Women & Other Animals (8 page)

"She must've gotten new shocks," whispered Hal.

"What the hell are you staring at?" Victoria growled.

"What do you think?" said Hal.

In the sunlight Victoria's skin was pale and delicate, straining to contain the sagging mass of her face. She had virtually no eyebrows and no visible neck. Her short reddish hair was cut the way Bess used to cut her dolls' hair, uneven and bristly. Bess ran her hand over her own neck and through her heavy shoulderlength hair, but she couldn't look away. Victoria took tiny steps, heaving side to side. Her arms stuck out from her body, and her thighs rubbed together like massive limbless lovers dryhumping through turquoise polyester. A paper bag clutched firmly in one hand, a purse the size of a roast beef in the other, she took the porch stairs one foot at a time, resting at each step, her breathing labored.

Sirens blew in the background as fire trucks and police rushed to the accident to the east. Bess yearned to run along the tracks, to Page 48

discover broken glass and twisted metal scattered over the railroad stones, but her eyes were on Victoria and her awesome locomotion onto the top step.

"Come on, Bess," said Hal. "Let's go see what happened."

"There's an accident," said Bess, feeling, for the first time she could remember, a need to apologize to Victoria.

The woman stepped onto the middle of the porch. Bess realized Victoria had probably never intended to have children, had never meant to make herself the center of such a circle, and yet there she had been, left alone with two of somebody else's. The sirens overpowered the sounds of creaking boards, and without warning, Victoria was crashing through the porch floor.

Brother and sister stared at the hole and at the head which stuck out.

"Stop gawking and get me out of here!" Victoria's sleeve was torn, and a few scrapes on her shoulder began to color with blood. Bess hesitantly grabbed Victoria under one armpit, and Hal held the other. They tugged but couldn't budge her. Bess felt her hand being enveloped by folds of damp flesh. She had avoided touching Victoria for years, for fear that anything about her might be contagious.

"Help me!" Victoria roared.

"Can't you crawl underneath?" suggested Bess, but upon inspection she saw that the perimeter was concrete blocks cemented in place, even behind the stairs. "Can you move at all?"

"I can't move!" Victoria shrieked. "Who built this damn porch? There's bricks down here. My foot's twisted."

"Maybe you should sit?" suggested Bess.

"Didn't you hear me? I can't move!"

Bess looked to Hal, but now he was leaning against the wall, his arms folded, grinning. "Isn't this an interesting situation," he said. He picked up Victoria's grocery bag, pulled out a bag of chocolatecovered nuts and swung them back and forth. "Are you still hungry, Bess?" He produced a pint of Ben and Jerry's ice cream and held his hand in front of it as if he were a game show beauty. "Chocolate Fudge Brownie."

"That food's mine!" said Victoria.

"We're going to need energy to get you out of there." Hal ripped

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open the bag of nuts with his teeth and got a spoon from the kitchen. Sitting on the steps just five feet in front of Victoria, Hal tossed chocolatecoated nuts into the air, one at a time, and caught them in his mouth. Bess marveled that not a single nut fell on the ground. When Hal opened the ice cream and handed it to her, Bess couldn't stop herself from biting spoonful after spoonful.

"You little rats!" screamed Victoria, her voice deteriorating as she grew angrier. "Get me oudear! Ass my food!"

A red Camaro in pretty good shape pulled in the driveway, and out stepped Jimmy, carrying something blue.

"My hat!" shouted Bess, snatching it out of his hand.

"You left it in the car."

"Hi, Jimmy. This is my brother Hal." Bess pulled the security guard hat onto her head.

"Welcome to the carnival, kid. The fat lady is there behind us," said Hal, crinkling up the empty plastic bag. Bess nudged him with an elbow. She couldn't stay mad at Hal.

"Care for the last nut?" he asked, holding it up, offering it to Bess, then Jimmy.

Jimmy shook his head no. He looked mild and insignificant in his clean khaki pants, as rosycheeked as somebody's favorite grandson. Bess tried to puzzle out what she had seen in him before, but her concentration kept breaking down. She looked at Jimmy's plump arms and wondered what it would be like to bite into him.

"Jimmy," said Hal. "Meet Aunt Victoria."

"Hello, ma'am," said Jimmy hesitantly.

"Go to hell, all of you!" sputtered Aunt Victoria's head. She was working at the wood to get an arm out. "I saw you last night."

