Читать книгу But For A Penis… - Welby Thomas Cox Jr. - Страница 27

In his dreams Richard was always someplace else and all of those dreams took place around the sea. As far back as he could remember he had listened to the sea; to the sound of it mingling with the wind in the needles of the big trees, the wind which never stopped blowing, even when one left the shore behind and crossed the fields. It is the sound which cradled his childhood. He could hear it now as he listened to the plight of Eleanor, deep inside him; he knew it would come with him wherever he would go: The tireless lingering sound of the waves breaking in the distance on an island, then coming to die on the banks of the sea. As a child he dreamt that a day would not go by that he didn’t go to the sea; not a night when he didn’t wake up with his sheets wet from sweat, sitting up on his small cot stretching to see the tide from the shine of the moon, anxious and full of a desire he didn’t understand. The sea like an old playmate…a girl with windblown hair beckoning to him gleefully and then plunging into the blackness.

Richard thought of the sea as human, and in the dark all senses were alert, the better to hear her arrival, the better to receive her. The giant waves leaping one over another, sending its nutrient filled froth into the sand, like sperm into a womb or tumbling into the lagoon; the noise made the air and the earth vibrate like a boiler. I heard her, she moved and she breathed.

When the moon was full, he slid out of bed without a sound, careful not to make the worm-eaten floor creak. But he knew she wasn’t asleep; he knew her eyes were open in the dark and that she was holding her breath. He nudged Eleanor gently and they scaled the window ledge and pushed at the wooden shutters in the dream, and then they were outside, in the night. The garden was bathed in white moonlight; it shone on the top of the trees, swaying noisily in the wind, and he could make out the dark masses of rhododendrons and hibiscus. With a beating heart the ‘tied-at-the-hip’ pair walked down the lane which went toward the hills, where the fallow land began.

A large tree which Eleanor called the tree of good and evil, stood very close to the crumbling wall; before climbing onto its highest branches so that they could see the sea over the treetops and the expansive waving of the crops back and forth in unison with the wind…its own conductor, Eleanor squatted on one side of the giant tree and Richard watered it from the other side, and then they raced each other up the trunk seeking the highest point and bragging rights as the best man!

This early morning, the moon rolled between the clouds, throwing out splinters of light. Then suddenly over the foliage, they saw it: a giant black slab alight with shining, sparkling dots. Did they really see it, even in the dream, did they really hear it? The sea was inside their heads, and when they closed their eyes, they saw and heard it best, clearly perceiving each wave as it crashed onto the reef and then came together again to unfurl on the shore.

They clung to the branches for a long time until arms grew numb. The wind from the sea blew over the trees and the top of the crops waving to them as if to say, “morning chums, what do you share in this natures dance of symmetry”, and then they watched the moon shine on the leaves. Sometimes in the dreams they stayed there until dawn, listening and wondering of what they might become; Richard told Eleanor he dreamt of being a captain steering the mighty sails, or even a seaman hoisting them. She confided no such unrealistic expectations and that her dream was to marry and have many children.

At the other end of the garden the big house was dark, closed in on itself like an abandoned wreck. The wind made the loose shingles bang and the framework creak. This, too, was the sound and an effect of the sea, as was the groaning of the tree trunk like a giant timber straining against the sails in a never ending or winning battle with the wind. He would not admit it to Eleanor but he was afraid to be alone in the tree, but he still did not wish to return to the room, nor did Eleanor and he resisted the chill, the fear and the fatigue which made heads heavy but the spirit of the devoted pair light in the magic of shared friendship.

It was not really fear of heights Richard felt; it was more like standing on the edge of an abyss or a deep canyon…and staring down, heart beating so hard that it echoed painfully in the nape of his neck. And yet he knew he had to stay…and if he did, at least he would learn something of great worth…and he would have faced his fear. It was impossible for him to go back to the room as long as the tide was rising. He had to stay, clinging to the tree branches, waiting for the moon to glide across the sky. Just before dawn when the sky became gray, they would go back and slide under the sheets. Eleanor would climb into her side and place her cold feet on Richard, laughing as he removed them. But she never questioned him in the dream as she did in reality. She merely looked at Richard, as she did now, with questioning eyes, and then he was sorry they’d gone out to hear the sea.

