. She had on a pair of thick cotton underpants. Grimaldi was convinced she was going to show him a penis. Instead, he saw the terrible scars on her belly. He stared in disbelief.

  Ruda then held up her wrist, showing him the tattoo. He looked from the row of numbers to her body; he couldn’t look into her eyes.

  “I’m surprised you’ve never commented on it before.”

  He swallowed, and gave a half smile, but his hands were shaking. “I guess I’m just not very observant…”

  She stood in front of him with such helplessness, such shame, her head bowed. He picked up the gown, and slipped it over her head. Then he stepped back.

  “Now you look like a bride.”

  The small space between them was like a chasm he did not know how to cross. Seeing her standing there in the white negligee made him want to weep.

  Her voice was husky, her head low. “I’ll make up the bed on the sofa…You don’t have to be with me, I understand.”

  He gathered her in his arms and held her tightly. His voice was thick with emotion. “What kind of a man do you think I am? We said to each other f
or better or worse, didn’t we? Well, I don’t think you got such a great bargain, so maybe you’re damaged too, that’s okay, we’ll make out.”

  Ruda had clung to him, her whole body shaking. When he cupped her face in his big hands, two tears rolled down her cheeks. He told her then that he loved her. Maybe it was those two tears, he had never seen her cry before, and he had carried her into the small bedroom and gently laid her down. He undressed, and then he got in beside her, and he reached out and cradled her in his arms.

  “Don’t ask me about it, Luis. You don’t ever want to know what was done to me, because it might open up a darkness inside me that I could not control. It happened, and now it’s over…”

  He had never felt as protective of any living soul. He kissed her head as she rested against his chest. “I will always take care of you, Ruda, nobody will ever hurt you again. You are my wife, this will be our secret, no one will ever know.”

  He made her feel secure, a feeling she had never experienced before. She felt warmed by this big soft man, and gently she stroked his chest, and then rolled over to lie on top of him. She smiled and then whispered that she could make him happy, there were ways, she would teach him how to make love to her, he would like it, he would be satisfied.

  The old hand and the few workers left at the winter quarters gave knowing winks and nudges as a very happy Grimaldi greeted them the morning after the wedding. He was a man who appeared infatuated. Maybe it was indeed love.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  The big album dropped to the floor, and Grimaldi woke with a start. For a moment he was disoriented, couldn’t even remember coming into Ruda’s bedroom. “You’re gettin’ old, you old bugger, noddin’ off…” He yawned, and leaning back he became aware of Ruda’s scent on the pillow. He nuzzled it, and then slipped his arm around it, sighing. “Oh Ruda…where did I go wrong, huh?” He knew she would give him hell if she found him in her room, but he chuckled and eased himself into a more comfortable position. His last thought before he fell into a deep sleep was of Ruda. “What a bloody wife…”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Ruda had intended to apply for a divorce from Kellerman as soon as she had the opportunity. That she had married Grimaldi bigamously never worried her; with Kellerman in prison, he would not find out; by the time he was out she would have secured a divorce. She wished she had done it in Vegas, as she had told Grimaldi she had, but she had been in such a hurry to leave that divorce had been the last thing on her mind.

  Grimaldi began to earn money by training other acts, traveling around the United States. He returned with gifts, and cash to buy-new cats for his show. Ruda worked at the winter quarters. She learned how to groom and feed the animals, and they thrived under her care and attention. They began to breed the tigers and their first summer together as man and wife saw four new cubs born. Ruda was a doting mother, and was heartbroken when Grimaldi sold the cubs. He said they had to because they needed the money, but also he said the cubs were not a good color. He taught Ruda how to spot the best of the litters, how to test their strength. Health was always the main priority. Ruda was a willing pupil. She worked tirelessly, nothing was too much trouble. Everyone said that Grimaldi had found the perfect wife, that Ruda was getting him back on his feet.

  Ruda continued with her stargazing sideline. The letters arrived every week, and she would spend hours every evening typing replies, making predictions. She typed very slowly with two fingers, deep in concentration. She had a dictionary beside her, always thumbing the well-worn pages. Grimaldi used to tease her, and at times was stunned when she asked him to spell the simplest of words. He believed at first it was because she was German and typing in English, but then watching her effort he understood she was almost illiterate. She had caught him observing her and had given him the finger. “I never went to school, dickhead, so no jokes!”

  He leaned over her chair and began to read a letter. She tried to cover it with her hand, but he snatched it out of the roller.

  ” ‘Dear Worried from Nebraska’—my God, what in God’s name is somebody writing to you from Nebraska for?”

  “I’ve done her charts, now give it back.”

  Grimaldi had waved the letter jokingly. “Her charts? What in Christ’s name do you know about all this junk?”

  He roared with laughter as he read Ruda’s predictions. She folded her arms. “You laugh, but they pay ten bucks a letter, and they pay for the cats’ feed. You got any better ideas how to make dough that fast?”

  Grimaldi slapped the paper down and patted her head. “Keep working, keep working!”

