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5. THE BATHS: Chesty and the Thin Man

Windshield wipers! Tinunh has turned them on, I guess. We can see. There's not much to see, the overcast, the steady rain. How does she know which way to go? She notices I'm awake, points at islands, murmurs something. Her mother breathes steadily, asleep. She stirs, wraps her right arm under my left arm, settles, sleeps.

Finally I see light, dim light from the top of the cliff, I hope. It is. Some of the balconies show light. And the top. It... looks like windows up there, from a point and all along the north end where the... rock curves around. Tinunh steers steadily toward them, circles the mountain on the north, passes an... outcrop of sandstone that seems to stand separate from the main rock. She approaches the opening into the cavern we came out of. There are cops there, one man on the left, woman on the right. We wave, they wave. We're in! Out of the rain! She turns the boat, backs it in between two railings. I feel it bump the dock. The hum of the engine, whatever, wherever it is, stops. This kid! She drops her hands into her lap, leans back, rests her head, rests her eyes.

Eenunh rouses, brings a beautiful hand up over her beautiful face, opens her golden eyes, murmurs something, and settles against my arm again. Tinunh is up and out the back. I wait a moment, but then shift my shoulder against Eenunh's face, to rouse her. She sits up, arches her back in a stretch. She spins to her left and rises in one motion, gripping my left shoulder in her hand, moving toward the back. I follow. My muscles ache, moving.

On the dock Tinunh has pulled down a cable with a hook. I stop in the truck, look around Eenunh, hands on bins on each side, duplicate her pose, watch as Tinunh slams the hook into the lizard torso! It doesn't stick! Slam! It does! She pulls on the cable. The torso lifts up and swings out!

Eenunh steps out, lifts the lizard legs and leans them against the back of the water-truck. I step forward, take Eenunh's place in the back of the truck. Tinunh swings the lizard to the right, my right, stacks the legs under the torso, two by two, like she did back on the island. Eenunh points to loose bins and I lift the ones she indicates, set them, balancing, on the threshhold. Tinunh lifts them, sets them on the dock beside the legs.

'Lizard organs,' I remember. I step out.

I set the lizard head out on the left, away from the legs and torso.

We take our pack-bags out, I, following their lead. They put their leathers atop them, loosely, laying across the top, between the front and back straps. They begin walking further down the dock, to the right. I want to go the other way, back to the apartment, a shower, bed. There is an opening, beyond the far side of the flea market, a ramp. We go up.

At the top it is humid, steamy. Eenunh points me to the right where a passage ramps up a little more, turns to the left, into a lit, steamier space. She speaks to an attendant there at the landing, lighter blue clothes. I think she says, "Ass Oomam." I think so because he repeats it, "Ass Oomam." He looks at me, irises, grins, and turns up the ramp. I watch as Eenunh and Tinunh go left up a similar passage. Women are going into that passage. Men are coming into mine. Some carry leathers, packbags; some don't. The Blueboy is stopped up the ramp, motioning for me to follow.

I go up. There's a room, on the left, a passage straight on, an up-ramp passage on the right. We go in the room. There are sinks, tub sinks, like for scrubbing. People are bent over them, scrubbing leathers with brushes and soap. A man walks away from one, the hot water still running, steam rising. I go to it and drape my leathers on the edges, left and right. I look back to see if he's coming back to the sink. He's leaving. There are brushes to scrub with. I observe that others use them, drop my pack-bag on the floor, start doing the same.

I have to turn my top inside out. There's blood inside the left sleeve there, some up around the neck. I drop the gloves in the sink. The pants aren't too bad. I'm scrubbing and hot water is running over it, the steam feeling good on my face and neck. I'm feeling good. The steam feels good.

Then... a voice, close behind me.

I finally realize it is more... outspoken... than the din of voices in the room. Those voices go quiet.

I look around. It's big chest guy, Chesty, from the pub! This son of a bitch.

He's complaining, by the look and sound of him, to others! I hear it again; 'Ass Oomam.'

He's bare-chested, his muscles pronounced. He flexes them, as he gestures around. He has a towel wrapped around his waist, down to mid shin.

The others seem disinterested. Most go on about their business, talk quietly among themselves.

One guy at the sink next to mine says something. Chesty seems to berate him. The guy goes about his business at the sink.