In the serial dream, Richard went to the beach each morning. Sometimes Eleanor would sleep heavily weary from the previous day, and he wouldn’t wake her. He had to cross the poppy and lavender fields, and the hemp was so high that he ran blindly down the paths cut in it by bandits with wagons following the scythes, swiping through the crop stolen for resale on the black market at Marseille and he sometimes got lost or was injured amid the sharp stalks. At times he could no longer hear the sea…the burning late-winter sun stifling its sound…a sexual conquest in the miracle of nature devouring innocence. Bruster, the chef said it would be harvested soon, and his grandson Wilmore was up ahead of Richard but could not be seen. Wilmore always went barefoot, armed only with his pole but he took longer strides than Richard and therefore outdistanced him. Richard was designed for horses, not for walking. In order to maintain contact with Wilmore, Richard had designed a method whereby he would pluck twice on a grass harp, or he would howl twice: his signal call went like: WHOOP! Whoop!

Richard heard Wilmore far ahead of him, slashing his way with the help of the pole. Whoop! Whoop! Richard answered with his grass harp. There was no other sound. The sea was at her lowest ebb and wouldn’t come in before noon. The two boys were moving as fast as possible toward the tidal pools where the shrimp and octopus hid.

Richard noticed among the crop in front of him there lay a heap of lava stone. He climbed to the top in order to see the green sweep of the fields, and far behind him now, lost in the jumble of trees and thickets, the shipwrecked house with its odd sky-colored roof and the “Sea Captains” little shanty; and farther still, Seamen’s chimney and the high red mountains going straight up toward the sky. Richard spun around at the summit of the stone pyramid he had mounted and he could see the whole countryside from his perch: smoke funneled from the chimney where crops were being refined, the river meandering through the trees, the hills, and at last, the dark, glittering sea which had receded from the other side of the reefs.

This was what Richard loved. There was so much freedom and air to breath unlike that which captured all the foulness of a closed castle. He believed he could stay at the top of the heap for hours, even days, doing nothing but looking, feeling, breathing and he and Eleanor held each other like chimps, cuddling for the warmth from a sibling.

Whoop! Whoop! Wilmore was calling from the other end of the field. He, too, was standing at the pinnacle of a pyramid of black stones. A castaway on an islet in the middle of the sea. Wilmore was so far away Richard could barely see him, but Eleanor had eyes like an eagle and she saw him down to his bare black feet with the white soles. But Richard could only see his long, insect like silhouette at the top of the pile. Richard cupped his hands and called in response: Whoop! Whoop! They both climbed down the stone and once more began the journey to the sea.

************

The next morning, in the dream, the sea was black and unfathomable due to the lava dust, strange as it may seem if one went North or South, the sea became clear again. From the shelter of the reefs, Wilmore fished for octopus in the lagoon. Richard watched him as, pole in hand, he waded farther in the water on his long, stiltlike legs. He was not afraid of the sea urchins or scorpion fish. He shuffled through the dark pools of sea water, his shadow always behind him. As Wilmore waded farther away from the bank he disturbed the flights of laffes, cormorants and corbijous. Richard watched him while standing with bare feet in the cold water. Richard had asked to go with him, but Wilmore always said no, “Your grace is too fragile,” he would say. “You are too small…and your soul is in my care!” Wilmore often stated that Richard’s father, the Duke had entrusted Ricard and Eleanor’s well-being and education to him. Richard knew this wasn’t true since his father was deceased. But Richard liked the way he said it... with such sincerity and good will. “Your soul is in my hand!” And, Richard knew he and Eleanor were the only people Wilmore permitted to go with him to the riverbank. Richard’s own cousin, Loche wasn’t even permitted to go along, even though he was older than Richard, and Eleanor wasn’t either, in the beginning… because she was a girl!

