That Tongue Thing

By Joshua Vigil

Out in that other hemisphere, and for my sixtieth birthday, I got my ears pinned back. The doctor with the name I couldn’t pronounce conducted other surgeries. Threads below the skin across my face pulled tight. Chin shaved into a little rounded nub. Lips pumped up with filler. I looked like every other tourist when I returned to the cheap hotel for rest and recovery.
From the balcony I watched the passersby. Sun-kissed skin damp with sweat. I drank tart capis and ate street foods sellers flung up. Boyish men wandered the streets at night. With a quick whistle they came up, pocketed the crumpled change I offered.
I liked the forty-seventh boy I invited the best. Rigoberto. He enjoyed examining my feet in the light, shredding nails down with a file, clipping at the largest chunks. Afterwards he’d scrub my feet with sugar then douse them in coconut oil, and he’d lick my toes as if they were lollipops.
For extra cash, he read Pessoa to me. A translation. I flicked pennies at him for every mispronunciation. And he was with me when I removed the first of the bandages. I showed him an old picture so he could see what I used to look like. His face glowed, an appraising nod —yes, he said, you no longer look like you have fetal alcohol syndrome.
He was with me when the evil president of my country died too. On the wake I joined over Zoom, I messaged in the rose emoji over and over again until I got kicked out. The final frame: his coffin floating over a sea of suited men. I cried little tears that Rigoberto lapped up with his fat, wide tongue.
I was a washed-up actress, this is what people said of me. Once my look was peculiar, compelling on camera, but now no one had any interest. I was a reminder of a darker past that no one cared to confront.
Rigoberto, I said once he was done with his tongue, I think we should make a movie. I told him he had inspired me, I’d never felt so inspired before, my skin buzzed, I could not sleep.
He told me maybe I had sepsis, and that I should go to the hospital. The doctors here aren’t so clean, you know?
I said sepsis wouldn’t be so terrible, but did he want to be a star? He could help write it!
Rigoberto said he’d think about it, though I saw a flicker of excitement in his face, and when he was all gone, I considered my new look in the mirror. While I was swollen and purple still, I saw what he saw: someone with the determination to jumpstart a life.
I waited for Rigoberto to return. Days passed with no word from him before I grew
worried. I whistled for other boys to come up, and between the wetted sheets I asked if they knew about Rigoberto.
Yes, one of the boys said, he’s going to be famous international actor. That Rigoberto?
I nodded my head with enthusiasm. He’s going to become a star!
Unfortunately, the boy said, he has been shot dead. Do you know what a pimp is?
I know what a pimp is.
Yes, his pimp killed him. Here, in this hemisphere, no one gets out.
I didn’t know what to say, my heart fell, I rolled away. The boy rubbed my back before collecting me in his arms. He said, You are so beautiful baby I have never seen someone as beautiful as you I think you are extraordinary I will read Lispector to you The translations I have a feeling you’ve always been so beautiful There are no other women like you not even Marilyn Monroe Do you like Jennifer Lawrence I don’t think she’s overrated anymore I think Hollywood has forgiven her Yes I know all about Hollywood Will you take me there Do you think I could be a star like Rigoberto I don’t know what you saw in Rigoberto He’s not so good looking He has crooked teeth that are yellow and yes he’s missing several too And he is like a diseased dog I hope he didn’t give you herpes but I suppose everyone has herpes in Hollywood so that isn’t so bad I should get used to it You should really consider taking me I will fit in your case Here let me do this special thing I can do with my tongue Not even Rigoberto could do it Have you ever seen someone die It’s not so special…
I let him do the thing with the tongue, because he was already there, and as he gathered his belongings after, my eyes lingered over him. There was something to him, something that had captivated me. Stay, I said. I have an idea.
I searched my desk for a pen and notepad, and in the days that followed, me and the new boy finished the script quickly. Not once did he leave the hotel room; I made him stay, I couldn’t risk losing him too. I sent the script to my agent, who said he could get some heavy-hitters behind it, and to hurry on home, so me and the new boy jumped on the first flight back. Within weeks we were shooting on a soundstage. Within a year, the premiere. He held my waist as cameras flashed. A red Valentino gown hung off my body in soft strips. The reviews were cruel. My agent told me that the fetal alcohol syndrome look was back, and maybe I should consider returning to that other hemisphere for a brisk visit? The new boy refused to join. I have a new life here, he said, a heavy gold necklace over his neck, his hair pulled back with gel. I asked if his tan was fake, and when did he get dental implants?
I told you, he said, this is home now.
If only your pimp had found you first, I said.
I know what you are now, he said. A Republican!
I returned to the cheap hotel, pressed myself close to the balcony. With bandages over my face, I whistled up for boys. In the dark, I asked for their names. Now that I had returned, I felt the pain of his absence. I missed Rigoberto so much. Plump tears squirted from my eyes. I said, Are you Rigoberto?
Are you Rigoberto?
Are you Rigoberto?
I can be whoever you want me to be, one boy said. I am good at acting I can be international movie star I will read you Hilda Hilst translations I can be your lover boy I am oh so talented You have no idea My mom calls me a good boy I am her special boy I will be your special boy your lover boy your good boy I will chase you like a dog because I know that is what you like A dog in heat Ha ha My attention is for you and you only Is that what you want I will be the next Sonia Braga but male Because I am big big man Big man boy Boy am I a big man Here I can do this thing with my tongue Let me do this thing with my tongue Stop moving so I can do this thing with my tongue…

Joshua Vigil is a writer and educator living in the Pioneer Valley. His writing has appeared in Hobart, Joyland, The Rumpus, and elsewhere. His chapbook Shapeshifter is out now from Bottlecap Press.