Two Hours Until Takeoff Short Stories by Geoffrey Nel Thomas 2012

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Holiday Spirits Near when the holiday season starts in America, I had gotten drunk at an engagement party for two of my friends. When I had exhausted all of my one-liners, and was beyond the point of nabbing any free, young woman at the party, I decided it was time to leave. I got into my car and lit a cigarette before turning the ignition key. What had I had to drink? Six beers? I think I smoked some pot, thatll slow me down some Ill be fine. Sitting in the car, I became particularly horny. I knew what part of town I was in, and although I had heard stories of people picking up hookers, I had never done it nor seen the process in action. I can do it, its still early enough to find some woman walking down the street looking for an extra forty bucks to suck my dick. I might need some help, though. Stopping at an intersection one block down from the apartment I just left, two older men approached my car. They were looking for a handout, and I was in the holiday spirit, so I offered them a ride to wherever they needed to go. The two men got into the car, and I asked, Where to? Take a left. Said the man in the back seat. Left, you got it. So how are yall doing tonight? Fine, fine, fine. They said. You know, Ive got some treats here if you want any. Theres some peanut brittle on the floorright, below your feet, sir. I pointed to a tray of peanut brittle my mother had made for me that was on the floor. Oh shit. Said the man in the passengers seat. Take some. I said. The man seated next to me took a few bites, but the man in the back seat refused to eat.

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Turn right here. Said the man in the back of the car. I turned, and he said, Yeah, right here. You can let me off here. Say man you wouldnt be able to help a brother out, would you? Sure, no problem, man. And I handed him a twenty dollar bill. Dont spend it all in one place, all right. Yeah, okay. I stopped the car, and the man ran out, disappearing into the night. Well shit, he wasnt any help. I said. What do you need help with? The man seated next to me was twitching, I felt calm but he appeared to be moving as if he were spiked with motor oil and radioactive materials. I want to pick up a woman. I said. You want a hooker. All right, all right. Lets see keep driving. I continued driving, I want to find some pussy. How do you like the peanut brittle? Its okay. There slow down there take out your money. We slowed down near a woman who was walking alone down a side street. I couldnt make her face, but she didnt appear too fat to fuck. Hey, honey, you want to party? He said to the woman. Yeah, you want to party? Come on. I said to her. The tweaker said to me, Show her the money, show get it out. Uh, uh, no thank you. She said, and quickly walked along the intersection. You got to have the money out right away man. They aint gonna want to party unless you show them that green. Right, okay, Ill keep the money out. Good advice. I replied. [3]

We turned down another street, another young woman was walking alone. Her ass looked cushy, and tight I could see myself fucking her. Slow down, well get something. As we got closer to the woman, the tweaker leaned out his window and said, Hey baby, looking for a good time? The woman turned around. Her ass may have said 20, but her face said 16. Whoa. No. I said, and drove right past the jailbait without so much as acknowledging to my traveling companion why I didnt slow down. He knew. Shit. He said. I grew impatient at our bad luck, and voiced it aloud, You know of any place I can find some pussy? Im getting really fucking anxious here, man! Yeah okay I know a place TAKE A LEFT HERE! After I had waited five minutes in the car for him to return from the house he ran into, the tweaker returned and waved me over. I turned off the engine and walked into the house through the sliding back door. I didnt see any women around, in fact, there were only men here; some skinny and frail, some muscle-bound and fearsome. I entered into the kitchen, and the tweaker told the strongest-looking man in the room, I got your money. In the next room I could see a dirtied mattress on the floor. Beyond that room, a door opened, and a man, buckling up his belt, walked out. Inside the room he just left, a fat woman lay on the bed. Her arm positioned vertically, a cigarette gathered ash in between the fingers of her left hand. You want some pussy? Said the strong man to me. Thats what I was looking for. Come on, white boy, you got the money? Yeah. I said, without showing any of the money. [4]

Well lets go, then. Walking past the mattress, and the woman in bed in the other room, we entered the other bedroom. A young, naked Thai woman sat on the edge of the bed and smoked a crack pipe with a man who looked like a regular user. His clothes were tattered, and his appearance had been neglected over at least thirty years. Are you finished? Said the strong man, pushing his way to one corner of the room, Give me that. He took the crack pipe from the woman and handed it to the man standing beside him. The tweaker confronted me, forcing me into a corner of the room, Youve got the money, right? Youve got it, right? The money, you said you had it, remember, man? Remember, you said Yeah, Ive got it, hold on. I took out seventy dollars from my wallet, and handed it to the tweaker, who promptly gave it to the strong mans associate. The woman looked up at me and smiled, she was missing her front teeth they had rotted away. A burst of laughter started, and before I could ask someone what the cause of the laughter was, they pointed to my crotch and my bulging erection. He likes the girl! One of them said. Yeah, yeah, gimme that. Said the tweaker as he was handed the crack pipe and smoked, and smoked, and they all smoked to fill up the room. You, white boy, get to fuckin. Said the strong man. Excuse me? How am I going to get onto the bed with all of them in this room? Its packed. This is Chineeza, I think, whats your name, baby? The Thai woman said something I couldnt discern, but it was obvious she had repeated her name numerous times, and was upset he didnt remember it.. [5]

Whatever. Dumb bitch. Anyway, shes yours you got fifteen minutes. Here right now? One of the men unzipped their pants and took his cock out, God damn hurry up, kid, Im getting fucking wet right now. You wet, girl? She nodded her head and pet his dick. Fifteen minutes. Fuck, or get out. I crawled over the bed to the young woman, she gently forced me to lay down, Take your shirt off, she said, and she began to unbuckle my belt while rubbing my hard-on. I began to feel the effects of the drugs, and my initial reflex to observe everything that was happening in the room disappeared. All I felt were her lips on my head, her tongue swirling around in there her spit and my dick oil, with her gums gnawing on my cock. When I opened my eyes, I was on top of her and on the brink of coming. I looked over to my left and saw that the room was empty, and I was with this woman alone. Dont stop, baby! Muck me! Muck me now! She was unable to sound out her Fs, but I knew what she meant. So I obliged, grabbed her ass and drove it home. I came hard inside her, and falling over onto her back, I passed out.

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Picadors Bar It was dark, so it must have been night. Id forgotten what time it was since the bar had no windows, and no clocks. I was on the patio at Picadors Bar smoking a cigarette and trying to blend in. I had a camera in my hand, and I had been taking snapshots of people throughout the night. This was supposed to be the beginning of my foray into candid photography, my eyes had been replaced with Garry Winogrands. No one minded when a flash of light appeared in close proximity, or when I walked up to strangers and photographed them without giving any explanation to my purpose. If they did ask, I spoke over the loud music and made sure they heard these three words: artist, drunk, project. I always offered to buy them a beer, they always respectfully declined. I was on a break from rubbing up against bodies (it was a narrow place) when I stood outside smoking that cigarette. I overheard three black men talking shop across the way, and I became interested in taking a portrait of one of them. I walked over to the group and excused myself, I was wondering if I could take your picture? I said. Two of the men backed away as I spoke with the shorter one, Mother fucker why you want to take my picture? Whats the purpose of you photographing me? I saw you in there taking pictures. Im interested in who you are, thats all. Why am I so interesting? Look at all those people over there. He pointed to a group of palefaced, long-haired, pot-smoking nerds gathered around a fire made from cardboard PBR boxes. I could overhear conversations about Doctor Who, someone mentioned a lightsaber, and I returned my attention back. Your face shows age on it, I find that interesting to capture on film. No, no, fuck you. You know if I had a gun right now I would shoot you in the leg! Get the fuck outta here white boy. [7]

Im sorry I bothered you. I walked over to where I was last standing, albeit a bit shook up, and smoked another cigarette alone. A woman who was selling handmade jewelry offered to smoke me up, and I accepted. We began talking about the films of Stanley Kubrick. At this point in my life all of my answers were rote, and I had nothing new to say about any of his films other than how amazing they were. Barry Lyndons my favorite. Ive never seen that one. She said. Aside from a somewhat melancholy story, its one of the most beautiful experiences you can have watching a movie. The short man walked over to me a little later and apologized for being so blunt with me. He told me that he only reacted naturally, and that he never really would have shot me in the leg. He said that he had recently gotten out of prison after fifteen years inside, and was also battling an addiction to crack cocaine, again. He told me that he had gone to prison at the age of 15 because he murdered a white kid in Chicago. If he was defensive, it was only because of his recent acclimation into life outside. We found some common ground when he recognized me as an artist, because he said that when he was in prison they discouraged reading. I love writing but they were against that, I found so many stories to tell but no one wanted to read them. Can you believe that? They didnt want us to fucking read anything. They was supposed to be helping us change our lives. I was drunk and stoned, but this man had my attention because of how sincere he was to me: a stranger; a young, naive, white man. He encouraged me to continue making art, because its better than killing. After he had finished telling me his life story, I asked him again if I could take his photograph. Hee stared at me, dumbfounded at my persistence. [8]

NO. Werent you listening to me, man? He said, shaking his head in disapproval. I offered to buy him a beer when we were finished, he declined, but I gave him a cigarette, anyway. I opened the door for him, and we walked into the narrow joint. He disappeared into the crowd of dirty longhairs, while I stopped at the bar. I ordered a drink, let out a deep sigh, and guzzled the gin and tonic as quickly as possible. I looked around the room at who I was surrounded by: every face was trying to catch the eye of someone else, everyone was young and sweaty and had gauged ears and arms covered with tattoos and everyone was selling something, some people didnt give a fuck, others still had time left. I became disinterested in all of them. I seemed to have spoken with everyone here before, and having heard their stories, none of them piqued my interest.

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Forgotten Love Its too loud at Pedros new years eve party. The loudness from the music is overwhelming, and on top of that, people continue their conversations over the music. People are dressed in high fashion, black suits and shimmering dresses. Decorations flank the walls, a hue of gold haunts the bubbly atmosphere. Roy sits alone on a couch next to a table that has bowls of snacks, and empty beer bottles on it; theres a glass of water on the edge of the table. Roy looks dressed up with nowhere to go. Miranda sits down beside Roy. Mirandas stark, black hair compliments her pale skin; shes dressed in a black skirt that rests just above her knees. She has had a couple glasses of wine already, and it shows in the way she walks and talks. Roy! What are you doing here? She says. Hmm? Roy seems pre-occupied with a fleeting thought as he begins his conversation with Miranda. Oh, hi Miranda. Roy, why do you look so glum? Come on its a party! Woo! Miranda raises her glass and screams, other people reply to her scream with more shouts and yelling, clinking of glasses and drinking. Yeah, that it is. No but seriously, whats up? How are you? Just fine, actually. Yeah, doing fine here. You look good. Thank you. Youre welcome. Hows Terry? Terry and me, we broke up. Miranda looks down into her glass, sullenly. Aw, sorry to hear that. Yeah, its no big deal, I mean - we grew apart, you know, our differences finally got the worst of us and, and, and it was amibicle, amiclable Miranda drunkenly attempts to correct herself. Amicable? States Roy. Right, amicable. I think Ive had too much wine! Roy laughs, At least no one got hurt What are you drinking? You want a taste? [10]

Okaaay Miranda attempts to stare seductively into Roys eyes as she takes his glass and drinks, Its water. Says Roy. Ahh-- water?! Its a celebration, come on! Im not trying to be a downer, but I dont drink anymore. Well, thats admurrable, Roy, certainly, it is. Youre not a downer, though, no. But you look like one sitting here alone on the couch. And thats why you came over, to cheer me up? I dont like to see people alone! Especially on a night like tonight. Whats so different about tonight? Its a new years party. So what? Exactly! You want to start the year off right, right? You dont want to look back and say, in 2010 I sat on the couch, alone, drinking water and watching other people have fun. Thats no way to enter a new year! Thats how you see it, Miranda, its not how I see it. Im content sitting here and watching other people get shit-faced. I dont want to do that anymore. I came here because Pedro invited me, and I needed to get out of the house for once. Well maybe you dont have to get super-duper drunk to have a good time, but you can have one little sippy, cant you...? Miranda teases Roy with her lipstick-smudged glass of wine. Are you trying to tempt me? Maybe... A sneaky smile grows on one side of her face, she turns her head down and a curl of her hair falls over her face. Have you found anyone to kiss on the strike of midnight, Miranda? I think I have. Oh you have already, wow, whos the lucky fella? Miranda slaps her lips on Roys. Miranda hiccups, and the kissing stops. I think youve had too much to drink. I can taste all of it. He says. No I havent. Come on, Rob. Its not midnight yet. Its always midnight. Says Miranda. What? [11]

Just do this. Miranda goes in for another kiss. Roy interrupts the moment with the glass of water. Miranda backs off. I can take a hint, asshole. Miranda stumbles off the couch and disappears in the crowd of people. When Roy finishes his glass of water, he looks at his wrist watch: 9:30pm. Time to go.

