Entwined (9 page)

Ruda's nails dug into her own arms. She was pushing shut her own memories with every inch of willpower she possessed. She forced herself to move closer to him. "Stop it, Tommy, I won't hear. I won't listen to you."

"Yes, you will," he snapped. "You will listen, because I want you to know, you more than anyone else. I want you to know."

She wanted to slap him, but she forced herself to contain her mounting, blinding anger. "I know, you've told me all this before, and we made a promise…"

He was like a child, his red-socked feet kicking at the bedspread. "Well fuck you! I won't keep the promise—I want you to know!"

He clenched his hands, punching the bed. "I was dragged away from Mama, and still she screamed, first for Eva and then for me, but no one took any notice, everyone was crying and shouting, but I heard her clearly call out to me…'Wait for me at the station, I'll be at the station.' "

Ruda snatched one of the pillows and held it over his face. "Stop it! I know this, I don't want to hear any more!"

She pressed the pillow down hard on his face, and he made no attempt to fend her off or push the pillow aside. After a moment she withdrew it and looked down at his face. His beautiful, haunted, pain-wracked eyes looked up at her.

"No more, Tommy. Please…"

He nodded, and turned away, his cheek still red from the pressure of the pillow. "Oh, Ruda…she never said which station. She never said which station."

Ruda lay beside him, not touching, simply at his side. He was calmer now, and she heard him sigh, once, twice.

"You know, Ruda, no matter how many years have passed, how long ago it was, I still hear her calling me. Every station, in every town I have ever been to, there is a moment…it comes and goes so fast, but no matter where I am, here or in America, in Europe, whatever station, I say to myself: 'Which station, Mama, where did you wait for me? Did Eva find you? Why didn't you tell me which station?' It's strange, I know they're dead, long, long ago, but there is this hope that some day, some time I'll be at a station and my mama will be there, with Eva. Walking the streets, at every corner I think maybe, just maybe I'll see Eva. I never give up hope, I never give up."

Ruda whispered she was sorry, and he turned to face her.

"Is it the same for you?"

He searched her eyes, wanting and needing confirmation that he was not alone in his pitiful hope. The amber light in her cruel eyes startled him. With a bitter half-smile she said: "It is not the same for me. It never was."

With some satisfaction she felt the chains, the locks tighten on her secrets. Kellerman leaned up on his elbow, touching her cheek with his index finger.

"I'll tell you something else my mama said. She said never tell a secret to anyone, a secret is a secret, and if you tell it, it is no longer a secret. You are the only person I have ever told what they made me do, and what I have done since. I mean, I admit I have stolen, I am a thief, I know I did wrong. I stole from the circus, from my people, but they are not me, they don't know who I am."

Ruda sat up, took a sneaking glance at his alarm clock. It was almost ten-thirty, she knew she had to discuss the money, and the fact that she didn't have it.

"I'm not blackmailing you, Ruda. All I want is my fair share."

It was as if he had read her mind. He rubbed the small of her back. "You don't hate me, do you? You know I've no one else but you."

His touch made her cringe inside. He rested his hands on her shoulders and stood up behind her, planting a wet kiss on the nape of her neck.

"If you do that again, I'll throw you off the bed!" She pushed him away. "Get off me!"

Kellerman began to jump up and down as if the bed were a trampoline. "Oh you liked it once. You couldn't get enough of me once!"

He slipped his arms around her neck, she could feel his erect penis pressing into the small of her back.

"Let me have you one last time, please, Ruda, the way you liked it, let me do it!"

Ruda didn't push him away this time. There was no anger in her voice, just revulsion.

"I never liked it. I loathed it so much I used to get physically sick. Now take your hands off me or I'll elbow you in the balls. They are about the only normal-sized thing about you, as I recall—and I will make your voice even higher."

He released his hold, but remained standing behind her. "Did you mean that? Did you mean what you just said?"

She sighed, angry with herself. She had to be nice, she had to be calm. "Oh come on, Tommy, we both know why I married you, so why pretend otherwise. Sit down and have another drink."

"Physically sick, I made you vomit?"

She couldn't stop herself as she snapped back: "Yes, as in puke."

