Katja Brunner

STUMPY LEGS TOO SHORT

VON DEN BEINEN ZU KURZ

Englisch von/
Translated into English by
Alex Mangold & Regina Hellmich
Aberystwyth, Wales
2014

Alle Rechte vorbehalten, insbesondere das der Aufführung durch Berufs- und Laienbühnen,
des öffentlichen Vortrags, der Verfilmung und Übertragung durch Rundfunk und Fernsehen.
Das Recht der Aufführung ist rechtmäßig zu erwerben vom:
All rights whatsoever in this play are strictly reserved. No performance may be given unless a
licence has been obtained. Application for performance etc., must be made before rehearsals
begin, to:

henschel SCHAUSPIEL Theaterverlag Berlin GmbH

Alte Jakobstrasse 85/86, Aufgang 7
10179 Berlin,
Tel. +49 (30) 44318888
Fax: +49 (0)30 - 4431 8877
Email verlag@henschel-schauspiel.de

Die Rechte an der Übersetzung liegen bei / Rights above this translation:

Alex Mangold & Regina Hellmich, Email: arm@aber.ac.uk

Förderung der Übersetzung durch: / This Translation was sponsored by:

 This is a play for four to five actors or actresses. Alternatively,
thirteen men in bathrobes can play all the parts. All voices in the
play are part of one female self. It should also be noted that reality
is only an interpretation of any given situation, even where it may
transcend the limited perceptions of the self.

SURGERY NR 1

1
My legs are not a part of me, what I’m seeing is not my body this is just an
attachment to my brain, botched-up in my mother’s womb, I can hear a voice:
She should regain consciousness any minute now. It’s bright there is this
monotonous beeping sound my breath’s all out of control I’m trying to catch it
I’m trying to hold on to it but I can’t, as if I’m breathing from the outside.

I can feel a throbbing pain in the back of my brain I feel a sudden urge to clear
my throat I don’t know why.

I’m hungry I’m thirsty I’m longing for an explanation or at least for a glass of
syrup.

The throbbing pain has reached my ears it’s in every part of the attachment
now I’m sure it is invisible all I can see is my rising chest, rising and falling
beating its wings rapidly going up and down like the wings of a giant moth
only one flap left some of its scales got lost its wing is twitching nervously, it’s
lost control, spastically, cables robes tubes spreaders hooks lights on silver
plates my cut-up face reflected from above a gazillion times over there’s a
constant noise somewhere it’s following my chest onetwothreefourfivesix all I
want is to get a hold of that voice no delirium no alarm all I want is to get my
hands on that voice this is not my breath my voice I have no vocal cords I’m
thinking I’m panicking where are my vocal cords I’m thinking out loud – I
repeat where are my vocal cords

Where are my vocal cords the mantra remains unheard it’s just me thinking,
my mind revolving the question until the CORDS become the WHERE until
the words are melting into one and WHERE devours CORDS

Until I realize: I was sedated I was sedated

A blanket it’s a white sheet it’s been draped over my body there are two
straight lines from my toes all the way up to my trunk I want to mess with the
lines I start thinking about my feet my feet they feel like hardened clay and
there’s a voice approaching

Feeding time

Laughter.

It’s the Mediterranean menu today, no reason to get excited

I’m thinking smile I decide that from this point on things will only happen via
the physical attachment I’m hoping this might set things into motion I’m being
served a plate my head’s immobile visuals are compromised is this an orange
tray it’s covered with cups plates body parts a hand is putting a napkin on my
chest

Because of the spillage, you see

Footsteps approaching, a hand is getting in my way, a fork a knife a Bunsen

burner water being poured I can hear the water boiling there’s a pan it’s being

2
tilted a male nurse wants to drizzle water in my cup I am trying to use my
voice with all my might

WHERE ARE MY VOCAL CORDS

He accidently spills it all

Sorry

Massive water spillage almost like a piss

Nothing’s happening

He’s calling out for help

I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to you’ll be fine apologies

I’m waiting for the pain to set in

Nothing

Nothing whatsoever

He’s hovering and smiling, apologetic

The male nurse at the edge of my bed, a child trapped in a man’s body his
head his shoulders looming

Mumbling

Sorry

He stands and gets the pan

Serving generously

It’s a huge pan by the way

Pouring it all over me

I can imagine the warmth

I am assuming a different shape now the pounding in my chest is gone my

chest is an ocean of blisters my skin is forming blisters by the hundreds it all
looks like the surface of a boiling cauldron what’s not to like my skin is a
natural wonderland

The nurse child and I

We’re watching mesmerized – it rarely gets any better than this

3
The way the blisters spread the way they creep up to my face covering the
collarbone the throat it’s dancing blisters all the way up to my chin wandering
up the ascending slope below the lip the blisters are coming I even forget to
keep asking my brain for vocal cords

The door is shut and opened it’s the sound of rubber seals being compressed
it is reopened I think

Oh dear it’s yet another one of those spectators go stand over there next to
the nurse child

It’s doctor clean scrubs from before the one with hands like plates

Doctor Doctorus Palmus Tarantula he’s examining the blisters with bulging
eyes in my face investigating how the blisters spread nodding encouragingly

You’re the perfect guinea pig

SCALDING – GOOD FOR BUILDING RESILIANCE THE BLISTERS ARE A

LIFE SAVING RESPONSE THEY’LL CLEAR UP QUICKLY WE CALL THEM
FAST SPREADING BLISTERS AND YOU’VE BEEN A GREAT HELP TO
RESEARCH, TO US, YOURSELF

Whenever I look straight ahead I can see them everywhere they’re all around
my eyes they’re always there – I call them PermaBlisters when I think of them
I almost pee my pants I try to speak up

WHERE ARE MY VOCAL CORDS

Doctor Docturus gives me a smile, he reaches into his pockets, produces

something magical and says

That’s for dessert

It’s something made of skin, sausage-like tight reddish with good blood flow.
I’m scanning with my eyes I’m focused all my concentration’s focused on
dessert, I’m thinking of blood sausage Mettwurst Bratwurst Vienna sausage
Papawurst I mentally pause at the thought of Papawurst I’m smiling I think it
shows and I start asking myself if Papawurst usually comes with icing sugar

The two gentlemen are pleased and I am overcome with joy the nurse child is
bending over his elbows high almost touching my face he doesn’t want to get
infected by my blisters he hesitates he picks up a fork and a knife one at a
time his hands in gloves Doctor Doctorus explicitly approves I have this
uncontrollable inner joy about the Papawurst arms, hands, tendons, muscles,
ulna, radius and all those other body parts are cutting into Papawurst small
pieces almost wafer thin rolled up pieces surely they must be a special type of
dessert the finale I feel a sudden urge to laugh he opens my mouth

Maw

4
Doctor Doctorus is smiling he peeks over the rim of his glasses focused in his
undivided attention it’s almost a pleasure, nurse child spears rolled sausage
with his fork and slowly approaches my mouth very nice maybe I can taste
something – no nothing what a shame the nurse child to my rescue my jaw
muscles are to weak he’s moving my jaw opening and closing it a couple of
teeth are grinding dangerously despite the noise I can hear myself swallowing
I’m counting there’s 13 more sausage pieces to come I’m happy saliva
response working – I’d like to tell the nurse child I know gentle and that’s not it
but I’m sure I’ll get a different body soon enough

BIRTH

5
- Epic pushing

- just your average birth

- average

- No, actually it was quite unique

- Ah

- there she goes, boom, no, not at all, it was all a bit more complicated
than that

- Just imagine a child inflating a frog with a straw, the frog grows, its
body gets inflated, skin stretched to the max, it’s still ballooning up, it’s
one big fat balloon, it’s pressing on the abdomen while she is giving
birth, but this is not just a child blowing into a frog, no, this is more than
just air, no, this is the whole package, it’s amniotic fluids, tissue, all
those gland things, it’s all the extra weight that comes from being a
breeding machine and from having changed over the past nine months,
it’s the whole uterus story hormones and all, and now the child, let’s go
back to the whole blowing-into-the-frog-with-a-straw-image, now it’s all
pumping, filling up, contractions, it’s all pressing on the woman’s uterus
right where she’s carrying the child, the child wants to be born and it is
almost ready to pop, it’s almost ready to face it all, still packed in all
that stuff it used to grow in over the past nine months, but it’s still
stretching the belly so badly that the body’s stretched to paper-thin, the
woman’s skin around her area is stretched so tight you’d think it could
rip open any second, just before her head explodes because of all the
pressure and her headless body starts spilling streams of blood, it will
tear before that happens, right where the baby’s head is pressing out
until, yes, until something inconceivable happens, something hits the
body like a wave, a surge with head attached to a tiny body, and it’s not
just pushed through it’s tearing through, it’s raising a storm

But it’s not like mommy-to-be would notice, it’s only the people
surrounding her who take notice, it’s her birth facilitators, they know
what’s going on it’s not that real for her yet

- anyway it was quite complicated, her body had to suffer a few

damages, the perineum was gone

- But mommy – much to everyone’s regret – misunderstood, she read it

all wrong because she thought her baby had done it on purpose just to
cause her pain

- Although when it happened she didn’t even notice she got ripped open
by the head and by the surge that was going through her body, as the
child was forcing her way into the world

6
- This child should never have been born

- why is that

- should have died, in the womb, should have been stillborn

- it was safer in the womb, all safe and sound

- inevitable dependency that was

- It was a hatchery like no other, there can be no real belonging after

that, all that was missing was a sibling for the child, one she could grow
up with, in the same womb, everything provided

- Daddy would have had to blow in a much bigger load for that

- postpartum was not an option either, not after the baby’s tiny head had
ripped apart the perineum, but that’s not all it did, it also ripped out the
whole hatchery with it, with its tiny fingers and its tiny fists – she came
out holding on to a full load of insides, she ripped her mommy open so
well, she almost came falling out of her giant maw-vagina

- come to think of it, her assumption, presumption, that the baby must
have done it all on purpose wasn’t that far-fetched after all

- mommy never really expressed any of it, not out loud at least

- anyways, in spite of it all she asked to see the placenta – cause, you
know, cats like them because of the protein and so she wanted to see
the placenta but she wasn’t sure if it was actually hers – doesn’t matter,
she sniffed it but she didn’t bite into it cause you never know if the
nurses are watching

- After giving birth she could feel tiredness catching up with her, and she
could feel her ripped vagina as the painkillers started to wear off and
she thought it was unfair that she was all alone in her room while the
child was stored away somewhere and not with her, although they had
given it to her to hold it in her hands

- Arms would have been much better

- Right, much better - someone gave it to her and she didn’t quite know
how to hold it

- But she’d seen how to hold a child lots of times before, how to hold
other people’s children even, she’d already held godchild number 1
and godchild number 2 and godchild number 3

- She’d been collecting godchildren for quite some time, everyone

thought they weren’t planning any anymore

7
 - Looks like miracles do happen

- A girl – ripping her way out with tight fists – that’s at least one thing her
mother will never forget, being ripped apart by her little baby girl, she’s
slowly becoming aware of that

- While daddy out in the hallway suddenly realizes:

- This will be the only living thing we’ll ever create – that tiny girl and it
leaves him

- Well, it leaves him

- With a sad sad feeling

- no, not sad, relieved

- yes, it makes him sad. On some level he already knows that this will be
the only one of course, if anything, what with all the obstacles they had
to overcome

- fertility support service, fertility treatments, cloves in nightstand

drawers, appointments with the shaman, conception calculators, they
went all the way to in vitro, had handwritten fertility plans and all they
got was this one little girl

- Is that supposed to be a good thing

- It is from daddy’s point of view – he’s okay with putting all his love into
one child, can’t be a bad thing can it –

- But they were already looking for a bigger place, mommy had
ambitious plans, house with two nurseries, garden, maybe with a pond
somewhere where the frogs could lay their spawn, it’s back to the old
flat now, she thinks

- She’s disappointed

- A little. And a bit angry maybe. She thinks the child’s ungrateful, with
all this prep-work, going through labour, the stress – and then it
basically comes out and rips out all her facilities for future offspring

- Is she not consumed by motherhood, and love, then, is she not

defending her right to know just what it means to be a mother right
now, isn’t it all in her genes and all?