But Wilmore relented when Eleanor nearly outran him through the crops. Wilmore laughingly stated, ‘the woman is half Cheetah’. And Richard remembered her saying in return…”do not forget who does the hunting, it isn’t the male lion who lies licking his nuts, but the females in the pride.”

Richard liked Wilmore a lot; he was a friend. His cousin Loche had said he could not be a friend with a black man but Richard cared less about the color of his skin. He thought his cousin had made the comment because he was jealous, he wished he could walk through the fields with him on the way to the sea and share his wisdom, gained from doing and being a part of nature.

When the tide was very low, as it was early in the morning, the black rocks became visible. There were great dark pools, too, and others so clear you could almost believe that light came from them…it was an oxymoron. At the bottom the sea urchins were violet spheres, anemones opened their blood-red corollas, and jelly-fish slowly waved their long, hairy arms at Wilmore, as to say…’beware’. Richard stared into the depths of the pools while in the distance Wilmore prodded near the rocks for octopus with the point of his stick.

Here, the sound of the sea was like beautiful music. Waves blown up by the wind, broke on the coral reefs far away; Richard could feel the vibration in the rocks and the current which flows up to the sky. It was as if there were a wall on the horizon which the sea was trying to break down. Sometimes a burst of spray rose up, only to fall back onto the reefs in the next instant. The tide had started to come in and this was the moment when Wilmore could spear the octopuses, for they felt the renewal of the water from the open sea in their tentacles and came out of their hiding places. The pools were flooded one-by-one and the Jelly-fish waved their arms in the current, clouds of small fish rose to the surface in the swells, and Richard saw a coffer fish swim past, looking hurried and scared. Richard had been coming here for a long time, since he was adopted (informally) by the Duke. He knew every pool, every rock, every nook; he crawled, and where the eels and octopuses hid. He would stand very still and silent, so the fish would forget he was there. How calm and beautiful the sea was at that moment. When the sun was high above the water became light, pale blue, the color of the sky. The waves thundered onto the reefs with all their might. Dazzled by the light, Richard squinted to try to see Wilmore. The sea had come through the inlet and was driving slow waves across the rocks.

When Richard got to the shore, to the estuary of the two rivers, he saw Wilmore sitting high up onto the beach, in the shade of a tree. Ten or more octopuses hung like scalps at the end of his long pole. Wilmore waited there for Richard without moving, he was tired and glad for the moment to lurk between contentment and sleep. The penetrating sun burned Richard’s skin and hair. He quickly stripped off his clothes and dived naked into the water, at the point where two rivers met the sea which Richard had been told by Wilmore that two rivers meeting is one thing but when those bodies of water display distinguishing colors from one without mixing, the color swatch can be amazing, like a painter’s palette…rich in the mixture.

Richard felt relief from the heat as he swam against the current of the soft water until he could feel the sharp little pebbles on his stomach and knees. When he was totally immersed in the river he grabbed hold of a large stone and let the fresh water run over him to wash away the sting of the sun and the salty sea. That was all there was…only what he felt and saw; the very blue sky, the noise of the sea breaking on the reefs, the cold water running over his skin, and the undertow playing with his balls, causing his member to salute.

He got out of the water shivering despite the heat, going from blistering to shivering. He dressed without drying. The sand gritted in his shirt and trousers and it scratched his feet in the bottom of his shoes. His long curly hair was still sticky with salt and it frizzed like the Wild Man in him. Wilmore had been watching Richard without moving, his smooth dark face indecipherable. Seated in the shade of the tree he remained immobile, both hands resting on the pole from which the octopuses hung like tatters.

Wilmore never swam in the sea, Richard had wondered if Wilmore could even swim? Wilmore was the product of a loving grandfather who taught him to bathe as the last act of the day and to do so far from his home where he was taught to wash with certain plants in the gorge. His grandfather had taught him to do so that he would grow strong and the plants juices would help him have a man’s penis… thick and long. Richard thought this was interesting but an old wives tale since it had not helped him.

