Fish-Hair Woman

by Merlinda Bobis

  You nuts? But that was before the photo arrived.

  ‘Your uncle is just being chatty,’ Aunt Therese said, eyes red and hands clenched, but always bent on saving the day. ‘Stay the night, Luke.’ It sounded like a plea. A long time ago she loved him like her own, she never had her own. ‘The upstairs room’s ready, darling, your old room — but you can use the bathroom downstairs, of course — I mean — ’

  ‘I’m okay, I’m nineteen.’

  Once upon a time Tony and Patti and little Luke lived happily with Josh and Therese. Once upon a time Patti had a bath upstairs.

  He picks up each page, here and there annotated in his red pen. Outside, the smog claims the moon and the gardenias bloom. Again Adora walks in. Again he is all over her, and this time she matches him with deep kisses that go nowhere. He aches. Again she takes his hand and leads him out. Save me, he wants to say, save me. But all she does is take him to that room, that voice.

  ‘Tell me about your father … ’

  It is not a room for light.

  ‘Tell me where he is … ’

  It is not a room for finished sentences.

  ‘Tell me about his heart … ’

  It is a room with a couch sailing on a moonless sea. It sails into her unfinished thoughts where his throat expands, fills with water … first a low moan then it climbs into a full howl. It does not taper off. Maybe it will even find the moon.

  Chapter 37

  In the servants’ quarters, there are whispers about a crown of flowers. Korona para sa patay …

  Crown for the dead …

  Crown for the master …

  Crown for a warning …

  Crown for payback …

  But the whispers are too afraid to cross the threshold of the house.

  How to tell the master they came with a ribbon bearing his name. Red roses. How to tell this is the fourth delivery, but always with sender unknown. The first came that night the white boy arrived, ay, what noise he makes, like a dog, like someone died, ay, what’s become of this house! The maids clutch at their hearts and dispose of the ‘latest delivery’. Found in the garden at about six in the evening. Did the guards see any suspicious-looking strangers in the area? Ay, we’ll get sacked if the master finds out there has been a break in. Should we tell him? Ay, we’ll get sacked if he finds out we did not tell him about the first time. But he was used to this long ago, when there was more reason to send him funereal flowers: a death warning. But he’s reformed now, is he not? But debts are debts. Hush. Seal your lips, keep your jobs.

  All lips are sealed and the master has no clue.

  For the whole day Doc Kiko is exceptionally solicitous over his guest’s affliction, promising to ‘scare away that dog in your throat’ with sightseeing, eating out, shopping for a new wardrobe and even a pair of John Lennon glasses. Adora chooses the replacement, insisting that his own pair is ugly. In all the excursions, the doctor has a journalist in tow to document his hospitality for his Australian guest and, of course, his dreams for his country now that he’s back — make sure you print that. His driver and bodyguard, Kiyat-kiyat and Kiri-kiri, the ‘gestural thugs’, are in constant attendance. Wink-wink and Shake-shake (of the head) negotiate with these body signals. They ‘take care’ of heckling crowds or cars that get in the way, and journalists or photographers who are not ‘with the boss’. These bodyguards never go anywhere without their guns.

  ‘This is a country where every establishment of any worth, business or personal, needs an armed guard, my Luke. Don’t you see, they all have it, from the largest shopping chain Shoemart down to Pizza Hut. It’s no big deal. Ah-ah, you’re too fainthearted.’

  ‘About your daughter, sir — ’

  ‘What “sir”? You’re warmly received in my house and you still think of me as a stranger? Ah, hijo, my dear boy — ’

  ‘I’m sorry — ’

  ‘I’m Doc Kiko to you — as I was to your father.’

  ‘Yes, about my father’ — but his host leaves no room for querying in this whirl of indulgence.

  ‘Let’s say we go for another drink, somewhere special this time?’

  The day ends at an exclusive club. In this ‘respectable establishment’, the women are mostly in their teens. All tastefully presented; only a bit of cleavage or leg here and there, nothing particularly showy or tacky. Everyone is extremely professional.

