The Royal Family

by William T. Vollmann

  How much?

  I knew you’d do that to me. Let’s see . . . I’m a little bit fuzzy . . . Two twenty-five.

  Here.

  Thank you. You’re always so generous, Henry. Man, that tastes good. I just love that tequilla. That’ll put hair on your chest. Or maybe take it off.

  In my own case I can’t remember, so maybe I can see your chest and dope it out.

  Now you’re pushing the bucket, mister, said Loreena, but then to his astonishment she lifted up her T-shirt and flashed rosy-nippled, round and perfect breasts.

  Thank you, he said. That was good of you.

  I learned that trick from Beatrice.

  Surprise, surprise.

  You know, it’s such a hot night, Loreena said. I figured after I got off work I’d head for Jonell’s and then maybe the Cinnabar, and after that I’d love to go skinnydipping out at Ocean Beach.

  Tyler immediately became sad because he wanted to be with the Queen and now he would have to disappoint Loreena. —I’ll be back if I can, he said. I have to go make some money.

  Loreena’s ancient face grimaced back down into its habitual mask of weary disgust, and she said: Well, drive carefully, Henry, okay?

  And he wondered which would have been the more enlightened act—to go with Loreena and make her happy for an evening, loving her as the Queen loved everybody, or to go to the Queen and literally love her? —I don’t know where I’m going anymore, he muttered.

  | 255 |

  That was what he did now, night after night. Passing Strawberry up against the wall of the twenty-four-hour carwash with the hollows of her eyes filled with unreadable light and light drooling from her mouth like some customer’s sperm, passing Chocolate who was grinning and clenchfisted as she leaned up against the slimy wall-tiles of the Wonderbar late at night, trying not to shiver and making sure she stared down every car that came, Tyler wandered in through the back door to the red stools and red love seats, the kingdom of the Wonderbar where Domino, waiting to do business with someone whose identity would soon shock Tyler, said to him: Are you married?

  Only to my brother’s dead wife, he replied. How’s the Queen today?

  You know, said Domino, I don’t exactly have contempt for you; I don’t exactly think you’re a coward . . .

  Well, I’m glad to hear that, said Tyler sarcastically.

  Are you laughing at me?

  No, sweetheart. I would never laugh at you.

  Well, then why do you—oh, fuck it.

  Like all the brilliant women he knew who kept crying out that people made no sense and whose dream it was to flee everything and work at a Dairy Queen somewhere in Mississippi, Domino had visions which life would never live up to. Her brightest vision was that everyone would love her. Her life asserted that everyone hated her.

  So how’s the Queen? he said.

  You have a thing for her, huh? That’s rich. That’s fuckin’ rich. To think that ole Maj herself is finally getting a piece of dick! That sleazy old lowlife Maj—ha, ha! Hey, Henry, how does it feel to be dating a nigger?

  Feels okay to me.

  And your sister-in-law was a gook, wasn’t she? Smooth told me . . .

  Oh, so you’re dicking Smooth? he said, trying to get off the subject of Irene and the Queen.

  No, he’s a honky. I don’t do honkies, since I’m one myself.

  My, my, said Tyler. Just who enjoys the honor of being done by you?

  You wanna do me, Henry?

  You’re a mighty beautiful woman, Domino.

  Well, then I guess you have quite an opportunity, now, don’t you, she said with her trademark venomous bitterness. (When she was a little girl there was something wrong with the car. They went to the mechanic’s. He was greasy and smoking. There was a naked picture on the wall. It made her ashamed. She couldn’t have been more than three. Her mother was changing her brother’s diapers.)

  Of course I’d love to sleep with you, Domino, Tyler said. Buy you a drink?

  Rum and Coke, she purred instantly.

  Rum and Coke for Domino, please, he said to the barmaid.

  Okay, dear.

  Now, tell me this, said Domino. What are your intentions regarding the Queen? Because it affects all of us. Don’t think we haven’t all seen you sneaking around.

  What are my intentions? he muttered. I don’t know.

  Smooth said you’re a detective. He said you’re a lousy stinking cop.

  I bet he didn’t put it quite that way.