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Sunday Sun Sofia and Marcus are in their early twenties, she has amber hair, he has black. They sit in a small park near the edge of the great lake. Apartment buildings tower over Sofia and Marcus, the reflections of lights in ground floor lobbies illuminate the two of them as they each sit on swings. The night air is cool, the wind is erratic, but the intervening heat keeps them mellow. I brought you here because I wanted to talk to you. Sofia says. Okay. Why did we have to come out here, we could have stayed in my apartment. Marcus replies. Its nice outside, I thought it would be nice to have a walk. You still dont like my friends, do you? What? No, that has nothing to do with being here. All right. No, Marcus, I think your friends are cool. We just spend a lot of time there, you know, with not that much time to ourselves. I see. Yeah. I hope thats okay. Yeah, thats fine. No worries. Marcus bites his thumbnail to the edge, and peels off the edge too far, it bleeds. Great. So what did you want to talk about? Marcus asks. Hmm? Says Sofia. You said you wanted to talk to me, what is it Right, the conversation. Marc, weve been together for a long time. Are you breaking up with me? No... no, can you let me finish? I thought you were finished. I was just getting started. Dont be such an asshole. So youre not breaking up with me? No, Marcus. Im not breaking up with you. All right. Go on. Marcus sucks the blood from his thumb. [13]

I wanted to bring you out here because I wanted to tell you something. Something that I couldnt talk about up there in the loft with your pals hanging around. Okay. Ive been having these strange dreams, Marcus, like, really bizarre dreams. Yeah? Yes, and Im getting really scared by them. Theyre, like, lucid dreams? Dreams so vivid you think its really happening? Exactly. Wait, lucid dreams? Yeah. Whats happened to make you scared? Well, you see, I keep having this recurring dream where I see you die. I see your death, and how you get killed, down to the tiniest detail. The dream keeps repeating itself to me. I dream about your death every night. How long has this been going on? Two weeks, give or take. Marcus stares into the ground. Honey? She says to Marcus, trying to snap him out of his stare. How do I die? He says. You get hit by a car, over there. Sofia points to a large, busy intersection fifty few yards from where they stand. I get hit by a car? Must be a big car. Not really. In this dream that I have, you are crossing the street, you have a walk signal and cross the street, but someone opposite decides to run the light and hits you at eighty miles an hour. I try to find out where you land, but I cant find you, its too dark. Then I wake up. Do you ever try to stop me from getting hit, or distract the driver at all? No hes going too fast! Ive tried to help you, but youre always in the same spot when I see you, and its always too late to save you. You could have some control over your dreams, okay, arrive earlier in the dream and stop it from happening. Being lucid in your dreams means having control over what you can do being conscious in your dreaming state. Marcus... Sofia puts her hand in his. [14]

Why did you bring me here? Please dont overreact. How would I overreact, Sofia? Its just a dream. Dreams dont come true. Please, dont. What do you want to do? I have these nightmares every night, they wont go away, I dont know why. Its torturing me, Marcus. To see you die every night, its torture. I cant take it anymore. Can you, just, walk across the street... to the other side? I just need to see you alive tonight. You want me to act out your dream for you? Yes. Please. If you think this will get rid of your nightmares, all right Ill do it. Thank you, thank you. Sofia says. Marcus walks down the street to the intersection. Sofia stands by and watches, Marcus look back to Sofia. Marcus walks across the pedestrian walkway, a loud car horn honks. Marcus disappears behind the stream of cars and bright lights. Sofia runs down to the intersection, she cannot see Marcus on the other side of the street. The walk light turns go, and Sofia runs across the street, herself nearly run over from the turning traffic. Marcus sits with his arms stretched across the top of a bench. Relaxed, Marcus crosses one leg over the other, and smiles at Sofia. Marcus! Yells Sofia, running up to him. Hey, you found me. Side by side, Marcus and Sofia embrace in a warm kiss.

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Its All In Your Mind Soledad stood in front of the group must have been more than one thousand people and the words began spinning in her head. She looked down at the podium, opened the folder and began her speech. For those of you who made it here today, I congratulate you. One must not forget those we lost along the way. Id like to take a moment to remember all of those people who have touched our lives along this, your final journey. Soledad had everything planned out. She had written the speech specifically for this graduating class over the course of two months (Mostly in the back booth at Zimmers Bar over many cocktails), and her words were accurate, and, she thought, to the point. Soledad looked up from her papers, and met the eyes of young adults ready to charge the world with their ideas, their values; their excitement shone in each expression no matter how boisterous or timid. Mrs. Soledad began the speech Life is a journey, and although some of you may think its the end its the beginning of a beautiful friendship between yourself and the world... And she stopped, Soledad began to sweat. Soledad wiped the sweat from her forehead, and scratched her neck. Someone coughed from behind her, ahem. Is this really worth it? Are you all going to accomplish your dreams, or are you going to be disappointed with what destiny you end up living? One man in black moves in through the crowd towards the podium. Another on the opposite side hes wearing sunglasses and I cant see his eyes. Are they blue? Black? Hazel? Green? Maybe he doesnt have any eyes. I can never imagine the shape of someones eyes when theyre obscured from me. If its one thing Ive learned in life that I can give you advice on, well, it may as well be infidelity. Ive learned that staying true to your word is harder than it seems, and yet life is more easier that way. You dont get any respect for this, I can tell you that, but who gives a fuck? [16]

This is your life to live, and I dont think you should let anyone get you down if thats your thing. The sweat was dripping faster, heavier, down Soledads face now. Dontuhthink about what youre going to do next, thats a waste of time. Act on the impulse, act with instinct and if your instinct is shoddy, get someone to look after you. What I mean is, dont let yourself die, get someone else to do it for you. If you have friends, forget about them. Theyre already dead. If you have family, theres a distinct chance theyve always been gone, and youre simply reliving their memories until you are dead. The crowd shifted in uncomfortable, awkward, erratic waves. Murmurs and voices in the distance set off that chain in my mind of when I entered the city by helicopter, and all of the skyscrapers sang their angelic voices to me because they knew I was coming for them. Every drug party I went to he was there, and I missed his eyes every time. I dont think this life is worth it, my friends. Soledad felt the heat inside her boil over, and falling to the ground knocked her head on the corner of the podium. Waking inside the back of a limousine, Soledad opened her eyes to see an overweight man pointing a cold gun at her face. He was panting in short breaths, sweat dripped down and soaked the doughy rolls he called his neck. I cant do it. I cant Soledads eyes grew wider, and she understood her situation clearly. You mother fucker His fat fingers released themselves from the gun handle. The fat man went limp, and now his body was no more a vessel of human indecency, a repugnant vision of a life gone wrong, it was in the way. Soledad wondered how long it took for the body to shut down completely after death, like how a car winds down after being shut off theres still trace elements present afterwards or if everything shuts off immediately, as definite as a beheading. The body didnt speak, it didnt move, Soledad expected the body to reanimate itself, as in she was watching his dream play out in reality. She wiped the sweat off her brow and knelt down in front of the dead, fat man. Soledad searched his coat pockets and found his wallet. She opened the wallet and observed its contents. [17]

Mister Lime. She said. The body rumbled, Soledad poked its stomach and waited for a reaction. Nothing. She placed her ear against the tummy and listened, moving the belly more vigorously than before. From outside the limousine, a car screeched to a halt. The doors to the limousine opened immediately, and two men wearing black suits and earpieces dragged Soledad out of the vehicle and into the dry heat of the desert. Who are you? What are you doing here? Let me go! Let me go! Where are you taking me? And despite her insistent questioning, no one answered her.

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Bad Luck Shadow Roger Brown woke up to the mess of sounds coming from the television in the other room. Rogers presets had all been turned on, and there were fifty-seven channels on concurrently. As Roger walked into the living room the channels illuminated according to the direction his eyes wandered, and so the morning weather expanded 25% larger than the other panels of video. The ten-day forecast called for highs in the 20s, lows in the single digits; at night going below zero temperatures. Today I have a doctors appointment. The weather will be considerably warmer than yesterday, so I should wear something light yet comfortable. Rogers internal thoughts were direct and rational. He lived on a series of rituals which kept him from making mistakes, rituals which kept him in line and on time. Make the coffee, take the shower, brush the teeth (even though I brushed them last night I need to be fresh for today), drink the coffee, eat the breakfast because this is the most important meal of the day. Roger parts his orange hair to the left. Roger had blue eyes, he wore glasses which he bought in his twenty-ninth year. Rogers nose curved up, the top lip reaching above his front teeth. Roger wore a tan suit he bought at J.C. Pennys. The tie around his neck had geometric designs, and muted colors. The tie was given to him as a gift for his service as a terrific number cruncher. He had been wearing the same black shoes for five years, every year hed replaced the sole. There was a message waiting for Roger. He pressed a small metallic button, and an instant message appeared in the air: Happy Birthday! From all of us at Alpha Dental! Roger was thirty-six today. After washing his hands he drank a glass of water in a chipped glass that he had always wanted to throw away, but kept around, because the act of dodging the broken section of glass was another routine he could always rely on. It was ten-thirty by the time Roger exited the doctors office. Roger had given ample notice to the company on his doctors visit today, he was not worried about arriving late. Roger [19]

