Sin City (29 page)

The man has turned into a bird, a large white bird flying through a bright blue sky with little fluffy clouds. It flies very high, right up close to God. It hardly moves its wings. It's just gliding like the angels do, not crashing down or clumsy like those people in the suits. There's music now, very gentle music. The music flies as well. I close my eyes, flying with the music, with the bird. I think I was a bird once, long ago. I remember flying. I was very light and white and I flew across great white shining spaces, never fell.

The man's voice pulls me back, tramples down the music. He's bending his knees, leaping in the air. I shan't watch any more. They only make it stupid on the screen, pretend flying's very difficult and dangerous. I try to see the bird again, make it fly inside my head, but the voice keeps frightening it, scaring it away. It's telling us to check our pockets, take off any jewellery. It's said that once already. I don't think it's a good film.

“And if anyone wears dentures, it's essential you remove them. They could fly out of your mouth in the force of the wind and cause an injury.”

I open my eyes, stare at him in horror. All my teeth aren't false, just the top ones. A dentist took them out once. I don't know why. They weren't decayed or hurting. He was going to remove the bottom ones as well, but he died on the Tuesday and my second appointment was the Friday afternoon.

I'd hate to take my denture out. I never do unless it's really private. I even leave it in at night, now Carole's sleeping next to me. I don't want her to know I've got false teeth. People laugh at them.

The voice is still speaking, but I can only think of dentures. It's very dark in here, so maybe I could slip it in my pocket. No. You're not allowed to put things in your pockets, not anything at all. The tall man in the tracksuit has just come in again, and is switching on the lights. The film has ended, the boys all standing up. I stay sitting where I am. I feel very very heavy, as if I'm made of iron. I don't think I can fly.

“Are you all right, Ma'am?”

I could do it now, ease it out while he's standing there blocking me from view. At least the boys won't see. But my mouth will go a funny shape without it, and I'll sound odd when I speak. I try to speak, but my voice has flown away. It does that when I'm frightened.

“It's quite normal to be nervous, Ma'am. A lot of folks feel scared when they haven't flown before. Once we start, you'll be just fine.”

I nod. It's easier to nod. He leads us into a passage, hands us each a helmet and a pair of green foam ear-plugs, and some things called goggles which he says protect your eyes. The boys all put theirs on. I don't. He checks the other helmets, then stops in front of me.

“You'll need to take your glasses off. Just leave them on this windowsill and you can pick them up after your flight. Okay? The helmet goes like this.”

He's trying to explain, but I'm feeling very strange now. Everything has blurred without my glasses. He's very big and close and very blue.

“What's the matter? Can't you manage? Here, bend your head. That's it.”

He's putting on my goggles for me, making sure the helmet fits. It feels very hard and heavy, weighing down my head, and there are metal bars across my face as if I'm in a cage. I can't hear with the ear-plugs in, and my voice has not come back yet. All the boys are ready. They're whispering and giggling, looking back at me. One of them has lovely eyes like Carole's. I'll feel dreadful if my teeth fly out and hit him.

“I … I …” It's no good. They can't hear me. I can't even hear myself. I'm shut in like a locked-ward dangerous patient in a tiny padded cell with no windows, only bars, and strapped into a straitjacket with a blindfold and a gag.

The man in the tracksuit is still standing over me. I can't hear what he's saying, but it's something very angry. He's pointing to my feet. I bend over, stare down at my shoes. They're still undone. I feel too weak to try to do them up, so I simply walk away. I think he's shouting after me, but I don't turn round to check.

I've found another passage where there isn't anyone. I see a door marked “TOILET”. They don't have toilets in America. I walk in, shut the door. I'm trembling now, all over. I'd forgotten about toilets, forgotten my weak bladder. Sometimes I need to go very suddenly and quickly. I couldn't in this suit. I'm trapped in it, closed in by the zip. I've got to take it off. I start pulling at the helmet. My head is throbbing with all the fear and worry, and the metal hurts my ears.

At last I tug it off, remove my goggles and the ear-plugs. I can hear noises now, the dripping of a tap, footsteps down the passage.

