Katherine Dunn: Attic

The air is damp. The gray light from the window makes the bulb’s light invisible. Outside in the square the carillon bells begin the day with “I’ll take you home again Kathleen.” The first notes fall heavily through our window.

Marie is at the bugs again. She is silent and terrible. I’m as still as possible trying to let Dogsbody rest. She is still totally unresponsive.

Lunch is here. Dry turkey and cranberry stain on the paper. Mashed potatoes. I have a Styrofoam cup of my own now. The old man brought it. He said “Happy Thanksgiving.” These plates follow those from breakfast onto the pile in the corner. Fewer bloody rags show on that pile now.

He’s here for me again — the old man. He’s standing patiently at the door while I make my way to him. It hurts to walk now. I mustn’t fall with Dogsbody in this condition. The outer room is brighter now. Does Marie ever leave the cell?

“Marie? You mean the gal in there with you? Her name is Sophie.”

We’re in the basement again. Two men in a large room. Fingerprints. He holds my hand to press each finger first on the ink pad then on the paper. A little tub of soap jelly, the ink disappears from my fingers. The other man sets up lights, a camera. I lean against a stool in front of a large sheet of paper. A feeble D.B. smile, the profile. May I have a copy when they’re printed?

“Sure Baby, you bet.”

I’m afraid of the telephone but it’s the law. The dial spins beneath my fingers. Buzz — click.

“At the tone the time will be 1:13 and 30 seconds…dong.”

Hello Horace this is K.

“At the tone the time will be 1:13 and 40 seconds…dong.”

Will you get me a lawyer?

“At the tone the time will be 1:13 and 50 seconds…dong.”

Thanks Horace, anybody will do — don’t spend a lot—

“At the tone the time will be 1:14 exactly…dong.”

Thanks a lot, really. It’s good to know you have friends.

“At the tone the time will be 1:14 and 10 seconds…dong.”

O.K. Goodbye, I’ll see you.

“At the tone the time will…click.”

I turn smiling to the two men. Their teeth are showing and their scalps seem tight.

I can hear voices in the next room. They are coming in through the open transom. Marie hears them too. She leaves her bugs for the moment and goes to the door. Looking up toward the transom she hooks her fingers into the steel lattice of the inner door. She puts the toe of her left sneaker into the lattice a foot from the floor. She pulls with her arms and pushes with her left leg until she can put her right toe into the lattice above the left. She moves her left hand higher, and then her right hand. She climbs the door like a net. At the top she hooks her arms over the sill of the transom and stands in the upper strips of the lattice. She turns her head to look at me and then looks through the transom. I can see far up her skirt to where she stops being thin legs and becomes fat thighs. She shouts and her skirt shakes as she shouts. “Let me out of here! I want out of here!”

The voices go on in the next room without a break. After a while she comes down but her neck and face are very red. She sits at one end of the bunk for a long time. I sit at the other end wishing they would take her out so I could piss.

Marie is pissing and shitting simultaneously into that clean toilet. She just got right up off the bunk and walked over there and pulled up her skirt and sat down. I turned my face away quick and put my cheek to the cool wall but I can hear it anyway. Her water is running into the toilet water and the porcelain and water form an echo chamber for her farts. Every few seconds there is an isolated splash. She just sits there looking at the floor as though she weren’t doing anything.

I don’t have to have a perfectly clean toilet. I could piss over her piss but I can’t piss over her shit, much less shit over it and have them mix. It would be terrible if mine came out lighter or darker than hers — you could tell whose they were. Even worse if they were the same. Couldn’t tell all mixing and twisting, diluted in the water. I’ll just have to wait till they flush the toilet tomorrow and get up before her.

Marie is talking to someone outside. He must be in the tree near our window. During the day I could just see a naked twig dancing against our bars but I’m sure it’s connected to a tree. All I can hear is Marie and the wind but I’m probably too far from the window. She’s standing right under it shouting to him. “What you say? Eh?…Eh?…Oh sure! I’m swell! — you tell the fellas I’m fine! Eh?…Why sure I’ll be out soon….How’re you Joe? Wife O.K.? Ha ha!..Yeah Joe I know how it is! Well, you just hang tight till I get out of here and I’ll make it up to you! Yeah! O.K….Eh? What? Oh yeah goodbye Joe.”

Her shoulders slump and she attacks the bugs again smiling vaguely.

Time moves around me like water. I feel so busy. I would hate to be interrupted. Marie is talking to her sister in Wichita by means of her sweater collar — that has to be listened to. Then there are chants and the bladder to think about. And the cold.

It’s very late. The voices in the next room died long ago. The new girl comes in. She is very beautiful. She is thin and wears a red coat. She doesn’t take her coat off but perches on the edge of the bunk with her legs crossed smoking nervously. The cigarettes are very pale between her dark fingers. Her lips are as soft and as purple as plums in her black face.

When Marie and I want to lie down there’s no room for her. She doesn’t want to lie down anyway. She walks about the room smoking until I sleep.

When the water rushes into my dreams again and wakes me she is gone. I climb over Marie carefully so as not to wake her and go to the toilet. I lift my skirt quickly and crouch to let the water escape. With my skirt up I can see the thigh-links for the first time since they moved off the uniform’s belt. They are still shiny and un-rusted but my thighs are red where they touch and very sore. With my legs so close together the hot water sprays uncontrollably and makes a lot of noise. I press down hard inside myself trying to hurry before something happens. I would like to shit too but I’m afraid there’s not time before Marie wakes up and breakfast comes. Besides, I’d be ashamed to have her see it here and shit over it. I’d hate to know that it was here in the water. So I get up and pull down my skirt. There is no toilet paper. It’s uncomfortable to sit down when your bowels are heavy. No one has ever seen Sister Blendina on the pot.

Lunch has come and we are eating macaroni and cheese with our plastic forks. The doors rattle and the old man comes in. He looks at me. “Do you have a coat Miss?” No, I left it with my peanut butter and banana sandwich when I went to cash the check.

“That’s too bad. Well, you’re being moved to Kansas City. You’ve been arraigned by the Grand Jury. Will you come with me?”

The Grand Jury. And I didn’t even know. I get up and look at Marie.

Your name isn’t really Marie, it’s Sophie! and there aren’t any Schwinn bugs. I can tell that even without my glasses, and what’s more there wasn’t any Joe outside the window and you don’t really have a transistorized telephone in your sweater collar! I’m breathing very quickly. She looks at me with vague interest and goes back to her macaroni. A smudge on the front of her white sweater shows where she clutched the soles of my boots in her sleep. I turn smiling to the old man but he looks away and opens the door for me.

The car is warm and the seat soft. The old man is driving and I am sitting beside him. In the back seat is a Negro man who didn’t support his children. He will be spending a year in jail. Next to him is another uniform. We leave Independence on small streets and through alleys so I don’t get another look at the merry-go-round. Without my glasses the countryside is meaningless but I feel very jolly and friendly and even manage to hold most of Dogsbody without sitting on her.