Gods go begging by Alfredo Véa

Author:Alfredo Véa
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Vietnam War, Lawyers, Vietnamese Conflict, Vietnamese, Fiction, Literary, 1961-1975, War & Military, Military, General, History
ISBN: 9780452281158
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2000-09-07T10:00:00+00:00

8

the ballet rose

“Let’s go up,” said Jesse, who had just caught the syrup, salt, and acid scent of death. The breeze had shifted and carried the horrid odor southward. He recognized it immediately and reflexively held his breath. Almost thirty years had passed and still it smelled precisely the same. It smelled like boys that he had once known; people like Roosky and Cornelius. It had the odor of his dreams. He stopped holding his breath, inhaled deeply to honor his old friends, then started the long climb toward the buildings.

“Are you kidding?” asked Eddy, who suddenly seemed very nervous. “You can’t just go waltzing up there. That’s Tourette’s Hill. Haven’t you heard the stories about that place? Why they call it Tourette’s Hill? If that place gets a grip on you, you’ll wind up doing an armed robbery in Pacific Heights or a drive-by shooting in the Fillmore. Then it’ll be sayonara and goodbye to your law practice.”

Jesse searched Eddy’s face for some trace of sarcasm or humor. There was none. Eddy was deadly serious.

“The word is that the paramedics and ambulance drivers from San Francisco General Hospital came up with that name: Tourette’s Hill. The closer you get to the top of this terrain, the less control you’ll have over your faculties, your senses, even your conscience. More often than not, whenever there’s an emergency out here they’ve had to send a second ambulance crew to rescue the first. Even pizza delivery won’t come up here.”

“I’ll bet you Giles de la Tourette never had a place like this in mind,” said Jesse, laughing at Eddy’s words. There was a grin of smug skepticism on his face when he stepped under the yellow tape onto the road that led to the first row of projects. Eddy shook his head, then followed closely behind, his beard quivering with worry and expectation.

As they reached the first intersection, Jesse began to feel that a sharp, involuntary twitch had developed in his right hand. It began as a small tug on his wrist muscles but soon grew into a violent, twitching spasm that contorted the muscles of his upper arm. Jesse gritted his teeth and grabbed his right hand with his left. No matter how much force he exerted he was unable to control it.

Suddenly the word “shit” burst from his tensed lips, then “motherfucker!” Jesse had no idea what impulse might have prompted those words. He had not been angry, or even excited. The words seemed to have no connection whatsoever to his aching wrist. Behind him he saw Eddy doubled over and laughing knowingly, his own left arm convulsing uncontrollably.

“Shit, I told you,” said Eddy, stuttering as he tried to resist the impulse to curse. “First you get these involuntary tics, then hundreds and hundreds of goddamn words drop from your motherfucking vocabulary like so many flakes of dandruff. Then you get the overwhelming urge to wear huge tennis shoes and sell drugs. Fuck, if we’re going to talk about this, we have to go back down the hill a little fucking distance.

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