i. duodenum
so i stooped by the pond and opened my mouth as wide as it would go and that’s when the fish slid out. all slimy and cold, it was a big, white fish, with splotches of red and black; it fell with a splash into murky water where it looked like it belonged. i gaped and shuddered as the now-emancipated creature darted away. my unhinged jaw wouldn’t close.
my open palms pressed flat and hard against the cool pavestones that lined the shallows. with my bare knees pressing painfully into the semi-damp earth, i’m sure i looked like i was trying to summon a deity from the ground / single-handedly reverse the axis of the world / split the brick right down the middle. my throat was dilated and coated in stringy mucus. my intestines were swollen, twisted ribbons.
i clutched my stomach and doubled over again and my nose touched the surface of the water as meters of seaweed slithered out of my throat and into the depths of the pond. my stomach went from distended to calm as it all unfurled. then the nausea dissipated.
after the brief violation i stood up so quick that my vision turned wavy, flexing and warbling my pale reflection in the water. i brushed my damp hands on the lap of my dress.
i’d been on a walk through the park when the familiar urge hit. hubris or wilful ignorance had assured me i’d make it back to the safety of my apartment, but the churning and furious flipping of my stomach turned me humble / pathetically urgent / desperate for relief.
with each step, i felt the right and left sides of my body being pulled in opposite directions, creating a cavernous, roiling space along my middle. my half-lucid lumbering led me to an area of the park barricaded by thick, tall trees. devoid of foot-traffic; perfect for dealing with a freak vomiting curse.
i rubbed the blurriness from my eyes. at least purging the fish and seaweed had been quick. not like the other times—most of them at home—where i would spend hours choking up water bottles, whole pomegranates, prescription sunglasses. they weren’t even my prescription.
i was about to wobble my way home when i spotted something in the distance. facing away from me, there he was. alone, languid, a mirage of a man. the angles of his profile glimmered in the low light and there was evidence of a smile showing at the lips.
for a second my eyes unfocused and i could almost see through him—saw something glowing underneath that smooth expanse of skin and it might’ve been his veins or a mass of electric eels, but i was too far gone to care or think and so i was walking over, walking over, hoping to say something witty or charming or at the very least, alive.
was mindful enough to wipe my mouth with the back of my palm before i reached him. “been a while—too long—really, it’s—it’s good to see you.” i attempted confidence. “troublemaker,” i added.
he was not suspicious of my sudden materialisation, or my mud-ruined clothes. “that’s right, school captain!” he looked up at me and with the full force of those eyes i went all wavy again. “good to see you! what’s it been, now, five—six years?”
i nodded, tried to swallow the lump in my throat, failed. “wonderful park,” i said, bringing my hands up to gesture into the damp, open air, as if i were holding the weather up in the sky.
“absolutely. enjoying yourself?”
the way his voice was a flashlight in the eyes / a constellation of satellites / a typeset invitation was so dazzling, i thought yes i might sit down before the ground chooses to meet up with me first. wordlessly i sat down next to him on the park bench in the late afternoon. the seat was warm under me. he was unbothered as he sat there, two pink juice boxes cradled in his lap, one in either hand. the drinks had crumpled in with the natural force of his grip.
i had nothing to say to him because i wanted to wait and live a little longer in his enjoying yourself ? wanted to imagine it in every which way, to make sure i had committed its aural footprint to memory, to learn it in excruciating detail, so i could bring it back to me in any instance, with vivid recall / a sense of perverse being-there / a precision almost worrying so that’s why i said nothing.
eventually i was ready to let go of the ghost of his voice since i had drained it of all ecstasy. “i love vic weather in february. setting beautifully,” i said, about the sun but it was obvious. “so pretty you just wanna drink it,” about the sky which may have been less obvious. perhaps the post-expulsion delirium was frazzling my nerves.
“pink and orange,” he said, and it sounded like an agreement so i sunk further into the wrought iron backrest, going myself pink and orange with satisfaction. “yes. surprising just how many places are something beautiful.”
“every place,” i added. every place you go, you make the whole god damn world beautiful, i thought, but i didn’t say it out loud, because that would have been mortifying.
“oh—that’s… well, that’s very sweet of you. thank you,” he said, pressing a closed hand to his sternum, so i guess i did say it out loud.
then he was facing me and i’m sure i was painted with all the most embarrassing parts of a sunset, but he was smiling so i was smiling and i had my cold hands clasped together in nervous / unreasonable / guilt-ridden desire over my lap.
“you have two juice boxes,” i said, pointing out the obvious, my voice hoarse. an acrid taste lingered in the back of my throat. “who’s the other one for?”
he looked, looked, looked at me, like he was searching for something to say.
