The Sacred Beasts (42 page)

“This brothel was extremely visible, you’d have to say. It was lit
up by so many gaudy neon colors, it made me think of a Gay Pride Day flag. The
land area was as big as an industrial park, and the building itself was like
some awful kitsch chateau. On the inside walls were pornographic paintings, and
it had some cute extra features, like a special room where disabled men in
wheel chairs could be put in a strap and raised up to fuck some woman, who I
assume had better not laugh. I first heard about this place from another gypsy.
He said the international Mafia ran it with eighteen Eastern European women
forced into prostitution. He’d been there a few times and looked around, saw
the barred rooms they kept the women in, knew when there were the fewest thugs
defending the premises. I watched the place from the parking lot for two days,
so I knew the traffic in and out myself. My lover, Libre and I, bought assault
rifles from some men the gypsies know if you know who to ask, so I decided to
liberate the place on Gay Pride Day. I’m proud to be gay, to be woman and even
to be a gypsy. I came from good people. My mother was a great tocaor in Spain,
and my father was a writer. I’m even more proud to have liberated this
piece-of-shit brothel held by the international Mafia that you can more
truthfully just call the global cesspool.

“You, women who see me now, it was a whole lot easier than you’d
ever think! There was a two-hour period in the afternoon when only the big
crime boss’ son was there, and he had just a handgun. The real thugs come in
later in the day, since they have to stay all night, when the customers, scum
at the bottom of a urinal, are there. So, I had nothing more than this slick
little pig to deal with. Oh, he was a lovely little thing; he had the most
expensive black leather jacket I’ve ever seen, a hairdo as primped and styled
as a TV news anchor’s, a smirk on his face and a tough-guy swagger. He was the
boss’ son, the head of some little shit Spanish division of the Mafia. As soon
as I looked that little pig in the eye, I knew he was an abject coward who
would give me anything I asked for to save his useless ass. And so, he did—the
women, the computers, the money in the safe, the women’s passports, everything.
I didn’t want the money. It’s covered with shit like the men who paid it out. I
tossed it all over his wretched body. When his ‘friends’ find him, I bet they
take the money, and he doesn’t get anything back!

“I filmed it all, so I’ve got proof of the location, two previous
night’s worth of license plates on the scum that go there and the plates on
even a few police cars, ‘officers’ who go there to unload their shit like the
rest. When I was done, I hexed the place, another thing I learned as a gypsy.
So, if you’re looking at me, maybe you think you’re seeing an Indian from some
tribe in South America. No, I’m just a gypsy who grew up in Las Tres Mil
Viviendas, and that means I grew up mad as hell. And, if you’re looking at me,
it also means that this film will be all over the Internet and all over the
world, that you’ll be hearing from the women we took out of that Spanish
toilet, that all the stuff in the Mafia’s computers has also been released on
the Internet—given to the CIA and Interpol first, since I don’t trust my own
country with it—and that we’ve returned the women to their countries safely.
You know what else you’re going to see? The crime boss’ son, who was such a
coward and who I left chained and taped to his own overgrown safe . . . well, I
filmed his naked ass for you, so you can also see just what he gave up papa’s
‘business empire’ to protect! It’s all coming up, friends, keep watching!”

Pilar was silent and looked up at Alex, who was awed and forgot to
say ‘cut.’ “Wow, Pilar. That’s good—no, it’s great! Now we’ll cut to the women.
There are a few the doctor is done with.” She was silent and had clearly been
overwhelmed by the implications of what they were doing. Then she looked up and
said, “You bloody Indian, are you going to write about it? I hope you are, you
bloody Indian, because if you won’t, I will!” They both started laughing and
could hardly stop. Pilar’s eyes were tearing over and some of her war paint was
coming off. Then, they hugged one another and snapped back to attention on the
film. However ancient Pilar’s war paint might be, they both knew they were
being summoned by the future. Sylvie was transfixed, as was Ruth, and any other
woman watching the event that was unfolding.

