The Void

by Christine Bernard

  “I’d like to welcome on the stage a very good friend of mine, and one of the best comedians I’ve ever met, Bob Store.” He’d said the name with so much ease, that he hadn’t even realized what he’d said, and when I didn’t go out, he still hadn’t realized. Someone had to push me on, and the moment he saw my face as I basically tumbled up to the front of the stage, he understood. He laughed and reintroduced me. But the damage was done. All my jokes had disappeared along with my dignity. I’d tanked that day, all my jokes as unfunny as the next, and I had never quite managed to forgive him for what he had done to me. He’d said a million sorry’s to me once it was over, and promised to get me back on again, but I hadn’t found it in myself to forgive him. The anger was probably not deserved, but all I could think about was that he still thought of me as that boring kid with the boring name.

  It was all I could think of now as I stared into the camera. Bob Store. Bob Store. Who the fuck was Bob Store?

  “Joke book time,” I said nervously as I blinked myself back to reality. Reality? This pod was not real life. PodBook was not real life. I really needed to focus. I couldn’t tank again. I was not Bob Store. I flipped randomly to a page. “Ever tried to eat a clock? It’s time-consuming.” I laughed. Funny. Funny. Funny. Elton Rigby is hilarious. “Speaking of clocks,” I said. I almost said ‘cock’ which would’ve probably sent me into a fit of laughter that I wasn’t ready for yet. Pity, because I had a lot of cock jokes. Was this the audience for it, though? Who was the audience? Focus, Elton. Focus. “My time is almost done in here, I mean with you. Not with here. I probably still have a good week to go. Time is money and all that.” What on earth was I talking about? I was no longer in control of my own mouth. “Let’s see if I can fit in one more joke.” Another random flip through the book. My hands shook, and I could only hope the camera hadn’t picked up on it. What the hell was going on with me? I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but I figured I’d just get bored. I didn’t expect my mind to take a holiday to la-la land. I was not prepared for it, and with no distractions I had no idea what to do to make it better. My headline was changing. “Want to hear a joke about pizza? Never mind, it’s pretty cheesy.” Then I stared into the camera a little too long again and mumbled something about being a comedian god, which was not quite the way I wanted to get that headline into people’s minds. I just hoped like hell that my mumbling had been incoherent.

  I got up and walked away without ‘signing out’. I should’ve gone with a cock joke. I had seriously cocked that up. I laughed a little. You see, I told myself, you are funny.

  Chapter 17

  Ryan

  I spent two nights at a nearby bed and breakfast, and time flew by. I could’ve gotten a flight back the very day I got out, but I didn’t want to go home yet. It felt too much like defeat. I lay in bed the whole first day, just watching the telly. It was ridiculous. I’d gone from one pod to another. I once read about a guy who had spent thirty years in prison, and the first thing he did when he got out was to go to a Macca’s for a burger. He then robbed the place the following day and ended up being back behind bars, but that was beside the point. I couldn’t believe that anyone would do something so mundane after getting a taste of freedom again. I had been gone six days (or five and three quarters to use Larry’s crude words), so the comparison felt a little wrong, but here I was doing very much what I had done in there. Only instead of the wall, I was watching reality shows. Same thing, really. It was the shame I couldn’t shake off. I only looked at my phone on the second day, and even then I couldn’t bring myself to get back onto social media. I wasn’t sure what was worse, not knowing what to say to everyone, or seeing all the posts I had saved to send off when I returned. I had two different posts planned, based on me either seeing the challenge through to the end—which I’d assumed I’d do—or seeing it through almost to the end. I didn’t have anything planned for not even lasting a week. I didn’t have the heart to do a video, or to smile into the camera, or to spend a few hours choosing the right photo. Fake. Fake. Fake. Fake. I was a fake. I guess I had always known that. My biggest fear had come true. My façade had come crumbling down, and it had happened in front of the whole world. No, even worse, it was still going to happen. I had no idea when the show would broadcast. How did these things even work? This wasn’t going to be like ripping a Band-Aid. This was going to be as long and painful as a trip to the dentist. And, just like a tooth extraction, I’d be left with a gaping hole where my dignity had once been.