Again, she could have slapped herself; never mind him, why was she getting into this? She could so easily have laughed it off, teased him into a good mood, but it was as if she were caught on a roller coaster, and out came words, her face twisted in a vicious grimace.

"Sick, you made me sick! Have you any idea what it felt like? To have you clasped at my back, shoving your dick up my arse? It was like I had some animal clinging to me. All I did was grit my teeth and pray for you to get it over with. I hated it, hated every second you touched me with those squat square hands, pawing me like a dog, rough hands, hideous rough hands like dog's paws."

Kellerman was stricken. He backed away from her, treading the mattress as if on water. Ruda glared. Her eyes frightened him because he knew what she was going to say next.

"But then you, Tommy, you must really know what it felt like, what it really felt like…because you know, don't you, Tommy?"

His small hands clenched into fists. "You fucking bitch. Whatever I have done, for you to throw that in my face…"

"I warned you to shut up, but no—you kept on and on. I warned you."

Kellerman slithered off the bed, and punched Ruda hard in the groin, then he reached for her bag, shouting at her.

"Give me my money, and get out, I never want to see you again—you whore, you two-faced bitch!"

Ruda snatched her bag back, hugging it tightly to her chest. He made a grab for the handle, and again she stepped back but he had the handle gripped in his hand, and he tugged. Kellerman was very strong and they struggled. Suddenly he released his hold and Ruda fell backward.

"You haven't got it, have you? You lied, you haven't got my money."

Ruda was shaking, she fumbled with the bag, lying. "Yes, I have, but I want our marriage license before you get it."

Kellerman crossed to the wardrobe and opened a drawer, his back to Ruda. He delved around, and then threw the envelope at her.

"Take it—and you owe me more than one hundred thousand. I saved your skin, I gave you a life, you bitch. If it wasn't for me you'd still be on the streets, you'd still be a whore, a cheap disease-riddled whore…taking it up the arse like a dog."

She spat at him, and he spat back, then kicked out at her again. "Whore!"

She swung the bag and it hit him in the face, he dived away from her and picked up the chair. "Come on, lion tamer, try me, try and tame me,
come on
."

Kellerman pushed at her with the chair, she thrust it away, and he crashed it against her thigh. She stumbled against a coffee table, tripped and fell backward. He came at her, the chair above his head. "You can't fight me, Ruda, I'll fucking beat the living daylights out of you!"

She rolled to one side as the chair crashed down onto the table. The heavy green ashtray slid to the floor. Ruda grabbed it, and as Kellerman came forward to hit her again, she held one chair leg with her left hand, and with her right hit him with the ashtray.

Kellerman seemed stunned for a moment. He touched his temple, saw the blood on his hand. "You asked for it now!"

He started to shriek, jumping up and down like a chimpanzee, then threw the chair aside and grabbed the bedspread, a bright red candlewick bedspread, holding it up and out in front of him like a matador. "Come on…come on, Ruda. Try, try and hit me!"

Ruda lunged at him, and he dodged aside, laughing, tossing the bedspread this way and that. The red blurred, like a red-hot fire in her brain. "Stop it, Tommy…
just stop it
!"

"Ohhhhhhhhhh, you never used to say that to me, you used to say, 'More, more, I love it.' That's what you used to say.
You loved it from the dog in heat…come on, bitch!
"

The swirling bedspread swished this way and that, and the next minute she was on top of him, throwing the bedspread over his head, and the heavy ashtray came down, again and again. The bedspread swamped him, he struggled frantically. She heard him laughing, shrieking that she had missed him and it drove her into a frenzy. Ruda hit him, over and over again. She could feel his head—at one point she held it firmly in her left hand, pressing it down as she struck him. She could feel the blows finding his face, again and again.

She didn't know how many times she had struck him, but at last he was still and she sat back on her heels.

"Tommy?…
Tommy
? Get up!"

He lay still, and she pulled at the coverlet, and drew it away from his head. His face was a mass of blood, bloody bubbles frothed at his mouth and nose. She pulled herself away from him.

"Oh God…Tommy, get up!…
Get up
!"

He was motionless, his body swathed in the coverlet. She felt for his pulse, could find no heartbeat. She backed away, terrified, and sat leaning against the wall, her legs stretched out in front of her. She could feel every muscle tensing, then giving way as she slithered down the wall to sit like a rag doll.

