Core: A Romance

Equinox

THE MOON SPUN. THE POPLARS BORE TRINKETS OF FRACTURED of stuttering light. The mud sucked his boot heels as he walked through the fen. Though warm, it had rained. It would rain again.

A hundred yards down he reached the dogleg. Music sifted through the branches overhead. He stepped his feet left right sidewise up the spongy bank. Beyond the fen lay the ravished cornfield, harvest come and gone. Was there really a party tonight? Was it a dream, or something else?

Ruckle and hiss of the feathered reeds. Whispers and laughter from the damp dead corn. He looked over his shoulder the poplars their boles sunk down into the fen. He licked his lips. He pushed his way into the stalks toward the music the glow of the bonfire.

The cornfield surrendered to a plowed-under clearing bodies and crackle of voices. The bonfire thrust spears at the dark shapes dancing. He stepped from the wall of cornstalks. He went along the wall toward the crowds gathered before the kegs the meat turned on spits the boiled ears of corn.

The cup of beer was wet in his hand. The leaves of the stalks brushed his arm as he walked along the wall. Past the roadway cut into the field. Past the bonfire. Past more bodies danced and drunk and laughter.

The band played in a nest of cables and amplifiers and speakers on the plywood flatbed of a truck. What would happen when it rained again? Would the guitars toss sparks, spawn fledgling moons, darkness and silence? Would the bonfire hiss or scream? What would happen to him? It was here the arm slipped through the crook of his arm the key into the lock. A dream or something else, he could not look.

I cannot believe I found you here, she said. Surprised to see me?

He raised his cup the beer that stung his throat on the way down. The kind of beer that made his feet cold and wet.

No, he said.

Well if you’re not surprised to see me then you must be happy to she said. Her fingers scratched his chin. I like the goatee it looks so good I almost didn’t recognize you.

She held him close she took the cup of beer from his hand. She raised the cup to her lips. Bracelets slid down her wrist. His fingers brushed her thigh. She wore the cutoffs she’d had on the day she. And the warmth that was. And fragrancy of daffodils. He curled his fingers in his fist.

Where have you been? he said.

Aren’t you even going to tell me how good I look without my glasses? She batted her lashes and smiled. I wear contacts now, she said. This woman I just ran into Gina she said I have the greatest eyebrows and I had to agree I mean things like that get noticed when the face isn’t hidden don’t you think?

The fen was the last thing he remembered, the way the moon sawed through the trees the flashing shovelblades of light the last things.

Where have you been? he said.

She took another drink. She licked foam off her lip she handed him the wet cup. Oh you know here and there, she said. Mostly up in Seattle couch surfing bumming even did a little dancing my god you would not believe how much money can be made for that sort of thing. I mean it was time I left here anyway I was going absolutely nowhere I was going insane. It’s like I feel so much more at peace and freer now.

He drank down the cup of beer. Figures swayed in the dead corn. Shapes shifted to the music, drunk, they tripped around the bonfire. And swing of a hammer, swing of a shovel. Breathless running through the fen, muddy hands clutched to his ears. Slipping on the blackened face that sweats red tears.

You ran away, he said. There’s no peace in that.

SPARKS COUGHED LOGS AND BALES OF STRAW AND BUNDLES of cornstalks tossed onto the bonfire. On the flatbed the band dinked around with sound checks before the last set. Lighters flickered Stars across the clearing. And bodies sagged to the mud. So many beers, such cold wet feet.

She leaned against him her cheek upon his shoulder. He watched the foam dwindle in his cup. Too simple to say anything. All simple took was belly and thigh and sweat of daffodil. All simple took was her foot pressed on his foot. Her breath on his throat. All simple took was. He raised the cup to his mouth.

She said, Y‘knowyou can balance a egg on end at a pacific time during the equi, equinox. You can balance a egg so it stands up all by itself ha ha Sara n’ me you know Sara right? Yeah you do. Me and Sara had her whole counter covered with all these ballast, balanced eggs. Fuck it was so amazing.

He sipped his beer. I thought that was only during the vernal equinox.

Huh?

Springtime, he said. That egg trick won’t work in the fall.