He turns sideways to accost them all anew. I think. What the hell do I know? I turn back to my work, complete it, gloves, upper, lower garments, the pack-bag itself. Others are scrubbing their tools. I scrub my tools. I turn. Chesty's still there, trying to engage others in his harangue. As I turn toward him he squares off with me. I'm a little scared what this barrel chested, big-armed asshat might do.

Others are hanging their leathers along the wall with clips that slide back and forth away from the wall on metal rails. I hang my pack-bag by its strap, inside out, to drip dry, push it toward the back of the rail, and hang my leathers there, pullover, pants, gloves, sheath and belt of my corn knife. There's a bench out beyone the drying racks. I see others arrange their tools in shelves in the wall, some sitting beside their tools arrayed on the bench. I do the same with my tools, on the bench, to my left, sit beside them. I lay my corn knife on my right.

Big chest has followed me, waves his arms, gets shrill! Others watch, seem to question each other about what's going on. Some seem to question him. He doesn't like it! Arms wave, those muscled arms interesting to watch. I don't know what to do. I look over my shoulder, up into his eyes, irises flickering, focusing, adjusting. I don't like his ass standing over me, behind me. I stand up straight, turn, look down into them. I like that better. I'm afraid. I feel my knees quiver. I don't like being afraid. But I hold his gaze. I stand my ground, turned, left foot forward, arms ready to make a fist and go. The corn knife no longer seems practical. I know this bastard is stronger than me. I think about poking him in the eyes, busting him in the nuts, assuming he has nuts.

As is typical of men, I think of Eenunh's body. Her clinging underwear... looks like... she's female just like human females. I assume the males are too. If there's a fight I'll fight dirty from the start. I'm out-manned with that musculature. I think of how strong my girls are.

I look him in the eye. His irises flicker. He grins, smirks, and continues in a lower volume. He looks me up and down, glances around, comments to them. People are watching. Several people have stopped, stand nearer to him, irises flickering, heads turning back and forth between Chesty and me. One guy keeps touching Chesty's right arm, shoulder, seeming to try to dissuade him. Chesty throws his arm, his shoulder, slaps the guy's arm away. After three tries the guy walks away. Chesty turns to face me. I think about my corn-knife, wonder if maybe I should get it in my hand. No. You can't cut this motherf... I'm talking to myself in my head.

Suddenly I'm aware of a man coming through the crowd, coming in out of the passage. He has a towel wrapped around his slim waist, bare green chest. He steps up, grinning broadly at me, saying something, and pushes between Chesty and me, facing me. I'm wishing I'd picked up my corn knife when I thought of it! Big chest Chesty protests, over this guy's shoulder, but... this guy stops grinning, turns, and Chesty allows himself to be pushed back! I'm sure the guy pushed him. I saw his elbow come up, left arm put left hand on the center of Chesty's chest, push! Chesty's kind of pushed off balance, I think, takes a step back.

He is not happy about it! His face snarls. I think of Damned Patrick!

The man raises his index finger, left hand, points with his right toward the opening on past the tub and rack room. There's light there, a passage, steam. Others are going there. The Blueboy's turning off scrub sinks. The sound in the room goes down. Chesty waves his arms, protests vocally, loudly. I don't know who says it first but I hear, "Ass Oomam" again, and a second time. The man does the two gestures again, this time two fingers, left hand, and pointing right. I step a little to my left to see Chesty's face. It has changed, from aggression to... begrudging compliance. I can tell. He looks at me, eyes, turns and goes, not to the right, but to the left, out into the passages, up that other ramp I figure, probably where he came from. Someone probably told him I was here.

The man turns to face me. He grins mightily. He touches his chest, says some words, repeating one, sounding like, "Timmy Anne! Timmy Anne!" I distinguish a nuance of enunciation. He's saying,Thimiannh! Thimiannh!" I touch my chest, say my name. A slight turn of his head seems to ask me to repeat it. I do.

He has a dark green bandage across his forehead. He points to it. I don't understand; then I do!

