Chapter 27 - Art and Science I
Time has a remarkable property. Its unstoppable. I was fascinated with my first drivers license. I misplaced my first photo ID, and had to go and get a reprint issued. Naturally the form arrives, and I go and get my new photo and ID. Then, I later on found my original. It had fallen down the back of my sock drawer, and was sticking up by the corner down in the tiny gap where the floor met the wall of that drawer inside.
I laid them side by side, and sort of marveled at it. The look on my face was different. I was something like 20 months older. Differences in hair and facial hair. I started keeping all my ID's. When I got new ones, the old ones went with my growing collection. College IDs, work IDs. I would always claim to have misplaced one now and again, and get the new one. Creating more for my collection.
I can't tell you why. This is just one of my little quirks. I've been telling you off and on, mentioning it for how many pages now? I'm eccentric. My chosen word, you can use what term you like. Crazy, different, weird, strange, bizarre. I have actual friends that use the term... bat shit crazy? But, they use it with love when they deliver the term with a smile.
As a kid, I would become inordinately fascinated with little objects. A lone marble, a real glass cat's eye from a bygone era. Discovered digging in dirt? I carefully cleaned it off, and sat and marveled at it. I had a shoe box in my dresser in my room that held these little treasure.
A couple foreign coins. If I found one of those tokens for anything? Parking coins, old fashioned bus coin tokens, anything like that. A little rock that was somehow interesting. There's a glass factory near where I grew up, and people fish behind it off of a trail to the shoreline. There's a little garbage dump of chunks of glass. Different colors, some interesting translucent colored ones. My mom and dad rolled their eyes, and had to limit my acquisitions.
I could have one for each hand, every time we went there for my dad to take his little kid fishing. My dad joked that I was more interested in the glass dump, than catching a fish. If it took more than fifteen minutes between nibbles? I would wander back to ostensibly take a pee, but my dad smiled. He knew. I was sneaking looks at what new chunks of glass had been tossed.
Older, I discovered those were the experiments. Customers wanted large pallets that were stacked bricks of special glass, for special orders. Artistic endeavors. A man who had worked there, was able to tell me what the colors were made from that I liked. My favorites were the brilliant translucent blues, with as few inclusions and little bubbles as possible. Some other brilliant translucent colors as well, but the piercing blues you could see through were my absolute favorites.
She had those brilliant cobalt blue translucent eyes for a pupil color. On a whim one time staying over at her thrashed mobile home, I had brought a lens. Giggling, she let me study her eyes close up. I got the view a little gnat got, about to fly into her eye. I marveled at the brilliant cobalt blue, then up close like that noticed the rest.
The flecks of color that came and went as her eyes changed from amount of ambient light or sexual excitement. The little outlines of other color that came and went. In time to the expansion or contraction of the pupil. The three dimensional aspect of being right up on the eye like that. You could detect depth and thickness changing. See the striations and bundles of what looked like a weightlifter's muscles.
She just laid there. Pretty eyes open, wistful little smile composed of not much more than a little curl at the corner of one lip. Soft hair in disarray around her head on the big pillow. When I was finally done, she smiled a little more. I talked about all what I found and saw, up close like that. With effort, I got some cell phone pictures snapped. High resolution images of this insane close up of her eyes.
"Mind if I make an observation, Sike."
"Do I ever seem to really mind."
"You, say everything... in words, phrases. Always starts or eventually ends up? Some kind of... scientific observation."
"Okay."
"I don't mean anything bad, but... just pointing out to you. I think you spent, maybe fifteen or twenty minutes? Just staring into my eyes. Then, god, what. The next half hour and maybe a little more? I feel like... I'm at some eye doctor. Getting ready for eye surgery. Or, I'm being studied in some biology lab."
"Hey. If I ever make you uncomfortable, just being weird like that? Say something."
She gave that tinkling glass bell laugh I covet so much.
"Uncomfortable? If you were making me uncomfortable, I'd have told you to quit. Are you tied up, being taught never to do that again?"
"Uh, no. I guess I better not do that again. Sorry."
Another explosion of tinkling laughter.
"Its fine. I liked it. Wasn't my point."
"What was the point, then. Sometimes I miss it."
The eyes, the little grin, the hair around the pillow. Intoxicating.
"You spent about an hour? Staring into my eyes. You see everything as all scientific, and you're right, but... to me?"
"Yeah."
"You got lost in my eyes. And you lost track of time, doing it."
I nodded. I guess that was true. I got quiet. I do that a lot, it doesn't mean anything and she knows that after all this time now. I felt her soft warm palm on my arm. My eyes closed involuntarily for a half a second, and I took a somewhat deep breath. Because while I have the majority of my emotions chemically shut down? Sexual machinery all functions like intended. I used to jump out of my skin when she unexpectedly touched me. Now? I give a little start for a vastly different reason.
"I liked it, too. You can tell me you think I'm cute, or pretty? And that's one thing. But... that. I'm, just, warm and tingling all over now. You made me feel so..."
"Good, though. Right?"
She had a fingertip between her perfect little white teeth, and nodded.
"Not good. Great."
"Hmm. Glad you liked it."
Her grin went to the radiant smile she had sometimes.
"This? Is, where a girl goes to the girls at work. Shares that. You know. Girls, being silly girls."
I didn't know what to say. Dead air. I felt the slight urge to fight it. So, I'll just say something, and try not to screw the moment up. I get so damn few of them.
"I guess I hope they like it, too then."
"Hmm. One will jump up and down and squeal. Happy for me. One? Will probably get mad, and go home to her boyfriend. Tell him the twenty minute girl story, and then he'll be in trouble. Why don't you ever get lost in my eyes like that. Most in the middle though. Some more happy, some more jealous. A mix."
I've learned to just go with things, and not screw them up as best I can manage. She managed it for me.
"Do you know what this means? To me."
I shrugged more with my face than my body. She had that little curl at the corner of her mouth, and drew out the suspense a few seconds before answering.
"I think I just... could fly. Just a little short one, but... I think I did it."
"Is that good, I'm guessing."
She rolled her eyes, smiling.
"No. Not good. Wonderful."
"I'm... really happy for you. Honest. I am."
She paused.
"Can we talk a little, about it. I don't expect you to... you know, jump around and squeal, like an excited girl at work. But, a little something? Couple words. Or not."
Now I paused.
"Can I tell you a little story, instead?"
"Sure."
"I was in college. You were too, you understand. Sometimes, you gather in a dorm room. Some beer, some joints passed around."
"Uh huh. A party. A little one."
"Like that. We were in this one dorm room. Two guys to a room. The two guys in the next room? One went home for the weekend, the other was with us. Empty dorm room, right beside us."
"Okay."
"Girl there. One of the girls I noticed around. She had that, little bit of goth thing going on. Never got anywhere with her, trying to chat her up. You kind of quit trying. That's where I was with her. I had quit trying. Now, next thing I know. I'm getting smiled at. Sitting up on me. Holding hands. Next thing I know? Heck, we're in the next dorm room. Empty."
She smiled.