The steps are coming nearer. Someone's at the door, rattling the handle, trying to get in.

“Everything okay in there?”

It's the man in the tracksuit. I recognise his voice. I stand up very straight, close my eyes.

“I can't hear what you're saying, Ma'am. We're waiting for you. Are you nearly through?”

I don't say anything. I pretend I'm just my feet, sink down into them, curl up in the pain. My toes are all squashed under, so the pain is very bad. I can hear time passing, ticking very loudly in my head. I think the man has gone now. I open the door as softly as I can, eyes still on the ground.

“My friend,” I say, in case there's someone there. “I'm going to go and fetch her. Her name's Carole. Carole Joseph. She's small. She only wears size threes. And she doesn't have false teeth. She'll be able to fly …”

“God! Am I cheesed off! He left me, Norah, just like that. I woke up in the morning and he'd gone. Not a note. Nothing. I rang down to reception and they said he'd checked out two whole hours ago, had to catch a plane and …”

“Victor didn't fly here. He's got a car. He drove here. He told me that. He said he …”

“I'm not talking about Victor. I'm talking about Milt. Milton Sherwood bastard Jones. Fine for him to fly first class and leave muggins to walk back. All that Big-Guy talk last night about missing planes. Well, he should have missed another one, bought us both some breakfast, before buggering off like that – or at least ordered me a cab. I traipsed the whole way in these rotten fucking shoes, from his hotel to ours. I hadn't got a cent left for a bus, let alone a taxi. Hey Norah, you can't spare me a few dollars, can you?”

I fetch my chocolate box. There's not much money left and only two lime creams.

“Where's the rest?”

“I ate them. Just now. I'm sorry. I didn't have my dinner. Or my breakfast.” This is the first day I've felt hungry. I couldn't eat before, not even at that restaurant where the fat man got so cross.

“I don't mean the chocolates, silly. The cash.”

“I … I spent it.”

“What d' you mean, spent it? What on?”

“I got lost, Jan. I had to take a taxi in the end. A lady told me to. She said I'd never …”

“
Carole
. My name's Carole.”

“But you said I had to call you …”

“Not now. I'm not Jan any more. Jan's unlucky. Jan's a stupid little fool. And Atalanta's worse.”

She's almost crying. I feel very sad myself still, but I'm glad she isn't Jan. When I called her that, I felt I'd lost my friend. Jan is Carole's friend, not mine. I've never had a friend before.

“Carole,” I say carefully. I hope I don't forget and call her Jan again. I spent a long time practising, said Jan a hundred times before I went to sleep, so I wouldn't make her angry.

“Have a chocolate.” I pass her a lime cream. I wish I'd bought those chocolates with the wine in. Wine always makes her better. I hate it when she swears. She doesn't mean it, though. Inside, she isn't happy, so she swears instead of crying.

“I don't want a fucking chocolate. I want some cash. Look, how did you get lost, Norah? And why did you go out at all when I told you to stay in and wait for me?”

“I did wait. I only went to look for you, not far. And then I saw this place where you can fly.”

“Oh, don't start that again. Not now. I've got a splitting headache.”

“Everyone can fly now, except people with false teeth. It cost fifteen dollars. I didn't know you'd mind. You said Victor was rich and he'd won some money for us.”

“If you mention Victor again, I'll …” She bites into a chocolate, puts it down, suddenly grabs me by the arm. “Norah, you haven't just spent fifteen dollars, have you?”

“Well, yes …” I hand her all the brochures. That lady gave them to me when I said I was going back to get my friend.

Carole stares at them, sinks into a chair. We're in the downstairs room, the one that's ours, but very red and grand. I prefer the bedroom.

“Good God! You really can fly.”

“Yes,” I say. “You can.” I shan't explain about the teeth. She might not be my friend if she knows I've got false teeth. She's found that form now, the one I had to sign.

“Norah, you didn't sign this, did you?”

I nod. She's very angry.

“How could you? You're meant to swear you're not taking any drugs or seeing any doctor or …”

“I haven't seen the doctor, not for months.”

