Apocalypse of Jude

Across the late violet expanse, accumulating waves of fractals have woven themselves into the sky. Thick bars of moisture sit lavishly over the mountainous amphitheatre. As Mae rounds the bend at the top of her road, she sees Jude’s car waiting for her. He gets out and leans back against his car. In the background, the hourly wailing of the church bells brings to her mind the disgust of their consorting and how she has defiled herself. There is no attempt on her part to disaffect the disdain with which she meets him.

“What are you doing here Jude?”

“To talk would be a good place to start.”

“I can’t now. I’m expecting my mom to call soon from her hotel to tell me she’s arrived. She insists on settling herself first.”

He follows her up the outside stairwell to the green door. Her hands unlock first the metal gate then the wooden door. She enters her kitchen without inviting him in.

“Can I pour you a glass?”

She flippantly holds up the unfinished wine bottle she had shared with Caul in the mountain grove the previous evening. He nods.

“I just wanted to say sorry for what Halloween degenerated into.”

“It’s okay. I’m over it.”

She pours and hands him the red, smouldering glass in an offhand way.

“Stop being so cold with me.”

“Hey, I told you I don’t have time for this. I’ve just got back from work, and my mother is about to barge into my living space.”

“And you’ve got a friend trying to make up with you and you’re showing no concern.”

“I’m sorry if you see it that way. I’m not unconcerned. Just that at the moment I have no space to deal with it. This is going to have to wait until after my mother goes. If I don’t get this off on the right foot, her whole stay here will be a disaster.”

The telephone rings. They are still in the kitchen.

“That’s probably her.”

She dissolves into the adjacent bedroom where they have shared each other. Her voice rises in girlish excitement at the sound of her mother’s voice. From through her bedroom door she can see Jude gulp the wine down and then leave backwards through the open door, disposing of the glass on the sinkboard.

“Anyway darling, I’m at the hotel but I have a bad cold, so I’m going to take a nap until dinner. Can you get to the hotel at about eight for dinner? No doubt I’m going to have to call that father of yours, but I think that can wait until tomorrow. Oh and I’ve brought the horoscope myself. One has to be so careful in reading these days, and I want to read yours. I’ve got so much to tell you, but darling I must get some rest. I’ll see you at eight. Call for me in the lobby. I’m in 616. Got that?”

“Yes, mom.”

“Bye darling. I love you. Only a few more hours now.”

Wasteland Mix: Fragment 20