Copyright 1991 Aya Katz
FROM THE DIARY OF VERITY LACKLAND
I can hear the household come alive, but I don't feel like popping out and talking to anyone. Least of all the guests. So I suppose I ought to write it all down, while it's still fresh in my mind.
Yesterday at breakfast everybody was very glum. They didn't talk to each other at all. Nabal wouldn't even look at any of us. And even Anadora had nothing to say. There was only the occasional, rare clatter of silverware. Finally I couldn't stand it any more, so I said to Anadora: "About the Cabeza de Vaca name. You say Caleb got it from Othniel, who got it from Jafnez, who got it indirectly from Canez, who got it somehow from Nu·ez. But how did Nu·ez get it?"
Nabal raised an eyebrow. "You've certainly memorized your begats."
It was a funny thing to say. I wonder whether Sam made him read the really boring parts in the Bible. That could be worse than a beating.
Anadora looked pleased. "This is a very good question, child." She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, then looked back at me. "Well, as a matter of fact, this was not his father's surname. His father's last name was de Vera. He was the grandson of the great Conquistador Pedro de Vera. But his mother's last name was Cabeza de Vaca. She got that from her father."
"I figured as much."
"And he got it from his father before him."
Oh, boy, I thought. This is going to be rather dull. She can keep going all the way back to prehistory, when a Cabeza de Vaca tamed a brontosaurus.
"But the name originates in the thirteenth century, when the first Cabeza de Vaca marked a hidden mountain pass with the heads of cows, and led the entire Spanish army to victory over the Moors. The King, in recognition of this great service gave him a title, and dubbed him Cabeza de Vaca."
"For the cow skulls?"
She nodded.
"I don't understand. What exactly was this great service he performed?"
"No one knew about this mountain pass. Its memory had been lost in antiquity. Only Cabeza de Vaca knew of it. He showed them the way. That's how they vanquished the Moors."
"Oh." It seemed a little vague, but it was better than nothing. Nabal was watching me from the corner of his eye. I could feel it. "Well, I suppose that explains it, then."
Nobody said anything further at breakfast.
Except that it really doesn't explain anything at all. Where did he get the cow skulls? Why cow skulls? Why did he need to mark it at all, if he led them there. Presumably he knew where it was. And where was it? The Pyrenees? Further south? And why cow skulls? Why not pebbles or bread crumbs?
I went to the library to try to figure it out. I started with the books on Spanish history that were in Spanish. But as I was searching further back in history, I found books in Latin, too. And I know even less Latin that I do Spanish, so I didn't get anywhere.
I was getting really tired and I didn't intend to miss lunch this time. But I couldn't make myself stop. I kept wandering around, not even reading the titles of the books, just touching the covers. And I found one that was really dog eared. It smelled strange, too. Not strange exactly, just somehow familiar and comforting. I pulled it out and looked at it. It was a children's book. One of those adventure stories. It was hard covered, but just barely, the cardboard was starting to show through the cloth. And there was a blue outline of an elephant on the front. That was disappointing. Why an elephant? Why not a cow?
But I knew right away that it was his book, before I even read the dedication. "To Nabal, on his seventh birthday, Caleb." I had a flashback to Abby's present. At least it can't be poisoned, I thought. And why is everything in multiples of seven? When Nabal was seven, I was seven years unborn. If that means anything.
The title of the book was Hannibal: the Boy from Africa. I took it to my favorite spot across from Jafnez's portrait. The letters were really big. The narrative was childlike, patronizing. I sped through it, till I came to a passage that was marked with an asterisk. A faint, pencilled asterisk. "Once, when Hannibal's army was trapped and the only way out was through a mountain pass guarded by Romans, Hannibal sent up cattle with torches on their horns. While the Romans overtook the cattle, Hannibal's army went through the pass." I stopped to reread that. It was just as vague as Anadora' story about the first Cabeza de Vaca. What mountain pass? What mountains? Which country was it in?
I wasn't surprised when I looked up from the book to see Nabal standing in the open doorway. I tried to smile. "Hi."
"I see you've finally found something on your reading level," he said. It was a snide comment, but it came out devoid of malice. He looked worried.
"You're late for lunch," he said. "Are you fasting again?"
I shrugged. "Are you?"
"They say it cleanses the soul." His eyes were so sad.
"What's the matter?" I asked.
He looked away, but then he finally said it. "I've received notice from the IRS. They plan to audit my returns of the past seven fiscal years."
"Oh," I said. He looked so forlorn. I wanted to cheer him up. "Seven is a lucky number."
He didn't quite smile. "A little over seven years ago I married Abby. Her signature is on every one of those returns."
I looked down at the book in my hands, with the blue elephant on the cover. "You think David's behind it."
"What do you think?"