************

Richard liked and admired Wilmore because Wilmore took the time to explain nature and the manner in which it reacts to the needs of the body like the functioning of the eye with all its tiny veins sending orders to the gut for nutrient channeling…like a message to send zinc to the prostate. He knew so many things about trees, water and the sea and the role man played in this laboratory from which he sprung. Wilmore strongly believed man came from the sea over millions of years as a single cell washing into a warm pool and over a million years losing his long tail but gaining a hunters instinct for food beyond vegetation… becoming an expert at killing to survive. Wilmore learned everything he knew from his grandfather, and also from his grandmother, and old black woman who was native to Cases Noyales. Wilmore knew the names of all the fish and insects and all edible plants in the forest, all the wild fruits, and he could tell the trees apart by nothing more than their smell, or just by chewing a bit of the bark.

Wilmore knew so many things that you could never be bored in his company. Eleanor also liked Wilmore and asked him many questions, and he often brought her small gifts; a fruit from the forest, or maybe a flower, a shell, a piece of white flint or an obsidian, which is a naturally occurring volcanic glass formed as an extrusive igneous rock. Obsidian is produced when felsic lava extruded from a volcano cools rapidly with minimal crystal growth.

Certain individuals have been endowed with a blessing, or in some cases a curse when they are able to design a dream which they are able to “call-up”, such was the case with Richard and in this magical state he was able to possess the child of his dreams, the girl of his life, the woman he would marry. Because they were raised as brother and sister, there was a sibling bond as definitive as earth to water but as they grew from children to the teen period the love they felt as siblings melted into a fanatically enhanced romantic attraction which they recognized and discussed openly between each other.

Wilmore was the only person with whom they had shared this oxymoronic relationship which posed sensitive and life changing prospects for both of them, as well as for Wilmore. As much as the Duke had come to love Richard, as an adoptive parent, his love for Eleanor was without bounds; was without explanation, and it was obvious the Duke had a vision for her to inherit his kingdom and to rule it wisely in his stead into the future. That future did not envision Eleanor mating with Richard, or marrying her. The Duke saw Richard as Eleanor’s finger…there to scratch an itch; there to know and love her in a protectorate capacity as a big brother…not, in any way as a lover!

Eleanor’s father, William X was not a man to ire, he took no prisoners and he was quite direct, often counseling Richard on trips to hunt and fish. It was as though the Duke was setting a path for Richard to follow without fail, in much the same way Richard’s father had served the Duke into his own death.

When the sun was really high, Wilmore stood up, emerged from the shade, and shouted, “Kic-ard!” This was the way he pronounced Richard’s name. Then we walked quickly through the thick fields where we stopped to eat at Wilmore’s father’s house…the house with the sky blue roof.

************

At daybreak, when the sky was growing light, Richard and his cousin Loche’ walked along the dirt track which led to the fields. By climbing over the high walls they got into the chase where the deer on the large estates lived. Loche’ knew where he was going. His father was very rich and had taken him to all the properties. He had gone as far as the houses of Famarin Estates; and right up to Volmar and Sedine far in the North. It was forbidden to go into the chase; Richard knew his father would be very angry if he knew the boys were going into the estates. He had told him how dangerous it was. He told him there could be hunters or that he could fall into a trap, but Richard believed it was mainly because his father did not like the people who owned the big estates. He said everyone should stay on their own property.

The boys walked carefully as though they were in enemy territory, and they were. In the distance, in the gray scrub, the boys glimpsed some shapes disappearing quickly into the undergrowth…was it deer, they asked each other?

Then Loche said he wanted to go as far as Famarin Estates. They came out of the chase and walked once more on the long dirt path. Richard had never gone this far and he told Loche’. Once, Richard had gone with Wilmore to the top of Kourelle, where you could see the countryside and from there he saw the roofs on the houses and the thick smoke coming from the processing refinery’s tall smoke stacks.