“you,” he said, after some consideration. he lifted one of the juice boxes up, pushed the straw to my lips, and told me to drink. the straw had traces of waxy, pink lipstick, but i was thankful to acquiesce. couldn’t help myself from draining the thing entirely: halfway through i’d entertained the vague notion of stopping, but a kind of necessity drove me to continue until the indicative hissing sound made me pull back in surprise and made him laugh in amusement. “good, yeah?”
i made a noise of agreement. my throat was closing up again, assuming a reasonable space down my neck. my pulled-apart halves were creeping back together. “zesty. what is that?”
my tongue lashed out to wet my lips, chasing the flavour, and his dark eyes flickered down at the motion, and suddenly i felt too aware of my own wanting mouth.
“tangerine. good for sore throats.”
i rubbed my sore throat and tried not to think about it. “how’s the sweetheart?”
“Hina?” when he smiled, he was all teeth, canines glinting. “the sweetest.”
“she doesn’t post much online anymore. i miss her weekly recipes.”
he held up the juice box again. “more?”
“but it’s empty,” i protested.
“this one isn’t,” he said. he handed over the other juice box and i was surprised by its heft. “drink until you’re done. until you feel better.” his eyes were heavy and languorous.
i drank greedily, not daring to breathe, until my stomach was a tangerine lagoon. the sun had disappeared but the box was still full when i handed it back to him.
his phone rang. he declined to answer. “sorry. it’s the sweetheart,” he said, sighing. “we made plans for dinner. it’s her birthday.” he was standing up and i was suddenly a tragedy.
“enjoy your meal,” i wanted to say anything else or more than that but i had no room in me for thinking. he grinned and waved goodbye, and when his back was turned to me i slumped forward, amazed at my betraying body.
i jumped when he called out, all dulcet and half-looking back, “don’t be a stranger!”
but that gnawing urge was growing again. i had never felt like more of a stranger.
ii. jejunum
the entire process took about ten minutes: another purge. i knew it was gonna be a bad one by the way my throat pounded and objected. my insides were itchy, ribs closing in like tectonic plates, intertwining roughly as if trying to keep a mass of angry spiders from erupting forth. too incapacitated to rush to the bathroom, i leaned over the side of the bed and hoped for the best.
after dry heaving for too long, it happened all at once, in a pool of mucus streaked with flower petals / ice-cream sprinkles / coppery blood. an assortment of items announced themselves on the floorboards: long, fake eyelashes; a soiled, once cream-coloured apron; a tinkling silver charm bracelet; a cigarette lighter; and a laminated card, attached to a lanyard.
i plucked the card from the puddle to inspect it. there was writing on it that i couldn’t read, so i used my phone to translate. apparently it was an exclusive all-access pass to sumida aquarium. in tokyo.
a new wave of cramping and then a brown leather wallet thudded on top of the pile. i laughed bleakly into the sticky air. the wallet was stuffed with soppy hundred-dollar bills.
well, if this curse was trying to turn me into a brand new woman, i figured the least i could do was humour it. i watered my one plant and booked the first flight to japan.
sumida aquarium was writhing with life / too loud to think in / plastered with information unintelligible to me. it was claustrophobic, squeezing between tour groups and backpackers and children on school excursions. i wasn’t sure what to do, or where to go, so i wandered aimlessly through the exhibits, clutching my bag filled with puked-up spoils. occasionally, the charm bracelet would catch the light at the bottom of my bag, and it would distract me in a blinding silver flash so thoroughly that i lost my sense of direction.
i stopped by a circular glass tank in the middle of the elasmobranch room and felt compelled to put the bracelet on. i fished the piece of jewellery from out of my bag and clasped it around my wrist. the bracelet was made of musical silver pieces that jingled whenever i moved. while the sharks in the tank were unphased by the gaggles of curious humans scrutinising them, they seemed equally as interested in the bracelet as i was. soon they had all gathered close to my side of the enclosure, filling my entire field of view with rows and rows of teeth.
i leaned against one of the cool, concrete walls and let my head fall back, tiredness catching up with me. my vision softened and soon the world was turning hazy and sleep-distorted. then a blurry flash of red and white brought my surroundings back into focus. staring at me through the thick, polished glass, there it was—the miraculous splotchy fish i thought i’d rid myself of at the park back home.
i blinked, hard, but it was still there, surrounded by half a dozen sharks. it stared quizzically at me as if i were the one out of place. i dropped to my knees and marvelled at it while it marvelled right back. i pressed my palms against the tank as if i could thaw the thing out with my body heat.
