by Sandy Masia
“Yes,” despite my beliefs I answered.
“You have ticked quite a lot of things here. What interests me the most is the suicidal thoughts. Can you talk about that and what brings you here specifically?”
I stared outside at the world a bit (from up here and my imaginative eye) , tapping into the thin nature of reality, my emotions and my thoughts. Then the undeniable sense I am floating captured me.
“Anything specific you would like to share?” she repeated.
“Cheryl, it’s the wrongness of it all. I feel it. It’s rotten cheese, I’m not the mould but they are. This reality is a curtain, one we can’t see, touch or smell. It’s lurking deceptively so. It’s not steel, it’s more of a phantom. You can hear, in fact feel it, that there is another level of reality. It’s like I am a fish wriggling in the net, only this time I’m confusing it for home. It’s suffocating.”
3
Nothing is ever what it is, nothing is ever just. It is not what it is for its own sake, or purely for being. It has a life and meaning that is never linguistic, emotional or spiritual. There was a god among us raping existence to the finish, it’s true manifestation. An enigma that binds us so tightly. Knots and cuffs that free us.
Macfearson drew his sword. “I’ll cut her into pieces if you let her ruin this for us.”
Macxermillio stopped in his tracks.
“There is something different here I feel it. It’s not the same. If we keep on listening to her we won’t see this through,” Macfearson spoke at Macxermillio.
“But we are here because she told us to come here. This woman you hate is the reason we are here. Maybe she knew we would find something here. Maybe she is with us. Isn’t that the reason we started this all along?” Macxermillio responded, his palm on Macfearson’s shoulder now.
“You came here with a different purpose. On her terms. I made you see what you couldn’t have seen. I opened your eyes to the prize! I took you off the sort of rubbish she has been feeding you. Can’t you see what she is doing to you too? It’s like you are brainwashed or some shit.” Macfearson flicked Macxermillio’s arm off and moved back.
“Fears-”
“Shut up!” Macfearson pointed the tip at his throat. “You see that tone you are using with me? Don’t do that, okay? I know what I am doing. This is for your own good. Don’t talk to her. Make her leave. Just make her go. You hear that, Sandy?”
I nodded, quite unsure. Flew a glance at Macxermillio who turned out useless, this did not suit him at all. He was still muddled with shock and confusion, so was I.
Cheryl still waiting on me spoke again, “If you can’t go through with this or it is too much for you, you don’t have to do it.”
“Hey! She fuckin’ leaves. We can have her say no more than two lines or I kill this bitch!” Macfearson grunted a whisper.
What do you think will happen? I thought.
I considered. “I am okay.” I told her. “It’s just something else. Me and this girl I just met are having quite a good time I must say, Cheryl. This wasn’t a bad idea at all. Kim is awesome. Thank you.”
I faked a smile and wiped my tears.
She nodded, and looked as if to go, not quite certain what to make of this. “Okay,” did not sound convinced. She pointed as if to say she will be around and I can reach her if I needed anything. “Kim?”
“Yes. It’s working.”
“Okay.” she sighed, looked around and left.
4
“Sorry I took long,” it was more than a courtesy. Kim sat herself and took a sip from her drink. She leaned forward, cocking her head back. Her luscious neck exposed.
How delicate and beautiful.
I sat shut, gazing at her collar bone. Her skin looking like it’s bathed in oil, so tender and moist but not messy. She got messy with patrons but she was not a mess. She made mess but she was not messy. No, not at all. I began to drool over what it would be like to press my thumb right there and dig into the base of her neck. She swirled like something delicate and weightless in the wind … a curtain. She was an impression of an exaggerated slow motion sexy shot from one of those lifelings’ music videos. Her name is Kim and she made me bleed ashes, not my kryptonite, but my something?
“You know,” She flashed a smile, the kind you only gave to a friend , “ I had a revelation.”
“While in there?”
“Yeah.”
“Isn’t it dirty and loud in there all the time? How on earth did you get the chance to even have one?”
“Besides all the mess.” she giggled, she clasped her hands together, eager to tell.
“You know what my favourite room is in a house ?”
She shook. “No. What?”
“The toilet,” I laughed.
“Why ?”
“For that moment you are alone and in your little world. No distractions and pure privacy. You let go and you just become. You have all the monologues and can actually come up with some good ideas. For a moment you don’t feel like you are here in this world. Like everything else.” I paused. “But there is fear , you know.”
She nodded. “What fear?”
I paused for a moment. “Getting out there.”
The image of my home toilet door appeared to me.
She looked puzzled. “Why ?”
“It’s a sanctuary of a sort I guess.”
She leaned back and glanced at her drink which was now full. “Should I be scared?”
“Well that depends,” Macfearson grunted, “On some little thing we call the calling.”
“Our compass to other worlds,” I whispered.
“What? I didn’t get that ?” Kim replied.
“What was your revelation?”
“Um, you know how people are right?”
Oh fuck yeah…
“Living like there is tomorrow. Making most of our present and shit. We party, fuck, fight and fall in love senselessly. Basically we are like animals.”
