The Book of Names 05: Lucia

In a pauper’s hospital she was, a pauper’s hospital. Magine that. Daughtera sucha big man an they put her in a peasant ward. That wasn’t all of it, neither.

They called her Lucia, which I guess was bout her daddy’s eyes, and some big poet he liked named Dante. But it didn’t help his eyes none.

Lease she got a big welcome from her aunties. A thousan welcomes, they told her. I don’ think she knew what a thousan meant, but she liked the’nthusiasm.

They’d moved south oudda the old country cause her Fatha’d said, no childamine’ll be born in the British Empire, nor the Catholic one neither. That’s how he was. Didn’t give himself over to nobody. Maybe that was part of the problem. I dunno.

Her Mutha was just a Galway girl. She didn’t know where she was goin. She thought she’d come along. He’d liked the way she’d looked slippin into a steamboat, all sneaky like. He’d liked what she did wit her hands. I don’t know. I don’ unnerstand it either. Everyone’s got their own secret unnerstanin.

When the kids came he loved it. He liked how they listened and made their voices like the things around’em. Bells chimin, bird singin. You know. He started thinkin that maybe writin was like havin a kid. You keep it inside you all the time, some parta you. Feedin on you. All your memories. But he wasn’t having no luck wit his writing. Started drinkin something terrible, actin like an animal. They moved to the big city but it dint make him happier none. He said it was full of death’s flowers, an old buildins, an piles of bones and skulls and stuff. He could be quite fancy-talkin sometimes, sayin how his words were fulla planetary music. Said they’d usher in the new age, or the end of the world or somethin. I don’ think he meant it serious but still, he was funny like that at times.

Mutha’d fell in love somethin crazy with Luchee’s brudda, gave him all her attention, wouldn’ let her suckle case he wanted to instead. I don’t know if it affected her much, but I heard that some doctors, they think it makes you lonesome, makes you feel not included an all that. I can unnerstan that.

She ended up bein her Fatha’s favorite ‘nstead, though it took him awhile to figuritout. He was so busy with his work. Started showin her books, new waysa lookin at the world. Rabian Nights an things. He called her a saucebox. They din’t have no money, maybe cause he spen it all on books. Had to sing for their supper, goin restaurant to restaurant gettin free meals for their singin. Her Motha always thought he should give up the writing. Once he got so mad about it, he put all the pages of his book into an oven, his Sista had to pull it out, burnt her hands real bad hadda wear mittens for a month. That’s the kind of Sista she was. She knew he was crazy, she dinnit understand it, why he was writin it. But she figured he musta really cared, if he’d put all that time into it.

All the book’s papers kept spreading out across the floor, usin up all the room in the house, takin all his attention. Wasn’t much time for Lucia. He was steppin into that realm where none of em could follow. She wanted to, you know, but she had to find her own place. Her own world. The rest of the family were happy with the ones you got off newstands. Women’s magazines, Wild West stories, that sorta thing. Buffalo Bill an Annie Oakley shooting bottles and Injuns and things. That’s nothin against her Brotha an Motha, I like cowboys plenty. But she hadda find her own way.

In fact all four of em were going places, lookin for tihngs, searchin for tihngs. Goin on avventures. Sometimes it got tiring, learning new ways to speak to people. Leavin all her friends an dolls behind. She started dressin up like the people she knew, puttin on shows, tellin stories witter gestures. Like a way to hang’on to em or somptin. Everyone liked that, they laughed a lot, thought she was funny. All four of em saw the Tramp at a place called Shawmayleazy. I think it’s in Paris, you know. The one in France? It was a big deal for her. Here was someone who got famous just dressin up funny and makin people laugh. It got her thinkin.

Sooner or later she figured out she liked dancin. Hung out wit a guy named Duncan, started eatin pine nuts, drinkin goat milk. All kindsa crazy stuff. Started wearin sandals and potato sacks. This Duncan guy he thought he was a Greek or somethin. Speakin in Greek, wearin togas, playin a Greek guitar that was missin half its strings. Meanwhile he an his family they din’t have no plumbin or nothin. Everywhere they went, they was poor as dirt. Friena them hadda give the wife a chair just to sit down on when she was wid a child. Then when they all got to America, all the papers wrote how crazy they were, walkin around witout clothin or shoes on. Guess you cant just go around like a Greek in America. Even got tossed in jail, but then they got out again. Anyway, I’m tellin you this so you have an idea a what sorta people she was hangin round. An she loved it. She never felt so free. Felt like she could say anythin jus by movin her body.

Anyway. Her an Ma an Pa was crossin every which way, ziggin an zaggin, town to town and back again fore they finally set down in France awhile. She liked that. Let her get to know people. Let her make friends. Her Motha’n Fatha got to know people too, all sortsa crazy folk. She was gettin olduh. She started readin her Fatha’s writin. She said it was like China-writin, couldn’t understand nunuvit. Sometimes she felt like the writin was a Sista to her, competin wit her for attention. They wen on big trips all bout trackin down stuff he’d read in books. Wen chasin after a giant or sumpin. I dunno. He could be crazy like that sometimes. Nobody’s perfect.

She jus kept right on dancin. Wouldn’t let anybody stop her. She thought she was wakin up. She thought maybe the whole world was wakin up. Pinned pictures on her wallsa all the famous dancers. Went to see shows. She liked the stuff that was different, the stuff that seemed to come from inside the dancer’s soul. She dint have no time for the stuff that was like military marchin. Soldiers on parade.