“huh. you don’t belong here,” i heard a voice say. i jerked back from my staring competition, nearly toppling over. a man was looking at the fish, an accusatory finger pressed to the glass.
it was him. the same him from the park bench, in the flesh, paradisal as ever. i stood up and rubbed my hands together.
“you can see that?”
“isn’t this area for sharks? i mean—hey—didn’t i see you in—?”
“we keep meeting in very beautiful places,” i said, which is nice because you fit right in, i tried not to add, but he blushed anyway, like my thoughts were skywriting floating above my head. the colour that rose to his cheeks was so sublime / unambiguously present / a sample of more intense reactions that i felt incentivised to embarrass myself a million more times by giving him an endless stream of compliments.
“you are slick!” he said good-naturedly. i had to turn and look in the other direction, towards the sawfish, because i knew the expression on my face would be humiliating and give me away at his incisive choice of words. slick was right, too right, and becoming increasingly severe. “you took it seriously when i said not to be a stranger, huh? or are you just chasing a perpetual summer?”
“i didn’t expect—i didn’t know you would—”
“i’m only teasing. someone clearly wants us to meet!” his eyes glittered, narrowing with the force of his wolfish grin. he looked leaner than i remembered.
i was feeling damp around my hairline. i played with the lanyard hanging from my neck. “maybe we should appease that someone.”
“i always defer to serendipity. let’s walk around?” he looked at the glass again, at the fish that had stayed put while the sharks had lost interest. the thing had been moving its gaze frenetically between us as if it could understand what we were saying. “unless you want to tell someone in charge about this little vagrant?”
“let’s go see the jellyfish,” i said in a hurry, hoping it was far away from this relentless apparition. i grasped the arm of his jacket, pulling him closer toward me, and the little vagrant disappeared.
he led the way, pushing through dense thickets of people. we were nearly separated down one of the busy hallways, so he grabbed my hand to keep me close.
“i like your bracelet,” he said, bringing our intertwined hands up to his face. with his free hand, he thumbed one of the silver charms. “didn’t know you were a pisces. where did you get it?”
“it was a present,” i said, lying through my teeth. he hummed. i wiggled out of his grasp. “is this where you’ve been since i last saw you?” i asked, deflecting.
“Hina had a bracelet like that,” he said.
“had?”
“we’re not together anymore.”
“oh. i’m sorry.”
we walked through an arched doorway and entered the jellyfish park.
thousands of clear jellyfish hovered in their circular tanks and throbbed. silent and hypnotic, their bioluminescence was the only source of light in the room. he was deified in neon-blue highlights / tendrils of sparking caresses / enveloping breaths. though i couldn’t discern his expression, i could feel the insistent force of his body heat burning beside me.
“definitely don’t be. it wasn’t too gory or anything. we just wanted different things.”
“is that why you’re here in the middle of july?”
“yes and no. i’ve been seeing a herbalist for my health. he’s meant to be the best in japan. been giving me lots of interesting books to read and bitter teas to drink.”
“bitter teas,” i mused. we sat together on a leather seat that faced a tank so big it dwarfed us. the room melted into quietness. either the crowd had thinned, or the place was expanding. the enclosure was a circular disc of glass built into the wall, five meters in diameter, overflowing with buzzing, thrumming jellyfish. the tank stared at us like the fizzing eye of god. “do you remember that time we got detention?”
“in ancient history,” he said, the whites of his eyes glowing in the dark. “for what—for carving our names into that dingy backrow desk?”
“no, i think we got away with that one,” i said, brushing phantom wood shavings from my lap. “i meant the time in home economics. when we let ourselves into the prac room to make tea. remember? it was so bitter! we took some of mr. harviand’s favourite biscuits to soften the bite.”
“yes! the monte carlos!” he laughed. “it’s all coming back to me. we had to copy six pages from the dictionary.”
“really? i only had to do three.”
“you’re kidding!” he turned to me, incredulous, resting his body weight on an arm behind me. “is that school captain privileges or what?”
“that was the only time i’ve been in trouble,” i said, indignant, crossing my arms. “i was a good girl. they must have thought you were a bad influence.”
“not the only time. you’re in trouble now,” he teased. in the jellyfish light, he articulated a wrist in exaggerated circles. “man, you were let off easy. i still haven’t forgotten the definition of erubescent.”
“adjective: reddening, blushing.”
“that’s right. a bit like you now!”
“oh, don’t,” i said, waving a hand, though i was smiling. “you can’t even tell right now, anyway. it’s too dark.”
