Le Cadavre Exquis (The Exquisite Corpse)

Le Cadavre Exquis (The Exquisite Corpse)

by Binnie

The clear blue sky. The bright snow, wrapped around the fields of the vineyard.

Lady sat on the little yellow wicker basket, her skirt tucked in around her knees.
I was shivering, too, but Lady was the one who really suffered.

Lady was holding her breath. Maybe she thought that holding onto that last
exhalation as long as she could would keep her insides a little warmer, I don't know. Lady
began to really drag it out. She refused to breathe. I was a little afraid...when she set
her mind to something...

She surrendered finally, and gave up that single smoky breath to the chilled air.

"Damn it Dara," she said, "Damn it."

"You should have a jacket on, Lady. You'll catch a cold--one that you can't afford to have."

"Can't afford? Are you saying that I'd die? I'm not worried..." she said. "I'm not afraid
to die," she mused.

I didn't say anything. Whenever Lady felt moody she'd wax philosophical if you responded
to her threats. Lady suddenly looked away, and I knew she was sorry. She could say some
awful things, but a moment later, she'd always feel guilty and beg forgiveness.

"I'm sorry sweet, I--I'm just too tired to be compassionate,"she pleaded.

I enfolded her in my arms and we stood there for some time. She had very little hair
these days, as did I; and it was a terribly pale blonde, mine was a thin brown. I knew
it was because of the lack of nutrients-- or something or other-- that we were missing.
It was the same reason I could feel the exact form of my Lady beneath the thinning
hair and the threadbare dress she wore. I could feel every contour in her bones.

We had stopped eating completely about two weeks ago. Lady and I were so proud of ourselves,
our self-control was amazing. I knew she enjoyed it especially. She told me once that it made her
feel stronger than time or weakness.

Now, I know in this day and age overbearing parents, concerned, 'civic-minded' students and
teachers would instantly see the symptoms and have us committed or some such thing, but we were so
smart my dear Lady and I. We kept secrets well. We never let our grades in school waver,
We wrangled our way out of gym class (brittle bones, after all), and wore the right sort of
clothes to blur the visual perceptions of our bodies. My Lady and I fooled them all, after all, we were
Honors Students. Those stupid airheaded girls, the ones that puke it all out in the bathrooms--
they have no idea what they are doing...the stomach acid corrodes the esophagus until it has all melted
away like a rusting pipe. Sometimes, I think that's why I kept up this cherade with my sweet Lady;
it was our secret.

Day by day, I saw my sweetheart grow more and more beautiful. We felt closer when we were like this.
When we embraced it was as if I could feel her completely, from the inside out.

But I never became as beautiful as my Lady. Lady's unstoppable drive to do something to completion
kept her going even though I sometimes surrender to my unnatural desire to eat. She was the strong one, because
she had a goal.


"Oh, let me stay out here awhile Dara," she said, "If it happens here it won't be suicide. Winter will do it."

She inhaled a little. "It's such a safe way to do it, and such a sure thing. Here, feel my hands," she said.

I took her frail right in mine and thumbed the flesh and bone. Then, I felt it...I felt the pliability of
her forefinger. It bent a little when I held with two fingers. Of course, the loss of bone calcium.

"I want you to tell everyone after tonight," she said dreamily, "Tell them to buy the loveliest narrowest casket
they can find."

She was grinning like a madman, lips drawn far back around those teeth as white as her sallow skin.

Suddenly, something about her changed--I could see my Lady as she truly was. It was no longer the Lady I cherished, but a ghoul.
She wasn't beautiful at all. The flesh was falling away from her bones, and in its place Death surfaced with
its skeletal brow, rising to fill the her empty skin.

I was posssessed. I wouldn't let her fulfill her suicidal vendetta. She was manacled anew by her madness now,
not desire. But I was liberated from our mutual delusion...this was no longer about obsession, it was about
survival.

"No!" I cried.

She seemed vaguely surprised. "What?"

"You're not going to do it."

"But I'm so sleepy, I just want to sleep here awhile."

She lay upon the ground, her head upon her arms.

I was desperate, I knew that only one thing could stop her. I frantically pushed aside the snow on the bushes.

I saw it, brown and shriveled, insignificant, and hidden among the sharpest briar.

"Lady, open your mouth."

I fed her the singular grape l had found, perhaps the only one unharvested, that had somehow survived half of
winter. She was startled by this foreign object, it was so alien. But there is only one thing that man never forgets.
He may forget how to love, to walk, to speak, but he will never forget how to eat.

"Dara." She was so faint. "Dara, it tastes so bitter. Le Vin Nouveau-- am I right?...Oh, God. I'm so sorry,
Dara, I won't do it" she said. she was weeping.

"Promise you will never," I said.

"Never," she whispered.


The snow on the ground, now disturbed. The same blue sky.