entered the office and sat down in his cubicle, there was a bowl of stale popcorn from last Friday next to his outgoing mail. Roger dumped the popcorn into the trash bin, and allowed his computer to boot up. Roger did not let other people on to his condition the entire day. In fact, like every day, no one noticed Roger enough to barely give him a reason to mention his plight. At a certain point in the day he thought it might be considerate to allow at least one person know of his prognosis (even his boss), but soon that moment passed. What should I do in this situation? I have terminal cancer, that I am sure of, the doctor and his tests made that clear enough. The doctor gave me my choices, my chances of recovery... he said, I have six months. What will I tell Brenda? How will she react to this news? Should I even tell her that I have esophageal cancer? Perhaps its best, at this point at least, to keep this to yourself. No one needs to know of this news. It will be in my best interest, and those of my coworkers, to never mention this again. Roger arrived home to Brenda, his golden retriever. Brenda was sitting on the living room couch when Roger arrived home. Roger did not mind this, but rather enjoyed seeing his dog so comfortable. Roger fed Brenda, and filled her water bowl to the tip of the lip. The sun had set right on time, and the heater clicked on before the cold could saturate the air. There was the infinite on the video screen, a computer-generated replication of Joel McHale reciting the words of the Communation, See the world. Smile at a stranger. Open the door for someone else. Stop and smell the roses. Enjoy today, you never know what it will bring. Say Yes. Do what your heart tells you. Keep hold of your dreams, never let them go. Groove your body for ten minutes, three times a day. Eat more vegetables. Eat more fruits. Life is short, stay awake for it. Go for it. Be the best you can be. During that night Roger watched the film, The Bucket List, on channel 232. Roger made a list of things he wanted to do before he died. The first item on the list: Visit a place you have never been to before. The next day, Roger visited his local savings and loan. Explaining to the clerk his situation, Rogers job was relocating him to Utah, and since there were no branches of this [20]

particular bank near the city he was moving to, Roger needed to empty both his savings and checking accounts. When the clerk asked Roger if he wouldnt mind giving her the name of the bank, he asked why. We can send your new bank all of your personal information, to make the transition easier. I would just like my money in my hands now. Roger replied. Roger left Brenda behind, as well as all of his personal belongings, in his apartment. He drove his car to the airport and parked on the top level. Standing in front of the streaming reports of flight schedules, Roger picked the flight that was nearest to take-off and bought a ticket to Amsterdam. Would you like a complimentary blueberry scone, sir? An overweight employee of B&B Coffee floated next to Roger. Her folds of fat draped over the contraption that aided her mobility. No, thank you. Roger said, taking a sip of coffee. The woman scooted away to the next person she saw. Roger sat in the court across from the boarding gates. His thoughts were blank, his only reactions being bodily decisions of when to take the next sip of coffee. Attention. Attention. An electronic voice on the overhead speakers spoke. Flight 2631 to Amsterdam has been delayed due to snow storms. Another flight is being re-scheduled. Please... Attention, Flight 2631 to Amsterdam has been delayed due to snow storms... Roger stood up from his chair. He threw his coffee into the garbage can and walked closer to the boarding gates for flight 2631. A video screen displayed the cockpit of flight 2631, the pilot glanced at the camera through his speech, Sorry about this folks, its getting very hairy out here. We did not expect this weather so soon, actually, so we are going to take the precaution of laying low. We will keep you informed on our progress.

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The crowd dispersed from the video screen; some people sat down and waited, while others called the airline to complain. Roger walked back to the court and sat down in the same chair. The obese woman appeared again, Excuse me, sir, would you like a complimentary blueberry scone? Im not hungry, thank you. Roger began thinking about when the symptoms of his cancer would become visible. For a moment he wondered if he should have taken the doctors advice, and gone in for treatment. Youd think by now they would have found a cure for cancer. Im terminal, and if I tell no one about my sickness, I can die in peace. That is unless the doctor submitted my information to the Communation Board of Health. On the chance that the doctor did submit the information, I have cause for worry. On the other hand, if he did not submit the information, I can forget about my visit and move forward. Even if the doctor did submit the information to the board of health, do you know how long it takes for that information to get processed? Months. Roger scratched his ankle through his sock, but it still itched. He pulled down his sock, and scratched the skin above the bone. Roger kept scratching, soon he used both hands to scratch either side of his left leg. A tourist group filed through the court. They were loud, and made their presence felt with radiant talk of sun, water, sand, air. Rogers eyes followed the group across the court and to the boarding gate for flight 3250, Isla de Chiloe, Chile. Roger ordered a scotch and soda. The video screens displayed commercials for hair vacuums, most people had their headphones on and were attentive. The audio lowered as a soothing, female voice spoke English/Spanish/Japanese into the headphones. Attention passengers, the current time is five o seven, our trajectory places us at two hours from landing in South America. Temperature is 29.4 degrees centigrade. Enjoy the rest of your flight, and if there is anything we can do for you dont hesitate to ask. Thank you for flying Air Obra. [22]

[23]

Side of the Road Anita flew first-class to Chile. Although her lawyers advised her not to take this vacation, she did it anyway. Going through her third divorce, Anita was being accused of infidelity, extortion, and blackmail. She knew she was innocent, indeed, if she had the slightest doubt as to her verdict she would never have left counselors. Yet the load became too much for Anita, and she rightly said, fuck it, and left. In spite of having the predictable seasonal cold, she left town for a break from the madness that surrounded her. Anita remembered a time, in her early twenties, when she romanticized love. It was in that time she searched for intimacy. Anita did not find romance right away, but when she did, she learned of the heartbreak one encounters throughout young adulthood. Once she knew how to play the game to her advantage, Anita found life easier as a ravenous lover. She had decided that the only way not to have ones heart broken was to keep those persons of interest at a safe distance away. Emotion was easy to manipulate, and physical intimacy was a sport. Excuse me, can I get through here? The old woman seated next to Anita wished to stand up. Oh, Im sorry, sure. Anita replied, and stood in the aisle. I have to use the restroom. The old woman walked down the aisle toward the ladies room. Anita sat back down, and put her headphones back on. Textile arts was something that Anita became fascinated with in her youth, but over time her interests spread to other ventures. Anita began to make clothes, not only for herself but for people she knew. She read about village women from Chile who made their living weaving bags. Despite reading about these women from sites on the internet, Anita wanted to see them first hand. She needed to visit the land where such fabrics were cultivated into three-dimensional objects of worth. Upon landing in Chile, Anita was robbed someone stole her luggage that carried all her garments and tools. After getting in a taxi and checking into her hotel, Anita was lead to a local clothing shop. She bought a few necessities, and a nice dress that she wore to a restaurant that night. [24]

The restaurant was busy, the bar was jammed. Anita looked around the restaurant and admired all of the faces she saw. In her journal she wrote down her present journey, including all of her thoughts, feelings and memories. An older man saw Anita sitting alone, and invited himself to her table. Anita did not object to his company, she was eager to become enthralled in an interesting conversation with a stranger in a new land. The older man introduced himself as Harry, and by his slurred speech, was obviously drunk. Harrys concentration was specifically on Anitas thighs and breasts. Despite his regal appearance, a distasteful lewdness appeared much too quickly for Anitas preference. Anita politely asked Harry to leave her table, but he refused, and began to fondle the inside of Anitas thighs. She slapped him in the face, telling Harry to leave immediately. Drawing attention to herself, the waiter asked Anita if everything was all right. Harry was just leaving, she said, and Harry disappeared into the crowd. No one else came to Anitas side the entire night beside the check. The next day, taking her rental car through the village, Anita shopped at all of the stores. Through word of mouth advice, Anita eventually found her way to Mitjanit, a small town at the top of a hill some twenty miles away from town. On her way to Mitjanit, Anita spotted several women waiting at a bus stop on the side of the road. At the bus stop the women were weaving bags and garments from handmade cloth. Anita stopped by the side of the road and approached the village women. Anita spoke some Spanish, but her mere visual, hand-gestured expressions told the women all they needed to know. Before she knew it Anita was standing beside a tree, weaving together a portion of garment. Anita got the hang of it, she was doing well by them. Later on, when the bus arrived, one of the women gave Anita a small handbag as a gift. Continuing on the road toward the town on the hill, Anita drove past a man standing alone near the edge of a cliff. When he stepped over the embankment, and leaned toward the big empty, Anita stopped her car, put it in reverse and swiftly drove back to him. [25]

Anita told Roger that he much to live for, that living was better than death, and he should look on the bright side of things for once. Without explaining to Anita his reasons for suicide, Roger continued to question her, asking for reasons why he shouldnt kick the bucket. Look at where you are. She said, opening her arms to the fantastic scenery that surrounded them. The low clouds appeared to be attached to strings, and whenever Roger tugged on them they came closer. For miles around one could see the history of the earth in the eroded sediment. The sunlight burst through the clouds, a brook kept busy, and a million years passed before Rogers eyes. His senses were amplified, and he could smell every flower, could hear every bird and touch every single blade of grass. He introduced himself as Ralph, and together Anita and Roger drove towards Mitjanit.

[26]

Edge of Town Burt, a rancher from Mari dg, came to Mitjanit because he needed to buy wool for his wife. Now, this rancher could have bought wool from his neighbor Alfonso but Burt is not here simply for the wool. Burt is here for Julia, the young woman that sells the wool. Burt is married, but his wife, Catarina, is dying from tuberculosis - all the villagers know this. She spends her days in bed, making sweaters, socks, bags, hats, what have you, to keep her mind pre-occupied. Burt takes it upon himself to purchase the wool his wife requests, so aside from maintaining the crops and animals, Burt spends his time with the twenty-year old Julia. The villagers are aware Burt is busy, but they only suspect his relationship with Julia. After purchasing his usual bale of wool from Julia, Burt entered the barrio to order a drink. A group of local villagers watched Burt sip on his beer. Burt smoked an entire cigarette before asking the bartender to watch his things for a quick moment, he had to step out. The men approached the bag, the bartender had gone into the kitchen. Julia was not wearing any panties, Burt made love to her quickly but not without proper lust. I want to leave with you. Julia would always say. But I am married, you cannot go with me until Catarina is dead. Burt was buttoning up his pants. When will she die? Why cant she be dead already? She will be gone soon, not to worry. Then can I live with you? Julia sat up. Then we can live together, yes. Julia hugged Burt, When can I see you again? Not another two weeks, that was too much. [27]

My wife cannot spin all that wool, by herself no less, so quickly these days... I will come for you tomorrow night. Pack your bags. Burt kissed Julia on the lips. The village men persuade Burt to have another drink. They catch up with stories, and news from other villages; Rick enters the bar and notifies everyone of his treasure, I have just won two horses and two cows in a bet, Lets have a toast to fate! The men are exuberant to Ricks luck, and Burt is still feeling the fleshy ecstasy from Julia. Drinks all around, lets get a table. The men drink all night long, and past the point of correct judgment, they begin a contest of stamina. Burt manages to see sunrise through a haze of alcohol and smoke. Some men fall over, others continue the drinking contest on through today. In a quiet moment (because the guitar player had been passed out for the last ten minutes), Burt confesses his love affair with Julia. Julias father, Leon, had been sobering up for an hour as he stood near the table. Leons rage boiled up inside as he listened to Burts speech dedicated to Julia. The eyes of the room fell on Leon, Burt did not seem to notice for he continued drinking, I have never been so happy than when I am with her. I mean beside how much I love her pussy As the morning sun edges on ten oclock, Roger turns a corner in Mitjanit, nearly tripping over the body of a man wading in a puddle of piss, puke, and beer. Roger peers into the barrio, a very intense conversation occurs in the middle table. Roger enters and listens. As Anita finishes her purchase of a variety of wool, Roger approaches her. Can I come with you the rest of the way? Roger asks. I dont see why not. You can tell me all about Curacao on the way back to town. Fantastic.