  Well, are you a cop?

  Nope.

  Are you a detective?

  Yes I am.

  Why, you sonofabitch. You even admit it. You’re spying on us all. You want to bring us all down. And you enjoy it, don’t you? You’re good at it.

  Oh, once you get used to the databases, you just kind of whip in and out, he muttered.

  And you’re not ashamed?

  I’m not out to hurt you, he said. I promise.

  What are you about?

  Just chilling out with your Queen, he said.

  You want to get her? You want to destroy her?

  No.

  But you like her?

  Sure.

  You love her? That stinking old Maj!

  I don’t know her that well, he said.

  And how do you feel about the rest of us?

  I think you’re all great. But you’re the best, of course, Domino.

  Oh, don’t fucking patronize me. You men are all the same. All you want is to use us. You don’t give a damn, really, do you? You don’t give a fucking damn.

  Here’s your rum and Coke, dear, said Loreena.

  Domino uplifted it without thanks and thrust her long grey tongue between the ice cubes.

  And for you, Henry? said the barmaid like the dreamy Queen speaking through closed eyes, lips parted as if to kiss some ghost which he could not see. Your usual?

  Yeah, why not, he said.

  Look, said Domino. I’m reminding you of my interest in all this. I’m reminding you to cut me in. You never would have met the Queen without me.

  Honk four times, he said agreeably.

  Listen, she said. Listen. I’m trying to tell you that I . . .

  I am listening, Domino.

  Oh, go to hell.

  I go there regularly.

  You think you got the Queen pinned down now, don’t you, fucker? You think she’s yours? Well, you’re never going to own her. I can see you’re one of those types who just thinks he can own a woman. Well, women have got it in for men like that.

  I don’t need to own her, Domino. Why buy when you can rent?

  Yeah, how many other thousand guys you think she’s already fucked? the blonde snarled.

  Dan Smooth, who’d just now strutted in, raised his forefinger, and Tyler thought: Okay, kiddies, here we go. Blessed art the peacemakers.

  You remember the proverb of the Sadducees, Domino?

  Fuck, no, pervert, and I don’t care, either.

  Well, Smooth explained, not a bit perturbed by this less than eager pupil, the Sadducees asked Jesus about a man who’d married his dead brother’s wife according to the Law of Moses—you know, he had to take care of his brother’s gal—well, then he died, and his brother married her, and he died, and so on and so on, until all seven brothers had had her one by one, and then they all died, and so did she. Her cunt must have been tired by then. I wonder what it smelled like . . . But the Sadducees were trying to trip Jesus up, see. That’s why they raised the issue in the first place. It was a sting, you see; it was entrapment. We’ve all been there before. They said to Him: Whose wife is she going to be in Heaven? (Because they didn’t believe in the Resurrection at all.) But Jesus got them, Domino. Because you know what He said? He said: You are wrong, knowing neither the Scriptures nor the Authority of God. For in the Resurrection they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are like angels in Heaven. How do you like that?

  So in Heaven she fucks them all or not? said Domino, intrigued in
spite of herself.

  What do you think?

  Sure, said Tyler after a moment. Sure she does. She’s got to.

  What do you mean, she’s got to? You misogynist!

  Tyler rubbed his chin and said: No, no, I didn’t mean it that way. I meant, that would be the right thing to do. She would want to. They all took care of her and let’s assume they loved her, so let’s assume she was at least grateful—doesn’t it flatter you if a john loves you?

  Now we’re getting personal, said Domino.

  Yes we are, Smooth gloated. Go ahead. Domino. Tell us what it’s like for you, and what color their ooze is.

  Oh, knock it off, Smooth, said Tyler.

  You’re always telling me to knock it off. Why don’t you knock it off?

  Knock what off?

  I love it when men fight, said Domino.

  I bet you do, said Tyler. And I concede in advance. I don’t have any answers. But Danny boy here knows everything. In my job, you know, I sometimes ask a lot of questions. If the witnesses are able to answer every question, you know that some of what they say isn’t true.

