A Beautiful Truth

by Colin McAdam

  Magda and Jonathan were welcomed back to the World and hugged.

  New doors opened and the World grew even more. The great blue wall appeared and its base was flooded with pokol-fear and many things felt less urgent when the limits were expanded and cries did not resound from walls and ceilings.

  A huge new space and days outside, an electric tree and birds. They were amazed to see such open space, and afraid. There were needle trees and the greybald tree, and groves and corners to hide in.

  Mama’s cat got bigger and climbed the electric tree. It went electric and fell over the other side of the wall, and Mama still looks up there some days.

  There are parts of the World where some are still afraid to go. Slowly, though, they explored.

  They got used to grass and dirt and most climbed trees if they had the inclination and Podo could do so like a thought cannot be stopped. Black Podo.

  The more the World grew, the less they went into the Hard except for dinner and sleep.

  Billie and Rosie arrived and they were kept apart from the others for a while because they were yekel. Then Billie made friends with Jonathan through the plekter.

  Rosie came out, Rosie long and dulchy.

  Podo liked Rosie.

  Podo grew bigger.

  Bongo came, fat grey Bongo, old as a stone and slower. He didn’t wake up one day.

  Mama missed her cat.

  Podo and Jonathan and Billie fought. Jonathan rarely bloned before he attacked, he would bite without warning like Magda.

  Billie and Jonathan tried to keep Rosie to themselves. They beat her face and gave her treats, and interfered when she tried to sit with Fifi. She couldn’t leave their side sometimes. Billie pulled her by a foot and his heavy slaps made her fly and roll through the dirt.

  Podo sat close to Rosie, and Jonathan attacked him. Podo lost a piece of a finger and hurt his wrist and he walked with a limp for the rest of his days.

  Podo sat with the others.

  A great fire arose in the world beyond the World, a constant heat, breath of a thousand mouths, and ash on the wind like black feathers. Podo and Rosie sat far apart from each other, but Podo knew that there was something wrong, a small hot thorn in her sight. She called and he knew she was calling for him and he walked to her. He removed an ashen splinter from an eye and she saw again. She gave his fingers a kiss and rubbed him and she looked at him, searching and seeing.

  They smelled smoke and wood, and the sky was orange at night and grey in the day, and everyone sat and moved together forgetting complaints and dislikes and uniting in their worry. When others slept, Rosie lay on Podo’s chest, hot black feathers floating down.

  Rosie looked at Podo, longer looks than any before or since, and she knew when he needed a friend and was the maker and cure of the ache.

  They groomed close and snuck to corners of the World on their own and Rosie stood on her goon. She opened her rosé to the sky, to Podo, and gave the World her pinksalt. Podo invited her to him and she came and turned and arose before he felt her heat and she sat ahead, just ahead. She came back and did the same, again and again, and Podo leapt and showed her his worth. Rosie stretched up and stood and scratched her long body slowly and did this again, a dance for no one but Podo, and she turned to him so often those days, his cock so tired he had to use his finger. To Podo, she couldn’t stop coming.

  Billie and Jonathan pinned her, over and over, and Podo watched, and her pink made the ground a bed of bleeding nerves.

  Rosie got fat.

  She had a new one in the cold white room and people helped her and pushed her and wrapped her, and her dreams might not have been dreams.

  She was scared of her new one and didn’t know what to do. He hurt her and she didn’t know these people and felt sad.

  Rosie walked like no other.

  She was long and Podo’s friend: sad Rosie, dulchy-fruit lips and long stares.

  Rosie’s new one scratched and sucked and screamed. She didn’t know him and he hurt her legs, sucked out her light, made her weak, and when she looked at Podo she had nothing to give, far away no matter where she was.

  She left her new one on the ground.

  People took Rosie’s new one and gave him to Fifi and taught her the bottle and called him Burke.

  Fifi liked milk and drank the bottle herself, but people got angry and shouted whenever she drank it. Dr. David sat and showed her how to put the bottle in the tiny lips of Burke, and she pretended not to look in case Dr. David saw how much she wanted to kiss the new one and hold him and mimble yamyum, he was so chewy-eety she could feel him in her gums when she stared.

