The Love Makers by Aifric Campbell

Author:Aifric Campbell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MIT Press
Published: 2021-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

What sweetness is left in life, if you take away friendship? Robbing life of friendship is like robbing the world of the sun.

(Cicero, On Friendship, 44 BCE)

‘After all that Blane was real shook up,

took off like a bullet on the road, the snow was coming down hard and fast. Slow down, I told him, you’re just gonna draw attention to us driving like that. So he slowed, breathing hard through his teeth. Smacking the wheel. Going, fuck her. Fuck you, Gurl. I sit real still, try to stop crying and sniffing but these big fat tears just keep on coming.

‘You stupid bitch. You told me she was a he!

‘I’m sorry, babe.

‘If you hadna said she was a man.

‘I know it’s my fault, I tell him. I was pissed at you, just winding you up.

‘She’s real tall, says Blane, thinking out loud. But what if someone saw?

‘Ain’t no one out here to see.

‘Tyre prints –

‘Look at this snowstorm, I tell him. Can’t see more than a coupla yards.

‘They know who she is from the rental.

‘Someone’s gotta find her first to know anything about anything. She’ll be under a white blanket by now.

‘And all the while I’m trying not to think of how Scarlett’s blood looked black not red, leaking from her side.

‘What you know about her? says Blane.

‘Nothing.

‘You were in the goddam car for three hours, Gurl, so don’t give me shit.

‘Bitsa nothing. Girl chat is all, I say. No way I’m telling him about Scarlett and Gurl, the stories, Frankdaddy, or Fintan. No point making her more real. What’s done is done.

‘Snow swilling on the glass and Blane gripping that wheel like he will rip it from the floor.

‘Course, I shoulda guessed. That’s the trouble when you start dreaming. You forget to remember what you know. I mean, I know Blane. I could reboot and restart him and he’d still come out exactly as I expected. An act of provocation is what it was. Shoulda known how he was thinking. I did a stupid thing cos I was pissed at him for not caring. For not picking me up from the train; for everything else, too. Coulda, woulda, shoulda.

‘Fuck you, Gurl. Look what you made me go and do. He punches the dash so hard he hurts his hand, he slams the brakes, then he’s right in my face; his skin is yellow in the dark like he’s sickly. I oughtta beat the shit outta you, Gurl, he grabs my neck and slaps my face, cracks it real hard across the jaw.

‘I am dizzy from the pain, but I tell him, no, Blane, we gotta get away, and he remembers, sees the snow banking up on the glass.

‘We’re gonna go home, I tell him, trying to hold my calm, though my face is a burning swelling hellfire. We’re gonna get in bed and we’re gonna make it alright.

‘We didn’t see a single person all the way back. The snow kept up, there wouldn’t be no traces. Can you even imagine

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