Miriam Toews - Irma Voth

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.

What’s this?

Mexico City? I said. I smiled and looked away.

And this? He touched my eyebrow.

Juárez, I said.

You’re beautiful, he said.

I like the way you walk, I said.

I like the way you moan, he said.

After all that, Wilson asked me if there was something I wanted to tell him, anything at all, because he would keep it a secret for me.