painting perfect picture maps...I missed ten million miles of road I should have seen

[genny_duvall]

Monday, May 24
Outside Genny's trailer

Everythin was great, and then it wasn't.

Nu had a baby. I helped Nu have a baby. Never thought I'd like babies so much, but this one was different. Never thought there'd be so much to see in a baby that didn't even talk or nothin'. I went to play with them every day, and I drew pictures of 'em both. Real

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[tereixa_zann]

"Thanks," I say, and it feels thin again, because it's a bit too much to say about the bed (I mean, it's Genny, she wouldn't ask me to sit on the floor) and much much too little to say about what she's doing. I put the sketchbook down beside me and lace my fingers together, looking between them and Genny as she gets ready. Remember everything I've seen her do before, the colour and motion caught like holding a breath in the sunlight. The paint she's bringing out looks old and grimed, but that's no different from any of what's left on the palette, and that's a bit of a relief.

"Um. Zann, honey? I'm sorry," and I freeze 'cause all I can think for a second is that she's going to tell me she can't do it. "I'm gonna have to put my blood in it, but…I'm gonna need some of your blood too. Not much! And I'll try real hard to make it not hurt..."

"Oh, honey, that's okay," I say, and... god, I that's nothing, and it really is okay, 'cause I mean I don't go out trying to hurt when I try to fix something, but I understand; you work, sometimes you get hurt, and really as far as it goes I think it's usually worth it. I pass one hand through my hair and manage a smile, even if it's jittery. "I've got a knife, or if there's something special you want to use...?"

I can see the darkness to be coming in the blood, the clotting and crusting, but it's thinner than the dust waiting in everything else; it's easier to see it as bright. "Does it look funny to you, too?"

[genny_duvall]

"Oh, honey, that's okay. I've got a knife, or if there's something special you want to use…?"

"I got a knife. A couple. So's I can use a clean one for you and me both."

Gotta do my cut last, 'cause that's what starts it for real. Kinda glad mine's last anyhow, 'cause…what's gonna happen? Ain't done this for ages, not like this, not when I can 'member what I'm doin'.

First I get out the lil jar that Syl brought. Ain't much left in it, but it'll do what I want it to. I reach in with my palette knife and scrape out the insides of the jar. Every time the knife blade comes down it feels like I'm touchin' the edge of one of Zann's wires. Tiny tingly shock goin' up my arm, over and over. I can feel the power in it. The blood. Tezcatlipoca…

Mix it into the red, over and over, till it's all folded in.

Then I go for the other knives, the ones that the Doc gave me, in the leather case with the syringes and other stuff. One knife for me, one for Zann.

I bring the palette over to Zann, and kneel down next to her. Ain't no way to do this gentle, so I just do it fast. Quick slash on her arm, let her blood run out onto the palette. Yes. That's how it's supposed to go…

"Does it look funny to you, too?"

I blink up at her. "Does what look funny, hon?"

[tereixa_zann]

"Does what look funny, hon?"

"The blood?" I say, hesitantly; I don't quite know the steps to this, to seeing something shining in spite of all the worn-down edges, like dust in sunlight. All the pieces that could be anything dancing in the light, waiting to see if they'll come together, and I shake my head and look at the blood in the paint. "Or the paint, with everything in it? Maybe it just doesn't age the same way's most things." I haven't really looked at blood, not to pay a lot of attention to it, not while I'm like this.

[genny_duvall]

"Looks the same to me."

The blood looks the same, but it feels different. Feels sharper, feels more there. I can almost taste it, and I lick my lips. Paint and blood and power, all of it.

"I - I'm gonna start now." I gotta start. Now that the blood's in the paint, I need to work. Need to put my blood in there too. Need to pick up the knife. I feel it in my hand, and it's harder and harder to hold it back… "Don't know how long it'll take. But…" I gulp, and tear my eyes away from the palette to look back up to Zann. "But stay here while I do it?"

I need her here so I can paint her, but I want her here so I'm not alone while I'm doin' the picture.

[tereixa_zann]

"Looks the same to me," she says, and I nod, but there's something a little more intent in how she's standing, the line and balance of her, and I'm... I don't know. Remembering how she was around Tez sometimes, going someplace far and farther out, and she's not doing that, I don't think, but for a second--

"I - I'm gonna start now." And the knife and the paint and it seems there's a place in everything waiting for her to fill it, and the knife is a key, to open a lock or wind up a music box... "Don't know how long it'll take. But… But stay here while I do it?"

