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The Savage Girl - Alex Shakar [85]

By Root 501 0
following him through the rooms. The place doesn’t look messy at all. On the contrary, it looks completely unused. But his study, when he leads her into it, tells a different story. She sees, with a sudden shock followed by a pang of remorse, that the elaborate trend chart that used to cover the walls has been totally undone. The magazine clippings, notes, graphs, sketches, and bits of colored fabric now cover the floor, and the walls themselves have been plucked bare save for bristling pins, staples, pieces of tape, and the ragged corners of paper still clinging to them. The only remaining element of the chart is the words written in gold Magic Marker, still floating high up by the molding:

The Light Age

The long worktable, the room’s only piece of furniture, has been turned on its side, and the tabletop now forms the side wall of a kind of tent Javier has made by draping a comforter from the upper edge diagonally down over a twin mattress laid on the floor alongside it. A faint, musical murmur emanates from beneath the blanket, as well as a modulating glow. Outside the tent, strewn among the remnants of the chart, lie several torn-open mail-order envelopes and computer-game boxes; dozens of empty cans that once contained soup, Spaghetti-Os, and franks and beans; and an equal number of plastic bowls and plastic spoons encrusted with the dried residue of his meals, which were cooked, evidently, on the hot plate sitting beside an electrical outlet in the corner by the door. The room is windowless, and the air, while not quite foul, is heady and sickly sweet.

“Maybe I spoke too soon about that Board of Health thing,” she says, desperate to keep things light. But Javier remains expressionless. Without looking at her he takes a breath, then slowly gets down on his hands and knees and crawls inside his tent through a flap at the foot of the mattress.

Ursula looks around the room helplessly for a moment.

“Javier,” she says, dropping to her knees. “Can I come in?”

He doesn’t respond. She pokes her head through the flap and finds him on his back, with his head propped on a couple of pillows and his long, unshaven face angled toward a computer monitor propped on more pillows beside her at his feet. There’s just enough space to squeeze inside between the monitor and the tabletop wall. She kicks off her shoes and maneuvers herself in alongside him, moving a joystick out of the way and claiming an unused corner of his pillow for her head. On the screen at the other end the computer plays with itself, running a three-dimensional maze to the tinny sound of an endlessly repeating action-adventure sound track. Every so often an enemy soldier appears, at which point the top of a shotgun barrel rises from the bottom of the screen, a ragged red hole appears in the falling soldier’s chest, and the maze-running resumes. Ursula’s stockinged feet charge with the static electricity of the screen, and her heart fills with the palpable misery emanating from each of Javier’s slightly labored exhalations. She can barely bring herself to speak, but she feels that if she doesn’t, the misery will suffocate them both.

“You took down your chart,” she says.

Javier attempts a horizontal shrug, bony shoulders bunching.

“Why?” she asks.

He stares at the screen, furrowing his brow. “Tried to . . . just . . . work backward. . . . Figure out where I went wrong.”

He speaks with difficulty, as though each word has to be unlocked from its own cabinet. She can feel the warmth of his arm against hers and the low straining of his voice resonating in her spine.

“Did you figure it out?”

He nods faintly. The smell of his sweat is slightly acrid, slightly sweet, and not unpleasant. Being this close to him is an almost unbearable reminder of the physical intimacy they used to have. She resists the urge to press herself against him, to rub the life back into him any way she can.

“So? Where did you go wrong?” she asks.

The screenlight illuminates the cords of his stubbled neck, his Adam’s apple climbing into his chin and falling back as he swallows.

“It’s a

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