  It was now day three, and my flight was booked for that evening. I had a long day ahead of me with nothing to do but sit and think. I didn’t want to think. I wanted to do everything except think, but the thoughts wouldn’t stop coming. The way the sweet old owner of the B&B had looked at me when I walked in, as if I was a tiny bird who had fallen from her nest. The way I had looked at myself in the mirror for the first time and seen what she had just seen. I had never seen myself look so vulnerable before. I seemed to have shrunk, except for my eyes which had grown larger. It was this image that kept coming back to me. Knowing that this was what all my friends, families, and followers were going to see when the show came out was a tough pill to swallow. I wasn’t sure what was worse, that I had failed or that some foul-mouthed annoying comedian had beaten me. Was he still there? Was this all a part of his comedy skit? Hell, at least he would finally have someone to laugh at his jokes.

  I was being mean, but I didn’t care. The guy had bothered me. He was too loud. Too crude. Too fake. Fake. Shit. I was fake. The thought brought me crashing back to reality. Did other people look at me the way I had looked at him? I reached for my phone again and typed in his name. I couldn’t remember his surname, or if he’d even told us, but it didn’t take long for me to find him. He hadn’t done anything for a while, but I managed to find one of his old videos. I couldn’t watch too long. It was…embarrassing. I sighed. If he made a fool of himself in the pod it wouldn’t really matter. The man clearly had no sense of self. Unlike me. I was far too aware of what others thought of me. I skimmed through a few articles on the guy, some good, some bad, some I was pretty sure he’d written himself. Then I turned off my phone. That was enough. I needed to get out. From the glance I’d had out the window, I was wasting a perfectly good day. Also, this was my last chance to check out the area. Soon I’d been back in good ol’ Newton, sipping coffee from the downstairs café. But not before I took the perfect photo of it. I balked. Maybe I should just throw away my phone. What I didn’t know couldn’t hurt me.

  Bessie sat in the living room by herself playing a game of solitaire, and for a brief moment I thought I had been transported back to my little pod. Was I Bessie? I snapped out of it when she looked up and smiled.

  “Good to see you up and about,” she said.

  “Uh, yeah. It’s good.” I’d lost my ability to talk to people.

  “You’re not checking out now are you?”

  “No, only later. I thought I’d go out and get some lunch. Any good places around here?”

  Bessie described a café nearby. She said it was close enough to walk to, and I supposed it was, only I took forever to get there. She’d told me that ‘with my long legs’ I should be there in ten minutes. It took me twenty-five. Time kept speeding up and slowing down. I spotted it before I saw the sign. It was the sort of place someone like Bessie would frequent. Apparently, they had the best coffee in the area. “None of those flat whites and moccachinos, and whatever other nonsense they keep coming up with,” she’d said. “It’s why I never go to the city anymore. I always end up arguing with the staff about the unnecessary new variations that keep popping up everywhere. Do you know that I saw them advertise charcoal coffee? Charcoal! Whatever for? No thank you, a regular coffee works just fine for me. Strong and simple.” I’d backed away then. Her eyes had sort of glazed over as she spoke, and the interaction had become too much for me. Seemed I didn’t want to be in the pod, but I didn’t want to be out it either.

  Th
ere wasn’t anything special about the place, but the coffee did smell good, and I drifted toward it like a cartoon character. Nose up, following the smell. The moment I sat down I was greeted with a familiar face. It was the girl from the park, the one who had known Larry. She didn’t seem to remember me, but I didn’t hold that against her. I wasn’t the most memorable guy in the world, no matter what my Instagram feed might tell you. 10,000 likes on a post does not equate to the same in real life. She bounced over to me, all smiles, a little like Tigger from Winnie the Pooh. The red hair only served to boost this image. Man alive she was pretty.

  “Oh, hey there,” she said as she handed me a menu. “Enjoyin’ the sunshine?” Her voice was just as cute as her image, so chipper I found myself smiling back.

  “I am. I’ve been stuck indoors, so it’s good to be out.”

  “Too right,” she said. “Well, let me know if you need any help deciding.”

  “Actually, I heard the coffee is really good here.”

