INFANTA.USERS’ GUIDE
by Saviana Stănescu
-fragment-
She-girl or her
re/presentation (it can be a photo, a doll - even an inflatable one) is
watching TV without being able to focus on what happens on the screen. Above
the TV set there is a poster, a bad copy of ’Infanta Marquerita’ by Velasquez.
On TV should be a wide range of edited images – as if someone is zapping
randomly, although she doesn’t move at all, looking like glued on the chair
- from cartoons to sappy and
sentimental or violent movie scenes. She-adult speaks (in a non-melodramatic,
almost cynical manner).
SHE: You would like to
forget, I know... Bad luck. You can't forget this but when you areasleep.
Unless the dreams start coming. And even if, let's say, you succeeded in
burying your memories in the remote North Pole cells of your brain, there are
always small things that take care of reminding you... (in an accusing tone) You
are 10 years and 3 days old. It's a quarter past seven, in the evening. They
left you alone, locked in the house. They went to a memorial. The wife of a
friend of one of your mother’s colleagues has passed away. ‘Free food, free
drink, let’s go mom!’ your father said, slapping you tenderly but strongly on
the cheek. You didn't move a muscle. Your mother caressed you, proud that you
never cry, she did a good job: a no-screaming daughter. Father hates screaming
kids, he calls them ‘ugly brats’ and moves away from any room in which there
happens to be such a monster ... Later you cried though. Admit that you cried!...
You pulled your chair closer to the TV and the poster with the infanta (to the audience:) a cheap photo of
Velasquez’s painting - and you are staring at it. I mean at the silent poster;
you have never paid too much attention to the loud TV. See, you resemble your
father: you are so used to the noise of those trains that – one would say –
pass through your courtyard, that only silence is sort of weird and appealing
to you.
That little silly
blue infanta… yes, you like her more than anything in the room. You are somehow
convinced that there's a resemblance between you two, although she has fair
soft hair and you are dark and wire-haired. She is small and dolly, you are
rugged and bony. She has white transparent skin and seems stuck in that heavy,
blue dress. You are dark skinned and wouldn't wear such a thing, not for all
the world... But you like blue, see, you are not that different though… Because
you can't see her legs, you had imagined that she might not have legs at all.
Maybe from her waist down, her rebellious body would get out of any shape, more
and more, trying to go to the left, to the right, instead of intending to touch
the ground in a nice customary way. That is why they had put her in that dress,
so that she couldn't see what monstrous rebel bones she had... She was being
punished for having screaming thoughts and mischievous bones...
"Don't you
dare move", your father told you. “Watch TV and be quiet. If I come
unexpectedly and see that you move, you're dead, stupid girl".
You have been sitting
for about two or three hours and suddenly have the impression that your bones
too start to move apart... The infanta is swinging. She raises one hand and
waves at you. She turns red. Watch out! Father is coming. He is staggering. He
smells of vodka. "Skinny girl, stop moving!" Watch out! The crystal
glasses your mother is so proud of that she keeps them exhibited on the shelf
are rushing to reach the floor one after the other. Cling. Clang. Bang. He’s
close. Too close. You can see the buttons of his trousers. One is missing. Why
doesn't he wear zip trousers?… “I’m watching TV papa, I’m watching…” The chair
is trembling under you, you are sticking your fingers in it, and you feel that
the nail of your left hand's forefinger has broken. "Hell with your damn
bones, I can’t even touch you!"
father moaned.
He doesn't love
you, let’s face it. He loves mother. You are ugly and skinny, she’s handsome,
soft and fat. Every night you’d hear them play the ‘Belly watch’ game. Belly
watch! Belly watch. She has huge round tits, you have two peanuts. But you are
going to make enough money to get silicon implants in a few years. “Let me
watch TV papa!”… “Don’t scream, ugly brat, be quiet, be good, be quiet!”
You can see
nothing. You can say nothing. You can’t even breathe. What’s that noise? A
deafening noise…You are sure that right now the wall with the infanta is
falling down and is dispersing like the sticks from the Maroco game... although
it seemed solid, substantial, all of a piece. You can't trust even the walls! You
can’t take a glimpse at how infanta's blue dress is covered by dust and debris.
You can't see anything now. You don't move. Father is moving rhythmically...
Thank God, you still have that chair under your ass, a dumb chair you wouldn't
have suspected of being so reliable. (commercial
tone) An object in need is an object
indeed! …
Father falls
down. Something happened. You went together through a... what was that, father,
an earthquake? An object in need is an
object indeed! … Maybe you are no longer you, but you turned into a cover,
into a chair cushion. An object in need
is an object indeed! … Maybe you died and reincarnated in a chair. (She laughs) You're scared. You wouldn't
move, not for anything. Not for anybody... Father fell asleep with his head on
your lap. His saliva is spreading on your blue dress. You can hear him
breathing. Stop that noise! You try to die a little. You make it. You hope it
would be worth it. To be declared heroine, martyr or saint. To have the most
beautiful grave: of blue marble with four marble infantas playing guitar on the
top of it. At least that much... But what if they simply throw you in the
garbage, wrapped in the blue sacks he keeps in the bathroom? Shhhhhh…
It's twelve
o'clock at night or maybe later. You haven’t moved. It's been a few hours since
you "died". Then the train came. A fucking slow train for Pitesti.
Choo-choo-choo… 27 carriages. While the 8th was passing you shivered. At the
10th you moved an arm. At the 13th you stretched with all your bones. At the
15th you pushed your father away. You spitefully hit the earthworm that was
crawling to the bathroom. Ntz, Ntz, you’re not nice! Your ankle hurts, good for
you! At the 18th carriage you stood up. At the 19th you took the first step.
After the 22nd you realized that you were breathing, sweating, salivating,
swallowing your own saliva. At the 24th
you screamed: waaaa (scream) Your
scream has reached, you are sure, the door of carriage number 27, it has
probably embodied in a fat greedy woman and took a seat there. Hushhhhh... A
noise! ... Father fell in the bath. It is not his fault, it’s the alcohol who
‘speaks’ him. They always drink heavily at memorials. For the dead person to
get in on some cheerfulness. With his last drop of energy, he mumbles:
"You moved, ugly brat, you moved…” Then you felt for the first time a
strange warmth going through your veins. You crouched. You pressed your thighs
on one another until you felt that one knee started to throb. Your heart
exploded like a balloon that had been pricked and now is deflating. (She starts laughing) Phphphph – that
damn train is still passing and you laugh, crazy girl, what are you laughing
at?
Oh, yeah, weird
indeed. An object in need is an object
indeed! … The blue infanta on the wall has now two long legs coming out of
the poster and touching the ground of your dirty flat. She’s barefoot. She has
nice small feet. Sooner or later they will be very very dirty. This stupid
detail makes you suddenly happy.