"Sorry ma'am." Jimmy looked down. "I didn't . . . I mean . . . "

"Get me oudear!" Her face was growing red.

"Shouldn't we pull her out?" Jimmy asked.

"This is part of her exercise plan," said Hal.

"But she's screaming for help."

"We tried," said Bess. "We can't budge her."

"I've ggot to go," he said, putting his hands in and out of his pockets. "See you around, Bess." He hurried into his car and vroomed away.

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"How old is he, Bess, about twelve?" asked Hal.

"I don't know what I saw in him." Bess shook her head. "I was even going to let him poke me."

"Maybe he'll poke me instead," said Hal, wiggling his eyebrows.

"God, Hal," she said. "You've only been queer for three days, and already you're a slut."

Hal slapped his leg and laughed, and Bess felt the last scraps of her anger dissolve into the background of sirens.

Victoria's shouts had gradually turned to whimpers. Bess wished Victoria would stay angry, because her sadness was like the fin of some lone surviving sea monster showing above the water's surface, terrifying but heartbreaking. Bess's mother would never believe how things had turned out. Wherever her mother was, she'd want to think of Bess and Hal playing poker with Victoria, the three of them sitting together enjoying each other's company, telling funny stories.

"I'm calling 911," Bess said. Nobody argued.

When she returned from the house, Bess was relieved to hear Hal and Victoria fighting in their usual manner about Hal's taking more responsibility.

"I'm not paying rent in my own house," said Hal.

"What if I'm gone? How are you going to pay the bills then?" she demanded. Probably nobody but Hal and Bess would have understood all her rumbling.

"Yeah, but I've seen your bank statements. You've got over thirty thousand dollars in the bank. I work parttime for minimum wage."

"You keep out of my papers."

"You going to lock those up too?"

"They're sending someone over," said Bess. "It'll be just a couple minutes."

"Hey, Bess," said Hal. "I'm still hungry. Think we could get into that cupboard?"

"Stay out of my food," said Victoria. Sweat had softened and flattened the hair around her face. "That's my private food."

"I don't think we should," said Bess.

"And look!" said Hal. He waved Victoria's purse. "I'll bet the key's in here."

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"Give me my purse, you bastard!"

"Oh, no, Bess. The dyke is calling me a bastard." He fished through the purse, pausing to hand Bess some butterscotch candies, which she put in her front pocket.

"Keys!" he shouted and made them jingle. Bess wrapped two arms around Hal in an attempt to hold him back, but when he pulled away she followed. She couldn't yet bear to separate from the Hal of her childhood, her dominant twin.

The doors to the cupboard fell open to reveal a whole body of food—bagged, canned, and boxed. A sealed glass jar of pickled beef tongue stared out at them from eye level, repulsive with taste buds; Bess pushed it behind a box of baconcheddar snacks. The bottom shelf held canned fruit and meat, and the middle shelf had breakfast cereals and six varieties of snack cakes. On the top were chips, cheese curls and salted nuts.

"The train!" shouted Bess. "I forgot all about the train."

"We'll go look in a few minutes." Hal was gnawing on a beef stick. Fat oozed out the end. Victoria resumed wailing, competing with the fire trucks and police cars rushing to the wreck. Bess watched through the screen door as Victoria got one arm out. At first she waved it as if to flag down a passing motorist but then laid it to rest on the porch boards. Before she could work her second arm out, an ambulance screeched into the driveway, and two E M T s, a man and a woman, were climbing onto the porch.

"Ma'am, just remain calm. We'll get you out of there." The man spoke to Victoria in a gentle way that made Bess feel ashamed.

Bess and Hal stepped onto the porch. Victoria's face had grown as purple as a beet root. She hissed a few quiet obscenities. "Sonfa . . . " and "Ssss . . . "

"Can we talk to you?" asked the woman, calling Bess and Hal out to the ambulance. "Is this your room?"

"No," said Bess, glancing at Hal. "It's our aunt."

"How much does she weigh?"

"Five hundred, maybe fivefifty," suggested Hal, "no more than your average beef cow." Bess elbowed Hal in the ribs.

"This is a complicated situation," said the woman. She stood taller than Hal and wore a white uniform shirt.

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"We tried to pull her out," said Bess. "We didn't know what to do."

"We'll wait for the fire department. We can get a sort of harness. It should fit . . . They'll saw away some of the wood around her, then we'll lift her out." The woman looked at her watch.

"What's the hurry," asked Hal.

