The Savage Girl - Alex Shakar [133]
Ivy turns to face her, eyes shining with anticipation.
“Not yet,” Ursula admits. “I’d like to, though. It seems like a nice thing to remember.”
Ivy nods understandingly, then turns back to the camera.
“This is very important,” she says. “Look deep into your souls and try to remember the old ways. We were a great tribe, living in harmony with the land. Try to remember. You’ve been hypnotized, but try to remember, and try to bring back the old ways. They’ll try to stop you. They’ll give you money and they’ll take away the money. They’ll give you fame and they’ll take away the fame. They’ll keep doing it over and over. They’ll keep you spinning and make you dizzy. But we were a great tribe. We need to forget about all this and go back, go back home where we belong. If we all get together and decide to go back, there’s nothing they can do to stop us. There won’t be anything they can do then.”
Ivy falls silent for a minute.
“OK,” she says in Ursula’s ear. “I’m done.”
Ursula takes a breath. “OK, Ivy. What now?”
Ivy scratches her head. “I dunno. How about some Kentucky Fried Chicken? There’s one just around the corner. You wanna?”
“OK.”
Ivy gets up. “I should put on some pants, I guess.” She reaches under the bed, grabs a pair of jeans, and shuffles herself into them, pulling them up and rolling them down at the waist. She steps into a pair of sneakers and bends over again to squeeze her heels in.
“We’re gonna need money,” Ivy says. “You got any?”
Ursula laughs, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “You’re standing ankle-deep in twenty-dollar bills.”
“Oh, this stuff? This isn’t real.”
Ivy sounds just assured enough for Ursula to doubt herself and take a second look. The bills are entirely regular, as impossible to impersonate as lifelong acquaintances. Their smell is unmistakable, overwhelming, and now that she’s focused on it, even sickening.
“Don’t worry, Ivy,” she replies. “I’ve got enough.”
The two of them walk to the door hand in hand, and Ivy undoes the locks. Just beside the spot where Ursula stands, a candle burns on a tall silver holder next to a thermos bottle lying in its plate of powder. Ivy opens the door, and without looking down, Ursula swings out her step a little wide and knocks over the candle. She hears the satisfying whoosh of flame behind her as she follows Ivy out.
Gift
I saw a woman flirting with a bearded academic on the subway,” Chas says, his voice made even drier and more acerbic through the phone connection. “Told him she had a thing for cunning linguists.” He gives her a deadpan look, his eyes rimmed with redness behind the thick, smudged pane of glass.
“I saw a woman wearing baby socks as earmuffs,” Ursula replies.
Chas considers this for a moment, tossing the phone receiver from hand to hand.
“I saw a bum try to lick a frozen candy apple he found in the snow,” he says, running a thumb and forefinger over the stubble to either side of his goatee. “His tongue got stuck to it.”
Ursula toys with the cord of her phone. “I saw a bald bodybuilder look suspiciously from side to side before displaying his vintage Pez dispenser to a friend,” she says.
Chas laughs to himself, an almost silent rasp.
“Which dispenser?” he asks.
“Goofy. Why?”
He shrugs. “No reason, no reason. Just curious.”
The little booths stretch across the room. To either side of her women sit talking over the phones to their husbands, brothers, fathers, sons.
“They’re letting you out, Chas,” she says. “There’s nothing they can do. No one’s testifying.”
Chas seems unimpressed by the news. “Figured as much.”
“They’re not bringing charges against Ivy, either,” Ursula says.
“Or you?”
She shrugs. “They reviewed the footage and