FAIRY TALE ABOUT THE STUMPY LEGS

Once upon a time, there was a king and he was married. His wife, the queen,
had been a witch. But she had abandoned all her gods and now she only

8
worshiped him. She had gotten down on her knees in front of him and started
praying. So much for being self-dependent. But no one seemed to mind and
all was well. They had been married for a long time, but their union hadn’t
been blessed with a child. After a few ugly miscarriages, she finally got a little
princess to crawl out of her. Little revolutionist that she was, the girl had
escaped from her mother’s rotten entrails already wearing a crown on her little
head. She looked so graceful and pretty with that crown on her glistening
head that she made every woman in the kingdom proud to be a woman. Her
father, however, never really took to her. He would have preferred a boy, a
strapper, an heir, a warrior and a fighter who could appreciate his wisdom. So
there he was, surrounded by all this disgusting femininity – subtle and child-
like as it was, and apart from taking a few things out on his daughter, he didn’t
quite know what to do with her. As it was, he had no choice but to look for a
silver lining. His daughter’s overflowing beauty made it easier for him. He
picked her up and had a throne built especially for her. It was an invisible
throne that had been designed by his alchemists. And from that day on, the
princess had to sit on that new throne that was built far too tall for her. She
couldn’t reach the floor with her feet, so she was afraid to go back and forth in
case she’d fall. This is what kept her in place. And if she hasn’t died, she’s still
sitting up there to this day.

DISCRETION

- There’s like fifteen different thoughts in her simultaneously

9
- You think

- Fifteen different thoughts and they’re all revolving around the same
thing – it’s so unfair, it’s so unfair, it’s so unfair

- Is it?

- Not the thought in itself

- the thought: it’s so unfair, it’s so unfair

- right, the thought is not per se, it’s only one thought, after all, not fifteen
thoughts altogether

- she’d like to be angry but she’d only be angry at herself and how would
that go with so much anger inside of her – it’s self-destructive, better
not go there

- what makes you say that

- they told her, better to keep it to herself cause once she starts
unleashing it, it could be threatening her life and threats to your own life
sometimes end badly, that’s only cause because people with such a
condition, they often display auto-aggressive behaviour, what’s not
coming out is coming to the surface one way or the other, with the little
burns, it’s a game: how long can I cut into my left forearm with my right
hand, genitals looking like minced meat, pins in pussy lips and so on,
they’ve got a lot of time on their hands you know

- maybe she’s not doing any of it, wouldn’t that mean she’s withholding
evidence

- that’s exactly what it is – and that’s why she’s only imagining doing it

- certainly not satisfying

- I think she’s given up on satisfaction long ago

- The needle marks, the desire to scratch a wound that’s only two days
old until it starts bleeding again, not treating ingrown toenails, burning
cigarette butts in your armpit, the bikini zone – imagining it, she’s not
brave enough to actually go through with it

- does this mean it’s all a matter of courage

- no, maybe she’s just not angry enough with herself

- because she’s already forgiven herself

10
- maybe she has, at least that’s what they told her, that she should,
would have to forgive herself, that it was essential to understand this
very instant – even if just mentally – that no matter where, or when, or
how, or how badly, how much she was involved, no matter who the
suspect was or is, that it wasn’t her fault whatsoever and that EVERY,
absolutely EVERY adult knows that any such deeds with minors are
strictly – yes totally forbidden and that’s what they kept telling her over
and over and that’s the mantra she keeps repeating to herself and she
keeps telling herself every day it’s like facing Mecca when you pray just
without actually facing it, and she keeps telling herself: I’ll have to
forgive myself, have to forgive myself

- And because she keeps telling herself that, sometimes to her own
reflection in the mirror, or to her reflection in a bus window, when it’s
dark outside, she now knows very well and digs it out and treats it like
a precious thing she pulls it from the back of her brain like it’s a present
from a different time and it’s so unfamiliar.

- The whole thing about forgiveness

- Yes, of course, cause it really doesn’t matter if she can forgive herself,
cause FORGIVENESS can never reach a place where it would make
any sense to her, it doesn’t affect her in any way cause there’s no
place or bit inside of her where it could hold on to and those who have
suggested it don’t know, they only did their best with what they know
and she was grateful and that’s why she now keeps telling herself over
and over

- I’ll have to forgive myself

- You have to when you’re brushing your teeth, when you’re folding your
socks, when you’re peeling your carrots when you’re tying up your
laces

- It’s understandable

- they told her it was good she told them. And then they started digging
deeper and deeper, they wanted to make sure they had all the facts –
naturally gently of course almost sympathetically still facts are
important, as is finding the right balance, has the child been lying or is
she still, everything has to be taken into account it was in her own
interest after all cause later they said:

- It’s all part of the coping process, you just have to let go

- and she was nodding along

- and she was talking when she felt like it

- maybe they had to admit, on some level, to themselves, that it was also
about curiosity, maybe just a little, that the subject of their investigation,

11
 one shouldn’t sweep anything under the carpet you know it’s all got to
be out in the open

- and they were talking about being considerate and maybe gradually
they were

JUSTIFICATIONS (FOND OF ANIMALS)

12
By the way – my dad, he was also very fond of animals. For every every letter
in the alphabet, he could think of an endangered animal, for every single letter
from Aa to Z he could – he could name an animal on the international list of
threatened species, that’s some sort of register – for every letter of the
alphabet apart from Z, I always suggested:

ZEBRA

That would made him laugh and then he’d tickle me – we had a very tactile
relationship – and then he always shouted

ZERO FUTURE. Cause it scared him that we were losing all those animals,
that they were all doomed or – he made sure I was aware of this – and he
was something of an optimist, he always called himself a realistic optimist, this
is how he described himself anyway, and because of this he gave the letter Z
to Zero Future instead. He taught me to respect nature and to act responsibly,
he had something of a sixth sense, he could predict the weather better than
the newspaper could – and there was none of this funny business, like five
minutes before the weather changes anyway or something or because the
insects were flying low, I still don’t know how he did it – but he was always a
quick learner when it came to – animals, animals were one of his favourite
subjects, what we could all do to stop this incredibly overwhelming developing
collapse of an eco system, he wouldn’t stop talking about it, it really pushed
his buttons, the whole thing. As if he wouldn’t want to live without the
bullfrogs. Or the mallard ducks. He said just imagine what the world would be
like without the mallard ducks. Imagine. I wouldn’t want to live in a world like
that. They’re doing it, it’s happening and they’ll keep doing it until even the last
one of the mallard ducks is gone. He always told us about how there were
only five big catastrophes in the last five Million years or so, like the dinosaurs
way back and how we as humans, us, how we had caused another one right
after, the first gigantic crime the human race has ever committed against our
planet and all. He could fill a whole dinner conversation with this stuff, with all
kinds of speeches, sometimes he’d even say the same thing twice, one
version was for my mom’s benefit and another broken-down version was only
for me. I really learnt a lot. I remember one time – it was quite a while ago –
there was this deer right in the middle of our drive way, it had just turned up
and it was staring at us completely unafraid. It was quite a remarkable image.
And it was destroyed within seconds when the deer - the fawn – all of a
sudden collapsed to the floor like literally in front of us, so dad takes me by
the hand pulls me up and we run to the scene of the accident like two over-
eager paramedics only to notice: there is an extensive wound on its left side –
it’s inflamed- suppurative – we were shocked at first, nervous and full of
adrenalin. But then my dad picks it up carefully and carries it into the house,
unconscious, feeble and weak, it didn’t even fight it. Little by little afterwards it
became stronger, my dad nursed it all the way back to health, he’d say he
was healing it. When we released it back to freedom, it was not a fawn
anymore but fully grown, still young but fully grown, I called it ‘finished’. This is
how animals became part of our games, we used to play fun with maps
together, this is Asia this is where the bullfrog lives – but not for long, this is
North America, this is where XYZ live – but not for long, this is Europe, this is
Switzerland, this is where you live – but not for long.

13
JUSTIFICATIONS

14
I think it’s time for a different perspective, people should know that no one
USED me, no one pretended to love or console or care about me just to toy
with me I want to set the record straight once and for all they have to amend
the law, French kissing should no longer be classified as a sexual act, there’s
children that demand French kissing from their parents they see it on telly all
the time there’s nothing wrong with it, we should all change the way we see
our love for children, all those in favour please stand and reveal yourselves,
I’m talking on behalf of my dad and not to mention on behalf of myself, if those
in favour could just raise their hands we’d all be shocked, if only for a second.
There’s this person who did so much for our kid, you know the one my child
adores so much, I mean we can hardly imagine all the good these people do.
That’s the problem. We could make a real difference and change the way we
all think about it. But we are holding on to SOMEONE LIKE THAT is always a
MOLESTER – this is not how we get people to talk about their love if all we do
is ripping them to shreds for it. This way no one will get up and say, yes, my
daughter had her first time with me and it did her all kinds of good. We should
break away from our fears and embrace our physical wellbeing, we should
change our sex education, we should keep an open mind. Someone who has
their best interest at heart should guide our kids, and when they ask to be
kissed and if they have a desire and a curiosity then maybe it’s just what they
need, given that they have the appropriate physical maturity.

MOTHER

15
- she went to see the doctor for a check up, I think

- yes full health check including breast cancer, feeling for lumps and so
on and she didn’t say when she was going to be back she was thinking
of stopping by her mom’s place, who was having the flu, she was all
alone and that’s why she wanted to pop by but she forgot to mention a
time and when she

- when she opened the door to the house

- she was carrying a cake box in the one hand – she’d stopped by the
bakery on her way back – and her purse in the other, she left the keys
on the dresser by the entrance door

- she was very quiet, wanted to surprise them, it was lemon cake and
strawberry tartlets for the little one, she tiptoed all the way through to
the study and peeked through the door

- but there was no one there

- no one there

- no, no one, strange she thinks where could they be

- They’re probably in the living room

- So she goes down the hall quietly but they’re not there

- maybe they’ve gone to the park

- it’s unlikely cause she saw their shoes when she came in they were
just the same

- Wellingtons

- That’s not important

- maybe it isn’t, but if it had been a pair of wellingtons it would have been
very unlikely that they’d gone to the park, a caring responsible daddy
would not go to the park and play when it’s raining outside
ESPECIALLY not without her wellingtons especially not when it’s
raining – plus we’re talking about a child here she’d put on her
wellingtons even when the sun is out, we all know that

- anyway, she goes to check the bathroom and the kitchen, but there’s
still no sign of them.