  It is Luke’s chance to peel himself from his host’s company, now that the older man’s half-drunk and away from his journalists and bodyguards. He’s intent on a private joke with an older woman in a suit and diamonds. She chuckles, patting the regular guest on his back. Luke excuses himself to go the bathroom, the Doc waves him away. Amidst her chuckle, the suited woman nods at a girl lounging in the bar at the end of the room. She is beside Luke in no time, all smiles, and she leads the way. Stilettos, silk fuchsia, musk. And a slight brush of her hand on his arm, as she asks, ‘Where are you from?’

  He thinks of another girl leading him to a bedroom, another scent. He clears his throat. ‘Australia — just point me to it, I’ll find my way — the bathroom, I mean.’

  She giggles. ‘Bathroom? You want to shower now?’

  ‘Oh no, I mean the toilet — ’ he says, growing red.

  The girl claps a hand on her mouth, smothering another giggle. She looks more like a child now, in dress-ups. But quickly poise returns, as she rubs the client’s arm and whispers, ‘Maybe later?’

  ‘Uh, maybe,’ he says, but he’s imagining gardenias and silent kisses, and perhaps tonight, like last night …

  The girl gets it, he’s not even looking at her. She points to the end of the corridor. ‘Around the corner — ’

  ‘And — is there a phone around here?’

  ‘Also around the corner, sir.’

  He checks for Matt’s calling card in his pocket.

  ‘The doctor said he’s coming back next week.’

  Silence on the other line, then, ‘That’s good. I think you should stay.’

  ‘I think they’re mad. Especially the daughter.’

  ‘Estrella?’

  ‘No, Stella.’

  ‘Oh, Stella? Of course, Stella.’

  Luke is wary. Matt Baker’s interest yet reticence makes him nervous. ‘So, you know this family? Like you knew Tony? And can I trust them?’

  It takes a while before the man responds. ‘Stay, Luke. It’s very important that you stay. And be friendly. It will mean a lot — just wait for your father.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Yes, he will stay, despite the growing doubts, the bizarreness of each day. Ah, this pull in his gut to tough it out here. Because he too wants the vanishing man to reappear, even if he tries to deny this wayward hope.

  ‘Give me the number there — ’

  ‘I can’t seem to find any fucking phone in the house, no one wants me to find a phone — I think — ’

  ‘So where are you?’

  ‘I’m in some — ’

  ‘Mr McIntyre … sir … ’ A hand rests on his arm, he turns around guiltily.

  Silk fuschia and all smiles, and an order from Doc Kiko to bring him back, pronto!

  Chapter 38

  ‘You took a long time, hijo.’

  ‘Too much to drink, sorry.’

  ‘Uhmm … ’ the doctor nods, and pulls him down to his seat. ‘You like her?’

  The silk fuchsia has returned to the bar, with a business suit that just walked in. Luke catches a German accent.

  ‘You’re not interested?’ his host studies him, bushy brows converging.

  Luke’s head is still with the halted conversation. He will ring Matt again, the next time he gets a chance. The feel of his card in his pocket assures him.

  ‘Luke, hijo … ’

  ‘Uh, yes — ?’

  ‘Relax, my boy, let your hair down,’ the older man chuckles and grabs his arm. ‘Look around, really look.’ Then he runs his eyes around the room. Dim lights, discreet tables, nubile bodies. ‘I love them,
I love them all,’ the man sighs, leans towards him. ‘You know, this is where I go when I get sad.’

  What can he say to that?

  Doc Kiko smoothes the silk shirt that’s too young for him. ‘But I’m seldom sad.’ Then in an afterthought, ‘God loves me.’

  Ha-ha! And do you carry your little, good book in here too? Read a line or two to the women? Say grace before the act? But Luke bites his tongue; this is his host’s monologue. Indeed, be friendly.

  ‘I never take my journalists here, Luke. Bad press. Keep the seams invisible — but what about the Omniscient Eye? Ah-ah, no worries — I like that, ‘no worries,’ your father used to say. I understand that attitude, perfectamente! Why should I worry? Up there, He can take all our bad press anytime and forgive, as long as we’re contrite. And we’ll be as pure as driven snow — penance is the most wonderful gift. I’m really an old-fashioned man at heart. I believe in the restitution of dignity at whatever cost,’ Doc Kiko says, raising his whiskey towards his guest.

