Messenger
Messenger
content warning: sex, drugs, death
I panic shout and slam the door. All three dogs are outside. I see after I see, you know like recognize what I saw after the red door rattles the house to stillness. My heart is beating in my hands and the concrete floor keeps zooming in and out. I feel disoriented and affronted. I open the door and bark at the dogs to get inside. Zoey and Axis come in first, Doro follows after a few more sharp commands. He wags his tail as he trots back into the house, leaving the half dead black snake behind him in the gravel of the farm driveway.
“Hey there Sal, what can I get yata drink?” The hungover beach bar bartender asks. Margaritaville plays on the juke box, the 3 sided bar opens up on a view of the ocean. Waves crash and Sal's little snake tongue flicks to taste the salty air. Sand lives in the carpet of the beach bar, Sal wonders why they don't just put in a hardwood.
“Holy twotone, I was just having the weirdest dream.” Sal's eyes milky with transition. He chortles in his afternoon fat retired snake way. “or maybe I just did to much cocaine last night,” Sal shakes his head to cut off any judgement from the bartender, “eh now, dont worry man, I balanced it out with a few tomato sandwiches.” “Ha!” the bartender barks at Sal, “you've just been having the best summer ever haven't you? Doing cocaine and eating tommy sammies.” Sal cocks his head thoughtfully, laughs under his breath a little, “I guess so man, I guess so. Cocaine and tommy sammies.” They high five their tails because they are snakes and snakes don't have arms, well high one their tails. “I'll take a shot of tequila and a cold corona please. Yes, on the lime for both please.” Sal slithers out to the beach, his cutie snake girlfriends come find him after he has a little time to contemplate life and retirement. That weird dream still at the back of his mind.
I am just staring at the writhing beautiful thing through the window, willing it to writhe away. “please just go, you can do it. You will heal, just make it to the woods.” I am the only one home and this is my problem, I have to do something about this.
I call Arrow, no answer. Still alive. I call Willow, no answer. I cannot put this snake out of its misery, I am not that strong. I call Red, no answer. Writhing, withering. Witnessing. Arrow calls back first, “hey whats up?” I go to explain whats happened, “um, I didn't look before I let the dogs out, I should've looked before I let the dogs out.” Not the most ominous way to start an explanation, but well up there. My voice cracks and starts shaking. “the black snake was outside the door and Doro chomped it,” tears start rolling down my face, my brow scrunching. “the dogs are in and fine, but the snake is still wiggling but not going away. I'm sorry to bother you. I just don't know what to do, I can't kill it.” I am crying, my breath catching in my throat, sphincter trying to push the sobs back down. “Oh no Basil, Im so sorry that this is happening.” Arrow calmly says, and makes my heart break even more. Because tenderness, you know? “maybe you can get it in a black crate and take it to the woods? Sometimes they can heal from stuff like this.”
I know this was a pointless call, I know I can't get that close to the half dead snake. I don't know what I thought calling Arrow or anyone would do. My learned helplessness is screaming at me, “Use your resources! Call the ones who can handle this for you, seek help! Help! Help! I might die if I have to kill this half dead snake.” But I decide on saying, “okay.” and get off the phone.
The body is loud in its desire to protect the mind. I get a plan together. A short plan. But a plan is better than no plan. I text the neighbor, maybe her husband will come put the sweet snake out of its misery. I will do yoga until the neighbor responds. This is the plan. There is no other plan. I stop staring out the window at the saddest scene known to man and move onto my mat.
“Good god Sal, did ya even put ANY sunscreen on today?” The bartender who we are realizing has a bit of a-judgy, but because I care about my regulars kind of way-attitude inquires as Sal saunters back into the bar with his girlfriends now. “Jesus Henry, dont embarrass me in front of my lady company.” They all laugh their leathery retired tan asses off and do a round of shots. Before heading to the back to do a little blow with Henry. “A friend of mine from a past life once told me about this technique for life. Lemme tell ya about it.” Sal continues without a response because this bump is not his first bump of this holy retired day. “It's called -Hi. I love you. Bye.- and by god, if it ain't the smartest technique I ever heard.” “What in the fuck are you talking about man?” Torts Henry. “Well gimme a minute, shit. It has to do with attachment styles, and welcoming people in who you want to love hard, loving them hard and then letting them go hard, when the time to let go comes. And that time comes always, don't ever forget that.” “The Hi I love you bye technique. Sounds reasonable enough.” The girlfriends chime in, “we sure hope we don’t have to get to the bye part tonight, we got lots of tomatoes that want to be sandwiches for dinner!” they laugh as Sal lovingly wraps his tail around them both, “oh, we are definitely still in the I love you phase.” “Alright ya lovesnakes, come on. I gotta get back to the bar.” They all slither out, Sal and the girls back to the beach to soak up the afternoon sun.