- She hears a noise coming from the bedroom so she goes to check in
the bedroom

16
- She knows something is a little off, doesn’t she

- it’s just a noise – a little creepy but – she sweeps over to the bedroom

- the door is halfway open and she’s peeking through

- what is it

- it’s two bodies asleep, one naked tiny person with a blanket covering
her bottom half and an adult heavily breathing in his sleep

- they must have worn each other out. What ever happened to ‘taking it
slow’

- listen, it gets better: the child is not even asleep cause all of a sudden
she opens her eyes and locks them with her mom, she raises her hand
and waves at her, almost tenderly

- mommy can’t believe she’s seeing this

- why not, she’s not that crazy, surely

- so what, it’s not like it’s doing her any good, is it

- She CANNOT BELIEVE the sheer SCOPE of it all

- And suddenly she’s thinking:

- She’s on my side of the bed

- she lowers her gaze, can’t bear the sight of it, she’s shaking it off

- another thought occurs

- maybe they took a bath and they were tired, not uncommon after sitting
in the tub, tubs can make you pretty tired

- but she’s still having trouble explaining her daughter’s smugness

- why is she not talking to her, at least one of them’s awake, she might
as well talk to her

- it’s probably because she doesn’t want to wake him, it’s been a while
since she last saw him take such a relaxing nap, waking him up now
just wouldn’t be right

- so that’s why she leaves them to it and starts cutting the cake or what.
She goes to put the kettle on, then calls for dinner, wakes them up
tenderly

17
- starts listening to his lame excuses

- they were fooling around in the living room and had worked up quite a
sweat so they took a bath, it was refreshing cause it was very hot and it
made them so tired that they had to lie down, the little one insisted on
having a nap in the parent’s bed like in the old days she wanted to lie
next to her daddy since they were having a whole dad and daughter
day to themselves so naptime was included in the package and so on
and so on

- and she stops asking questions and starts smiling cause she’s touched
the two of them were getting on so well

- maybe not even that

- He’s probably better off not commenting at all since she doesn’t seem
to be too keen on

- So she’s telling herself it can’t be that bad if he doesn’t need to explain,

she starts telling herself the waving and the smugness didn’t happen,
maybe she was just imagining it after her whole doctor’s appointment
confusion, surely

- No the scene she had just walked into was another one, certainly not
the same scene either side

- I think you’re right

- Cause otherwise it would be like her little one and her as if they were
sharing something intimate, and they were definitely not sharing
anything in public and certainly not behind closed doors. There was
definitely no sharing of any kind going on here

- apart from love, maybe, they share a love for the same person

- but that was it, really

- cause what she’s actually seeing when she’s peeking through the gap
is her husband lying on his back with his fingers in his daughter’s

- hair

- no, between his daughter’s legs, her daughter kneeling next to him

- why is she not screaming at the sheer sight of it, why is she not
rounding up the neighbours, witnesses

- but she is, she’s at the top of her voice, it’s heartbreaking, can’t you
hear

18
- I do, it’s the cry of motherly love and it comes from somewhere deep
inside of her, from where they were once connected, this is where it’s
coming from

- no, she can’t let it out, it’s dying slowly within her

- she drops dead – choked up by her own voice

- No, that’s a little too absurd – she turns to leave, still carrying the cake
box in one hand and her bag in the other, she picks up her keys from
the dresser, slowly draws the door shut without looking back, walks
down the stairs instead of using the lift, counts the stairs on her way
down, pushes the glass door open, heads towards her car, opens it,
gets inside, and starts driving

- Where is she going

- Police station

- A women’s shelter maybe

- I think she’s just driving for hours on end, it’s what they do in films, lead
characters always drive for hours after a terrible discovery, or an
epiphany, whatever, driving through the countryside for hours,
reflecting on their lives behind the steering wheel, making those life-
altering choices, she’s surgically taking it apart

- Already

- I think she’s not even thinking at all, she’s driving, no destination, it’s
just driving, random turnoffs, everything is unimportant, it doesn’t
matter where she’ll end up anymore, no more rational thoughts, it’s
random flashbacks bits and pieces of an image she’s pushing it away
so she can focus on the traffic lights

- She’s counting the pixels of the red light, how many pixels are there to
make one traffic light

- She’s counting road markers as she’s passing them by, some with

- She’s counting oncoming women drivers

- it’s like she’s gathering data

- she’s driving, passing by villages

- she’s plotting, planning her revenge

- on whom

19
- on him of course

- no, it’s far too early for that, she’s still feeling numb it’s paralyzing, she
doesn’t know where to start

- just wants to get away

- will she ever go back

- where is she going

- how would she know WHERE to go if there is NOWHERE to go to

- I mean WHERE does she think she’s going with this

- She’s not

- she is
she’s already there

- Where

- Nowhere

- What do you mean

- It’s simple: She’s not going anywhere with it.

- Not least because this image keeps popping back into her head, the
image of her daughter with her husband’s dick in her mouth. But it’s not
like it’s her daughter anymore it’s more like she’s, as if

- She’s not really going there is she, I mean, she’s not thinking straight,
it’s mostly images, flashbacks without words

- First of all she doesn’t feel sorry for her

- That’s right, there’s no sympathy. She’s not thinking my poor baby,

what’s he doing to her this is so awful and all that

- It’s more like: why is she doing this to me, I thought she was my
daughter, I thought he was MY HUSBAND. It’s from one woman to the
other. It’s not about an innocent child anymore. It’s about a younger
woman, and there are lots of women out there who are younger than
her

- It’s true the fact she’s doing it with HER HUSBAND lets her seem
different somehow. The thought that her daughter might not like doing
it never even crosses her mind.

20
- It’s because all her thoughts are based on her own feelings, she can’t
imagine her daughter’s not having fun doing it. She wasn’t even crying,
come to think of it she hasn’t cried in such a long time.

- No no she seemed pretty relaxed kneeling there next to him, sticking

her bum out

- That’s how she sees it. So it’s understandable that she thinks of her
like a woman and not as a little girl in need of protection anymore

- And that’s why she thinks of herself as weak, as in the weaker position,
she sees herself leaving in the car, driving away, while the two of them
are doing God knows what. There’s nothing she can do. What could
she do. What was she supposed to do.

- Is she supposed to run through the streets and shout

- It’s always the same: no one wants people to point their fingers at her,
please, no one’s going to believe she didn’t know her hubby was doing
their little girl, no one’s going to believe she didn’t know anything about
it. They would accuse her of tolerating it or worse of being compliant,
they’d say she was in on it people are great at spreading rumours and
pointing fingers, pointing their whole hands. And her mom, what with
having the flu and all, it’s complicated enough as it is, with her husband
in the ditch and so on – the thoughts are zigzagging through her mind

- She’s zigzagging into an accident

- Why

- because of all the zigzagging of course

- she seems perfectly calm from the outside, maybe a little bit too calm

- she’s just the same when she gets back home

- she opens the front door and says

- Hello, I’m home.

- Just like she always does.

- Hello, I’m home.

- And she lets him hug her, what took you so long, I sent you a text,
called you – she’s replying without noticing

- I was at my mum’s, we were taking a walk in the park then had some
cake – she remembers the cake box downstairs in the parked car, she

21
 couldn’t bear the thought of bringing it back up again, of having cake
with them

- she’s amazed how well she can carry on talking about her day

- she’s inventing a funny story about her mum, right there on the spot,
thinks I should have been an actress

- it’s just that her daughter

- right it’s her daughter

- it’s just that her daughter and her

- what’s going to happen with her daughter

- there’s no coming back from this

- what do you mean

- it means she stopped being a mother for her. They could have buried
her right there and then. And when she was trying, well aware that
something was broken, so when she came crawling begging trying to
score a hug begging for a hug with that look in her eyes she tried her
best not to

- not to beat her to death

- not to confront the dad

- no, it was the former, she tried her best not to beat her to death.
Because of her daughter she had to became a different person, there
was no more holding her head up high and such

- she’d rather cut off her lips than kiss her daughter

- I think that’s a bit extreme – all things aside she’d never been a perfect
role model of a mother

- at least not to start with

- it’s better now

- it’s definitely improved

- you live, you learn

- you do.

- As did the daughter. They became closer again eventually

22
 - Not very close though, not as close as you would think. But she was
talking a lot, confiding in her mom, and mommy did try her best to
listen, stories about school, about the anthill in the park, about goblins,
she looked at the drawings, hundreds of Ariels in all kinds of poses,
one after another

- she nodded encouragingly and tried her best, despite of

- despite of her husbands sexual preferences

- despite of her being a mom

- given the circumstances

- she tried to be a good mum

- and a good wife too.

JUSTIFICATIONS

23
He just felt like it. He had a bit of a desire, he was a bit horny and there was
something, well, just something in the air. Not one for not reading the signs
right. If the man – the dad – is all alone and there’s the child, all smooth and
warm and, well, almost purring somehow, grateful for tender loving care,
receptive, and she doesn’t mind where you touch her and where you want her
to touch you. Things just happen. And if they do, once you’re over a certain
threshold, things start to become a little blurry, like who initiated what and
even if it’s nothing serious sooner or later one thing will lead to another. The
dad will initiate whenever he feels like it and so will the child. Without planning
or anything one thing will lead to another, especially if daddy works from
home most of the time – like in my case – he would just ask me to join him in
the study, it’s not like it was premeditated or anything, it was just his decision.
I didn’t resist. On some level he knows the child’s enjoying it, why wouldn’t
she. He sees how she reacts; he sees that she’s compliant and that she’s
enjoying it. That’s all part of it. I mean if you love someone. You want to
cuddle with that person just as much as you want that person to be cuddly
with you. It’s normal. The only difference is that you normally do this stuff with
a fully developed woman. But that’s different, isn’t it. Or is it, it just has a
different quality, somehow, less intimate, less tender, but closer in some other
way. Doing it with a child is easy for the dad, it’s pure, the child gives him her
purity, she gives it to him body and soul. And once he’s tasted that purity,
once he’s seen that it’s still free of selfishness, it all just falls right into place,
it’s all so logical with a compliant child. You’re much more careful with a child,
more tender, much gentler cause she is much more vulnerable, a lot more
vulnerable, and sometimes the dad gets carried away because of all this
loving tenderness, the child is just too much for him. It’s all new for the child,
just as it is for you, the dad. You can be all in control and teach her what you
need. No need for shame, like, ever. Children don’t know anything and that’s
what you can start with. And they keep quiet unless you hurt them in some
way sometimes. But then it’s not intentional. He was always very apologetic
when he hurt me physically.

Besides, with children it’s like that –

You stroke their hand

And they stroke yours

You poke their nose with your finger

They try to reach for yours in return

It’s all about copying and patterns, absolutely normal.

And I could tell he felt sorry whenever he had to make excuses or when he
had to threaten me cause I had almost revealed our little secret, but
sometimes I could tell he didn’t feel like doing it but somehow he had to
protect me. It would not have been better for me if they had taken him away
and in that instant I knew perfectly well he’d rather hug me than punch me.
He’d rather have rocked me to and fro and done the airplane with me than
punch me.

24
I also believe at some point it was more like a ritual or like a compulsion
somehow, something that became part of his everyday routine, just like when
he was about to come and he started to lose himself and of course I’m there
and I can feel it, I can feel how he turns all soft and vulnerable inside. He just
had to do it. He felt this desire. It was like an uncontrollable urge somehow.
It’s just like with the frogs, you know, when you catch them and you start
inflating them with your straw until they explode, you know it’s torture and that
you shouldn’t be doing it, but there was also this tenderness and his
instructions and then you do it again and again because of the positive
outcomes. I think he felt the same way. The way he used to look at me
afterwards, with this mixture of loving care, of knowing and guilt, and I couldn’t
help but feel sorry for him, it just crept up on me, all the way up from the
spine. He was so uncomfortable with it, he had to tell me daddy won’t call on
you this way again. And I just didn’t react at all, cause I was confused and I
couldn’t make sense of it cause I wanted to be close to my dad, it was the
most important thing for me and I couldn’t comment because I just felt left
alone. But he always kept coming back to me after a few days. His resolutions
scared me at first but then I understood that they were just talk, they were just
part of our ritual.

JUSTIFICATIONS (TRAVEL)

25
Whenever he went on a trip, every single time, he always brought something
back for me. There was always something. I know people will say, you know,
it’s really easy for kids, they’re easy to please, they’re enthusiastic about a
piece of melted and painted plastic, and I’m sure there is some truth in that,
but I think it’s still a quality people should try and hold on to, anyway, he
always always always used to bring something back for me, you could have
bet your life on it, the most wonderful and random things, and I used to be so
enthusiastic about them. That was my dad, he would secretly slip something
into my pocket and then give me this sneaky look over the rim of his glasses.
No one else knew, this was our secret way of communicating. No need for
language, we knew about each other and that was always the greatest gift he
could get me, and it was the most valuable one. Even if you were to stack all
ChristmasEasterSouvenirsBirthdaypressies in one huge tower, it would still
not be as rich and as high up in the sky as this.

It was just – it was just as if we were two peas in a pod, the two of us, it was
as if I knew there and then I’d never find anyone else who’d understand me
the same way daddy did.

Though I kept my distance at times, because of his special nature I had to

keep my distance sometimes, I didn’t want to mess with the magic we had, I
didn’t want to ruin it, I wanted to observe so I could understand it one day

I still don’t understand

But it doesn’t matter

He’s passed on his pride to me.

My grandma encouraged this, whenever I spent a weekend at hers, she sort

of did by showing me their photo albums and by turning the interleaves in awe
and pointing at a photo of my parents when they were young, my dad with
one arm round my mom’s shoulders, protecting her, loving and caring, almost
shy, I’m amazed, my mum is smiling into the camera in a cheeky way, wild
curly hair almost looks like dreads, did it on purpose, back then, there’s a
nose ring twinkling in her face. She’s sitting in the back seat of some car,
beige leather seats, a gravel path seen through the back window, everything
looks like spring, must have been close to a field, granny tells me he rescued
her from a rough time, he was her saviour, her hero. He was a respectable
person, you just had to comply with his wishes somehow, but having said that
there wasn’t much to disagree with really.

