Ode to towers and cages of gild
but before they leave us, still in their masks, ‘Smulagan’ stops by the door and turns to me suddenly. He glances up at Jörn with a sly sneer and takes out his phone,
“just so you know, Ms Lewis,” he says before he turns his phone to me, “aiding and abetting is still considered a criminal offense. And what that means is, if you knowingly perpetrate such an act, that is also considered a crime. While your boyfriend here would get diplomatic immunity, you would not—“
“That’s not true,” Jörn interrupts, “you don’t even know what you are talking about, the only reason you are here is because Stina is using you for her own advantages—“
“My advantages—“ she interrupts and finishes her sentence in a round of machine gun Swedish I completely miss
and Smulagan shows me his phone
It is a photo of someone in the focal point at some airport— that could be any airport; with the row of monitors showing flights behind, not many, but at least several random people,
“this was taken twenty-one hours ago, can you honestly tell me you don’t know this guy?”
I look at the center figure he indicates ....
Well.... he’s tall
.... the person in the photo is hard to distinguish as far as any other obvious physical features
between the face mask and....
—the Texan cowboy hat
—which is not odd in itself as I have seen Texans at airports from across the boarding lines as those hats are hard to miss
no, it is another giveaway that Smulagan would never notice.... on the surface, appropriately blendable, as he does wear very forgettable and worn-out khaki cargos, like millions of American travelers would (but Jörn would never), the Texan in the ten-gallon hat is also wearing a Jane’s Addiction T-shirt that, yes, this particular design does only depict skulls so, it’s easy to overlook, but.... I think, no self-respecting rodeo goer would ever be caught dead listening to James Addiction—especially if he is sporting a hat like this (and pretty sure would never be caught wearing that T-shirt to a Texas rodeo without a serious riot with gunshots).
I laugh inappropriately because it is too hilarious and look at Smulagan as I laugh,
“who is that?” I say still laughing unable to control the comedy of it
He looks at me,
“don’t be a smart ass. Just answer my question.”
I don’t laugh now because there is something about Smulagan that reminds me of too many others like himself I have known by how dirty they play with what they call justice
“Yes,” I say boldly looking into his eyes, “I don’t know that guy,” I say.
*********
It is later, after they leave, when Jörn asks me, seemingly out of nowhere,
“what other city would you consider?”
“Consider about what?”
“To live; relocate —if you had any choice?”
he just looks at me
“.... any choice? At all? Like in the entire world?” I ask him
He shrugs and waits with the slightest quirk to his brow
“Is this for hypothetical —like ‘as if’ kind of thing? Like the ideal paradise? Where you’d maybe film an epic drama?” I laugh and he laughs too but he paces back and forth impatiently now, so I say, “you know the answer would always be Amsterdam —because I’m attached to it as where I grew up but I don’t think you mean it that way. How do you mean it?” I ask him
“I’ve actually been thinking about my opera .... “ he keeps his back turned to me as he says this, “before the virus hit the world, I was starting to think of —yes, a stage .... or stages .... each stage would represent a different ‘stage’.... each a different ..... level, as you would say— but filming the opera .... that way, from this angle .... and with the series of the scenes fully sketched .... as doing an opera with an audience is not even realistic right now, I have started to consider searching around for some place to do this,” he paces as he talks
“So you are asking what city —as in to search for theatre space?” I ask
He shrugs,
“well, unless productions open soon, so—Amsterdam?— could work,” he says
Then he says,
“I sometimes think i only want it to be performed for— I mean.... it’s so personal to me.... it feels almost uncomfortable to just put out there.... which is why I make up excuses — “ he faces me now and looks at me, “you know why, don’t you?” but he only just looks at me. His eyes just look at me. Sometimes he is so unreadable. He says, “sometimes i think.... it is only meant to be performed for a certain few and I don’t even care about the cost of it because it means more to me as a work —then some kind of profit.”
“Was this what you were going to tell me —before?” I ask
“Before?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” he says
“In the farmhouse— right before your phone —does your phone tell you every time someone comes to the door?” I suddenly ask
“Can we talk about this later?” he asks me and starts up the stairs, “I’m going to shower,” he says
just like that
.... didn’t I just cover for him?
Still, who can be sure who that guy was in the Jane’s Addiction t-shirt but still .... anyway
But then, he bellows from upstairs
“Are you coming?”
I turn to the window instead to look for deer in the woods through the trees from the giant window
he walks out to the gallery ledge now without a shirt and says down to me,
“just thinking—you could use a shower considering how old that paint looks on you.”
I sit down on the floor in front of the window and a few minutes later I shout up at him without turning,
“I just lied for you, didn’t I?”
I think he must not have heard me —until I feel him right behind me as he gets onto the floor and cages me inside his long limbs and says something into my ear
“What does that mean?” I ask him but he ignores my question and says, “I know what is bothering you. This is about identity, isn’t it? You’ve been trying to find out who you really are, this is what has made you so strange lately.”
“What do you mean? What —“ I try to turn turn to see his face but he keeps me there like that.
I start to panic,
“what do you know? You know who comes to the door —what else do you know?” I ask
He says into my ear,
“you won’t find your answer that way, for one thing you need a genetic male to find your answer because, as you know, Ethan never took a dna test.”
I cover my face,
“how dare you invade me!”
I elbow him hard yet he still fights me
and says,
“none of his sons would ever agree to one, so you won’t find out that way either.”
“I know!” I say and try to elbow him again but he has me in a vice which only enrages me to the point of breaking —because he thinks he knows better than me what is good for me? but he doesn’t know; what does he know? nobody could ever know
“But, duva, you know who you are,” he says into my ear, “you don’t need—“
“How do you know? I want to know what it was that was so horrible about me to not be wanted, that is what I need, but you don’t understand that and nobody can but I guess I will never know why.”
“Is it worth tormenting yourself over your whole life?” he asks me
“That was never my choice to make. Do you not see this? All my mistakes —my daughter— the duplicitous deceptions of both my husbands is because —“
“Feral....” he says
“It is not an attractive word,” I admit, “not exactly suitable.”
“Suitable for what? Me? I’m a smuggler and a bandit!” he teases me
Because he relaxes his arms I turn to look at him
“be careful, Jörn, or you may admit you actually have feelings for me.”
At first he seems surprised at what I say. Maybe even stunned. But then he smiles,
“I could say the same about you— or have you never considered that?”
But then, I am now surprised,
“is that true?”
He inclines his head,
“you never say....”
then a silence falls between us which leaves me in a quandary of ....some kind of guilt but no, more than that... that I am stupefied by,
I say,
“what? You mean— have I ....no....I mean—you think —I’m— unfeeling?”
He shakes his head slowly and tries to read my eyes
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“What are you saying?”
“That.... I guess—we’re not that different. Just different reasons for it, maybe but, no, you never say how you feel, which is refreshing in a lot of ways because I have known some hysterical women and even with your closet of skeletons .... you don’t demand ,” he says
“What don’t I demand?”
“You never demand,” he says
“I see....” I say
but, no, I have no idea what he means
He says,
“But sometimes, maybe you should....is all I’m saying.”

