The Weak Point of Reality

 1

Lil’ Romina sprang up from her slumber in an unknown room, where the wooden walls of the saloon muffled the cacophony of drunks and moaning whores. She woke up with a stinging pain on her head, but it wasn’t your standard headache. She saw that her pillow was lightly bloodied. Her last memory was stealing that horse from some beatdown ranch, trying to escape some awful men…

“that’s it” she thought… remembering something. “That screamin’ rancher didn’t have a gun… he threw rocks at me, and landed one of ‘em on my head!”

She was forcing her thoughts to remember what happened, but the imagery in head was nothing but flashes of blood and shouting, mingled with laughter and violence. She grasped her head tightly at the sides with both hands, and then couldn’t think any longer.

“I gotta get outta here” she thought, wary of relative danger.

The window was open, she briefly stares outside from the second floor of the saloon, and exits the window to crawl beside the wall on a ledge. But undermining her carefulness, she then slips and falls from the 2nd storey.

She lands on a pile of dirt in front of Two people, who were sitting on the other side of an open window.

They turn to her in abject surprise. One is a large, muscular young man of color with a missing eye; the other is a young, blonde Caucasian prostitute with rosy cheeks who self-embraced in astonishment at the sudden shock the impact. Her Eyes were as wide as plates.

Terrified at the prospect of being caught, Romina runs away; but the masculine one hops over the window sill, like a hurdler, and runs after her. The working girls take to the street in reaction to the commotion, but that’s not where Romina dashes off to. She zig-zags her way through several establishments before she’s suddenly grabbed from behind and hushed at the next turn.

She’s thinking of biting the flesh of the bicep pressed against her mouth, but a low and deep voice whispers in a gentle rush: “yer ok, yer ok lil’ lady! I wain’t gon’ hurt ya… please don’t run away… we’s here to help. Please don’t be scared…”

He lets go of her slowly, and gently turns her little body around to make eye contact.

“See, We thought you was… ya came to us half-dead on the back of a stolen buck… picked ya up myself ‘n brough ya in… Sad that the horse didn’t make it though. Ya been out cold fer’ 5 days… we ain’t know what to think at the time…”

“whe…” she says with a soft, but quivering wail. Shaking. “where am I?..”

2

Him and the blonde whore go back up to Romina’s room a little later, and nourish her with a big fat steak which she devours in seconds.

The blonde exclaims.

“Sweet lord…Po’ girl’s as thin as toothpicks! I’surprised she don’t got no brokn’ bones ‘fter that nasty chute”

3 fat steaks later, and Romina looks happy enough to carry herself confidently before her audience. They question her about where she’s from or what she remembers, but to no avail.

She recalls stealing a horse from the rancher that stoned her, but she didn’t know who she was escaping from, or why.

 “You hwat?!” Says the blondie “… yer not sum’wanted… thief or, killer or such, ain’t ya?”

“NO!” Denies Romina. She sighs and grips her head at the temples again; like trying to remember a dream before a wake.

“A'ight now… thinkin’ we’s making her n’comfortable with all the confrontin’ ‘n such” said the man.

He sits down in front of her.

“My name’s Cravatte… this here lady’s Judith, she’s my friend. I was born ‘n raised in the orphanage next doh’.”

“There’s … an orphanage close by?”

Judith replies: “Sum’f the gals don’t protect themselves during a lay. And they don’t wanna say anything to the men sometimes! We get some nasty folks up ‘ere; ‘n they end up makin bastard babies the girls can’t raise. Po’ bishop Maynard’s been havin’ his hands full for years with ‘em unwanted critters next doh’.”

Cravatte resumes.

“The owner offered me some good coin fo’ protectin’ them girls; both from men AND babies! I learned the hard way that both can damage a woman’s body or mind, ya know? The soul too, if she get’n hurt bad ‘nuff. Hell!... it’s men who gave me this”

He pulled up his eyepatch to reveal an empty eye socket. Romina gasped softly, she’d never seen a human head with no eye in it; “the inside’s pink as lips” she told herself.

“This owner’s been good to me.” Says Cravatte. “My maw’ was killed here when I was too damn small, so I grew up with hella bastards as a lil’ whipper… childr’n need a mommy or daddy to grow tough, the good kind of tough… the type with’ 'nuff brains to defend his woman from the thugs and the taxman…”

Judith replies. “Maybe’ven from her own self too sometimes, Cravatte. Angry Men can behave at us the way they do to other angry men. It’s harsh ‘nuff to turn a princess into a whore ‘cuz women ain’t supposed to be treated like men, but they can forget themselves sometimes. In this way, Don’t make no sense fo’ a man to expect a woman be lady-like all the time!”