"Hmm. Gentlemen, start your engines. You, are cleared for take off."
"Yeah. I mean, pretty hard to screw it up at this point. I mean, its her idea to go next door and be alone. Not mine. I'm golden, right?"
"Sure."
"I don't know other guys. I just know me. Sometimes, it just happens so easy. Other times? Not at all. Its those in between ones, that are puzzles. You get alone. You have to touch some, then kiss. Then? Well, you know what's supposed to come next."
She nodded, biting her fingertip again.
"Ruff!"
I chuckled.
"Yeah. I, developed a rule. To... try to limit, the number of... that thing where she just gets out of the mood, and that's it. Everything was fine, and..."
"It happens. How did you fight that."
"Well. Once you got tongues down each others throats. Hands going places. My rule. Do not stop kissing her, until... it actually gets going. I have more success that way. Seems like, if you give her a chance? She might come up with some... hate to say it like this, but... some stupid girl problem."
"I follow. Go on."
"So. Not like I keep kissing, if the girl pushes or slaps. But. I keep that tongue and lip action going, until..."
She smiled.
"Until you're in the saddle."
"Yeah."
"You... were in the saddle."
"I was."
"What happened."
"TV was on loud. Now, I always try to be the... best guy I can be. If I can. I mean, if all it takes is holding a door, doing the coat or the chair? I try it. I'm a young guy. I want that sex. Any little thing I can do, that might help? Can't hurt. And... I always want to go the extra mile."
"This? Is getting good."
"So. It runs through my mind. I had seen a talk show a couple weeks before. A question had been, what's the difference between having sex and making love. One person said it was the same thing, the other said no, there was a difference. Pushed to prove that? That guest said... sex? Is laying in bed, with the TV on. You get up to change the channel. But, making love? You get up to turn the TV off."
God I love those little explosions of her musical laughter.
"Can I try to... finish this story?"
"Sure. Solve the great puzzle."
"You got up, and turned the TV off. Didn't you. You didn't say why, but in your mind? You... were just going the extra mile. Like, being the guy that wasn't ashamed to pull her chair out, put her coat over her shoulders."
"Yeah."
"She stopped it. No explanation. You asked for one? She was just... out of the mood, sorry. Back to the party next door. Wondering what in the hell just went on. How am I doing."
"That was you?"
The explosion of laughter was tantalizing.
"Okay. You, were about to sum this up. Go ahead now."
"Sum it up? What in the hell just happened. Its like the more I try my best? The worse I do. The less I do or even care? The better I do. Then, land a girlfriend. Try to take her out and be a swell boyfriend? Gone. You hear later about it. Oh, him. He was all... desperate. Wining and dining me, all that shit. Next girlfriend? Oh, he's okay. But, he's too nice. Then? You learn to act like a little bit of a dick. Cause guys tell you. It goes okay, but then? The girl leaves just the same. This time? You weren't nice enough."
"Frustrating. Isn't it."
"Hell yeah."
"What did you end up doing. You ended up in a great place, eventually."
"At some point? I just gave up. I would ask a girl out three times? Then, that's it. I kept getting trapped in... that stupid friend zone? Guys had to tell me. Soon as you hear that, lets just be friends? Tell them no. Be firm. Move on. Now, you're in charge. She chases you? Take it or leave it. As you prefer. Because if you let them friend zone you? The others will do it, too. Older guys told me. You can't be a woman hater? But... if you kiss their ass, you're asking to get treated like shit."
"Hmm. Any other... older guy rules?"
I paused.
"Uh, none that, that's... guy only. Its not for mixed company. Some of the things that come out, when its all guys? Its... it can be taken the wrong way or sound horrible."
"Try me. You might be surprised."
"I might get surprised? In a way I don't like. I'd rather not."
"Hmm. A challenge. I like that."
She was smiling and biting the end of that finger. She held up her favorite piece of rope laying handy on the battered nightstand by her big old bed.
"I can just tie you up? And make you tell me. Then, keep it up twice as long. So you learn that when I use a certain look or tone of voice? I expect to be listened to. So. Which one is it going to be. You're going to tell me, regardless. Choose one."
I sighed.
"It doesn't sound good. Taken out of context, a lot of it."
She swatted me with the loose end of the rope. Giggling.
"Last chance."
"Well. You have to decide what girls are. How you're going to treat them. How you... think of them."
"And. The boys all alone. No girl cooties present. What did you boys decide."
I sighed again.
"In general, of course. Not all. Just... almost all. Girls? Are... basically, grown up little children."
"Hmm. Interesting. You, mister science. Isn't every adult, male or female... kind of a grown up child? By definition."
"I'm talking... spoiled rotten little kids."
"And. Why do you think that? What did you... guys come up with. Why that is."
"Girls are spoiled, from the moment they're born. Most of them."
"Really."
"Little boy. Telling mom and dad... no! You run the risk, that mom or even dad? Hauls off and backhands you for the mouth, for defying them. You pick your ass up off the ground, with a fat lip. Boys learn quick. When dad raises his voice? You better listen. And if mom raises her voice? She'll do it, and if she can't? She'll tell your father. And he will."
"Kids need boundaries. There has to be some discipline."
"In general? By the numbers. Boys learn there are physical consequences, to acting up. Most girls? Don't get hit. They get a lecture. They get grounded. Its not every case, but... if you had to bet? We all know where the smart money goes."
"I'll buy that one."
"Get a little older. Sneak out all night, when you're grounded. Girl? Oh, I just can't do a thing with her, I don't know what to do. Boy? There's an excellent chance, you're going to get hurt. How many boys get tossed out at 18? You're an adult. Go. Girls? Only if they want. How many adult men you see, daddy pays half their house payment, half their car payment. So they have it easier. Adult women? Tons."
"Wow. You boys, all got together, and discovered it. Boys and girls have differences. Amazing. You guys should have written a paper, and published it. People might not know this stuff."
"Well? I've been around a lot of girls my whole life. Most of them? Yeah. Spoiled pains in the asses. The ones that dad actually backhanded her onto her ass, for that mouth? They talk polite to people."
"Keep going."
"Am I digging myself into a hole, here?"
"Mm. Who knows. Guess you'll find out, when we're done. I know this, though. If you don't? Well..."
I got smiled at and swatted with the frayed end of her rope. I chuckled and continued.
"Doesn't ever end. As a boy? As a young man. Into adulthood. If I run my mouth, and act up too much? I run the risk of getting my ass kicked. As boys? We come home with our eyes beat shut. Split lips. We learn. There can be actual consequences."
"Oh. Girls get into fights, too."
I giggled.
"Not like boys? And you know it. Typical cat fight. Pushing, shoving, name calling. Some scratching, some hair pulling. Some clothes torn. And if a girl can't fight? Not a big deal. But if a boy can't fight, well... he's a sissy."
She nodded.
"Get into adulthood. Girls get all the best and easiest of everything. Kind of just for being a girl. As a guy? Ha."
"Examples."
"First day of work. Tough boss. He tells you, how things are going to be, working here. A girl? Day one. Here's the days I don't work. Here's the days I'll be late, and leave early. The girl? Tells him. And this shit floats. Girls basically take one day a week off? Any time they feel like it. A guy tries that? You're fired."