It's the guy! The guy Patrick hit with a shovel! I grin. I'm glad to see him! I take his right hand in mine, squeeze and shake it, holding his wrist with my left hand, like politicians do. He doesn't seem to get the idea, but then squeezes my hand like I'm squeezing his. He squeezes firmly. He talks, and grins and talks, points at his bandage. I don't understand anything but that he is on my side. That's good enough. I point at the bandage, look up at it. He touches it, talks and talks.

He puts out his left arm, points toward the opening I think he came out of where steam seems to flow from, where he tried to send Chesty. He tosses his head that way. I gesture at my tools, my leathers. He gestures to leave them, speaks to a Bueboy, pointing at my gear. I guess it's secure. I go through the passage. He follows, still talking.

Inside, a room, there are showers running constantly. Naked men walk away from them, leave them running. I see uncircumcised penises, testicles. Note to self if I have to go with Chesty.

The shower feels like warm water, not hot water, but warm enough.Timmy Anne... Thimiannh... steps behind a bench, removes the towel around his waist, hangs it on a hook. I see his genitalia, looking like uncircumcised humans. The vulnerability of Chesty's scrotum again imprints for future reference.

He solicits a towel from an attendant there in the room, who brings it, hangs it, and one for me. He points to long benches in the middle of the room, out from the wall. An attendant is wiping one down. I start to undress. I lay my stuff out of my pockets on it, take down my towel and fold it over them. I slip out of my boots. They need cleaning. I think that's dragon blood on the left one, darker than the right. I pull out my belt. I take them to the shower, rinse them, but I need a brush. Thimiannh is in the shower next to mine, calls out. The Blueboy comes, takes my boots, my belt. I take my pants and underwear off, lay them on the bench. I step into the water with my bloody shirt on. Oh! The pleasures of water! I put my head under the water. My friend, Timmy Anne is talking. Thimiannh.

I start to think of him as 'Thin Man'. He is slender, well-muscled, lean, like Eenunh, and his name sounds like 'Thin Man', once I hear the 'h' in it. He talks and talks. I just nod and grin. I pull off my shirt, feel a tug. The attendant is there, the Blueboy, pulling the shirt from my hand. Thin man tugs at the shirt too. I give it to the attendant. He gathers my pants, searches the pockets, underwear, socks. Blue Guy takes them, out into the passages. I trust the process, whatever it is. I step back into the shower. Thin Man stands in his. I give a moan of pleasure. I put my hands up on the wall, let the water hit me in the face. He laughs. I look over my right bicep at him. He's grinning, rubbing soap at his armpit. The hot water is a glorious feeling. It's not hot-hot; just warm but... glorious! I'm sure I can detect the dragon blood washing away. It is heavy, in my hair, on my arm. It is smelly. There are jars on little shelves carved into the stone, like at Eenunh's bathroom. I open one. It looks like shampoo. I pour a dab in my cupped palm, set it back in the shelf, and put the lid back on, loosely. I wash my hair, thoroughly, my beard. I start to feel human again; until I look around at naked green bodies. Then, I feel like an alien. I rinse, repeat.

There is stick soap, like at Eenunh's, and wash cloths on high shelves. I scrub, more than I've scrubbed in a long time. The stinky dragon blood colors the water that drains off my forearm, from my neck down my belly. Soon I only smell the soap, and not the blood. I step out, dry off. People look at me. I don't look back very long. My clothes are gone. I look around. Thin Man is wrapping his towel around his waist. I do too. He gestures. I follow, carrying my pocket stuff, in my two hands. We go back the way we came, through the tub and rack room. My tools and leathers, pack-bag, still hanging. He turns up the middle ramp. I look back at my leathers, my pack-bag, want that corn-knife in my hand. Chesty's here somewhere. I follow Thimiannh.

We go left off a landing, up a passage, ascending. There's a room. Lots of men are sitting around in towels, talking, small tables, leaner chairs, drinking, gray mugs, lots of brown bottles, some green bottles, some blue bottles. The talk ceases for a moment, resumes. Some come over to where Thin Man has sat down, gesturing for me to sit too, leathery chairs, tub chairs that fit the natural splay of my arms, a small table. A Blueboy pushes past the men, sets two gray stone mugs on the table, shows two bottles dangling from his left hand, between his fingers, one green, one blue. Thin Man must have indicated blue for the attendant pours from that bottle, displays the bottles to me. I point at the blue too. He pours and steps through the gathered crowd to go away. I look up at the faces. No hostility. Just curious, I think. Thin Man talks. I'm comfortable. I relax. I feel a natural smile on my face. It feels good to relax.