“They all laugh their leathery retired tan asses off and do a round of shots.”
I get up from shivasana and slither over to the window, nervous that the black snake will still be writhing in the sun. I stare. He seems still. His head cocked and motionless. Snap. Mental image captured. I get a cup of water, check my phone. Walk back to the window. He is still still. I compare mental pictures. Same position. My shoulders slump, in relief and sorrow. That I don't have to kill the snake and that the snake is actually dead, not half dead. I never was good at the bye part. I can handle this now though. I pull on my rain boots, even though it is hot like myrtle. I get the pitch fork and shimmy the snake onto it, I walk as his tail dangles. I take him to the woods and toss him into the brush. “Blessed be. RIP.” I whisper and bow to his body.
“Wanda! Better get over here, its time for Sal's shedding ritual.” Wanda steps away from the serrated knife and cutting board dripping wet with vine ripe valencia tomato juice. “Oh, you're right as hell Tammy, his eyes gone opal white.” Tammy exclaims in her raspy southern accent. They wrap and entwine themselves around Sal's pulsing body, creating a uniquely sensual caduceus. Smearing and working their bodies around each other. Behind Sal's eyes he just keeps seeing his body being tossed into the woods by a crying girl wearing rain boots. He is sad for the girl, doesn't she know everything happens for a reason? That transitions are hard but worth it, that the bye usually means a hi pretty soon after? His skin is beginning to shed, all that sun and no sunscreen. Wanda flicks her tongue over Tammy's neck, Sal in a trance but present in his movement pressing against his girlfriends. Sal inhales sharply and blinks his eyes tourmaline black and back. He groans a real dad groan, “jesus I love coming out of trance in a pool of yall's squirt.” Wanda and Tammy laugh out loud, maneuvering to untangle their bodies. “Lets go bury your shed and fix up these tomato sandwiches you beautifully fresh snake you!” Tammy boops Sal's nose. They clean up and finish the ritual and continue on into their dreamy beachy retired lives.
“He is sad for the girl, doesn’t she know everything happens for a reason? That transitions are hard but worth it, that the bye usually means a hi pretty soon after?”
I hiss and stick my tongue out as far as it will go, I open my mouth wide to relieve the tension I hold in my jaw. I bring up the snake to my therapist. “I am so angry at that stupid snake, he just got too comfortable. Like, why was he right outside the door?” She nods as I continue, “that same fat and happy snake was in the dirt road up by the field last week, had to shoo him away before the dogs saw him.” Her eyes are taking me in, “I was like, well someone here is about to go through a transition, because you know animals bring messages you know. Thats the message snake brings.” I am getting worked up, I feel tears welling up in the corners of my eyes, my mouth doing that quivering thing that cartoons do to try to keep from crying. “Now I'm sure the message was for me, I just don't know what it is. That stupid fucking snake, getting killed like that.” Tears drip off my chin and run down my neck, but I try to keep that from happening because it annoys me and makes me more angry.
Pam, the therapist asks me, “why do you think this was so upsetting? Do you really think the snake was stupid? Maybe its upsetting to think about meaningless killing.” I'm shaking my head no, not having thought any more deeply about the meaning of the situation, therapists do that, you know? Help you understand your feelings, intense, I know.
Thoughts start flooding my brain, “oh my god, am I the snake? Am I mad at myself for getting into dangerous situations where I get hurt? Why am I blaming the poor snake for being killed? I am not a victim blamer. Oh my goddess, why am I so hard on myself? Why is suffering so hard to look at? Why is my suffering so hard to look at? What transition am I about to go through? What knowledge am I about to grapple with? How do I live my best life? How do I accept the bye?” But all that comes out of my mouth in a shaky tear soaked voice is, “you know how black snakes look rainbow sometimes? I love that about them.”