"It happens."
"Happens? A lot."
She smiled.
"How about me."
"Present company excluded."
"Oh. Come on. What... benefits do I get. For being a girl."
"Honest Indian?"
Swatted with her end of the rope, giggling.
"You know it."
"I understand the reason? But, you still dropped out of college. I notice. You can just... carry food, from here to there. Don't have to cook it. Don't have to wash the dishes. I notice something. You girls? Take home 50 to 150 bucks on a good shift? Tax free extra money. Just... walking around."
"It gets hectic. You know that."
"Sure. And when it does? That's a 150 dollar tips night. You telling me. That cook, that side order cook, slash dishwasher. They're not hectic too? Sweating their ass off, around hot ovens and griddles. For what. Minimum wage, no tips. Girls? 150 bucks extra just for showing up to work, and walking around. The guys? Minimum wage, no tips, doing all the real work."
"Hmm. Jealous?"
"Not really. When I was in college, yeah. Cause I was the dishwasher. Now? I have more. No longer jealous. But? Doesn't mean the game isn't rigged."
"Being a waitress, is one of those jobs, that just---"
"You're driving down the road. Work zone. You see all these burly guys, doing hard work. The only girls you see? Working on their tan, holding stop signs, talking on their radios to each other. Flag girls? Make what the guys doing the ass busting labor are making. And? They're taking jobs, away from a guy that needs that job and benefits, to feed his wife and kid. And, if he can't get that job? Wife and kid leave him. He's not good enough."
"I can't argue with that."
"Life? More or less kicks men in the teeth, constantly. Want me to go on?"
"Sure."
"A woman can't afford her kids. Free apartment. Free electric. Free heat. Free internet. Free medical. Free taxi rides, anywhere. You know what happens when a man can't afford to pay child support? You go to jail. Then, they let you out? Its even harder to make child support payments. You go back, every time you can't pay. And if you show me the one girl in county jail for not paying her child support? Don't make me laugh. There's 19 more guys to her one, and you know it."
"You done?"
"Sure. If I'm allowed to be. But, when guys sit around and get going? I can do this all night. And, am I really wrong about any of this."
"Not really. You're just stating facts, and valid observations."
"Yeah. And if I say it in an office? I'll get fired. By human resources. The first girl complains that I said boo. As a man, if I smack the secretary at work on the ass? I can be fired, immediately. The secretary? Can smack me on the ass, and chase me around, grabbing my dick. She can't be fired for it. So. In conclusion. While its certainly not each and every single case? Women? From birth, until they die. Get special treatment and rules, everywhere you turn. But? Men, by and large, do all the hard jobs. The dangerous jobs. The complicated jobs. You see women there? Most of them are just coasting. But? Taking the jobs the men need, and getting the same pay and benefits. I mean, go to any retail store. There's some little girl, ain't old enough to buy cigarettes yet. Been there all of six months? Supervisor. Like she knows her ass from a hole in the ground. The guy? He's been there 14 years, he's carrying heavy shit to stock the shelves. Here's this little girl. Spoiled. Walking around in nice clothes, ordering everyone around."
She nodded. Not mad at all.
"I notice. You center around... facts and figures. Pretty sure, you guys talking this stuff, alone, no girl cooties infecting the group therapy session and all. It drifts into the personal life, too. Give me a sample of that."
"Well. Here's where I have to point out. Present, company, excluded. You don't do the following stuff."
"Standard disclaimer. Go on."
"Who, in general? Pays for dates. Who buys more presents, and for how much. While there are exceptions, better than 9 out of 10 times if not more... who has to have the real job, to make the house and car payments. Its all on the guy. We do, pretty much everything. We build it all, we maintain and fix it all. Without men? You don't have modern society."
"How many guys, do you suppose? Feel like this."
I sighed.
"Pretty much almost all of us. Everyone acts like, we have it all? Because we have dicks. We don't. Last thing."
"Ooh. A big ending, I hope."
"Crime statistics. You take any crime, any one you pick. Sentencing? Women overall, get one third the years in jail, for the identical crimes. And here's a couple great examples. Guy and a girl, are having sex on the beach. Someone can see, and calls the cops, complaining. They arrest them both. Ask any prosecutor this one. Ex was a lawyer, I get the inside track on this one. They can't try them together. They were both doing the exact... same... thing. Girl, gets no charges, left go from the station. The guy? Gets sentenced, and goes on the website. For sex criminals. He's fucked for life, she's off Scot free. Case where a 55 year old man? Went out to get the mail, in his boxers. He got arrested? Indecent exposure. Jail, and he's a sex pervert, on the website? Rest of his life. Boxers! Compare that, to all the little booty shorts and string bikinis."
"Wow. I never realized all that, but. Yeah."
"You ever notice how many female teachers, are carrying on sexual relationships? With kids. Most of the women, don't get in much trouble. The guys? Jail."
"So. After all this. How... do you view women. How do you think of us."
"I'm not a woman hater. But, I ended up viewing them, like a cat. If they don't scratch and bite too much. If... they seem to like to cuddle up and snuggle? That's a good cat."
"So, men are dogs."
"Yeah. We can be very loyal. A dog? Will get killed, trying to protect you. It will give its life for you. And that's what a man is supposed to do. Some crazy asshole breaks in, the middle of the night? The man, whether he can fight or not? Is expected to grab onto that big scary felon, and get himself killed, slowly. Long enough, to give the wife and kid, time to escape. That? Is the role, for men. When the country is under attack? The men get drafted. We go to jail, if we run. Hell, we're expected to volunteer, to go get killed. Look at world war two. The men all got killed, and the ones that lived? Were either cowards, or they're fucked up even living through it. The women? High paying jobs in all the factories."
"Now. How in the hell, do you not hate women. Seeing, knowing all that."
I shrugged.
"Honest? Just the way it is. Deal with it."
"And how do you deal with it."
"We all have our strategies. Mine? I don't deal with it."
"Can I ask a serious question?"
I chuckled. I lifted my chin, to gesture towards her rope.
"Like I have a choice."
"Oh. That. Off the table. No threat. No repercussions. At all. Scout's honor."
"What."
"You always said. You never did hit a girl."
I shrugged.
"Its a rule. Got it from my dad. He was old school."
"I believe you. I've seen you a while now. Drunk girls, on the weekends? When the bar crowd comes in. You don't take the bait."
"And I don't kick cats, either. Even if I get bit or scratched. Its a theme with me."
She nodded.
"You never wanted to?"
I grinned.
"I'll tell you what I tell other guys, and all the time when this shit comes up."
"Sounds juicy. What."
"I won't do it? But, I understand where the urge, comes from."
"Fair. And, the guys that do?"
"That ain't me. I have self control. I was either born with it, or I was raised to have it, or... some combination."
"How do you feel about guys that would haul off and backhand a girl onto her ass."
"I don't like answering that one. And you said, no threats."
"Please?"
I sighed.