[28]

While driving, Anita receives a page from an unknown number. They stop at a gas station, Anita uses the restroom, and returns the call. Anitas sister has just given birth to a baby boy, weighing six pounds & eight ounces. Anita says shes sorry to not have been there, Seems that baby decided he wanted to be in the world earlier than we expected. Anita walks out of the gas station to find her car, and Roger along with it, missing. Looking down the road, Anita can see a long trail of dust. In a Mexican town, Roger stops at a strip club. He spends all night getting drunk, the third lap-dance he receives makes Roger come in his pants; he continues drinking. Later that night Roger finds himself on the edge of a bar, sipping on the umpteenth drink of that particular phase, talking to a woman whom he deems attractive. She has big tits, but they are not fat tits. I cant notice any disease prevalent but then again I cant see much in this light. She has a very nice ass, and I am making her laugh.

[29]

Broken Drum Roger takes Nathalie back to her motel room, he couldnt get it up, and she tries to get him hard, Stick your cock in my asshole, she says. Roger doesnt respond, laying on his back, he looks up at the reflections of car lights on the ceiling. For a moment, he forgot where he was, and why he was here. No you bend over get on your stomach. Says Roger. You big man, you got fire. She says. Roger was being kissed and caressed by the tanned woman. After fucking for two hours, he could not bring himself to red, although he lay still, his mind was being bombarded with turning thoughts. This was it, he thought, this was the end of the line. There wasnt enough pleasure to keep him satisfied anymore, and the pain he had wanted the pain to last forever. If only he could stay in that moment through time: naked, sweating, his heart a bloody murmur, lying next to his woman. No past, yesterday gone, no last week, or last year, and no next year. No plans, no voices just the music of the ocean waves, the wind moving through the trees. Warm sand on his feet, cool milk to quench his thirst, succulent woman to momentarily quell his pain. After fucking Nathalie for two hours, finally coming inside her, she says, I got my tubes tied after I had my first daughter. Before that I was a prostitute, my name was Cupcake. You are not a prostitute anymore? Roger asks. No. I thought you were cute, I wanted to fuck you. No one forced me, thats the difference. Uh huh. Nathalie lights a cigarette, she cuddles up to Roger, puts the ashtray on his stomach. What about you, have any kids? [30]

No kids. Do you have a girlfriend, or a wife? No... none of that. I had a dog once, closest thing to a companion one could have. What kind of dog was it? Golden retriever, her name was Linda. You named your dog Linda? Was that revenge or something? Nathalie laughs, pulls on her handle of vodka, exhales a cloud of smoke. Are you happy, Ron? Thats kind of a strange question to ask someone, isnt it? Roger replies. I dont think so. What do you want out of life? Burrowing deep inside his brain, he first tries to say what he wants to internally, but there are no words that spring to his aid. Nothing. Ive never wanted anything. You gotta want something? You wanted my pussy, and you got that. Are you satisfied with that? I dont know. I suppose if thats what you call satisfaction. Mother fucker! Youre god damned right thats what you call satisfaction. It was good fuckIm drunk. Have another drink. [31]

Thank you. Roger pours more vodka into Nathalies glass. How much money did you say you had? She asks, sipping on her drink, lighting another cigarette. Close to fifteen thousand. Shit, thats more than I make in a year. You should stay with me. Okay. Roger replies, after no consideration. The next day Nathalie introduces Roger to her six-year old daughter, Lydia. Lydia is courteous, kind, and speaks well. Her mother says that its from all of the television shows she watches, because she definitely didnt get it from her. Roger begins to respond, but a sudden cough overtakes him and he spits out a gob of bloody mucus. After five months, Roger has spent all of his monetary resources. Nathalie still receives unemployment from the government, but occasionally goes out on a job with expensive clients. Roger is broke, and spends most of his days sitting beside the pool, watching the lichen disappear from the trees. Nathalie tells Roger to get a job, so he applies for a position at a tin production factory. Roger and Nathalie dont make love as much as they used to, he never tells her about Anita, nor his trip to South America. Roger makes enough money to help Nathalie pay for Lydias dance lessons. On Thursday, Roger notices his cough once again. On Friday the cough continues to become rougher through Monday, and into Tuesday. Nathalie insists Roger see a doctor. Roger schedules an appointment for the day after next. In the parking ramp, Roger sits in his car. The car idles, the carbon monoxide wades through the humid air. Roger replays and changes every incident in his memory until each one suits him so that all of his memories are now fabrications. Every plan has come true for Roger. This moment he was in, this coffee he was drinking on the third level of this parking lot, was

[32]

exactly where he had intended to be. Every moment of his life, every choice decided upon, has lead up to this point. It seems Roger could not be more satisfied with the way his life turned out. Roger leaves the parking ramp and takes the first road out of town, and continues driving until he cant go any further. When Roger cant drive, he walks until he hitches a ride. When Rogers gone as far as the driver will take him, he starts walking; he sleeps for two hours a night; he eats grains, and forages for protein in the wilderness, when a meal is offered to Roger, he accepts. Roger goes as far as he can before the disease takes control over his body, and he cannot function properly. In a corner, staring at tall grass, and rushes, the insects hovering underneath the incandescent light bulb

[33]

Intermezzo In the basement of the Kip building: broken brick walls, cracked concrete floors, gas and water pipes near the ceiling expose the guts of the building. This is an art gallery, there are paintings by local artists on the walls, steam punk sculptures in the corners, next to which are tables and trays with wine, cheese, strawberries, and the seasonal beer. Tonight is the poetry open mic one is never quite sure what to expect the crowd is relaxed enough that they are willing to accept anything the pros and amateurs profess, even if its horseshit. The audience is still laughing from the last poet and his piece relating to bodily odors when the emcee takes the stage to introduce the next poet. Next up on the stage is Henry Hanoi. Give it up for Henry Hanoi, folks. The crowds laughter still lingers through the room as Henry steps up to the microphone, Good evening, he says. Henrys face is bold, a young crease in between his eyebrows shows a budding seriousness, his hands tremble as he holds his notes. This poem is called, To Hell With Hollywood. Someone claps, another person from the audience yells, yeah fuck Hollywood. Fuck Hollywood. Entertaining garbage, pleasing the morons of America with noise and images no less interesting than I piss in your face. Regurgitate the same story, please, keep telling us the same story because we havent forgotten

[34]

what its like to be a teenager in love. There are no more stories to tell, there are no stories, just moments. Stories: Beginning, Middle, End, its all a farce the only ending is death. Life is a series of moments, situations, instances, that all just happen to bleed into each other. Hollywood can go to hell, it only exists to make a profit. The image machine has no soul, and while were at it-fuck Sundance, as well. They give us a glimpse into something different, but ultimately spoil us with the same idiosyncratic, charming bullshit that makes one film a winner above all the rest, a winner, make this film a winner... follow the rules, boy. Follow their fucking rules and youll go far. [35]

You dont have any interesting ideas, no you dont, because you are a fucking nothing. Learn their rules, son, play their game, and youll be rewarded with greatness or at least, appreciation. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Play some fucking music that the people want to hear. Entertain them with something witty, cute, wry, smart but not too smart that you undermine the intelligence of the audience. We need their money. We are in America, where we dont believe the audience is aware of anything until its told to them. Oh, you cant figure it out for yourself? You cant make a conclusion to something [36]

that has no conclusion? Looking for the plotFUCK THE PLOT. Stories are dead, man, theres only the experience. Fat-ass zookeeper aint gonna tell us how to live. Your imagination, your brain is turning to mush. Fuck Hollywood, and all that they stand for. Fuck the independent companies, who try to please the market with something palatable to the public. Anyone sacrificing sincerity, artistic integrity, perspective, only to please the masses can rot in their own filth and suck my dick, mother fuckers. Henry storms off the stage, taking the microphone with him. Mister Hanoi, would you please return our microphone? We need that. Says the emcee. Although repeating the request, Henry has disappeared from the gallery space. Close to six oclock on a Thursday evening, the sun shouldnt be setting for another three hours or so. Andrei, a Doberman pinscher, waits patiently in front of the apartment entrance for Paul and Sophia. This is a one-bedroom apartment where the kitchen, dining area, living space, are all open and connected to each other. Three other doors are on the opposite wall to the front [37]

door: bedroom, bathroom, back stairwell. The window shades are drawn half-way so one can see the city horizon beneath an azure sky. The shelves are filled with books, the walls are bare. The couch is lived-in, and the kitchen sink is holding dirty dishes. Andreis tail wags as he hears someone running up the stairs. The key unlock the deadbolt to the front door, Paul steps into the apartment. Andrei jumps, barks, shows its affection for its master, while following Paul towards the kitchen. Hey boy, calm down. Mom home? Sophia... Sophia? Not home yet. Paul drops his messenger bag onto the kitchen counter. Once ironed and crisp, Pauls flannel shirt is now wrinkled, and drips with spots of perspiration. Why isnt she home? Where could she be? You want to go for a walk, Andrei? Walk? The dog seems unable to control its excitement as Paul searches for the leash. Pauls cell phone rings, Hey, where are you--? Yeah... okay I took the green line. I told you the red line was under construction today, wellhow long do you think youll be? Yeah Hooking the leash onto Andreis collar, Paul heads to the front door, still speaking to Sofia as he leaves the apartment, dont be angry at me Paul closes the door and locks the deadbolt. An elevated train passes in the distance, the streetlights turn green and cars rush on by music clashes from the stereos of varying loudness: The JBs meet Fleetwood Mac at the intersection, each fighting for air, until the wind carries their sounds across the city, bringing in a flight of birds; a car alarm; a muddle of voices, intonations unclear; a car door slamming shut; the citys wind carries with it the music of a poorly-written summer symphony. From the back door, Sofia enters the apartment. She plugs her cell phone into the A/C adapter, then throws her purse onto the couch. The sky has turned yellow, bursting in through the windows, the setting sunlight touches Sofias red hair, and warms her shoulders as she undresses, walks into the bathroom. Sofia steps beneath the rushing water of the shower. The sky colors change from yellow to orange, red pink, to purple.

[38]

The front door opens, Paul walks in with the dog. He unhooks the leash from Andreis collar, and the dog immediately sits on the couch. Noticing the purse on the couch, Paul becomes aware of the sound of running water from the bathroom. Paul walks into the bathroom. Hello. He says. You fucker, where did you come from? Sofia says, somewhat frightened by Pauls sudden appearance. I didnt mean to scare you. Uh huh, right. You and Andrei went for a walk? Yeah you want some company in there? Climb on in How long have you been in here? Youre all pruney. I dont know. Ive been stealing all the hot water, I dont give a fuck. Thanks for leaving me some, Im still dirty. Do you want me to clean you you need to be washed? Says Sofia in a teasing, seductive voice. This is good Paul says. The sound of the shower water stops, What? Oh thats cold, baby. Where are you going? What-- Paul stops mid-sentence. With a towel wrapped around her body, Sofia runs into the kitchen and opens the freezer. She grabs a handful of ice cubes and takes them back into the bathroom. What are you doing--? AAHH! So cold.