"She can't move," said the woman. "A person that big, it's hard standing on her feet in one place like that. Her ankles are probably swelling. My partner's taking her vitals now. Do we have your cooperation?"

"Sure," said Hal. "Haul away."

"What medications is she on?"

Hal named three medications, and Bess wondered how in the world he knew what drugs Victoria took. Back in the kitchen Bess grabbed a box out of the cupboard and stood over the sink devouring handfuls of candycoated popcorn with peanuts. Before now, Bess had tried not to know anything about Victoria, about what she took or ate or thought; but now she wished she knew everything, including why her mother had loved this woman. Hal appeared with some menthol cigarettes he must've taken from Victoria's purse. They each smoked one, tapping their ashes into the drain. A new siren wailed.

"Let's go," said Hal.

"Should we leave Victoria?" Bess asked.

"We'll be right back."

Bess kept her gaze away from Victoria who was now rumbling at the EMT man taking the blood pressure on her free arm. Bess recalled that her mother used to plant impatiens along the edge of the porch stairs, the only colorful thing that would grow in such dense shade, she'd said. Hal was already running, so Bess jumped off the side of the porch to catch him, holding her hat to her head. She was jumping out of a Navy plane, running behind enemy lines. They could train her to fight and swim in the Navy, and to operate radar.

She and Hal didn't need to go far before seeing the wreck and smelling it. The fourcar Amtrak had ground to a halt and the front was covered with mud, or what looked like mud. Across the tracks

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lay a Stalwart's Septic pumping truck. The crushed chassis sprawled on its side like a smashed pop can, and septic waste continued to dribble out. The fluid had already coated everything—the stones, the rails, the engine, and part of the Amtrak club car. Translucent wads of toilet paper smudged the train and the ground, and flies buzzed over the whole sticky mess. Intercity travelers stared out through the brownstreaked windows of the club car like unredeemed spirits. Bess and Hal sidled alongside a darkeyed man who was leaning against an ambulance. He wore a name tag which read ''Robert" and "Kalamazoo Life Care."

"Was anybody hurt?" asked Bess.

"Truck stalled on the tracks," he said in a surprising Southern drawl. "Driver got out and ran. He's okay. Passengers are fine. The engineer refuses to go to the hospital.

That's him with the fire chief, with the bandage on his head." The driver had glanced at Bess but addressed his comments to Hal. Hal raised his eyebrows at him. Bess stubbed the ground with her toe. "Hal, we'd better go back and check on Victoria."

"I'll be right behind you, Bess."

She stepped back over some pooled fluid in which an expired condom floated; another condom lay ghostly translucent over a railroad tie. Farther down the tracks, Bess misstepped and submerged her canvas shoe in a puddle of sludge. She worked the shoe off against the rail and left it behind. Hal was still talking with the driver.

Bess kicked off the other shoe and went barefoot. Hal caught up with her as she reached the house, where they found a fire department tow truck, a second ambulance—this one a cube van—and a police car. The porch hole had been enlarged, and Aunt Victoria was fastened into a web of rope and canvas. The female technician squatted in the hole beside Victoria, easing her free from below, and Victoria was lifted slowly, like an ancient shipwreck rising from the depths into the corrupting air. She swayed slightly as the boom truck moved her forward, away from the porch, with the straps of the harness pressing into her flesh. The side of her shirt had ripped so that a monstrous breast threatened to burst over a strap, and Victoria seemed to be straining to hold herself together Page 54

by force of will. Bess reached up, and grabbed Victoria's shirt and flesh in both hands and held the seam together as she walked beside her over sharp driveway stones. Though her chest and neck heaved, Victoria's eyes remained tightly shut and her white face was turned skyward. The harness held her arms and legs outspread so she now resembled a floating sea creature, reaching out in all directions at once.

Bess watched Aunt Victoria the way Victoria had watched her waiting for the school bus all that first year. Victoria must have been desperately frightened for Bess back then, terrified at sending her motherless and unprotected into the world each morning, into a world which would flatten a person, or pulverize her, or if she was lucky, throw her clear. While her mother was dying, Victoria had stayed with her in the hospital. Bess now imagined her mother's thinly covered bones as enveloped, awash, in Victoria's ample flesh. Night after night, Victoria had sat a silent watch on death, staring out through a tunnel with an intensity as foreign as the moon to twelveyearold Bess. If anyone were a match for death, surely it would have been Victoria, but death had won.