  ¡Baby!

  She held him and gave him the bottle and cream came from her bones and one day dripped from her nipples.

  Mama was sad, like fruit wasn’t in her hands even when it was, and when it was it didn’t taste like fruit. She sat in a corner of the World watching trees blow back and forth. They blew back and forth while Rosie wasted; and while everyone worried and arphled and wept, Mama sat still and heard nothing.

  Rosie’s sadness was younger and more vicious than Mama’s. It ate her.

  Billie pushed into weak Rosie, and Podo saw from afar Rosie being hurt. Billie pinned her and beat her and she couldn’t stand up. People took Rosie back to the cold white room.

  Podo waited and watched, dark Podo.

  He sat with sad Mama and patted her goon.

  He groomed the tangled hair of Magda and tried to envision her unhale visions.

  He waited for Rosie.

  It got cooler outside then warm again, and no one saw Rosie, ever again.

  Podo watched and scratched and frowned, and when Billie slapped Mama for not giving him watermelon Podo took him by the foot and bit between his legs. No one had heard such sounds. Billie tried to fight but Podo pounded his face and jumped on his cracking and weakening body until no more noise came from Billie. Podo dragged Billie through the dirt. He dragged him and waited and pounded the ground and jumped, and dragged him farther and pushed him into the chill of the pokol-fear, no matter how the others screamed.

  Fifi walked with Burke beneath her belly.

  Mr. Ghoul saw dark Billie face down beneath the cold surface. Red was rising from between his legs like smoke from a blown-out match.

  The death of Billie stayed with them. Podo dragging his body.

  They needed protection from the things you cannot see. They were afraid of those things; they were not afraid of Podo.

  Podo threw urulek at uninvited Visitors.

  He helped all who lost—the losers of fights, the losers of food, the losers of new ones and oa.

  He knew how to choose his grudges.

  He never forgot that Jonathan made him limp and took a piece of his finger.

  As Mama watched Fifi feed Burke and protect him, she wanted a new one all the more. She waited for Fifi to put Burke down so she could take him. Days passed and she got used to change. People had shown Fifi what to do with Burke and now Mama understood.

  Burke watched what everyone did, learned how to eat and climb and his little eyes were open to everything, he never turned his face. Mama helped Fifi and kept Burke away from harm.

  Jonathan thought Burke was in the way of Fifi. Burke would climb all over her whenever she was pinned, and Jonathan could not tolerate being screamed at when he tried to enjoy the heat. He slapped Burke off the back of Fifi and this put everyone in ¡harag!

  The young ones must be tolerated.

  Fifi and Mama chased Jonathan into a needle tree and everyone circled and screamed.

  It was then that Podo sensed how weak Jonathan was in the group.

  When treats were thrown down from the roof of the Hard, Podo took what he wanted, but he also made sure that Fifi got extra, and that he got in the way of Jonathan.

  He watched as Jonathan screamed and turned to others for help, hand held out, embraces neglected.

  At first he and Jonathan fought, but Jonathan no longer won. And as th
is all continued and Jonathan’s begging was ignored, Podo found the solution.

  Podo gave Jonathan food.

  Jonathan began to beg from Podo, to turn to Podo for help and rely on no one else.

  As Burke moved from Fifi’s belly to Fifi’s back, from Fifi to Mama and up his first tree, Jonathan began to believe he was beholden to Podo, indebted to his wisdom and generous hands.

  Magda slapped Jonathan for sitting in her shade. Podo shouted at Magda on Jonathan’s behalf.

  So convinced was Jonathan of Podo’s strength and beneficence, he greeted Podo more often than anyone, and eventually more loudly. Mr. Ghoul could hear Jonathan’s salaams from the other side of the World. Whenever Podo approached directly, Jonathan bobbed and slithered backwards.

  Jonathan made himself small.