"Oh God, now what do I do…tell me what to do?"

The television screen flickered, and she crawled over and turned up the volume, afraid someone could hear. Slowly, she began to think logically, and to calm down.

"Get out fast, save yourself, Ruda…get out, be careful, no one must know you came here. You never came here…"

Ruda picked up the envelope and looked for the marriage license. She then took all his papers and stuffed them into her bag. His passport, his diary, his address book. She dragged him by his feet to the side of the bed, then attempted to lift him, and it was then that the terrible realization dawned. Cradled in her arms was the only link to her past. Only Kellerman knew, he was the only person she had ever told, and now she had killed him. She sobbed because she remembered what it had meant to be able to tell someone, someone who had shared the same darkness. She hugged him tightly. Hard, dry, tearless sobs shook her body as she recalled how, shortly after they had arrived in the United States, Tommy had tried to purge the past that clung to each of them.

In their small trailer he slammed down two tumblers on the table and opened a bottle of bourbon, hitching himself up onto a chair opposite Ruda. He had filled a glass almost to the rim before he pushed it toward her.

"Right. You and me are gonna get loaded, and we're gonna let the ghosts free, because I think we'll both go crazy if we don't. We got a new life. Now we open and close the old. So, cheers!"

It had been one long, memorable night as they tried to exorcise the terrors that haunted them. The more they had drunk, the more horrors they had whispered. They had cried, they had comforted one another, and they had promised to keep these terrible revelations secret.

Now Ruda rocked him gently. She had broken the pact, she had hurt him more than any living soul could have done. She had thrown back in his face what he had been forced to do in shame. "I'm sorry, Tommy, forgive me…"

His blood stained her face, clung to her hair, but she held him close in a last embrace. Eventually her gentle rocking stopped. Only Tommy knew she had killed before; no one must know she had killed again.

She began to gasp with panic, unable to get her breath. She felt dizzy and filled the glass he had used with water. She gulped it down, her hands shaking uncontrollably.

She saw her reflection in the mirror, the bloodstains, her frightened eyes staring back at her.

"It was different for me, Tommy. For you, every station, every corner. For me, every mirror." She put her hands over her ears as if to block out those words: "
Twins…twins…twins…
"

Ruda shouted, "I know she is alive…
I know, I know!
"

The fury rose up within her, the fury which had kept her alive in the early years, a fury which now gave her the inner strength to survive. With a forced calmness, she began to erase all trace of her presence in the room.

Ruda packed all of Kellerman's belongings in his case; she emptied every drawer, checked the bathroom and collected his shaving equipment. They would find out who he was soon enough, but they would also find out something else. Ruda took Kellerman's toilet bag in her hand and rifled through it, and found the razor. She hurried to his side, rolled up his left sleeve until she found what she was looking for.

The razor slit deep into his arm…She cut a square, and began to slice deep, cutting away the tattoo, but then fell back. As she sliced the artery his blood spurted over her face, her chest. Kellerman was not dead. Her rage went out of control.

She wanted to be sick, could feel the bile rising from her stomach. But she had to stay calm. She picked up the ashtray and hit him again, and again, her teeth clenched as she used all her strength. Then she waited, knew this time he had to be dead, and she carried the heavy marble ashtray into the bathroom, washed it, dried it, left it wrapped in the stained bloody towel, sure it was clean of prints. Then she washed around the sink, the taps. Suddenly she caught sight of her reflection again. Her eyes were crazy, her face white, blood rivulets now running like tears down her face. She backed out of the bathroom, rubbing frantically at her skin.

She had to face Kellerman again. The force of the last blow had made his head jerk sideways. His top set of dentures had fallen out.

As she tried to drag and push his body under the bed, the heel of her boot ground the dentures into the carpet. She was panting now, but she kept on working. She cleaned the room, the door handles, anything she might have touched. Then she found Kellerman's hat, was about to tuck it into his case, but changed her mind. She turned over the blood-soaked rug he had been lying on, tucking the stained area beneath the bed. She then fetched the do not disturb sign and hung it on the door. Carrying Kellerman's belongings in his case, wearing his hat, she slipped down the stairs. There was still no one in reception; she grabbed the book, and tore out the pages with Kellerman's name.