Yes it does. We did it. Serious. Oh fuck man you don’t know a thing, she said and pulled her arm from his arm. Beer slopped out her cup. Damn. Don’t do that don’t give me that look. I know what it means it means you mean you think I’m full a shit you goddamn goateed bastard fuck I really hate that fucking superior attitude you don’t know shit do you.

Okay. So you can balance an egg in the fall. He blinked and laughed. What are we talking about here?

Doesn’t matter anymore I got to piss. Come with me.

He laughed again.

Oh fuck you wait right here then. I just don’t want you to disappear ‘cause you got to dance me at least one dance before this party’s through and we really need to talk so hold this for me okay? She handed him her cup.

I thought we were talking, he said.

Sheturned and Barefoot walked across the mud and joints of stalk and leaf and plastic cup. Her thighs ushered ghosts in the moon the firelight pale phantoms pain and paintings in his head. She dissolved into the ravaged corn. The sky began to rain.

He stood with a cup of beer in each hand. Across the clearing figures hammered poles into the mud around the truck. Crossbars were screwed into the poles. As the tarp dragged over the frame, someone screamed.

Beyond the bonfire cops in helmets rushed across the clearing Sirens and dogs Flashlights guns and shields This is the Police voices yelled the bonfire spat he ducked as rat-toothed pigs ran past swinging swastikas, all was noise and showers of light. Shadows chased and tackled. Arms raised against baton and pepper spray. You are all under arrest. He threw down the cups and backed away, into the corn.

She had not gone far. Her body crumpled between two rows. He kneeled beside her. The mud soaked cold through his knees. Mud in streaks across her thighs. The untoothed stalks barked at bodies crashed and shouted in the rain.

He ran his fingers over her scalp. Back of her neck. Not hit, only dead drunk. He took hold of her shoulders he shook her and her head bounced against the mud. Wake up, we got to get out of here. She groaned but did not open her eyes. As before. As before he sawher naked, sawher beneath him, seated on top of him, he. Was this all a dream or someone else?

Flashlights bobbed all around. He ducked down. He gripped her shoulders he dug his thumbs under her collarbones he shook her. Come on, wake up, he said. Party’s over. Hey, come on, damn it.

Her eyes fluttered she raised a hand to shield her eyes against the rain. What? What?

The fucking cops, he said. He grabbed her wrists he pulled her off her back. He dug his feet into the mud he leaned backward, pulling on her arms. Come on, get up.

Where’s Cameron? she said and her wrists slipped muddy from his hands he spun his arms he fell into the crackling stalks. A voice boomed on a megaphone. A siren whoop whooped. Shovelheads sawblades swung. Mudflungin thick Wet clumps. She belly pressed to he mouth a hammer swung and swung and swung and Snap out of it, he said. He wiped the corners of his eyes. Snap out of it, or your ass is busted.

She fell back. She slapped her hands on the mud. You have to carry me, she whined. I can’t walk I’m too fucked up I’m not supposed to drink alcohol y‘know.

I can’t carry you, he said. It’s too wet. I’ll fall.

Drag me.

He laughed. The third time tonight. Laughter is good for the soul is good for what ails you is good for nothing is laughter. Christ. He unbuttoned his denim work shirt he stripped it off he tied the sleeves around her wrists. He pulled hard on the shirt. Her arms jerked up from the mud.

Ow she said.

All around dogs barked Cops dragged bodies kicking through the stalks. He leaned backward he hiked his feet until the mud let go her body. He dragged her down the row. He dragged her over stones and broken stalks and stunted ears of corn. Crouched at the shadows running past.

On her back he towed her from the field, the heated voices. His feet slapped puddles like shovelblades. He shook the rain from his hair and the hair from his eyes. Near the poplars the fen His feet dished out from under him his shirt ripped Cornhusks he tumbled knees and elbows down the bank, face first into a bowl of mud. She fell on top of him laughing. He spit and coughed and Fuck. He kicked he shook her off his back. He pushed himself to his knees.

