Irma Voth

by Miriam Toews

  Where’s your brother? I asked her.

  Inside, she said. We’re on our way to the last ditch hotel. They’re supposed to make excellent smoothies there, that’s all I know, and that’s all my stomach can absorb. My brother will drop me off and only pick me up again if I’m clean at the end of it. Otherwise I’ll just be released into the atmosphere like a toxic gas. I’ll just wander around the desert like Neal Cassady or whatever and eventually lie down for a nap on railway tracks.

  She told the kid to go and find his dad. She told us that her brain had disintegrated to the point where her eyeballs had minds of their own and that even when she knew she was staring straight ahead her eyeballs would do their own thing and look elsewhere, off to the side or up towards the sky. She told us that even her one-thousand-dollar-a-day rehab facility in Malibu with equine therapy had failed to take. They think my brother will help me but he won’t. He’s fed up. She pointed at the store. I have to want to stay alive or not. I told her it looked like she wanted to.

  Do you? said Aggie. She had stood up and was facing Lindsay Beth with her hands on her hips.

  Well, she said, I want my hair to stop falling out. She pulled out a chunk of her hair and showed it to us. She held it tenderly in her hand like a wounded bird. Aggie stared at it for a long time and seemed distressed when the girl finally threw it into the wind and it flew off towards El Paso. We talked for a while about things and played a little hide-and-seek game with the boy and waited and waited.

  FOUR

  BY THE TIME WE GOT HOME a little apocalypse was brewing. I saw smoke coming from the field behind my house and told Aggie to stay put and then ran over to investigate. I saw the car. I saw the fire. I saw Jorge.

  You’re home! I said. I ran up to kiss him and hug him. I wanted to touch him. I wanted to feel the hard slope of his back. I wanted to put my head under his shirt and pin him to the ground and listen to his heart beating but he was busy throwing stuff into the fire.

  Where were you? he asked.

  Where were you? I said.

  Help me put this shit away, he said. We carried his boxes into the back shed and he hoisted them up into the rafters. After that he relaxed a bit and smiled and even made a few jokes and was almost like his old self and we went into the house and I made him something to eat and he gave me a new pair of sunglasses which I put on and then he gave me a new pair of jeans which I also put on under my dress.

  We fooled around for a while, throwing grapes into each other’s mouths and then bouncing them off the wall and seeing if we could still catch them in our mouths.

  How’s your mom? I asked him.

  Good, he said. Says hi.

  Jorge said he wanted to teach me some dance move he’d learned in Chihuahua city. You stand like this, he said. He turned me around so he was behind me.

  How’d you learn this dance? I said.

  Then slowly grind down to the floor by moving your hips like this, he said. He demonstrated.

  But where’d you learn to dance like this? I said.

  Like a rotor, he said, and while you’re doing that, I’ll stand behind you with my hands on your hips like this and I’ll grind down too. Okay, go. Slowly.

  I tried to remember the instructions. I knew the objective was to get down to the floor in a squatting position.

  No, he said, you’re dropping way too fast, like you’re dodging a punch or something. You have to make small, slow circles with your hips, like gradually, until you’re down. I tried again.

  Irma, he said, it’s not that hard. What’s your problem? Look. He showed me what to do.

  See? he said. Stop laughing. Try again.

  I stood up and shook my head. I can’t, I said. I’m sorry, but—

  Take your dress off, he said. Okay?

  I don’t have a top on under, I said.

  Yeah, I know, he said. That’s okay, it’s nice. It’ll be nice. I took my dress off and stood there topless in my new stiff jeans and sunglasses.

  Yeah, he said, you look good. That’s nice. Okay, let’s try it again. He stood behind me and put his hands on my hips and we began to grind. He whispered in my ear. Slowly, Irma, he said. Even slower. He slid his hands up to my breasts and played with my nipples. In circles, Irma, he said. Move your hips in circles. Yeah. Do you feel me? I could hear him breathing. Okay, and down now, Irma, but slowly, really—Fuck! Irma. What the hell is your rush? Look, I’m up here still and you’re down there crouching like you’re taking a dump.