[39]

Sofia is laughing playfully as melted ice cubes hit the tiled floor. The sound of dominance and submission: Paul shrieks, Sofia slaps his back and giggles. Sofia runs out of the bathroom and into the kitchen/living room. What do you want to drink, dahling? Says Sofia, in a Marlene Dietrich accent. Drink? That bad of a day, honey? Says Paul. Im going to pour you a glass of gin, and I Sofia searches through the liquor cabinet, am going to open this bottle of wine. Sofia places the two bottles next to each other on the kitchen counter. She walks into the bedroom just as Paul says, Which bottle? With his pants on, buttoning up an old dress shirt, Paul steps out from the bathroom, Which bottle of wine was it? He says again. Sofia wears a short-cut dress the color of lapis lazuli, Its from Argentina. I think this was a gift from Nina and Ted. Paul says. Is it okay if I open it now? Its been sitting there for two years. Sofia says, holding the bottle, glancing at the label. Sure, just as long as you dont drink the entire bottle tonight. Sweetie pie Ill let you have a glass. Cute. Paul takes his laptop from the messenger bag to the couch and begins searching through reddit.

[40]

Where were you to help me in there, buddy? Paul whispers to Andrei. The dogs ears flick back and forth, he shifts his position on the couch so as to push Paul away from him. Sofia looks for the wine opener on top of the counter, I cant find the bottle opener. Help me find it. Paul turns his head slightly to Sofia, Check in the drawer? Sofia places both hands on the countertop, No, it doesnt seem to be there. Maybe its in the sink Sofia opens a drawer, the wine opener sits above the rest of the silverware. Its not there, I dont know where it is. Sofia unbuttons the top to her dress. The computer has Pauls attention. What? Hold on a second Paul posts a comment to an image of a puppy that is sitting on a kittens head. Afterwards, he closes the computer and arrives next to Sofia. Its right here, on top of all this silverware what are you, blind? Paul looks down into Sofias open cleavage. Look harder next time, says Sofia. She buttons up her top. You go to the gym today? Paul asks. What? Yeah you keeping tabs on me now, or what? Sofia closes the drawer. I just wanted to make sure you were keeping good on your promises. You dont trust me. [41]

I trust you. I didnt make it to the gym today, I wanted at least one of us to have made it. Yeah, I made it your young wife is fit to fuck, baby. Says Sofia, with little to no visible emotion. I love it when you talk dirty let me open this bottle for you. Says Paul excitedly. Paul pops the cork out of the bottle. Sofia says, Thank you. Paul says, My pleasure. Paul stops Sofia before she is to pour herself a glass. Here, allow me. Paul holds Sofias hand against the wine glass as he pours. More. More? Not to the top, damn There. Paul plugs the cork back into the bottle. Perfect. Sofia takes a sip of the red wine. How is it? Mmmm tastes like red wine to me. Whaat? All those classes, and you learned nothing? Scoffs Paul. Im kidding, okay, here Sofia sniffs the wine, berries, grapefruit Sofia swishes the wine in her mouth, gargles it like Listerine, swallows, then consumes three quarters of the glass. its fruity, yet there is a nice woody aftertaste smoky, almost. Not exactly how youre supposed to do it, but it sounds like Nina and Ted have good taste. That they do. Says Sofia. [42]

Mind if I take a sip? Asks Paul. Go for it. Paul takes a swig of the wine, Very nice, very nice. He says. How was your day? Sofia asks. My day was good. Work wasnt shitty for once-- Thats always good. Yeah towards the end of the day I found some time to illustrate the cover album for Jims band. Its not finished yet, but its getting there Sofia finishes the last drop of her glass, and pour herself another. Had lunch with Wayne, he told me about a new project hes been working on with these people out east. Thats cool. What is it? Its an interactive, music website. The firm produces music videos, too, but theyre starting with what bands they have signed. You said they were out east? Asks Sofia. Yeah, New York, but theyre operating out of New Jersey. All the guys are from Indiana, and they want to impress people, I guess. Indiana? Yesthats how Wayne got the job, actually, he knew a couple of them from college. How far did you get with those illustrations? Sofias teeth are already stained a deep maroon.

[43]

I got a good amount done. Carl let me leave early, because there were too many people on the floor. Is that good? Of course its good. I had more time to draw. As long as they dont make you work nights like the last fucking month. That was bullshit. Says Sofia. I had no way of getting out that, sweetie, it was the start of a new season, so a lot of people needed to be trained in But thats not your job. Youre not a trainer. They have other people that can do that, yes? Yes, they do, its also my job to oversee the trainers, and make sure they know what to do everything moves smoother when were all on the same page. But you told Carl no nights, and he gave you more nights. Hes a fucking asshole. There was nothing I could do about the situation If I remember it, you politely asked Carl not to schedule you those nights. No ones going to respect you if you keep letting people walk all over you like that. Listen, no one is walking over me, and in any case, this isnt my job forever. Im not banking on becoming regional manager. This is just a shit job that pays the bills. Thats it. If I appear to give a shit, its because I dont want to get fired, thats all. Paul catches his breath. All right. Says Sofia. Im working on getting more drawings out there, because thats what I want to do. These things take time, you dont seem to understand that, Sofia. I just want to see you put yourself out there more. Youre relying too much on that shit job to keep you afloat. Well that shit job is whats been keeping me and you above water for awhile now [44]

But at a certain point you need to quit it and do what you love. Thats easy for you to sayokay, listen, I dont want this to turn into a fight and that seems to be where this is headed. Sofia drinks the rest of her second glass of wine, Do you want to fuck? That always calms me down, you know. I need to meditate right now. Says Paul. Now? Are you kidding me? Two times a day at twenty minutes each. Have you stopped meditating? I keep up with my yoga. Thats not what Im talking about. Concentrated meditation calms the mind, it makes things clearer, projects outward problems inward, dissects them, embraces, and disintegrated those problems. There are other reasons for meditating, as well theres n way you can solve your problems if you dont face them head on. And you do that with your eyes closed. Says Sofia. Yes what? You need a drink, honey, hold on. Sofia starts to comb through the numerous bottles of liquor. No, I dont need a drink the gin get the gin. Says Paul. I cant find it here Oh, wow, Soph, its right here next to the wine. Thats right I forgot.

[45]

Sofia opens the fridge and takes out a bottle of tonic, and two ice cubes. She pours a drop of the tonic into the lowball glass, drops the two ice cubes in afterwards, and fills the glass to the top with gin. This will calm you down. Sip on that, baby. Sofia hands Paul the drink. Paul empties the glass in two gulps. How do you feel? She asks. Shut up and kiss me. Sofia grabs either side of Pauls face, and plants a heavy, wet kiss on his lips. I reserved a table for us tonight at Dumonts, seven-thirty. Paul says. Aww, thats so romantic. I love you. Sofia etches her lifes passion onto Pauls lips once more. Paul says, I love you. Sofia says, Come, lets watch the sun set. Paul and Sofia sit on the couch. Facing the two windows, they watch the sun disappear beneath the city skyline. The purple sky bursts into an explosion of blues, greens, orange and yellow streaks shimmering and dissipating, red hues flare up from below the horizon before the sky softly edges into darkness. The stars appear and twinkle vividly, as if Van Gogh himself were painting the night for Paul and Sofias eyes alone. Paul asks, What do you want to do this weekend? Sofia answers, Ugh, I still have one more day at the office. I cant think about the weekend right yet. Work stressing you out that much? Yes, but I dont want to talk about it. I dont want to ruin tonight by talking about today. I want to hear about your day. What happened? [46]

Katie and I got into a stupid fight about who is going to take over Victorias work for the day presumably shell be back tomorrow, but we really dont know if anyone is being re-hired. Theres been so much re-shuffling of positions interdepartmentally over the last three weeks A train approaches to drown out Sofias voice. Paul moves in closer, but he can only receive bits of information when strung together only confuse him. Paul nodes his head as Sofia does, and appears to be listening, yet the message is lost under the dominance of the train. The trains noise disappears, and that fucking bitch deserves everything shes got coming to her. I was thinking we could go to my parents cabin this weekend. Really? Oh I would love that. Yes. We can leave any time you want. Its ours for pleasure. We still need to get to Paris, but, hopefully this will Northern Wisconsin can suffice for now, right? Darling, Paris will come all in due time. I would enjoy nothing more than spending the weekend at the Shaft family cabin. Its so beautiful up there this time of year, really it is. Every flower and tree is in full bloom. The river is cool enough to take a dip in Daggar river? Yes you remember! Of course I do, I love that river. Oh, I cannot wait Sofia snuggles up to Paul, Bring us some more of the wine, dear. Were going to miss our reservation. Says Paul. No we wont. I want to sit here for a moment, okay? [47]

Okay. Stars shine like diamonds in the black velvet sky. A meteor burns through the atmosphere, another train passes by in the distance. Andrei snuggles up to Sofia. Dumonts Restaurant: gold and crimson walls; worn-out Persian rugs try to muffle the sound of the creaking floorboards; the tables are circular, the waiters are professionals. Dumonts has a long-standing tradition of providing an elegant dining experience for its customers, supporting the community by serving food grown only from local farmers, and an ever-changing beer list of international acclaim. Paul and Sofia stumble into the dining area. Every consumer has been properly soaked with enough booze to inhibit another bumbling couple. The wait staff can survive, and the customers see Paul and Sofia as a welcomed addition to this refined pot. Dont worry, he seems to be okay right now. Says Paul to Sofia. Hes drunker than we are. She replies. Noo come on, we havent seen him in so many years thisll be fun. I thought he died Stale cigarette butts, eight hours of ashes, lingering, crumbling embers spill onto the floor. Marcus coughs as he trips through the cloud of smoke and ash, Whoops. Sorry about that. Says Marcus. Marcus, theyll clean that up, come on. Paul says hurriedly. There they are, thought I lost them. Marcus scratches his head of stringy, black hair. Take a seat. Marcus sits next to Sofia, across from Paul. Wow I really appreciate you two letting me butt in like this. Im not spoiling your night, am I? [48]

That depends. Says Sofia. No, no, this is cool. We dont mind, Marcus. Paul says. Sofia seems to mind. Do you want me to leave, Sofia? What? No, I was just Marcus, Im tired, its been a long week. So, any discontent you get from me is the cause of pure exhaustion. Please dont take it the wrong way. Unbelievable all right. I hope everythings fine with you both. Sofias job has been very stressful lately. Its only gotten worse this past month, she says. What do you do? Asks Marcus. I help immigrants get their GED, or help them decide which college they want to attend. Its usually a pretty easy job, but this month theres been some managerial shuffling and its like a vice grip on the efficiency of my work. Im having to do three more jobs with all of this disruption, and people getting fired, transfers, re-hirings, theres a lot more paperwork than Im used to, black you dont want to hear about this. I find it interesting what other people occupy their time doing, but that was too much, Sofia. Marcus waits for a reaction before he grins and says, Im just kidding Im fucking kidding, come on. Paul heaves an awkward laugh into the air, We should get some drinks. What do you guys want? Anything strong, no ice. Says Sofia. Okay Marcus? Uh, we dont have a waiter?

[49]

Paul snaps his fingers, Thats right not yet I could just go get some drinks from the bar? Yeah, it is really busy in here. You need a hand? Says Marcus. I think I can manage. What did you want, again? I never said. But Ill have a Moscow Mule, please. All right, Ill be right back. Sofia says, Okay. Paul exits to the bar, moments afterwards a busboy walks up to the table to fill Sofia and Marcus water glasses. You can fill this glass, he just went to the bar. Marcus says to the busboy. He fills Pauls water glass and leaves. You look beautiful, Sofia. Hmm? Oh thank you. You look debonair Still careful with your words, I bet he taught you some new ones, too. Shut the fuck up, Mark. What? Says Marcus, laughing, he takes a sip of his water. What are you doing here? Says Sofia. In Chicago? I thought you said you were in Austria, or something. Paris, actually, and I came back. I thought you had family over there. Shouldnt you be with your family? I dont want to start this right now, okay?

