The Nirvana Blues (85 page)

Bam baddle bam bam … bam
bam!

“But you knew I was flawed. You knew I was weak. You've already tolerated a slew of nonsensical shenanigans, asthma attacks, infidelity, and humiliating mockery. You can't just pull the rug out from underneath when the going gets tough. I thought one trait metaphysical people cultivated was a profound understanding of human nature.”

“That's true. But you pulled a stunt out there worthy of a truly sadistic person. I have never been so shocked or humiliated. It's as if
I
deliberately transported you out there to ruin the ceremony.”

“You can't believe that. It was an emotional accident. Nobody's gonna blame you.”

“Blame isn't the point—I already said that. It's just that I feel so, so silly for having trusted you.…”

“Listen, Nancy, you're a lovely person, a staunch ally. I mean it. I've really enjoyed being with you this past week. Making love has been funky and wonderful. I'm amazed at your ability to uphold your own goodwill against such heavy odds. I don't want us to be enemies.”

“Who said anything about enemies?”

Bam baddle bam bam … bam
bam!

“But it sounds as if you're saying good-bye.”

“I'm not saying good-bye in the larger sense. But I guess I am in the more intimate sense.”

“The intimate sense being…?”

Sasha's face, upside down, appeared in the center of the front windshield.

“I don't want to make love anymore. I don't want us to be connected in other than a, you know, a social acquaintanceship. I give up on trying to incorporate you into my life. I finally realized today that you don't want it, and I certainly can't make you want it. In a sense, I've been very selfish. I wanted so much for you to conform to this image I have of a valid set of priorities for governing one's existence—but my set isn't yours, and vice versa. Thus it's very egotistical and self-seeking of me to pursue the matter.”

“You don't think that maybe, with patience, we could grow to understand and value each other?”

“I don't think I have enough patience for the task.”

“What about me? I mean, you're not exactly a flawless human being, you know.”

“That I'll admit. I'm riddled with flaws.”

Sasha's face, upside down, appeared in the middle of the driverside window.

“So we're on similar terrain. Maybe we could really be good for each other.”

“Mmm. Like—where else but in the sack?”

“Like today. I mean, the altercation with Egon was unfortunate, but aside from that, I learned something. It was gratifying.”

“What did you learn?”

“All those people—well, they didn't seem threatening.” Was he really saying this? How come she seemed not to peg his insincerity? “They seemed like okay folks. Some of my harsher prejudices were tempered radically, just from the mood, the brotherly atmosphere.”

“I noticed that it really soaked in.” Her sarcasm came as a surprise: she hadn't utilized it before.

“No, seriously. I apologize.” Those infernal tingles grew stronger. Lust settled into the old gutbucket, bound and determined to give him a final shot at her. Again, Joe placed one hand against her neck; this time she did not flinch. “I wish you could just forget about Egon. What can I do or say to make it up to you?” Cautiously, his fingertips massaged her skin. Sasha's face, upside down, appeared in the middle of the passengerside front window.

“It's no good, Joe. There's too much real and psychic distance between us.”

“I don't get it. You spend a whole week tolerating my every transgression in order to break down barriers between us, then all of a sudden the going gets a wee bit tough and you fold like a lily-livered coward. I thought you were strong.”

“I'm not really as strong as I may occasionally appear to be. Granted, I've made progress over the years. But I'm still fragile, as anybody could see this afternoon during your karate demonstration. Ohh, that feels nice. Apply pressure a little higher. I've got a headache and that might help.”

“Here?”

“Yes … that's wonderful. Oh Joe,” she said unhappily, “when you touch me I melt.”

“If we humans could only keep our mouths shut.…”

Sasha's head disappeared. A faint slithering occurred overhead.

“Mmm … gosh that's good.” She twisted her neck, responding to his massage, and tilted back her head. Joe smoothed the fabulous skin of her throat.

“There … It's not all that bad, is it?”

“And how…” Then she stiffened a trifle, remembering. “Joe, will you do me a favor?”

“Sure. Of course. Anything you want, my love.”