"I think that if you didn't do anything wrong, you shouldn't be ... afraid." That was lame. How could I say something that dumb?
"Well, now," he said. "You're living proof of that, aren't you."
"Are you afraid of the IRS?" I asked. Only I didn't really mean the IRS exactly. I meant anything. He shouldn't be afraid of anything.
"As Nu·ez feared the inquisition." He was looking at Jafnez in that confederate uniform scowling at us. "Not just now. I've always feared them. And loathed myself for submitting. Let your own tongue bear witness against you, they say. No fifth amendment, we are above the constitution. They compel us to confess our sins. And we confess. Sign here, on the line, they say, under penalty of perjury, and we sign. We could rebel, except that we are slaves, and it hurts far less to bend the knee. We don't know precisely what they'd do to us if we refused. But we know it would be bad. Not worth the risk. I've always hated them, but I did everything to appease them. Scrupulously. Still, it doesn't help, if someone's pointed you out. That was always the way of it."
"But they're just ... bureaucrats," I stammered.
"And the Inquisition were only clerics."
I stared down at the blue elephant. I wished he were seven years old again so that I could hold him. He wouldn't let me hold him now.
"Give me that," he ordered. "It's my book."
I looked at him. His eyes were angry. I handed it to him reluctantly. "Yeah, it's your book. And I'm your slut."
It was a pitiful plea, but he seemed to view it as an attack. He said: "When I say so." In the doorway, he turned back once. "Are you coming to lunch?"
I shook my head, no. I don't know why exactly. Just to be contrary, I suppose. So he walked off, with the book. I wonder if he took it to lunch.
But I wasn't going to be starved again. I had some money. I decided to drive into town for a bite. And I wanted to talk to David. I wanted to ask him about the IRS.
When I got to the Brown 'N Serve, the parking lot was full, so I ended up across the street by the Courthouse. Oddly enough, there were a lot of spaces there. When I entered the restaurant, it was obvious they were having a party. David was standing on the platfrom, making a speech. It was something to do with what a great Judge Saul had been and how he and Jon were the best of friends. How he'd never forget them. And that he was going to erect a monument to their memory in the County square. So that they would never be forgotten. And he also announced that he and Mickey were getting back together and that her little brother, who is now in a wheelchair, will be living with them. He said he had promised Saul he'd look after his children. And he meant to keep that promise. Everybody cheered.
Pipa spotted me. "Glad you could come," she said. "Getting tired of Nabal, yet?"
"I just want to order some lunch," I said.
"Oh, there's plenty of food. It's free. Help yourself." She indicated a table piled with food. I took my place at the end of the chow line. The woman in front of me had long, thick auburn hair and she smelled lemony. I suppose that was her perfume. Every woman in this county has a special scent. And the men, too. I mean, a special artificial scent they use as a trademark. Only Nabal and Anadora smell like real people. Like flesh and blood. Like sweat and tears.
The lemony smelling woman turned around. She was gorgeous. She's the prettiest woman I've seen here, so far. She had Abby beat. And Mickey too. She was less intellectual than Abby, less voluptuous than Mickey, but she had everything just right. And she seemed innocent, too. Not gawky innocent, like me. Not virginal innocent, either. She was like a wild animal, or a nymph. "Hi, my name is Betsy Hittner," she said. "I'm heading the committee to re-elect the Judge."
"Isn't he dead?" I stammered.
She laughed. "No, the new Judge. David Smith."
"Oh, David. Right. Does he need to be elected?"
"Well, he's only been appointed to fill the term. There's a new election in November. Of course, he's a shoo-in."
"Is anyone running against him?" I asked.
She shook her head.
I laughed. "Yeah. I'd say he's a pretty good bet."
"I didn't catch your name," she said.
"Verity. Verity Lackland."
She tried to place it.
"I'm staying at Carmel."
"Oh, yeah." Recognition dawned in her eyes. She leaned forward. "Is it true what they say about him?" she started to ask. I really didn't want to hear it. Thankfully, we were interrupted by the arrival of her husband, Gary, whom she immediately proceeded to introduce to me. He was about average height and build. Everything was avarage about him, from his lightbrown hair to his hazel eyes, to his normal mid-American features. He exuded subdued goodwill. But when she told him who I was, he leaned forward, just like her. "Oh, then you live with Nabal. I heard that..."
"I'm not going to answer any more questions about what he's like in ..." I started to blurt out angrily. But Pipa was there and she pulled me aside. "Don't be a fool, Verity. Nobody tells him anything. He's a foreigner."
"A foreigner?"
"Yeah, he's from Ohio."
"Oh."
She pushed me back toward the Hittners. My face was red. Gary looked confused. "I was just going to ask if he had an opening ... for a ranchhand."
"Oh." I nodded, trying to seem normal. "Oh. Well, I don't know. I could ask him."
