He didn’t know how it
was for her, but to him it seemed both revolting and absolutely unbearable.
Looking at the asphalt, crudely but lavishly veined with millions of torpid and
twitchy worms, Kyle kept blaming himself for his bad luck. Why of all days did
it have to rain this particular Thursday? Thursday he had long singled out,
cuddled and smothered like a frail, anemic baby? Though come to think of it, it
wasn’t really about the rain, that laidback and fairly innocuous drizzle that
had looked and sounded more like early autumn’s tax than a tragedy. No, damn
the rain: this was about the worms.
And now it was even
worse – because she noticed.
- That funny gait. You
don’t normally walk like that, do
you?
Kyle didn’t want to lie.
Not because he wasn’t actually capable of lying or because it was their first
real date (which it was) and he wanted to do good and be good – but more
because he was way too confused and preoccupied with his feet to think of
anything smart. Or witty. Or at the very least believable.
- These worms. I’m
afraid I might, you know, step on them.
There. He said it. What
he didn’t say, though, was that it was not mere disgust – this was actually
fear. So many of those childish fears he had long shrugged off, abandoned or simply
forgotten, yet this one kept catching up on him like a particularly nasty
dream. It happened every time after this specific sort of rain that is neither
too light nor too hard. It just dragged them out of their minute holes and
cracks and made them look like a numerous but random group of tourists who had
the nerve to listlessly usurp the whole beach.
Well, at least she
didn’t laugh.
- Will it get better
when it gets dark?.. Come on, just don’t look down. It’ll be all right.
He was slightly annoyed
– people who had given him that sort of advice in the past were all quite
indifferent to his predicament and had only said it out of dull, self-serving
politeness. “Will it get better when it gets dark?” “Just don’t look down”.
What difference could it make? Couldn’t his creepy mind paint pictures a lot more
cruel than his very vision that was well-impeded by his boots and the bulging
bump of his scarf? Couldn’t his imagination see the disgustingly silent
squishing of the mawkish, soft brown flesh?
- No, Karen – he said,
somehow finding it necessary to answer. – It won’t. Because in that case I will
just imagine that I’m stepping on them all
the time…
But by that time the
grass had already begun to gnaw at the crumbly edges of the asphalt, which
meant that the park was not far away. Kyle felt good about the grass. Grass was
all right. Its dense, densely invisible textures effectively put Kyle out of
his misery, for that way he knew that even if they were there – his hardened
soles could do them no harm against the grassy, uneven surface of the ground. But,
and here was the catch, they were not there. Not in the grass.
Karen halted, which also
stopped Kyle and his unforgivable train of thought. While Karen was staring at
the gate that looked as closed and unapproachable as it was supposed to at this
time of day, Kyle kept piercing at the dim face of his watch (since was it
really okay to look at the mobile phone too much during your first date with a
girl?). Kyle felt slightly panicky about the gate, because if Martin had been
bullshitting him about it being opened from 9:30 till 9:45, then all was lost. And
it was still, he now managed to deduce, 9:32.
- Are you sure about
that gate? – asked Karen. – Because, you know, it’s fine if…
She then interrupted
herself by doing what only the rarest and the greatest of girls could: Karen
turned to Kyle and looked at him in a way that was both abstract and
inescapably intimate. It wasn’t his eyes she was looking for: it was the
intention, the feeling, the act. And then Kyle sensed it coming, that breath.
He knew that breath: it was not about experience, this was about intuition. Her
breath was actually getting closer and closer to him without her approaching
him or in any way changing the position of her head. Kyle got it: his next
move…
And only through some
distant clattering of the gate could he hear himself whisper:
- Well, I am sure. The park will be open. Just
wait and see.
‘Brave’ was never the
word Kyle could use when describing himself even to people who actually wanted
to hear it from him. However, this time this was an all-or-nothing proposition,
and the wall was too hard against his back, so he took her hand, for the first
time ever, and gently led her to the gate. Feeling the increased pumping of his
heart that was threatening to drop by their cautious feet, Kyle pushed the gate
open...
Yes, it gave way, and
they could now have the park to themselves. After all, who else knew about this
15-minute gap that could be the result of a careless gatekeeper as much as some
obscure divine act? And for all his well-honed cynicism, Kyle was going for the
latter.
