The Lucky Star by William T. Vollmann

Author:William T. Vollmann
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2020-02-17T16:00:00+00:00

Thirst

Therefore, if I may not draw from the fullness of the Fountain, nor fully quench my thirst, I will yet place my lips to this heavenly spring, and receive some drops to allay my thirst.

THOMAS À KEMPIS, ca. 1413

Jesus said, “He who will drink from my mouth will become like me.”

“THE GOSPEL OF THOMAS,” ca. 2nd cent.

1

And so they disembarked from the island ferry; he had chewed or choked down all his medications but was in a bad way, leaning on her and biting his lip to keep from groaning while she wheeled their one suitcase down the gangplank. It was high tide. The transwoman had begged him to bring her here. Neva’s sealskin pouch had supplied the money, so actually Judy was bringing him. She still believed in happily ever afters.

They walked three blocks and checked in at the Grey Goose Lodge, an establishment recommended by Neva: ninety-six dollars a night; he cursed and shook his wobbling head. Now he needed to lie down. She had already unpacked the “value”-sized bottle of Old Crow and was hanging up her skirts and blouses in the closet when someone tapped briskly on the door. It was the chambermaid, proffering a complimentary naturopathic incense candle.—What crap, said the retired policeman. The chambermaid looked sad, so the transwoman said: Please, J. D., let her come in and . . .—Her lover lay wheezing angrily.

Shall I? said the chambermaid.

I guess so, said Judy. I mean, it sounds really nice. I don’t know anything about pressure points and chakras and all that . . .

The chambermaid, who was tall, slender and old, with long white hair loose on her shoulders, came very quietly in. She said: I can set it up by the bed, or over there by the window—

Keep it the fuck away from me, gasped the retired policeman.

Then is right here by the window okay? What do you think, ma’am?

Thrilled to have been addressed so kindly, the transwoman nodded. The chambermaid flitted out to her hall cart and returned with a brass candle holder whose base was an ovoid dish studded all around with nipples. From the center of this peculiarity rose an anatomically detailed vertebral column supporting three horizontal rings engraved with yohni symbols. Down through the rings the woman now slid a dark candle, unevenly brown, with long pale fibers showing through the wax. She lit it.

That smells really high-class, said Judy. There’s something familiar and something . . .

Local herbs, said the chambermaid.

The strange perfume filled the room.

J. D., is it bothering you? asked the transwoman, but he did not answer.

Oh, she said. He’s asleep.

He’ll stay asleep as long as he needs to, said the chambermaid. That’s witch’s mallow. No male thing can resist it.

What is this? What are you doing?

Neva told us about you. Reba’s waiting.

I can’t! I won’t leave my boyfriend. What are you doing to him? I’m calling the police—

Judy, asked the woman, do you love Neva?

I—yes.

Does she love you?

Yes.

Do you believe in her?

I—

Then believe in yourself! You’re awake, aren’t you? That proves you’re female.

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