GOD HATES YOU ALL
, with an instinct for anything hostile or threatening to his brood but still saying nothing to Jason, merely commented ah that’ll do the trick, it’s wonderful, so expressive, and Petites Cendres remembered his visits to Robbie, and in one room under a steep slope of the roof called the cornice room, you could get in via the corridor, Robbie endlessly replayed his videos of Fatalité for Petites Cendres and all his friends, the TV spitting out noise day and night, in a dishevelled T-shirt and his huge hairdo squashed under a wig like Geisha from his morning run down by the sea and his yoga on the beach, Cobra rarely came out of his room in the daytime, so rarely in fact that Yinn thought that his tenants only came out to dump their bad tempers on him, for daylight constraints fell apart after exuberant evenings in the cabaret, so it was the TV in Robbie’s room that blared Fatalité’s life day and night as though she herself were there in the room despite having had her own apartment just steps from the nightclub, though in reality she had died alone and in the deepest silence, not even Robbie being there because at that very moment he was up onstage singing, yet here she seemed to have moved into Robbie’s tiny room which had no other furniture but the TV and the sofa Robbie was asleep on while Fatalité took up all the space in her repeated passes before the camera, big in real life but even bigger now on the screen, moving her bulk endlessly whereas Robbie gave the appearance of shrinking right down to his hair, and if he could he would have slept all day long in his rumpled T-shirt, Fatalité singing and dancing while the eternal Fatalité wrapped Robbie in sleep even while his eyelids flickered, you girls are crazy to sleep all day Yinn would say, no really I mean on a beautiful day like this it’s crazy, right, oh why complain, at least it’s quiet in the house and I can sew in peace, except of course Yinn’s mother, up and at it and demanding, all the while rubbing it in about his marriage to Jason at least once a day, and although he didn’t like it Yinn always went easy on her, and on the landing halfway up the stairs that led to the club he’d placed a stool so she could rest on her way back to the sewing room, from there she could observe Yinn at work and make the occasional comment if she wanted, for she had taught him everything he knew at a very early age he reflected, and that made her happy most of all she used to tell Yinn, now Yinn had all four machines at his disposal instead of the one he used to have, boy you sew fast, thirteen outfits in a week, watch out for your fingers son, she wished she could sit closer to him but knew he wouldn’t put up with it when he was this busy, and although he thought of her as bossy suddenly she was no longer just quietly seated on the landing, even grudgingly wearing her glasses to see better, well son your design classes will always come in handy even though you hated them at the time, being in charge of costumes in the theatre will help you out too she said, perched on her stool, but independence son, now there’s a true gift for a life like yours, why on earth are people so young fast asleep up there, at their age it’s not normal don’t you think, that Robbie for instance, first he’s gone and then he’s back a month later with that Daddy of his, then he just sleeps all day with the TV blaring away the whole time, and that Cobra, I just went to the trouble of taking him his morning coffee and there he is coiled up like a snake in the covers and grumbling to be left alone so he can sleep some more, right into the evening, these insomniac queens of yours are really quite a nuisance son she complained, now you, you’re so different, how can you stand them, ah that’s because I’ve got Jason the best man of them all Yinn replied from amongst a pile of fabrics and Shanghai silks, Robbie’s getting a mandarin collar tonight, oh and thanks for finding that in your catalogues Mama, these Chinese silks are going to look so sexy on him, what about me, they’d look good on me too she said, personally Mama Yinn replied, I like the printed cottons on you better, really that’s what looks best on you, next came the fittings when the boys would parade into the sewing room and Yinn’s mother would retreat to her room, being as modest as she was generous thought Yinn as he watched her comfortably climb the steps to get away from the scenes of boys getting undressed, stuffing blue balls into their bras so Yinn could measure them properly with his tape, he did this with affection but also with a certain distance, as when he tested the fleshiness of the Martiniquan Robert’s buttocks remembered Petites Cendres, wasn’t that always the way with an artist and his model, trying not to tease or seize or invite anything other than his attention, telling him to stand up straight while nimble fingers traced lines over a body he already knew so well, appetizing contours and all, what wouldn’t Petites Cendres give to fulfill his dream of having one of those bodies to be measured, say Cobra’s or Robbie’s or Vanquished Heart’s, the best he could do was scrape by with his favourite comfort-dresses that had holes in them, no Robbie or Cobra or Vanquished Heart here, Vanquished Heart now turned into Triumphant Heart ever since he’d fallen in love, but Petites Cendres was just the loving voyeur of an unrequited love, lover but no lover, living vicarious passion through Robbie and the others, not that