After several hours, the different working groups had results to
show. They had determined that the women came from only three countries—Romania,
Serbia, and Poland—and only one woman was an addict. They decided to keep her
behind for treatment by one of the doctors and begin moving the other women
after a single night’s sleep. After considering the possibilities, like putting
the women in their country’s embassies or on air flights or trains, the group
concluded that it was not safe for their names to appear in any databases. The
most likely reprisal from the Mafia would be, given the degree to which
corruption and bribery are embedded in Spanish culture, to pay off the police,
the transportation lines, and any corporation or organization that might be
called upon to assist or transport the women. The Mafia could then keep the
women in the country, take them hostage again and, through coercion, find out
the whereabouts of Pilar, Libre, the computers, and the film. The professors
volunteered to drive the women to their homes, entering France as quickly as
possible. They would claim that the women, who looked very young, were
vacationing and considering work/study opportunities in Spain. There was hardly
any close surveillance at the highway borders, little use of computers, and
very likely great respect for the professors, who would never be suspected of
transporting prostitutes. Five professors in five cars would start ferrying the
women that afternoon, after everyone had a night’s sleep. Pilar and Libre would
live in Monserrat’s house for an indefinite stay and always enter and leave
through the Civil War entrances. The group was satisfied with this plan.

The groups of women, working together, advanced quickly on this
course of action. At four am Alex was exclaiming over the contents of the
Mafia’s computers. By six am, she was running off CDs of the computers’
contents as well as copies of the rough film, which would be distributed to
several women besides her for safekeeping and released over Youtube if anything
happened to Pilar, Libre, or the prostitutes. Everyone present was sworn to
silence concerning what had happened at Monserrat’s house that night.

Alex then broached the subject she had been avoiding all night.
“Pilar,” she said, “What you’ve done is really great and its importance goes
way beyond the plans we’ve made tonight. I strongly urge you, in fact I beg
you, to release the film on Youtube now, as well as getting the computer data
out to the CIA and Interpol immediately, with Internet distribution later. We
should not wait until something terrible happens to you. There’s no way I can
exaggerate the importance of this film and the effect of directly releasing it
to the whole world on the Internet. Anything could happen! It could bring down
the government. It could strike a blow against human trafficking that’s
unimaginable. You’d be the most famous woman in Spain. You could change the way
gypsies are seen in one act. Hell, you might end up as Prime Minister of Spain!
Please, please, don’t wait to release it. Do it now! You’ve done the hard part
with your unimaginable courage. There’s no one else who would ever have thought
of this. It’s so much more than a Gay Pride Day stunt. It’s . . . as close to
human greatness as we get. Now, let go of it.”

Pilar was silent for a long time, thinking. She looks like that
bull coming out of the water in Doñana, Sylvie thought. The room was perfectly
silent. “Alex speaks for us all,” said one of the professors. “You should give
this to the whole world now. It’s badly needed, and it’s much too important to
hide away,”

At last Pilar spoke. “There is something you don’t know about your
Pilar, something you would never suspect. Actually, I am not an exhibitionist.
I never was, however I’ve seemed when I come here. I’m happy when I come here,
so I say a lot. But, I am a more private person than you know. Really, I
treasure my privacy. I would hate to be the most famous woman in Spain, I’m
oblivious to money, and I hate status seeking even more. You, Alex, poor Alex!
You
want to be the most famous woman in Spain. It’s a crazy thing for an
American woman to want but then, you come from that crazy country where everyone
is an exhibitionist and violent on top of it. No, I did this just for the
purpose I gave you, no more. I’m sorry to disappoint you. You can’t release the
film now.”

“I can only hope you will reconsider, that you are only tired now,
Pilar. God, we’re all so tired! We’ve been up all night making history, and now
you won’t let it happen.”

“You’re already asleep and dreaming. I won’t change my mind. But,
I see that you’ll ask me again, and it will not annoy me because I have great
respect for you. It’s too bad you can’t be the most famous woman in Spain.
You’d be a lot better than those beauty contest cows. It’s too bad you can’t be
the most famous woman in the world or the prime minister or the emperor, for
that matter. You’d do a better job than the usual idiot who seizes the day.”

