rose.
“Cotton? Dr. Cotton?”
I clutch the glass in my hand. When Lorena shakes her crystal paperweight the snow
rises so lightly. It flutters softly around and then settles on the roof, the fence,
and the little girl with the red cape. Then she shakes it again. “This way I have
snow all year round.” But why snow all year round? Where is there any snow here? She
thinks snow is the most. She’s sickening. I crunch the ice cube between my teeth.
“Sometimes she sleeps with Donald Duck. She’s always squeezing his tummy, quack, quack.
Sickening.”
I push the piece of ice against the roof of my mouth with my tongue. In reality the
sky is way up there without any pain. Hell starts immediately below with its roots.
So many roots twining around each other. Solidarity.
“He was forever changing the cotton in people’s cavities, weeks, months, years went
by and there he was with the little bits of cotton in his tweezers, that’s why he
got to be called Dr. Cotton.”
“But you have good teeth, hanh? Don’t you, Bunny?”
My beautiful. My innocent love.
“Yes.”
“So your Dr. Cotton was good.”
Oh yes. Oh he was great. He would change the cotton while the hole got bigger and
bigger. I grew up in that chair with my teeth rotting and him waiting for them to
rot completely and meto grow some more so he could do the bridge. A bridge for the mother and another for
the daughter. Bastard. Prick. The two bridges falling down in the order they appeared
on the scene. First Ma’s who went to bed with him first and then. I went walking across the bridge / It shook before my eyes / Sister the water’s made of poison / He who drinks it dies . Who drinks it dies. She used to sing to put me to sleep but in such a hurry that
I would pretend I was asleep so she’d go away faster. In the movies there was always
a mother singing romantically to her children who hugged their stuffed animals. Grandmothers
used to tell them stories too but where my grandmother might be is something I’d like
to know. I wish I had a grandmother like Mother Alix. To have a grandmother like Mother
Alix is to have a kingdom.
“Can nuns be grandmothers, love? Answer me, can they?”
His back is turned toward me, he’s choosing records. How gorgeous he is naked. Shit
he makes me cry from love he’s so beautiful. A sun. I think I first fell in love with
his teeth, his teeth are perfect, there couldn’t be a more perfect mouth. I love you
Max. I love you but in January my sweet. In January a new life. Get my feet out of
the mud. You were rich once now it’s my turn may I? Next year stop . He’s scaly but filthy rich. So.
“This is my body,” he says holding the record up high. He kisses it. “This is my blood.”
“I hate God,” I say turning my face away.
Do I hate God or this music? This music. I hate this music hate it hate it hate it.
Lorena has the same mania. A band of Negroes howling all day long, a hell of a howl.
I hate Negroes. But Dr. Cotton was white. Blue eyes the bastard. That was his nickname
but his real name? Dr. Hachibe said that we expel everything that was terrible and
if that’s the case I’ll never remember his goddamn name. But I remember his nickname.
What good did it do to erase the name if the scratch scratch of the fat she-rats there
in the construction site is still there, day and night scratch scratch in the dark.
“But don’t those fitches let anybody fleep?” yelled Téo who was toothless and pronounced
certain letters with an F sound. But he would sleep. Ma too. She used to sleep real well that one. But I would
lie awake thinking scratch scratch. The waiting room with the black woman, a handkerchief
tied around her swollen face. The little basket of artificial flowers covered with
dust. The black womanand I were the most assiduous patients with our smell of Dr. Lustosa Wax, when it
hurt too much we would take the cotton out and fill
“Cotton? Dr. Cotton?”
I clutch the glass in my hand. When Lorena shakes her crystal paperweight the snow
rises so lightly. It flutters softly around and then settles on the roof, the fence,
and the little girl with the red cape. Then she shakes it again. “This way I have
snow all year round.” But why snow all year round? Where is there any snow here? She
thinks snow is the most. She’s sickening. I crunch the ice cube between my teeth.
“Sometimes she sleeps with Donald Duck. She’s always squeezing his tummy, quack, quack.
Sickening.”
I push the piece of ice against the roof of my mouth with my tongue. In reality the
sky is way up there without any pain. Hell starts immediately below with its roots.
So many roots twining around each other. Solidarity.
“He was forever changing the cotton in people’s cavities, weeks, months, years went
by and there he was with the little bits of cotton in his tweezers, that’s why he
got to be called Dr. Cotton.”
“But you have good teeth, hanh? Don’t you, Bunny?”
My beautiful. My innocent love.
“Yes.”
“So your Dr. Cotton was good.”
Oh yes. Oh he was great. He would change the cotton while the hole got bigger and
bigger. I grew up in that chair with my teeth rotting and him waiting for them to
rot completely and meto grow some more so he could do the bridge. A bridge for the mother and another for
the daughter. Bastard. Prick. The two bridges falling down in the order they appeared
on the scene. First Ma’s who went to bed with him first and then. I went walking across the bridge / It shook before my eyes / Sister the water’s made of poison / He who drinks it dies . Who drinks it dies. She used to sing to put me to sleep but in such a hurry that
I would pretend I was asleep so she’d go away faster. In the movies there was always
a mother singing romantically to her children who hugged their stuffed animals. Grandmothers
used to tell them stories too but where my grandmother might be is something I’d like
to know. I wish I had a grandmother like Mother Alix. To have a grandmother like Mother
Alix is to have a kingdom.
“Can nuns be grandmothers, love? Answer me, can they?”
His back is turned toward me, he’s choosing records. How gorgeous he is naked. Shit
he makes me cry from love he’s so beautiful. A sun. I think I first fell in love with
his teeth, his teeth are perfect, there couldn’t be a more perfect mouth. I love you
Max. I love you but in January my sweet. In January a new life. Get my feet out of
the mud. You were rich once now it’s my turn may I? Next year stop . He’s scaly but filthy rich. So.
“This is my body,” he says holding the record up high. He kisses it. “This is my blood.”
“I hate God,” I say turning my face away.
Do I hate God or this music? This music. I hate this music hate it hate it hate it.
Lorena has the same mania. A band of Negroes howling all day long, a hell of a howl.
I hate Negroes. But Dr. Cotton was white. Blue eyes the bastard. That was his nickname
but his real name? Dr. Hachibe said that we expel everything that was terrible and
if that’s the case I’ll never remember his goddamn name. But I remember his nickname.
What good did it do to erase the name if the scratch scratch of the fat she-rats there
in the construction site is still there, day and night scratch scratch in the dark.
“But don’t those fitches let anybody fleep?” yelled Téo who was toothless and pronounced
certain letters with an F sound. But he would sleep. Ma too. She used to sleep real well that one. But I would
lie awake thinking scratch scratch. The waiting room with the black woman, a handkerchief
tied around her swollen face. The little basket of artificial flowers covered with
dust. The black womanand I were the most assiduous patients with our smell of Dr. Lustosa Wax, when it
hurt too much we would take the cotton out and fill
Similar Books
