by Brother Dash
Chase steeps in his chair like the cold tea bag in his empty mug. Questions without answers seep into his weariness. How could you let her slip away again? His eyes meander about the cafe. Couches of lovers. A grungy bleached blonde climbing up on the stage platform with a guitar case. A hijab wearing coed, in a Montclair State University hoodie, is highlighting sentences in her textbook. He sighs. He swipes the email app on his smart tab. There is one new message:
From: JMDixon@51mail…
Subject: You’re Still Chase-ing
Message:
Click Here Chase
There is no text to the email other than a link to a video. Chase taps it. A new window opens. A large black square with an arrow appears. He clicks the arrow and a video begins. It is the third video that Andrea told Jenae to play. An image of a bedroom comes into soft focus. In the forefront of the frame are bottles of skin and natural hair products. The video appears to have been recorded from on top of a woman’s dresser. It is vaguely familiar to Chase. The image of a queen bed is in clear view. After a few seconds the last woman that Chase was with, Rayne Chimes, pops into the frame. It looks as though she has just come in from the shower. Her head is wrapped in a towel. She plops herself on the bed wearing nothing but an orange and blue New York Knicks tee. She cradles a cell phone in her palm and extends her arm as if she were taking a selfie. Chase plugs his earphones into the tablet to listen. Rayne starts talking into the phone she’s holding:
“Dear video diary. Today is February 23rd. Well, I guess I should start off by saying how things went last night right? Well Diary…You know how long I’ve wanted to have a child. And you know my situation with Ilyas, my on again, off again love and how he doesn’t want to be a father. You know I’m not down with the anonymous, unnatural sperm donor either. Well last week I mentioned how my cousin Gregory had this hook up with his friend Eugene. For twenty thousand dollars I could conceive my baby the way I want, the way the universe intended, with an incredible guy by the name of Chase. Someone who’s intelligent, kind, healthy, mentally and physically fit, handsome…fine as hell actually, and just a guy who I could connect with on a deep level. And that energy would be going into that embryo. I could say to my baby… ‘Yes, I knew your father and you were conceived in love.’ Well Diary, Chase came over last night. He was so sweet and attentive and passionate. But the best thing about him Diary? He listened to me. He actively listened to my words, my hopes, my dreams. He even listened to some of my craziness and didn’t get freaked out when I got a little emotional. Chase made me feel like…like I mattered. Like I was the only woman in the world. I mean, I know he has someone else. He’s engaged to be married actually. I know that he loves her just like I love my Ilyas. But last night? Last night, we loved each other. And hopefully I’ll have something special to remind me of Chase forever and ever. Until next time Diary…this is your girl signing off until next time…Rayne.”
The clip ends. Chase drops his head to the table. What? That makes no sense. I left that bear on the floor in the living room…how could…wait, wait, nooo…nooo…I remember now. I know the perfect place for it, she said. She must have put it on her bedroom dresser that next morning after I left. That was her perfect place. Andrea’s sneaky ass must have kept on recording. Chase shakes his head. He returns to his email and hovers over the reply button. As he debates whether to type a response to Jenae, the grunge singer starts playing a chord. It sounds vaguely familiar. It's an acoustic version of She's Gone by Hall and Oates. Chase decides instead to close the tablet and gather the files Jenae left for him. He dons his jacket and leaves the café.
The crisp breeze is like a cool splash on warm skin. He walks to his silver Honda in the middle of the block and pops the trunk. He places Jenae’s research inside a box next to his brown leather bag. He stops to think. He reaches inside his bag, pulls out a laptop, and closes the trunk. He circles back to the cafe. The grunge girl is finishing up the last verse to the Hall and Oates tune. Chase sinks into one of the empty lounge chairs. He flips the cover on the thin silver laptop and double taps a document on the desktop titled, Memoir. The screen fills with text. The bottom corner reads: Page 276. Chase selects all of the text in the document. He takes a breath, pauses, and drops his index finger on the DELETE key. All pages deleted. Bottom corner reads: Page 1. He nods with a smile. A thin black cursor blinks on and off like the caution light of an intersection. It waits patiently for a command. Chase takes a deep inhale, followed by a quick, breathy release. He cracks his knuckles, curls his fingers above the black keyboard, squares his gaze on the screen and types the following:
Chase Archibald: I Die At The End
A Memoir
by
Tevarus Huxley
  
Thank You For Reading