"I will," I say, and I want to hug her again, but she's already all set up and it'd get splotchy, so I reach out to touch her arm instead. "Be careful, Genny, okay? I'll be here." And I mean, I know that's why she's doing this anyway, and it's not like I can help her with it, but for what good it'll do for anything else, I'm here. And if I think I need to I will stop her. Please, god, I think that if it looks like it's getting too dangerous I'd stop her, and I never want to find out if I'm right.

[genny_duvall]

"Thanks." That ain't enough but it's all I can say. I know she's there. And she always will be.

I pick up the other knife, the clean one, and hold it up.

First tears. Don't have to work too hard for 'em this time. All's I gotta do is think 'bout Zann. Zann hurtin', Zann who can't look at her machines no more.

Tears splash down over the paints. They're out of my body bit it feels like they're still part of me, like there's strings from each one of 'em back into me, or like it's my hair where I can feel someone tug on the end. Couldn't never feel the power in 'em before, not like this. Now I can.

Then I pick up the other knife. Don't hardly have time to roll up my sleeve. It cuts deep, and the blood spills, and my brush flies, and the world grows dark, and I see…

The machine first. The Carousel, the one she loved best. I start with the gears, the innermost workings of the machine. Like drawing a skeleton, then the muscles over it, then the skin, each layer builds on itself and grows into a pattern of interlocking wheels. The instant that the paintbrush leaves each wheel, it starts turning. Circles upon circles, every gear building up from inside itself, growing like a flower into the Carousel.

The machine is perfect. Every gear gleams in silver and gold, every wheel turns smoothly. Every horse shines in the sunlight, every bright bit of bridle stands out in reds and blues and greens. Every swoop of the canopy in shining color. Everything in perfect order, under a deep blue sky.

If nothing else works, at least I have made this for you, my Tereixa. At least I have made this one beautiful thing for you.

Then the woman.

The brush flies to the other side of the palette, where the truer power lies. Blood and paint and tears, all in one. And something more. Something of a god. The power to kill and create and heal. Tezcatlipoca.

Eyes first. Bright shining eyes to see health, not ruin, to see beauty and pattern...

[tereixa_zann]

She's got the pole and the pulley and clutch, quick strokes but so clean, printed bright against the air. I blink and glance down at my arm, and then back, and the shaft's there, drive belt, pinion gears and platform gear and the support and sweeps, and it's like watching paper flowers unfold in water, something brighter than smoke filling in the spaces of glass, and it doesn't hurt to look at, it doesn't hurt to see. I glance away from the canvas towards Genny, just a second, just for a second, and her eyes are gray, the color of a summer storm in sunlight boiling up over the midway--

"Tezcatlipoca," and hearing that makes me start, sudden worry with nowhere to go, just a bad feeling. But she's still painting, moving smooth and faster than I would have thought anyone could, if they were turning out something this bright, it's like watching a routine spun out double-time, something done so often you know it in the strut of your bones and the pull of muscle and flesh, and when I look back to the canvas I can see something bright, small and young and bright, and I remember the dream, the golden gear, the beginning of the note...

[genny_duvall]

Eyes first, and then the smile. Like the cat from the storybook whose smile appeared first and disappeared last. Except that's all so very far away right now, even farther away than the years since I've heard it.

There is nothing except me and the paint and the spinning spinning wheels.

And there is her. The smiling happy face, the slim quick body. She's watching the Carousel spin, and seeing it work. Everything about her is beautiful. Everything is right in the painting. Please, make everything right outside the painting, too. Make her see true again, make her not see death wherever she looks….

THUMP.

There's hard ground under me. Think I fell down.

Eyes're still gray. Brush fell on the floor. Breathin' hard. Think I'm laughin'. Cryin', too. And I feel right. Don't know what I done but I think it was good...

[tereixa_zann]

I haven't seen anything so beautiful in what feels like forever, the mesh and sweep of music and motion, swimming in my sight all soft and close and still in perfect focus. I was watching Genny but now my eyes are on my Carousel, I knew how beautiful she was but now I remember, and--

A lot of reflexes kick in at once when I hear her body hit the floor.

"Genny!" There's a split-second tangle where I'm trying to get to my feet and step back all at once which is not so easy when you're sitting down, and then I'm down on my knees on the floor beside her, the room clean and bright and shining. Her eyes are still strange, and she shouldn't still be like that, should she? I mean, if she's coming off the high of it, fine, and she's laughing and crying and I'm trying to wipe the tears away without moving her too much, and she looks okay, and then it kind of dawns on me that she looks okay and I hear myself laughing too.

"Genny, hon? Genny?" Push her hair back away from her face. "Are you okay? I think it worked, please be okay..."

[genny_duvall]

"I'm okay!" I gasp.

There's somethin' else on my face. Not tears. Somethin' warm. Hands.