AT THE DOCTOR’S

26
- They’re on their way to the doctor’s.

- They are?

- That’s right, they’re on their way to the GP, his surgery’s about five
minutes away by car

- Five seems to be their lucky number, five different doctors in two years

- And not one of them, no not a single one of them, could put a
successful end to this sob story

- They’re in the surgery; there’s the waiting room, the hall, the
receptionist, table, magazine, newspaper, kid’s corner

- The girl is heading towards kid’s corner almost immediately

- Was this not the surgery with the marble run

- It was, she’s having a quick look around the corner before she gets
started with the marble run, she lets them run down one after the other,
then they run in multiple marble clusters

- she can still hear the sound of those running marbles

- Why did they have to see the GP

- I was just about to tell you

- Is it to do with her tailbone

- No, not really

- So it was because of the tree falling incident

- That’s right

- No, it isn’t

- It’s as close to a regular check-up as you can get

- Mom and daughter have arrived a little early, so mom keeps the
receptionist occupied with a conversation about the neighbourhood and
some antique shop

- doctor enters

- he does

- he used to work for Doctors without Borders

27
- it’s been a while, seems full of borders now

- please

- Mom mentions a little problem the daughter’s been having, she’s

caught something between her legs, probably from the pool, infection
or the like

- He asks if she wants to stay in the room while he’s examining her

- She nods enthusiastically

- He asks the girl to undress

- She does, no ifs and buts, he asks her to lie down on the table

- She’s lying down, no ifs and buts

- he starts examining her cautiously

- mom is holding her hand, talking to her about upcoming holidays or

something, anything to keep her occupied, to kill the time, it seems as if
she’s trying to make it easier on her

- but this is not exactly new to her

- nor are the stories her mum usually tells on such occasions

- it seems to the doctor that the girl is offering herself to his invading
hand

- does it surprise him

- he doesn’t dare to look at the mother of course, he wouldn’t want to

show a reaction, any reaction, shrugs it off quietly

- he quickly finishes his examination, promises the girl the itching will
stop soon, suppository and some vaginal cream will do the trick, it’ll all
be back to normal soon

- while the girl is doing as she’s told and getting dressed, he starts
talking to the mother, he asks her to leave the room and wait outside,
he’d like to have a quick word with her daughter, better if he could just
discuss the matter privately

- the girl is back in her tights, looking at

28
- she’s looking at appliances on the table, at his children’s photographs,
mom’s talking quietly, fast, almost muffled, but she doesn’t seem to
notice

- Besides she’s only five years old, it’s inappropriate for a five year old
girl to be alone in a room with her doctor, even if he seems to be a
decent guy

- Until she’s asked to wait for mommy outside, it’ll only be a few minutes,
okay, no worries, she really likes the marble run

- She’s called back in, the mother stands all serious, maybe even a little
bit concerned, it’s hard to tell, it’s more a combination of things

- And the little girl is really looking the part next to the tall doctor, next to
her mom – she seems tiny

- He starts off with saying: that’s quite a sensitive area down there.

- Mom’s nodding in agreement.

- It’s very important that you keep up good hygiene down there. He turns
to her mother: Does she understand the word ‘hygiene’. So he turns
back to the girl and explains how important cleanliness is down there.
Yes, you have a fungal infection. Hence the suppository and the
vaginal cream. Well actually, it’s not just one little fungus it’s multiple
fungi, but they’re tiny, and that’s why they are invisible to the naked
eye.

- Mom and daughter are nodding along.

- That’s why it’s itchy. We don’t know where the tiny fungi came from.
Could be the water in the pool, or maybe the soap you use or a special
bath soak, or it could be – well – maybe someone touched you down
there. Or maybe you did touch yourself.

- He turns to the mother for approval. She’s still nodding enthusiastically

- The best advice I can give is not to touch yourself down there anymore
– unless it’s for washing

- She’s nodding.

- Did she understand all that

- It is unlikely.

- It’s the mother’s turn now: I told her. Lots of times, you know. I told her
lots of times. I watched her do it. But what am I supposed to do,
handcuff her

29
- She’s not doing that, is she, I mean she’s not complaining, is she,
whining, she is not out of her wits. Please. She’s bound to come up
with a solution.

- never go see this wanker of a doctor again maybe

- No

- So what

- She starts yelling at him, you and your doctor’s arrogance, with your
little surgery where you can act all bossy, when all you do is diagnosing
rheumatoid arthritis, the god of old people’s disease, the healer, who
doesn’t know the first thing when it comes to children

- But that’s not the issue here, the question is what’s she doing

- She’s storming out

- Embarrassed

- Mumbling under her breath, something about an allegation and

impertinence

- feeling embarrassed, with her eyes cast down

- or maybe she’s listening to what he has to say, keep an eye on it and

he goes on to give another speech about the importance of hygiene,
something about pH-levels in vaginal fluid, she’s only half listening,
takes her daughter, says much obliged and leaves

- so that’s it.

- Sure, it’s not like he was insinuating anything

- No, he wasn’t

- Not at all.

30
FINDING NR 1

It’s a face that’s been torn to shreds it looks as if one half of it got stuck to the
floor there’s one eye cast downwards bloodshot and bruised the other one
cast upwards to the sky or the ceiling maybe parts of the brain oozing out at
the back of the head brain entrails or whatever medical terms and my
scientific interest is not my first and then it hits me maybe I can touch him will
he be warm his face in shreds not whole I think I think ‘not whole anymore’, as
if he’s waiting for someone to repair it any minute now, I am assuming it’s still
fixable that someone can repair the damage

I stroke his hair, I put my finger in the little puddle under his skull, I draw a line
from the puddle until I run out of fluid, it feels strange like paint

I continue drawing the line up to my dress, repeatedly dipping my finger into

the puddle, extending the line up till it reaches me, I draw over my hemline up
the seam of my dress like steps of a stair, it looks like a tree I think, its roots
are in his head, it turn into a trunk on my dress the branches quite a few
branches not a lot of leaves cause they are difficult to draw, and it’s slightly
stubborn paint

31
JUSTIFICATIONS (FINAL SPEECH)

My dad – it’s different with other dads and that’s OK. Being a victim to hostility
or just the thought of being a victim to hostility, this lack of understanding from
the outside, this attitude, the misconception that you can generalize
something until I’m almost losing my mind in all the diagnoses, pieces of
advice, well, bits and pieces more than helpful advice, you just start losing you
head. This lack of understanding from the outside that paternal love can be
expressed in many different ways and that people see things differently.
Experience it differently. That there are subtle differences in love between a
man and a woman, between a man and a man, it’s not important that it’s still
unacceptable when a father and a daughter fall in love, but it exasperates me.
Who are you to tell me who I want, who I am allowed to be with, it’s all
temporary anyway, and I am human too, I have a right to chose. How many
questionable relationships are there out there that are not condemnable by
law. There are Millions and Millions of them. And just because we share the
same blood we’re being stigmatized as unhealthy or degrading, sickening.
What’s really sickening is that I’ll never be able to prove that it was not my
father, it was never my father who distraught me, it was other people, it was
what they thought and said, what sad times we must be living in if
controversial love is met with this much adversity, and why am I the one who’s
singled out, the one that was molested, I am the one who’s met with an
injustice when the crime I’m suffering from has so little to do with the person I
love but lots to do with the way people talk about it, it’s them who make me
who I am and not my love, this desperate love I feel and it’s being questioned
just because it’s so desperate and it’s desperate cause we’ll never ever be
able to fully consummate it. How many people are missing out on such unique
love, they are missing out on it and they don’t want me to have it and it makes
me love him even more desperately than ever before it makes it bigger more
unfathomable, it turns desperation to despair. What am I supposed to do with
myself if it’s all about the people on the outside, I constantly have to face
other people and I’m all alone inside

My mother is the worst, I can’t seem to hate her she could never give us her
blessing and I can’t blame her, but the way she turned against me, not against
the two of us, just against me when I was little, when I was still a little girl, the
way she taunted me

My dad always saw me as his lover and he’s made sure I knew what it meant.
I want to be left alone, I want to silently disintegrate if that’s what it takes. But I
want them to see that it’s not our blood that makes it all impossible, I
WANTED this and they’re just shrugging it off, they’re not even trying, they
don’t want to understand, they only want to judge and reject.

Love first and foremost manifests physically and it’s not my fault it happened
to me early, that I got to experience it earlier than most. Maybe a little too
early. I think they’re all jealous cause I have been accepted and loved for
such a long time and they simply haven’t, I went straight from being nourished
and loved in mommy’s womb to being nourished and loved in a relationship, I
went straight from one love to another.

32
JUSTIFICATIONS

At some point, he expected something in return, which was understandable –

nothing special, it was all part of the give and take – as his daughter I just
understood. I was excited to be giving something back.

That some people would consider it to be wrong or unethical or illegal didn’t

occur to me at the time.

It was me who initiated it, it was me who invited him for sleepovers, my
ignorance was running away from me with rapid strides. Who’s to say who
started it, what it was, who initiated what. I was just pulling back the covers
and let things take their natural course, it was me who made our love
possible. It’s nothing short of an invitation if a little girl is sitting on a chair with
her legs spread wide and her knees bend reading on the balcony, playfully
splaying her legs, so he can sneak a peek at her panties. It’s all so obvious

It's up to every single little girl to come to terms with it.

It’s easy to see that children are sending out these signals, all so pure and
vulnerable and in such a naive way, it makes resistance difficult for a dad and
there’s no need for people to act all surprised and shout: look at what you’ve
done, look at the mess you have created. It’s the grown-ups who are
responsible for it, it's the parents who started it and nourished it and watered
it, it’s all down to conception and to good foster care and nourishment – no
one expected it to get this messy but that’s just what you get.

It's like when you grow salad and the slugs climb into your salad patch and
they wriggle all their way to the baby heads cause they like the baby lettuce
best.

33
SURGERY NR 2

Surfacing once more, focussing the eyes getting vision back the shroud is
gone must mean that I'm alive for a moment I'm alive again surrounded by
chrome and steel again like a person fresh out from the freezer – there’s a
peeping sound – my ears are in good working order I am happy I know that
it’s a privilege, I make a mental note to inform the nurse child when I get my
voice back to inform the nurse child he should clean my ears immediately
inside and outside, inside cause I want them to function flawlessly for a long
time and outside cause I want to do something nice for them. How will I ever
be able to communicate all of this to the nurse child, I am alone I know
because I can see my face reflected in the slabs of steel something’s moving
what is it

Ah, I see – it's Doctor Docturus Tarantula, call me Doc Palmus he says, giving
me a nudge, throwing me a glance: You can call me Doc Palmus. I’m so
happy, honestly, we’re really close the two of us I can call him Doc Palmus
now

I’m watching him closely

My legs are bent both feet on the chair the shroud has been swapped for a
green- white piece of clothing I’m not sure how stylish it would be spread
between my legs between my spread legs where this hand is now emerging
drenched in some red substance there’s a noise I don't know where it's
coming from – between my legs I imagine that’s what it must sound like in a
butcher's shop in the back room in cold storage in the slaughter house maybe
in fact I'm grateful it brings back a memory the steel and the face weren’t able
to retrieve an image I imagine a smile the drenched hand in all kinds of red
colours reappears there’s a head attached to it it’s Doc Palmus I’d like to call
out to him in the hope that we can work out what's wrong with my vocal cords
at some point Doc Palmus looks up and meets my eyes no words needed his
encouraging caring eyes we have an understanding

There were complications

complications is too strong a word

good news

We discovered – well – below the shroud we found that you were pregnant

pregnant – were pregnant

We're not sure how long the child was growing in there

It’s slightly more mature – but doing rather well

We just delivered it, well – you delivered it, of course

34
the boy resisted his own birth to the detriment of his own health

He pinches me amicably

Well there was a lot of kicking and fighting his own birth a remarkably strong
boy he – how shall I put it – fought it even though he was long overdue
according to the ultra sound – it took some time – but he gave up his initial
resistance in the end. Look at it this way – he liked it so much in mommy's
tummy he didn't want to come out, his teeth are fully developed that only goes
to show that

He’s raising his left forearm

really goes to show there’s some remarkable - bite marks

I cringe I want to tell them I want to see my child – there’s nothing

I'm crying out – still nothing

My eyes are flicking towards my lower body, Doc Palmus understands, my

gratitude is almost flushing out my eyes

No pain – not yet anyway

It'll kick in soon enough – don’t worry

He smiles reassuringly, giving me much needed balm for my soul

About your condition, it wasn't just me he tried to eat

As I mentioned earlier – he really didn't want to come out, not even a little bit

That’s why

Well, you’ve got the one. It looks like it’ll stay that way. On the plus side, you
can now focus on your career 100 percent.

