Brief Pose

by Wesley McCraw

  Light shines from the seam around the door to my locked bedroom. The familiar sound of the imaginary ocean grows.

  As Yuki gets up, I grab her arm. “Last time I woke up outside. I almost froze to death.”

  “I want to share this with you.”

  “Did you hear what I said?”

  She goes to the side of the love seat, trying not to step on my bed. I get up. She pushes the seat toward the front door, but she can’t get any leverage. It hardly moves.

  “Yuki.”

  “I've gone in tons of times. Everything will be fine.”

  She needs my help. The love seat is a surprisingly heavy piece of furniture.

  “One last time,” I say and push. “We have to let this thing go. Promise me.” With the front door blocked, we move the cardboard boxes I still haven’t unpacked out of the way of the bedroom door. “I have to go to Loo's funeral. I still need to give Victor directions.”

  “Forget about tomorrow. Right now, paradise.” Yuki’s advice, while not the most forward thinking, doesn’t hurt or fill me with dread like Loo’s advice to let go and face my demons.

  The padlock has disappeared. The door opens on its own now that the boxes have been cleared away.

  Yuki takes my hand and leads me into the light. I know this is the wrong thing to do, but it’s my life and my choice to make, and I do it anyway.

  14.2

  We stand in front of the bungalow on the beach. DARK CLOUDS CHURN IN THE SKY like a CGI shot in a disaster movie. While not the paradise I hoped for, this is the paradise I expected. Nothing in my life is ever good for long.

  “Hello!” Yuki calls out. “Anybody?”

  “We should go back.”

  “Stop it.”

  Cold wind gusts off the ocean and through the palms. Yuki clings to my arm. My teeth chatter. I glance back to make sure the doorway to my apartment is still there. We should go back and get our clothes.

  “I said stop it,” she tells me.

  “I'm not doing anything!”

  “You're doing something! I've never seen it like this before!”

  Maybe she’s the one whose dark thoughts are infecting paradise. Not likely. If it’s anyone, it’s me. “I can’t help it.”

  I take her hand. If we’re staying, we need to get inside before the storm hits. I picture everyone inside dead. What a horrible thought, but it’s just my luck for paradise to turn into a nightmare. I lead Yuki up the steps. Palm fronds thrash in the wind.

  I stick my head in the front door.

  A naked man’s side drips red from hip to calf.

  A naked woman steps around him, her hands smeared crimson. Blue handprints dot her torso like leopard spots.

  “Dip your hands,” Dawn says with a heavier Norwegian accent than usual. “Get some color.”

  “A storm is coming,” I say.

  “Let it pass.”

  Though I can still hear the wind tearing at the thatched roof, inside is warm and protected. Yuki pushes past me and presses her hands in a pan of bright blue paint. She makes two HAND PRINTS on my chest and laughs. I can't help but smile at her delight.

  Rain patters on the thatched roof, but we’re safe inside.

  I dip my hand into the cool, thick red and finger paint a heart on Yuki’s delicate stomach. I look for her approval and see it in her eyes. She dips a large paintbrush in the yellow and splatters Keith’s upper back. The paint drips down the cleft of his ass. Dawn paints a sloppy peace sign on her left breast.

  “You need balance.” I paint an anarchy symbol on her right breast in memory of Loo.

  Dawn’s blond hair sticks to the paint on her breasts, and she pulls her hair back, streaking her locks red and purple.

  Keith dips his balls in blue. We all laugh.

  Fully painted, we burst from the bungalow and out into a downpour like a marauder horde. Booming thunder rolls in the distance. I no longer fear the storm; the storm fears me. We run for the joy of it, Yuki and me hand in hand. The paint washes away into the sand. I’m so happy Yuki is here with me that I laugh and whoop at the rain.

  Now drenched (it’s not cold, but it’s not exactly warm either), we run back to the bungalow and grab towels from a pile.

  “That was exhilarating!” I say, drying myself, remnants of paint coming off on the white towels. I pull on a clean pair of BP boxer briefs, the pristine cotton comforting on my cool skin.

