Mai at the Predators' Ball (9 page)

eternity
, my dear friend the old fellow said, still skeptical and in possession of his youthful gifts, this eternity of yours doesn’t exist, what on earth are you talking about Esther, that’s just something the priests made up and you know how I dislike them, I never complain about dreams that have a whiff of pleasure about them, maybe even lasciviousness, so much the better he said, holding her arm which seemed to be detaching itself from his, you really must relax my dear, and Franz hummed a piece from one of his symphonies, which he would soon conduct, but Mère, listening tiredly beside him, wondered what she was doing here in Daniel and Mélanie’s garden on this man’s arm, come now Franz was saying, here they come, it must be time for a drink by the pool, happy hour, but it seemed to Mère the light was fading too fast, no longer knowing if it was still day or early night, and once again the smell of acacia and mimosa did her so much good. When Yinn stepped down off the stage, bucket in hand but asking for nothing and surrounded by a crowd of spectators, she appeared not to notice, her faraway gaze meeting Petites Cendres’ then escaping elsewhere, cut off from it all, Petites Cendres remarked that Yinn had so many different faces while staying true to every aspect of himself, like Petites Cendres he could navigate a clandestine otherworld no one knew anything about, not even Jason, and in this way they were closer, Petites Cendres and Yinn, hiding in the toilet the way Petites Cendres did to sniff his forbidden powder, their nostrils flared in the same delight that would jump-start their nerves into the apotheosis of risk and fear, but although Petites Cendres let himself be taken into bar toilets all over town, Yinn never did, no you’d more likely see him there making himself pretty, alone and getting ready for the nighttime, seeming to think and meditate as if in a temple, his face illuminated little by little in all its features for the stoic celebrations, and if he went with anyone it would be Robbie, perhaps to demonstrate some part of the act or a dance step, a better, more seductive move, a tone of voice when he sang, or how to purse his lips if he forgot the words, although solitary, Yinn had so many friends and how could you tell thought Petites Cendres, then there was the handsome jack he called My Captain, one of the night-show dancers as well as a terrific navigator, of course he climbed aboard his boat from time to time, maybe just one of the many who were dazzled by Yinn, another of her subjects, but Petites Cendres didn’t see them together that much without Jason, alone together in the washroom at the cabaret and coming out laughing with My Captain’s arm on Yinn’s shoulder, more like casual acquaintances or buddies, ah it was all too much for a jealous man like Petites Cendres, and if My Captain, so very seductive out on the water, nested among the coiled ropes, such a good swimmer too when he dived into the middle of the ocean, yes if My Captain was the provider or if it was Yinn in secret, these gorgeous young men that Jason’s intense stare never managed to catch at it, no, so frank and open himself, Jason never made it through the veil of clandestinity to the inner hell that was in Yinn’s nature though not his own, its turbulence and slippery slopes were nothing to him, thus the one he loved was immune to them, he, in his scanty vests, never even considered them, Jason climbed the wooden stairway to the cabaret, tattoos shining on his rounded arms and bestowing on all a wave, a bright smile, and a direct gaze that would last all evening and all night, then again he began climbing, only this time it was the wooden ladder fixed to the cabaret ceiling, and inside a gable above the stage he set about his lighting, he it was that combined purples and mauves, a bit like the velvet curtains that hid the backstage area, ready to open any and all horizons for Yinn, this was the job he carried out so meticulously, a model of serene adoration, no thought Petites Cendres, Jason could never have perceived the dark and unfathomable designs Yinn and My Captain had on one another but Petites Cendres could, the sly understanding between them, in the toilet and out, oh yes no one knew better than he the power of the white powder to draw people in, as Robbie said nope I don’t touch the stuff just then Petites Cendres sensed the presence of Timo’s ghost, Timo whom he’d left to his fate, all these little cocaine peddlers left in a helicopter Robbie surmised, and they never come back, did you ever think about them Petites Cendres, all the way from British Columbia in the cold wearing their winter parkas, the glacial froth of their breath in the frigid air before the departure into one of February’s nights, then in darkness throughout the flight, nothing but blackness all around as they carried a package of Mexican cocaine to Los Angeles, what fevered excitement in those moments of taking off when the entire cockpit trembles and the smells of fuel and oil fill the lungs, was this one going to be their very last, now the helicopter taking off in the snow amid smells of pine and cold, when you’re twenty this sort of thing sets your heart to beating wildly for one last race, three years they’ve been smuggling or maybe two, and why not one more, fooling them at the border crossings, as much cheaters, frauds, and liars proclaiming themselves innocent as ever, so why not one more try at straddling the bounds of innocence, adventure, and conquest, but this night clouds were piling up over the Selkirk Mountains, a peak they knew very well, over how many rivers and bridges had they cycled on their legendary