First we’ll apply the dressing – woop – isn’t it great, now that’s joyful, YOU
must feel joyful you’ll be a wonderful mother I’m sure oh that well we had to
take out a few things and store them over there

I turn to see a pile of blood, a few entrails, shreds of skin and lungs

We had to take action – otherwise I’m sure he would have pulled it all out with
him, believe me, such a strong boy

I reckon you do feel a lot lighter

Maybe we’ll have to do another round of cutting

35
I’m thinking I’m thinking out loud: JUST GET RID OF IT

He concludes with wiping his dirty forearm on a piece of my clothing, I notice it

I appreciate it, on some level he’s giving back at least some part of me

36
JUSTIFICATIONS

When this whole thing first started between the two of us, he didn't realize
what it meant, not really, not fully, I think, it was tender loving care at first then
all of a sudden it had turned into something more – we both missed the actual
moment it happened cause there had always been something between us,
from the very instant I shot out of my mother's womb – looking back I only
remember we didn't do anything else apart from kissing the first time it
happened, he was too emotional, came into my bedroom, maybe after a fight
with my mom, I'm not sure about this maybe it's just speculation, so he got me
into bed instead. It was not like an actual decision, he hadn't planned to start
anything with me that instant not like this is going to happen. He was always
drawn to me and to my body he told me he liked bathing me and changing my
diapers or putting body lotion on. He was always fascinated by my body as
something uniquely beautiful, sweet, tender, smooth somehow, exciting and
squeezable, he loved caressing me and watched me getting goose bumps, he
liked tickling my inner thighs, it even became part of our later ritual, there was
always something happening between us. Although I’d like to shout it from the
rooftops and tell everyone about our mercilessly illegitimate love, I had to
keep quiet, he thought it was none of anyone's business. It had always
bothered him when he and my mom were watching me sleep in my bed or in
the car and my mom started to fantasize about my future, he’d always get so
jealous, physically jealous. Those were the moments he desperately wanted
to pick me up and be close to me, he wanted to feel my breath, wanted to
make sure I'm part of him, belonged to him, he knew he’d never want to share
me with anyone else. I was always his little wife, his second wife, first wife I
should say. At some point, I must have been about half a year old, it had
already turned into something sensual he told me. I can't say I didn't know
what I was doing and he – well he was well aware it wasn't normal to kiss
your child between her legs.

I’ve always been a little too short for an adult. I think we both knew that.

37
FINDING 1+

I’m finished with drawing my tree, such a big tree with three solid branches,
one for mommy one for daddy one for me though I am actually the whole tree
the trunk the roots is daddy still with me I’m checking his bodily functions I tilt
his hips is there a reaction all the warmth drained from his body just a little it's
only temporary continuity I don’t believe I am excluding myself from continuity
that’s why I’m sure he’ll be warmed up in no time movement will help I am
tilting his hips rocking them from side to side

38
THE FAIRY TALE OF THE FALLEN ANGEL

Once upon a time there was a princess who served her kingdom well. She did
everything for it cause it meant the world to her. But one day a prince came
along and he was more beautiful than anything she had ever seen in the
whole kingdom, and the prince shot her a glance from the side and then from
the front and then from the other side and then from the back, from all four
directions he could see her heart was not as pure as his, and when she
approached him she realized he was an angel. And she also saw that he was
dead. So she took his hands into hers and promised him she’d never let go –
why should she anyway. And she saw that he was a dead angel and when
she tried to kiss him he burst into a thousand pieces, his face a pile of angel
shreds and then she realized it was up to her to put him back together. So she
started crafting, sticking gluing the pieces back together and she did
everything with great care and was driven by her feelings. While she was
working she swore to herself well while she was working on him she swore to
herself to love this angel ‘til the end if he’d only come back to life for her. So
as she had fitted her last piece and he was all complete again, almost risen
from a pile of broken glass, he became corporeal set himself into motion
gained a voice a breath and all sorts of other things. She was watching
curiously to see how things would come together. Then as the angel was
complete she realized it was her father – the angel had turned into her father.
And because she had sworn to honour and to love him – to cherish and love
him ‘til the end if he’d only come back to life for her – she kissed him
passionately and learnt all there was to learn about cherishment and love.
And they were lovers evermore.

39
DEATH

- Before he went he waved at her. Then he threw himself off the cliff. So
first he turned and then he threw himself off. He waved at her cool-
headedly, calmly, with all his wits about him, he had left a will a list that
set out what to do with his flat, with his belongings, the dog and with his
Velosolex. He floated forwards for an instant and then gravity just
pulled him down, it happened quickly, he hit the ground with a thud,
turned into muesli almost tenderly, floating to the ground.

- But his actual story is quite a different one, he wasn't calm at all,
nothing was in order, there were only scribbled notes, scattered
thoughts, not even in his own hand people said, he didn't float down to
the ground, maybe she had made it all up – no – she definitely had
made it all up, she had made it all up in school

- School in session, nervously scratching off the gum from under her
table, gum like rocks pointing downwards from the underside of the
table

- while he was making final preparations

- preparing for it – was he really. Did he not just act out in the heat of the
moment – is it not always just about the heat of the moment

- Personally, I think, he was thinking of her the whole time, imagining

how she would hear about it, how she would take it, how she might not
be able to take it all in, not express her feelings until later, images
passing through his mind while he’s preparing, there’s not much to
prepare, he’s gone through it lots of times before, often enough, he
was prepared for all sorts of occasions incidents, accidents, accidental
incidents, in any event.

- Most importantly, he kept all his prep work to himself so people

wouldn't notice

- But sure her head is buzzing with ideas and images now she can’t
shake them off, he’s all alone on some cliff, uh no, she's with him, he
drove her all the way up to the top of the mountain, dragged her to the
lookout, where he’d told her repeatedly that in case she ever were to,
we know the place – she's sensing it, she knows it's going to happen

- Don't forget about the apples

- What

- you know, the apples, she only wanted to pick some apples and then
she would discover

40
- Well this well-known lookout, you know, the one he used to point at,
the one he used to drag her to from the car to, he always had to
unbuckle her seat belts cause she was digging her little fingers so
deeply into the leather seats, she was practically glued to them, never
wanted to get out of the car, he had to do it, bend over, reach across
her belly with his left hand right where the hip bone is, push a little
further, push the red button, buckle out of latch

- I think we all know how to release a seat belt – thank you

- seat belt released rolled up and out of the way, starts to move like just
coming back to life

- the seat belt

- no, she did, her

- I see

- they get her out of the car, he’s pulling her impatiently through the
bushwhack, no time for sympathy or for objections, she’s quiet cause
she knows it's pointless to try and convince him otherwise

- she’s really that self-reflexive – How old is she in this

- maybe nine – or just a little older

- okay let's say she's nine years old, is she really capable of dealing with
such complex emotions, convictions – you name it

- If anyone, she is

- She must be scared though

- I think she’s suffering through it silently, it's not her first time and it
certainly won’t be her last, so she’s trying not to let her calves be
scratched too much by the bushes

- Now they’re at the lookout, both of them

- They’re already up there, that was fast

- that's right, they’re already up there, they have reached the tower, it's a
huge, rotten wooden tower in the woods surrounded by firs only half its
size, the tower’s looming high above the firs she’s trying to figure out
how many times you would need to stand on someone else’s shoulders
so you’d be just as tall

- I don’t think she’s doing that, why would she be doing that, she
wouldn’t care about that

41
- So what do you think she’s thinking

- what his plans are

- and what are they

- he wants her to understand something

- right he wants her to understand just what could happen if she ever, in
case she ever

- he knows it’s bound to happen at some point

- if worse comes to worst – as I said – only if push comes to shove, what

he would do to her, you know, a little accident no one would know.
Seriously, I don’t think anyone would do something like

- it’s not actually happening, he’s not threatening her, he’s threatening
himself, using her for it though, cause he’s been having doubts for a
while now, they’ve been sneaking up on him, just a little bit more each
day, he’s starting to have doubts, yes, he’s got to pull himself together,
he’s got to remind himself - what is it he’s got to remind himself of

- he’s got to remind himself that he’s in control, he’s pinching her puppy
fat

- he’s telling himself it’s his own right his jus primae noctis, he’s slowly
pushing her away, when he’s having doubts he always tells her straight
up how things are, he can always read the despair in her face – when
they’re having breakfast, getting ready for another day, both of them,
he can always read the despair in her face, her pleading, silently
begging him to – it always breaks his heart

- not just his heart, it hits much more in him

- WRONG, he is enjoying it, it hits him right in the groin, the spongy
body, he loves seeing disappointment in her eyes

- That’s why he’s having such a good time on their tour up to the lookout

- As I’ve been saying, he’s been having these doubts recently, he’s
taking the supermarket smiles, the winks he receives from the lady at
the checkout, it’s strange, it’s conspiratorial, he’s taking it all personally,
she’s told everyone, he didn’t notice, the lady next to him, she knows,
she knows his preferences, he’s about to tell her how he could also
silence her, but then he stops himself, he’s holding on to – no one
would know, she’s not talking to anyone – in the old days, I just
remembered, in the old days he was actually delighted she could keep
things to herself so well, it made him feel much closer to her – at

42
 breakfast, when he was watching her with that look in her eyes, full of
disappointment, watery eyes, their deepest blue, whenever he’s
looking into her eyes over breakfast, he’s just – he just can’t go on this
way – he almost wants to fall down on his knees in front of her mother
and confess

- And ask for her daughter’s hand in marriage

- it’s exactly what he wants, every morning over breakfast when he’s
looking into her eyes, shivering, cause she knows exactly how to push
his buttons, she knows exactly how she makes him feel

- but asking for someone’s hand in marriage is certainly the last thing on
his mind

- no he’s more concerned about her making a scene in front of her mom,
that’s why he’s always making up, he’s back in her bed the same
evening, he’s missed her, the screaming disappointment in her eyes
just made his blood boil with concern, he knows how much she needs
him, he knows they can’t keep their hands off each other – so

- they’re back at the tower and she’s measuring, drawing by eye and
index finger, how many times she could stand on her own shoulders to
be just as tall

- while he’s, while he’s putting one, catching his breath and then starting
to, quietly, to forcefully put one, he’s actually quite impressed with his
ability to

- look at me I’ve just come up a thousand stairs, hands on the rail all the
way, the plateau, first I put my left leg over, swinging it all the way over,
my toes catching the first crossbar from below keeping my balance –
doing the same thing with my right leading with my toes hooking it in
that ledge will do, it will be enough to stand on, careful, I’m softly
placing my feet, hands on the rail, warily, I’m letting go one hand after
the other, it’s important to keep your balance for a final wave towards
the world, towards you until I finally let go and fall towards it
downwards to the ground.

- And she’s smiling to herself a little, he’s not supposed to see of course,
softly telling herself: I’ll be joining you instantly.