  The room where we painted each other has changed into a place I recognize from the BP orientation video. The models lounge around on large silk cushions. Body painting and running through the rain feels chaste in comparison to the erotic charge that permeates the air of this place, and my anxiety raises seeing all the exposed flesh. What have I gotten myself into? I need more experience with one-on-one sex before I participate in an orgy.

  The group lounges around with no such thing as personal space. I take it all in. Keith and Dawn are making out. The guys I helped with the donkey, Adam, Ben, and Garrett, pose in their underwear as if for a catalog photo. Brooke and Joe, an Oregon couple into hiking and camping, talk privately. Dan, the model on the front cover of the catalog who first welcomed me here, sees me and smiles, making me feel welcome. Joe is the only one fully naked. Brooke sits cross-legged between his legs with Joe’s arms around her.

  These people are my friends, and I don’t need to be afraid. Why have we been apart so long? It’s incredible to see them again. I want to tell them how much I love them, but I don’t need to; they already know.

  In a playful act, I let go of Yuki’s hand and throw myself down on a cushion and laugh. It’s like all my nerve endings have finally been turned on. I roll around, not caring what people think. How long have I been going through life numb? Well not anymore!

  I bump into Garrett, the biggest guy of the group, and almost say I’m sorry, but why? This is a fantasy paradise. I get up on my knees, and he matches me. Pumped up and aggressive, I push him, and he pushes me, and we wrestle like the manly men we are. He’s strong, but we’re equally matched—or he’s going easy on me—and we roll around and try to pin each other.

  It goes back and forth for a while until he grabs me around my thigh and flips me onto my back.

  “Uncle!” I laugh, worn out from all the struggling. He rolls off. Part of me doesn’t want him to. He has started to perspire from the exertion, and there is now a hint of body odor in the air.

  I wish Loo could have seen me here. She was always so worried about me being alone. My friends were just in different parts of the country, some in different parts of the world. Sadly, they’ll never have a chance to meet her. Loo was such an amazing person.

  Garrett puts his hand on my shoulder. “We wanted to express our condolences.”

  Joe hugs Brooke tighter and kisses her cheek. “If I lost Brooke here, I don't know what I’d do,” he says.

  The reality of Loo and the fantasy of here clash in my mind. Brooke can’t be lost. She can’t die. She can’t even grow old. No. These people aren’t real. No matter how it feels, they aren’t my friends. They don’t know what it’s like to lose people. To be alone.

  I stand and try to back away, but the models are all around me.

  “Yuki lost someone recently too,” Dan says from the door.

  “Is that true?”

  Yuki stands with me in the center of the room. “Tell them,” she says. “You think they won’t understand, but they will. Tell them about how close you were to Loo. Tara told me about her, about her art, about how you two worked together. It sounded like she really cared about you.”

  I shake my head. “Loo doesn’t even want me to be here.” I should face my pain in the real world, not here in some fantasy. “This was a mistake.”

  “You’re safe,” Yuki says. “I told them what I went through, and they understood. They can help you too.” She puts her arms around me and her head against my chest. “They're here for you. They won’t reject you. Don't you feel it?”

  “Yes, but—�
��

  “Then tell them. I don’t want to be the only one.”

  I hold her away by the shoulders and stare at her, searching her soft features. What do I hope to find there? She wants me to be happy, and I can’t be happy, at least not for long.

  I pull her into me. I’ve been ravenous for touch, for human care, and all this time, I’ve pretended otherwise.

  I’m not sure how, but Yuki and I are now lying on a large mattress, and I roll over and turn her onto her back and look down into her eyes, pinning her down.

  “Loo was beautiful,” I say and lay my head on Yuki's breasts. “But she was just a symbol.”

  Yuki runs her hand through my hair.

  “I barely knew her,” I say.

  The models crawl closer.

  “It's okay to feel guilty,” Dan says.

  “I don't,” I say. But I do, and I don’t know why.

  “Your foster parents died,” Dan says. “Your friends rejected you. And now Loo's gone. You want to know why you should keep trying.”

  “If you're just going to lose the people you love, what's the point?” Joe says.

  “Rugby and beer!” Adam laughs.