[50]

You stopped writing me, you never answered my phone calls I get word that youve married, have kids, and moved into a house in Estonia? Youre a fucking douchebag. Baby, you dont know half of whats happened in my life. And its France, not Estonia. Are you going to tell me about it? Probably No, youre going to fucking tell it to me now. Now. Sofia moves her stone head, yes. Wearing all black, a smirk on his emaciated face, Bernard appears at the table. Welcome to Dumonts. Is this your first time dining with us this evening? Neither Marcus or Sofia answer the man, they are pre-occupied: staring each other down reading each others minds, waiting for the other to crack. Hello? I should come back Says Bernard. Paul steps in, carrying three drinks with both hands, Oh there you are sorry I couldnt wait went to the bar for our drinks, he says to Bernard. Thats okay. I told the bartender to put the drinks on this tab. Thats okay, right? Yes, thats just fine. Great. Bernard places three menus on the table, Can I start you off tonight with any appetizers? You want some apps, honey? [51]

Sofia is broken from her trance, her eyes dart over to Paul, Yes what do you want? I dont know, Ive heard the mussels are pretty good here. The mussels are delicious, always fresh. Says Bernard. Spectacular. That sound food to you? Paul asks Sofia. Mussels! Perfect. Says Marcus. Wonderful, dear. Remarks Sofia. A plate of mussels. Paul orders to Bernard. Great. And can we get some bread, too? Of course. Great, thanks. Bernard leaves, Paul raises his glass, Well, Marcus, heres to you. Its been far too long since weve seen you. Youre too kind, Paul, thank you. Marcus says as he clinks glasses with Paul and Sofia. How long has it been? Five years ? No, not that long. Really? Marcus says, in disbelief. I think the last time we all were together was at the reunion, and that was five years ago yeah. Damn, man, what have you been up to? What brings you to Chicago? Aahh, time to catch up. Says Marcus, under his breath, somewhat reluctantly. Yeah, tell us what youve been doing, Marcus. Sofia sucks on a piece of ice before cracking in between her molars. [52]

Ive travelled. Still trekking over the globe, eh? Says Paul. Yes sir. Still havent made it to India, but Ill be there soon enough. You say that as if its some weekend getaway, geez. Could be, I only need to give myself the assignment to do so, and Im there. Remarkable, I wish I had the kind of job that allowed such frivolity. Theres nothing frivolous about what I do. Says Marcus defensively. Okay I didnt mean to offend you, Marcus SO where have you been all of these years? Marcus takes a sip from his drink, From where we last left off, Argentina, he scratches his nose, then the back of his skull, he takes another pull of his drink, I got stuck in Argentina, well, a small village, actually God, Id love to get stuck in Argentina, wow. Says Paul. I know, you make it sound so terrible. Says Sofia. I was only in Argentina by accident or not the verdicts still undecided on that one. I was on my way someplace else, when the engine malfunctioned and we needed to make an emergency landing. It was this small village, Ural, we landed in, and the people there were so nice, and inviting. While the airplane was being fixed, I wandered through the village square. I found myself in a bar, drinking a beer, when a quarrel broke out between two men. They didnt seem to pose any threat, considering they were too drunk to stand up without the help of a crowd which quickly formed around them. As it turned out, the two men had been playing cards and drinking the last twelve hours and even in that state, where you would think exhaustion would step in and stop them from fighting they nearly killed each other. [53]

What were they fighting about? Paul asks. A woman. Oh She was the daughter of one of the men fighting. The other man, no one really liked him, not only because he was from the other village, but because he had been having an affair with this mans daughter. All the while, his wife is sick and dying of cancer in her home, alone. Apparently, the father wanted to teach this man who was, by the way, the same age as him, 50s Id say a lesson. I think he wanted to kill him for fucking his 20-year old daughter, but thats not how it was told to me. Anyway, the fight grew out of control, it enveloped the entire place I threw a couple of punches only to defend myself before I fell into the street and was hit by a motorcycle. Oh my god. Were you okay? Says Sofia. Broke my leg, but it healed. I still limp some, but its not as bad as it used to be. The hot weather took away the pain, I cant stand the cold. I stayed in the village for ten months, I liked it so much; women of that area are kind to broken men. Im sorry we lost touch, did you ever make it to where you were originally headed? Asks Paul. Yeah, eventually. Dont worry about not keeping in touch. I didnt let anyone know I was down there, and since no one tried to contact me, it all figured right. Were glad youre here now, Marcus. Sofia rolls her eyes in reaction to Paul. The busboy drops off a bread basket onto the table. Thanks, Paul. Says Marcus. Paul breaks the bread, places a slice of butter on the piece, and passes the basket to Sofia. [54]

So you were nurtured back to health, and then what? You came home? No, Paul, I didnt make it home. After Ural I went to Brasil, which was where I was headed to in the first place. What was in Brasil? Brasil, let me try and remember ah yeas there was a beach, many, to be precise, forests women walking naked through my apartment, but what was it I went there for? Stop it, Im serious. I needed to pick up a guitar. A guitar? Says Sofia. Yeah. Says Marcus. And ? Is that it? A guitar? Paul asks. Like I said, yeah. You went all the way to Brasil for a guitar? Are you fucking kidding me? Says Sofia. Im not kidding you. Youre crazy. Someone was holding it for me, Id left it there the year before. Couldnt you have had it shipped to you instead? Asks Paul. I guess so, that thought never crossed my mind. I would have saved on expenses, too. Yeah. I suppose I wanted to see the country again. Theres nothing like it. I bet. Lots of supermodels are discovered down there. Says Sofia. [55]

Yes, there are more than plenty of beautiful women down there all willing. He says, with a Cheshire grin. Ha! You sly rascal. Says Paul. As Marcus takes another swig from his drink, Paul says, I remember when I we saw you last, you mentioned interest in serving the Peace corps. Whatever came of that? No uhm, no, after Brasil, when I got my guitar, I did make it back to the states. I didnt stay very long. I couldnt stand the political climate: what with the teabaggers, and the derision between the left and the right. It was so ridiculous, it was just too much for me. No. Sofia says. Those fucking teabaggers, they were assholes, for sure. Paul says. Yeah, I bet your guys are glad theyre gone. Most certainly are. Yeah, so, I had forgotten about the Peace corps, Paul, good memory, but I never hooked up with them. Since I was itching to get out of the country again, I messaged some friends I knew in Amsterdam, and I went over there. Id really like to go to Amsterdam sometime. Sofia says. Really? Remarks Paul. Yeah, why not? I dont know, I never thought you were the type to find that place interesting. Its Amsterdam, dude Sofia mimics smoking a joint with her fore finger and thumb. Okay

[56]

Its not the dope that should draw you to the Netherlands, dont live with the impression that thats all Amsterdam is worth. Too many Americans consider Amsterdam worthwhile only for their views on Marijuana and prostitution and let me reassure you those are only two reasons of many to visit the motherland. Really? Says Paul. The tulips are something else, in the spring time. The air is very clean. The clouds appear so low that you could reach out and touch them. Marcus chooses his words carefully, and it seems as though he running out of steam, so to speak, to imbue any kind of passionate truth to what he speaks. I mean Ive had my party days, staying up for days on end stoned out of my mind, trippin on psychedelic mushrooms every other weekend and its not all that its cracked up to be. Granted, I was younger when I did all this, and I couldnt had a similar experience in the states, as well. No, I wouldnt recommend visiting Amsterdam just for the legal pot, and the luscious, kind, open, European women. No. Uh huh, right. Paul says knowingly. Theres the tulips in the spring, cant forget about that. Says Sofia. Exactly. Steamed mussels. The food runner says as he arrives quickly at the table. Excellent. Says Paul. Thank you. Says Sofia, to the food runner. Youre welcome, and enjoy, he says before leaving. Everyone takes from the platter, and begin to consume the mussels. Sofia takes timid bites, Paul blows off the steam before cautiously biting in, Marcus wedges the mussels into a piece of bread, and dips it into olive oil before eating.

[57]

To Sofia and Marcus, Paul asks, Good? Sofia, with her mouth stuffed, moans satisfaction. Marcus nods his head, yes, this is good food. How long were you in Amsterdam, Marcus? Asks Paul. Two years. He says. You liked it there? Sofia asks. Why stay there otherwise? Right. Your friends what did you do there? Asks Paul, through a mouthful of steam. My contacts, Jan and Nellij, they happened to be out of the country the entire time I was there, actually. I watched over their house. For two years? Paul says, surprised. I had no idea how long I was going to stay there when I first landed. At first they were going to be gone for a month, that would give me time to find a job by the time they returned they were on vacation in Algiers. On their trip, they met a couple from Greece who invited them to come back with them so they did. After two weeks, Jan and Nellij liked Crete so much they decided to stay indefinitely. Just my luck. Didnt they have jobs to go back to? Asks Sofia. They were at a point where retirement was not so far off, that they could have called it in early you know what I mean? Lucky. Well, they earned it, thats all I can say about that. What did they do in Greece? [58]

Yeah, they retired there, honey. Says Paul. They kept themselves busy, too. Still needed to be productive, I guess. Jan spun clay pots and sculptures, Nellij made quilts. What happened to their house? Did they kick you out? Asks Sofia. Jan told me I could keep the house, so as long as I kept it open for relatives, or if they ever decided to make it back. Did they ever make it back during the two years? Asks Paul. No. Never made it back for any of their stuff. They had it sent away, and I rented out the place to anyone looking for a nice room to stay was cheap. So thats how you made your income? Paul says. Yeah, money ran out sooner than later had to find a way to survive. How did you survive? I mean, what did you do? Says Sofia. Marcus takes in a deep breath, Got married, divorced, arrested, spent 90 days in jail, sold the house to the business next door, took a train to Paris. Holy shit. Says Paul. The last five years of my life have been marked by a consistent unsteadiness. Not one year has gone by where dramatic changes havent occurred. Chaos has been commonplace. Thats interesting. Says Sofia. I can understand that, Marcus. Nothing is ever really certain, is it? What do you mean? Sofias brow furrows, her toes curl up with tension. I mean, theres not a whole lot thats certain in life, um, other than death. Love? Marriage out marriage isnt certain? Dont you think certain things are certain in life? Says Sofia, her voice now peaking at the end of every sentence. [59]

Our marriage is certain, because weve both made a bond with each other that says it will be forever or at least until we die. So why were you saying our life was uncertain? I wasnt saying our life was uncertain, I was speaking in general terms Marcus interrupts, What I think Pauls trying to say is that life, no matter whos, is uncertain. No one is guaranteed another day, yet here we are enjoying each others company something that is certain. Ive been moving around, never having an idea of where I would end up next. You two have each other, and youre making a life concrete. You want a steady life. Yeah. Agrees Paul. What if I dont want certainty? What if I want to be impulsive? Says Sofia. Paul leans over to Sofia, and in a hush tone says, Stop it. Youre drunk and you are being obnoxious. Loudly, Sofia says, I am not drunk. Im Irish, I dont get drunk. I need another drink. Sofia rattles her empty glass above her head, This fucking waiter isnt coming fast enough Ill get the drink myself god dammit. Paul reaches out for her as she leaves the table, Sofia Sorry about that. He says to Marcus. Dont apologize for her. Bernard steps up to the table, I saw the lady was there anything anyone needed? My wife went to the bar. Says Paul, without making eye contact with the waiter. So would you like to wait to order until she comes back? Says Bernard. [60]

Yeah, come back in a little while, if you wouldnt mind. Sure, I can refill your drink for you. Great. Marcus, you want another? Gin and tonic. Says Marcus. And what type of wine were you enjoying, sir? Paul hesitates, Ill take a beer this time. I think I saw you had Life Bridge on tap. That we do. Ill have a pint of that. Fantastic, Ill be back with your drinks shortly. Bernard exits with the empties in hand. Ill just nosh on the rest of these mussels, Paul, Im not too hungry. Are you sure? Weve still got some time, their burgers are delicious. Naw, Ill be fine with the drinks. Paul wipes the perspiring drops off the water glass, he tears on the damp napkin. Where the hell is she? Looks like shes made friends with some people at the bar. Says Marcus. Paul turns around in his seat, he grits his teeth, grinds his eyebrows, God dammit, he says, before walking briskly to the bar. Marcus takes whats left of his water down the gullet. He plugs an unfiltered cigarette into his mouth, and lights up with the candle from an adjacent table. Thanks, he says to the startled party, Our light went out. Dragging Sofia behind him, Paul returns to the table.