- I’ve been thinking, I don’t think he would articulate it this way, I think
he’d simply, he’d simply make her understand that if she ever talked
he’d leave her – clean and simple

- Threats like that are not like, I mean to me something like that is, he
can shove it up his bottom, I don’t care

- You were saying something about apples earlier

43
- Right, she’s coming home from school, it’s the day she

- The day she had been studying said rock formations hanging from the
underside of her desk. It’s the day she’s coming home from school,
let’s say it’s 23 March, so she’s coming home from school that day,
she’s got her own keys, always has, she knows her mom’s about to be
home soon

- That’s not the apples I was talking about

- So which apples were you talking about

- I was talking about the ones she’s being offered despite the fact she
doesn’t want, she doesn’t want any, no way – especially not those
apples

- Why does it have to be apples

- It’s not about the fruit, you know, it’s more about, I mean, just imagine
an orange for a moment, or kiwi or some other bleeding piece of fruit –
I know you have to understand it’s part of the story, after the funeral,
they’ll all be like, you know, what’s the word – offered to her by her
mom, right after the funeral she’ll be saying here’s an apple, you’ve
hardly eaten anything

- But she’ll go berserk, she can’t stand even the smell of them

- It’s not like they’ve roasted him over a bonfire at his own funeral or
anything, apple stuck in his mouth, no reason for her to develop such
an aversion

- You think this is funny

- No not at all, but all this talk about a piece of fruit

- It’s about the – this is about the funeral party

- Which didn’t really happen, otherwise she wouldn’t be this hungry

- I think you’re right

- She’s going home right after, isn’t she

- Don’t know

- But that’s what they’re thinking, right

44
- OK, so she’s on her way back home, she’s not looking at anyone, can’t
look anyone straight in the eye, she’s made a fist with her – it was her
left hand – so she’s made a tight fist with her left hand and she’s

- Very tight, you can see her white knuckles

- Really

- What has she got, what is she holding on to – is it a piece of apple

- No it’s a single nail

- Rusty nail

- Not quite, it’s one of her daddy’s fingernails

- The only thing that’s left of him

- She almost lost it, it almost slipped from her fist as someone was trying
to hug her right after the burial of daddy’s urn

- Isn’t he a catholic, should be a coffin, shouldn’t he

- No, it has to be a crematorium and an urn, obviously

- No. it has to be an open coffin, so she could see his face once more,
and his head on satin, surrounded by flowers

- Right, his face, the one she sees reflected in her own

- Yes, and now she’s right there next to his coffin with her daddy’s
inflated face looming next to her, powdered nose, they’ve done all they
could to make him look like himself again, they’ve tried to put him back
together as best as they could

- They did, it took the mortician days to reconstruct, he only had three
days and he spent them all reconstructing daddy’s face, skipping lunch,
he certainly deserves a lot of praise but they didn’t spend a lot of time
on the rest of his body – he’s missing all his nails

- I’m sure that’s not what happened, he’s missing his nails cause he had
ripped them out himself, every single one of them, one after the other.

- It’s only his nail beds on show and the mortician didn’t even notice,
there’s nothing where the nails should be, there’s only his bare skin
and little creases where the nails cut into his flesh

- I can’t even imagine how you’d do something like that: how do you rip
off your own fingernails, it must have taken him hours, it must have
been so exhausting, at least it requires ample determination and a

45
 strong will – it just goes to show how determined he was, maybe he
had to use tools for it, he probably had to loosen the nails with a
hammer then stripped them off, I mean it’s all just hardened skin in the
end isn’t it

- It’s not very nice to look at, I can tell you, her standing next to the coffin
memorizing his face in that instant, memorizing it perfectly,
concentrating only on his face, its peaceful features, the many bumps
morticians simply can’t smooth over

- I think he used donor skin to sew up some of the more substantial

gashes – it was quite horrible with his open head and all that – eyes
open and dull

- They’re definitely not open

- OK. Let’s say they’re closed

- No, they were open, they kept them open, they were a strange and
rare green colour with only one brown dot inside

- She’s reminiscing, remembering how his eyes had matched the water
under their float on a sunny and bright summer day, how the sunlight
had broken through the water and left beams of light, just like his eyes

- So we’ve agreed - his eyes were open no one cares about what colour
they were – apart from her that is – the one on the lower half that one
is bloodshot though, blood red veins all through the white in his eyes,
he’s missing one ear on this side

- It was blown away

- Hair all tousled, scrubby – his face stuck half way in the ground

- You mean in the coffin

- No I’m thinking more of the actual ground

- You shouldn’t be thinking, we’re still with right here next to the coffin –
how can you just go somewhere else while we’re in the middle of

- It’s because

- It was her who found him wasn’t it

- Right, she found him alright

- Was she looking for him

- I guess

46
- I’m sorry but I’ll have to return to, I’ll have to insist his eyes were open,
they were open and all dried out because he had to cry so much from
pulling off his fingernails

- It was her who rearranged them wasn’t it

- The one nail cutting into her flesh, she’s holding on to it so much with
her left hand, while she’s studying his face, mumbling, saying her
goodbyes in her own head

- will someone please tell me what any of this has got to do with apples

- apples

- and with their smell

- they smell – that’s what fruit does

- I know, it’s because they remind her of the attic

- That’s right. And then her mom goes ahead and offers her an apple.
You’ve hardly eaten anything, would you like an apple. She’s shaking
her head, feeling nauseous, chewy bits and acid pressing up towards
her throat.

47
JUSTIFICATIONS (EXPLANATIONS)

He is drawn to me because I'm constantly developing. He knows I haven't

reached my final state as a person yet. He likes watching me grow. It’s
something that is very important to him, it’s always played a major part in his
life. He’s looking for progress and he always wants to be part of it. It’s his
thirst for knowledge, his curiosity about life, about personal growth and
change. Life is and has always been constant change for him. Change and
his thirst for it have found their way into his thoughts and it has helped him
grow beyond any given status quo. It was his thirst for progress, his craving
for change and innocence that has influenced the more physical aspects of
our relationship, he loves the fact that he can – well how shall I put this – that
he can live out his fantasies with me. It’s something you learn and love to
share when you’re still developing, once you’ve come to appreciate and
understand the uniqueness of your own development.

48
PETTING ZOO

- It’s quite exciting for her, what with all the sheep, the goats, the
goatlings, waiting to be petted, twining around her legs

- She’s tiny, surely, not even the new born goatlings will come up any
higher than up to her hips, they were just born

- Well, yes. Yes, absolutely, she's quite short, they only reach up to her
navel, almost

- those goatlings, they were very shy, which ultimately caused a little bit
of a crisis – and this, in turn, led to the aforementioned fall from the tree

- Really

- Yes, she was waiting in front of the wooden shed, the one where all the
goatlings dwell, the one with the stuffed wool inside, that’s where she
went and sat and ate, waiting for them to come out – but they didn’t

- I’m sure her daddy got impatient at some point

- well, first of all he got himself a book, didn’t he

- he didn’t so much get it, as he had brought it with him anyway, cause
he knew exactly what he was getting himself into on a Sunday at the
Zoo, where time is standing still, where it can take hours to explore one
monkey compound, with her wanting to climb through to the other side
of the fence

- but she doesn’t love the monkeys as much as she loves

- all the other animals in the petting zoo, the dwarf goats, the sheep, the
hens, and let’s not forget the ponies

- right, I think there were some ponies, some ducks, geese, hens,
rabbits, a lama, a peacock, a donkey

- she still remembers the board: THE ONLY PETTING ZOO THAT
STILL ALLOWS YOU TO FEED ITS ANIMALS – and the fine print
below – PLEASE DO NOT USE YOUR OWN FOOD, ONLY USE
FOOD SOLD BY THE CORNER SHOP

- So she can already read the regulations

- no, not yet, but asking daddy to read it out to her is part of their ritual,
although she already knows what's written on the board, they both
know it’s part of their special Sundays, when mommy needs her rest –
when it’s just the two of them up and about

49
- she remembers it well

- she does, she remembers it well, she may not have been able to read,
but she remembers it well

- she’s still going there long after she’s learned how to read AND write

- with her daddy

- always with her daddy.

- He’s starting to get bored, a little irritated almost, cause she’s still
waiting for her tiny goatlings to show up while he is starting to get
peckish on top of being slightly irritated in the light of

- In the light of an entirely wasted Sunday

- Not to mention the heat

- Not to mention the fact that his daughter’s sleepwalking through the
zoo only to seek out those bloody chimpanzees and those fucking tiny
goatlings – the zoo has quite a remarkable selection of animals for
such a tiny zoo by the way – but he’s really starting to get angry at
those bloody goatlings and the fact that they just won’t show he’s so
angry, he

- But why, why is he so angry all of a sudden

- He’s angry because he can sense a certain anxiety

- I can almost smell it

- It’s probably something he can feel inside, something has changed his
mood almost instantly such as, well, maybe he’s forgotten all about her
mother’s birthday, he knows it will cause all kinds of discussions, he’s
grumpy, he’s annoyed he forgot – but is it not worse to

- Someone has sent him a message

- Maybe it was his mom

- No, let’s forget about his mom – someone sent him a message,
because someone wanted him to know

- I know

- To know that his former girlfriend had been in an accident and that she
has been incapacitated, he doesn’t tell his daughter cause

50
- I’m sure his apparent impatience is rooted elsewhere, he’s feeling
something entirely different, he has an itch NOT TO SAY AN
APPETITE he finds it rather unsettling because he realises it is rooted
in his own anxiety, it’s more unsettling, more blatantly unsettling as he
would ever admit to himself even in his most thoughtful moments, and
he can’t explain it right now, he’s just had an itch and then there was
this sudden burst of anger that presents itself as only a pinch of
impatience from the outside, taking it out on the girl is almost natural it
almost presents itself as a logical solution to the problem, so he keeps
repeating to her that she should come here right this minute and forget
about the fucking sheep and goats or whatever so that they can finally
go home

- She agrees, takes him by the hand and on their way home she
suddenly falls down

- No, she’s not falling from the tree on their way home, it happens right
there in the compound, daddy’s had enough and he’s just cleared off,
after having told her oh so many times it’s time to leave and go home
and having her refuse, so he’s just buggered off angry, roaming about
the zoo, she doesn’t notice daddy’s gone, goes back to watching the
goatlings

- They reappear exactly the same moment as he’s turning to leave,

they’ve finally put in an appearance, finally, fortunately, they’ve left their
hut and come out to play, they’re – finally – awake, she’s totally
oblivious to anything else

- Is he just walking about, taking a stroll around the zoo

- Who

- Well, her dad

- He’s taking an angry stroll around the zoo

- And he’s just leaving her there to play, that’s not a very responsible
thing to do

- It’s got nothing to do with responsibility, he knows she likes to spent

ages in that compound

- And besides he told her, he’s very transparent with his rules and how
he goes about enforcing them, he told her straight out: We’ll be leaving
in 15 minutes. If you’re not there, I’ll go home without you.