  I don’t know, I said. I don’t get the move. I’m sorry. It feels weird.

  Jorge sat down at the table and rubbed his eyes and sighed.

  Irma, he said, I’m trying to improve our lives.

  I know, I said. I’m sorry. Can we try it again?

  I’m so tired, he said. He took my hand and kissed it.

  I’m sorry, I said again.

  I’m sorry too, he said.

  I miss you, I said.

  Irma, I’m so tired now, he said. But I can’t sleep anymore.

  Why don’t you try sleeping now? I said. I could lie down with you until you fall asleep.

  I’m not a little kid, he said. He put his head down on the table and I rubbed his back and kissed his hair.

  Are you tired of being a man? I asked him.

  Why would you say that? he said. That’s so messed up. Are you tired of being a girl?

  Yeah, sometimes, I said.

  Well, why would you even think that? said Jorge. Irma, you have to stop talking that shit. Do you want to become a man?

  No, I said. It’s not that. I’m just asking if—

  Fuck it, he said. Never mind.

  I told you I was sorry, Jorge, I said. I can’t do that dance. These jeans are—

  Just stop talking, he said. I don’t give a shit about the dance, okay?

  Why should I stop talking? I said. How can I explain things if I don’t talk? I can’t move in these stupid pants and—

  Why don’t you just go sit in the corner and breathe, he said.

  What? I said. That’s kind of a dumb thing to say when—

  There was a knock at the door and I grabbed my dress and put it back on and whipped off the sunglasses and went to see who was there. It was Miguel. He was leaning against the door frame, smiling and shy in his skinny black jeans and giant white sneakers.

  Crap! I said. I forgot about cooking. I saw this fire in my yard and had to … I’m sorry. I’ll be right there. Is Aggie still at the house?

  No, no, I’m the one who’s sorry, Irma, said Miguel. I don’t mean to bother you. He looked around me and into the house.

  No, no, it’s fine, I said. But is Aggie still there?

  Diego asked me to come, he said. Aggie is there, yes, she’s fine. She’s learning how to juggle devil sticks.

  Jorge came to the door and I introduced him to Miguel in Spanish. Then Miguel left and Jorge closed the door and said. So, Irma, who the hell is that and what the hell is going on?

  As questions go, they were good ones. Jorge took off. Jorge’s gone again. I tried to tell him that my father was threatening to sell the house and I’d need to have a place to live, preferably with him, he was my husband, maybe we could live with his mom in Chihuahua city, I could sell cheese, I could get a job, I could learn to dance, but Jorge said those were just words.

  Well, then this is just a situation, I said. And you’re just a man.

  You don’t even know how to argue properly, said Jorge.

  Well, I think your age is starting to show, I said. You didn’t even fix the generator.

  What do you mean by that? he said. We’re the same fucking age. You’re just saying stupid things to keep me here.

  Why would stupid things keep you here? I said. I want you to stay. You’re my husband. You’re supposed to stay here. I’m probably stronger than you are.

  What is that supposed to mean? he said. I was running along beside the car now. He was leaving.

  I was yelling. Why do you want to kn
ow what everything means? I said.

  Take your hand off the wheel, he said. Irma. Please.

  I ran for a long time, like a dog, like Oveja. Stupid. I was stupid. But not stupid enough to keep Jorge from leaving. I had options. I could have stood perfectly still like the Tarahumaras, and waited. But all I wanted was to run. I fell a few times and ripped my new jeans, stovepipes the label said, no wonder they were so stiff, and scraped my legs and got back up to run some more. When I stopped to catch my breath I realized I was on the road in front of my parents’ house and the lights were on and I could see my mom in the kitchen and it looked like she was cutting something with a knife and she kept looking down and then up and then down again and I guessed she was giving some bits of food to my little brothers. But they were too short for me to see them in the window and she was talking to them too. She was out of bed. I wondered if she was okay. Then I turned around and passed my house, mine and Jorge’s, and there was nobody in the kitchen, nobody handing anybody anything. I finally made it to the filmmakers’ house and walked right up to the front door and knocked my head against one of those plastic bags filled with water to keep the flies away and I punched it hard and broke it and the water sprayed out of it and drenched me and I didn’t care, I opened the front door and walked in. Everybody, including Aggie, was watching TV and didn’t really notice me but I said hello in a few different languages and then walked into the kitchen and yanked a pot out of the cupboard and slammed it onto the stovetop and hauled some food out of the fridge and turned on the tap to boil water and grabbed the sharpest, biggest knife I could find and cut up the vegetables and the meat and flung all the pieces into the pot to cook. Then I took some other pieces of meat and went outside and flung them at Oveja so he wouldn’t forget that we were friends and then went back to my cauldron.