"In the exact same situation as that guy that did? I wouldn't. But, depending on the situation? I might not always fault them for it. Depends. There. I said it."
"Interesting. So. There are situations, where if a woman got cracked a good one. She deserved it."
"Off the record? Yeah. Case by case basis."
"But, you won't ever do it."
"Nope. You've seen drunk girls slap me, for no reason? I was a fighter. She can't hurt me."
She let me continue.
"Look. Some guys, I don't know. Out there, looking for an excuse. To hit a guy, to hit a girl. I'm not. On some level? I know. Some drunk girl pulls that shit, after a couple good slaps, I'm allowed to crack her one back. But? I don't."
"Do guys get the same... deal."
I sighed.
"Some guys? When they get the green light, they don't look both ways. They just... floor it and go. Its where bad accidents come from. And, this is no different. Some young kid, drunk young shit. He's about as scary to me? As some girl. I'll try not to hurt him, if I can. Ask my buddies. They've seen it. If I can't reason with the drunk kid, I'll tell his buddies. Guys? You like him, at all? You better get him out of here."
"Most guys? If they can beat the kid half their size up? They will. Then brag about it."
"Yeah. I don't do that."
"Why not."
"Why? I don't get anything out of it, that's why. That... ego boost? I come from a really rough and tumble, small burned out steel town. I had to learn to fight growing up. I'm... ashamed, more or less. If I beat up someone half my size. That can't fight. If its not some serious threat? Not worth the trouble."
"And if the threat's serious?"
I gave her a shrug and my signature dead pan.
"Kick the dog enough. You'll get bit."
"Okay. You're off the hook. I'm done torturing you."
I waited.
"There a point to all this?"
"Nothing I didn't already know, or suspect. I was just... confirming it, I guess."
"Hmm. To what end."
She nestled into me.
"I feel really... safe with you. You're different than most guys are. And especially a girl like me, and what happened? Its harder for me to feel safe with a guy. But I do with you."
"Got it from my dad, I guess. Women and children and small animals? Should have nothing to fear from you. That said. Its a sad fact of life, but still a fact. Without a credible threat? Lots of people will pull all kinds of shit."
"Mm. My mom? Would have called you... the strong silent type. My dad? Would have called you... the quiet man. How do you... think of yourself."
"I think of my dad? He was a quiet, polite hard ass. Old school. And before you ask? I don't think of myself as a tough guy."
"What, then."
"Half a tough guy."
"And, the other half, then?"
"If I could have my choice, what people thought of me. I'd rather be thought of as an intellectual. Not some... thug."
"Nothing wrong with that."
"Maybe to me, now you. But to most of the world? Intellectuals, are weak. And I would prefer? To let them think that, if it led to nothing serious. I pride myself, on my intellectual pursuits. I would prefer, to be judged on that. Unfortunately, however. While we all love to pretend, how civilized we all are? We're not. Its bullshit icing, smeared over the cake underneath."
"What's underneath it all."
I sighed.
"Law of the jungle. Kill or be killed. Eat or be eaten."
"That's a bit harsh."
"It sounds harsh. Just the truth. Take what happened to you. That sound... civilized to you?"
"No. I guess not."
"You guess? Or you know."
"I know."
"Right. And my ex? Stabbed to death, three times over. In her own goddamn bathtub. I don't find that to be... civilized."
"I guess you're right."
"You saw it, happen to you. I saw it? Happen to her. Its part of human nature."
She waited a while.
"Do you feel guilt?"
"Over..."
"What happened to her."
"I've had a couple years, to analyze this. There's various factors."
"If you can. No threat."
"Her father? Got his son and her older sister. Great jobs, around where they lived. He stuck her? On the other side of the state."
"I wonder why."
"He hated me. He was rich and important and connected? And... I wasn't good enough for his little princess. I couldn't keep her in the manner, that he did. I'm not a multimillionaire, and neither are my parents. Because that's what he was? Rich and all fired important and connected? He wanted at least that, for her. And before you say it, this wasn't the normal... bit of that. Up front for a couple years. This? Was an ongoing theme."
"So. In that way. He, in the pursuit of protecting her... kind of put her in a situation. He should feel guilt. Not you."
I paused.
"She wanted me out in that city, and I didn't want to live in the city. And, if I had? I'd have been there, most likely. It either wouldn't have happened? Or, a good chance that the guy would have had to tangle with me. Not her. Or? Maybe it still happened, but... I'd have known enough about her work life, maybe I'd have been able to help find whoever did it. So? There's my huge guilt."
"Did you ever try... religion?"
"My religion. I was raised Catholic when little, by the way. I know this one. That? Oh, that was all just, God's great plan. It was for the best, you know. We just can't see it. Gotta have faith. Oh. And naturally? I have to love my enemy. Forgive him. Turn the other cheek."
"And?"
I paused.
"Fuck all that noise."
"You don't believe in religion anymore."
I sighed again. The sighing game. I've gotten good at it, practice makes perfect you know.
"My faith? Died a long time ago. Long before this."
"Can I ask."
"Sure, little one. Its like this. Told you a lot. I was the smart kid, and I was also the weird kid. The other kids were hurting me, and not like normal. I was the kid everyone could enjoy picking on. You have any idea, what that does to a little kid? Particularly a boy."
"Depression. Anxiety."
"Yeah. Don't forget self hate. Grade school? No friends. Sit around crying, by myself. Punching myself in the face, what the hell's wrong with me. Up through 4th grade? Catholic school. Everyone hurts me? They really don't get into any trouble. But, when I finally hurt someone back? Oh, I'm in big trouble now. All I get? God's big plan. Love thy enemy. Just turn that other cheek. And, this loving god? He made me different. Why. So he could watch me get tortured for it. For his own sick amusement. God's big plan? My dimpled white ass."
"You had faith, though?"
"Till a certain point. I remember the very day, the moment, my faith ended."
"Gotta hear this."
"8th grade. Biology class. We were going over reproduction. People used to believe in what they called the... active principle. That's where babies came from. The woman? Breathed in the... active principle. Its how she got pregnant."
"Weird."
"No more weird, than a lot of things we used to all believe. I raised my hand. I asked. These were scientists. Didn't anyone realize? That virgins didn't get pregnant. He laughed. They knew. But? All you were doing, was somehow setting off the woman, to accept the active principle."
"Okay. How did this, cost you... faith."
"I'm sitting there. It suddenly popped into my head. Virgin birth. Virgin birth. Walked into that classroom? Still had faith. Walked out? That was the moment. And the more you question it. The more plot holes you find. I mean, lets get serious. There's a booming voice, from out of nowhere. Commanding you. In one case? The... scary voice. Commanded a guy. You will sacrifice your first born son to me. The man was in tears, and he begged god... no, please. God commanded him. So? Crying, and with a heavy heart. He had to show obedience to god. He tied his son up, and put him on the altar. He had the knife? Ready to plunge it into him. Sacrifice him."
"Holy shit."
"Accurate. It was shit, and it was held to be holy. Anyways. At the last second? God stopped him. He was only testing his faith. He had passed the test. He could release the boy, and there was a ram in the thicket. The... ram's horns? Caught in the branches. God provided that, too. Told him to sacrifice that ram."
