Rawi Hage - Carnival

I am Fly.

My friends also call me Limo.

Nemo? I asked.

No, Limo, as in liminal, in between. But oh, Fly, what a horrible evening that was.

Tell me what happened in there, and why you seem so upset, I said, as I started to drive.

Oh well. . why not, since you are a friend of Mani’s. I guess I can talk to you. Okay. I received a call for a performance. They said it was in an Italian restaurant. I asked them how they got my number and they said it was through the friend of a friend. Usually I prefer to stick to my show at the Piccadilly. I perform there three times a week with other trannies, transvestites to you, from all over the world. We have a fantastic show, it’s a first-class cabaret. We have the twins who do their double act, and then the muscle boy comes and lifts the two girls up into the air at the same time, with their skirts blowing up and all. I do three songs, a monologue, and the finale, in a long blue dress and feathers. Anyway, when I received the call, I refused at first, but then they offered good money so I said okay, one private party. The restaurant seemed like a high-class place.

So I arrived and was led to a back room. There were five very handsome men, wearing expensive Italian suits. They welcomed me and offered me drinks and spoke to me nicely. They asked me if it was really true that I was a man, because I looked like a beautiful woman and so on. The usual. They offered me drinks. And then the waiter rushed in and said the birthday boy had arrived. They dimmed the lights and as soon as he stepped into the room they all shouted Surprise! and the waiter put the music on and I went towards the birthday boy dancing and singing “Happy Birthday.” I was dressed as Marilyn Monroe. All the boys were whistling and cheering. Then the birthday boy squeezed me and started to kiss me. . and it got very rowdy. . they all started to scream and throw their drinks on the floor and take off their jackets and swing them over their heads. I danced with him for a while and then one of the other boys, while we were dancing, came over and said to him, Hey, Frank, grab it. . and before I had the chance to pull back, this Frank had stuck his hand under my dress and grabbed me down there. Then he quickly let go as if he had touched the devil himself, and started to curse, and he pushed me away. I tripped and fell on the floor, on my back. . with my high heels. . you can picture it, I’m sure. All his friends started to laugh. I felt so humiliated. Here I was on the floor, soaking in drinks and dirt, and I was afraid to cut myself on all the broken glass around me. Then the birthday guy went crazy, he was insulted. He came at me and kicked me and tried to stomp on my head. . if it wasn’t for his friends pulling him back. . And then, listen to this, Fly, then this monster reached inside his jacket and pulled out a gun. He was going to shoot me. I was so afraid. But his friends stood in front of him and tried to calm him down, saying, Frankie, Frankie, take it easy, it was just a joke. I was on the floor shaking and crying, thinking, I am not a joke, I am not a joke! Then one of the men gave me his hand and pulled me off the floor and apologized. He pulled out a big stack of money and handed it to me. He called the waiter and the waiter escorted me to the bathroom to wash, and that is when I called Mani. I was crying, but his tire. .

Anyway, I’m glad he sent you. Before I left, I told the man who paid me that I am a respected artist and not a joke. And that next time he shouldn’t treat people as jokes, because we are all human beings, that’s what I said to him. There is still beer and whisky all over my clothes and I smell like cigars, it’s disgusting. I am still shaking. I should have known from their big gold rings, but you know, I am glad Mani didn’t come, because if he saw me like this. . he is short-tempered and those guys could really hurt him. I know the type; they are criminals, they own many of those high-class restaurants. Money laundering, that’s what those places are for. Which reminds me, I definitely have to send my dress to the cleaners, I have a show the day after tomorrow. Long live the Piccadilly! Here, we’ve arrived. How much do I owe you, Fly?

Nothing, I said. It is on the house.

Take something. Please, those monsters paid me a lot of money tonight. Here, take it and call it a night. . take it and turn off your light and go home and sleep. Here, Larry said, and pushed two large bills into my hand.

Thank you. . and good night, I said.

Good night, Limo said, and she left.

STEEL

THE NIGHT AFTER my adventure with the no-name once-famous writer, I went to the Bolero. I arrived, secured a table, lifted a tray, and went up to the counter to order food. The Greek owner was in the kitchen. I could see his stained white apron and I imagined he was sweating under the blue and white scarf he always wears tightly around his neck. Light blue and white, like the rest of this place. It is said that, after consultation with the oracles, the owner planted a ceremonial Greek flag and some postcards next to the cash register so that Hellenic supremacy could reign over the Latin name, Bolero, which he had retained for pragmatic reasons.

The owner’s wife always looks tired, bitter, and dissatisfied, her glasses about to sink down her ancient Hittite nose. It is the daughter, that little goddess who appears and disappears from behind the brume of food offerings, who saves us all from starvation. Her long, curly hair constantly hovers over the stainless-steel warming trays. Not once since she began her work here, has she ever dipped her hair into the food. Her hair is measured and trimmed with admirable precision, but I am sure no driver would mind that salty addition of flavour, that extra Homeric tang, that divine transgression. Besides, I’ve heard that a mixture of yogurt and olive oil brings a shine to one’s hair.

Soon enough, two spiders came to join me at the table. They set their trays across from mine and we formed a trinity. I wanted to make an observation about the number three and its fundamental role in Hellenic culture, but Number 76, whom I wavered between calling the Spider of Interruption or the Spider of Destruction (I settled on the Samson Spider in the end), was agitated and had already started telling us about his encounter with two rich boys.

The other day, he said, I picked up these two brats. Right away, they started acting funny in the back seat. When they asked me how the night was going, I told them I’d just started and they were my first customers. I’d done about ten hours of work by then, but the moment you tell them that, those bandits start to imagine the piles of money you’re carrying. But one of the kids said to me, I bet you have it under the seat. I said, Have what?

You know, the money.

And what is it to you?

It is everything, motherfucker, the kid said.

I looked in the mirror and didn’t see a weapon. Two little fuckers dressed in expensive clothing, trying to scare me, I thought.

You motherfuckers better hold on tight, I said, because you’ve got the craziest driver in town. You think I give a fuck about this, you little assholes?

And I stepped on it. I was doing one-eighty or two hundred on the highway, the car was shaking! To freak them out I started to sing opera and conduct an imaginary orchestra. I am Samson! I shouted. Let this temple fall on me and my enemies, o Lord, for my hair has grown back! I have no fear and my people have risen. . or some shit like that. Then I started to invent songs about the Lord and the second coming and I said to them, Get on your knees, because soon the temple will be restored and we shall all be saved. . Hallelujah!

One of them pissed in his pants, and the other started to beg. The kid confessed they were only playing and trying to scare me. They were not planning to rob me, they were from a rich family and they’d give me money if I would just stop the car. . The next thing I knew, there was a policeman chasing me with his lights and sirens. I pulled over and they slapped me with a big fine and a warning.