One man says something. Thin Man points to his bandage, talks, gestures. They all murmur, brief, low. Someone else says something. I think I detect an interrogative tone; asking a question. Thin Man talks, like he's answering the question.

An attendant comes in, dark Greenboy, pushing a cart, calls out. A man turns and goes and collects clothes, turns back to a bench along the wall, drops his towel, dresses there. Dressed, he returns to his table. The attendant keeps calling out. Others collect their clothes, dress. The crowd shrinks, leaving. Soon I see Chesty at the far end of the room. He has collected his clothes, is finishing dressing, glancing my way; but not staring. He leaves, eyeing me as he passes. Thin Man watches him go, waves his hand dismissively. We drink our wine. Thin Man talks.

After some time a Greenboy comes again, has our clothes. My boots, my belt are clean, they look waxed, shined! Dry! My clothes are clean and dry! They smell good! No dragon blood! No stink of me wearing them for weeks. Another Blueboy comes up the ramp with my pack-bag. It's heavy. The leathers are in it. I see the corn knife. I don't search to see if the tools are, feeling that might be offensive. I'm... sure of... these people. Thin Man and the attendant converse. I hear Thin Man say, "Ass Oomam." Thin Man touches his chest, touches my shoulder. The attendant smiles and goes out.

We dress and Thin Man leads the way, talking over his shoulder, back down and past the shower room, the tub room, out the way I came in, into the main passage. Tinunh is there over at the women's entrance. She comes to us, smiling, irises. I love her face! They converse. Her hair is dry and fluffy again. I say, "You look like Tinunh again!", touch her left temple with my fingertips. Her beautiful right hand grips the heel of my hand. She grins. Thin Man asks a question. They reach their right hands toward each other, barely seem to touch and drop them again. Tinunh doesn't answer the question, turns her upper body to gesture with her left hand raised by her shoulder, pointing to the passage across the hall. Eenunh comes out of the passage. She is dry, clean and lovely again, her hair fluffed, symmetrical again. She grins. I love her eyes. They converse, Thin Man talking and talking, Eenunh listening politely, commenting, grinning, laughing. Finally we all begin to go down the passage to the dock.

We come out and there aren't many people there. Not everyone has a lizard torso hanging. The ones that are hanging are small. Mine, ours, would make three of some of these short, skinny ones! Some people ahead are pointing at ours. I wonder what they think of the lizard head. They move on. Thin Man is enthusiastic about ours. His voice becomes shrill. He talks rapidly. I notice no one else has a lizard head. Attendants in green clothes, Greenboys I call them, the lighter green, some with clipboards, out on the dock, others up in the trucks, are moving along, making notes I think. The Greenboys up-ramp wore darker green. Dark Brownboys are unloading bins way down at the other end. I wondered if we'd have to unload and do something with the stuff we collected. Apparently we don't. We all turn and start walking.

Thin Man comes with us, talks all the way back to Eenunh's. We come in, set our pack-bags on the bed-hollow room floor, go to the living room, sit. Tinunh and Thin Man converse. Eenunh listens. Talks occasionally. Tinunh gets up, goes to the kitchen, moves around in there. Eenunh says something and Thin Man gets up, gestures to me. He leads down the passage to the back door, goes out on the balcony. The rain has stopped. In the dark we see the million stars. A giant crescent moon grins horizontally on the horizon, soon to set. Eenunh brings us cold drinks, the same wine, I think we had at the steam room, different I'm sure from the wine we had in the cafeteria... the... pub... in the green bottle. It was more tart; the blue more sweet.

We sit quietly now, Thin Man speaking occasionally, pointing out across the water, up at the sky. The rains have stopped. It is... peaceful. We are... at home. Tinunh comes to the door, says something. Thin Man gets up. I get up. We go in. Eenunh is coiled on her chair, not asleep, eyes come open, gestures toward the kitchen, eyes close again. We go into the kitchen. Tinunh serves us. It's something new, a single dish, like rice and vegetables, little bits of meat, I think. It's delicious! There's water to drink. We have our wine too. We eat in silence. Tinunh sits and eats. She smiles, flickering Irises, looking from Thin Man to me. He says something. She bows her head, right cheek tucked toward her right shoulder, closes her eyes, grins. He says something else. She offers her right hand toward him, dangling limply down. He kisses it. They laugh. I laugh.