the role was a totally unhappy one, in fact he even found a sort of everyday poetry in it, if only he weren’t so in need, cruel need he thought, and if only it didn’t eat at him even more than his hunger for Yinn, well my friends Yinn said, everyone’s set for tonight, don’t forget a thing, and Petites Cendres through Robbie’s dark eyes saw Yinn measuring at the sewing machine beneath the hanging mannequin in a silky velvet dress, arms raised angelically and hovering over him, that whole costume room full of his wonderful creations, all his own, Yinn’s workplace inhabited by as many dissimilar projects as his contradictory states of mind thought Petites Cendres, not just the red paper roses, Chinese roses, Japanese prints on the walls but a wood sculpture of a giraffe under a rubber palm tree by the window, potted plants, and of course those sewing machines beneath the mannequin dressed for a multitude of cultures, layers upon layers of silks and fabrics, and in one of the Japanese lithographs two men, pilgrims walking alone in the desert, his own solitary march through life thought Petites Cendres, surrounded by them all yet still alone, so near yet so far from a world that was closed to him, every bit as long and thirsting as those pilgrims’, all their desires suppressed and left behind like their thirst, just detached and prayerful, suspended in a void made of sand and stone, perhaps this was his lesson for the long, thirsting march through withdrawal that Petites Cendres needed to learn from Yinn, detachment, detachment devoid of all hope, arid or not it could benefit him, as if Yinn had been pushing Petites Cendres just a little further every day, pushing back the frontiers where life ends. Mère heard music in the garden, it
was a string quartet but one she didn’t recognize, then,
leaning toward the window, she realized Mélanie had invited the musicians especially for her, music students and friends of Mai, so serene yet exultant as she heard them in the night like this, what a pity she couldn’t pin down the name of the composer whose music so soothed her nerves, the singing violins and cellos, now where were we again, was it summer and were we sheltered by the red roof of frangipani flowers or protected from the February cold by the little cottage, the smells and perfumes seemed to declare it summer, but whose music could this be, when was this, what vague season are we in, oh the musicians fled under a hailstorm, and Mère was left wondering where Augustino and Samuel could be under this onslaught, where yes where, in days gone by she’d shelter them beneath her raincoat the way Mai was doing now with her cats, they must be fending for themselves by now, Mère no longer saw them, now Mama it was just a bad dream Mélanie was saying as she took her mother’s hands in her own, the doctor’s coming to see you tomorrow, would you like to come up to the house for dinner, Daniel and Mai are back, they were held up by all that fog on the road, Mai had somewhere to go, she always had somewhere to go in the evenings, but she promised to be back by midnight, lost in the fog Mère said, they’re all lost in the fog, and there under the frost-covered trees mother and daughter spoke tenderly, Mère reminding Mélanie again and again that she was quite capable of being alone for a few hours yet, but where was Mai, she’s got a party Mama Mélanie replied, you can’t keep a fifteen-year-old girl at home for long you know Mama, I heard that quartet out in the garden, yes Mama it was especially for you, I thought you’d enjoy hearing them Mélanie said, still enfolding her mother’s hands in her own, Mère was falling asleep now and the sound of the quartet rose again from the garden, the song of the violins and cellos, exultant yet serene though she couldn’t quite recall the composer’s name, for it blended with the blues group out in the street a way off, when somewhere the shutters were closed in a sign of mourning, the call of a trumpet was sure to be heard, what else was it about this that reminded her of Justin and brought her comfort, Justin with his hat and his white suit among the players, all black. There they were, Petites Cendres saw them under the street lamp and in the first red glints of day, Yinn reining in Herman’s rage with a grip on the dangling fringes, his costume from the second show of the night, now you listen to me Yinn was saying, I couldn’t sleep for worrying about you, that’s enough of your games and your little dramas Herman, you didn’t stumble into the set by accident, a dancer like you has better control than that, the whole thing was fake, you were just trying to throw me off weren’t you Herman, that thing on your leg, that sort of black flower goes all the way to the bone doesn’t it, you’ve got one hell of a tumour and it’s getting operated on this week, Jamie the owner’s got every thing arranged, and me, artistic director, I’m responsible for the lot of you aren’t I, and you’re the most careless of all of us, yes you, why’d you lie to us for so long when you knew for certain I’d find out sooner or later, hey I’m the one that gets to see you naked every night in the dressing room and I’ve been watching you for a while now, Herman you’re not getting away this time, listen to me, Herman, unable to loosen Yinn’s hold on him, shook himself violently, leave me alone Yinn, just leave me alone, go ahead, go on with your dancing each night, so what if this black flower thing spreads its poison all over this body you’re