Betsy's lemony form stirred beside me. "Oh, David's waving to me," she said. "I'll go see what he wants. Be right back."
Which left me with Gary. "So, when did you move here from Ohio?" I asked.
"Thirty years ago," he said.
"Oh." If he's a foreigner, I must be an alien from Mars.
I decided to stick around till I got a chance to speak with David. But the time wore on and he was always surrounded with people. Throughout the afternoon, I could spot Betsy Hittner not too far from his orbit.
When dinner time rolled around, they served more food. I had no reason to go home. Nabal doesn't want me. And besides, I had to find if David was really behind it all.
As the evening wore on, the party showed no signs of dying out. Somebody handed David a guitar, and soon he was doing an Elvis impression, with lots of body language.
He sang Love me Tender and Hounddog and I Did it My Way. And always they asked for more. Then they started clapping in rythm and shouting "Da-vid! Da-vid!" except it was like groupies, as though they were shouting "El-vis, El-vis." It was fairly late by then, maybe nine o'clock. Maybe later. And as they chanted, he started to strip down. He threw his shirt into the crowd and they scrambled to catch it. Then he threw down his belt, then his tee shirt then his pants, and those red shorts were about to go, too, when Mickey pulled him off the stage, and dragged him out into the lobby. They were still chanting "Da-vid, Da-vid."
I followed him out into the hall. Mickey was loud, but the crowd behind us was louder. "What a sight! The right honorable County Judge displaying himself to every last scrubmaid among them, like a bum off the street. My Daddy never ..."
His voice was even. "I am not your Daddy. I was chosen by Sam and the people over your Daddy. I'm their County Judge, and I'll gladly humble myself before them. Before every last one of them. Even the scrubmaids."
"Well ..." she started to say, then walked off in a huff.
David stood there for a moment, lost in thought. He was neither sad nor happy. Just serene.
I didn't want to intrude, but it was my one chance. "David?" I ventured, hesitating.
He looked at me. "Verity. Hi."
The thing about David is that he's always glad to see you. Really.
"I don't want to bother you," I started to say, "but there's something I wanted to ask."
He smiled. "Ask away. That's what I'm here for." He spread out his arms, and it was a funny gesture, considering his state of undress. He looked like a model in a catalog. Or a Greek statue in underwear.
"Did you sic the IRS on Nabal?"
His smile disappeared. "They're not a dog. You can't sic them at people."
"You didn't answer my question."
He patted me on the shoulder. "You're a nice kid, Verity. I don't want to see you hurt."
I shook his hand off. "He's done nothing wrong."
"No," he said, his lips clenched. "He killed Abby. Murder isn't nothing."
"That was submitted to the grand jury. They no billed it. Don't you believe in the system?"
"There is more than one way to right a wrong. No one could nail Al Capone. Except the IRS. Don't you see? They're an instrument of justice."
I shook my head. "No. That's not justice. To trump up charges against someone for one thing, when you want to get him for something else. That isn't right!"
"Murder isn't right, either. He killed a woman, in cold blood. He could do it again. Don't you think he deserves a few years in prison?"
"Prison?!" My lips quivered. "That would kill him."
David shrugged. "That's fine with me. That's his choice. Abby didn't have a choice"
I backed away from him. "Is that the kind of Judge you're going to be?"
David shook his head. "What did he tell you? That he's a victim? That he's better than everyone else because he comes from a long line of losers?"
"He didn't tell me anything," I said. "He hasn't told me anything."
David reached out and brushed the bangs from my eyes. "See the light, Verity. He's using you. And he's dangerous. Get out while you can."
I heard a rustle in the hall. And I smelled him before I heard him. "Miss Lackland!" I turned around fast. Nabal's eyes were pitch black and shiny. He strode over and gripped my arm, twisting it behind me. I gasped.
David rushed forward. To defend me, I suppose. "Let go of her!"
"Aren't there enough whores in this County that you must take mine?" Nabal's voice was pained, but oddly calm. The question had probably been on his mind for some time.
David threw himself at Nabal, whose fingers were still firmly anchored in my flesh. "No," I said to David. "Leave him alone. I want to go with him. Really." It was hard to sound convincing, when he was hurting me so. I wasn't even convinced myself.
David backed away. "Don't let him push you around," he said. "Remember, I can help you."
"No really," I said. "That's okay."
Nabal dragged me over to Eb's desk. "Room 26," he growled.
Eb looked sheepish. "Sorry. It's taken. If you'd called in advance, I could've saved it for you. Anniversary?"
"I'll take whatever you have." Nabal's voice was like death.
"We're packed solid," Eb explained. "What with the party. But I do have 29."
Nabal snatched it from him and propelled me up the stairs. Twenty-nine was as big as a broom closet. The bed was a single. He threw me onto it. I lay there in a pile, afraid to move, watching him.