Romina struggles to think about what they’re saying. She tells them her name and asks:

“are … the two of you… hmm… oh, how do I say this well … read?”

Cravatte and Judy look at each other, not knowing what Romina meant by that.

“Both of you know so much for folk in your line of work,” she says. “… I can’t explain it… my father taught me to read and write, but I could never sorta think about these things like you do.”

Cravatte answers.

“Books don’t teach ya what an ass-kickin’ or two does to yo’ head after a while… experience and life are teach’rs that kill they students fo’ fun!”

Romina shows them gratitude.

“I’m… I’m in your debts. To you, and this place… I’d do anything to repay your kindness, but I don’t wanna work here, I’ll tell you that now, but… I do wanna help! Or at least teach you guys how to read if you want! What do you say?”

Judith has a look of disappointment. Cravatte, However, unfold his arms and looks at Romina like he just had a revelation.

“Look Romina” says Judith. “If we housed every stranger that came our way, we wouldn’t have no business left! We’d be as Po’ as jesus!”

Cravatte palms his face. “Oh lawd…”

Judith continues.

“You gotta find a way to make some money, like to pay for them steaks you done love so much!”

“Now, hold up!” Cravatte interject. “A child don’t have to sell herself to pay fo’ no food.”

Judith turns to Cravatte; He looks at Romina in contemplation.

Even with one eye… She can tell something about the sincere and fragile expression that just took blossom on his deformed face; something that stirred a pleasant memory in her mind.

He nods

“Hmm… what if I pay for her?”

Astonishment sprouts in both ladies

“The keepah’ already pays me with food, shelter ‘n money” he says. “man only needs two outta the three to live well. Why not share the other?”

Judith rolls her eyes, but Romina’s plump little pink lips curl into a light smile, which Cravatte takes for approval.

He picks her up from the bed and carries her downstairs; he sits her on his shoulders like she was a toddler. The escorts and their customers look at them in strange curiosity, but none dared to give Cravatte any grief about it.

3

Cravatte takes Romina to all sorts of entertainment venues and sightseeing cavalcades through the frontier. They spot a resting caravan of travelers from all over, drinking from the azure lake, overseen by a great blue mountain. The travellers brought fireworks from the capital, and they ignite them for their festivities. Romina has never seen something so awe inspiring as the warm lights of a rocket in the night sky. It almost felt like the high point of her entire young life.

Back in town, The folks frown at the unlikely relationship between the two every time they see them. Assuming the worst between the little white lamb and the big black bull.

People like to assume the worst about the situations they don’t understand; a philosophy that inspired the creativity that kept our monkey ancestors safe and sound from any potential trouble throughout the ages. Always assume the worst.

Cravatte talks about his past with Romina, and those of the men he met throughout his life. He shares unacademic wisdoms and useless factoids with the little girl for fun; such as the color and smell of blood after a few days out in the sun.

She teaches Cravatte to read eventually. The more he reads, the more he surprises himself at the ease with which he finds some new words in his head. Overtime, thanks to Romina, the results of reading come to him in the form of a refined vocabulary he never expected to hear out his mouth. Sometimes he can’t even believe it himself.

“Hi hi… good readin’ does that to a person, Cravatte.” She giggles. “The more they read, the better they speak!”

He was happy with these internal changes.

Cravatte wasn’t very multilingual, nor was he ever a fast learner; but he knew from experience that trust is the language of joy; a tongue well-spoken by child and man after each passing day.

For life itself would be a big cosmic pile of eternal nothing, if dishonesty and madness had been the foundation of all thought.

4

3 weeks later, as sunset brought the day to a close, the tranquil village was roused by the shaking earth and the uncontrollable neighing of horses from the barn. During a war, soldiers can tell an approaching foe from far when they hear any kind of animal disturbance. Birds, dogs or horses were the best telltale signs.  

From a distance, It appears to be a sandstorm; but even the strongest of winds are incapable of shaking the ground at any rate.

The citizens gather. Romina and Cravatte were strolling back to the whorehouse, but they close into the crowd to take a gander. Her head begins to stir.

As Romina watched the distant dust cloud of thundering hooves, drawing closer and closer, the intuition resurrects appalling memories within herself. Her breathing turns heavy. Her sharpening inhales have bled the color right out of her face, looking as pale as death itself within seconds.

Intuition is best defined by that little gut feeling that calls out to you from within, making you weary that something somewhere is terribly wrong. Men possess it, but women are better at it. It’s how a lot of them can tell an honest man, from the one who cheats with other women.

Her dread was evident to him. She didn’t need to say a thing for Cravatte to pull her away from there. They scurry off to somewhere safe; for impending doom approacheth.