  “It sure is,” she beamed. “We only have one kind, served one way, but we’ve had no complaints.”

  I grinned back. She reminded me a little of Bessie there, despite the age gap. “I’ll take one of those.”

  “Can I interest you in a brownie? The place is known for them.”

  “Sure, why not.”

  “Wonderful. You’ll be helpin’ a girl out. I’ve already had one of these today, and I shouldn’t have another one. I’m trying to sell them off so I’m not tempted.”

  “I’ll take two then. One now and one to go.” I figured I’d give one to Bessie and regain a bit of my depleted reputation.

  “You are a life saviour.” She gave me a strange look, then shook her head and strolled off.

  My hands immediately flew to my hair, as if I’d forgotten to wash it, and I had to resist the urge not to get out my phone to check. You know that thing you do, when you pretend you’re taking a photo of something but you’ve actually reversed the camera so you can make sure you look okay? I glanced around at the café. I had a strong suspicion nobody here had ever done something like that.

  “Here yer go,” she said as she put a heavenly smelling coffee and brownie down for me.

  “Wow, that looks and smells incredible.”

  “Oh, it is. I’ll bring your other brownie in a takeout box. Uh, I know this is weird, but you really look familiar to me. Do I know you? Or, are you famous or something? We don’t get many famous people around here. Not that I know of, of course. I’m not the most clued up with popular culture, to be honest. We once had that Friends guy, David Swimmer here and I had no idea who he was until he left and everyone told me. Oh, sorry, I’m babblin’.”

  God, this girl was cute. I didn’t have the heart to tell her it was Schwimmer. “Actually, we’ve met. Sort of,” I said. “Sorry I didn’t say anything earlier, I wasn’t quite sure myself,” I lied.

  “You met David Swimmer?”

  I laughed. “No. I’ve met you.”

  “You have? Here?”

  “At the park actually. You knew Larry. It was a few weeks ago,” I said then shook my head. “No, it was a week ago. Sorry, getting my timeframes mixed up.”

  “Of course! Hey, weren’t you wearing glasses?”

  I prayed I hadn’t turned the same colour as her hair. I had been wearing glasses that day, but they weren’t even real. I just got them because I thought they suited me. I had left them behind in the pod and had pretty much stopped wearing them on the second day—or what I had probably thought was like day five or something.

  “Contacts,” I lied.

  “I’m so glad you’re here actually.”

  “You are?”

  “I’ve been wondering where Larry has been all week. I was worried he was ill or somethin’.”

  “Oh, does he come here often?”

  “Every single day. He’s always here at 8.30 without fail. Two boiled eggs, white toast, and a cup of coffee. Like clockwork. Have you seen him?”

  “I have. Uh,” I was about to tell her about the show, but we’d signed forms about not telling anyone until the show aired. Not that it had stopped Jon from telling me. The urge to tell someone about the show, and what I had been through, was suddenly strong, especially someone as kind looking as the waitress, or Tigger as I was calling her in my mind, but I resisted. “I saw him the other day. He’s fine. Just busy. He’s working on a project.”

  “He is? Ah, I knew it. He’s smart that guy. The last time I saw him he was talking to me about neuro…uh, wait, what was it…neurotransmitters I think. Something about coffee releasing them. I don’t know now, but I always pegged him as the mad professor type you know.”

  “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” I didn’t know much about the guy, but mad professor seemed appropriate.

  “So, how do you know him?”

  “Oh, uh…”

  “You’re one of his students, aren’t ya? Is it for his new project?”

  “It’s top secret,” I said. This really was the easiest route to take right now. “Honestly, I’m not allowed to say.”

  Her eyes widened. “No way! This is exciting. Okay, well I’ll let you get back to your coffee. Do me a favour and tell Larry to pop in when he’s free again. I miss seeing him.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  I sat for a while, sipping my coffee—just as delicious as promised—and enjoying my brownie (not sure I wanted to give the other one to Bessie anymore), and reading through the newspaper that had been on the table. I felt a million years older, or that I’d perhaps transported back in time when cell phones didn’t exist, and it felt good not to spend time taking the perfect photo. I’d lost count of the amount of cold coffees I’d had because of that. When I finished, Tigger was nowhere to be found, so I paid up at the counter. As I was about to leave, I spotted her sitting in the corner reading her book, and eating a brownie. She saw me and waved me over.

