Black Water (9 page)

How courteous, genuinely friendly,
interested in who we were and what we thought of his Senate proposals, the
Medicaid, the welfare reform, yes and he is a visionary, I don't think it is an
exaggeration to say—

How
crucial for us to rehearse the future, in words.

Never to doubt that you will live to
utter them.

Never to doubt that you will tell
your story.

And the accident
too, one day she would transform the accident, the nightmare of being trapped in
a submerged car, the near-drowning, the rescue.
It was horrible—hideous. I was trapped
and the water was
seeping
in and he'd gone for help
and fortunately there was air in the car, we'd had the windows shut tight, the
air conditioner on, yes I know it's a miracle if you believe in miracles.

Acne can occur
at any time not just adolescence!

Extra
cells are produced in the skin pore lining, which blocks the exit of oils
causing oil and bacteria to build up behind the plug. This leads then to
whiteheads and blackheads and in cases of severe acne cyst formations.
Recommended use of BENZOYL PEROXIDE an antibacterial medication and SALICYLIC
ACID to cleanse and clear affected pores. Recommended green-tinted cosmetic
underbase
to neutralize the reddened skin areas then cover
with sheer lightweight foundation and face powder.

NEVER
apply foundation directly to open acne lesion for this can result in infection!

I want him to.
His
eyes, his hands.
His mouth...
Must stop staring.

Her hair, her eyes, her lips... What is
that fragrance?

White spandex swimsuit with tiny pearl
buttons for that lingerie look.
Single
shoulder strap and cut HIGH on the thighs so you will want to be golden tan ALL
OVER.

Daffodil-yellow
cotton mesh tunic to be worn all summer with chiffon, jeans, swimwear: smart,
versatile, and SEXY.

CAUTION:
the sun's ultraviolet rays, saltwater swimming, and overheated blow dryers are
serious dangers to BEAUTIFUL HAIR.

CAUTION:
More than 100,000 American women are infected with the AIDS virus.

CAUTION:
Beware of disreputable modeling schools promising fashion magazine assignments
within twelve months.

CAUTION:
Perfume, hair spray, and mousse that contain alcohol can cause permanent damage
to silk and acetate garments. Spray
before
dressing
or place a towel over shoulders before you spray.

* * *

SCORPIO'S MYSTERY.
Pluto, God of the Underworld, was originally NOT a man but a woman— daughter of
the Earth Mother Rhea. Pluto is but a
masculinized
goddess!
It is believed that with the dawning of the New Age long-suppressed Scorpio
powers will be rediscovered and the Scorpion will evolve to a new level—the
PHOENIX RESURRECTED.

She was not screaming now nor was she
sobbing
knowing that the oxygen in this
darkness must not be depleted but she spoke loudly and clearly her throat raw
I'm here I'm here I'M HERE.

She
was not hysterical. She was not paralyzed with terror.

She
could hear
him...
somewhere above. The surface of the
water was close above. There he moved cautiously in the shallows, he was
diving, swimming to save her where she was trapped in the dark so she must
guide him
I'm here I'm here I'M HERE.

As the black water rose about her, to
fill her lungs.

As
the black water rose about her imperceptibly it seemed to her that draining,
trickling water in thin rivulets like tears on her face, the soft
groping-sucking of hundreds of leeches fastening their mouths on her, no it was
merely water, she was sitting in water, shivering convulsively in water that
smelled of sewage, gasoline, oil, her own urine where she'd soiled herself.
Don't leave me. I'm here.

One
minute speeding along the bouncy rutted road the moon bright overhead and his
kiss hard on her mouth the next minute fighting for their lives and he'd kicked
her convulsive himself in terror to escape but he had not known what he was
doing, it was blind panic, she understood.

She
understood. She had faith.

She
remembered now who he was: The Senator.

She
felt his fingertips on her bare shoulder, his breath that smelled of beer,
alcohol... she was not a bad girl, she would explain behaving, in The Senator's
company, in such a way as to appear to be, or in fact to be, obvious, expected,
banal.

Yet,
after they'd been introduced, after they were talking so easily, discovering so
much to talk about, Carl Spader for instance,
Citizens' Inquiry
for instance, Kelly had changed her mind about the man.

—really warm, gracious.
Genuinely interested in other people.
And
certainly intelligent.

Rehearsing the future, in words.
Your words.
Your story.

For
you must never doubt there will be a future.

And such a sense of humor!