  “A job at a coffee shop?” Ben says. “Did that make you happy?”

  “Small talk with strangers?” Keith says.

  “Movies?” Dawn says. “I’m trying to open a gallery. Are you supposed to try just to live for art?”

  “Joe and I like to be out in nature,” Brooke says.

  “None of that means anything,” I say. “People. People are the only thing that matters.”

  “You can't lose us,” Joe says.

  “We won't die,” Brooke says. “We won't reject you, not ever.”

  Less than comforted, I pull back from Yuki onto my knees. They’re just saying what I want to hear, but God, do I want to hear it!

  Garrett hugs me from behind. I struggle, but he holds me tight. “You feel vulnerable. I know it’s scary, but it's okay. It’s okay to let people love you.” He sounds close to tears, and his emotion triggers my emotion. The feel of Garrett’s arms around me is everything I want. Feeling loved and accepted by all these beautiful, perfect people is euphoric and horribly sad.

  “You're not real. Real life doesn’t feel like this!”

  Yuki gets up and kneels before me, her expression gentle and sympathetic. “Touch me.” She looks at me with a longing that reflects my own. I stare in wonder at her vulnerability. She’s a sacrifice at my altar. With Garret still hugging me from behind, she takes my hand and puts to her chest. I feel her heartbeat. “I'm real,” she says. For a moment, we look into each other's eyes, and my breath catches.

  She has been here in this fantasy before, surrounded by all this love. Not just platonic love either, by lust and desire and ecstasy. How many of these people has she had sex with? Yet, even with all this pleasure, she has brought me here to share the experience. No matter how great fantasy is, it’s not the same as sharing it with someone real.

  Garrett whispers in my ear, “We still love you even if you think we're a dream.”

  “Kiss him,” Yuki says. “For me. Make me feel less alone in this.”

  Yuki brought me here to make herself feel better about sleeping with all these people.

  I put my head back on Garret's shoulder and let out a frustrated moan. I turn my head and nuzzle against his neck. I love his smell. His chest against my back feels real enough, strong and solid. The stubble on his cheek bristles against mine. I look around at all the hopeful faces. His lips are at my ear, and I hear the lust in each of his ragged breaths. He wants me, and I want him.

  I stand and break free from his embrace.

  “Yuki, come on.” I grab Yuki and step over the models to leave the room.

  We exit the bungalow. The storm has passed, the sky is once again blue, the sun warm on my skin. “We're not coming back,” I say.

  Yuki puts on her bra while we walk.

  “Slow down!” she says. “Stop! We'll meet at your place tomorrow. I get off at noon and we can—”

  “No! I have to go to Loo's funeral.”

  “Why?”

  I don’t know anymore. “God, a funeral when I could be here.” I hesitate and look back at the bungalow. I could have made out with Garrett. More than made out. Oh god, these people love me. Not just one or two of them, all of them. How did Yuki ever leave this place? Every part of me feels like I belong here. I could be happy.

  Yuki grabs the back of my neck and kisses me.

  It takes me a long time to notice that the tropical beach has faded away. Somehow we’re back in my living room, still kissing, making our own little paradise on the love seat.

  We stop to catch our breath. God, I want her more than the perfect people in the catalog. How did this happen? Everything is going so fast! The last time I was with a girl was Shirin and it was a disaster. It ruined a friendship that I can never get back.

  “You make this bearable,” Yuki says.

  I nod, not really understanding.

  “In that place,” she continues, “I've never felt so content. If it weren't for you, I'd never be able to convince myself to come back to reality.”

  It’s scary how much her feelings match mine.

  “If you aren't real…” she says but can’t finish. I realize she’s scared. She thinks I might be a fantasy!

  “I'm real!” I say. “No matter how good it feels in there, remember me. Think of me. I’m the one that’s real!”

  I hold her close. I’m afraid I’ll crush her, but I can’t let her go back into the catalog by herself. “After work, come straight back here,” I say. “I'll need to leave before four, so I can go to Loo's funeral, but until then, we can visit the catalog, if that’s what you want. Just don’t go back in there alone. Okay?”