[61]

I was only making conversation, she says. I was going to get our drink next. We wouldnt have had to pay for it. Paul throws Sofia into her chair, he sits down in his. A woman should know how to get herself free drinks through simple intuition. Says Sofia. Would that have been before, or after, they had gang raped you? Id let you watch, ha, ha. Real nice, dear, youre too cute. Marcus leans over to Sofia, Maybe you should hold off on the drinks now. Fuck off, I know my limit I can hold my liquor. And wheres your drink? Why am I I shouldnt be the only one drinking here. Wheres our fucking waiter? Im hunngree. Sofia slumps down in her chair. Paul says, He went for refills. You want to eat? Lets split something. Okay. To Marcus, Sofia says, Ooh, I didnt know you could smoke in here. No ones stopped me yet. He says. Would you happen to have another one of those for me, dear? Paul? She can do whatever she wants. He says. I dont need his approval. Gimme a smoke. Marcus gives Sofia a cigarette, I misplaced my light, he says. Sofia removes Marcus cigarette from his mouth to light hers. She stares into his eyes as she inhales, puffs, exhales the two ends igniting in a mutual fire. [62]

A little she still strove, and much repented, And whispering, I will neer consent consented. Quotes Marcus. Thank you. Says Sofia. Youre welcome. Calming down somewhat, Sofia moves from her slumped position into a more comfortable angle. She takes another pull from her drink, and follows with a long drag on the smoke. This is exactly what I need right now. Where were we? Where were we? Says Marcus. Sofia says, You were in France. Right, I moved to Paris after Amsterdam. Why Paris? It seemed like the place to be at the time still is, too. And thats where you met your second wife? Sofia says, as she blows a torrent of smoke at Marcus. Yes, thats where I met my second wife Paul cocks his head slightly, questioning the nature of Sofias knowledge. Bernard interrupts the moment, Anyone hungry? He says. Yeah, great, we want to split something. Whats good for two plates? Paul asks. Our salads are quite large. Says Bernard. I want pizza! Exclaims Sofia. [63]

We do have woodfire baked pizzas. Perfect size for two people. Perfect. Says Paul. I want: black olives, artichoke hearts, and sausage. HmmmmMmmm. Sofia drops her cigarette in her water glass. Can we do that? Paul says to Bernard. Certainly, he says, are we still good over here? Still waiting on my drink. Says Marcus. Theyll be up shortly, thanks for waiting. All right. Putting on a congenial smile, Bernard turns and leaves for the kitchen. Now weve got some food comin, honey. Paul says to Sofia. Mmmmm, I love it. I love you, dahling. Reaching over the table, Sofia grabs Pauls face and plants a big, wet, sloppy, drunken kisson his face not anywhere near his lips = just all over, as if shes eating corn on the cob. I love you, too. Says Paul, wiping off his face. Sitting down in her chair, Sofia clutches Marcus inner thigh beneath the tablecloth. So, Marcus, how did you find your way back to the states? Is there a conference or something youre going to? Paul says, with no real interest in his tone. No, nothing like that, Paul Im here because of family. Oh, I hope its nothing bad. Why do you say that? Says Sofia. Sofia [64]

Actually, my mother recently passed. Thats why Im here. Says Marcus. Sofia gasps, and after removing her hand from over her mouth, sighs, Nooo in a gentle, sorrow tone. Yeah, she had a stroke a week ago two days later she was gone. Oh my god, Marcus, Im so sorry, Paul says, Is there anything we can do for you? Thank you, no, Ill be fine. Well be fine. He says, with his head hung down, his eyes inspecting the empty water glass. Sofia begins to rub Marcus shoulders. How old was she? She asks. She was sixty-four. Still so young. Says Paul. Yeah. Im sorry, dear. This must be a terrible time for you. Says Sofia. Paul leans in closer, he clasps his hands together, How is the rest of your family coping? Naturally theyre devastated. No one saw this coming she was healthy, didnt smoke never smoked no family history of high blood pressure, she exercised every day Marcus notices their waiter standing by the bar. Bernard laughs at something the bartender says to him, gently placing his hand on top of the bartenders the two exchange a glance. This has been a weird week, to say the least Tell me about it. Says Sofia.

[65]

Bernard arrives at the table with their drinks: Lift Bridge for Paul, gin and tonic for Marcus. After Bernard leaves, Marcus continues talking, Two days after my mother died, my father came out of the closet, told everyone he was gay. Wow thats Paul cant seem to find the words. Really? Are you for real? Sofia says, her arms crossed over her chest. Yeah my fathers a homosexual. It doesnt bother me, really. Its just strange, you know? I can only imagine. One shock after another like that. It would take me time to cope and understand. Says Paul. Right, and why he chose to tell the family so soon after his wife death that was selfish. It drew attention away from my moms life. Why didnt he wait for awhile? He said he wanted to tell me face to face, he didnt want to have to call me long distance and say it over the phone. Even so, he shouldve told only me, if thats how he wanted it handled, and not the entire family I dont know I wish hed have waited. Im sorry, Marcus. Says Sofia. Thanks, Sofia. He says. Imwere here for you. If theres anything you need, dont hesitate. I appreciate that. Marcus takes a pull on his drink. How long are you staying in town for? Asks Paul. Im leaving Saturday morning. We should all do something in town before you leave. Yeah! Says Sofia.

[66]

I think Im going to lay low while Im here. Spend my time in bars before I have to leave. Says Marcus as he takes another pull. No, thats not going to happen. Thats depressing. Where are you staying? Asks Paul. The Drake Hotel. Were going to come over tomorrow, and were going to make a day of it. Visit the museums, go to the park, theres this street festival happening downtown tomorrow night it would be so much fun. Paul says through a series of over-exaggerated hand gestures. Tomorrows Friday. What about your jobs? Says Marcus. Well take the day off. I need a day off. Says Sofia. Its best to be around friends at a time like this, Paul says reassuringly, You can be around family for only so long. You shouldnt be alone right now, Marcus. Didnt your wife come over? Sofia says. No, I asked Olive to stay there. It wouldve been too much for her considering shes never met my parents, it would have been Marcus trails off, I should call her. Do you mind? By all means, go call her. Says Paul. Olive. Says Sofia. Olive is short for Olivia. Marcus says. Were still waiting for our food. Well be here. Paul says. Okay, Ill be right back. Marcus takes a cigarette with him, and places it behind his left ear, as he walks towards the front entrance. Thats a sad story. Says Sofia.

[67]

It is says Paul, How did you know he had a wife in Paris? Did you see him when you were over there? What? Says Sofia. No. Did he mention he had a wife earlier, and did I just not hear it? I thought he did, I remember. Yeah. Huh I dont. What difference does it make? None, I guess. Paul looks past Sofia, obviously caught in some train of thought. Sofia steals another cigarette from Marcus pack, plugs it in her mouth and uses a tiny Bic lighter to ignite it. I thought you quit. Just let me fucking enjoy this now. Marcus returns, How is she? Asks Paul. Its morning there, shes making the kids breakfast before school. Shes good. How are you? Asks Sofia. Im hungry now. He replies. Get the waiters attention, Paul. Thats what Im doing. Paul flags down the waiter, Yes, sir? Says Bernard. The man wants something to eat now. Okay. [68]

Can I get a cheeseburger? Says Marcus. Sure. What kind of cheese would you like on it? Brie. We can do that. How would you like your burger cooked? Medium but I want some pink there, too. No problem, sir. Would the table like both meals to arrive at the same time? I dont mind, I can wait. Are you sure? Says Paul. Go ahead and eat. Ill probably steal a slice or two, anyways. A ha. Paul looks at Bernard, Its no problem, he says. Naw, youll probably keep the pizza under a hot lamp, right? Says Paul. I know the pizza isnt finished yet. Says Bernard. Wanting to end it, Its fine, says Marcus, Bring the pizza out first, just put that cheeseburger on the grill. You got it. Bernard leaves, Good, says Marcus. Is that okay? I dont mind. I ran into you two tonight. Im sure I ruined your evening with my terrible exploits. Was this a date, or some other special occasion Ive wrecked? Like an anniversary or something? Shut up, Mark, were happy to have you with us. Says Sofia. Yeah, I bet [69]

Im going to use the restroom. Paul exits to the restroom, across the dining hall. Sofia turns to Marcus, How come you stopped writing me? Im married now, Ive got a wife and two daughters. It didnt seem couth. So what was Amsterdam? Did you forget about that, too? Whos to say Paris isnt just like that was? Amsterdam was different, sweetheart. How was it different? I didnt know what I wanted then, I was young and stupid. We had fun Fuck you. Youre telling me you know what you want now with whats her name, Susan? Olivia. I have more with her than I ever had with you. Get used to it. So Marcus is all settled down now. She says. Yeah. He says. You wouldnt want to replay old movies, would you? You still like to have fun, yes? Sofia grabs Marcus crotch, he doesnt flinch. Its over, Sofia. I thought you would have figured that out by now. Shit Pauls a great guy, you shouldnt cheat on him. Unless you already have. Pauls oblivious. Hes not like you, hes no fun. Forget it. I can see someone doesnt agree with you. Sofia says as she grabs onto Marcus bulging erection. Sofia dont. You need company in your time of mourning. [70]

Pauls going to come back any second. She places his hand on her thigh, moving up her skirt, and into her moist cunt. Nobody gets me wet like you, Mark. Marcus slides the first four fingers in, You leave for the bathroom, I say Olives called me again. We meet in between. Says Marcus. Okay, she says, licking her lips, biting her lower lip, and closing her eyes. Marcus pulls out and sucks his fingers, takes the last of the remaining mussels, then continues to lick the excess juices from the meal. Sofia places her hands on top of the table just as Paul arrives. Paul sits down, he smiles at Sofia, then takes a drink of his beer. This beer is good. He says. What are you drinking? Asks Marcus. Life Bridge, its really wheaty, tastes almost like blueberries. Nice. Im more attracted to the hoppy beers, myself, but a wheaty every once and awhile is solid. Yeah, Im not that much of a beer drinker I have to use the ladies room. Interrupts Sofia. Our foods going to be here soon. Says Paul to Sofia. She stands up, I wont be long. All right. Dont be. Sofia leaves. So hows your dad through all this? Oh Im sure hell be fine wait Marcus pocket cellular phone is ringing, thats Olive. I need to take this. [71]

Sure. Marcus leaves. The food runner arrives at the table, Our hearth-baked pizza, with black olives, artichoke hearts, and chorizo sausage. Enjoy your meal. Thank you. The food runner leaves. Oh wait Paul holds up his empty glass of beer, the food runner has disappeared. Paul places the glass onto the table, and begins to cut a slice of the pizza for himself. He consumes the first bite with trepidation, as he can see the pronounced steam rising from the square-cut piece. Paul forgoes the niceties with the second bite, folds the slice in half, and as he is close to chomping into the food, he is burned by the hot grease which has been accumulating near the crust. Ow.