“Well, I really can't ever again go through something like that scene at the Hanuman this afternoon. So if…” She failed to complete the thought.

“So if what?”

“Oh, it doesn't make sense. Forget it.”

Joe slipped down his hand, cupping one breast. “Try me. ‘So if' what?”

“Well, if, you know. If we were to try and be together some more, I just think, I just feel…”

“Go on,” he prompted, ready to butcher, thoroughly aroused, and confident she was also.

“I mean, I really couldn't take another scene like that, Joe. I know I'm pretty strong, but you've caused me a lot of anguish in the past few days, and I'm honestly freaked out. It's as if, for some utterly preposterous reason, I've chosen to further my spiritual growth by hooking up with a Fascist.”

“A Fascist?
Me?
”

She pouted. “Well, I'm not accustomed to being as manipulated in a relationship as I have been with you. I don't seem to have much of a say at all in how we are together, when we can be together, what we can share together.”

“Uh, not to contradict, but fascism isn't exactly my bag.”

“No…?”

Nobody had ever called him a Fascist before. Or had they? The epithet hurt; it triggered a faint queasiness. Probably he deserved it. Then he accepted it. Of course he was a Fascist. And this thing he was about to do to her would be tantamount to rape.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered contritely. “I guess I have been a shit-heel. But you don't understand how truly I … I love you.”

“Oh gee, Joe … do you really mean it?”

As Joe caressed her breasts, Sasha slid down the front windshield, then backed up against it, pressed his obscene little buttocks against the glass, and began to take a smeary shit. Joe watched, fascinated, while continuing to fondle Nancy. She unleashed a flutter of sweet, hiccoughing moans. When next she spoke, however, she seemed clearheaded and in control. “Let's suppose, just for the sake of argument, that we keep up our relationship.”

“I hope we do,” the weasel whispered insipidly into her ear. “I want us to love each other forever.”

Wiggling his buttocks in a rotary fashion, Sasha smeared all across the windshield the brown pancake that had emerged from his wiry body.

Nancy squirmed. “Well, before we make love again, I think you need to reach some very important decisions about how you feel about me.”

Both his fraudulent hands were at work now. While his counterfeit lips nuzzled her neck, he tugged up her skirt, spreading her white thighs. He rubbed light circles around the silky crotch of her pink briefs. Hands raised over her head, Nancy caressed his ears. Joe murmured, “All right,” and lifted his hands, crushing her breasts. “What sort of decisions did you have in mind?”

Nancy groaned and arched. Her eyes had shut. Joe probed her mouth with a couple of fingers. She sucked hungrily, then gasped. “Well, first of all you should decide who's more valuable to you—me, or your wife and family. As long as you're intimate with Heidi, I doubt it could work with us.”

Slurring deliberately (huskily), the mealymouthed Janus said, “Come into the back seat. I have to make love with you.…”

Nancy swung one leg over the passengerside seatback. Joe scooped an arm under and around her waist, hoisting her into the back. Sasha turned around and began to fingerpaint in his windshield excrement. Their lips locked in a passionate kiss. The rest of their limbs were tangled in cramped quarters. Her knee landed painfully in his groin. Joe said, “Ouch, wait a sec. Can you shift over that way a little? This is awkward.”

Her hot breath almost fogging his eyes, Nancy said, “I've always been a one-man woman, and I really believe that's the only way a relationship can work out. This past week, whenever you've been with Heidi, or Diana, or even whatshername—the Romanian fan dancer—I can always tell, because your relationship with them gets in the way of our time together. I can feel you reacting to me as if I were one of them, but I'm not. And so naturally I resent it.”

Joe lurched—painfully—working to unzip his fly. Grunting, he tried to muscle her around so that they were not pinned tightly against each other. He strained, pushing and pulling. She said, “Wait a minute, my leg is wedged down there. Can you move a little that way?—there, that's better.”

A cramp hit his twisted calf. “Ow! Nancy! Raise your ass a second, would you? My foot is pinned … listen, can you shift over to my other side … maybe if I could somehow work on top of you…”

“Okay. But there isn't much space in here … is that better?”

