William Vollmann - The Royal Family

The next time she saw Sapphire, which was three nights later, under the Stockton tunnel, Beatrice, who after trying and trying to get business late on that streetlit evening, raising her T-shirt, flashing her big round breasts at the stunned drivers in their torpid little cars, had finally made twenty for blowing a fat black businessman, ran out and bought five dollars’ worth of powder, and after taking two snorts for herself (didn’t a girl deserve a commission? Wouldn’t Sapphire tell her go ahead if Sapphire could speak?) gave the rest to Sapphire, who swarmed mewlingly into her arms. Strawberry was back, and the tall man was already cursing and punching her face.

The Queen said to Beatrice: You’re carryin’ some bad blood in your heart. I can smell it.

Seeing that her dear lady with the old, old face was not judging her but merely worrying over and sorrowing over her, Beatrice, who was chewing Mexican candy, felt ashamed and tender all at once. At that moment she would have died for her Queen. How much easier life would be, if such moments endured! Running into the black woman’s arms, she sobbed, her brittle English cracking and breaking as it always did when she was agitated: And Santa Claus didn’t give me nothing for Christmas, but he give me my Mama. You always my Mama. I wanna love you. I wanna be with you. I wanna marry with you. If you ever come Mexicali, you doan never pay your hotel, come my house. I ask my other Mama already and she say okay. And I gonna come running, running to get you and take you home so you can stay with me forever. I’m gonna meet your bus and fuck you all night ’cause you’re my Mama.

Oh, please, said Domino. How can you ask your other Mama anything? She’s dead.

Hush up, Dom. Let the girl be. And you hush up, too, Beatrice. Try an’ enjoy life. When you gonna teach us all those Mexican dances you know? I never been to Mexico; I wanna learn ’em. We could have a party with some music and everything.

Why don’t you ever listen to music, Maj? Domino interrupted eagerly. You can borrow my headphone radio anytime.

Thank you, darlin’. You know that song “Gypsy Queen”? That’s my song.

Angry and jealous, the Mexican girl whispered rapidly in the Queen’s ear: I told my Mama I lose my money, I lose my twenty dollar from my new boyfriend I meet last night, and my Mama doan say nothing but Domino say stupida , you always stupida , Beatrice! and then I cry.

She thrust her half-eaten candy at the Queen. The Queen took a bite, but not a big enough one to please Beatrice, who shouted no, no, no! bit off a big piece, chewed it, then tongued it passionately into the Queen’s mouth.

The summer’s back broken, Tyler drove unsweatily past Q Street but did not turn off to Dan Smooth’s house even though the traffic light winked meaningfully. His mother was not well. Looking right and left, he glimpsed bunkered lights and light dripping out of dingy Victorians. Then he drove on, proceeding an entire block to the Zebra Club, and parked beneath a billboard which proclaimed him and all other creatures LUCKY.

He tried to decide what he was going to say to his mother, who had scarcely addressed him since the last time he’d visited her, when he mentioned the false Irene. Should he tell her that he and that one were quits, and that he’d taken up instead with a crack-addicted ghetto prostitute who practiced black magic? The eyes narrowed in his grey, grey face, and he sat unmoving in his car.

A long train went dully by; he heard the sound. At the shopping malls when the trains passed on the levee, a fence kept you so far away that you couldn’t really hear them. They seemed to glide in silence. But when you lived close enough you could hear that long, slow, heavy sound.

He sat there for half an hour. (Meanwhile Dan Smooth was reading an anarchist quarterly called The Raven which contained an article called “Children Abusing Adults — Rule 43.”) Finally he started the engine again and drove to the supermarket, where he bought his mother groceries.

A shot of tequila? said Loreena.

Yeah.

That sounds good. Fuck it. Only half an hour before closing time. I’ll have one, too.

Cheers, said Tyler.

Cheers. I’ll need some money now, dear.

How much?

I knew you’d do that to me. Let’s see… I’m a little bit fuzzy… Two twenty-five.

Here.

Thank you. You’re always so generous, Henry. Man, that tastes good. I just love that tequilla. That’ll put hair on your chest. Or maybe take it off.

In my own case I can’t remember, so maybe I can see your chest and dope it out.

Now you’re pushing the bucket, mister, said Loreena, but then to his astonishment she lifted up her T-shirt and flashed rosy-nippled, round and perfect breasts.

Thank you, he said. That was good of you.

I learned that trick from Beatrice.

Surprise, surprise.

You know, it’s such a hot night, Loreena said. I figured after I got off work I’d head for Jonell’s and then maybe the Cinnabar, and after that I’d love to go skinnydipping out at Ocean Beach.

Tyler immediately became sad because he wanted to be with the Queen and now he would have to disappoint Loreena. — I’ll be back if I can, he said. I have to go make some money.

Loreena’s ancient face grimaced back down into its habitual mask of weary disgust, and she said: Well, drive carefully, Henry, okay?

And he wondered which would have been the more enlightened act — to go with Loreena and make her happy for an evening, loving her as the Queen loved everybody, or to go to the Queen and literally love her? — I don’t know where I’m going anymore, he muttered.

That was what he did now, night after night. Passing Strawberry up against the wall of the twenty-four-hour carwash with the hollows of her eyes filled with unreadable light and light drooling from her mouth like some customer’s sperm, passing Chocolate who was grinning and clenchfisted as she leaned up against the slimy wall-tiles of the Wonderbar late at night, trying not to shiver and making sure she stared down every car that came, Tyler wandered in through the back door to the red stools and red love seats, the kingdom of the Wonderbar where Domino, waiting to do business with someone whose identity would soon shock Tyler, said to him: Are you married?

Only to my brother’s dead wife, he replied. How’s the Queen today?

You know, said Domino, I don’t exactly have contempt for you; I don’t exactly think you’re a coward…

Well, I’m glad to hear that, said Tyler sarcastically.

Are you laughing at me?

No, sweetheart. I would never laugh at you.

Well, then why do you — oh, fuck it.

Like all the brilliant women he knew who kept crying out that people made no sense and whose dream it was to flee everything and work at a Dairy Queen somewhere in Mississippi, Domino had visions which life would never live up to. Her brightest vision was that everyone would love her. Her life asserted that everyone hated her.

So how’s the Queen? he said.

You have a thing for her, huh? That’s rich. That’s fuckin’ rich. To think that ole Maj herself is finally getting a piece of dick! That sleazy old lowlife Maj — ha, ha! Hey, Henry, how does it feel to be dating a nigger?

Feels okay to me.

And your sister-in-law was a gook, wasn’t she? Smooth told me…

Oh, so you’re dicking Smooth? he said, trying to get off the subject of Irene and the Queen.

No, he’s a honky. I don’t do honkies, since I’m one myself.

My, my, said Tyler. Just who enjoys the honor of being done by you?