how would you know? And when Alfredo tells you that you make good soap or whatever his line is you nod and say yes, but you’re sick of making soap and thinking of just buying it in the store from now on. And again, I said, try not to look directly at the camera. Marijke nodded and got up. Thanks, Irma, she said.
No sweat, I said.
We smiled and I told her she was beautiful. Radiant. I told her I thought her neck was as long if not longer than my forearm, like Nefertiti. She told me she felt like shit in the dress she was wearing and then looked at mine and apologized and said that it was weird that her dress was a costume and mine was just a dress even when they were virtually identical and then she apologized again, she put her hand on her throat as though that was the place where regrettable words sprang from, and I waved it all away, it didn’t matter. I had befriended a horse wearing this dress. For some reason I thought it would be funny for me to tell Marijke that but she was already gliding away towards Diego and the others.
The next day everybody was sick, probably from the dirty water in the pool and nobody had anything to say. Through the kitchen window I could see Oveja napping under the truck. I pulled the notebook from the pocket ofmy dress and pressed it to my forehead. It felt cool on my warm skin.
Diego has asked me if I’d be willing to clean the house and do the crew’s laundry. Marijke and the crew are huddled around the TV watching something with no sound and looking green and exhausted. I don’t know how to ask Diego if he’ll pay me extra for cleaning. In addition to the word samizdat I’m now pondering the meaning of the word despondent . My English is fine. I lived in Canada for thirteen years and went to a normal school with normal kids. But there are words that drift around in my head like memories from the Jazz Age or something. I want to say them but they’re not really mine to feel. Here comes Diego again. The end.
Okay, I said. I’ll clean the house.
He said he’d still take the crew out to shoot some stuff but that Marijke could have the day off and stay in bed or do whatever she wanted to do.
Where’s Wilson? I asked.
He went back to Caracas, said Diego.
Why? I said.
We had a fight, said Diego. I keep forgetting how sensitive he is. He erupts like shrapnel and then goes psycho still, like numb inside. His eyes go like this. I don’t understand him. He wants me to write an introduction to his book of stories. But now we all have extra work. Irma, I have aquestion to ask you. Do you know that song “A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall”? Do you know this? A-gonna ?
No, I said.
Diego went back into the living room to talk to the others and I wandered into Wilson’s room and looked around. He wasn’t there. So, that was true at least. I sat on Wilson’s bed and felt the mattress sag a bit beneath me. He hadn’t forgotten to take his notebook.
After the others had left, Marijke went into the yard and threw up next to the pump. She washed her face and then stuck her whole head under the water and then took off her T-shirt and lay on the grass on her back with her breasts exposed to the sun and the wind and God. I lay down in the grass on my side with my back to her.
Marijke, I said, what kind of a Mennonite are you? I said it quietly and in Spanish. In fact, I may not have said it at all.
Irma, she said, do you have any real idea of what this movie is about?
Well, it’s about the meaning of life? I said. I mean not life, life, but some lives? That’s all I can think of. Leave-taking.
What did you say? she said.
Leave-taking, I said. I wasn’t sure how to use that word in a sentence. Our leave-taking from Canada was abrupt and permanent. Our poignant leave-taking left me breathless and … I wasn’t sure.
You miss Wilson, she said. I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t see her. She put her hand on my back and I went stiff like a stillborn calf. I felt like I was being
No sweat, I said.
We smiled and I told her she was beautiful. Radiant. I told her I thought her neck was as long if not longer than my forearm, like Nefertiti. She told me she felt like shit in the dress she was wearing and then looked at mine and apologized and said that it was weird that her dress was a costume and mine was just a dress even when they were virtually identical and then she apologized again, she put her hand on her throat as though that was the place where regrettable words sprang from, and I waved it all away, it didn’t matter. I had befriended a horse wearing this dress. For some reason I thought it would be funny for me to tell Marijke that but she was already gliding away towards Diego and the others.
The next day everybody was sick, probably from the dirty water in the pool and nobody had anything to say. Through the kitchen window I could see Oveja napping under the truck. I pulled the notebook from the pocket ofmy dress and pressed it to my forehead. It felt cool on my warm skin.
Diego has asked me if I’d be willing to clean the house and do the crew’s laundry. Marijke and the crew are huddled around the TV watching something with no sound and looking green and exhausted. I don’t know how to ask Diego if he’ll pay me extra for cleaning. In addition to the word samizdat I’m now pondering the meaning of the word despondent . My English is fine. I lived in Canada for thirteen years and went to a normal school with normal kids. But there are words that drift around in my head like memories from the Jazz Age or something. I want to say them but they’re not really mine to feel. Here comes Diego again. The end.
Okay, I said. I’ll clean the house.
He said he’d still take the crew out to shoot some stuff but that Marijke could have the day off and stay in bed or do whatever she wanted to do.
Where’s Wilson? I asked.
He went back to Caracas, said Diego.
Why? I said.
We had a fight, said Diego. I keep forgetting how sensitive he is. He erupts like shrapnel and then goes psycho still, like numb inside. His eyes go like this. I don’t understand him. He wants me to write an introduction to his book of stories. But now we all have extra work. Irma, I have aquestion to ask you. Do you know that song “A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall”? Do you know this? A-gonna ?
No, I said.
Diego went back into the living room to talk to the others and I wandered into Wilson’s room and looked around. He wasn’t there. So, that was true at least. I sat on Wilson’s bed and felt the mattress sag a bit beneath me. He hadn’t forgotten to take his notebook.
After the others had left, Marijke went into the yard and threw up next to the pump. She washed her face and then stuck her whole head under the water and then took off her T-shirt and lay on the grass on her back with her breasts exposed to the sun and the wind and God. I lay down in the grass on my side with my back to her.
Marijke, I said, what kind of a Mennonite are you? I said it quietly and in Spanish. In fact, I may not have said it at all.
Irma, she said, do you have any real idea of what this movie is about?
Well, it’s about the meaning of life? I said. I mean not life, life, but some lives? That’s all I can think of. Leave-taking.
What did you say? she said.
Leave-taking, I said. I wasn’t sure how to use that word in a sentence. Our leave-taking from Canada was abrupt and permanent. Our poignant leave-taking left me breathless and … I wasn’t sure.
You miss Wilson, she said. I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t see her. She put her hand on my back and I went stiff like a stillborn calf. I felt like I was being
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