and crumbling friezes.
As the car slowed before the garage, I could see attendants, cooks, maids, and workers running toward us. Some were wailing and crying as if I were a coffin containing myself. They clustered around the car, and as I exited, I said, “Thank you. I’m fine. I’m fine, everyone.”
Joelene jumped in front to shield me as a tall orange family satin with a golden visor subdued a maid who was tearing off her clothes to expose a complicated set of sharp-looking bands and wires across her chest and crotch. “I’m the one, Michael. It’s me. I’m the one who really loves you!”
Years ago, when I danced, I told myself I enjoyed these hopeless displays, like the time an army of teenage girls, dressed in lanolin wools, marched up from the valley, surrounded the compound and demanded all my dancing outfits, toiletries, shaven hairs, and a week’s worth of excretions. Now, all of it embarrassed me. As the woman was taken away, Joelene and I hurried in the other direction to my building.
Before my heart attack, my house had been rather like an enormous egg carton inside, with a dozen different rooms. The floors of each room were speaker heads and the place reverberated day and night with heavy bone- jarring thuds and squealing highs. Besides the music, each room was decorated with a theme, like the blinding red light room and the dead lamb room. When I demanded to be taken from the PartyHaus to somewhere quiet and dim, the place had been gutted. Over time, I had decorated and now it had polished muslin walls, black iron floor tiles, and just a few upholstered pieces sat here and there. Two surveillance cameras, little more than black bugs, were mounted on the walls. And while they were there for my safety, I had positioned my bed, desk, and couch out of their range.
Once we were inside and Joelene had shut the cast-iron front door, I felt like I wanted to get in bed and bury myself beneath a hundred layers of wool. I started toward my bed only to jump back in surprise. My mother lay there.
She was a few years younger than father and had at least as much surgery, but seemed older. Her skin was dark and had a leathery quality. Last time I saw her, a year ago, her hair had been long, straight, and hung to her waist. This time it was frizzed like a giant tumble weed and dyed a hundred different colors. Her robe of a dress looked like something a cavewoman would wear. Made of a patchwork of small tanned pelts, I could see tiny rat claws here and there. The bones in her face were beautiful and proud, but now she looked like a former beauty queen who had been forced to fend for herself in the wilderness.
While I felt bad for her, and I had tried not to let Father’s poisoned opinion influence me, I distrusted her. Every time I saw her, she wanted something. And not just that, but she always got shrill and hysterical like her generation.
“Thank goodness you’re ok!” she said, as she leaped up and came toward me with open arms. “You have to leave,” she said, as she hugged me. She smelled of barbecue smoke and soap. “Leave before it’s too late.”
“Mrs. Rivers-Zssne,” said Joelene, pulling Mother’s arms from me. “I don’t believe you’re authorized to be here today.”
Mother stepped back and glared at my advisor with her wide, fearsome sage-colored eyes. “I am!”
“May I see your pass, please?”
“A mother needs a pass to come and hug her son! And to think that we were supposed to be the perfect family. What a lie it all was!”
“Regardless,” said Joelene, smiling stiffly, “I must see your pass.”
As embarrassed as I felt for my mother, my advisor was right—especially after a terrible security breach.
While glaring at me as if this were my doing, Mother pulled a card from her pouch. Somehow she’d been able to bend the hard plastic. After straightening the crease, Joelene checked her screens. “It
“I spoke to his father,” said Mother, trilling her fingers dismissively. “He said I could have a word with my poor, injured son.”
Joelene handed back the pass. “No disrespect, but you did not speak directly to his father, and we are extremely busy. Additionally, I would advise you to hurry if you want to, wisely, avoid Mr. Rivers senior.”
“If you don’t mind!” bristled Mother. “A moment, please.”
Joelene didn’t blink. “If you’re asking to be alone with Michael, I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”
I wanted to tell Joelene that it wasn’t necessary, that I’d be fine, but I knew she wasn’t going to budge. She probably felt responsible for the freeboot’s bullets.
“It’s okay,” I told Mother, “we can talk. She’s family.”
Mother’s face paled; her mouth shrunk to a dot. “Don’t confuse family.
“I feel fine.” I held out my hands with their tiny scars for her to see. “I’m healthy.” I thought that was the answer to the question she hadn’t asked.
Mother wiped her face, glared at Joelene, and hugged me again. I put my arms around her and, up close, I could see that a multitude of tiny metal and glass charms had been woven into her rainbow hair: birds, hearts, aphids, cars, sunglasses, phalluses, and what looked like a tiny caribou stared back at me.
“You really must leave,” she said, sniffing. “It’s not good here. It’s all about the wrong things, and your father uses everyone and anyone he can. Look what’s happened to you.” She took my left hand in hers and rubbed my palm with her thumbs.
“It was a random breach. I’m perfectly fine.” The words came off my tongue too easily and I regretted that I was, after two minutes, trying to appease her so she’d leave.
“Come with me,” she whispered. “Come be part of Tanoshi No Wah.”
“Ma’am,” said Joelene, stiffly, “please.”
“We live honestly, and we’re not ashamed,” continued Mother. “We show ourselves. And I’d love for you to see who you really are.”
“Please,” said Joelene, raising her voice.
“The families and their laws are pollution to the human spirit. They’re all hypocrites! We’re trying to do what’s right.”
“Mrs. Rivers, we’re late for an appointment!”
“Think about it, Michael. You’re not part of this anymore. You’ve changed from the beast you were. Change a little more, and you’ll see what I mean. Come with me.”
I couldn’t imagine her life in the slubs, eating grilled rats, living in tents. In the shows, she sang, stripped nude, and ate fire, I’d heard. “I found someone.” I said, not sure if she knew of Nora. “I’m in love.”
She shook her head frantically, but one of the charms in her hair spun around and hit her on the nose. “Trust me,” she said, grimacing and rubbing the spot. “There’s nothing to love in the families. They’re evil and ruthless. They’re all dead lumps of stolen flesh! Come with me. You need to find your real family.”
By now, Joelene’s face turned red. “Mrs. Rivers, I’m warning you!”
“Please, Michael!” She put her hands on my shoulders. “It’s time you came home. They’re waiting. They adore you. And you’d make such a lovely addition. You could dance with us.”
That was the worse thing she could have suggested. “Mother,” I said, squirming away. “You know I don’t dance anymore.”
“Fine!” she said, angrily. “Don’t dance!”
“It’s time for you to go,” said Joelene.
Mother combed her hair from her face and regained her composure. “I always thought you would be a poet. A lovely poet. But you don’t have to do anything in the show. You could be my assistant. Wouldn’t that be nice? You could hold my clothes while I strip.”
“Mother!” I said, flummoxed. “I don’t want to perform. I don’t want you doing it either!”
“Mrs. Rivers,” said Joelene, wedging herself between us. “Leave now, or I’ll be forced to call security.”
“Michael, come and find out who you are.”
“That’s it!” Joelene pushed mother backward. “You must go now.”
“How dare you touch me! You’re just like all of them. You’re sucking his blood. You’re just using his talent and fame!” Mother had that crazy look in her eyes. A second later she clenched her fists and lunged at Joelene as if