sport bikes then suddenly switched routes right there in the February night, total, unbridled risk, this time no one would recognize them like in the videos of the bridge exploits, no tonight snow and fog blanketed the sky, and they sent a text message that they would be there tomorrow and tonight I’m working but I’ll be there tomorrow, or so they thought, but in fact they wouldn’t be at their destination, and their bodies would be found in the snow a few days later, adventure, that’s what it was about, adventure as they say, merchants, providers of no great means, Robbie thought about them and said to himself he’d never touch the stuff again, no more coke, although this seemed pretty late as conversions go thought Petites Cendres, he could remember sniffing it for hours with Fatalité only a few nights ago, well I mean I was just along to keep him company Robbie protested, Fatalité my brother could see damn well what was coming for him, poor babe, I kept on saying over and over I’m here with you Fatalité, whether it was some morbid excitement or fever and a bunch of sleepless nights I don’t know, maybe I was fighting off sleep or maybe I was daydreaming, anyway I felt my body rip open like an envelope and out I came and danced all over it, but what scared me was the thought that I might not get back inside if my body forgot me or fell asleep or cooled off, I mean I liked the performance I was putting on but there was nothing real about my feet or legs, and I thought I’ve got to get back inside that thing of mine right away which seemed to have fallen asleep, refrigerating itself without a single memory of me, so I quickly got back in the envelope, every muscle and bone, still terrified that open space and the night would seize hold of me forever, and that’s when I said nope, never again, no more coke ever, of course I didn’t say a word of this to Fatalité, and who knows maybe she too was already gone from us, after all her earthly envelope was long gone too, remember how he was always so cold, like the chute-less pilot in the Selkirk Mountains in one last dash through the lightning, so I said to myself no Robbie, no more, not with Fatalité, not with Daddy, no way Robbie, then Petites Cendres, smelling Yinn on him — the night and the jasmine that perfumed the town, the red of her lips imitating frangipani that splashed their colour on the sidewalks and wooden houses — impudently blurted out oh yeah and what about Yinn and you, that special thing you have going, is that just professional, so tell me Robbie what are you up to late at night in the washroom eh, Yinn just helps me get dressed, that’s all, those short summer dresses, Yinn keeps an eye on everything, the least pink thread hanging down your thighs, just like his mother he wants everything perfect you know, refined, and with those words Robbie buoyed Petites Cendres and removed all doubt, though maybe doubt would have been a good thing if in the depraved shadows of Petites Cendres’ own excesses he could catch Yinn out with a secret partner, a partnership sealed in secret debauch that Petites Cendres could use to hold him hostage, kept only for his own private dreams, Robbie had pitiless words for Petites Cendres, reminding him how he had been put down at the bar by Yinn and Luis too, the kid who stole meds from his father’s office, and how he’d put down another young black prostitute who sold drugs in the street, this one not yet twenty though and wearing black shorts with a white top and bloodshot eyes, out there right now waiting for a client to give him cigarettes and then light them, just like Petites Cendres at that age, how could Yinn manage to be so hard when he gave no sign of judging Petites Cendres, so much like this kid, look he’s not an adult yet said Robbie, how do you know said Yinn, how do you know, without harshness he simply said to her better not hang out here, go home, just go home, he looked at him with sadness and said better if you don’t come back here girl, but how could you tell what he was feeling said Robbie, it just got worse when she said she had no family, no home, no job, so what’re you going to do, he shrugged and disappeared to answer Jason’s call from the stairs, are you coming, we have to filter these lights, what do you think Yinn, yeah, yeah I’m coming Yinn answered, someone was always asking for him, waiting for him, a few feet away in the street a hooker was begging cigarettes from two male tourists she’d leave with, but Yinn, already on the staircase with Jason, didn’t see any of this, he would have been furious said Robbie, but if there’s nothing you can do there’s nothing you can do, what about you Petites Cendres Robbie suddenly shot back, where do you wind up at night, where do you go to sleep at dawn after the show’s over, oh on the red sofa under the bar sometimes he replied with feigned detachment, if Jason lets me, or else the hotel with a customer from the sauna at the Porte du Baiser, that’s not a life Robbie would say, you need a man, a real husband, but Petites Cendres he could never get attached to just one person, all the men who picked him up were so nasty or ugly he couldn’t stand them, that’s what Petites Cendres would say, nope, no one, and anyway the husbands of younger prostitutes often fought with them, Petites Cendres didn’t like fights either, either that or he’s been mistreated, of course he’d undergone a lot of that without ever doing it himself or even consenting to it, what you want is a husband like my Daddy said Robbie, I had my own apartment and God knows how many credit cards and now look at me, no Daddy, no nothing to pay for Fatalité’s funeral, just my salary, and Yinn won’t even give me that when I’m