“You're a patient, Norah. Permanently. Which means you're under a doctor all the time. And you know you're taking drugs. And you've got high blood pressure and …”

“No, the tablets keep it down.”

“Yes,
more
tablets. You could have killed yourself. And what about your leg? You said you couldn't dance last night, and now I find you flying. You must be crazy. Supposing you'd …”

“I … I didn't fly.”

She crams in the last chocolate, turns on me again. “Why say you did then and frighten me to death?”

“I didn't say.”

“Yes, you did. A whole fifteen-dollars-worth of flying. We've got to be really careful with our money. You've already wasted most of yours on that stupid fucking church. I mean, they're rich, those preachers, filthy rich, with vast great mansions and killer dogs to guard them and Cadillacs and private planes and …”

She told me that before, but not so loudly. Victor was there and she didn't shout with Victor there. Victor made her happy. I wish I could make her happy. I did her washing for her and tidied all her things, but she doesn't always notice things like that.

“I mean, d'you imagine Jesus drove a Cadillac or had a bloody great Alsatian baring its fangs outside his $500,000 carpenter's shop?”

I shake my head. I think St Joseph had a dog, but probably a mongrel, something plain and ordinary which slept with him at night.

She sucks a smear of chocolate off her tooth. “It's not just the luxury, some of these religions are really sick, and they're all commercial rackets. Remember that Reverend in a tracksuit selling Jesus Jewellery – lockets with Christ's hair inside, or rings which change colour when God hears your prayer? I mean, it shouldn't be allowed.”

I don't say anything. I liked the rings. I was going to send away for one, but the address went off before I'd found a pencil.

Carole snatches up her jacket which she's only just flung off. “We're going back,” she says.

“To E … England?” My voice stumbles with excitement, with relief.

“No, you chump. To get a refund. Even if you did fly, I'll say you didn't understand the form, or …”

“I didn't fly,” I say again. My voice is limp and grey now. I thought she meant back home. If we left immediately, I could be sleeping in the ward tonight, help lay breakfast in the morning. We have sausages on Thursdays. Sometimes they're not cooked inside, so I only eat the cornflakes. There's a bird on the packet, a bright green cockerel with a scarlet comb. I don't think it can fly. It hasn't any wings, only head and beak.

Carole gets my coat, locks the door behind us, calls the lift. The sun is shining when we reach the street. It makes me look bright and far too big. My shadow is enormous and keeps trembling. At least we don't get lost. Carole has a map and is walking very fast. She's talking about Milt and how she only got his vest. I'm not sure who he is.

There's a long queue at the flying place, but Carole takes no notice, marches right up to the desk. I stay by the notice board, spelling out the poem.

I've wheeled and soared and swung high in the sunlit
silence.

Hovering there, I've chased the shouting wind along
and …

“Norah! It's okay. They've given me the money back. I didn't even have to argue. The girl said they always give a refund if you don't actually fly, or you change your mind or something. She thought you'd only be gone for a few minutes and would be coming back with me.”

“Well, yes. I …”

“Mind you, it does sound quite a lark. I wouldn't mind trying it myself. Did you actually see them flying?”

“No.”

“You should have done. It says on that form you're meant to have a dekko first. You could have gone up to the flight chamber and watched them fly for free. Now we'll have to pay. It costs two dollars for spectators – that's four between us, just to have a peek. Hang on, I'll twist her arm, ask her if we can nip up there for nothing. She seemed quite decent and if I say we both may fly …”

All the excitement is creeping back again. Carole flying. Norah flying. Two white birds winging past each other. Perhaps I could get different sort of teeth, the type that don't come out.

“Great! She says we can. Just a quick look and not to breathe a word, otherwise half the queue will want to watch for nothing. Come on, Norah, quick!”

I follow Carole up the stairs. I'm so excited, I keep tripping and half falling. I could explain about the teeth, take them out first thing, when you remove your coat and shoes. Even if she laughs, it would be worth it just to fly. I close my eyes a moment, lean against the wall. I can hear that white-bird music soaring through my head. We're soaring with it, both of us, Carole just in front, drifting through the clouds. We're clouds ourselves, white and light and floating. We're …