"That's a horrible story."
"Like its the only one. Job. He was a devout and pious man. God was pleased with him? In all ways. He rewarded him, too. Many fine sons. Lots of animals and possessions. The, uh, devil? Came to god. God showed him Job, and how much faith he had. God was inordinately pleased. The devil, though. He asked god. But... you treat him so well. Give him great hardship? He will curse you, for cursing him. You test his faith enough? He will fall."
"The trials of Job."
"Yeah. On some... bet? With the devil, mind you. God started to fuck with him. His animals ran away and got sick and died. His crops failed. His sons? Fell ill and died. God said look. He still praises me. The devil said, though. Hurt him, you'll see. So? God made Job ill. Weak. Covered him in weeping sores. Still though, his faith in god? Did not falter. The devil lost that bet. And so? God rewarded Job. For his faith. He got twice as many sons back. He got twice as many animals and crops back. He got more gold and possessions, than ever before. He deserved it."
"Sort of a happy ending."
"Really? No one, stops and looks at it from all the sons point of view. They all got killed. They hadn't done shit. All for a bet? With the devil himself? Please. That, is my loving god. You want me to trust in that kind of plan? No. And I got another one."
"Oh, god."
"Moses. Egypt."
"The plagues."
"Yeah. Each plague sent, the Pharaoh would release the Hebrews. Then? He would harden his heart, and send the army to bring them back. Finally, god had enough. He sent Moses to tell the Pharaoh. The kid gloves are off now. You? Have killed the first born son of all the Hebrew slaves. I will now send, the angel of death. He will go from house to house, in all of Egypt. Killing every first born son."
"I remember that story. Movie, too."
"Yeah. My question, though."
"Sure."
"The hell did little kids, even Egyptian little boys. The hell did they do. I don't know what the angel of death looks like, you wake up in the middle of the night, and he's standing there. Bet he's scary. And this, is your... loving, caring, god? He kills little kids, that are innocent. In droves. I mean, you send the angel of death to the Pharaoh. That's the asshole that ordered all the first born Hebrew sons dead. The Pharaoh? Lived."
"You became an atheist."
"Actually? No. There's... a thing called.. agnostic. I believe in god, or that there could be one. It, can even make sense to me that what we call god? Could exist as something else. But, I'm also open to the idea that there's not. Agnostic. We don't believe, we don't not believe. We... straddle the fence. My take on it? Personally."
"Sure."
"Maybe there is, maybe there isn't. I can't know. Myself, I wouldn't have the temerity. The unmitigated gall. To assume that I understood him, and knew exactly what he wanted or needed out of me. And... honestly? The bible, was written by men."
"So. Virgin birth, virgin birth... there goes the faith."
"That was the day I first seriously questioned it. But, as soon as I started looking into it, to decide? Too many plot holes."
"Hmm. And Jesus?"
"Oh. He was definitely real. Too many different people named him and described him. He definitely was a real person. He definitely... started, what a sociologist would call... a pacifist movement, in the form of a religion. But... the son of god himself? Hmm."
"How do you account, for..."
"Every so many years? You would travel back to your... home land. For what we would call today, a census. All these pilgrims, are walking in groups, back to the homeland. They posted a Roman centurion, every so often on the road. This protected the regular people, walking. Do you wonder, what the Romans had to say about the whole... virgin birth?"
"Afraid to ask."
"Well. There was a Roman centurion. The virgin Mary, was walking in the group with him guarding them. He didn't know anything strange was up. All he knew? Those two hit it off, and they spent time together on the road. The Romans, always said if Jesus was the son of god? Then... god, must be this Roman soldier. His name? Was Pantera."
"Where in the hell is this---"
"Little one. If you're waiting, for the priest or the nun at church, to tell you this was written down? You'll die waiting. Now I ask you. On the one hand. Virgin birth. And on the other hand? This... handsome, muscular, tough Roman centurion... had a fling, with a pretty, single girl on the long march on the road? And everyone said, they spent a lot of time talking. Which makes more sense."
"I guess."
"I'll go you one better."
"If you say so."
"Joseph. The husband of the virgin Mary. When she was with child, after that long trip herself? He wanted nothing to do with her. She, was unfaithful. It was obvious."
"I guess."
"Oh. No, its okay honey. God? Told me. I would have his son. Its? A miracle. Supposedly, and its in the bible. Joseph didn't believe that bullshit. God was supposed to have sent him an angel. In his dream. Joe? Its cool. I'm god, and I made her get pregnant. Virgin birth. You? Will raise... the son of god himself."
"Hmm."
"And, as far as Jesus himself. If you were told, by your own mother and father agreeing? That you were the son of god. You would wholeheartedly believe it. You might even start to act like it."
"And the... miracles?"
"The miracles... or the stories."
"Well. Point taken."
"Seriously. Booming, scary voice. From the sky. If I told you, that a scary voice from the sky, commanded me to do... well? Pretty much anything. You believe me?"
"Uh..."
"Exactly. Schizophrenics, hear voices."
"The burning bush, the ten commandments."
"There's a little desert, kind of shrubbery plant? Grows in that area, to this day. Its rare, but under the right conditions? It does burst spontaneously into flame. And as far as god himself, with his own hand... wrote the ten commandments? Moses went up alone on that mountain. You're taking one man's word."
"You're too good at this."
"I know."
"So, you don't believe in religion at all."
"I think its human nature, to believe in something. And if you just get raised from birth, and you buy into it? Its a great thing. If you were to sit down, and try to come up with ten rules, to make it easier for us to get along down here? You'd pretty much be writing the ten commandments. Plenty of religions, hold the same basic rules."
"You don't mind, if people believe."
"No. Not at all. In fact, the more people you can get to go along with this? Don't kill, don't lie, don't steal. Don't fuck my wife. In fact? Don't so much as covet my wife... looking at her like that. No, the more people you can get onto this plan? Happier guy I am."
"So, religion is for stupid people."
"No. A lot of very bright people, believe in it. I'm fine. I do have problems, though."
"Such as."
"Well. When more people believe it, than don't believe? Things are better. People are at least trying, to control their urges. But, when you dip below a certain percentage... you're just victims."
I waited a little bit.
"Well? What about you."
"Oh. I mean, we went to church sometimes, when I was little, but... we weren't any kind of holy rollers, or anything."
"Sounds familiar. What about... after."
"Mm. My parents, tried anything they could. To help me."
"That help any?"
"Not really, no."
"And, what did you hear. When you went and tried."
"Uh. Like you said. Vengeance is mine, says the lord. Love thy enemy. Turn the other cheek. You must forgive them."
"That shit help any?"
"Not at all. No."
"They have anything else? I'm assuming, you might have had a... priest counsel you, or something."
"Well, yeah. He suggested, I should go to church every day. Pray for the strength to forgive them, whoever did it. And, maybe I should start volunteering, to help people, through the church."
"You do that?"
"Nope."