  So they fall in love with you sometimes? Smooth pursued, paying no attention to this objection. Indeed, it seemed as if he’d taken complete charge of the conversation by now, not so much overcoming arguments as reducing them to demonstrations of disrespect equivalent to the loud cries of a scattered search party.

  Uh, they do, uh huh, replied the blonde with surprising coyness.

  And that’s personal?

  Uh huh.

  Well, my theory is that if you keep saying it’s personal you must be flattered, because otherwise you’d just say straight up that you don’t give a damn whether they love you or not.

  Domino laughed. —Maybe so, she said.

  Now, that being the case, I think you also would do the nice thing if you were in that Sadducee wife’s situation up in Heaven.

  If all those angel husbands pay me first!

  I need coffee, said Smooth. I’m falling asleep.

  You want a toot? said Domino.

  Oh, that’s nice of you. But let’s try this little coffee shop for a minute . . .

  I mean, whatever, said Domino, irritated.

  The Vietnamese coffee shop at Mason and Eddy had lace curtains around the windows so that you could see only the silhouettes of the shoulders inside. Smooth ordered a Vietnamese coffee, jet-black, slow-dripping into a metal cylinder of condensed milk. Tyler chose a can of root beer. —Nothing for me, said Domino. I don’t like these goddamned foreign places. I bet that coffee of yours is full of ground up cockroaches.

  At the next table sat a mother with a six-year-old boy.

  I’d like to get into that, Smooth said.

  Cut it out, Tyler said.

  The Queen ran silently in and kissed Tyler on the lips. Smooth got her a chair. She sat beside Tyler, holding his hand. —Hi, Maj, said Domino. I missed you . . .

  Smooth craned his head, smiling and winking at the six-year-old, whose mother, desolate about something, sat close-eyed with her head in her hands.

  Hello, mister, the child said.

  Why, hello there! said Smooth in his most friendly manner. Are you full?

  Yeah.

  Is your smooth little tummy all full?

  Yeah, said the child shyly.

  Now I have a question for you. Do you like to answer questions?

  Yeah.

  All right then. Here it is. What do you think happens to all that food in your stomach? Smooth asked the child in a calm and even tone.

  It rolls around and around and around, he said.

  And then? said Smooth, leaning forward.

  And then when you have to go to the bathroom it comes out and it’s all brown.

  Hmm, said Smooth. Basically correct.

  Oh, leave him alone, said the Queen.

  Now, Maj, what’s really going on? Domino said.

  With what?

  With you and Henry. By the way, I need some rock. You got any white girl on you, Maj?

  Hush your mouth, bitch. Can’t you see we’re in a public place?

  Maj, I really need something . . .

  The Queen sighed and embraced the blonde, pretending to kiss her while she spat into her mouth. Smooth, who did not use drugs, beamed ironically. Tyler felt a little jealous. Domino clung to the Queen, trembling as she gobbled her saliva down. Finally the Queen pulled away and said: That’s enough.

  Thank you, Maj. Now I don’t hurt anymore.

  Very tastefully done, Smooth said. Now, Maj, what’s the prophecy?

  The Queen pulled the Enemy’s Book out of the pocket of her grubby parka, closed her eyes, opened it, and lowered her dark, scarred little forefinger onto the tiny print. She opened her eyes. But just as she was about to read, the mother at the adjoining table, who had been wandering the cobwebbed corridors of her own despair, leaned forward, her eyes shining, and said: Excuse me, lady, but have you been saved?

  Why, how did you know, dear? said the Queen gently.

  Well, I saw you have the Book . . . Now that I’m a born-again Christian I just feel so free.

  I’m so glad, said the Queen.

  Politically I hate so many people; politically I guess I hate almost everyone, so I’m so grateful to God for forcing me to love.

  That’s nice, Tyler said.

  The way I look at it, blurted Domino, if God is omniscient or however you say it, then when you’re stepping on an ant, God feels what that ant feels. You’re doing that to God.

  Weren’t you two ladies kissing just now? the mother said. You’re not sodomites, are you?

  Why, no, ma’am, Smooth inserted. Didn’t you hear what I was saying to your little boy? I was specifically warning him against such practices. In this world, you know, you have to beware. Nothing is as it seems.

