White Niggers
Chapter 65
Lisa's apartment complex, Vorgartenstraße 204, 2nd district of Vienna
Thursday, October 10th, 2019, 09:15
The note says:
To my beloved Mausi-6.
Mörtel
"Ugh," Lisa says
How did he find out the address? Lisa thinks. Is this Buba's revenge?
She makes a wry face. She looks up to her mother. Lisa's mother looks away.
"What's the matter?" Lisa's mother says in a soft voice.
She is probably afraid of talking to me in her usual way, Lisa thinks. The eyes are the gate of the soul and right now I'm furious, and I want her to see I'm furious and I'm glad she gets the message.
"Nothing, I just need to get rid of this besom," Lisa says.
She walks towards the garbage bin and tries to stuff the bouquet, but it's too big for the garbage bin.
She tries to defy law of conservation of mass and volume by force. In her imagination it's Mörtel and Buba she is crushing, not biomass.
It doesn't yield. Most of the bouquet sticks out of the garbage bin.
I'll show you, Lisa thinks.
She takes a big black plastic bag out of a drawer. It looks big enough to transport a corpse. Then she starts breaking the stems of the flowers and throws them into the bag one by one.
I don't have to destroy this reminder of my humiliation, Lisa thinks. But I want to. It's almost carnal pleasure. Doing this in front of her makes it extra exciting.
That's a pacifist show of force, Lisa thinks. The fact that she sees this will make her think twice before screwing with me again.
She cuts her finger on one of the thorns in the rose stems.
She throws the rest of the bouquet into the black bag and sucks on the little wound.
Then she puts the bag close to the entrance.
Preventative violence is an answer, Lisa thinks. Fuck around, find out. If you reverse the sequence, make them find out, maybe they won't fuck around.
Her mother stares at her with big eyes.
"What's wrong?" Lisa thinks.
She sits back at the table, cuts a piece of paper serviette and puts it on the wound to stop bleeding.
"Are you crazy?" Lisa's mother says. "Why did you do that?"
"If you knew who sent it, you wouldn't be as fond of it. He must have touched it," Lisa says and sticks the bouquet into the bin. "Wait."
She goes to the toilet and washes her hands. She rubs the spaces between the fingers with soap like a surgeon. Then she rubs her hands with a disinfectant.
She comes back to the table.
"You need to tell me who this man is," Lisa's mother says.
"A disgusting old man, with 'pervert' written all over his face," Lisa says.
"How did you get to know him?" Lisa's mother says.
"Buba introduced him to me at the Life Ball," Lisa says.
"You've been to a ball?" Lisa's mother says.
"Well, it's not a real ball, more of a burlesque show," Lisa says.
"Wow!" Lisa's mother says. "Tell me, who is this fellow who sent you the flowers?"
"Mörtel," Lisa says.
"What?" Lisa's mother says.
"That's German for mortar. He used to be in construction business and this Mörtel, mortar is his nickname," Lisa says. "His real name is Richard Fritzl, I think."
Lisa's mother takes the Kronen Zeitung and holds in front of Lisa.
"This Richard Fritzl?" Lisa's mother says.
"Yes," Lisa says.
On the front page there is a picture of Mörtel. The headline says something about a TV show in which he is participating.
"He seems to be a big mucker here," Lisa's mother says.
"That's what Buba said," Lisa says. "Anyway, can we please change the subject?"
"Why?" Lisa's mother says.
"I don't want to talk about this creep," Lisa says.
"You say creep, I say opportunity," Lisa's mother says. "He obviously likes you. He likely has connections… All in all, an excellent chance to boost your career."
"I'm not interested in a career of a hooker," Lisa says. "Thanks, but no thanks. I don't need to sell my body. I can make a living working with my brain."
"Nobody is talking about hookers," Lisa's mother says. "Men sometimes do things anticipating intercourse… without getting it. You can lure him into helping you without ever sleeping with him."
"Do you hear yourself?" Lisa says.
"What?" Lisa's mother says.
"Don't you realize it's dishonest?" Lisa says.