  Irma, said Diego. He was calling me from the living room. He was shouting over the TV.

  Sí, I said.

  More rain is forecast for tomorrow, he said.

  Hallelujah.

  I heard Elias talking about some girl’s rock-hard ass. He said it was so hard he could play “Wipeout” on it. He made some strange sounds. I heard Diego call Elias an idiot. They insulted each other’s mothers, playfully. Then Elias started impersonating a woman. I threw more stuff into the pot and stirred so hard it slopped over the sides and onto the stove and made little hissing noises.

  I could hear Aggie laughing, pretending to know what was going on. Go home, I said. Too quietly for anyone to hear. You should go home. Diego came to the kitchen to talk to me.

  Oh my God, he said. Irma, I cannot believe this.

  I’m sorry, I whispered. I’m not … This is ready to eat, I think. I pointed at the pot on the stove.

  What are you doing? he said. He put his arm around my shoulder. What’s wrong?

  I don’t know, I said.

  Please stop crying, he said. Irma. Please?

  He sounded just like Jorge, calm and sincere, when he asked me to stop screaming and chasing him down the road. He stood behind me. He put his arms around my waist and his chin on my shoulder. I kept stirring the slop I’d created hoping he wasn’t expecting me to grind down to the floor right there at the stove.

  I went outside and walked to the barn and sat down on the concrete pad and leaned against the door. Diego came outside and talked to me. He asked me how I was doing. He asked me what was wrong. He told me that his parents had died in a terrible car accident twenty years ago and after that his brother had decided to walk to America. He was fifteen years old. He left the house and started walking north and he hasn’t seen him since.

  Do you think he’s alive? I said.

  Yes, said Diego.

  Why do you think that? I said.

  Sometimes my phone rings and nobody talks, he said.

  You think it’s him? I said.

  Yes, he said. I know it’s him. I talk to him about things. Simple things. My life. My work.

  And he never says anything? I said.

  That’s right, he said. He listens and then when he’s heard enough he hangs up.

  But why doesn’t he want to talk to you? I said.

  I don’t know, said Diego. But it doesn’t matter. It’s not important. I’ll talk to him and he’ll listen. That’s how it is now. Like a prayer.

  Eventually everybody ate except for Marijke and José who were fucking in her room, according to Diego. She is very angry with me for making her ride with Alfredo in his truck, he said. So she is trying to make me jealous with José. I know her astrological sign well. Very intense. Have you ever been dumped by somebody you didn’t even know you were dating? That has happened to me. It’s surprising.

  Oh, I said. So are you jealous?

  Only a little, said Diego.

  Where’s Alfredo? I asked.

  He went home to his wife and kids, said Diego. He and Marijke had a fight.

  About what? I said.

  Well, said Diego, from Marijke’s body language I think that Alfredo made a pass at her in his truck. I spoke to him about it and he said it was nothing. He put his hand on her leg, like this, she could have been his sister, but she became inordinately angry. She said she wanted to break the truck’s side-view mirror and use the shards to slice Alfredo’s hand off and then throw his hand out the window for the condors to feed on.

  But she didn’t, I said.

  No, said Diego. She hit him in the face. Now he’s very mad and I’m a little frustrated with her, but don’t tell her because I’m afraid she’ll leave. European women are difficult, he said. They overreact. For instance, French women hate papaya. They say it tastes like urine. I know this. So, if she wants to sleep with José I don’t care.