  ‘Onra — honour is something to die for. I’m going to get it back, Luke, I’ll get it back. From God and country, at whatever cost. You heard my credo. Desperar, despachar, dispensar, descansar — despair, dispatch, seek forgiveness, rest. When you despair over a hopeless situation, you must dispatch its cause swiftly at whatever cost. Then you apologise and beg for indulgence and rest your case. More Old Testament but it always works — I will successfully rest my case at whatever cost, I’ll get my honour back!’

  Luke wonders what dishonour happened before.

  ‘You see, I believe in the principle of payback. I always pay, so my soul is insured, I do believe this. I’m segurista, of course. It means cautious, someone who protects his assets, even in heaven.’ The doctor downs his drink then pours himself another shot. ‘Don’t laugh. I’m segurista for my soul, I’m segurista for my honour. Onra is important here as it is in heaven, so I like my little publicity machine. Can you blame me? I’m conscientious in my task. If, say by any bad luck, I hurt someone, I pay back, always. I make up for it. Debit and credit, that’s justice. To restore onra, I set any dishonour to rights in the eyes of man and God.’

  The boy marvels at how the man argues for his iniquities, whatever they were, with the assurance of a stockbroker.

  ‘You don’t have to say anything, you don’t even have to agree. All I beg of you is to listen to my man-to-man talk — first, don’t ever-ever take my daughter seriously. So, has she been talking to you?’

  ‘Well … ’ Somehow he feels he has to keep from the father the nightly interludes with the daughter. ‘Not really.’

  ‘She’s sick, Luke, but I love her with all my heart … she has a little pain habit, mi hija pobrecita, which became a painkiller habit. A nervous breakdown then hypochondria, thus “her medications”. I took her away to Hawai’i for a while, because there was too much pain in this country — for all of us. It broke my heart, it really did.’

  A pudgy finger is wagged under Luke’s nose as the man leans closer. ‘Whatever you hear, remember this, my family are good people, we are buena familia, but totally misunderstood by a society that’s given to crucifixions. Ahh, I’m so sad, so sad.’

  Luke thinks the doctor is about to cry. He is wringing his hands, his voice hoarse. The heavy lids are even more droopy yet unable to hide the misting of eyes. ‘Breaks my heart all the time … ’ Underneath the beard, the soft jowls tremble. ‘And then there’s Adora. Don’t you dare anything with her, Luke, I beg you. She’s most, most precious to me, my little angel.’

  Your little angel … A sick feeling sneaks in Luke’s gut. Do not arouse or stir up love … what is she to you? He backs off as the man leans even closer, the wagging finger prodding his cheek now.

  ‘I never want to have any harm come to her, get me?’

  Luke blocks the prodding finger —

  ‘Ah-ah, dispensa, hijo, sorry, my boy. But you see, it will grieve my heart greatly, especially if you cause it — don’t you ever-ever break my heart!’

  Heart, heart, heart! Sounds like Tony’s florid letters. This resonance in tone — he scans the face of the drunken supplicant. What’s it with you and my father?

  ‘Please promise me, my Luke.’

  ‘But, I wouldn’t hurt anyone, least of all Adora —’

  ‘Ahh, you understand, thank God … hijo, I’m not exactly a pleasant man once a promise is broken.’

  I don’t make any promises about my dick! Luke gulps his whiskey, then finally asks, ‘What about my father? Tell me, how did you meet?’

  ‘Ah-ah, I knew you’d interrogate me,’ then he laughs, slapping the boy on the shoulder. ‘Well, your father is a writer, escritor numero uno, you know that, and he gets around in his line of work — ahh, very stubborn, what a man. Que hombre! He got into a little trouble because of some research he was doing, I helped him out, he stayed in my house, you saw our photo … very, very stubborn … makes me sad remembering, you know, so sad … but I’ll make up for it. You’re here, and I’ll bloody make up for it — is that how you say it? Okay then, my Luke, I’ll bloody-bloody make up for it!’

  ‘He’ll be back next week, you said — so where is he?’

  But Dr Alvarado’s attention has returned to the lounging girls who all look bored. He studies each one with care. One can tell he has done this survey before, with regularity. He is given to ‘sadness’.

