Curtain Cape

by David Bobis

loudest, most catastrophic shatter I’d ever heard.

  I winced, stood up and followed Victor inside.

  When we were children, we used to break into homes and turn things around. We’d turn sofas around, we’d swap picture frame photos around, we’d empty out milk cartons, we’d unplug a few electrical appliances. We thought it’d be fun to confuse people. This time, however, Victor didn’t look like someone who merely wanted to enjoy a casual break in. I knew that underneath those red fire sunglasses of his was an anger of some sort, an anger that was growing and soon the foxes would join us all over again. He kicked tables over and threw photo frames across the wall. He used the pole to stab holes into the sofa he broke furniture he toppled the fridge over; his fists and his feet and his rage shattered the entire world. Amidst all of that hatred came a small, girlish whimper that suddenly made us both stop what we were doing and look towards the same direction. There was a little girl there, wearing a little pink sweater and little pink pyjama pants.

  She was crying.

  “Get back up there!” Victor screamed to her.

  I glanced between the both of them. “Let’s go, Victor. Her parents will come her parents will come.” I tried to grab him but he pushed me away.

  “Get back up there!” Victor screamed, taking two steps closer to her and raising his pole. The little girl wouldn’t move, couldn’t move. She was crying screaming shaking.

  I glanced outside the broken sliding door behind us and imagined poison. “I’m leaving, Victor,” I said loudly.

  “You’re not leaving.” He threw the pole towards the girl’s direction and it hit something. The little girl screamed louder but still couldn’t move. Victor took two more steps forward.

  “I’m leaving, Victor you can have your fun but I’m leaving the parents are coming I’m leaving.” I casually walked outside the house, but contrary to my predictions, Victor didn’t follow me. I knew it was a gamble, but I didn’t turn around or yell for him. I kept walking, I walked past the backyard, I hopped over the fence and walked along the street. There was a lot of silence, there was a lot of walking, walking, walking. Soon enough I heard his footsteps behind me.

  The weather relaxed and uncluttered itself. “You always leave early, you bastard. She wouldn’t have called the cops we could’ve stayed there.”

  It was another sunset by the time we found the sports field.

  “I miss the road,” I told Victor, tired. “I miss the endless. We better find a car soon.”

  We lay down on the centre of the field. The grass felt like a sponge. I knew there were little insects and ants crawling over me but I let them do whatever they wanted to do. I could hear Victor breathing loudly and muttering loudly. I adjusted my sunglasses. Lights turned on in houses far away, an airplane called for attention, this whole country turned pastel and watercolour, clouds died clouds were born. I heard small, hasty footsteps but waited for a while before looking up to see what was rushing towards us. I knew it – the foxes were back. They were big foxes with big heads. They were old foxes, too, old foxes with thick fur and wild, endearing eyes. They all looked happy to see us there, tired but not yet bewildered. Victor stood up and embraced one. The fox was twice as big as he was. It smiled, leant in towards him and licked him, making him laugh.

  I lit a fire, a big fire in the centre of the field. We ran around it, yelling flying laughing; Victor and I rode a fox each. When we were tired we sat around, exchanging stories about what we called our lives.

  “Do you know any good jokes, come on tell me some more jokes,” one of the foxes, the one with the short attention span, kept on saying.

  I watched the large animals, smiling. I’ve always admired the way a fox could sit on its stomach and bend its legs. The orange light of the fire flickered over their delicate fur. The foxes almost had human faces but we never told them that. The only words I enjoyed telling them was that I truly loved them all.

  Unable to keep my eyes open anymore, I lay down. I fell asleep with an awful ball of something inside of me. I was worried, but who wasn’t? I was afraid, I was sad, but who wasn’t? I was angry, but who wasn’t? I didn’t know if I wanted to be young again, I didn’t know if Victor and I should’ve been wearing our crowns. I didn’t want to wake up I didn’t want to sleep I didn’t want to collide I didn’t want to find the never.

  As usual, when we had woken up and the sun was out and about and glaring, all the foxes had gone except for one. It was dead. Instead of lying on its stomach it was lying on its side, its mouth slightly open. They’d always leave a dead one behind. I’d always hoped it’d start breathing again, so in the day time we could look at it properly and ride it and show it off to our mother.

  Victor rubbed his eyes, stood up, stood next to it and looked at it. He just looked at it and said nothing. He looked tall from my view, tall and thin. His cape looked too short for him and the bullying glare of the sunlight overshone his wrinkled paper crown. He cried the first time he saw a dead fox. I had to hold his hand for an entire day.

  We found our person in a parking lot. He was this guy about twice our age and he looked like someone who had just gotten a haircut. Victor pointed at him with our gun; I took his keys from his pocket and hopped into the car. I quickly threw our plastic bag of food onto the back seat and started the car. I looked at Victor through the windscreen and said nothing. Victor stood there, howling, raising the gun, smiling, happy, accomplished. He was by himself now; the man had run away. I imagined running the car into Victor, into a wall and crushing his legs and feeling guilty after watching his face slam into the bonnet, after watching his nose break after watching his bloody eyes look back at me with confusion with horror, with blame. I scrolled my window down and looked out and slapped the door. “Come on, Victor, let’s go we’re already in trouble.”

  As predicted, Victor stopped his howling, looked at me, opened the passenger door and hopped inside. He swore at me. “You’re never fun.” We drove out of the parking lot. We headed back to the road.

 

  MORE WORKS BY DAVID BOBIS

  Child (Special Edition)

  What would you do if your wishes instantly came true? Mesmerising, humorous and addictively raw, Child wisps its readers through a society of quick-fixes, misguided desires and the excessive need for things that in the end, may not actually be important. A parable narrated by a voice unlike any other, Child is as remarkable as it is entertaining – it is a story that simply cannot be missed.

  This special eBook edition of Child comes with a never-before-published short story, I Keep Getting F****** Robbed, with cover artwork created by the author himself.

  Available for purchase from your favourite e-bookstore. Or access it from www.davidbobis.com.

  Generation End (contributor)

  We were the point, the end dream, the favourite money, the secret vices, the untitled democracy. We had a purpose, and we could only read it when we’d become blind. We were the victims of freedom. We were history on repeat. We were Generation End.

  Follow the life of self-destructive writer Dean Blake and his misguided friends as they tangle themselves in a world of sex, drugs, love and everything else that comes in between.

  Read the blog at www.generationend.com.