  Diego went outside to stare at the sky. He needed rain. I wished I was a difficult European woman. It occurred to me that Marijke was the same age as my mother. Elias gave me a beer to drink when he saw that I’d been crying. It tasted awful. I had another one. We were outside sitting on the bench in front of the house because I didn’t want Aggie to see me drinking beer. Elias taught me how to smoke marijuana from his vaporizer. He asked me if I wanted him to sing and I said yeah.

  Frankie Valli or Van Morrison? he said. I don’t know, I said. I don’t care. Frankie Valli.

  He started singing. He stood up and pretended to be holding a microphone.

  I passed him his vaporizer. Like heaven to touch? I said.

  Yeah, he said.

  He sang for a while. You can’t be in a bad mood if you’re singing, he said. If you sing a song it’s important that you sing the living shit right out of it. With this part of you. This part here. You should sing with me.

  I don’t know any real songs, I said.

  How can you not know any real songs? he said. I thought about the songs I had vaguely known in Canada.

  Your love is lifting me higher and higher, I said. Is that a song?

  He told me he was going inside to finish watching the movie. I looked through the window and saw Aggie sitting very close to Miguel on the couch. Their knees were up like little kids. They had their arms around their knees. They looked like Russian dolls. I tried to think. I needed a plan. I closed my eyes and saw only vines and waterfalls. I got up and walked back out into the dark yard so I could see the stars a little more closely. They didn’t give a shit about my plans. I was trying to figure out what I was going to do with Aggie and then I heard some scuffling and a familiar voice.

  Buenas noches, chiquita, said Wilson. Cómo estás?

  What are you doing here? I said. I can’t believe you’re back! Where did you come from?

  I got a ride to Rubio and walked the rest of the way.

  That’s a long way to walk, I said. Are you okay?

  Yeah, yeah, he said. A little tired.

  Why did you leave? I asked.

  That’s obvious, isn’t it? he said. Diego and I had a fight but we worked it out.

  What were you fighting about? I asked.

  I don’t know, said
Wilson. His recklessness. It makes me mad. I’ve worked for him before and we’ve had the same fight. He’s a genius but he taxes me. I feel that he extorts from me. Painful feelings. And then I’m happy to be extorted. I don’t know. I just want to make some money and go live in Paris or something for a while and write. Or just read, for like a month. Nothing else.

  What do you want to read? I asked him.

  Jung, he said. I want to read his journals and everything else he’s ever written. The way he understands the human mind. But not just the mind. Do you know him?

  Let’s go over there by the fence and talk, I said. It’s darker. Irma, I told myself, try to make sense when you speak.

  He walked ahead of me and I watched him. When we got to the fence I put my arms around his neck and kissed him. He smiled and leaned back.

  Is it electric? I said.

  I don’t think so, he said, I didn’t feel a shock. He put his hand on the wire fence and held it there for a few seconds. No, he said. Or it’s burnt out.

  That’s good, I said. I kissed him again and took his hands and put them on my waist.

  Do you have a girlfriend? I said.

  No, but you have a husband, he said.

  Yeah, I guess, I said. Would you like to make love right now? Or something like that? Do you think you could or are you too tired from walking?

  Here? said Wilson. He looked around at more of the same. Grass, darkness, stars.

  Well, maybe just … like, over there a bit, I said. I pulled him slightly farther away from the fence.

  We lay on the grass and Wilson peeled my jeans off and lifted my dress up over my arms and then folded all that clothing neatly and put it under my head as a pillow. He sat cross-legged beside me and ran his hands lightly up and down my body. I barely moved. I stared at the stars, mostly. I looked at him once or twice.

  Your knees are all scraped up, he said.

  Those jeans are … they’re called stovepipes, I whispered.

  You have an on/off button, he said. He touched the mole in the centre of my sternum.

  Aggie says it’s Zacatecas, I said. If my body was a map of Mexico.