Zann's hands. There's still a little gray, but I can see that much. Zann's wipin' off my face. Gettin' rid of the tears and pushin' my hair back where it fell.

And she's laughin'. Laughin' for real like I ain't seen her do for ages.

"I'm okay. I - I thought it worked too. Did it? Did it really?" I'm already laughin', and now I laugh more. I'm sittin' on the ground but I feel like I'm flyin', spinnin' in space and shinin' like stars. Oh, look what I made! Look what I done

[tereixa_zann]

"I'm okay! I'm okay," laughing and she looks okay, that's kind of slowly sinking in and sinking is so much the wrong word, I feel like I'm starting to rise up or stretch or sing. Look around again as she sits up, her face, the floor, the bed, the paintings...

"I - I thought it worked too. Did it? Did it really?" and I reach out, lace the fingers on one of my hand through hers and sit down next to her.

"I think--" sort of stunned-- "y-yes? Yes." I can't stop looking around, the light-lined tangle of her hair and the tiny warp of the floorboards and the jumble of paintings... Blink and look down at our hands and the clipped ends of my fingers. "Something's different," I say, "but it's better, it really is. I can see things that aren't breaking, I mean I can see things and the ways they're going to-- might-- break, they aren't there anymore," and my voice is getting salty and I'm crying, it feels good and I'm crying and I reach to put my arms 'round her. "Oh, Genny..."

[genny_duvall]

"It worked. It worked."

Feels like I'm still a long way away from where Zann is. Feels like I'm flyin'. Gonna fly forever. It's better'n when Nu had the baby. Better'n when I made the elephant. Better'n just 'bout anythin. I can feel the power hummin' in me still.

Look what I done. I made her better. I made Zann happy again. I wouldn't hardly care what else happened as long as I could see her smile like that.

First her fingers go through mine, and then she just hugs me the rest of the way. I wanna tell her not to cry but I'm cryin' too, 'cause I'm just too happy to do nothin' else.

'Cept I can hug Zann. I can always do that. I hug her tight, and smooth down her hair. Just like we done 'fore I did the picture, but now it's 'cause we're happy 'stead of sad.

"Oh honey," I whisper back. "Love you. Love that you're happy now.

[tereixa_zann]

Genny's arms all 'round me and I'm shaking a little, not badly but I'm shaking, and I can't think of anything to say except "Thank you," and I want to cry again over that, because thanks is what you say when someone brings you coffee in the morning, this is my whole life here instead of spilling out through my hands, my whole life... "Come on?" I say, pulling one hand free to gesture to the door. "Come on, honey, please, come with me? I want to see it, I want to see everything."

[genny_duvall]

"'Course," I say, givin' Zann another hug. "I want to see you seein' it." I laugh 'cause it sounds funny when I say it like that, and 'cause I'm happy, and 'cause Zann's laughin' too.

Takes a couple tries to get up. I'm all wobbly like I was after I came back from bein' sick. But fallin' down makes me laugh too. Everythin' does.

For a sec I don't want to go. There's more paint. More things I could do. More blood and paint and power that I could use to make things. I can feel it, like those strings on a puppet, all pullin' me back.

But Zann's pullin' me out the door into the sun. I grab her arm so's I don't fall down again, and we go.

[tereixa_zann]

Nothing's dying. Nothing's dying, nothing's waiting to break or shrivel, the dry rot and rust is gone--well, mostly, although I think I should take a look at Sadie's trailer, I can do that now--and I'm running with Genny, through and down to the midway, gonna see my girl shining bright again, ready to turn and spin out all that music, the skirling calliope brass out through the sky...

I almost go right past her.

"Uhm." I've come to a hard stop when I realized I nearly missed, but-- she's there. But she's just there, still and sturdy and sitting on the midway. Lovely, too, my girl--all neat and clean, the horses waiting to roll forward and the platform and struts straight and steady.

But she's just there, like she is now, all the skin and surface of her. Not where she's come from or how she'll move, how she was meant to move. Like a... like a painting. I think you could take one of the belts right out of her and I wouldn't know until I tried to start her up, I wouldn't know...

I realize I've got one hand on my mouth, and I take it away, and I don't know what to say.

[genny_duvall]

I wobble after Zann into the sunlight. Light's so bright it hurts, and for a sec I want to go back inside. But that would mean I wasn't lookin' at Zann, and I don't want to do nothin' but watch her bein' happy. She's lookin' at everythin', just grinnin' 'cause it all looks right now.

Out we go, over to the Carousel. And…wait. No. That ain't happy. That ain't the way the lines of Zann's face go when she's happy. That ain't how her eyes look when she's happy. Oh no. Oh no, did she go back to seein' things wrong already?

"Um. Zann? Honey? You okay?"