Suddenly, she slips herself away from Cravatte, and runs away. Her speed is far greater than her own size. She somehow outruns Cravatte, but that doesn’t stop him from running after her; even whilst trying to keep quiet, to avoid any sort of suspicion.

The commotion turns out to be a dozen horsemen, who finally pull up and come to a halt in the middle of town. The citizens gather around them. The 12 men look armed. The one at their head, a robust middle-aged man dressed in black, begins to address them as a whole:

“CITIZENS OF WHATEVER-THE-FUCK-THIS-PLACE-IS… THE GOV’NORS DAUGHTER PASSED BY ‘ERE SOME COUPLE-A FEW WEEKS AGO! WE HERE TO COLLECT HER FO’ HIM! SHE BEEN MISSIN’ FOR HELLA TIME NOW, AND HE OFFERS DAMN GOOD COIN TO WHICHEVER OF YA’S CAN COUGH HER UP!”

The town knows they meant that mysterious young lady that’s been with Cravatte all this time.

They whisper the matter to each other with uncertainty. Some of them have seen Romina a little while ago, but the other half don’t trust the look of these shady newcomers.

Brigands have been known to abduct people for ransom in the west; and a politician’s daughter would beg for a suitable reward. Besides, If they were really here for an official’s missing daughter, said official would’ve sent men from the state; or at least somebody at the federal level.

People exchange these theories with each other for a little while, until the black horseman’s had enough. He pulls out a rifle and SHOOTS at the sky! The citizens duck in panic. He’s losing patience, but that gunshot resurrected nothing but the town sheriff and his small force of deputies; unprepared for a showdown of 12 gunmen.

Some of the town’s folk begin desperately confessing in hopes to avoid any sort of calamity; but the people from the whorehouse, who’ve gotten to like Romina for what she does, kick the asses of those who begin to rat on her. Eventually a brawl ensues; but the only thing is… Romina was gone.

5

Cravatte catches up the child after a 5-minute dash away from town.

In the darkness of dusk, even a vulture’s eye couldn’t spot them, much less those of a desperate band of middle-aged criminals. They collapse into the dirt together behind a dune for a quick second to catch their breath. Then Romina begins to sob.

“I CAN’T RUN AWAY ANYMORE, MR. CRAVATTE! I DON’T WANNA BE PART OF THIS IF THIS IS ALL THAT’S IN STORE FOR ME!”

“Listen to me Romina…” says Cravatte.

“WHAT GOOD IS LIFE IF DEATH CAN END ALL THIS!” she says. “DEAD PEOPLE DON’T SUFFER THIS MUCH, AND I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMO’! I can’t…”

She’s tormented by the recovery of the traumatic memories that were lost to her before the stone hit her head.

As she wails, Cravatte struggles to console her with what little vocabulary he can muster.

“Pain is the price you pay for living, child… don’t ya know that? But there’ mo’ pleasures worth the wait in life, then there are miseries in death… I know how you feel right now… I lost my eye, but it’s better than losing your dreams, let me tell ya…”

He turns to her and softly cups her face into his hand, she sniffs.

“This dumb shit yo’ saying is not what you believe… That’s the pain talking!”

Her face turns red. She abruptly pushes his hand away, and pulls back without running.

“You’re NOT MY FATHER CRAVATTE!”

She knows she’s not the kind to brush off his wisdom like this, but she doesn’t know much about herself at this very moment; which is probably why she can’t bear to look at him right now. Maybe she wants to be left alone.

Cravatte gets on his knees, and brings her chin up to look at him.

He takes off his eyepatch, and looks at her solemnly.

“I wain’t raised by no mommy or daddy... hell, I wish I had me three moms or dads growin’ up… but you still might have a chance at ‘em if you let me into yo' life… the choice is yours, Romina.”

The tension in her face softens.

“Bad luck might've thrown stones at yo’ head all this time...”

He embraces her tightly into his chest.

“… don’t throw one at my heart.”

She hugs him back, and hushes him with a gentle kiss to his missing eye.

They sob together.

Endless pain welcomes an invisible thief that twists and steals the minds of men. But is that enough to compel anyone to damage a child’s chance at life? It wasn’t a band of rapist kidnappers that Romina was escaping from; it was the cold harshness of humanity itself.

The miracle in the humanity of a person however, is that it was built to endure problems. For if anything came easy to us, we’d find ways to entertain this intrinsic humanity of ours with some form of artistic self-destruction; and this, because human beings as a species, are much older than humanity.

Romina and Cravatte resume their journey towards the next town.

And the gunshots behind them begin to sound more and more like the fireworks of the frontier.