"Yeah. Gotta love them. Father? I've been beaten and left for dead. I almost died. I was brutally raped. What can I do. Oh, little one. Do nothing. Its fine. But hey, while you're at it? Come every day, and do free labor for us."
We paused a bit.
"Honey? I can forgive and forget. Let bygones be bygones, with the best of them. But, you get to a certain point. There needs to be consequences. Specifically? When the thing done, was horrible enough. I'm sorry. There's things? I just won't forgive. What happened to you. What happened to my ex."
"No. I could see that. What about you. When you were little."
"Well. Any one thing the other kids did, picking on me? Is one thing. I realize, kids are kids. But, I'll tell you a story."
"About..."
"Oh. We're adults now. We can all laugh about it. You know the drill."
"Okay."
"So. I go off to college. I'm there a whole year. Was college perfect? Hell no. But, definitely better than high school ever thought of being. Came home. One full year later."
"You were different?"
"Yeah. I was always a tall skinny kid. I was a late bloomer. I filled out, it was like lifting weights and working out? Suddenly worked. Lost my virginity? Like, maybe two weeks I hit campus. Started getting laid, had a few girlfriends. I was a whole different person."
"Aw. The caterpillar, came home a butterfly. It happens."
"Yeah. Anyways. There was, a big party. Its summer. They rented out a pavilion at the park. Kegs of beer, lots of food. I went."
"Hmm. You had your confidence now. How did it go."
"All right for a while. A few guys, tried their usual shit."
"How did that go."
"I let it go, and after a while? Told them. Knock this shit off, it ain't gonna fly. I'm bigger and stronger now."
"They listen?"
"Yeah. I remember, going and playing basketball. Couple hours. Then all the food and kegs. We were all drunk. I have memory, right up until this one point? Then... I wake up in the hospital. I can't walk. I can barely breathe. I drag this... IV beeping thing, into the bathroom, morning piss. I had to use a chair, for a walker to get in and out. I look in the mirror? I literally, did not recognize my own face in the mirror. Head swollen up like a melon. Can't move my jaw. Face stitched up some."
"What happened?"
"I had no idea. Nurse came in. All happy, I was awake. She said I'd been in a little coma. Had to tell me what day it was. I asked her, what happened. She said, I looked like I was in a car wreck, or got run over by a car walking. Easy to believe. Came to find out, though. Wanna guess?"
"You got beat up."
"Yeah. According to... police had witnesses coming down to the station, on their own. Apparently, I got so drunk, I was staggering. Some guy... took full advantage. Said I was laying in the weeds. Then later, laying there. I guess, a couple guys. You know. Surrounded me passed out drunk? Threw me what's called a boot party."
"Why?"
"There was no real reason. But I know what it was."
"What."
"The weird, smart kid? The tall skinny one, it was so much fun to pick on him?"
"Yeah."
"Couldn't do that anymore. Scared to fight me. So? When you grow up, that one special abuse unit, everyone is allowed to pick on? I needed taught a lesson. And that? Was the lesson."
"How bad did you get hurt."
"Most of my ribs were broke. More than once. Dislocated hip. Some internal injuries. My jaw? Was broke in at least six places. They called it... not a broken jaw? Shattered. My cheek was crushed. My one eye? Was completely, just blood red. Stayed that way? For months and months. Detached retina. The MRI? Showed... hot spot they call it. On my brain. Brain damage. My nose wasn't broke. It was... obliterated. The eye socket? The bones were crushed, went into the eye."
"Wow. You got hurt... worse than I did, I think."
"Maybe. You get painkillers, in the hospital?"
"There was some shot, they stuck it in my IV. Put me out for hours. That went on for a while."
"I had to lay there. For three days. 72 hours, with nothing but two fucking Tylenol, every 8 hours. I'm... yelling for them to give me something, I can't sleep. Three days and nights. I threw the Tylenol off the wall. Didn't touch it."
"Why?!?!"
"Alcohol. Rules said. No narcotics, no painkillers? For 72 hours. Man, I knew when 72 hours was up, to the minute. At like 4:20 in the morning? I'm pressing that button. Ding, ding, ding. Where's my shot."
"You get something."
"Yeah. Heard a nurse yelling. I'm coming, I know. She ran in, checked my chart, the clock. Ran out and came back with, some shot she fixed up. I asked her, will that work? She laughed. Oh, yeah, it'll work. I promise. I asked her. Can, I've been waiting, three days and nights. In screaming agony. Pull a little more in that syringe. She asked how much I weighed. I told her. She said, I was right on the edge, another 5 pounds? Chart said I got a little more. She looked at me, and pulled a little extra. Shot me up."
"It work?"
"I was asking that. She's just standing there. Waiting. Pretty quick, yeah. When I woke up? Couple hours, and she'd fix me up again. I asked what it was, she said. And I quote. Don't worry, you can't afford it. I said I don't do drugs. Just wanted to know. She smiled. Said? We call it... twilight."
"Twilight."
"I never knew. Years later? A type of Morphine."
"At least it worked."
"Yeah. Weird. I woke up once from it. Rolled over? Felt, and heard. The crushed cheek and sinus, jaw bones? Crunching. I laughed. I knew, this should really really hurt. It didn't."
"How long did this go---"
"About a week. Then? I had surgery. They, had stitched my face up. Doctor said, when I came in? Jawbones, were compound fractures. They were poking out of my face. My cheeks and sinuses? Same. My nose. It wasn't just broken. The nose skin? Was ripped across, and... my nose? Doctor said he lifted it off of my face. Trimmed meat, and... just shoved it back in, and stitched it shut quick."
"My god."
"If he even exists? This, must be part of his big plan for me."
"You look okay."
"I got my face rebuilt. The doctor? Rebuilt my face. From my drivers license. If you knew what to look for? I have two different jawlines. Two different cheeks. One eyes sits different. An artist I knew, showed me. My eyes? Are slightly off, from one another."
"Well. At least you came out okay."
"The nightmare? Wasn't over. No way, not for me. They shot me up, wheeled me down for surgery?"
"Yeah."
"I'm laying there. I get the next shot. Count from 20, down to 1. You never make it. But... I'm laying there? I'm unable to move. I can't scream, I can't get away. I sat there, and experienced them rebuilding my whole face. I felt? Everything. When I woke up? I was terrified. I told the nurses, I told anyone who would listen. No one told me, you're awake for surgery. They didn't believe me. I kept telling them. My one nurse? She said she had read about this. She, goes and gets three guys. Which one, is the one you're saying, did the work on you. Looked at them? None of them. Then I picked him out of another line up. I proved it."
"Wow."
"I told them, exactly what all they did. Described? Everything. I remember laying there, and this guy. Grabs my face? And, you know how you tap a keg? That's what the long tube looked like. A long, stainless, tube, cut off sharp. He grabs my face, and... well? He tapped my head, like it was a beer keg. Looked and felt, like he pinned my head like a bug, to the table. He said it. I described it all, to a T. I even told them, I remembered things people said, in the operating room. The anesthesiologist, said they did have a problem with racing heart. I guess they finally put me down, completely under? While they were cutting into my jaw, grinding it, wiring it back up."