Making
him
laugh, entertaining him... an exhausted middle-aged man
beginning to go soft in the gut, steely-gray curly hair thinning at the crown
of his head, his left knee he'd sprained back in January playing squash so,
damn it, he's easy game for Ray Annick on the court, wild Ray with his lethal
second serve, yes make me laugh entertain me I want so badly to be happy so
Kelly Kelleher was inspired telling the story (which she'd told Buffy long ago
but sweet Buffy pretended to be hearing it for the first time) of the Gowanda
Heights feud, no it was more than a feud it was outright war, property holders
in the township were forced to choose sides and no waffling was permitted:
either you favored the Gowanda Heights "tradition" of un-paved roads
(which were surprisingly costly—a minimum of $40,000 a year on the average per
road above the cost of maintaining paved roads) or you favored "modernization"
and there were stormy emotions on both sides of the issue but especially on the
side of the traditionalists... like Artie Kelleher of Scotch Pine Way, who
believed his property values would decline if his road was paved and who
quarreled so bitterly with an old friend who opposed him at the township
hearings that Kelly's mother feared he might have a heart attack. Friendships
were shattered, neighbors stopped speaking, lawsuits were threatened, at least
one dog was suspected of being poisoned... and all for what,
Kelly
demanded laughing, all for
what:
dirt roads!

The
Senator laughed but well, yes, he supposed he understood, you have to know the
human heart, the cherished trivia of the human heart, there
is
nothing not political as Thomas Mann said no matter how
petty how selfish how ignorant it seems to neutral observers, Kelly was too
young to understand, maybe.

"Young?
I'm not young at all. I don't feel young at all."

The
words sudden and fierce, and her laughter rather fierce, so that the others
looked at her;
he
looked at her.

She
was determined not to say
Senator I wrote my senior honors thesis on you
unless the statement could be supremely casual, amusing.

She
was pulling herself up using the steering
wheel as a lever.

She
was trembling with the effort, whimpering like a small sick frightened child.

Like a child
pleading
Help
me. Don't forget me. I'm
here.

How
many minutes had passed since the car ran off the road, was it fifteen minutes
?—
forty minutes?—she could not gauge for some of this time
she had not been fully conscious waking suddenly in terror as something
snakelike rushed across her face, her neck, soaking her hair, not a snake and
not anything truly alive but a gushing coil of black water as the car which had
been apparently precariously balanced on its side shifted with the pressure of
the current to overturn completely.

Now
trapped in here, not knowing where
here
was, not knowing how far away
he
was, upside down in utter blackness
squirming and panting trying to get free groping for—what?— the steering
wheel—her stiff fingers grasping the broken wheel to use as a lever as
he
had used it as a lever working himself free.

The
steering wheel positioned her at least. She could not see but she could
calculate: how far to the driver's door that would open for her, she was
certain it would, it must, open for
her
as
it had opened for
him,
not wanting to think that perhaps the
door had been flung open partly by the collision with the guardrail and had
subsequently been shut by the force of the current, the rapid churning water
she could not see but feel, hear, smell, sense with every pore of her being:
her enemy, it was: a predator, it was: her Death.

Not
wanting to think.
To acknowledge.

You're not an optimist, you're dead.

She
was telling her mother she was a good girl but her mother seemed not to hear,
speaking quickly, as if embarrassed, her grave gray eyes Kelly had always
thought so lovely fixed on a spot behind Kelly's shoulder, "that sort of
love is just a"—Kelly could not hear but thought it might be
a fever in the blood
—"it doesn't last, it can't last.
Darling, I don't even remember when your father and
I...
the last time... like that... that..."—now
profoundly embarrassed but pressing bravely onward for this was the
conversation they had had, Kelly remembered suddenly, when, aged sixteen, at
that time in her third year at the Bronxville Academy, she had fallen
desperately in love with a boy and they had made love awkwardly and miserably
Kelly for the first time and subsequently the boy avoided her and Kelly had
wanted to die, could not sleep could not eat could not endure she was certain,
like one of her friends at the school who had made in fact a serious suicide
attempt swallowing a full container of barbiturates washed down with a pint of
whiskey and taken by ambulance to the emergency room of Bronxville General
she'd had her stomach pumped out, her frail life saved, and Kelly Kelleher did
not want to die really, crying in Mother's arms she swore she did not want to
die she was a good girl really, she was not a bad girl really, she did not want
to take the birth-control pill like the other girls, and Mother was comforting
her, Mother was there to comfort her, even now though not seeming to hear her
(because of the rushing of the water perhaps, the barrier of the windshield)
yes Mother was there to comfort her.