“i can tell,” he argued, in good humour. “you’re practically glowing. you put the jellyfish to shame!”
amongst the pulsating bedlam, two jellyfish bumped into each other. they shivered with yellow-white electricity / enviable proximity / viscous entanglement before floating apart. i squeezed my eyes shut and said in a rush, “all things considered with Hina did you maybe want to get something to eat after this like maybe as a date?”
the arm against my back twitched, as if a live current had run through him. “i’m sorry—maybe i’ve misled you—i think you’re very sweet, but—”
“no, it’s okay.” i shuffled forward on the seat, breaking our limited contact. “no, i get it.”
“no, you don’t. it’s not what you’re thinking—i just don’t want what happened to Hina to happen to—”
water was leaking from the rim of the tank. first in droplets, then in sheets of glowing rain. it saturated the concrete floor and soon the growing puddle swallowed our shoes. “it’s really fine,” i said, ankle-deep in my own misery. “i have a flight to catch later, anyway. let’s just enjoy the jellyfish.”
we stayed until we had to be escorted out. the jellyfish tank had drained entirely onto the floor by the end of the night, and the jellyfish disappeared, as if fading out of existence. outside the aquarium, it was startlingly dark with both the sun and moon absent. he pulled me into a tight hug, mumbled something into my hair that i couldn’t decipher, and then he released me.
at the airport, i missed my flight because the charm bracelet set off the metal detectors. it was such a new piece of jewellery i’d forgotten i was wearing it, and after all the beeping and commotion i found that i couldn’t take it off. the silver clasp had melted into a closed loop, and each time i rolled the bracelet down my wrist, it got tighter and tighter until i stopped trying.
airport security wanted to know where i’d gotten the bracelet. apparently they’d been looking for a similar one. a woman questioned me with suspicion, taking notes, as if she knew about my supernatural illness. i made up a story about finding the bracelet at the park near my house. she tried to take it from me but ruined three pairs of bolt-cutters and eventually gave up.
i waited at the airport terminal for the next flight home. then, a minute before boarding, my intestines wound into knots and i had to race to the nearest bathroom.
i barely made it to the porcelain sink before a small disc was expelled from me with a merciless velocity. i heard my plane taking off. the disc swivelled and clanged in the bowl a few times, making percussive sounds in a bout of aggressive showmanship. then it landed flat and covered the drain.
my hands shook as i washed the disc clean. i held it between a thumb and forefinger: it was weighty, bright blue, and looked like a poker chip.
good for one free drink, it said, on both sides. a token. all along the rim were symbols i couldn’t understand. my phone seemed adamant the words were an address to a bar in athens.
if this curse didn’t want me home yet, i figured i might as well have a drink.
iii. ileum
the grecian weather was hot and offensively humid. i was half-melting in the barrage of sunshine, sweat turning parts of my white linen dress clingy / translucent / borderline indecent. i weaved around lounging, reddening tourists as i made my way to the beachside bar. under lilting trees, the shade was fresh and smooth.
i sat down on one of the wooden stools and it wobbled precariously as it rooted deeper into the hot sand. was about to order a drink when i noticed the familiar back of someone’s head.
“no way,” i said. sitting on the barstool beside me: him.
he swivelled around at the sound of my disbelieving, cracking voice. “you!” he exclaimed, eyes twinkling. he was dressed in a three-piece suit, old-fashioned whiskey tumbler in hand. “wow. hello again! again again!”
“hello stranger,” i muttered weakly, wringing my wrists. my charm bracelet jingled with the motion. all i could think about was being rejected in sumida aquarium. “i swear i’m not following you. aren’t you hot in that?”
“want a drink?”
“please,” i said, my throat gravelly. his suit was pristine and crisp. he wasn’t sweating at all. “how many layers is that, anyway?”
he put his glass up to my lips, tipping it towards my mouth. “here,” he murmured, “drink.” mango iced tea pooled around my tongue. “so, then, if you’re not following me, what brings you halfway across the world once more? business, pleasure?”
“yes, i think,” i said, trying my best to tell the truth, “both and a bit of a secret.”
“that’s okay,” he was sweet, always sweet in his humouring of me, “yes, me too, a secret.”
despite my unsettled nerves, i was able to muster up a challenge for him, “you haven’t been very secret,” i said, “on park benches, and in crowded aquariums. perhaps you’ve been the opposite of that.”
“we might just be magnetic!” he said, laughing softly, leaning closer to me, and i could smell his cologne, and my stomach twisted itself into knots and knots and knots, but this time it wasn’t purge-related. “this beach is perfect in august. wanna see something cool?”
he led me to the shoreline and stepped into the water, leather shoes and all, so i joined him with my sandals and dress still on.
the water was so cold it made me feel as if my day had just started / a traffic light had turned green somewhere / an oven timer had just gone off. my skin reacted with violent goosebumps, going sensitive to the touch. he took my wrist and we waded through the shimmering water. his suit went from grey to dark grey and my dress went from white to invisible as the water crept up our bodies.