"That's..."
"A nightmare? You can't even imagine. Took me a month or two, to get around good. Getting my jaw not wired shut, was the last thing. I went, from... something like, 215 pounds of cut muscle? Down to skinnier than I ever was."
"Not good, for you in your case."
"Not at all. I had been lifting weights, hitting heavy bags and speed bags? All along for a couple years, but... now? It became a religion. I always did run long distance, but now? Ten miles a day. Rain. Shine. Snow? Doesn't matter. 70 miles a week. Lifted weights? Five days a week. And I was in no way happy. I had done this before. Lifted weights, jogged. No. I wanted, no. I needed. Real fighting. I asked around the gym, at college. Knew there was guys doing that, somewhere. Someone? Finally took me. When they figured out I was serious."
"Where?"
"Called it? The Barn. Just, some giant old barn. Out in the sticks. Private club. Fifty bucks a month, and you sign a waiver. You have to have proof of medical insurance."
"Oh, this sounds like a fun place to hang out at."
"I liked it. Giant barn. You can go, any day. There were, guys boxing. Kickboxing, too. Dirty wrestling. Guys with experience? Sort of coach the other guys. Whatever you get? You pass it on. And... you have to fight."
"How did that go."
"Real fighting? You get the ever loving shit kicked out of you. And when you keep coming back for more? They smile. They like it. They accept you. I thought, I knew what tough guys were. No. This? The real deal."
"You liked it."
"No. I loved it."
"I guess you learned to fight."
"Oh yeah. Doesn't come easy."
"So, what are you. A boxer, what."
"Well, that was the thing up front. I wanted, to box. And kickboxing. Wasn't working."
"Well, you gotta learn how to do it."
"After months? Guy took me aside. He said, I know what the problem is. I can prove it."
"What."
"I stand up straight. Another guy stands up straight. You make a fist, and put it out. He's checking my... reach."
"And?"
"I never knew. All I knew my whole life? For some reason, I can't throw a fastball, pitching. No speed. I learned to throw a wicked curve ball? No heat. I throw like a girl. No matter how much I tried. Can't throw a football right, either. No power. He's showing me. He's bringing up shorter and shorter and skinnier guys? Everyone, every last one of them? Has longer arms than I do. Little guys, like... 5'4"? Could lay their fist on my face, and I can't reach them."
"You, don't look little."
"I'm not. But, for a guy a little over 6'1"? I have the arm length, of a guy something like 5'1". I will never, no matter how bad I want it? Box well. Not with real boxers."
"Kickboxing?"
"Weird thing. My legs? Are actually longer, than they should be. I was really flexible, from all the years of running track. And I can kick. My legs? Have serious reach. This guy? Put it all together, just for me."
"What."
"No more boxing matches. Just... light sparring. For speed and accuracy. Kickboxing instead. Emphasis on my legs. My best asset. I can keep a guy back, because my legs are longer. And, if someone doesn't know me? How to fool them."
"Like..."
"Boxing, kickboxing. Its all about... distance. You have to find your range. Well. As a boxer starts coming in on me, getting his range? I let him come in. Get comfortable. Then I open up on him, with my legs. He gets back out? He's not safe. He's still in range. I can still tag him good. Guy forced me into the grappling. Dirty wrestling. Turns out? My short arms were a benefit, at that. Once I'm wrapped up? My short arms aren't a liability. Turns out, the shorter your arms are? You can lift heavier weights. You don't have to move it as far. So. I'm actually stronger than I look."
"You... don't look at all... weak."
"I know, but... I'm as strong as guys a lot thicker than me. Lifting weights."
"How long did this little circus act go on."
"Till I finished college."
"Big change, I guess."
"Huge change. I took a half a year off of college, recovering. See. Way I grew up? I guess, my first year of college. I was, an alcoholic. You don't realize it. I started drinking way too much, after I recovered."
"Understandable."
"Understandable? But not to be tolerated. The barn? Learned the six pack rule."
"What's that."
"No matter how big the party? No matter what you're celebrating. Six beers, or six shots? That's it. No more. Guy said, you can chug all six beers? One after the other. But? That's it, for 24 hours. Because if I get drunk? What happened, will happen again. Couple drinks? Done."
"You can smoke, though."
"Smoke weed? Till the cows come home. Its better for me. What I was looking for, getting hammered drinking? I got out of smoking pot in the evenings."
"You still..."
"I lightened up on the workouts, after college ended. I like to stay in shape, though. Changed my life."
"Something else went on here, I'm just sure of it."
"Well. One year in college, I got hurt that summer. Little break, then... three more years. The, uh... last year of college? Probably what you're thinking of."
"What."
"I started coming home on breaks, that last year. Going out. Making myself? You know. Available."
"Available, for?"
I shrugged.
"What do you think. Loose clothing. Extra quiet. Acted all sweet and innocent, like I'm scared. Sucker them in. Get them putting their hands on me. In a bar full of witnesses. Then? Put guys in the hospital. Self defense. All those witnesses? On camera, them chasing me around."
"Revenge."
"Mm. Justice. See, the guys that, kicked me around. They were running around, a couple years. Bragging. What they did to me? Oh, that was a funny story to tell. How they really taught me a lesson. In fact? More guys were claiming to have gotten me? Than actually did. You know. You gotta act like you're one of the cool kids."
"So?"
"I slowly acquired a list of names. Anyone that did it? And, anyone that had fun claiming it. I was on a mission."
"Cops, lawyers."
"Self defense. Cops were in my shit, but... fuck them too. You know that shit, where the cop will act like a hard ass?"
"Yeah."
"I let them go. But. I'd find them on the street. Out of uniform. Hey. Are you just a sissy? Can't hit you or I go to jail, huh. If you really had some balls, why don't you come to the gym. Where I work out. We'll sign wavers. Lets see how tough you actually are."
"Any of them..."
"Not, a, one. I made sure, everyone in the place, heard it. Many times."
"That can't have been a good idea."
"Oh, they'd threaten me? In uniform. With their badge butt buddy backing them up. Shaking the flashlight in my face. I just laughed at them. Guys? We all know the truth. You ain't got the balls, to take the badge and gun off. Standing invitation."
"Anything bad come out of this?"
"Oh, sure. I'd get jumped by two or three guys sometimes. Mostly little assholes, I take shits bigger than them. Did I win that stuff? No. I got all marked up, but... I hurt them, too. They didn't try it again. Got threatened with knives and beer bottles a couple times. Nothing ever came of it. One drunk asshole, tried sticking a gun in my face. I pistol whipped him down, with his own gun. Drove down to the police station? Gave them his gun. Here."
"People must have thought you were crazy."
"Kinda the idea."
"Well, it worked, I guess. How long did this..."
"Last year of college? And, maybe a year afterwards."
"I guess, you got all the guys on your... naughty list."
"All but one."
"You couldn't locate him."
"Not that. The first one that got me? That guy, was actually my best friend."
"What?"
"Yeah. Oh, I heard his ass was tight. I mean, I got everyone else. Plus others. I guess, he was waiting for his turn."