  “Eric.”

  “I can’t let anything happen to you, Yuki. If something…”

  “Eric! Stop.”

  I’m still squeezing her. I loosen my hold so I can see her face.

  “Eric, I think I'm in love with you.”

  “We’ve just met.” I don’t doubt her. That’s what this rush is. I feel it too. I’ve fallen for her. God! My life makes sense now. All this pain has led me to Yuki.

  “You won’t lose me,” she says. “You know that, right? You're safe.”

  I can barely speak. “Okay.” Are we about to have sex? I’m not ready. I don’t want to mess this up. What if I’m not good?

  She kisses away a tear on my cheek. “I should go,” she says, seeming to read my mind.

  I nod. I’m overwhelmed. I can’t handle much more of this. This is all too much, too fast. It’s too good. I can’t bare being this happy.

  “Tomorrow?” I say with more doubt in my voice than I intend.

  “Tomorrow,” she says, and I let her go.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Bad Guys Close In Part Two

  15.1

  The day of Loo’s funeral, I wake rested for the first time in forever. Yuki is working right now, maybe helping customers, maybe killing time before she comes over.

  I roll around on my bed, and my skin still feels alive like it did on the cushions in the BP catalog. I’m hard and need to masturbate. There’s an urge to fantasize about getting off with Garrett while Yuki watches, but instead of pleasuring myself, I pick up my cell phone. I don’t want a fantasy to pull me accidentally into the catalog on my own.

  I call work.

  “Hi, Tara. Is Yuki there?” If I can hear Yuki’s voice, just for a moment, I can make it until she gets here.

  Tara doesn’t know who the hell I’m talking about. “Very funny,” I say. “Yuki. ... I don't know her last name. Yuki-Yuki. We work with her.”

  The second day’s footage poses more questions than answers. After repetitive video of the protesters and various pedestrians, all similar to the first day’s footage, the shot centers on Eric Loan as he runs across the street toward the camera. With single-minded focus, he maneuvers pas
t the camera, through the protesters, to the front entrance of Brief Pose. This is only Eric’s third appearance in “The Archive,” but it’s already obvious that Bram has chosen to focus on him whenever he’s present, maybe because he saw him talking to himself in the alley the day before.

  A few minutes after Eric enters BP, he comes out again, looking more distressed than before. A glimpse of him can be seen running back across the street and entering Mermaid Coffee Co. After some jostling of the camera, the shot focuses on the front windows of the coffee shop, and we see Eric and a barista, JuanCarlos, in a heated exchange, though it’s hard to make out because of reflections on the window and passing pedestrians.

  The camera turns off and turns back on. The amount of time elapsed is unclear. The next shot captures Eric running from the coffee shop down the sidewalk. At the crosswalk, Eric has to stop because of traffic. He looks back to the camera. The shot zooms in and we see Eric’s deranged, crazed expression. He charges at the camera and comes uncomfortably close because the shot is still zoomed in. The camera points to the sidewalk and stops recording.

  There’s a large gap in time before the next video in the archive.

  The nature of the confrontation between Eric and JuanCarlos is still unknown, but we do know they used to work together and that their relationship at the time was rocky. A few months before that, Eric wrote a formal complaint that went into JuanCarlos’s work file. On the other hand, JuanCarlos was also dating Tara, Eric’s new superior, so it’s possible the conflict sprung from Eric’s new work dynamic at Brief Pose. All this is of course speculation. It’s likely we will never know why Eric fought about with JuanCarlos that day or why he charged the camera. (Sartain, 70-72)

  After getting off the phone with Tara, I hastily throw on some clothes. I look in the mirror and have to change. A BP T-shirt isn’t cutting it on my day off. I need to look good for Yuki.

  The conversation with Tara plays over in my head as I traverse the city. I’m not going to run. Running means I’m worried, and Tara is just playing a prank. Times like these I wish I could use the subway.

  I maneuver past protesters to get inside Brief Pose. Don’t these people have something better to do?

  Bram tracks me. Flipping him off would be unprofessional and might get me fired. BP is all about a meticulously controlled public image.