“Yeah.”
“Have you tuned into the radio recently?”
“Yeah, long time ago.”
“Why?”
“Because I think it’s shit. The music sucks.”
“Right!” She nodded enthusiastically. “The music is just about sex, booze and partying your life away, like that’s all that matters. This generation is the party-yourself-senseless generation because there is no meaning to anything. Because of how we have chosen to live, our lives have no substance to them anymore. You know why?”
“Why ?”
“How many times have you been told the world will end? That is the answer. We think this is the end. Or perhaps it is near. You will never know when it could, it could be any time. So why make a piece of music, art or literature that will be epic, monumental and classic? Why do anything that has prolonged meaning anyway? Something to surpass the times. It won’t last, it will be over today or tomorrow. Why stay in this marriage? Why go to church? Why love? Why go to school? Why raise a family? Why hope? Why dream?”
“So everything is justified?”
“Everything goes.”
“Is that what you believe? “
“It’s what I am subjected to.”
I glanced at my henchmen. Their attention drawn away as if the sword incident never happened. I could only imagine what thoughts were going through their heads. Macfearson the most.
What is she? Is she a lifeling? I think she feels the state of decay her world is in like us, but yet she blends in with this world regardless. How could she see what we see and lives like she lives? It does not make sense at all. She is with me in this bubble and at the same she dwells in the same shroud that separates us. I feel something when I am here with her, cosmic transcendence and twirled with belonging. She can’t fake this. I think I know what’s to be done if she is a deathling, she will help us … it seems like she knows something I don’t. If she is a lifeling, isn’t she a perfect sample? But what is this other almost mind-altering emotion I feel, she is radiat
ing to me? . What is this “thing”?
It was not surprising to see Macxermillio and Macfearson become uneasy.
Is she the key?
“What? What do you think would be the solution?” I inquired.
“Getting rid of the end.” Kim replied, a grin on her face.
“Why?”
“A finished painting imposes meaning. It’s meaning can be relished in seconds and forgotten. Once a main character of a story has reached his goal, killed the big villain, saved the city or married the girl he wanted his story is no longer interesting anymore. We could interpret differently, talk about it differently but it matters no more because it has ended.”
“I see.” I nodded.
“If the world needs a solution it will come from those things that never end. Not things that last forever but unfinished things. A story that is unfinished. Now that’s more interesting. It allows for wonder, imagination and curiosity. People are left with questions that it does not answer for them. Now they have purpose and create meaning from that which is unresolved. That is better than any great piece of art because it’s a mystery. Mystery is the best gift you could give to this generation, something that haunts them and compels them. It’s things that never end that give utmost meaning to life. Maybe Christianity is one such story. What the fuck happened to Christ?”
I sat silent, taking it all in.
“I’m not saying there isn’t real art in the world. There is, but it hasn’t reached its potential yet. If it’s meaning and purpose we need as the lost generation it will come from that.”
“I see.”
She took swig of her drink and sat back. “You wanted to know the story of my life.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I will tell you the version that never ends. Maybe that will answer your questions.”
Chapter 11
1
The raindrops pelted the window like miniature mountains. Rivers went down the pane, rivers from a deluge. By then the bar would be filling up, nothing held the Scarletons from partying but today was unique.
Macfearson awoke from his brooding. “I think I know what is happening here or why it is happening. I see it now.” He had scuttled Macxermillio to a booth by one of the windows. After minutes of staring into empty air these were his first words followed by an eerie pause of the same magnitude.
Macxermillio waited impatiently, eager to finally get rid of his own speculations. He leaned forward from across the table and nodded on encouraging Macfearson can carry on.
Macfearson looked about the bar and fixed his surgical gaze on Kim and I. “I think this situation is orchestrated. Not that it is staged in any way but that something is manipulating this situation for a purpose.” He sighed. Macxermillio’s reserved nature was greatly appreciated by the break, allowing Macfearson to draw his thoughts together and weave them into a more credible web that did not only make sense to him but to his henchmen as well. The process was a delicate one, like any underdeveloped idea. He could lose it at a moment’s distraction like a very good idea extinguished at its infancy by short term memory loss. That was a frown of man who was working hard to make sure that does not happen. He did not wince in pain, he did so to contain himself. The worst distraction then would have been one that comes from his own impulsive mind.
“The calling is always telling us to commit suicide, when we refuse we become so frustrated we sample people out of fear of the unknown .” Fear was never the word we used. We just wanted to be certain about what we getting ourselves into. The calling gave us clues and tips we just needed to verify our suspicions. “The calling never tells us anything when we ask, except maybe ask that we trust it or just do as it wishes. I believe that the calling has wanted to communicate with us, but not by words. What are words and explanations anyway, the calling is trying to reach out to us in more powerful ways that gives us an experience and inject it into our conscious experience immediately. Do you get it?”
Macxermillio felt the venom. “Are you saying that – wait, how did you come to this conclusion ?”
“We always doubted the calling to an extent, haven’t we?”
“Yeah?”