"What happened."
"By this time, shit was calming down. I was at a, regular gym. He found me there one day. Wanted to talk."
"Apologize?"
"He tried. I wouldn't accept it. We're no longer friends? We never will be. God forgives, I don't."
"Oh."
"Told him though. We were best friends. I'm not coming for you. You get a, free pass on what you did. If you use that, to go running your mouth? Deal's off. We're cool? But, don't ever talk to me again. I ignore you? You, ignore me."
"You let it... pass."
"Yeah."
"What happened to him?"
"He... did the drinking, cocaine, pain pills party thing. Just, disappeared one day. Turned out, a roadie? For bands. His life for years? One big party. Last I heard of him? He had to go to rehab, for coke and all that shit. Lives with a man, in LA."
"What?!?!"
"Yeah. Queer as a three dollar bill. Who knew."
"You lived a strange life, for a while there."
"Eh. A couple years. Hey. Shit happens, right?"
"It does."
"Hey. All this talk about... violence. I, don't want you t---"
She nestled into me, the little grin.
"You're fine. I'm not scared of you."
"Good. I'm hoping, you don't think less of me now."
"Not at all. I'm... it wasn't what I expected."
"In what way."
"Well. Most guys, that describe... stuff like that?"
"Yeah."
"They're... bragging."
"Yeah."
"You don't seem to be. I mean, you seem like you're... not embarrassed, but. Something."
"Yeah. If I can't stay out of a fight, and something happens? I don't get... like I said, there's no ego boost in it. Fighting? Is like anything else. You do it enough, it gets routine? Its not exciting anymore. Its not scary. I don't hate it, really. But, I don't like it either. I think the whole ball of wax? Is retarded. Just, no other way."
"Hmm. What did your ex think of all this."
"Which day."
"What do you..."
"One day? Its okay. Another day? I get a lecture. One time? Before we go out, mister. There's this one guy there. You are not to start with him, you hear me? Next time. Why did you let that little guy do this and that."
She giggled.
"I know girls like that. Never happy, about anything."
"Don't get me wrong. I loved her. Part of her, overall package. No one, is perfect. Lord knows, I ain't. Said it before. We... were the weird couple. I liked it like that."
"You think she was... depressed, or something."
"Oh. A touch of something. But once again. Like I'm perfect. I got to laugh about it."
"What."
"Ah. I hit her place. Late, when I get out. In the morning? Flip a coin. One weekend? Oh, you're the best boyfriend ever, I don't know how you put up with me, I'm sorry. I feel really lucky to have you. Another weekend? Well. I hear about my long list of shortcomings."
"That, sounds like... a little bipolar."
"Can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
"What is.. anxiety. I hear the word a lot, not clear on it."
"Oh. Yeah. Depression? No energy. Always bored, but doesn't want to do anything."
"Well, what's anxiety like then."
"Okay. A depressed person? Low energy. Think, someone is crying, but... softly. Now. Anxiety? That's... running around, all animated. High energy. Anxiety crying? Is... all energetic. The hallmark of depression? Low energy. Anxiety? High energy."
"Which is worse?"
"Depression? Usually goes hand in hand with anxiety. Both are associated with bipolar. The joke is, that the depressed person? Would like to hurt themselves, but doesn't have the energy to get up and do it. But, the depressed person suddenly experiences anxiety? They now have the energy to maybe do something."
"Symptoms of anxiety?"
"Mild, moderate, or severe."
"Mild."
"Eh. Nervous. Restless. Can't make a decision. Soon as they make it? They second guess it. Just anxiety, without depression or bipolar? Will tend to run with a little mild OCD. They tend to stay up late, then have trouble getting moving in the mornings."
"Do you have... a touch of anything?"
"Of course. I tend to get a little depression here and there, nothing serious. A little anxiety sometimes? Again, nothing serious. I... learned to recognize it. It passes quick."
"You weren't like that, before the..."
"No. That's... kinda like the little scar left behind. After my wound healed, so to speak. Why."
"I don't know. If everyone had a touch of something?"
"There's no such thing as... normal. Not really. Every human being on the face of the earth? Has at least a tiny slight touch? Of... something. For instance. Do you know what is considered, statistically normal, across America?"
"Afraid to ask."
"Slight depression. That, is what passes for normal."
"Is... that because Americans are all slightly depressed? Or, did they just lower the bar on what counts as the start of depression, so technically everyone can get on medication and therapy, and they can make a bundle off of it."
"Honestly? No one knows, might even be a little of both. Why. What's yours, you think."
"Way you describe it? A slight anxiety. Just a little. And, just a little dash of... I call it, a healthy OCD."
"You describe? A traumatic childhood, and young adulthood. I would be surprised? If you didn't have a touch of something, left over from all of it. Honestly, for lack of a better word? You couldn't be any more normal, everything taken into consideration."
"Thanks. I don't get to hear... normal? And my name, used in the same sentence an awful lot."
"Hmm. Last question, dear. Then? I want some sleep."
"Shoot."
"You said, you had some brain damage."
"Not like I had to learn to walk, talk, eat again."
"I know. But... nothing came out of it?"
"Some."
"Like, what."
"My mom? Said... the look on my face. The look in my eyes. I was, like a different person after that."
"With trauma? That's normal. Anything else?"
"Hmm. Just one. Not a problem, just I noticed it."
"Well?"
"You know how, there's left brained people, right brained people?"
"One side almost always dominates. You're a complete right hand person? You're a left brain person. And, that's the side that does... math, science, logic. Left handed people? The right brain dominates. You see things like they're an artist, they feel things more than decide like you would."
"Yeah. I never really was known, for any kind of art or real creativity. After the hot spot, on my left side of my brain?"
"Yeah."
"I... started drawing. Doing cartoons. Trying to... design things."
"You got more creative. You noticed the change."
"Yeah. Everyone did."
"One side took damage. The other side? Starts helping out and taking over, until the other side came back online. The brain rewires itself. You probably stayed like that, too."
"Yeah."
"Did... you like the change?"
"Yeah. I did."
"You're fine then."
"Thanks."
I started to say something, and she giggled and interrupted me. I asked what it was.
"I'm really tired. If, you don't want me to stick a pair of socks in your mouth, and tie you up for my bedtime? I'd advise you to let me get a few hours of sleep. Okay?"
"Okay."
"Good. Good night, honey."
A little pause.
"Oh. One last thing."
She giggled into my neck.
"Make it quick."
"You said... you thought, you... could fly a little."
"I did."
"Does that mean..."
"The hell do you think it means. Go on, say it."
"You... think you love me. That you can feel love, finally."
"Wasn't that what flying, was? The way we used the phrase."
"Yeah."
"So, yeah. And you?"
"I think, maybe. Yeah."
"Great. Now, honey?"
"Yeah..."
"Do I have to tie a pair of socks in your mouth, then tie you up? So I can get a couple hours sleep. Last warning."
"Sorry."
She giggled and sighed into my neck.
"Not half as sorry as you'll be, if you keep me up much longer."
We both drifted off to sleep.