looking at, living, alive and furious, it’ll be over quicker that’s all, that’s all I want, to dance and sing, it never occurred to you this just might be incurable did it, whichever it is dancing and singing is what I’ve got to do, don’t you get it, yeah well I had a long talk with your surgeon and he says an operation and a month of rest and you’ll be back on top again Herman shot back Yinn as he gradually loosened his hold, you can dance, sure you can, pretty soon, but first you’ve got to listen to Jamie and me, as he watched this almost virulent scene between two friends Petites Cendres wondered if Herman was going to lose it again, his hand still holding on, Yinn said, the blue of his eyes darkening, listen to what I’m saying, stop lying to the bunch of us, that’s it, I’ve had enough, who the hell do you think is going to condemn a man who’s down, me maybe, is that what you think, Yinn was beside himself with Herman’s lying, and seeing these two passionate but different beings confront one another, Petites Cendres felt himself grow even more desolate, who on the face of the earth would defend him with such passion, Petites Cendres who silently nurtured inside himself something far worse than a little black blossom of cancer on his leg, no, something greater, an entire undergrowth of infection that had already erupted to the surface in the form of spots and meandering marks on the skin, he still relished his magnificent nails and bushy hair along with his unshakable longing to seduce, his desire to be beloved by Yinn, if only a fleeting stroke of his hair or a hasty meaningless kiss, obsessed with saving Herman, Yinn had left Jason lying in their bed or maybe touching up the poster on the computer, and of course the ancient dying dog, there he was in the street in his cargo-pocket Bermudas, hastily pulled on and not quite covering his red underpants, waistband untied and fly wide open, tussling with Herman, both equally intractable, stubborn as that pony Neuvième Beauté against the jockey’s bridle out on the track thought Petites Cendres, all the way up to the second Herman finally said well okay, if I got no choice I’ll listen to you and Jamie, now don’t you think it’s time we got our horse out into the street, the sidewalk I mean, and don’t you think we’ve done enough parading what with Fatalité’s funeral, orchids tossed into the sea and all, enough is enough right, and I know just how you’re going to dress me and the others up when the bikers roll in, a straight-up Versace imitation with a nice little round opening in the back to show off our butts, yeah yeah I know you lean just as much to Versace as Confucius, that’s just the way you’re made Yinn, but would you please make me a cape, a really long cape, a lace one, come on think of something, you know just what I want, and I’ll head way across town on my tricycle, bobbing and weaving through the bikers and their machines on both sides of the street, just us and them, traffic grinding to a halt, and those boots of yours, you know the red leather ones laced right up to the knee, it’ll be my last outing before I go under the knife, forever taking chances aren’t you said Yinn, you can’t do anything like other people can you, the whole collection’s put together and you’re all going to knock ’em dead, black pants, and for you a black hat with a black plume, great, great said Herman, but I want the cape too and I want it so it’ll drag along behind me in the street, how’s a cape going to make it any better Herman, aren’t you proud just the way you are, without some over-the-top cape, I mean you’re meeting bikers now, I was thinking more of the seriousness of black, that always impresses, grabs ’em said Yinn, and even as he spoke he could see them all forming a train, Geisha, Cobra, Robbie, Vanquished Heart, right down the street past the bikers leaning on their black choppers, friendly and graceful in their imitation leather, all the way to the shore, and he’d be in the middle wearing a red dress, his black hair falling down over his shoulders, they’d be photographed, applauded like some fashion parade, then Herman’s voice snapped him back to earth, Pasolini didn’t need a cape to meet his end he was saying, and Versace either, Herman seemed to be talking to no one except himself, all of them, your Pasolinis, your Versaces couldn’t provoke those bikers like I will, see they’re never ever going to forget me speeding across town trailing my lacy cape on my trike Herman went on, it wasn’t going to turn out the way Yinn planned at all, the slow, languid walk of the girls across town in their high heels and black outfits, the exquisite processional, the photos, the overwhelming deafening applause, everything under perfect control under Maestro Yinn’s baton, except of course for the sudden eruption of Herman’s stuttering multicoloured motor-tricycle and a cry, it was Herman yelling someone stuck a knife in my coat, who eh who, c’mon and step forward, someone had thrown a small penknife into the lacework of his cape, sort of a Boy Scout knife, the crowd hushed, standing untouched beneath his cape Herman just went on yelling come on out here, come on and face me, I’m ready for you, not even a scratch, you aren’t getting me that way he defied them, standing tall and proud on the back step of his trike, see Jason, Yinn, what did I tell you, good folks, right, yeah well there’s no such thing, just goose them with a something a little fanciful and they wanna kill ya, but you