do. Even as a child, you always knew…’ ‘Thanks for coming with me,’ Alice says to Jacob, forcing the words out. ‘I couldn’t have handled it on my own.’ ‘Look at those police horses, wow!’ Jacob says. ‘They came out of nowhere. Maybe they’re from colonial times, emerging through the Fogs of Time.’ He says fogs of time like a Hollywood trailer. Alice pulls up and takes a picture on her Blackberry, as the fringed horses trot by with khaki-coated policemen on their backs. ‘You got a Blackberry?’ Jacob says. ‘When did you get it?’ ‘A few months ago,’ says Alice. ‘Why?’ ‘Just don’t know anything about you anymore,’ he says. He whistles a faceless tune. ‘Alic—’ he says abruptly. ‘Not now, Jacob. Let’s not talk about it now. Please.’ ‘Sorry,’ he says. Alice is quiet. ‘Why do you just do everything I say?’ she blurts out. ‘Here we go again.’ Jacob shakes his head. ‘I was wondering how long it would be. Why don’t you just tell me what to say?’ ‘You could say what you want. Actually, you could start by knowing what you want.’ Alice kicks the car into a faster gear and the Honda jumps forward, though the engine quickly begins to sound laboured. Jacob looks ahead, keeping his eyes on the road that winds left and
right, left and right. ‘Why don’t you say something now!’ Alice says. ‘Whatever I say is going to be the wrong fucking thing. Eat some chocolate. It’ll help with your PMS, I’m sure.’ They drive in silence. ‘Did you ever finish that installation?’ Alice says abruptly. ‘With the bangles?’ ‘Nope,’ Jacob says. ‘Uh huh.’ Alice stops the car so that Jacob can get guava juice. She steps out and leans her head against the car. The loud chirruping of the crickets is punctuated by truck horns and the distant thumping of a large water pump. A Langurmonkey, with its long, white body and soot-black face, clutches its baby on its back and swirls a bendy straw in an empty glass bottle of coca-cola. Its wise, dilated pupils swim in the fog before it scampers away.
[A Langur-monkey, with its
long, white body and sootblack face, clutches its baby on its back and swirls a bendy straw in an empty glass bottle of coca-cola] ‘Are you sick?’ Jacob says, returning with eight one-litre cartons of Lehberry guava juice. As usual, his mood changes quickly. ‘Do you need a pill?’ Alice snorts, doesn’t reply. ‘What are we going to do with all this Inkspill Magazine | Issue 5 | 43