We finish and get up, go into the living room. Eenunh sleeps. He goes up the ramp. I follow to the front door. He talks. I smile. He goes out. I step out. He reaches and raises my right arm, puts his hand in mine and holds my wrist like I did his. He turns and I watch as he goes up the ramp to the next level.

People are moving from the passages up and down the corridor, further up the ramps. I smile, grin. They smile, grin. I close the door, turn toward the bed hollows. My dirty clothes are there, folded, clean. Even my laundry bag is clean! Even my sneakers on the floor look like they have been cleaned. The straw in the bed hollow smells fresh, is mounded up more than when I left it. Room service? I'm starting to like this place!

I take my guitar out of the case, sit on the edge of the bed hollow, strum a few chords. It's been a while since it occurred to me to play. Tinunh comes up the ramp, stands silently, leaning on the wall there at the corner of the ramp, listens. She gestures for me to come, waits until I rise, leads me down the ramp. I start to put the guitar in the case, but she stops, comes back halfway, to the center of the room, motions for me to bring it. I do.

In the living room she points to a lily-pad chair, the first one on the left, toward the back of the room, sits in one opposite it, toward the outer wall. Eenunh sleeps in the one nearer the kitchen, toward the inner wall. I begin to strum quietly through a song without singing it, just the chords. Tinunh's face is intent, listening. She turns her head like an inquisitive puppy. I grin at her. She grins back, then her face becomes intent again, studious, flickering golden irises, mouth firmly set.

Eenunh says something. She hasn't moved. Tinunh answers something. Tinunh gestures, waving her hand toward the guitar, eyes on mine. I strum through another one. At one point I start to sing the words,

"I sold my soul, to a love-ly devil!
She said, 'Are you out of control, or are you on the level?'
I had a feeling, something was wrong.
A little voice inside my head said,
'Hey! Shouldn't you be gone?'

Tinunh's eyes are wide, eyebrows up, golden irises flickering. Eenunh rolls over to face our direction, head raised off the chair. I go on;

'I sold my soul, to a love-ly devil.
She let me in out of the cold. She let me play the rebel!
I had a feeling, something was wrong.
A little voice inside my head said,
'Hey! Shouldn't you be gone?'

Tinunh flops back in her chair, grinning. Eenunh sits up.

"I sold my soul, to a love-ly devil!
She said, 'Are you out of control?" I said, 'No! I'm on the level!
I had a feeling... I had a feeling... I had a feeling.
Shouldn't you be gone!"

I stop. They laugh! Tinunh sits up, gets up, talks excitedly. Eenunh is only a little more reserved, acknowledging Tinunh's enthusiasm. Tinunh goes and sits in the chair with her mother. They like it; I think. They talk.

I play another song, and another, and another. Suddenly I'm very tired. I stand, tuck my pick in the strings, gesture, guitar in hand toward the ramp. They both nod in the affirmative. I turn and go up. I put the guitar in the case.

I go to the bathroom, brush my teeth. I come back out and they are in the room. Tinunh talks excitedly to me. Her mother tells her to go brush her teeth. I know because that's what she does. She talks with the toothbrush in her mouth. She comes out talking. Her mother goes in, closes the door. She comes out and Tinunh is still talking to me, laughing, gesturing. She's so charming.

Eenunh picks Tinunh up, balances her on her hip, grinning. They converse. Tinunh hugs Eenunh. Eenunh spins! She spins again! She sets Tinunh in their bed hollow, still talking. She smiles at me. I sit on the edge of my hollow, pull off my boots, socks. I take off my shirt. Eenunh talks, quietly, just a few words. I pull off my pants. She sits, pulls her dress over her head, has her top and bottom undergarments on. She looks at me. I look away. Out of the corner of my eye I see her spin into the hollow, hear the straw rustle beneath her bottom blanket. I slip into my sleeping bag. Tinunh talks. Eenunh makes little sounds. Soon they are silent.

I sleep; and dream...
of a dragon!
I slay... the dragon.