The park looked
obliquely gorgeous. Like some sinister fairy-tale wonder, it was pitched into
half-darkness, and was only illuminated by a bunch of drowsy, disinterested
lamp-posts. The park being so close to the college, they did of course know all
about it: its benches dedicated to the most loyal visitors that were now dead;
the corners where you had to be careful to avoid knocking down a squirrel with
rose petals in its quivering, ever-munching mouth; trees that could hide you
from the storm, trees that couldn’t; exciting paths that led you nowhere;
bushes that hid erratic piles of condoms and beer cans. Now, though, Karen and
Kyle were ready to discover it anew. They both felt that the park opened an
endless array of opportunities for seeing and experiencing things that were
trampled or gobbled down by noisy children throwing frisbees or groups of
schoolgirls hysterically driving around the lake in old-fashioned swan-shaped
boats. This moment had none of that, and the atmosphere, freshly minted by the
rain, made it all look even more electrifying.
Still, the park was not entirely empty, and at some point they
could see a subtle figure in the distance. It looked like a chubby child – only
what could he possibly do here at such a time? Kyle squeezed Karen’s hand,
because he felt the unmistakable shiver injecting her fingers and her whole
body. The thing was, Kyle himself was scared, and only the presence of someone
so much more vulnerable than himself helped him disregard the fact that there
was something perversely wrong about
that child…
Besides, he got
distracted. An irregular object got flashed out by the moon’s skeptical,
slapdash blink, and Kyle cast a worried glance to the left of him. Something
was sticking out from the grass, something that was not supposed to be there. A
cigarette pack? A crumpled handkerchief? An abandoned toy?
Kyle delicately separated their hands and got closer to the place on the grass where the object
was lying.
- Is everything all
right? – asked Karen.
Kyle gazed in the
distance: the mysterious silhouette was gone.
- Yeah, just stay where
you are. Stay in the light, it won’t be a second...
He guessed right. This
really was a bundled, dirty (formerly white) handkerchief that Kyle just
couldn’t leave where it was. There are certain bundled handkerchiefs you would
never touch, not in a million years – yet this one just had to be unwrapped. So
Kyle turned his back to Karen and knelt down. He then slowly, carefully unwrapped
the handkerchief. Somehow, what he saw inside didn’t shock him the way it had
to: for it was a human nose. The real one, cut off from a human face and
covered in mud. Nothing to do with clowns or wax. Kyle bundled it all again and
slipped the handkerchief into the pocket of his coat.
- What was it? – asked
Karen, trying to read it from his face.
Well, of course: she had
to ask. And of course he was not supposed to turn to her and say: “Well, Karen,
it’s nothing. Just a human nose”.
- Well, Karen, it’s
nothing. Looks like somebody has lost his handkerchief…
His first lie to her,
though was it really all that bad? Was it perhaps a half-lie, a white lie and
maybe not a lie at all? For in all honesty – this really was a handkerchief that somebody had left in the grass. Dropped
accidentally or placed intentionally (as a clue or as a bait) – that was a
different matter altogether.
They carried on walking
– silently, holding hands, enjoying every minute of it. Not even a cut-off
human nose could waver the harmony or throw it all off balance.
Strangely enough, the
nose made Kyle think about Martin. Was it because the nose looked a lot like
Martin’s? Or did it have to do with a film that Martin made him watch the other
day? Kyle couldn’t tell at that point. What he did know, though, was that
Martin (who already saw himself as a real-life film director) was currently
trying to find the right cast for his first movie project. Which would have
been perfectly all right and could see him woo dozens of girls in a matter of
hours, only Martin’s project wasn’t really all that straightforward. Couldn’t
be. In his typically contrarian manner, Martin’s first script was for a porn
movie. And somehow he saw Karen as his lead actress.
“Are you out of your
fucking mind? – was Kyle’s initial reaction. – Fuck your fifteen minutes, I
don’t care. I’m not saying anything. What am I, a pimp? Asking the one girl I
like to play in a fucking porn movie?”
Martin was relentless.
He said he would do that for a friend, that a porn movie was only a porn movie
and not the end of the world and what the hell was wrong with him anyway?
“She is the girl,
believe me. And it’s not hardcore, so don’t worry about that. It will all be
simulated”.
“Fuck off”.
At that moment there was
nothing Kyle desired more than hit Martin as hard as he possibly could, but now
the whole pornography thing was coming back, kicking against his skull like a
rush of blood. Now Kyle was gradually getting himself in a playful,
devil-may-care mood that could make him do and say asinine things he would
later regret. Besides, wasn’t asinine drivel the only thing you were supposed
to say to a girl on a first date? And
what if she in fact agreed?..