  She had carefully rolled the paper back into the typewriter, and he was about to walk out when he paused at the doorway. “You never did tell me how you did that scarf trick, you know, with that old magician?”

  She began typing again, and without looking at him said that it wasn’t a trick. He told her to stop pulling his leg, but she turned to face him. “That wasn’t a trick. I’m telepathic.”

  “Oh yeah, prove it!”

  She shrugged and said she didn’t feel like it, but he insisted, teasing her, asking her to prove it. She sighed, then pushed the typewriter aside. She picked up the stack of letters she had received that week. She handed them to him, thumbing through them like a pack of cards. She then looked away and told him to turn up each envelope and she would tell him the color of the stamps. She repeated, in rapid succession: red, blue, red, red, green, blue, red, red, red, red…she then swiveled around in her chair and cocked her head.

  “You knew…you cheated!”

  She held out her hand and shrugged. “Yeah…Now can I get on with my work?”

  “Don’t let me hold you up, carry on!” But he remained leaning at the doorway watching her, until she looked up at him and made a funny face.

  “Is it just the colors then? I mean, can you do anything else?”

  She laughed. “If I were to say yes, what you gonna do? Set up a booth and make me wear a turban? Just get out, go on, don’t you have anything to do?”

  Grimaldi laughed. As he stepped down he called out: “I’ll get myself a cloak like that old boy you worked with. Old Two Seats can bend over and give us a good fart, I’ll set light to it!”

  She could hear him laughing as he passed by the window, and then he stuck his head against the glass. “Did I tell you today how much I love you? Eh? Cross my palm with silver…and I’ll tell you how much!”

  She gave him the finger, shouted for him to “Sit on it!” and he gave his marvelous, deep-bellied laugh, and at last he went about his business.

  Ruda began her laborious typing once more, but after a moment, she sat back and slid out from beneath the typewriter a slip of paper. It was another advertisement, in another place: Florida. She stared at the two lines, remembering how Tommy Kellerman had told her she was crazy. First she crumpled the paper, then changing her mind she straightened out the creases, and read and reread the two lines, “Red, blue, green, Ruda…” and the message Tommy had hated so much.

  Ruda crossed to her dressing table, opened a drawer, and took out the small black tin box now fitted with a new lock. She went to get the key, hidden in the bookcase, and unlocked it. She looked at the stack of newspaper clippings. The last one she had inserted was in Vegas. This had been the longest pause between ads, perhaps because, for the first time in her life, she felt a sense of security.

  Ruda locked away her secrets again, carefully hiding the tiny key, and returned to her typewriter. She sat staring at the white sheet of paper in the roller. She couldn’t concentrate. She went into the bedroom and as she passed the door she slipped the bolt across, drew the curtains, until the small room was in semidarkness.

  She sat in front of the dressing table and slowly drew toward herself the three-sided, freestanding mirror. She got closer and closer until she could see her breath form a tiny gray circle on the glass. She turned her head first to the left, then her right. Finally she stared directly ahead. S
he breathed deeply through her nose, until she felt the strange, dizzy sensation sweep over her. Her shoulders lifted as her breathing deepened…first came the red, as if a beam of red light were focused on her face. She breathed deeper, concentrated harder, until the red turned into a deep green, then a blue. The colors began flashing and repeating: red, blue, red, red, green…They never fused, each was a clear block of single color. Her body began to shake, her hands gripped the edge of the table. The bottles of cologne vibrated, and the entire dressing table began to sway; she held on tightly for as long as she could, before she regulated her breathing again, bringing herself slowly out of the trance.

  Her body felt limp, exhausted. Then she tilted her face forward to kiss the cold glass. Slowly she sat back, and traced with her fingers the faint impression of her lips lingering on the glass. She was consumed by an overpowering longing; the desire to feel warm lips return her kiss was like a pain inside her, a pain that, like her scars, would never heal. She could never give up, never, because on three occasions she was sure she had felt a contact.

  She lay down on the bed and closed her eyes, waiting for sleep. But a nagging pain at the base of her spine made her feel uncomfortable. She turned on her side, but the pain grew worse, it began to feel as though something were being ripped out of her belly. Ruda was frightened as the pain intensified…she gripped her stomach, it felt swollen, and she began to rub her hands over it. As quickly as the pain had begun, it subsided. Ruda lay back.

  Then the pain started again. Twisting in agony, she called out for Grimaldi. The rush of pain centered in her belly and as she tried to sit up, she screamed with all the power in her lungs.

  Grimaldi was working in the barn. He paused and listened. “Did you hear that? Eh, you toothless old bastard, was that one of the cats?”

  Two Seats shrugged. Grimaldi stood for a moment longer, listening intently. Hearing nothing more he resumed his work, but after a while he tossed down the pitchfork and walked back to the trailer. He peered in through the window, then crossed to the door, dragging his feet on the grid to wipe off the mud. He was just about to enter when he heard the bolt on the door drawn back.