Alex sighed deeply and let her head rest on her arms. She looked
and sounded like a man who had done a very hard day’s work and then realized it
had come to nothing. After a time, she raised her head and said, “OK, everyone.
You heard Pilar. No one ever knows anything about this unless the Mafia hurts
someone. This belongs exclusively to Pilar. It was her nerve and her . . .
genius that made this happen. No one here would ever have had the nerve to do
it. If you’re afraid you might get trigger-happy and release the film, give
your CD right back to her. And let me be the first to give it back. I wish I
was safe to hold it, but I’m not. I’ve done nothing all night but think that I
could ultimately get Pilar to release it.” Alex handed the CD to Pilar.

Monserrat quickly said, “Pilar, the film is safe here with me. I
understand your feelings, and I respect them. I won’t release it.”

At six-thirty am, they were all eating breakfast at Monserrat’s
and feeling proud of a complex job well done, whatever happened to the film. So
ends the most amazing night of my life, Alex thought. They are all safe,
Monserrat thought. So many images, so many truths like harsh lights, torrents
of brilliant red and black color, Sylvie thought. What a menagerie! Ruth
thought.

After breakfast, Ruth decided to approach Sylvie and assure
herself that Sylvie would still regard her as a friend and feel welcome in the
house. “Quite a trip to Spain!” she began.

“Oh yes,” Sylvie said. “Let me count the ways. First we’re artist
and scientist, working hard . . .”

“Then we turn into gypsies, then authors . . .”

“Meet our marriage mates and then, this . . . this . . .

“Revolution! We become revolutionaries. That, too. We’ve done it
all.”

“All that’s imaginable, for sure, except we left something out,
you know.”

“What on earth is that?”

“We completely missed out on being tourists!”

“Oh, that, yes. We left out every dull moment.” They laughed and
finally hugged one another. “Monserrat has told me wonderful things about your
painting, great things!” Ruth said. “If you’re feeling especially creative
here, you must feel completely free to stay on as long as you wish. She wants your
best book out of you, and I know you will give her that with long hours, hard
work, and unimaginable inspiration.”

“That’s good to hear. Yes, this house has proved to be quite a
stimulant. I’ve had the time of my life.”

“Me, too. Ah, they’ve just brought in fresh hot bread. Let’s have
more to eat. That was one long, satisfying Gay Pride Day.”

They smiled. The hypothetical hotel of one year in the future has
lit its “No Vacancy” sign, Ruth thought. We’re all going home.

RUTH AND MONSERRAT were sitting outside the southern cave at
Teruel in which the first human being was represented in Spanish Neolithic cave
art as a woman climbing a tree. They had also been to the cave that held the
matriarchal Neolithic painting Monserrat had described to Ruth, the image of a
woman standing in a circle of men. It had been very difficult navigating the
two caves, but they had now seen the paintings first hand, glowing in primitive
but sacred lines under a flashlight that seemed an aberration if not an
obscenity. They had been silent in reverence, for never before had they
actually seen the women who were arguably the most important human images to be
drawn in Spain, the first, at least to date. They closed their eyes briefly
before the sacred, overwhelmed. In different words, they both thought yes, I
know You. I have always known that You were somewhere in the world, hidden
away, perhaps the earliest secret of all. She showed them their lives as
secrets, signs, and messages to be divined, divulged, present before them. Now
they were gratefully breathing fresh air again, outside, back in the profane
world, with only moments—ambiguous, conflicting, and precious—in which the
sacred returned in a shaft of light, a pool of color, two bright eyes, an
animal’s graceful, instantaneous movement, an image, a truth glimmering in the
world, quickly gone but beyond doubt.