He started to unbuckle his belt, drew it out, held it up. The buckle was shaped like the head of a cow. I didn't have to think what the gesture meant. I could feel it in the pit of stomach. It was less than terror, more than fear. It was just sort of: this is it.
He smiled, his mouth crooked line of bitterness. "You'd like that wouldn't you. You'd all like that. Every last one of you. Every citizen. Every voter." I didn't know what he was raving about, but I wished he would just do whatever he wanted, and get it over with. "Well, I won't give you the pleasure." He threw aside the belt. "I don't need you that much. You can stew in your own juices."
But he kept undressing. Not hiding himself from me this time. Not sparing me anything. "Nabal ..."
When he was stark naked, desnudo como nasci. The words came to me in a flash from my readings on Nu·ez. But I didn't want to think about Nu·ez. I thought about the blue elephant, instead. The blue elephant and the boy from Africa. That was somehow comforting. He started undressing me. Very gently, without a hint of violence. Only the anger in his eyes and the set of his mouth let me know that he hated me. As he hated the people of this County. As he probably hated the world.
He removed my panties and eyed them suspiciously. "Where did you get these?"
"Your mother paid for ..." I gasped before I could finish the phrase, because he'd stuck his hand between my legs. "There," he said triumphantly. "Even the hint of violence and you're foaming at the mouth. Kindness could not have wrung it out of you."
"You were never kind ..." I breathed. I was squirming, trying to get away from him. He wasn't hurting me, but that, too, was not kind.
He shook his head. "Not to you." His teeth were gritted tight. "Not to you."
I could feel myself shaking. I couldn't stop. I wanted to scream, but I wouldn't so I bit down on my lip. He had one hand at my throat, keeping me down. But gently.
"The only kindness I ever showed you was honesty. And even that was more than you could bear."
This strange gurgling sound burst forth from my lips.
"You were not content to meet my needs. You were not content to be my vessel. My release. Not you. Not she. I was a selfish pig if I assumed she wanted what I wanted and needed what I needed. I was a fool if I thought that was the meaning of love." He shuddered. "Instead I should have serviced her like the slut she was. Like the slut you are."
"I never asked you to ..." I bit down hard. He wasn't going to let me speak.
"Never asked. Your every look says it. Your every move. Why are you always reaching for me, trying to engulf me..."
"Because..." he let go of his chokehold and my hands came up instinctively to feel his craggy back. His hand withdrew from between my legs. It came out a whimper: "Because I love you."
He let me hold him, but his eyes were narrowed in hatred. "When did this happen? That first night in room 26, did you love me then?" His breathing was labored.
"No..."
"And when you agreed to come to live with me and serve as my slut, did you love me then?"
"No..."
"Then what is it worth, this love of yours, when those, the most sacred acts which ought to be reserved to it alone, are not the result of your love, but its prerequisite?"
"Um," I started to say. I was conscious of having failed the test. I didn't have an aswer. "But I do," I whispered. "I do."
"Fine," he hissed. "You keep loving me..." It came out hoarse, between gritted teeth, "... And I'll keep screwing you." Which he proceeded to do. But he let me hold him. It was all I ever wanted in the first place. And it got so I wasn't sure who was screwing whom. But if it pleased him to think it...
He wouldn't stay with me after. I couldn't make him stay. "That's what they want," he said. "To own me. To make me serve them, rather than the truth. That I concern myself with their needs, rather than justice. That I lower myself to their level. That I be their slave and not their lord. Then they might all love me, as they love him. But I won't do it. I won't sully my hands." Here he lifted them up and they shone in the light, webbed with pale transparent strands. He looked at them in disgust. "Where is the sink?" he said.
I covered up my smile and pointed out the bathroom door, which was hidden behind a chair. The room was so cramped, there was barely space enough for the bed.
When he was all dressed and ready to go, I lay there languidly. "Nabal ..."
"What!" He snapped.
"I loved you even when you were a lousy lover."
He forced down a half formed smile. "Well, that's a comfort."
And he walked out. I looked at my watch. It was after midnight and I was very sleepy. So I dozed off. When I woke up again, it was half past six. I showered and dressed. Pipa was behind the desk and she called to me. "He left you a note."
I got scared. I was afraid it would say that I was fired. That I shouldn't go back. But it said this instead: "In all the excitement, I forgot to tell you why I came looking for you in the first place. Your parents arrived at Carmel this afternoon and are anxious to see you. Nabal."
My parents? At Carmel. What must he have told them! I walked slowly across the street to my car. It was daylight. I stared at the County Courthouse, and at the cornerstone in particular. Next to the date 1845, I read the somewhat smaller type: "Crede Vaccam." I never noticed that before. Crede Vaccam. I wonder what it means.
__________