Zazen - By Vanessa Veselka Page 0,51

I decided there was no point calling them in because there was no one there. I had crossed them off my list days before but they were burning all the same.

I called Tamara. She didn’t answer.

Fires burned all the next day. Mid-afternoon Jimmy called. She said she’d had a change of plans. When I got to her apartment she was standing in the archway between the living room and the kitchen surrounded by boxes. There were white squares on her wall where pictures had hung.

“I’m leaving next week.”

Her hair was dyed brown all over. She had cut off her cord necklaces and taken out her piercings. If had seen her in kindergarten, and then seen her now, I probably would have said she never changed. She leaned down and ran a strip of packing tape along a box of kitchen supplies.

“What do you want to do between now and then?”

“I’m actually heading out tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Yeah, as soon as I’m done with these boxes.”

We talked about how things had moved too fast and how it was a hard time for anyone to know what they wanted. My favorite thing about Jimmy is her way of saying something she doesn’t want to say. Like if she thinks something you are doing is wrong, or if she is sad about something she can’t change, she’ll just tell you. Simple and light as a silk parachute falling over everything, you will know. There is no hesitation in her and no violence. None at all. That’s probably why Grace was so disturbing. Grace is all violence.

We talked and packed up kitchen supplies to take to a shelter. The rooms were empty. The plants were gone. On the floor was a Chinese calendar. She picked it up.

“Here,” she handed it to me, “there’s still three good months on it.”

She smiled and shook her head then put her hand lightly on my shoulder. “I’ll send you my address. You’ll always be welcome.”

“Mirror will kill you for leaving before her party.”

“Yeah, I’m sure I’ll get the lecture on a postcard.”

Then she picked up the last box and asked me to hold the door. There wasn’t anything else for me to do but load the truck.

Jimmy decided to spend the last few days with her family. They had a house out near Pretty Little Hopes in an adjacent suburb called Fair Prospect. That’s where she went. Mirror asked me why she left before the party. I told her going to that thing would be like crashing your own wake and you just can’t be in two places at once. I didn’t blame Jimmy either. All this glory is too much glory. She needed to get away. From the smoke, the fires, the bomb threats, the bus crashes and me. I see her beyond the orange lights, twirling in a ball gown. Queen of the Jaguars.

22 Dancehall

Mirror said she’d pick up the dental dams and lube herself. She sounded annoyed. I was in the kitchen of Rise Up Singing listening to a new string of reported fires when she called. The radio was up loud so I couldn’t tell what she was saying at first. She wanted to know if I had everything?

“Everything what?”

“Dams and lube.”

I had vaguely promised to get them days earlier before everything was on fire.

“I forgot. Sorry.”

“Dude, don’t fuck up my party. Ben Hur Playland is going to close in half an hour.”

“Right. If it hasn’t already been gutted by a wall of roaring flame.”

“Whatever—do me a favor at least, go outside and see what’s happening.”

I walked out of the back of the restaurant and around the corner. I leaned against the mural of the smiling black woman in the Pan-African headdress and looked down the hill.

“Okay, I’m there.”

“What do you see?”

“Black smoke covering everything.”

“Everything?”

“Well, mostly the south and southwest parts of town.”

“What about east?”

“Clear.”

“Fucking God loves me better than anyone. Call Ben Hur. Tell them not to close. I’m on my way.”

Nobody knew where the party was going to be held. Just that it was in a warehouse somewhere, probably in the industrial district. It went this way: if you had an invitation it told you to go to a website where you logged on as a guest. You didn’t need to give your name but you had to say who gave you the invite and write a few sentences about your current sexual fantasy. Once you were vetted, you entered a contact number. On the day of the party everyone would get three text messages.