We found an extra microphone, everyone, the show can go on. Says the emcee to the poetry audience. All right, Sam, you ready? The obscure shadow of a man off-stage nods his head, yes. Okay. Dames en Heren, after a minor delay thanks in part to Mister Hanoi the open mic night will continue. And next we have a regular of these events, a good friend of mine, youll like him, Im sure, give it up for Sam Watson. The audience gives Sam their respect as he enters the light. Good evening everyone. This is a short poem I wrote usually my poems are much longer, but I thought I would keep this one short and sweet, for a change. You and I. I can go back to a moment I am certain [72]

was the beginning. This moment is the purest memory that I have of you. Whenever this seems like it wont work out, I recall that moment as the raw spark lights a fire to help a village see in times of darkness. Empty Space for Rent A short trip from Schiphol airport, Ed arrived in Amsterdam by way of train. Ed was here on business, and he had never been to Europe prior to this day. Ed was not a world-class guy by any means, and although he communicated with international clients, he had hardly ventured out of the city since he was a teenager. Ed was not against travel, it was simply never on his mind. He believed there was still so much more to discover in his citys back yard that global exploration was never on his agenda. In any case, Ed was here in Amsterdam on business. Arriving in the afternoon, Ed was greeted by the tail end of a light rain shower. Leaving Centraal Station, he hailed a cab and got in. The inside of the car smelled of bodies and mint and pine and hemp. Ed noticed the superfluous bicycles outside, and remembered what his travel book said about Amsterdammers and their bicycles. If you want to blend in, pick up a bicycle and do as the Dutch do cycle the city!

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Ed arrived at his hotel and checked in. He packed light, bringing only one bag, so the bellhops help really wasnt necessary. Before the bellhop left, Ed asked him if he knew of a place where a man might be able to relax. The bellhop pointed to the Jacuzzi in the other room, and exited the floor. Ed surveyed the room, he turned on all the lights but one there was one fixture above the bathroom entrance that had no switch. The light was in an odd place, there was no purpose for it being above the bathroom door. There was a lamp on a table beside the entrance, plus there was a switch outside of the bathroom for the inside. The odd light served no other purpose than being a mistake, a last minute mishap some worker made in the rush to finish the building on time. Ed unpacked his suitcase onto the bed, took a shower, dressed in his only casual clothes, and walked down to the lobby. Business would not be until tomorrow morning, so Ed decided to take in some scenery while he had time. Someone in the Centraal Station handed Ed a flyer for the more typical tourist attractions of Amsterdam: Madame Tussauds, The Torture Museum, The Tulip Museum, The Ice Bar, Ajax Experience, Heineken Experience, Canal Tours. Ed asked the desk clerk where Madame Tussauds was located. As Ed walked down the Damrak, he stopped in a store and purchased a bottle of water, an orange t-shirt that had the countrys namesake printed in black ink on it, and a chocolate candy bar. Continuing down the Damrak, Ed noticed the variety of people he was walking beside and wondered to what destination today took them. Without looking ahead, Ed bumped into a persons backpack. Oh, Im sorry. Said Ed. The man with the backpack turned around and spoke with an Australian accent, No worries. The crowd had stopped moving. This wasnt a bottleneck in traffic, the flow of foot traffic had halted completely. Ed could barely see over the heads of the crowd to see what was happening ahead, so he strayed aside to a spot where there was a visible vantage point. [74]

A section of the street had been blocked off with police tape. There was a white van parked near the edge of the sidewalk, and police officers were stationed in all corners of the quarantined area. Whats happening? Someone said to Ed. I dont know. He said, Something official, it looks like. Oh. A robot was sent into a building to defuse a bomb. The crowd watched with intense anticipation. Ed decided to leave, his destination was only just beyond the taped off area: an area now dangerous, suspect, and blocked off at every angle. Feeling defeated, Ed turned back from where he was and decided to head to the hotel. It wasnt long before his decision would be considered, in hindsight, a bad one. Ed stepped into the Febo and bought a kip burger. After he took his first bite, the entire room erupted in a gas ball of fire. Five people perished in the explosion, the cause of an undocumented gas leak. The storefront has been refurbished, its still vacant.

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I Work the Weekends I sat outside and looked in through the front glass windows. Standing at the back of the restaurant was a blonde woman. She stood underneath rows and columns of goblets and chalices, a variety of sizes intended for beer. Light filtered through this wall of glass and fell over her bangs. I could not see her eyes, only her tits, so I walked in to find the place was full and I had either to wait outside for a table, or sit at one of the wet ones. I was perfectly okay sitting outside, as the weather had cleared from a morning rainfall to an early afternoon cool, cloud-free breeze. I ordered a pot of tea, and waited in silence. My name is Yves Waterstones. My mother was French, and my father was British. I am 32 years old, and carry some of the better traits from each side: 61, I have practiced cycling the entirety of my life, which is the cause of this strong, albeit lanky, figure of mine. Black hair that always seems to gleam with oil, like that of a ravens back, flops around on top of my skull. I dont need to comb my hair, for it naturally falls into place exactly how I had intended it, through all of its stages of messiness. Brown eyes, it seems, is a recessive trait. I enjoy a good smoke, but only after coffee. I stopped drinking beer when I turned 28, bourbon and cognac are my vices now (and the occasional spliff). My lungs can handle the occasional smoke, my knees are greased chains of perfection in spite of their odd appearance. Women always commented on how rough my hands were before those same hands drove all over their bodies making and bursting away calluses are a favorite pastime of mine. I speak French, English, Spanish, Italian all fluently and I am somewhat familiar in Greek, Dutch, and German. Growing up in a house where both parents spoke through a myriad of obscure and sexually oblique metaphors was like a game of catch, with screams and yelling instead of a ball and mitt. A smattering of these references became useful in the future: when I was a teenager, I threw many pots of clay into disarray through anger and frustration. Not one of my peers would validate me, they all thought I was too strange to understand them. Some girls liked how odd it was that they couldnt understand me, it was like petting a foreign tape fence they werent allowed to stroke.

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English Melange arrived and I poured myself a cup. A few leaves fell through the filter, a brief wind came to pick up a scent from down the street. I smelled orange, and saw eyes instead. Despite an odd and peculiar upbringing, my health is superb, once I stopped looking for cracks in my bones the pain stopped its torrential spasms. When I did glance to see eyes once again, orange strands of hair moved like falling curtains over blue ovals, those green irises. Would you like to order any food? Breakfast, perhaps? The young waitress asked. I didnt order? Unless Marta got your order then no. Who is Marta? She pointed inside the restaurant to Marta, the blonde girl was taking an order for a table of four people. Oh, no she never took my order. All right. Now that we have that covered, would you like to order food? Yes. I liked this city, its cobblestone streets, quaint houses, and smoky air was refreshing. Being so close to the river, and surrounded by multiple canals, if one scent were too pungent to handle, a breeze would briskly send it away. On the other hand if one were to step into a hazy cloud before losing ones train of thought, the location of said smell (hazy, green, significantly more inviting than piss and beer) would be closer than anticipated. The smell lures you in, and the fire keeps you warm. When the check arrived and the waitress left, I realized I had forgotten my cash in a rolled-up sack on top of my drawer at my apartment three minutes away. Mechanically readjusting my posture, I sat facing the back of a man wearing a black leather coat. The coat had an embroidered image of a human skull set aflame surrounded by horizontal bars made from [77]

barbed wire fence. A once powerful image now reminded me that whoever wore a jacket or any garment signifying a hellish picture stitched in hell was merely hiding underneath it, and the true character of a man was shown only in his actions. Without so much of a moments notice, I could take this plate and bash it over the mans head, stunning him. Then Id stab this knife into his neck, a junction with less muscle, more veins to puncture. Id have to grab his head, though, by his hair looks clean and would pose no problem in gripping it jerk the head back, and stab repeatedly. If the knife broke, which would be highly unlikely, but could happen, then Id take whatever bit was left, and puncture his ear. Im not a superstitious man, so images are not influential, other than to inform me where I can take a shit and piss.

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Music For Change A dull, light rain kept most people underneath the awnings of side step restaurants on Kalverstraat. I walked through the rain, because I had no destination in mind, and this rainfall plus the company it brought was my attraction for the day. Those unprepared for the rain reluctantly got wet, for as much as they wished to stay inside they had to leave sooner or later. I thought about buying a liter of milk, instead opting for fresh orange juice. I chased two pigeons out of an elevator, yet they continued their persistence and remained inside the building. Walking past an H&M, I thought to myself, if I bought those kinds of pants, and wore them with that shirt the dummy in the window display was wearing I would look like everyone else. I saw a rat climb up from the drains and scurry into a hold in the back of a trash bin, no one noticed. I stood next in line with the pants and shirt in my hands, but someone cut in front of me. If I were Italian, I sure would also look Italian. A security guard followed me out of the store, and one block down from the entrance, I crossed another street. I escaped into an alley, and ate a broodje of fried egg and bacon. A black cat skinny, light, focused walked underneath my chair. I tried to call to the cat, so I could pet it, but it ignored me. The security guard caught up with me and questioned me, accusing me of stealing clothes from the department store. He asked to search through my bag, and I said, no. Utterly convinced I was guilty, he forcefully opened my bag only to find a raincoat, two books, and thirty ballpoint pens.

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They Live to Kill Once I tried to fly. I broke a rib on the landing. Undeterred, I tried again once my rib healed, and my body was in prime condition. I missed the landing spot. I was distracted while in mid-flight, by a jagged vision: I was overcome with confusion, curiosity, and contempt, years worth of insight within ten seconds. I landed on my back, and broke my leg. In the bed at the hospital, I read many books trying to look for answers to that bizarre vision of mine. I telephoned friends of mine, but they did not have the answers. Any clue became a mystery, and I took a post as detective to solve these mysteries. Soon, I had forgotten my dreams of flying. The search to an answer pre-occupied all my time. The reminders of my injuries were present on my body as scars. The scars caused me a great deal of problems, not only physically, but emotionally, as well. When I was intimate with women, the subject of my scars was inevitable, and too often derailed love-making. More often than not my nights ended in tears. The scars grew over the years, as it happened, and prohibited me from joining any kind of recreational team. As much as I tried to fit in, my sensitive bones refused to conform to becoming the butt of jokes and jibes.

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