His hand tapped the packing boxes lying on the bed, but he couldn’t see them. He saw nothing but the light rippling and forming the image of the man sitting there under the covers, and then he was gone, and then he was there. Julien was trying to get out of bed… No, get away from me.
Smell of chemicals, rotten dirt in those jars. He had seen it last night, he had told him, but now he had to see it, didn’t he? And touch it. Touch Marguerite’s dirty jars. He’d smelled it last night when he’d come to find Townsend’s body, only it wasn’t the corpse. His hand on the railing, he caught a glimpse of Rowan with the lamp in hand. Rowan angry and miserable and trying to get away from the old woman, who was beating her with words, meanness, and then the black woman with her dust and a carpenter putting a glass in this window that looked out on the roof. God, this is an awful smell up here, lady. Just do your job. Deirdre’s bedroom, screams of other voices, rising to a peak, then washed away and another wave coming. And the door, the door straight ahead, someone is laughing, a man speaking French, what he says, let me hear a separate word, the stench is from behind.
What do you want from me;
Get those skirts away from me She looked so much like nuns.
She turned and walked past Rowan, pulling her hand away as she tried to stop him. Touch the stair post. Flash of a cotton dress passing him, rhythm of footsteps on the old carpet. Someone is screaming, crying.
“Stop don’t you see? They’re waiting, they’re… they’re… there’s a name for it, they’re hovering… earthlings’
The skirts pushed closer to him, mixing voices in French and English. This time he tried to catch Julien. It was like trying to catch a thought, a memory, something that was going through your mind when you were listening to music. His hand was on the little Deborah doll, cramming her into the trunk, the blonde doll falling on top of him. I destroy them.
But where is Deborah? Deborah, you have to tell me… She folded back the cloth, squeezing the younger dolls against each other, they were crying, someone was crying, no, that was the screaming baby in the crib or Antha on the roof. Or both. Flash of Julien again, speaking rapidly in French, on one knee beside him, I can’t understand you. A millisecond and it’s gone. You drive me crazy, what good is it to you or anyone if I’m crazy?
Sail under the sail – where? – easy to tell because there was the oldest one, a simple stick of bone and one above it, Charlotte’s blonde hair, and that meant the frail little thing between them was his Deborah. Tiny beetles scurried underneath as he touched it. His hair was falling apart, oh my God, it was falling apart, even the bones were turning to dust. And in horror, he recoiled. He had left his fingerprint on his bony face. The explosion of a fire caught him, he could smell it. Her whole body crumpled like wax over the fire, and that voice in French ordering him to do something, but what?
But there are the dolls.
What have I done and you won’t tell me
He had thrown the boxes off the bed. He tripped over the books. The dolls, where were the dolls? In the trunk. Julien said that, didn’t he? He said it in French. Laughter, a chorus of laughter. Rustle of skirts around him. Something broke. His knee hit something sharp, but he crawled toward the torso. Latches rusted, no problem, put the cap back on.
She turned and walked past Rowan, pulling her hand away as she tried to stop him. Touch the stair post. Flash of a cotton dress passing him, rhythm of footsteps on the old carpet. Someone is screaming, crying.
And Julien, why didn’t he do something, why did he stand there crying silently, not doing anything. “You can call the devil in hell and the saints in heaven, they won’t help you,” Carlotta said, her voice growling as she climbed out of the window.
He kept it. Mary Beth The strokes of her skirts came against him. if he looked up he would see her looking down. he did see her, there was no limit to what he could see, he could see the backs of their heads as they closed in on him, but nothing would hold steady even for a moment. It was all chatter, and steady for a second and then nothing, the room full of dusty nothingness and crowded to overflowing. Rowan stepped through a rip in the fabric, grabbed him by the arm and in a flash he saw Charlotte, he knew it was Charlotte. Had she touched the doll? He looked down, it was all pork and so fragile on the layer of cheesecloth.
Tottering, lost, Julien stood there, nodding, pointing down at the trunk.
He kept it. Mary Beth The strokes of her skirts came against him. if he looked up he would see her looking down. he did see her, there was no limit to what he could see, he could see the backs of their heads as they closed in on him, but nothing would hold steady even for a moment. It was all chatter, and steady for a second and then nothing, the room full of dusty nothingness and crowded to overflowing. Rowan stepped through a rip in the fabric, grabbed him by the arm and in a flash he saw Charlotte, he knew it was Charlotte. Had she touched the doll? He looked down, it was all pork and so fragile on the layer of cheesecloth.
“Stop don’t you see? They’re waiting, they’re… they’re… there’s a name for it, they’re hovering… earthlings’
But no, first Julien’s room, Julien’s bed. The laughter grew louder, but a baby’s cry was mixed with it, someone stormed up the stairs right behind him. The door gave him Eugenia again, dusting, complaining of the stench, Carlotta’s voice slurring, the words indistinct, and then that awful stain there in the dark where Townsend died, drew his last breath through the hole in carpet and glass. , Julien’s wavering flash The same man, yes, the same man he had seen when he was holding Deirdre’s nightgown, yes, you, Julien, she was staring at him, I see you, and then footsteps run, no, I don’t want to see that, but he reached for the window-sill, seized the little cord of the shade, and ran up, rattling at the top, revealing the dirty panes of the windows.
But no, first Julien’s room, Julien’s bed. The laughter grew louder, but a baby’s cry was mixed with it, someone stormed up the stairs right behind him. The door gave him Eugenia again, dusting, complaining of the stench, Carlotta’s voice slurring, the words indistinct, and then that awful stain there in the dark where Townsend died, drew his last breath through the hole in carpet and glass. , Julien’s wavering flash The same man, yes, the same man he had seen when he was holding Deirdre’s nightgown, yes, you, Julien, she was staring at him, I see you, and then footsteps run, no, I don’t want to see that, but he reached for the window-sill, seized the little cord of the shade, and ran up, rattling at the top, revealing the dirty panes of the windows.
But there are the dolls.
His hand tapped the packing boxes lying on the bed, but he couldn’t see them. He saw nothing but the light rippling and forming the image of the man sitting there under the covers, and then he was gone, and then he was there. Julien was trying to get out of bed… No, get away from me.
And Julien helpless. “I kill, bitch, kill you, I won’t kill you…”
His hand tapped the packing boxes lying on the bed, but he couldn’t see them. He saw nothing but the light rippling and forming the image of the man sitting there under the covers, and then he was gone, and then he was there. Julien was trying to get out of bed… No, get away from me.
