see,
we
must
see,
there
are
considerations that must be made...perhaps she was a teenage girl, slightly older, who flirted and adored their attention.
Perhaps she took one of them off to the other side of the isle and dragged him into manhood, while the other boy waited, sick and hateful, stewing in his own jealousy.
What next? What would interest the reader most?
Those pervie sons of bitches out there waiting to read about the slippery, slimy parts of teen love in detail. Because their own miserable lives had led them down the one-way al eys of bitterness. Every goddamn one of them.
So they want the kid to pick up a rock and rush over there to find his best friend lying between her legs.
Her top off and her pink breasts heaving and misted by sweat and spray from the ocean. And the kid shrieks in his horror and humiliation at not being the chosen one. At not being the one worth loving that afternoon.
Who does he kil ? Does he smash in his best friend’s skul or does he stare down at the girl and wait...thirty seconds...a minute as she thrashes with her eyes closed...another minute until she sees him there and the light of recognition fil s her eyes?
Gray said, “She who takes vengeance on the world of the luminaries—”
I answered, “—who is set over mankind and over chaos and over spirits, queen of paradise, ruler over serpents and cherubim.”
“Who is responsible for overseeing the repentance of sinners and the growth of boys into men.”
“She who is the shining light laid over the eyes of children.”
We moved towards each other with our only purpose clearly laid out before us. Cheyenne rushed up and said, “It’s not real. It’s just a delusion you’ve shared over the years. You were boys of intense imagination. You believed in the story you told each other in the night. A story of murder and betrayal. You both need to return to the Clinic with me. You didn’t kil anyone! Neither of you kil ed anyone!”
“How do you know?” I asked.
I attacked. Gray ducked and my fist sailed over his head. He shifted and began to hammer my ribs again, but he slipped in the mud and went to one knee. I swung my wet hair out of my eyes and gave him an uppercut that lifted him onto his feet again. The women screamed and the storm thrummed again, wind tearing at the two of us. I started working his jaw.
Those new teeth real y pissed me off and I wanted to see how much they’d love him when he gave them a black smile.
He roared and the thunder resounded as he rushed me and slammed me backwards into the water. I fought for air even as he slugged me in the shal ows.
Who was dead? Who’d been buried? Maybe Eddie real y had been buried, and was stil twisting in the sand. Right here, right in this very spot.
Hel , who was even sane? Cheyenne tried to pul him off as Trudy shrieked Gray’s name. It sounded like she was urging him on. I wasn’t feeling particularly wel loved. I managed to get my knee between us and kicked out with everything I had. Gray let loose with a sharp cry and fel back a step, long enough for me to clamber out of the water. I rushed forward and tried to head butt him, but I slid and he easily evaded me. He caught one wrist and slammed an elbow into my gut, and for a few seconds I was air bound. I hit the brush hard but rol ed back onto my feet.
A goddamn fistfight. Al of our lives had come down to a brawl we could’ve had when we were fifteen and been done with for good.
Gray lunged again, fists flailing and I danced out of reach, kicking up sand. Trudy cal ed something low and harsh but adoring, and I looked over and saw her staring at me. She real y was nuts. The back of my head was alive with stories and with the sight of Jazrael’s fiery wings tipped down at both of us. Gray dove on top of me and I slammed a fist into his cheek.
We were both laughing and sobbing. He staggered back a step and I moved in again. We wove together in a ful circle and the crack of bone against bone sounded like a gunshot as he caught me with a roundhouse to the jaw.
It nearly put me out. I couldn’t beat him. He would always have what I didn’t have, and you could never defeat the man you wish you were. If you could, you wouldn’t want to be him.
Lurching backwards into the brush I managed to take off my belt in one fluid motion. Gray parted the branches and I got a clear view of his neck. Final y I was ready. I got the belt around his throat, and I pul ed with everything I had. He yelped and tugged me back onto the beach, and we wrestled wildly, shifting our weight to get the greatest leverage. How close I was.
And how wonderful it felt, to see his eyes bulging with terror and awe like that, and his fat uncoiling as he convulsed in the mud. Trudy and Cheyenne both leaped on my back. Some interest at last. One of them touched my face softly. The other had a rock and heaved it down against my skul .
13
MOVING FROM THIS SPHERE
TO ANOTHER, FOREGOING
DEVIL’S FOOD (ON THE LUNA SEA)
The work goes wel .
The novel is moving again and Monty seems to truly dig it. He sounds excited about the chances of a movie deal as wel . Whenever I cal he answers the phone himself. I don’t know what happened to Candi.
Perhaps she’s stil on the couch where I left her or she’s faded from life and melted away.
I have an appointment tomorrow with the Clinic’s dentist, to fix some of the damage Gray caused. I need an upper bridge on my left side. So does he.
He writes on his side of the cottage and I toil on mine. He’s endlessly tapping away at the keyboard until the sound is almost unbearable. I stil can’t compose on a laptop. Not much anyway. I try to keep up with him but there’s simply no way I can.
Sometimes I type out nonsensical words just so it sounds like I’m as productive as he is. Perhaps he’s doing the same thing. We could spend the rest of our lives writing gibberish simply because we can’t admit that one or the other is better. That he deserves more from life. Or I do.
“I didn’t try to commit suicide,” I tel him.
“What?”
“You said I could get a room here if I just tried to kil someone who’d done me wrong. And be so conflicted about it that I make at least one fairly dramatic suicide attempt. I haven’t done that yet.”
“There’s stil plenty of time.”
“Sure.”
“I told you coming here would be good for you.”
“Yeah, you did.”
We go back to our blind typing as the anger begins to build again. He checks me from the corner of his eye and I try to keep from smiling.
I often see Cheyenne Califa in the corridors of the Clinic. I haven’t been in group therapy with her, and I’m stil not certain if she’s a doctor or not. Perhaps Trudy actual y is my psychiatrist, keeping close tabs on us from next door. I don’t suppose it matters which one might be sane, or even if neither of them are.
The papier mâché lobsters with bright blue eyes and broad, smiling faces watch us with great intensity.
Sometimes I write horrific poems about them coming to life and climbing off the wal s to tear at me with their pincers. I real y need to rip those fuckers down, but Gray finds them calming. Of course.
A knock on the door rouses us both. We look up as one.
“Hel o, Trudy.”
“I made some brownies, apple fritters, and devil’s food cake. What would you like?”
He says fritters and I say brownies. She winks at us both and skips out the door, wiggling her shapely bottom. Lately I get the feeling she’s taken a shine to me.
There is the fluttery laughter of the graduate students playing vol eybal out in the pool.
Stil , I have friends here. I am loved, or at least pretended to be loved, which is fine with me. I play in the clear water with girls in bikinis, and I do my best to ignore the half-smoked cigarettes and butts littering the grounds.
There’s another dance coming up next weekend, and I’m thinking about invitin
g Nola to spend some time with me.
I am hopeful. I am nothing if not hopeful.
I turn and see Gray sneering at me. I reach down and check my waist and feel the empty belt loops.
That’s al right. My belt must be around here someplace.
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