didn’t believe it, no you can’t do anything with ’em, Yinn and Jason managed to put a lid on his rage right there on his tricycle and Yinn really felt desperate that Herman’s brashness and rebellious impudence would bring someone’s wrath down on him though they had to admire his incorruptibility, Yinn was even more worried at the thought of Herman after a few days’ recuperation from his operation, at the bar and looking pale as he said I only wanted to greet you my friend, and Yinn yelled back yeah well here you are standing around when they just pulled a tumour the size of a tennis ball out of your leg, go home and get to bed Herman or I’ll take you there myself, Yinn took out his red cellphone and warned everyone Herman’s on the loose, stop him, he’s either in a bar or out on the streets, and who’d have thought tossing a silly penknife during the procession would have cut him to the heart more than surgery on his leg, as if some kid’s knife had opened my veins, that’s how he’d put it to Yinn, just saying it seemed to weaken him, but he was cured, nothing I can do Yinn, you and Jamie seem to want me alive at all costs, well okay then here I am, so when do I dance, tonight, tomorrow, come on Yinn, I can’t wait much longer, not tonight and not tomorrow said Yinn, now get back to bed and don’t let me catch you here for a few more weeks, always headstrong eh, look I’m going to tell you just one more time get back to bed and you’d better listen, if not to me at least listen to your surgeon, so cowed by Yinn Herman thought twice before coming in, then in controlled rebellious mode he watched Yinn explaining to a musician how he would wear the black briefs he’d made for the boy in an upcoming show, see it’s elastic but electrifying, you’ll feel great in it Yinn said, examining the stretch of the shorts with expert fingers, seeing Yinn still busy Herman couldn’t admit he was afraid this musician would replace him onstage tonight or tomorrow, who else would wear this thing and why else had it been made to order, he thought he should also get Yinn to fix his cape, the one some evildoer had made a hole in, along with the hole in his heart. The fog was still thick on Atlantic Boulevard thought Mai skating along the shoreline to Tammy’s place, well that’s where she’d told her parents she was going, for an evening at Tammy’s, she skated in-line through the fog this way with a flashlight for a long time, firm legs moving in rhythm, regular, pendulum-like, even melodious as though she were dancing to music, she had a headband over her swept-back hair, she’d need to be skating for a very long time if she wanted to forget her father and the day they’d spent together in the car, not quite knowing what he expected she hadn’t said much, did he want her to confide in him, talk to him, or did he just want to be heard, to have her listen for what he wasn’t saying about Suzanne’s trip to Switzerland perhaps and her assisted suicide, ah no not that, he wasn’t going to talk about that, he wasn’t going to affront his daughter with such talk, hard and raw, out-there with no subtlety at all, and none of this talk that Suzanne herself thought of it as a peaceful departure, peaceful for all of them, really the best thing, we all of us have a right to some dignity, our private silence was how she put it, or maybe he’d decided she was going to a private school, something she’d never ever go along with, then walking in a park and reaching out to a group of does and fauns, suddenly revealed then hidden again in a wet cloak of fog, like her father’s words behind her own breath, are you going out without kissing your grandmother Mélanie had said, when I get back, I’ll kiss her when I come back Mama, she’ll be asleep by then and I’ll just wake her up if I go now, besides I’m already late for Tammy’s, Tammy was today’s new lie, every day there had to be a fresh one, Daniel and Mélanie were friends of her parents, writers themselves, though they didn’t get together much, all she had to do was get in before midnight, besides did it really matter all that much to them where she was, Mai could handle herself just fine and she knew it, whatever she was up to, hey what on earth was he doing there just now, Manuel, dancing barefoot on the fenced beach with some other boys and girls having their very own banquet, Manuel, no longer a boy but a man, co-owner with his father of a deluxe apartment block with patios and terraces overlooking the ocean, all of them drinking alcohol out of cardboard cups, taking drugs no one was supposed to know about, Manuel had posted the beach as private, everyone warned off, including this unattractive kid in his khaki outfit and head shaved to a youthful redness plus his vulgar mud-coloured boots, so Manuel asked his father can I let him onto our beach, yes you have to make allowances for someone who’s returned from hell came the answer, come on kid and share our meal, have a game with us, so it’s true you were there fourteen months, so how come he’s back here all suddenly, khaki vest and crude boots crunching the sand, fourteen months he said, fourteen months, this fish I caught out in the boat yesterday with Manuel, we’ve smoked it on the grill, come, eat Manuel’s father said, and the unappetizing kid red with shaving rash all the way to his temples, same size as me without my skates on thought Mai, same size as me, had a sort of mad attack, yeah I was there right, fourteen months, now here I am, just got here he said, you got