- She didn’t want to listen, didn’t she, probably covered her ears
defiantly, waiting for the goatlings to return, not to

- I think she did but now she’s watching out for him

51
- And she is realising slowly

- Goodness

- Oh no

- Gracious me, I mean, dear lord, my daddy’s gone

- The goatlings are roaming all over the compound now but her daddy’s
gone, where did he go

- It’s hard to say, it’s hard to tell

- That’s why she’s now climbing a tree within the compound, so she can
get a better view of the zoo and her surroundings, you see

- I do

- So she’s sitting in a tree, almost crying cause she’s all alone and
without a parent – right, you can hear her sobbing, maybe she’s biting
her nails, there’s not an awful lot to do up there, you know

- She’s imagining she is a tiny birdie that fell out of her nest, in an
attempt to fly off looking for her daddy

- So she starts playing, right

- She’s already playing in her head anyway

- But now she’s playing for real, she’s spreading her wings, practicing
the beats, sharpening her beak on the bark of the tree, sinking her
claws into one of its generous branches, the one where her little bird’s
nest used to be, where daddy used to be before he left and took it with
him – I am retracting what I said earlier – she didn’t fall from the nest
like I said, no, he took it with him, daddy bird just spread his wings,
picked up the last one of the worms from the worms store and flew
away – I think that’s what really happened – it’s all in the way he
spread his wings, but then she’s back to hacking her claws into the
giant branch in front of her, she takes another glance at her
surroundings, one of the ducks below is looking up to her, maybe she
would like to join her on her branch, who knows, she’s having another
look round, taking off from her branch, she’s bound to find her daddy
from up there, even if he, well, even if the daddy bird, she probably
won’t be able to match his height fully

- Is she falling already

52
- She’s taking off, but she’s not too sure what she’s supposed to do,
daddy hasn’t taught her yet, she’s falling to the ground – there you go,
falling from the tree, chop chop boom

- Well she’s already been waiting for 15 minutes, hasn’t she

- It was much longer for her, you know, it’s children’s time for her,
daddy’s left her quite a long time ago

- Oh she didn’t even notice, it’s a complete mystery to her, she didn’t
even see him leave. First she’s all nervous, feeling guilty thinking it was
her own fault, huge amounts of guilt bearing on her weighing her down.
Who else is there to blame but her and her own disobedience, she got
what she deserves, daddy’s punishing her – she’s feeling insecure and
vulnerable, a little shaky maybe, playing was distracting for a while but
now there’s only the despair, she’s crying, she’s calling for her daddy,
scanning the crowds and the children around her, passing by, tiptoeing
around her, waiting, pushing

- Why is there no one helping her, this is a petting zoo, isn’t it

- There’s not a lot of people in a petting zoo

- What about the visitors, maybe they could help

- There’s nothing anyone could do, daddy’s gone, he’s up and away, she
doesn’t know her way home, she can’t even read as we’ve established,
not to mention reading the bus schedules, so what else is there, what
is she to

- Right, I see what you mean – but it doesn’t matter now cause she’s just
fallen off a tree and is now lying down there with her tail bone on the
ground, she’ll be in for weeks of pain with that, she’s scraped her
elbow, her back is aching, there’s only strangers around her, faces she
can’t recognise, bending over her, full of concern, she can’t be sure,
they’re close, much too close for her liking in any case, she’s trying to
break free, some woman hugging her, drying off her tears

- And then daddy’s back

- He’s back and he is picking her up

- He was only gone for ten minutes and what is this. He just went for a
short stroll and now he’s angry because she’s already in pain, but no,
don’t cry, it will be alright, there there

- But he can’t let it go entirely, he’s squeezing in a line, it’s I don’t like cry
babies

53
- There’s an understanding, she’s wiping off her tears, resolved not to
cry in front of daddy anymore

- But he’s not exactly in a conciliatory mood, is he. I thought that was the
whole point, he’s not particularly agreeable

- He’s rushing off, long legs, rushing off in front of her

- Is she protesting

- No she isn’t, she’s trying to catch up, limping and telling herself to stop
crying

- Best thing is, he’s ignoring her all the way home. All eight bus stops
long, the whole 17 minutes by foot he’s totally ignoring her.

- Something’s in the air again

- She’s not complaining, not even at home. She’s telling herself

repeatedly that no one likes a cry baby.

- But she’s still crying – she’s an innocent four or five year old for god’s
sake, all they do is cry, it’s just what they do

- Especially when mommy’s there

- Well she’s crying when mommy’s there, but secretly and never in front
of daddy

- That would at least explain

- She’s getting ready for bed and wants to call for her daddy

- But she’s biting her lip hard cause she’s holding herself back so much,
her voice is almost, cause she

- It’s her conscience, isn’t it

- Yes it is, it is her conscience, she’s feeling like she has no voice, no

- But then he suddenly appears

- I think she’s imagining things

- No, no, he’s actually there, just out of the blue

- She’s trying to get up, grateful that he’s finally shown up and wants to
make up with her

- Making up with her seems a little far out there

54
- But it’s true, it’s exactly what she’s hoping for in that moment, she’s
unbelievably relieved he finally came to make up with her

- And then she’s starting to get a little uncomfortable, you know, she’s
tensing up, she’s no longer so excited

- So what next, what’s happening

- He’s just standing there in the doorway, breathing hard, taking a few
short breaths, at least they’re shorter than normal

- He’s watching her with those eyes, his steely eyes, she can’t break
away and realises – this has got nothing to do with making up

- so

- So it’s back to reality then, isn’t it

55
JUSTIFICATIONS (PETTING)

It’s a petting zoo, it’s got fowl, dairy cattle, some more farm animals, there’s a
lot of baa and barking and all that, there are aquatic birds, they are the most
disabled ones, but it’s got those as well, they waddle, they have a walking
disability, flying disability, they’re so pathetic they don’t even deserve your
empathy, composite aquatic beings, neither here nor there. It’s like they’ve
made a conscious decision to be composite beings, that’s how stubborn they
are, cheeky though, those composite ones, they’ll follow you around all day,
forcing their beaks into your face, you pull away and they wait for you to, they
just wait, it’s like a waiting game for them, it’s safe, it’s like waiting is their
ultimate endgame. Come to think of it, this has got only marginal relevance to
daddies, none actually, daddies are not even involved in any of it, so there’s
nothing wrong with, it’s not like it’s something you utter and then throw it in
someone’s face, it’s not about revenge, couldn’t be about revenge even when
you tried, too much love in it to qualify as revenge, it’s far too close to your
heart, it’s almost like you’re punishing yourself with it, and you can’t escape
your own self, you can’t just step aside, you’re far too dependent on your self.
Revenge is just like running away from it, you just don’t have the legs for it,
they don’t come naturally, never, you cannot wait for them, can’t wish for
them.

They’re much too short for running anyway, way too stumpy, that’s why guilt
does even come into it, who would ever question growth, or the regularity of
body parts, even if they stop growing after having grown as much as they
would. It’s just an indisputable fact of nature.

There are other things far more disputable. Mommy, for example, she is
disputable, the way she puts moisturising cream on the dried up corners of my
mouth, it’s certainly disputable, it is, maybe even punishable, that’s what it is,
and it’s not about trying to come to terms with her own embarrassment, just
because they’re throwing it in her face now, enter shame left, cause she was
incapable of taking a stand, cause she was only capable of standing up for
daddy or herself, that’s what she should be accused of, or at least confronted
with in passing, in a conversation some time, one they can both pretend never
happened later, must have been under the influence, cause it is just what it,
well, it is just, what am I supposed to say, can someone please tell me what to
say, or what to do, when not even mommy knows, when not even mommy
opens her mouth to tell, all she opens it for is for telling me to keep mine shut.

Whenever she’s lying awake at night, she just has to move over, she just has
to move her body, you know, pushing it up against him, she stretches her
arms out to embrace, to embrace him in a one-handed tentacle embrace, he’s
keeping all still and quiet, she’s slowly using more and more strength, clinging
to whatever she can get her hands onto.

And if she’s moving over at night and there’s no one there, no male body to
cling to, when there’s no one there to touch, she doesn’t get up to look for
him, no no, never, she’s not getting up, she’s not swinging her legs over to get
out of bed, pushing herself up and all that, no she’s not. She turns over and
starts counting sheep or backwards from 10,000, never getting out of bed

56
when he’s gone missing and she’s feeling sick to the stomach, was it
something she ate, maybe it was the fish or something, she’s not getting up,
despite the fact she’s sick to stomach in the dark, she’s staying in bed just like
the good girl she is, right until all this slurry mushy pulp is coming out of her
ears, right there, while she’s lying there. Maybe she’ll call out for his missing
body once, all helpless from her side of the bed, so he’ll appear, maybe
somewhat sheepishly, or tired, portraying the sleepless and haunted
insomniac more or less convincingly, so much so that she almost wants to
comfort him, take him into her arms and take away his pain, his sufferings,
almost forgetting her own and her pulp strewn all around the bed and his
flimsy explanations about having to step out on the balcony because he
wanted to watch the night sky lost in the folds of her neck and in the strands
of her hair. So they both fall asleep exhausted, she’s almost proud of her
ability to calm him, of the fact that she could put him to sleep and chase away
at least a few of his festering night time thoughts.

This is how you get caught up in the petting zoo, this is how you get
imprisoned in the petting zoo, this is how you get to eat goat’s shit, this is how
you learn to lose your illusions.

The daddies of this world just place you in the compound and sit next to you
so they can fondle you and then they get up with their long legs at some point
and – with their legs all the way up where their head is, that’s why they are so
much faster, that’s why you’re all alone in the petting zoo all of a sudden, and
its ever increasing animal numbers, it’s always increasing in numbers, more
and more animals, until someone picks you up and holds you up between all
those animal limbs and body parts, you’re trapped, so you rub up against
them, against their animal skin, their animal fur, until you become one of
them, until you lose your own body parts, until you forget where is the elbow,
where’s the leg.

The daddies don’t care much for taking you back, out of the petting zoo, they
don’t care much for finding you, they don’t have the patience to put all the
pieces back together, your toes, your nails, your arms, your shins and all.

They just come round occasionally and take out one of the parts, the one
that’s most convenient for them, the one they can make the most use of,
daddy is just making himself happy, he’s just stroking the one part of you that
he likes best.

And you might be waiting for them to take you out of there, maybe more than
just one body part at a time, but you know very well that it’s impossible, why
bother when their favourite body part is just always available.

57
FAIRY TALE ABOUT APPLES

Once upon a time there lived a family made from king, queen and princess in
a far away land that doesn’t exist anymore.

The queen used to love her daughter very much and so did the princess the
queen, but most of all, the king loved both of them very much and altogether
they were one big family. The king loved to wage war and his kingdom grew a
few feet with each passing day. It actually grew so big that the queen one day
got lost in it. Everyone started looking for her, but no one could find her
anywhere. So it came to pass that the king and the princess were the only
family left, and the princess henceforth had to do without a mother. The king
became more and more distraught with every day that passed, so much so
even that his war efforts yielded less and less results. So the princess sought
to restore his happiness and his smile that was such a big part of him. She
asked him how to go about it. But he didn’t know and shook his head. One
after the other people left the kingdom, first the soldiers, then the farmers, the
teachers, the servants, and all of her friends. Wars were lost, fields were
drying up, books remained unwritten, the palace slowly became a pigsty and
the big halls were empty. The day came when there was no more food, the
king was terribly hungry and his daughter, who only had his happiness at
heart, started to look for apples (although she didn’t know what they looked
like or where to find them). She returned empty-handed and said: I couldn’t
find any, daddy. I don’t know what they look like nor do I know how to find
them. He replied: come here, I’ll show you. He pointed to his daughter’s rosy
cheeks and suddenly he felt such hunger that he started eating her. And he
was eating her happily ever after.

58
JUSTIFICATIONS (TURNING POINTS)

Well he’s just – he was – an icon – always has been – someone who
commands respect – he was this shining example of someone who exudes
love and emanates security – such poise such vision – I was blessed with a
lot of freedom of course, I could turn up and leave whenever I felt like it – he
would always trust me to do the right thing – we had a set of ground rules, it’s
important to have at least a few, they can serve as a gateway or something –
clothes an all – he always took time to explain things to me – photosynthesis,
for example, the penal code, savings, virtue – family – I learnt a lot about
family and what it means – warmth, affection, tolerance – like we had in our
own little family – despite everything else. He was more than just your
average family man; he was a family enthusiast. He used to love family
occasions, couldn’t get enough of them. He always looked impeccable at
those, impeccable, he had such style, it was him who first saw me as a
person, I mean, I think it counts for something, right – You should have seen
my mom before she got together with him, she looked like a proper
scarecrow, she was chaos personified, the woman was a complete wasteland
or whatever – what was I going to say – ah right – family occasions, he
always used to dress up for them, like head to toe, dinner jacket, tie, always a
blue one, he often wore a blue tie, brought out his eyes, handkerchief tucked
into his left breast pocket, it was all part of it, it was all part of his act. He’d
never miss a family occasion – never, he was one of those people, you know,
one of those people who just get along with everyone, he didn’t judge – in his
view it was always to each his own, you know, pursuit of personal happiness
and all, everyone makes his or her own luck and rules – he didn’t mind if they
were not his own – I mean as long as they were legal and there was some
mutual respect. I think he was just the opposite of a conservative, you know,
we used to have these neighbours, well, not actual neighbours, more like
squatters, they would play the loudest music way past midnight – I did join
them once in June, one of the longest days of the year, I remember as if it
was yesterday, he was sitting on the balcony watching us, watching me
enjoying myself, hanging out, they had quite a rough taste in music and he
brought over his old CD collection, a few things he’d stopped listening to –
that’s the kind of man he was. Standing by the fence – talking to them, having
numerous discussions, arguing, he brought them one of our old mattresses,
had a few laughs with them, they got along very well. And with our neighbours
to the other side, they built their house over a whole patch of beautiful
meadows, it was one of the last natural meadows in the whole area, he just
went over there with some cake, you know, first day they had moved in – he
brought them cake and said – you’re the reason I don’t have a view anymore.
Shrugged and laughed it off.