back on the powder, oh sure she pays it all up to date when I’m straight again, as he listened to Robbie Petites Cendres gradually became convinced that Yinn belonged neither to his hell nor his vulnerability to addiction, removing him still further from the one he loved, Yinn continued his enigmatic rise just as Petites Cendres sank lower and lower to the inevitable darkness that would one day swallow him completely just as it had Fatalité, Petites Cendres never telling Robbie of the hope that kept him awake till dawn on the red velvet sofa in the bar, through his magnificent nails which were his special vanity he observed Yinn suddenly resembling some weary lady drinking with the bedraggled denizens of the night, a pink drink with ice and a straw, while Jason replaced his ladder so it wedged tight against the ceiling and turned off the spotlights one by one, and Yinn getting ready to leave with him but readily engaging in the camaraderie of the others in the phosphorescent glow of the set, her lips still red and barely brushing against the drink she would never finish, what exactly was that weary voluptuousness that lit up her face wondered Petites Cendres, the pleasure of singing and dancing till she dropped perhaps, or anticipation of the pleasure she would have with Jason, perhaps some languid unwinding that would not last, her dress pleated at the throat, black hair spilling over her shoulders as she brought the cigarette to her lips, Yinn was suddenly a woman, a lover tormented by adulterous love, an indolent and fading Eurasian princess and the object of Petites Cendres’ love, of course she realized none of this, the colour of her eyes becoming that of the smoky room, oh this was no time for Jason to come up to him and say shouldn’t you be getting on home Petites Cendres, we’ll see each other again tomorrow, oh how long, right up till dawn and beyond, the full sunlight of day on the front of the bar outside and Petites Cendres felt nothing but bursts of ecstasy, if only they would leave him these moments of idleness when he could make a fan with his fingers and nails and contemplate the goddess of obscurest temples, his, his own prince, Jason’s that is, languidly withering behind her cigarette smoke, then suddenly by Yinn’s side appeared an Asian boy with a brush cut and a very short pair of briefs in blues and yellows, with a slight movement of the upper body Yinn bowed to him as he did to his own mother, a ritual that came from deep within, here is the Next One declared Yinn with irony, see all of you, with talent, merit, and inspiration he is going to take my place here one day, this is the generation I’m grooming to take up our craft all across the country, Petites Cendres was astonished to hear Yinn speak so lucidly at the drop of a hat, not even drunk after the nouba of that night, ours is a noble craft after all, and you the Next One, don’t you feel proud, you say you have a role as a transvestite actor, and I know just how to dress you o prince of the Orient, but what have you been up to all night to be undressed like that, dancing said the boy, I have no choice, act by day and dance by night, even so I’m not making it these days, Petites Cendres was sure Yinn knew perfectly well the awkward clay he was to start modelling in this one, out of this clumsy boy he’d draw the most exquisitely feminine lines, always to be lightened and perfected, one day this
hair the Next One didn’t know quite what to do with, head bowed into his blonde locks like an angular doll, another he’d be lost inside one of Yinn’s evening gowns, floating adrift on the cabaret stage, where Yinn’s shoulders were too wide, his were too narrow, the folds of the dress rolling back over his tiny frame, but Yinn was guided by his vision alone and would listen to no one else, and one day they’d all be confounded when perhaps the Next One became the magnificent creature born of Yinn and his flair, at this Petites Cendres was inconsolable, for Yinn announced to everyone at the bar that one day, who knows when, he would no longer be among them, like Jesus saying farewell to his disciples, everyone around him was having fun of course and paying no attention to what he said, so what was he leading up to, was he expecting to be so different in his multiple careers that he would have to be far away from those he loved the most, or was he just being provocative to make Jason desire him still more, to make My Captain run to kiss her with his arm on her shoulder, how on earth could Petites Cendres, still stretched out on his sofa, be deprived of this passing embrace between Yinn and My Captain, as though rocking on the deck of his sailboat, nights of flowing champagne without wind, what did Yinn say to that boy wondered Petites Cendres, you Next One will be my progeny, my race and posterity, yes you, gawky and clumsy, gracelessly androgynous for now, will become irresistible, hard to believe as that may be, Petites Cendres turned toward Jason who was enthusiastically skipping steps down the wooden stairway to turn off the TV monitors and chimney-sweep out the leavings of night to make way for the raw light of day, then his round arms gently encircled Yinn, what a day and what a night, time for sleep sweetheart he said, brushing her neck with his lips, with eyes for her and her alone and breathing only her sweet perfumes while Petites Cendres, stretched out on the red sofa for the night, was forgotten, this was the upside of being on the wrong end of a sublime and unrequited passion he thought, often, spending the night here waiting for day, before they put out the lights no one even noticed him folded into the shadows of the alcove, stretching out his legs, not