"That's called liberal-democratic market economy," Lisa's mother says. "People have been trading money for sex… or the perceived chance of sex for thousands of years."
"Where have you read this kind of garbage?" Lisa says. "Have you been watching too much television lately?"
"It's my life experience," Lisa's mother says. "Wisdom."
In the eyes of Lisa's mother, Mörtel is much better than Mykola Poroshkovich, Lisa thinks.
"That's no wisdom," Lisa says.
She raises her voice.
"That's your post-Soviet crap," Lisa says. "Some mother you turned out to be."
"Don't talk with me like that!" Lisa's mother says.
"How else should I talk to a mother who is trying – once again! – to sell her only child into sexual slavery?" Lisa says.
"Oh, stop it!" Lisa's mother says. "When did I try to do ?"
"Back in 2012, Mykola Poroshkovich," Lisa says. "Does that ring a bell?"
"Lisa, dear, you are exaggerating," Lisa's mother says. "I just wanted to help you screen the wrong guys. I didn't mean to sell you to him."
"I don't believe you," Lisa says. "I will never let anything like happen again, understand?"
"You must understand that I only wish you the best," Lisa's mother says. "Everybody knows arranged marriages last longer than self-chosen ones."
"Unless the man is an obvious pervert like this Mörtel," Lisa says.
"How do you know he is a pervert?" Lisa's mother says. "Aren't you judging people by their appearances? Isn't that superficial and, well, indecent?"
"If you see someone who looks like a thug, walks like a thug, and talks like a thug, you go to the other side of the street," Lisa says. "Even though you judged him by his appearance."
"This Mörtel does not look like a thug," Lisa's mother says. "Look, he is even in a newspaper."
"Hitler also used to be in a newspaper," Lisa says.
"He is not Hitler," Lisa's mother says. "He is your best chance of becoming successful fast."
"I can become successful on my own, using my brains and grit," Lisa says. "It doesn't have to be fast. Slow and steady wins the race."
"Lisa, come on!" Lisa's mother says. "That's not how the world works. It's whom you… know and not what you know."
"You wanted to say whom you suck off, right?" Lisa says.
"Don't jump on that," Lisa's mother says.
"But you do believe I cannot achieve anything on my own, right?" Lisa says. "That my boobs and butt are my biggest talents, right?"
"Don't–" Lisa's mother says.
"Shut you wedge when I'm talking!" Lisa says. "We haven't seen each other in years and the first thing you upon arrival is harrass me like as usual. With a mother like this I don't need enemies."
She stands up and walks to another room.
"I sometimes ask myself whether you was raped when I was conceived," Lisa says. "Because that's the only reasoanble explanation for your sadism towards me."
Lisa dons her street clothes.
"Or was it a broken condom?" Lisa says. "And another question: Why didn't you abort me? Would have made life so much easier for both of us."
Her mother looks at her in silence.
She is probably calculating how to respond best, Lisa thinks. Running the freaking Boyd loop in her mind.
"You know, I'm of the opinion that a terrible ending is better than terror without end," Lisa says. "Just keep that in mind. We can do an abortion retroactively."
My adrenaline level is sinking, Lisa thinks. I need to say what needs to be said before it wears off completely.
"The alternative is to do to you what I did to those flowers," Lisa says. "Fake heart attacks, screaming, calling police etc. won't help you because I don't care any more."
I'm surprised she hasn't pulled the "honor thy mother" card, Lisa thinks. That's one of her favorite tactics.
"I'll slash you extra painfully," Lisa says. "You will beg for me to finally cut you in pieces and put them in that black bag."
The emotional rollercoaster has reached the valley. The violent phase is over and the kathartic one starts. Lisa knows this cycle all too well. It's the time when you are sleepy and don't think clearly without realizing it. The bodymind needs to recover from the fight and puts complex brain activity on pause.
"Once again you managed to bully me," Lisa says. "I'll go away to get some rest. In the mean time, consider to pack your bags and go home peacefully."
She leaves the flat and smashes the door as loud as she can.