  Podo did favours for everyone, and they naturally turned to him whenever they wanted something that they couldn’t get on their own. They turned to him or feared him whenever there was a dispute.

  Fights broke out involving everyone sometimes. It was impossible to know how they had started unless it was a watermelon being thrown down to them by someone on the roof. Podo chose no sides. He fought until fighting stopped, smacking goons and pounding backs in the middle of the rolling krieg. Podo helped the ones on the bottom, the ones whom no one helped, and everyone needed help sometimes. And when he bit and tried to hurt, he hurt everyone. And the feeling that lasted for not very long was that fighting shouldn’t happen. Another short-lived feeling was that no one was to blame. The feeling that lasted longest was that Podo hurt everyone and thus hurt no one, because the pain that is truly longest is the one that comes from knowing that someone else was preferred and protected before you.

  Tired Podo.

  Fifi and Magda had new ones of their own in the cold white room and never saw them again. Days and dreams are light and colours and some of them disappear.

  Then Magda had one which people called Bootie: that Bootie.

  Mama felt slow and the World seemed slightly tilted. She got fat and felt like her belly would touch the ground when she walked.

  There were new high stones to climb in the World, and Mama climbed them. She wanted help but wanted to be on her own. She felt a need to be away from others and wished she was in her bedroom.

  She climbed to the highest stone and felt sick, and the melon, nuts and scallions which she ate that morning burst up from within and spilled out on her arm and the stones.

  She descended one level and held on to the highest stone with one hand, leaning for support.

  She felt pressure in her rosé. She closed her eyes and hid the World and the movements inside started hurting so much she kept silent instead of screaming and could not be alone enough.

  She stayed standing on two legs and put her long fingers inside her rosé to relieve the pressure. It was warm and wet and she withdrew her fingers and licked them. She reached back and put her hand inside herself again and felt a tickle of warmth between her fingers.

  She sat.

  She thought.

  She stood up again.

  She put her hand inside again, deeper, and she moved around, got down on threes, stood up again with her fingers inside and felt something tighten and release.

  Something poured out and soaked her arm.

  She got down on all fours and felt nothing.

  The pain returned and she sat with her back against the stone and rested. She felt as though she was dropping to the arms of untrustworthy yeks. She put a hand across her belly and liked the weight of it, watched her arm rise and fall through a contraction.

  She held a hand outside her rosé. She squeezed around the outside, then held her hand beneath it, expecting something.

  She felt tight inside and made a noise that unsettled the World. Fifi had been watching her for a while and walked towards the stones when she heard the yekel noise. Fifi climbed up some of the stones and watched Mama, who turned on her side and looked at Fifi and some of the pressure receded for a moment when she could see the face of her friend.

  Then it came back. Mama moved around in silent agony and Fifi felt sad but had no pictures and watched like the innocent watch a thing they cannot expect. Fifi’s new ones came out in the cold white room and she was always made to sleep.

  Mama put her hand under her rosé and Fifi watched it open. It closed and opened and closed and opened and dirty fruit was emerging.

  Then the fruit was a tiny goon with a face and in a hot wet rush a body came out and Mama caught it in her hand.

  Mama hauled the body onto her belly and hugged it. A yellow string was attached and was wrapped around her tiny chest. Mama unravelled some of it.

  Fifi looked at the lek all over the stones and the new one on Mama’s belly.

  Mama felt a memory in her rosé and something else came out, which she caught in her hand and brought directly to her mouth. She ate some of it while the new one lay on her belly.

  Fifi looked at the placenta and held out her hand for a piece but Mama kept it and ate.

  She licked the red from her hands.

  The new one was still on her belly.

  Mama bit the yellow string, ate some of it, and the cincture was undone from the new one’s chest. Mama removed it and put her lips to her tiny lips and snut and sucked out the salt and the new one became more lively. Mama hugged her and she pleeped tiny grief and Mama made noises quiet and soft and rarely made. She kept sucking and licking the salt and red spit from this vivid apparition and felt stunned and short of breath.

  Fifi walked back to the others and sat with Magda near the monkey bars.