Herman of the sharpened oratorical skills, master of ceremonies for the evening in his knee-length dress and beige boots, now oh so virile as he climbed onto his motorcycle in jeans, curls flying in the wind with classical Greek majesty, always hidden under outrageous wigs until now, either at night or out on the sidewalk in front of the bar haranguing passersby that the show was starting in five minutes, and why are you just walking around aimlessly instead of stepping inside and giving us a hand, oh well that’s your loss, our bar’s got the best send-ups around, okay so just a smidge vulgar I’ll grant you, but under it all you get the point, what kind of world are you living in that you can pretend we don’t exist, and hey if vulgarity’s what it takes to get to you, that’s just what we’ll do and with a laugh too, you and your sad phobias, come have a laugh with us at your own expense, and this is what worried Yinn a bit, that Herman, after his years as an actor in New York, might be just a little over the top in his street touting, maybe not quite wary enough about his rage at society’s tut-tutting on this island which already made a splashy enough setting and where it might easily and suddenly attract violence, okay so I don’t have as much class as you he’d reply, some nights not a soul would even notice Petites Cendres, not Herman or Andrés, who’d once had a troupe of his own in Brazil and who sometimes filled in for Yinn’s mother on weekends, closing up the ticket counter, Andrés of such exceptional elegance in costumes that changed every single night, quick to anger like Herman, as Robbie said these men who’ve struggled to liberate us all with such courage and suffering, well you could understand how they felt downtrodden and oversensitive like Andrés, for Herman though it was different, this was a rebel who was disgusted with the world we live in and refused to consider anyone on earth as undesirable, he had his work cut out for him didn’t he, so Yinn was constantly afraid Herman would be attacked in the street one night or when he crossed town in his boots and those crazy wigs to advertise the show, standing upright on the back of his multicoloured motorized tricycle like some racing jockey, he might overdo the harangues, yelling and daring the crowd up and down every street where he could find them champing at the bit, and not giving a damn about their hatred or contempt for what we are, Yinn said don’t overdo it in those redneck parts of town, but sacrilegious Herman the outsider wasn’t having any of it, so Yinn said look I’m afraid for you Herman, but Herman just got angry: you know what, Yinn, I’ve had just about enough of your nobility and your patience, humanity is dead of gutlessness and I’m going to revive it, how about that eh, so let me alone okay, aren’t you bummed out about how few customers we get on weeknights, and if I want to be out in the street for hours with this bottle of water, I mean eventually it comes down to drinking that and nothing else, that’s for me to decide, especially if I don’t want to go crazy and explode with anger, so leave me alone Yinn, what the hell does my life matter to you anyway, actually your life means everything to me, just like Cobra’s or Geisha’s, all of you girls, your lives mean everything to me was Yinn’s reply though she bristled in her own pique and tossed her little black evening purse onto the floor, when oh when are you going to listen to me Herman, don’t you realize that very same stinking humanity you’re telling me about, you know it’s everywhere in everyone you meet, that you’re putting your life in danger, they’d often had collisions like this without actually fighting, I don’t want to upset you Yinn, you’re like a mother and we’re your little chicks, in fact I’ve never known a girl as maternal as you even though you’re a guy, you’re a samurai momma, still I really think your life’s more dangerous than mine is, ’cause your provocation’s a subtler kind and the vengeance might eventually be more treacherous, I’m more afraid for you than you are for me Yinn, and so it went on, always quarrelling though they loved one another, that’s how Robbie put it to Petites Cendres while Andrés was having a set-to with his lovers over at the ticket counter, if they acted up he had no hesitation in throwing their stuff out into the street, of course he took them back in again next day, often after Yinn’s mother accused him of being intolerant, look they’re much younger than you, Andrés, why not just forgive them, that’s what I do with my son, pardon everything, I even accept his husband though he never helps me around the house, too bad for me they’re married she lamented, married you understand, and Andrés, in a Persian tunic and wearing a black ribbon round his head, listened to Yinn’s mother that night, yes I have to admit I’m intolerant he said, but if you knew how much it costs me to have those kids living with me when I’d really rather be rereading all my books in solitude, I mean what’s the point in being cultivated if you’ve got that bunch overrunning the place, but don’t you see that’s exactly what they want from you said Yinn’s mom, they want you to educate them, teach them about yourself, your travels, the troupe you worked with once, standing lost in thought counting the night’s receipts at the counter, Andrés changed his mind, he was last to leave the bar and didn’t even notice Petites Cendres on the red sofa and asleep by now as if in the arms of Yinn, so close to that impenetrable heart and soul and still surrounded by the damp smell of smoke from Yinn’s cigarette that found its way to his nostrils. In his new choreography, as Samuel wrote to Mélanie, this one to be called