- Karen, – said Kyle,
wondering what he would say next. – I think I haven’t yet told you about
Lynch’s hand?..
- Lynch’s hand? – he loved the genuine incredulity in her voice. Not
that there could be a different reaction to that. – No, I don’t think you have.
And now that he gave
himself away, it was absolutely imperative to cover it all up with some
half-assed modesty.
- Well, it’s nothing
really. I was just walking in the street a year or two ago... And, you know,
David Lynch was getting out of his car. It was just the moment, really. The
perfect moment. I approached him and stretched out my arm. Fearing the absolute
worst… Well, imagine my surprise…
- He shook your hand?
David Lynch? Eraserhead?
- Yeah, and Mulholland Drive, and Twin Peaks. He actually shook my hand.
He was there for a film festival, I guess…
- My God, –said Karen. –
Why didn’t you ask for an autograph?
“Girls!” – thought Kyle,
and was in fact on the verge of asking her about acting in Martin’s film. In
the end there was just no time to ask, because in a sickly, sloppy, slow-motion
haze the mysterious figure reemerged at the far end of the alley and was now approaching
them.
- Oh please, Kyle, let’s
leave now. I’m so scared…
- It’s all right, Karen,
don’t worry. I think I know who that is.
So this was not to be a
shocking revelation on par with that ghastly ending of Nicolas Roeg’s Don’t Look Now that Martin loved so
much. Lushly painted in blood and that intense redness of the raincoat, this
was the ending that freaked Kyle out more than any horror movie could ever hope
to. But the harrowing experience helped him. As a matter of fact, the figure
didn’t have anything to do with children. The figure was indeed that of a
dwarf. So – no, Kyle could abandon his witty and comic but now absolutely
inappropriate idea of asking the stranger was he not by any chance looking for
his nose?.. Particularly since it was not a stranger at all. It was a man who
lived in the town, appearing here and there and never failing to bring on a
nervous shrug or a restless stare. He was harmless, though, and Kyle could feel
how Karen’s hand grew calmer, more relaxed.
The dwarf went past them
as if they didn’t exist, muttering something to himself, something
indecipherable. Something that they both nevertheless strove to make out.
When he was gone, Karen
said with confused, unsettled excitement:
- It was something about
the gate. I heard the word ‘gate’.
At which point they both
turned around and gazed into the strangely purplish distance they had just
left. They could neither see nor hear anything. The mysterious man had
vanished, as had his muttering and his muffled footsteps. And in thirty seconds
or so Kyle and Karen heard the soft, stealthy clattering of the gate that did
perhaps a little more than send a simultaneous, stirring shiver down their
spines…
When the intention, the
act, the move was fulfilled, Kyle could hardly take his aroused stare off
Karen’s face and glowing, penetrating eyes that were in fact so blue and so
pale. Kyle felt warm; calmer than he had ever been. And as they crossed the
brief patch of grass that prefaced the park and saw that the gate was locked, in
and out, they feigned no surprise or indignation. They knew it had to be – at
this time of day.
- But of course it is, – said Karen. – Well, like I say: never mind.
Which made Kyle wonder
whether he had really seen that nose, covered in muddy, dried up blood and belonging
to God knows who. For the pocket of his coat was most certainly empty,
containing only that nostalgic, embroidered white handkerchief he hadn’t used
in years. Also, Kyle could hear himself talking to Martin on the phone, maybe
tomorrow, and listening to Martin’s incredulous “Fifteen minutes? What fifteen minutes?” Perhaps even “What porn movie?” Perhaps even “Karen? You are dating Karen?..”
So did it really happen?
And did it really matter? Had he really shaken Lynch’s hand? Presently, the
only indication of it was that his arm, tight around her warm waist, was
actually burning.
They stepped off the
grass, and Kyle could swear that the worms had all mysteriously vanished into
the miserable cracks that were their homes. Or maybe they hadn’t actually
vanished, and were still there, numerous and random, waiting to be squashed
into pulp? This time, though, darkness was all right. It worked, it hijacked
Kyle’s imagination, and as he kissed Karen again, he tried to forget all about
porn movies and cryptic bundles and unsettling dwarves. So as not to betray her
by thinking of something so disgustingly, so impossibly wicked.