  Mr. Ghoul saw a small brown bird.

  Mama slept and when she awoke she gave the new one some kisses and hugs and kept her on her belly. She remembered Fifi and Magda, how Burke and Bootie ate, but the new one wouldn’t wake up on her belly. Mama got up and carried her like her cat, and climbed down the stones with no strength in her legs. She took her across the grass and sat on her own and wanted no one near her. People stared that night through her plekter bedroom.

  Everyone wanted to see.

  She touched her with the back of her fingers in the night and she sucked.

  Mama stayed in her bedroom for days and people brought her food. No one could come in and she lay her new one on the floor. She lay next to her and stared.

  Mama smeared red on the floor. The yellow string dried up.

  She lay on her back with the new one on her belly and wriggled and wanted to squeeze. She ground her back and legs into the concrete, looked to the ceiling, tried to wriggle deeper into that memory, this floor, don’t squeeze, those fingers, are true. Softbone body, chest on Mama’s belly.

  Nothing ever slept so small and still on an earth so heaving with want and satisfaction.

  twenty-one

  Montpelier’s golden dome.

  Smooth wool against the leg or khaki or cavalry twill. Dry-handed handshakes and echoes of Mike, get it to Mike if you want to get it done. The Senate Chamber was intimate, elegant but modest, and the vessel of his happiest days.

  He had won the most votes in every town but two. All the shoe leather and meetings paid off. While Walt and Larry searched for ease in their days, seeking distraction and toying with nature, Mike had come to be known in different towns—a new barn near Goshen; Rotary in Middlebury; in Ripton, years back, he had gained popularity by preventing an eighty-thousand-square-foot box store from arising and choking the land—and everyone came to support him.

  He was humbled.

  For the land and the people’s wishes he had learned to take down giants. On councils he had stalled applications, using wetlands as obstacles, demanding elaborate and unaffordable sewerage, using utility poles, traffic lights, sidewalks, winter maintenance in such a powerful combination that most developers went running. Early on, this was sometimes in the common interest of his partnership with Walt and Larry, but that interest never did anything but enrich the state of Vermont.


  He had done his work for the towns, and now that he was in the Senate he could focus on higher things.

  Every year he attended the Addison County Fair and Field Days, and now that he was senator he had the privilege of serving food in the fairground’s main dining area. He made a point of serving Motts Vermont chicken from the Motts farm eight miles away, with mashed potatoes.

  It was such an opportunity to get to know his constituents and their concerns, to touch each other with words, to showcase Vermont’s products and to celebrate the fact that food is more than food, it is communion. When it comes from the right place and is touched by hands that care, it is goodness. It is health, not mere survival. When harvested locally, sustainably, it is giving back to the earth. A chicken with no beak, pumped full of steroids and preservatives, suffering an unholy immolation and travelling by jet and truck to packing plants in the dirty corners of fallen cities—that is not food. That chicken knows no more of what it came from than those who make a living in the theatre.

  I know the people who raised this chicken: Robert and Jennifer Motts. They live just up the road.

  To know our food is to know ourselves, to know our place on this earth.

  On the night before each Fair and Field Day he had a waking dream of himself, a benefactor at the centre of a long table, grateful for his responsibilities and for the gratitude he receives. He saw the smiles and the beautiful little mouths.

  Judy came one year while Mike was attending. She said it’s nice of you to take the time to do this and he said to serve is the highest thing I could do. He smiled and laughed because a laugh commands another’s smile.

  She was a very charming woman, a little older now. She had never had the chance to congratulate Mike on his appointment, but he could tell from her behaviour that she was pleased for him.

  Mike was wearing an apron and he dared to look long at her.

  The centre of the eye is a tunnel through the past to the future.

  I think about our ancestors when I do this said Mike.

  He offered Judy some chicken.

  No thanks.

  Somewhere way back a man was doing this for his family. For his tribe. Sharing the meat that he earned. Not that I earned this, he laughed, although it was an ordeal getting the Motts to sell these chickens at the price I offered.