Nearly three weeks had passed since that night . . . of what?
Monserrat wondered . . . of a revolution that was not to be. As soon as the
last former prostitute had returned safely to her home and Pilar and Libre were
living incognito in the house, Ruth and Monserrat left for Cadaqués and spent
all their time there, working, swimming and loving, a life more natural to them
than they any had ever known, until the last two days, when the time seemed
right for a brief trip to the cave. Suddenly, Monserrat felt bemused at all
that had happened, so unexpected and yet inevitable. “I wonder whether the
first woman is climbing up the tree or down?” she asked.

Ruth smiled. “Which do you prefer? It can be no more than that at
this point.”

“There goes objective reality, but I won’t
miss it. Well . . . I like the idea of her going back up the tree to some kind
of shelter and her real life. From what you’ve told me about the bonobo life in
the trees—matriarchy, bisexuality, non-violence and relative equality—it
appeals to me far more than the chimp life of patriarchy, violence and
hierarchy on the ground that leads to the future. I want to think of her going
back up there and staying.”

“I can see that preference. In a way, I love it. But, I’m more
inclined to bring her closer, unknown as she is. So, I want her climbing down.
Ultimately, she climbs for Thee, as they say.”

Monserrat smiled. “Except Donne didn’t quite say it like that.
Would you like a glass of wine, here, in her honor?”

“Yes, that does seem right, but let’s drink water first. It was so
uncomfortable in that cave.” In fact, it was an ancient chaos of night, grit
and humid cold, Ruth thought, and I had to immerse myself and breathe it in.
That was the price of admission to Her company.

“Let’s have water, then wine. The wine is appropriately
spiritual.” Just then, Monserrat’s cell phone rang.

Ruth hung her head in aggravation. “Don’t answer, though I’m
afraid to say even that since it’s what I said last time, and then you couldn’t
get laid on your own living room sofa ever again.”

“The whole world intervened. But, this is one I must take. I feel
it again.”

Oh no, Ruth thought. Please, not death, jail or insanity—or even
revolution on a day like this, when we found Her at last.

Monserrat listened carefully for a long time. Intense emotion
passed over her face, but it was not fear or dismay. “Oh-god, really,” she
whispered from time to time, then at last softly, “all that?”

Oh, the suspense this woman’s life generates! Ruth thought. No one
is being attacked, but something unimaginable is happening again. Conflagration
follows this woman around! But, I love her and will always want to be swept up
in it with her. And why was that? Because there are no limits. I will never
know the end,
and so the adventure continues!
Monserrat smiled and said
her good-byes, and then she was silent and pensive.

“No!” Ruth said. “No reverential silences!
What on earth has
happened?”

“That was Tamara. Before Alex and Sylvie left for Paris, Alex
apparently talked Pilar into releasing the film on the Internet. They spent a
day polishing and editing it and adding more translations. It’s now the most
popular Youtube hit ever, translated into seventy languages and more coming,
causing a worldwide sensation. There is talk of governments going down in Spain
and several other countries. The Mafia data is on Wikileaks. Pilar
is
the
most famous woman in Spain, and everyone is looking for her. Women have been
painting their faces and arms and going out to protest human trafficking in the
streets. Painted men have joined them, too, in major cities all over the world,
San Francisco to Sri Lanka. Alex has been negotiating international book
contracts for the both of them, and huge sums of money are being offered for
movie rights. An American actress, Angelina Jolie, has expressed interest in
playing the part of Pilar . . .”

Ruth suddenly exploded with laughter. She had been agape in wonder
before that. Then they both couldn’t stop laughing. They hugged one another and
laughed, tried to discuss it and continued laughing, began to feel exhausted
but not enough to stop laughing, then kissed passionately and that stopped
their laughter. They nearly made love outside the cave, then found it too
uncomfortable and decided to drink wine instead. “Let’s climb down from this
cave and drink below while watching the sunset,” Ruth said. “The road is close
and the hotel not far off. We’ve sprinted over the whole history of
civilization today.”

“We have indeed. We need to assimilate.”

When they reached the bottom and were opening the bottle of wine,
Ruth said, “You know, we now have an answer to your question about whether the
first woman is climbing up or down the tree.”

“How so? Which is it?”

“She’s coming down.
Fast!”