“incredible,” i breathed. he had led us to an empty seaside cave. it was all reflective blues and greens and the welcoming yellow of warm rocks and the shiny flashes of schools of fish around us.
“it’s something, right?” the cave amplified the reverence in his voice.
the wind stopped abruptly as we entered the mouth of the cave. the walls felt alive, groaning and shuddering as if they were breathing around us. “i think i like you too much,” i admitted. he opened his arms and i folded into him, pressing my forehead into the hard angles of his neck.
“i’m sick, you know,” he said. his trembling intensity / smouldering body / unyielding embrace agitated the water around us. “nobody knows what’s wrong with me. it’s why i’ve been flying all over the world. why Hina’s gone. i think i might be dying. nobody can help me.”
“are you serious?”
“i’m sick. defective. cursed or something, i don’t know! i’m—i know it sounds bizarre, but—my appetite—it’s—not human. i’m so hungry, all the time, it’s all i can think about. i can’t sleep. can’t focus on anything else.”
“stop,” i said, “you’re making fun of me.”
“no! you have to believe me—normal food is barely enough for me anymore—i, fuck, once i was so hungry i swallowed my fuckin’ sunglasses whole, how nuts is that?”
“your sunglasses—oh my god,” i said. “my god, there’s no way. did you… eat a bottle of perfume? a bonsai tree? a ukulele?”
“how do you know this?”
“i’ve been… uh, dealing with some health issues of my own. puking up all kinds of weird stuff. like birthday candles and wine glasses and hairbrushes. been feeling pretty defective for a while, too.”
“you’re kidding. are you kidding?” when i was silent, he shook his head and made a choked noise of disbelief. “what does that even mean? do i need to apologise for swallowing that flower arrangement?”
“no, i didn’t mind that one, actually. but did you have to eat the thorns, too?”
he laughed, before going sombre. “you have to understand,” he said, the tension audible in his vocal cords, “even now—even right now, i’m hungry. i want to eat you,” he confessed. “every time i see you, my body aches. you won’t like what i’m going to do to you.”
“eat me,” i said, my voice a drizzle / a crater / a natural disaster. “drown me, just pull me under, kill me, and eat me.”
he gripped the bottom of my jaw with a big hand, pulling it upwards to expose my throat. “i’ve brought you to this cave to return you,” he whispered into the curve of my ear. i believed him. “i’ll rip off your dress and leave you here. prop you up on one of these rocks, let you lure in the sailors.”
“when you talk like that—!”
“don’t make me resist you,” he breathed, agonising, “don’t think i can resist you.” he was biting the words into the cold flesh of my arms, voice muffled, teeth piercing my skin. i was turning porous with every puncture, like i was drinking him in, or maybe he was drinking me. the walls of the cave were stretching, groaning; the water began to heat and bubble and go green, green, green.
“people will—ask about me,” i gasped, the sting of the scalding water making it hard for me to catch my breath, “about what happened to me.”
steam was rising from his skin and my skin and it was getting darker but not later. the apathetic yellow sun stayed in place while the walls of the cave collapsed around us, and then it was newly night.
“shall i say i lost you?” he held me so tight that it hurt. we were melding together; flesh sloughing, becoming tacky, fusing. his voice was lecherous, he was sighing; his suit was disintegrating, going pulpy, floating off into pieces around us. the fabric of my dress was turning hard and membranous. “that i looked away for a minute and then you were gone? or maybe that i tried and failed to save you from the jaws and rut of some savage animal?”
“yes,” i hissed, as his hot mouth trailed searing kisses down the column of my throat, slashing gills across my neck. he moved along my collarbones and i knew dark bruises were blooming in splotches across my skin. he unclasped my bracelet and swallowed it. “exactly that.”
“so hungry—need to eat the words from your mouth directly.”
“whatever you desire,” i mumbled, voice low and covetous, “i’m afraid i must provide you.”
the water level hit the ceiling and was hotter and bubbling with acidity and we kissed and kissed and couldn’t stop and it was so dark and so hot, so hot in the cave, we were attached, we were touching, and we were together, and we / stooped by the / by the pond / stooped / connected and breathing together and / released / by the pond / we were together by and breathing through summer and / becoming together and / breathing / stooped and / heaving, heavy by the pond / together / devoured and one system / swallowed entirely / made flesh by the pond / through glass and glowing / through heat and suffering / and stooped by the pond / in the summer, we kissed and became strange / together by the pond / together and ever more stranger.