It was not long after that that one thing kept following another – well maybe
not following – but it was unexpected

I would have loved to go for – just for one more walk – just to go for one more
walk –

At least he had a chance to – he had planned it all – Tchaikovsky, no wreaths

please, give your money to charity, thank yous to all who were supporting

59
him, read out by the priest – my name was mentioned only after his own
parents and my mom’s

At least it was a little comforting

Also the fact that he left us before becoming bed-ridden

And everyone else just sitting there in church with their long faces and their
funeral masks reflecting the candlelight. I can’t seem to get rid of the image – I
just can’t – I would have loved to scream to shout right there and then – but all
I did – long face tight fist

60
FINDING NR 3

If he’s still there, I’ll find him

I’ve found him, mom. I found daddy. He was hiding in the attic, mommy. He’s
all red, there’s lots of stuff sticking out of his head, but he’s okay, isn’t he,
mommy.

It’s weird how he’s just spread out on the floor like that – his shoulders, mom,
and his head, how his shoulder’s all buried under his head, and he’s just lying
there, I say, mommy he can’t be hiding like this, like this now can he did you
help him with this mommy did you put him on the floor like this I don’t think he
would do something like this

Mommy I just found daddy but his head is all, why is his head all – splattered

Stuff coming out in places

Is this an umbilical cord mommy

She’s not listening

That’s why he suddenly turns

Facing me telling me, just like that, with the cord coming out of his head he
says:

This is all your fault

Mommy, he’s wheezing, mommy why is he wheezing like that.

I did it for you.

But this is all your fault.

He’s pointing to his head, finger on the trigger – he’s moving slowly – coming
closer – tugging at my skirt – fingers grasping at the fabric round my knees –
he’s smelling me breathing deeply – smelling me – he’s smelling me deep
breaths – he’s smelling every inch of my skin – I can feel his nostrils on my
knee – his tongue –

Some of the cord keeps sticking to his hands, now it’s sticking to my skirt

We belong together, what we have is for the two of us alone.

IT’S STICKY AND RED BRIGHT RED AND HEALTHY MAYBE IT BELONGS
TO SOME OTHER ORGAN MAYBE IT’S A PIECE OF THE PLACENTA – MY
CAT WAS QUEENING AND SHE ATE HER PLACENTA IN ONE GO
DURING THE EXHAUSTION OF HER EPIC BIRTH, AS FIVE CUBS IN

61
NEED OF PROTECTION STRUGGLED OUT OF HER – ONLY ONE OF
THEM WAS TOO WEAK TO DO IT SO I HAD TO PULL IT OUT, IT WAS
TOO WEAK TO PUSH ITSELF OUT OF HER MOTHERS WOMB I HAD TO
HELP LONG TALE STICKING OUT ALL THE WAY OF HER MOTHER’S
BUM IT WAS A BIRTH IN REVERSE I PULLED ON IT I THOUGHT THIS
MIGHT BE A RAT COMING OUT OF HER DADDY WAS A RAT GOT HIS
SHARP TEETH HOOKED INTO THE CAT TIGHT INTO HER NECK
MOUNTING HER GIVING HER A LOAD OF HIS SPERM

AND NOW THERE’S RAT PUPS

ME PULLING AND PULLING

SOME CREATURE POPPING OUT OF MOMMY’S BODY DRENCHED IN

ALL KINDS OF ORGANS AND STUFF

OUT OF HER HATCHING STATION

TINY UMBILICAL CORD

ALL GREY NOT A RAT I WAS RELIEVED I DIDN’T WANT A RATCAT

CATRAT

EYES WERE SHUT IT WAS NOT YET USED TO DAYLIGHT FRESH FROM
THE SAVETY OF ITS MOTHER’S WOMB FIRST UNAIDED BREATH

TO BE NOURISHED AND CARED FOR IN SOMEONE ELSE’S BODY, TO

ATTACH TO SOMEONE ELSE’S INNER WALL AND GROW AND THEN
THERE IS A SURGE A WHIRLPOOL AND FORCE YOU ESCAPE THE
BODY DISCHARGED FROM THE HATCHING STATION

SHE ATE HER FIRSTBORN – TWO DAYS AFTER THE PLACENTA SHE
ATE HER RATCHILD – IT PROBABLY WAS SOMETHING TO DO WITH ITS
HEART – NO SHILLY-SHALLY SHE MADE SHORT WORK OF IT SHE
CHEW SHE GROUND SHE SWALLOWED

HER OWN FLESH AND BLOOD

SPIT UP FURBALLS AFTERWARDS

I KEPT ONE OF THEM

I KEPT IT IN A CASE

STILL DO

RATCATFUR

TWO DAYS ALIVE FOREVER DEAD I ASSISTED IN HER BIRTH

62
WELL – MAYBE NOT ASSISTED

IT WAS MORE PULLING THAN ASSISTING

This is all your fault.

And he’s holding out his weapon and he’s turning his whole body over with
inhuman force and there it is it’s actually true: there is a definite umbilical cord
– it’s coming straight out, thick and long, I’m picking it up brain matter dripping
out of him running dripping from his ear he says

This is all your fault.

I bite the cord it tastes of metal rusty – just like liver – he’s wheezing again
again he’s wheezing – I bite into it again – I’m chewing – he’s screaming – I
turn and watch him – he keeps wheezing

This is all your fault.

He’s in a sorry state, there’s a huge hole right where the umbilical cord used
to be – I bite into it once more – convulsions on the floor – he’s raising a finger
– he’s threatening me, with one hand over the hole

This is all your fault.

I’m on my way out of the attic, calling

MOMMY

She’s not listening

I devour – not my mommy – I devour his umbilical cord – warmth blood

mucous – swallowing throwing away the ends inedible ends like sausage
ends – throwing them into an umbrella stand it’s made of glass sausage
dripping down oozing – I’m waiting for it to dry –

They never found him

Not even after I had told them

Where he was

Sure I told them he was hiding in the attic, he was saying this is all your fault,
you know, go up there and see for yourself while I wait downstairs waiting for
the scream but nothing not a sound there’s chairs being moved on the attic
from one end to the other me back upstairs there’s nothing – absolutely
nothing – it’s quite amazing – they say why would you make something like
this up – did you want to find him here

63
He must have been eaten by the giant hole in his belly – it grew and ate him
I’m sure that’s it couldn’t have been otherwise there was nowhere he could go
– not possible – I was there the whole time – the hole must have grown and
grown and – swallowed him

They never found him

Not even when the sausage trail in the umbrella stand was gone

When the end of his umbilical cord had already crumpled up into tiny remains
of indefinable matter

Not even then

64
TORN IN TWO

- all it was was too much love

- way too much

- Daddy must have had his reasons and boom, there goes her uterus,
her whole digestive tract – only the lungs, the lungs remain, pancreas,
kidneys, it’s all coming out – just her bloody breath, it’s her lungs,
they’re powered by the heart

- Unbelievable how self-destructive a body can be

- Spirit made flesh

- She just wanted to give up because of her daddy chop chop boom

- Stop saying ‘chop chop boom’ sounds like you’re an imbecile

- I thought we had agreed on that

- We didn’t

- In any case her whole insides are coming out, they made a decision to
leave her there and then, there’s blood spraying everywhere, this is
more than just a tear of the perineum, it’s all oozing out of her – she’s
about to

- Become unrecognisable

- Turn into some brown-coloured, red, ochre-coloured, some black,

blackish

- You’re right, there’s definitely several shades of black

- Turning into some kind of indefinable pulp

- her

- her

- and then her stubborn heart starts to break free as well, doesn’t it

- no it doesn’t, it’s going regularly like clockwork, on and on, it’s quite
unstoppable

- maybe if someone were to stop it from the outside

- maybe

65
- but it wouldn’t just stop, not even for her

- does she want to, would she want to stop it then

- I can’t say

- So what can you say

- She’s watching herself closely, she’s watching herself from the outside,
watching her heart hammering away, she’s almost detached from it all,
immune

- But she’s certainly considering, I mean what with all the suffering she
has to go through

- How would she do something like that in her state

- She’s got the gun, doesn’t she

- Right, she put it in a drawer of the nightstand next to her

- Listen, let’s not go there, I don’t think it’s relevant

- Yes it is it is it is, she’s trying to get to it, she’s leaning over with her
upper body, it’s surprisingly functional, there’s only green hospital gown
between her upper and her lower parts

- But she can’t get to it

- Will this be her turning point

- I think she’ll go through with it

- Seriously

- I think she will, unleash

- I think it all depends on how strong her heart is

- It’s still beating – I can hear it now, it’s hammering

- Her heart is beating to the left, I’m sure there’s a dagger sticking out,
leaning to the left -

- While the sound of her beating heart

- Is thundering and echoing through the whole hospital transcending into

the whole neighbourhood – like the plague but friendlier

66
- It’s hard to say, only she will know

- I think she’s doing it on purpose

- She’s deliberately sending all that she’s got left around the hospital,
through its thick walls, through the floors all the way to the car park, no
even further all the way to the centre of the earth, right through to the
core, further and further it goes, with a pulsing rhythm, a pulse that’s
weaving its rhythm through the earth, from the surface through the
ground in front of the hospital, one street further through some cars
waiting at the traffic lights, even the traffic lights are affected by it, even
they get drawn into the rhythm

- It’s her own special sort of CPR

- Over the hills downward towards the city, right through to the river,
through the water of the lake into the water of the river on the other
side of the valley up through the pass and on to the mountains and
their icy tops through the clouds in the sky it affects the birds the
loitering foxes it creeps into their bones into the gods in heaven where
she suspects her daddy will be

- She’ll soon be there

- She’s trying

- For all it’s worth

- Or maybe – maybe it’s just the opposite, maybe she’ll survive

- What exactly

- Well the fact that she’s been torn apart maybe

- Or rather the escape of her whole uterus

- She could be happy without the lower part you know, it’s possible, it’s
been known to happen

- Are there any last words

- What kind

- Well, you know, something like

- GIVE ME BACK MY FACE

- Not at all, that’s certainly not it, she’d say something else, something
along the lines of: I DEMAND JUSTICE

67
- Is she the dark avenger now

- No no no, I’ll have to object, I must, I have an inkling she wouldn’t just
let any last words go out with a sigh, she wouldn’t want to have any last
words, I mean what would she want to say, what would she have to
say, I think she’s got an understanding for transience like no other, it
would be far too sticky if she were to hold on to life with some great last
words fired at the ether at this point in time. I don’t think she’d mind just
lying there – like she is just now torn in two inside as well as outside
two halves – trying to find an end to her own story. I think she’s happy
with her opportunity to be a witness to her own death. She’s as happy
as can be, so much so even that there is now in the midst of it all a little
smile appearing on her lips, small drops of sweat on her upper lip, tiny
drops of sweat, the tiniest laughter lines are appearing, you’d need a
microscope to see them and tiny blonde hairs on her skin until she
finally bursts out laughing, she’s laughing out of her two severed
human halves

- She’s probably thinking of her two independently flailing legs

- Her face is a horrified mask. She’s scared now, isn’t she.

- I don’t think you can call that a face

- She’s pulling herself together, telling herself it will soon be over, she’ll
have a new body soon – all will be new, all will be different

- Her eyes deep in her skull, hardly recognisable behind her laughter
lines, she’s panicking

- Until she explodes

- No, I’ve had enough with all this gore

- Right OK, let’s imagine heaven then, it’s opening, there’s a hand
grasping at her, voices from above, a sacred choir, all kinds of iconic
angels lifting her up, she’s floating through the air, looking down on it
all

- NO NEED FOR ANGELS I’m sure

- She’s laughing so hard she can’t breathe, this is normal, happens

every day

- She’s dying with laughter

- That’s right

- Will she say something towards the end, is there anything she’d like to
say – like a concluding statement

68
- What kind of statement

- Something along the lines of: I’LL BE BACK. Or THANK YOU, DADDY.

- No she won’t

- There are no more words left

- For what she would have wanted to say.

- I see.

69