“It's not too bad.” Passionately, their lips remet. Sasha was creating a Kandinskiesque work of art on the windshield. Though his arm was painfully bent at the elbow, Joe twisted a hand between her legs, applying a few more erotic softeners. Nancy pressed against him sideways, one leg caught pincerlike in a space between the two front seats. Her other leg was caught under his right leg: her thigh levered painfully up between his legs, squashing one testicle. Diana's gun jabbed into his groin. Joe shifted to ease the pain; she cried, “Ouch! Your elbow is killing me!”

“I'm sorry, but I can't move it. I'm trapped. Can you swivel your left arm over there? That'd give me room, maybe, to slip around on top of you.”

“I can't. You've got my left leg pinned.”

“Okay, wait a minute, we can figure this out.” Joe kissed her, tasting salt: both of them were sweating profusely. He probed inside her with two fingers until she wriggled. Then he broke another lascivious kiss to suggest a variation on their contortions.

“Listen, do the front seats move at all? Let's tip them forward.”

“Only the driver's side—but I can't reach the release lever.”

“Maybe if I tug you around on top of me. That'd free my left arm and I could reach up there and grab it.”

“Like this?”

“Yeah, uh-huh, easy does it … fine …
no!
Ow!”

“Oh God, what?”

“You're killing my knee! Back off! No, not that way, the other way!
The other way, dammit!
There! Oh Jesus, you almost killed me.”

“Can you lift your rump?” she pleaded politely. “It's squashing my other hand.”

“I can't. I got no leverage. You're crushing my chest … I can't breathe.”

“There's no room to move around back here,” she complained. “How did we ever get into such a fix?”

Another typical symbol of my life, Joe thought. No doubt, God had decided to end his adventure trapped in the back of a VW Beetle, inadvertently locked in a double-pretzel even the most agile contortionists would admire. Somehow, attempting to perpetrate a final sexual swindle in the confined space, Joe had managed to tie himself up, in a foolproof knot, with the object of his lust. These headlines would top them all:

CHAMISAVILLE GARBAGE MAN AND METAPHYSICIAN EXPIRE IN BACK
OF BEETLE! HUMAN PRETZEL PROVES FATAL TO GUINNESS RECORD
ASPIREES. SUICIDE IN A BUG: SENSUALISTS MEET TWISTED FATE
.

Pilgrims would travel thousands of miles to laugh on his grave. Mortified, his children would seek anonymity by exiling themselves to Lithuania. Their coffin—for of course he and Nancy would have to be buried together—would resemble a large cube with sputniklike extensions poking out all over to accommodate their haphazardly jutting limbs. Once rigor mortis set in, would the authorities even be able to dislodge them from the car? Or would they wind up painting the Beetle black, taping a rose and silver dollar to the front hood, and lowering the car into a large hole by means of an enormous construction crane?

Joe groaned, “I'm wedged in tight, I can't reach the knob.”

“Well, you have to move, otherwise I can't free my leg and change positions.”

“But if you don't move first, Heidi, I can't get any leverage to change positions.”

“My name isn't Heidi.”

“I mean Nancy.” Sasha chattered excitedly: fevered and animated, he continued to expand his excremental masterpiece.

“What I was talking to you about,” Nancy said resolutely, “is I think anybody else that you're having a simultaneous relationship with intrudes on all other relationships you have. Your energy becomes so dispersed, you really can't give any one person you're involved with the attention an honest relationship needs. So if we continue being together, you really have to at least stop screwing the other women you've been screwing.”

“Nancy, we're stuck, we can't move.”

“I know.”

“I'm uncomfortable as hell. I can't breathe. I hate confined spaces. I feel dizzy. I think I'm gonna faint. Can't you shift a little?”

“Only like this…”

“No …
no!
Christ, you'll break my knee!”

“Then I don't know what to do.”

“How the hell did this happen?”

“You wanted to make love.”

“You did too.”

“Yes, I did too. We both did.”

“I want out,” Joe hissed threateningly. “I'm beginning to get hysterical.”