  Is that true? said the mother to her son. Did you say thank you to the nice man?

  Thank you, the child said glumly.

  And remember my advice, son, said Smooth in his best genially distinguished manner. You know. About digestion.

  The mother inched her chair nearer to the Queen and inquired: Are you politically active?

  Well, now, I guess that depends.

  I just fell in love with Bob Dole.

  Imagine that, said the Queen sarcastically.

  I’ve always been a conservative at heart, but it wasn’t until Ronald Reagan became President that I really got politically active. Reagan—well, that man helped me find my roots. I guess I just fell in love with Bob Dole’s smile. I was out there campaigning for him so hard, going from door to door.

  Allrightie, the Queen said. Well, ma’am, we all certainly have enjoyed visiting with you, but now we need to do a little prayin.’

  What church do you belong to?

  First Church of Canaan, Reformed.

  I’m not familiar with that church. Well, God bless you.

  And watch out for that Mark of Cain, ma’am. Now, Smooth, in answer to your question, I do believe we have a prophecy right down here. Are you ready?

  Ready, but pessimistic.

  Africa—

  Henry, you know that’s my private name.

  Sorry, Maj. But I was wondering something. If the prophecy’s bad, what happens if you don’t read it? If we don’t know it and refuse to acknowledge it, then maybe it can’t come true.

  This guy’s a motherfuckin’ ostrich, said Domino, and the mother at the next table gasped at the obscenity.

  Henry, magic don’t work like that. Well, maybe for some people it can, but not here, not for us.

  If I’d done something or said something different, if I’d been somehow nicer or I don’t know what, then maybe I could have prevented Irene’s suicide. The future is—

  How will you ever know? The future, well, I only ever seen it come by once. Now just keep quiet, Henry. Don’t say nothing; don’t do nothing. Whatever it says, we don’t have to be scared.

  This is starting to give me the creeps,
said Domino.

  Well, it gave her the creeps! laughed the Queen, for the mother, seizing her child by the hand, had risen to run away, casting many a baleful glare.

  Smooth opened his mouth wide, snake-flickered his tongue at the woman, and said: This is America, and I can look at you if you can look at me.

  The woman flushed crimson. Tyler was ashamed of Smooth.

  Now then, said the Queen. For the prophecy we got Numbers chapter 13 verse 17, and it says: Moses sent them to spy out the land of Canaan, and said to them, “Go up into the Negeb yonder, and go up into the hill country, and see what the land is, and whether the people who dwell in it are strong or weak, whether they are few or many . . .”

  Okay, said Tyler. We get the idea, Maj. So the vigs are already sniffing around, or soon will be. But I figure it’s not the end yet, because they doubted God, so He delayed the conquest for forty years.

  Well, no parallel is exact, Henry, and I wouldn’t push the issue with prophecy, either. It’s not as if there’s a Negeb Street on a hill in the Castro where somebody’s peeking at us, see. Let’s all agree that Maj’s finger is inspired. I believe in her. I know all of us do. But numbers don’t always translate—

  Why not?

  Oh, how the fuck should I know? Maybe because then the Egyptians would hear of it or the trumpets would resound or some dumb thing . . .

  I don’t know, Tyler said stubbornly, narrowing his eyes. If this is true, and they’re here to spy us out, then why can’t we go spy them out? I’ll do it if you want; I’m expendable . . .

  Hee, hee, hee! laughed Smooth. Was that what your sister-in-law thought?

  | 256 |

  In just the same way that in San Francisco it is often sunnier south of Market Street, so the prostitutes, pimps, thieves and dealers, tiring at last of their own rumors, began to regain their confidence that they could survive the epoch of the vigs. Some hoped to hide and sleep, others to set the streets on fire. Most, of course, remained convinced that nothing would ever happen to disturb their lives. The crazy whore was rapt with optimistic analysis and prophecy, clutching Domino’s sleeve and crying: I know one man who’s bragging that he’s got all the money in the world. And he’s known for going to coffee shops to suck the nipples of Oriental girls for at least half an hour. And he—but Domino wrinkled her nose and said: Shut up, you crazy old bug.