Death Constant Beyond Love

"Leave your slippers," He told her.

The girl was struck dumb standing on the second step to the doorway to his house: hundreds of books were carelessly stacked against the wall, high enough so that it kept the lower part of his windows blocked. They were on three, kawayan chairs now devoid of the use it were intentionally made for. Beneath the longest one, cassette tapes were thrown in such a habitual manner into two plastic baskets generous of space. Posters, fliers and artwork were sprawled all over his walls. Notes, writings, were floating in the air, flapping like butterflies. But the girl moved and now stood in the doorway, blocking the intrusive afternoon wind and they were left without air and alighted on the objects in the room.

"You see," He said grinning, "even shit fly"

The girl carefully removed her slippers and placed one foot after the other on to his cold, bare floor. She moved languidly into the room, not knowing where to place her self. Her skin was firm and crisp from a slight burn from the sun, for his house was a good ten-block hike from the hi-way. Moving away from the light, her hair turned into the same color and the same solar density of crude oil. She had it in a confused knot high above her head. Her eyes, as testified by one who has seen her before, were indeed sad. The man followed the thread of her look and finally found the undone painting.

"It's of a mother," He said.

"Yes," she said with a trace of mockery. "I learned what they were through mine."

The man attempted a chuckle but choked on his nervous tongue. He shook his head in a bow and disappeared into a room and came out carrying a banig in his arms. He unrolled and lay it on the floor before her. He was kneeling on the end opposite of where she stood, looking up at her as if in worship. He asked her to position her self on the native weave in a way that was of least discomfort to her. She nodded in obedience and knelt down to face him. She caught his eyes with hers and without him moving his lips, she heard him singing to her in a voice as distant as a dream:
You are a goddess
Your feet deserve the worship of humankind
Your tears of anguish
and your solitary laughter
rekindle the blood of the earth
that resembles the fiery horizon of the Nile

You're melting my heart
You tear me apart so sweetly
You make me fear my passion-

You
You give hope
to the damned-
to me

She lay her body down on her side, fixing her head on her cupped palm. This action misplaced her clothing and allowed for her neckline to fall low, revealing her supple breasts. The doubtful light that was able to escape through the door, fell on the most conventional curves and folds of the fertile landscapes that were now before the man. He lay next to her, on his side to face her. She placed a hand on his chest, where she imagined his heart to be. He looked at her hand, as if in offense... He took it in his and he let his gaze follow her skin.

"You're just a child," he said.

"Don't you believe it," she said. "Don't you dare fool yourself."

The man felt better. The girl closed her eyes for she didn't know what to do. The man, for his part, didn't know what to do with the girl because he was drowning in her presence. He wasn't used to having them, his muses, turn to lovers. And he wasn't used to his love affairs not having its origin in indignity. Just to have some time to think, he held her in between his legs and undid the knot on her head. He brushed the hair off of her shoulders and let it fall to her back. With his leg still around her thighs, he lay down on his back. Then he realized that she was naked under her clothes for her body gave off the dark fragrance of an animal of the woods, but her heart was frightened and her skin disturbed by a glacial sweat.

"Nobody loves us," he sighed.

The girl tried to say something, but there was only enough air for her to breathe. she laid down on her back. He turned his head towards her and gave her one, last look over before giving the door a kick, turning the room dark in the shadow of the mother. The girl abandoned herself to the mercies of her fate. The man caressed her slowly seeking her with his hand, barely touching her, but where he had hoped to find her, his hand became entangled with hers.

"Wait," the girl had said in a low, surprisingly calm, voice. "Just wait."

After an eternity of minute moments, they started to hear the quiet knocks of the rain on his doorsteps and upon his roof. They both looked up to the ceiling, as if to welcome it in. Its smell; She knew it was coming. The man thought to himself. He allowed for the shudder to past before opening his mouth to speak, "Tell me one thing," he asked then. "What do u know bout me?"

"Do you want the honest-to-God truth?" She asked.

The man entrapped her eyes with his. He pleaded, yes.

"Nothing" The girl ventured, "except that you're worst than the others because you're different."

The man nodded. He remained in silence for a long time with his eyes closed, and when he opened them again he seemed to have returned from his most hidden instincts carrying the burden of their depth with his tears. Then she laid his head on her shoulder with her eyes on the mother. The man held her about the waist, sank his face into woods-animal armpit, and gave in to terror. Twenty one days later, he would lie there in that same position after having killed himself, debased and repudiated because he had allowed her in; weeping with rage at dying without her.