The Dragon Griaule

‘Being fucked-up was kind of my ambition,’ he said, but she acted as though she hadn’t heard.

‘. . . because the world disappointed you in some way I don’t understand. Whatever.

‘When we were together back then we never used the word “love” much. I don’t know if we ever used it, but we both knew there was something there. Something strong. But we didn’t deal with it, we skated around it. The night you got here, when you said you loved me, I knew it wasn’t totally sincere . . . but it wasn’t totally insincere, either. It was the most you ever gave to me. I felt that, and that’s why I responded.’

Her words had come in a rush, but now she faltered. ‘And . . . it got better after that.

‘Every night it’s better . . .’ She stared at him helplessly. ‘I wish you hadn’t mentioned Scheve. Now I’ve got these images in my head. I can’t think.’

He lay down beside her and she turned to face him – he kissed her forehead and felt her relax.

‘I’ll just make my point,’ she said. ‘We could be dead in a couple of days, maybe as soon as tomorrow. There’s no way to avoid what’s going to happen, but there’s an opportunity here. If we can get through this, if we stand up for one another and do what has to be done, we have a chance to turn all our fuckeduppedness, all our imperfections into strengths. That’s little enough to hope for considering everything that’s happened, the terrible mistakes I’ve made, and your mistakes . . . but if we can salvage that much, the relationship, love, potential, whatever you want to call it, maybe it’s something we can build on.’

Her pause lasted no longer than a hiccup.

‘God, that sounds lame,’ she said. ‘I had it worked out, exactly what I wanted to say, but then you brought up Scheve and . . . poof ! It’s out of my head.’

Snow told her to take her time and she closed her eyes for a minute.

‘I remember bits and pieces of it,’ she said. ‘How if we can kill Jefe, we have an obligation to the people we’ve destroyed to take advantage of the opportunity. And how if we do kill him, it’ll change us. It’ll be our alchemy. But without logic behind it, you know . . . without the proper order, the way I planned to say it . . . it sounds like straight bullshit.’

Her inability to remember was persuasive in its authenticity and Snow felt guilty for having doubted her.

‘It’s strange how just mentioning that bastard’s name can screw me up,’ she said. ‘I don’t recall many details. About being with him, you know. Just this sick, detached feeling, like it was in a dream. Like that movie you took me to in Antigua, remember, where I freaked out? His face was all blurry and distorted, moving in and out of frame, very close, like the guy in that movie. And that’s it. That’s all I remember about him. But if you say “Scheve” I start to fall apart.’

‘I’m sorry I brought it up.’ He kissed her again. ‘Are you going to be all right?’

‘I’m just mad at myself. I’ll be okay.’

‘Then I guess I should go.’

She traced the veins on the back of his hand, studying them as if they were a puzzle she needed to solve, and then said, ‘No, really. You shouldn’t.’

Whenever Jefe came within earshot they would resurrect their argument, debating conflicting styles of governance, and Snow, perhaps due to his dependency on Yara, the sense of helplessness it engendered, derived a trivial satisfaction from his ability to argue the right-wing point-of-view, one with which he did not agree in spirit, yet had to admit was the more pragmatic of the two political stances. He derided as a ‘leftist fairy tale’ Yara’s insistence that firmness tempered with altruism would bring about a peaceful and prosperous Temalagua, and suggested that it was odd to hear such drivel issue from the mouth of someone associated with the PVO since its inception.

‘What she’s saying is great for kids to hear,’ he said. ‘That is, if you want your kids to grow up without a spine. It’s moral pablum that weakens them, programs them to cling to their mothers’ skirts. A leader, a man who would rule, he has to rid himself of such naivete. He has a country to think of – every day he’ll have to resolve issues that will cause pain and anger whichever way he decides them. He has to see beyond that sort of morality, a morality whose function is solely to curb one’s instincts, to limit one’s behavior. His role demands he be capable of wider judgments.’

Jefe no longer seemed distressed by their contentiousness. In fact, he acted as if he relished these exchanges and would signify hs approval whenever Yara or (more frequently) Snow said something with which he agreed. Then at breakfast one morning, the fifth day following the incident with Chuy, he invited them to watch him fly. His manner was casual, genial, as if he were asking them to join him at a movie. Snow was unable to conceal his dismay.

Jefe clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Man, come on! I promise you’ll enjoy this.’