  Chapter 39

  It is mid-afternoon and Luke has a splitting headache. The smell of food on the bedside table makes his stomach turn. But he can do with the coffee, yes, coffee. He forces himself to sit up, to open his eyes — what — the room is strewn with papers, on the table, on the floor —

  Lemon grass. When the river was sweet with it, they came for me.

  Tony wept the first time he saw me take my hair to the river.

  Tell me, my love, what is a change of heart?

  On it went, the manuscript from his backpack papering the room — was I reading last night? He remembers the mad caper with the doctor. They got back at dawn with his host drunk and rambling about his daughters and how he’ll get his honour back, how he’ll make it up to Luke, then the maids rescued the master from his arms and Luke went to his own room, then — Did Adora visit him again in his sleep? Did she do this?

  The pages with his red annotations are set beside a thicker pile of papers, with a note:

  I’ll pick you up at five. It’s about your father. This will interest you — Stella

  He flicks through the pile, Iraya in bold on the the first page— another manuscript? His hangover makes the words swim:

  Three soldiers, two killed by their own guns, the third by asphyxiation. Under the berries ripening in haste: a crimson chest, a shattered groin, a snapped neck. And no moon, not even a firefly now to light their frozen stare …

  What’s this — it’s not from his manuscript, this is new — but it’s the same river, the same village — he keeps flicking, the bed floods.

  The grand fish graced it at dinner. The eyes were boiled white, sightless and petrified among the purplish sweet potato leaves that tinted the water …

  The river is here, its bodies slipping under the sheets, into his throat.

  The back of the head was blown off. What was left of it had begun to come apart. The woman tried to put it back together, picking the maggots that had gathered at the base of the skull …

  He runs to the adjoining bathroom, retching. When he is all empty, he crouches under the sink. He tells himself, he will not howl.

  Chapter 40

  ‘Salvation is stale, a hackneyed word. Like paper recycled into a fresh roll for the toilet. Our most urgent needs are undiscerning,’ she says.

  Behind the wheel of the Pajero, Stella wears a look of distress as if the traffic were causing her unbearable pain. She’s rambling one moment, silent the next. ‘Salvation is a subject close to my father’s heart. Born-again Christian, hah!’

  ‘I was locked in, I’m telling you,’ Luke insis
ts. ‘I was locked in — had you not come — ’ On his fifth night in this mad city, he feels like a zombie with his throbbing head and the fear in his gut making him queasy again. ‘So where are you taking me?’

  ‘What?’ It’s the world outside that she queries. ‘It’s raining … ’

  ‘And I think — I think my return ticket is gone,’ but he can’t add that even Matt Baker’s card is gone. ‘Someone, maybe someone — ’

  She begins to giggle.

  ‘Someone’s been through my stuff, and the manuscript — ’ Luke stares at the giggling woman, as if seeing her for the first time. ‘It was you, wasn’t it?’

  Her giggling takes on a note of hysteria. ‘In my house, Luke, things disappear. But they always surface, don’t worry.’

  ‘You came to my room, locked me in — oh, how blind, how stupid of me — you wrote it, didn’t you? Both of them — Beloved, Iraya — all from the same story, yours.’

  ‘Your father’s a novelist — or don’t you know?’

  ‘Love letters sent on instalment, right? First, Beloved to Sydney, sent to the father, but he wasn’t there, was he?’

  ‘So where is he?’

  ‘And now, Iraya, passed on to the son.’

  ‘What did my father tell you last night?’

  ‘Get to the son, to get to the father. Of course — you are my father’s lover! Estrella, Stella — why didn’t I get that?’ He remembers Matt’s confusion about ‘the daughter’s name’. He knows?

  She laughs, but her voice is harsh. ‘Why didn’t you get what?’

  ‘And not Alvarado but Estradero — what’s with the name trick, huh?’

  The laughing halts. She spits out the name: ‘Estradero!’

  ‘So?’

  ‘Estradero. My father’s history,’ she whispers, then launches an assault in another tongue.

  ‘What?’ Luke hears contempt, it escalates.

  She is caught in her own world now, her face ugly in its anger and anguish. Finally she turns to the boy. ‘So did he convert you to his own version of history?’