  She put down her book, Jane Austen’s Emma I saw on the cover and smiled. She seemed like a classics sort of girl. “Guilty as charged,” she said as she pointed to the brownie. “I couldn’t help myself.”

  “I’ll be honest, I’m probably going to eat this one on the way home,” I said as I held up the box.

  “It was lovely to meet you. I just wanted to say good luck with that secret project. Oh, and I’m Sarah by the way.”

  “Thank you. I’m Ryan,” I shook her hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you too.”

  I walked back to the B&B a lot quicker than I had gone to the café. Sarah’s bounciness must’ve been contagious. I was still mortified about the past week, but chatting to Sarah had made me feel better. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  Chapter 18

  Jon

  Something was wrong. I was sure of it. I just didn’t know what it was, and I didn’t want to speak to Keri about it again. She had been acting strange lately, and it was hard to talk to her without the conversation moving to introspection. She was asking me probing questions, like what I really thought of her hair (I love your hair, Ke. Ha! Hair. Ke. It even rhymes), and if I ever thought about the future (Back to the future? Nah, I’m more of a present sort of guy. Live for the moment and all that), and whether I had known it was love when I saw her that first day (Well, you were bleeding profusely, so love might not be the right word. Still, I thought you were hot as all hell). Odd questions but none of my answers seemed to satisfy her, and I didn’t know what to do about it. Right now, I figured the best thing to do was to leave her alone. I knew from past experiences that Keri was stubborn, and that nothing I said or did would help. The whole thing was ridiculous anyway. Of course I loved her. Why would I be with her if I didn’t? Telling her she was good eye candy and that I’d known it even with blood gushing down her leg was not the right thing to say. I thought for sure it would make her laugh. Instead, she went off at me, telling me there was more to her than just looks. That particular argument had happened not so long ago, and she still sat fuming in the co
rner of the room. I glanced at her now, and wondered if I should console her, but there wasn’t any point. If she wanted to sulk then let her sulk. Maybe for once in my life people would see that I wasn’t the cause of all arguments.

  I desperately needed to visit the bathroom. I couldn’t remember the last time I had gone, and I’d been drinking more water than necessary. I felt hungry all the time, but Keri was so sure I was eating too much that I tried to appease her by filling up on water. It didn’t help. Man alive, why were they taking so long in the bathroom? I was going to pee myself. Keri made a funny little noise, another one of her puffs to remind me she was upset, and the sound somehow snapped me back to the reality that I was going to wait forever for that person to finish up, because there was nobody in the bathroom. There. Was. Nobody. Else. Here. A bead of sweat dripped down my face, and I wiped it off with my sleeve. Who was this imaginary person I kept waiting for? I better not tell Keri about this again. Soon she’d think I was waiting for another woman or something. Lately she twisted all my words.

  It still took me a while to make my way to the bathroom, mostly because I wasn’t sure how well my legs were going to work. I felt unstable and unsure of myself, and this lack of control was unlike anything I had ever experienced before. Still, a lack of control in my mind might be a little better than a lack of control with my bladder. That thought finally got me up, and I made it to the bathroom in record time. After relieving myself for what felt like forever (which in here could mean two minutes or two hours), I splashed cold water on my face and gave myself a little talking to. I’d always laughed at those people who said mantras to themselves every day. One of my previous roommates, during the pre-Keri days, used to sit on the bed each day and repeat: you’ve got this, you’re stronger than you think, you’re smarter than you think, you’ve got this. Over and over again. I had thought it was a joke at first, something he took offense to, of course. He hadn’t stayed with me long, but I hadn’t minded at the time. I thought he was a whack job. I’d told him, too. The day he moved out I asked him if he needed help with the boxes. He said he was fine. I replied, “Of course you do. You’ve got this. You can carry those boxes yourself. You’re stronger than you think. You’ve got this!” I never saw the guy again. Now here I was chanting something similar to myself in the mirror. The only difference was that I wasn’t sure how much I believed my own mantra.