On her back, a manikin mud and leaves. Arms unfurled she thighs an open invitation. She eyes glinted scattered shovelfuls of moonlight. Belly go weak with dying stars, breathless running through the fen. The blackened face that sweats red tears. He spit again. His squeezed he cold mud hands into he armpits he shivered.

He said I can’t drag you anymore.

She watched him. She rubbed her heels against the mud and shewatched him. I really do like your beard, she said. You look just like Cameron.

HE FELT ALONG THE WALL FOR THE LAMP. HE TWISTED THE rough pebble of the switch. The bungalow was one room. On either end the kitchen the bathroom. On the dinette stacks of ceramic tile and dirty dishes. A mason jar filled with paintbrushes Wood flowers drowned in thinner. Books in stacks in milk crates around the room. Books cracked face down on the bed. The bed with blankets spilled to the floor beer bottles on the floor. Between dinette and bed the plastic sheet stapled over the hole in the wall. She pushed the door shut. The plastic sheet rustled.

My god, she said. Her muddy footprints across the dusty hardwood. I cannot believe you still have the wall torn down. How can you stand to have it all open like that?

He pulled the string hung from the ceiling. One bulb snapped yellow. Dead dark bugs in the shade. He said It’s kind of nice this way, actually. It’s like, I feel more at peace and freer now.

She said Yes but are you ever going to build the bedroom? Her eyes blinked in the curded mask of mud. Things chased things in her flickering gaze. She said, What I mean is.

It’s nice this way, he said.

She looked down at the floor. Fernblades her hair leaves glued her chest her thighs. The way she had screamed into his mouth. The way her thighs pulled him down and further down beneath vegetable and dirt. She was manikin of daffodil. Beneath the mud she was his wife.

Well maybe we should like lay down some newspaper or something, she said. We’ll get everything all muddy.

He shrugged and turned toward the kitchen. As before. What did it matter? The best-laid plans ran rootless through the fen. He pulled open the refrigerator. Breath of mold and viscid greens. He saw he did have one.

Why can’t you drink alcohol? he said to the cold the buzz of light.

Oh well because of the meds I’m on didn’t you know? He closed the fridge and moved toward the dinette. He cupped the egg in his palm. She said, See while I was up in Seattle the folks paid for me to see this doctor. Shrink. Whatever. Everyone always told me I was crazy you know? But to hear it from a guy who gets paid to know these things, well.

He stood the muddied egg on the table. I thought you wore your madness like a badge.

Yes but god I really was going crazy she said. I mean I had to get out of here didn’t I? She held her arms to the sides. Mud dropped leaves spluttered stuck to the floor. He tried to balance the egg. The egg fell. He raised the egg again. He let go. The egg fell lazy see saw. It was voodoo. A hammer swung and swung and swung and Anyhow I’m on these anti-depressants, she said. Alcohol’s bad news but I couldn’t help myself though I mean seeing you again everything just came rushing back. Cameron.

The egg rolled and bumped across the dinette. The egg clicked against a stack of tile. He said, The egg won’t stand.

That’s because the time for it’s already passed, she said. She watched him from behind her mask. Timepast and time present, what might have been and what has been, the wild thyme and the wild strawberry, laughter in the fen.

So are you still doing your art work? she said.

Sure.

Well I myself just lined up the greatest job I’m going to be working on a yacht. I absolutely love sailing. Pleasure cruises fishing it’s going to be so fucking cool. This guy works out of the San Juans. We’ve taken his ship out a few times. He wants me but he’s too old he’s got a kid anyways he says I’m the most natural born sailor he’s ever seen. She laughed her teeth white against the brown mud. Her body. Mud and yellow leaves. Fallen apples ripe from trees, sunk down apples in the mud. She moved around the bed toward him. She laced her mucked up arm through his arm. Rage and desire Hooves pounded Mud clots kicked up rumbled in his ears.

So are we just going to stand around here doing nothing? she said. I mean, I don’t know about you but I’m not that fond of mudpacks with sticks and what’s this shit? pieces of cornstalk. Why don’t we get cleaned up?

Their bodies wavered in the plastic sheet. He cleared his throat. You know, this is one thing I’ve always loved about you he said. The way you take my arm in