Grey

“Don’t hurt us!” whimpered Walter.

From the tent came a young woman in a flowing black skirt and a black bra with three cups. She had sharp green eyes, long flowing brown hair, but no mouth. Instead her face ended an inch below her nose. As she came closer, I could see that the black thing in the center of her chest was not another bra cup, but a speaker cone affixed to her flesh.

“You’ve come,” she said. I recognized her voice. She had been the one singing before. Her speaking voice was like a cross between a castrato and an electric shaver. “I hoped you would!”

I knew what was going on! Mother hadn’t just hoped I would come to live with her, she’d told all of her strange friends. “Where’s my mother?” I asked, wishing I hadn’t stopped after all.

“I’ll get her,” said the speaker-girl.

“I will!” said the man in red, who set down the genitals of the other. “I’ll get her.” He turned and dashed off. “Judy! Come quick! Judy, your son’s here!”

“Welcome!” said a man dressed in the same kind of ratskins that my mother had worn when I saw her last. “Welcome to our simple and true way of life!” He had long, greasy black hair, a gaunt face, but fierce, supernova eyes. “Welcome to the Tanoshi No Wah!” He spread his arms and his cane as if he were introducing a show.

“They’re all so very peculiar,” I heard Walter say.

“Michael! My darling!” It was my mother. Her hair was slicked back with what looked like mud. Her eyes were puffy and the ratskin robe she wore was open. On her belly was either a tattoo or paint. Below the word Wah was an arrow that pointed to her crotch. She closed her robe and put her arms around me and squeezed. I felt the cold mud on my face. “I knew it,” she said, sobbing gently. “I knew you’d save us!”

The others, who seemed to have been waiting for her to say just that, started to cheer.

“We just happened by,” I began. “We came to the slubs looking for ARU.” I was going to continue, but she touched my face with her cold hands.

“Michael! I’m so sorry, but we weren’t meant to live like this, with this guilt and remorse. I’ve got a few pills in my purse. Do you need one now?” She glanced toward the man in the skins and whispered, “Just don’t tell Mason!”

I guessed Mason was the master of ceremonies, and the way Mother spoke I figured he didn’t approve of her drugs. I also got the distinct and uncomfortable feeling they were having an affair.

“Not for me,” I said, “I need it for Joelene. And I want to explain something.”

“Maricell, sweetie,” said Mother, addressing the speaker-girl, “this is Michael,” she said, introducing us. “Michael… Maricell.”

She reached her right hand toward me slowly, as if afraid. I did the same and just as our palms touched, a titter of sound came from her and she jumped back.

“So shy,” said Mother, touching her shoulder gently. “Could you do me a favor and get my bag? It’s on the door of my trailer. Hurry! I have something for my son.”

Maricell’s eyes lit as though happy to do something for me. She turned and ran off.

“We’ll drink a toast,” said Mason, raising his cane. “We’ll drink a grand toast. We’ll drink to rebirth! To reincarnation. To resurrection. We’re all saved by our brother, the golden dancer.” The way he said it, so large and dramatically, I imagined he wanted to put it on their sign.

“Who’s your friend?” asked Mother.

I introduced Walter.

“Hello, Michael Rivers’ mother,” he said bowing and then glancing toward my Loop car as if afraid it had left.

“I’m so glad you came,” she said, touching him on the cheek and making him flinch. “I’m glad my son has friends.”

Walter giggled uncomfortably.

“Mother,” I whispered, “I have something to tell you.”

Maricell, the speaker-girl, returned. She was out of breath and her nostrils flared as she breathed in and out. The skin beneath her nose was scarred, and I wondered what sort of an accident it had been. Handing a ratskin purse to Mother, Maricell gazed at me and began singing again. The song was haunting and eerily familiar. And as she sang, she gazed at me with so much hope, I had to look away, pretend to scrape mud from my shoes, because I knew I was going soon and figured that would disappoint her terribly.

“These are my last three today,” whispered Mother, as she rooted around in her bag. Meanwhile, others began singing with the speaker-girl. “I can get more. Don’t worry. Does your friend need any?”

“No,” I said.

Walter held out his hand. “Two for me, please!”

Mother eyed him and placed one in each of our palms. Walter tossed his into his mouth and crunched it with glee. I hid mine in a secret pocket inside my jacket.

A woman, with skin that looked like scrambled eggs, stepped toward me. She touched my face gently, and then ran away just as quickly.

“Ari,” cried Mother. “Come and say hello.” She stopped five feet away, but wouldn’t return. “Don’t mind them,” said Mother. “They didn’t believe that you’d come.” Her eyes got watery. “I didn’t even know if I really believed. But you’re here! Sweet, Michael, you’ve found the truth.”

“Yes,” I said, swallowing hard. “The truth is, I have plans for tonight.”

“We all have plans!” she said, as if this were what she had longed to hear. As tears began down her face, she said, “We can have our future together.”

Behind, I saw several of them bringing out a long table and chairs as if we were going to have some sort of a feast right out in the open. Others brought trays of what looked like roasted rats piled on metal plates. Mason directed everyone with his cane.

Mother kissed me on the cheek. “You’re home. I’m so glad you’re with your family.”

I owed it to her to tell her about my plans for the show, but the way she had stressed your and now gazed intently at me, I asked, “My family?”

Turning, she looked at the others, who were all laughing, joking, and smiling, I felt they might never have been happier. “Before you came along,” she said, “your father had trouble producing healthy children. He had more than six thousand with all sorts of women. Most didn’t survive.” She hugged me to her. “You were the best and the prettiest boy,” she continued. “Even so,” she waved toward the others with her left hand, “you needed lots of pieces from your siblings.”

Sixteen

They sat me in the middle of the worn wooden table as if I were the guest of honor. Above, they had strung dozens of LEDs that glowed like tiny red planets. The speaker-girl handed me a tall stemmed glass filled with a clear, yellowish drink.

“Corn wine,” she said, her eyes filled with happy tears.

I put it to my lips but just pretended to drink as I watched them talk, laugh, and make a dozen hopeful toasts. “What do you mean pieces?”

“To fix what was wrong. You were deformed, like the rest.”

“From now on,” announced Mason, who had climbed atop his chair, “we’ll be allowed inside the families’ cities. We’ll put on shows for them.” He spun his cane in his hand and laughed as though he were drunk. “We can raise our ticket prices a hundred times. We’ll get new tents. Better trucks. And new costumes for everyone.”

After she poured for the others, the speaker-girl sat across from me. While they drank and celebrated, she stared at me as if she couldn’t believe I existed. The man with the enormous genitals pointed at her.

“Sing, Maricell! Sing for our brother!”

She stood and did so. For the longest time, I couldn’t place the song, and then I knew. It was her version of Adjoining Tissue. Only her odd, beautiful, and sad voice made the song poignant and