She thought a body all bent looked awful like writin. She thought bodies looked like those pictograms in the China books, like what her Fatha was up to, except movin. Muscle and bone. She thought sometimes writin was like those ruins and bleached bones in Rome. It was just what was left behind by the living and moving and breathing and so forth.

Everybody said how famous he was gettin, her Fatha. She hated it. She said it ruined her life.

She had some teachers she liked. Her favorite was a woman named Maggie. Maggie said Luchee had somethin savage in her, an she wasn’t gonna let anyone stamp it out. Luchee and some other dancers her age went out to the woods an the beach and made their bodies into all sorts of shapes. Pretty soon she started thinkin of everything as a kind of dance. She started thinkin about what her Fatha was doin as a dance, movin his pencil and fingers in rhythm. She said it was just like what dancing left in its wake. She liked thinkin of him as a dancer, even tho he couldn’t half walk without a stick to help him, and couldn’t see much either. She liked her Fatha, she just hated how famous he’d gotten.

She was even gunna be a teacher herself. But then she gave it all up. I don know why. I dunno if anyone knows. Maybe even she dunno. Maybe it had sumptin to do with her Mutha. She an her Mutha never really got along. I can understand that.

Pretty soon she’s runnin with a wild crowd. They was real rowdy. The boys weren’t very kind. Maybe that’s why. That’s what I heard. They were all thinkin how free they were, but then she wen an got locked up, so how free were they? That’s what I think. She kept fallin in love witem they kept handin her off. Maybe they jus wanted to know her famous Fatha. She dated some real famous writers, too. She dated this guy made mobiles, like the things babies look at when theyre bored. Nunathem wanted to marry her tho. Maybe they gave her diseases. You gotta be careful, runnin wiht a crowd like that.

She started actin out. Actin all crazy. People jus thought she was spoiled or sometihn. She cut all the telephone wires in they house on her Fatha’s birfday, so no one could say Hello or How are you or Gettin along in the years. Like I said she was sick of the attention. Hit her Motha I think. That wa’nt no good. Her Brotha thought maybe she was really crazy, and not just fakin. Or maybe he was sicka her, wanted to get her outta the way. Checked her into a looney bin. And that was pretty much it. Her Fatha kept tryna get her our. Her Brotha din’t like that none. He wasn’t a kind soul. He was just like those boys she was with in Paris. He liked money and the finer things in life. Din’t have no spirit inside him. She was just a nuisance to him. Thought she’d embarrass the family. Her Fatha he din’t care a scrap for that. That was the last thing on his mind. He was a good man. Just busy I reckon.

She painted her room black, made all the furniture black. She stopped wearin underpants. She did everything you wanna do when you’re a kid. Except, she wa’nt a kid no more. She started hittin on her cousins boyfriends, tryna take their trousers off. The trouble was she had no home. She spoke a buncha languages but you could tell she din’t speak none a’tall. Din’t understand nobody. Din’t have no order growin up.

After she stopped dancin it was like sometin insida her’d died. She din’t feel the same way bout life no more. Sometimes she wanted to live, but sometimes it just hurt too much. She started wonderin if dancin wit the trees an waves an otha girls her ages was the best it was gonna be.

Everyone knew she was a problem, they wanted to handle her. They tried to get her married to some skwayh. Maybe she loved him. She jus knew they was tryin to handle her. She hated that. She wanted to move freely you know, expressin herself an all, but they kept lockin her up. Even when she was out, her Fatha’s friens were like her jailers. Thought they were doin him a favor. Put her on some kinda medicine, made her loopy, an then some other doctor threw out her bottle, and she went all wild when she couldn’t get it no more. Couldn’t sleep, shakin all over, walkin all ovah the city. That calmed her down, walkin, but then some people thought it wasn’t proper, a nice lady walkin the streets all alone all day an night. So they took her to some famous doctor named Young. He couldn’t figger what was wrong widder. Nobody could. The more they did, the more it got worse. Couldn’t tell what was her goin crazy from bein locked up all the time, gettin drugged, fightin with nurses, and what was her bein crazy to begin with. She told people she din’t have no soul left. Said it left her body, went some place better. I can understand that.

Her Fatha, he tried to get her set up doin drawins for books an things. She was pretty good. It wasn’t as nice as dancing, wasn’t as alive as dancin neither but it passed the time, she got a lil money from it. But then she started settin things on fire. That wasn’t no good. That jus got her locked up again. Couldn’t cut no breaks. Wan’t too good at makin em for herself, neither. Last thing her Fatha did was get her outta the looney bin where she was locked up, cus there was a war comin an he din’t want her to be a parta it. Then he was dead.

Sent her back to the old country, well. She just kept setting things on fire. Leavin on the gas. But she thought maybe if they’d nevuh left, if she’d grown up there or somethin, tihngs woulda turned out different for her. Maybe she wouldnta been a tramp.

No one ever heard from her again. Her Brotha’s family an his friends, they hid or burned all her letters. They was real worried someone’d find out she was crazy.

Death by drownin, that’s how she an her Fahthah saw it. Like she was a diver or somethin. They spoke their own little language togetha. You know like how when you been wiht someone a long time, words start meanin new things, somethin different? It was like that, but more. They was sendin each otha coded messages. They thought it was like drownin, what she was doin. He tried to teach her to breathe unnerwater. Wrote a whole book tryna teach her. He said she was born in the sea. He said she was like a fish, with gills, she just had to realize. I dunno. Maybe it’s true. Maybe she had gills an she din’t know it. Or maybe she din’t have no gills an he jus thought she did.