“As soon as we went to the therapist the urges became stronger. I believe that was sign. I can’t tell you what but I believe it was for somethng. When we were about to come here the crop revealed itself to us in a vision or something. We were there and it was real as you are in front of me here. I believe the calling did that. And I believe that right here in this place with Kim the calling is trying to tell us something we have missed all along. Macx, there is an answer here, in this conversation with her and I feel like we are missing it. We may never get it back if we miss it.” Macfearson took in a deep breath. “The calling may be using her to communicate with us and guide us to the crop. You felt something didn’t you?”
Macxermillio reluctantly replied , “There is an odd feeling I won’t deny that.” His tone embroiled with doubt.
“We should be very attentive of what she says or said, not only that but observant as well. I was wrong about her being a sample. There is something about the way she speaks and this new revelation she just had. It is no coincidence,” Macfearson said.
“What other reasons do you have to believe this?”
Macfeasron closed his eyes trying as much as possible to gather and formulate his syrup of perceptions in a way that Macxermillio could taste in full and appreciate his view. The web of thoughts had collapsed though, it was hard to revive it in a way that did not only make sense to him but could be conveyed.
What is it am I saying that is not right? How can I put this in motion and make him understand? It is very crucial he does. Damn it! I always seem to be bad at explaining things. He is the genius he should get it, he thought.
There used to be time when they understood each other as if they shared the same mental field, now he wouldn’t tell you what happened or why when it is needed the most it did not come back.
“Macx, it is not something I can’t fully explain to you. You just have to experience it. Look, the vision was a preparation for what is coming. Now Kim is the second instalment of that message. Do you feel the calling pressing down at your hand right now?”
“No.”
“Obviously we are doing something right. We are getting closer to the crop. Kim is not a lifeling at this point… nor is she a deathling. She is now a servant. The calling can’t talk to us directly to address our questions but at least we have something. I feel it so strongly and perhaps in time you will,” Macfearson said. Then without his authority, his tongue added, “Our salvation depends on it.”
They came out with such conviction that a glaze appeared in Macxermillio’s eyes, perhaps finally getting it.
“How much money do you have with you?” Macfearson asked.
Macxermillio looked at him as if Macfearson was an impolite stranger. In way a lot had changed and the man in front of him had surpassed him, maybe not in knowledge or mastery but insanity. For a while he did not say anything, his mouth gaping.
“I don’t imagine we have much time with her,” Macfearson indicated with a nod.
Macxermillio firmly shook his head. “I have a hundred bucks at least.” Still maintaining a reluctant gaze.
“Good, good,” Macfearson’s tone enthusiastic and nervous at the same. He ruffled his hair in vain. “We should tell him to extend our time then. Maybe another thirty minutes?” his voice was bearing an elevated desperate edge.
Macxermillio shook his head. “No.”
“What?” Macfearson frowned.
“No, I don’t wanna be part of this one. I don’t know what the heck you think you see but I don’t see it. I’m not with you on this?”
“What?” Disbelief and shock the subject of Macfearson’s frown.
“Have you and Sandy been popping pills or some shit?”
“What?”
“Where is your vocabulary, deathling?” Macxermillio shouted. With the music a
round it wasn’t as frightening as it could have been, but since Macxermillio was not the kind that shouts it made an impression. Surprise and shock provoking.
“What the fuck?” Macfearson muttered. “What the fuck?”
“Look at me, dopey!” Macxermillio demanded.
Macfearson did, seeing his face might help him swallow the pill.
“You threatened me with a weapon today all because you were feeling something about her. All you have been talking about are just hunches and theories and nothing more. Why the hell put all our money on it? Sounds all the same to me. There is still no reason to trust the calling whatsoever. It is Satan tempting Jesus in the wilderness situation. It is enticing us. This is what it wants to go off course. If it has possessed Kim a little well that is fine, but we not gonna be led astray. You fucktart!”
“But this is it !” Macfearson protested. “It is different. The vision had a different vibe Sandy saw it too.”
“Why the hell should we mess up an opportunity on something so vague?” Macxermillio spluttered, not in the manner he usually spoke - fierce and confrontational.
Macfearson inhaled and as he exhaled his words were swallowed at infancy as soon as his mind nimbly warned him how terrible a response it would be. How ridiculous would he sound. That is the last thing you want to do when you want to convince someone, but this was not just someone. It was Macxermillio.
A first fight with a friend is always the most harrowing when you have spent years with them without ever having one. Your guard is literally down. You have not paid much attention to their strengths and weaknesses so that come a time for a quarrel you will have devised enough strategies to carry you through. Why do so anyway? After all you are not going fight. It is blasphemy to even consider the possibility of it, in fact you cannot imagine it because there is never going to be a serious fight. Yes, there may be arguments and disagreements but those are never really like a fight. In arguments people do not make personal attacks and speak at such dark and fierce tones. At least not Macfearson’s friend Macxermillio. This was double impact, an argument and a fight at once. That is how it felt for Macfearson, Macxermillio was continuing to reject him and belittle him. The words which darted out of Macxermillio’s mouth and in the manner in which they did made a pretty conclusive case for him.