by Mark Lingane
Damien sat bolt upright. “Why Judy, this is a surprise. I was just thinking about you.” Not such an unlikely coincidence since he thought about her most of the day every day.
“I want to see you. I have something to ask.”
Damien jumped out of his chair. This was it. He knew she was going to tell him she was leaving her husband to come and live with him. She wanted to pledge her undying love to him and, of course, wanted him to pledge his love to her. He knew it. A string section stirred in his heart and played a sweeping melody.
“Sure,” he said trying to sound calm. “Where shall we meet?”
“I’ll take you to dinner at the Adeline.”
“The Adeline!” he squeaked. The most exclusive restaurant in town. Famed for couples finding true love. The Adeline. She wanted him there? He couldn’t believe it. “That’s kewl,” he squeaked in a lower octave.
“Great. I’ll meet you there tomorrow at eight. OK? And Damien …”
“Yes?”
“It’s really important. So please be there.”
Right, he thought to himself. I need a gift to present to the lovely Judy. He checked his pockets and his small piggy bank. Hmm. No money, so buying something was out of the question. He would have to give her something that meant something.
He paced around the room, thinking. After several laps he stopped and slowly smiled. He turned around and his eyes fell upon a section of the floor on which stood a pedestal on which stood a glowing tube, which, in turn, supported the prized dual overdrive docking desktop oscillator glowing eerily in the half-light. He went over to it and knelt down in front of the shrine. His eyes wandered over its sleek form. His hand caressed the top of the box. The green haze from the neon light surrounding it fell deep into his eyes and made him feel at peace.
He pondered his plan once again and confirmed his decision. He reached up and gave it a gentle pat. “I knew you’d come in handy one day.”
The atmosphere was its usual self in the pub. It had been a good day so it was feeling quite relaxed. Joshua sat on his stool and for no apparent reason spun himself in a circle and went, “WeeeeEEEEeeeeeeEEEEeeee.”
Pete gave him a look that had dust and cobwebs on it.
“What do you want?” said Joshua.
Pete looked puzzled. “Aren’t I supposed to say that?”
“Oops. Sorry. Right you are. Carry on, good man.”
“Been a long day, has it?”
“Very. And speaking of long …”
“Yes,” Pete said in his I’m-sure-there’s-a-play-on-words-coming-up-soon tone of voice.
“… make mine a cool one.”
The hands of the clock wound on.
Joshua had slouched forward onto the bar and was intently watching his hat. It made no sudden movements, and possibly could be arrested for loitering. The hat would probably want to have its day in court. The police would be involved in some obscure way. Some internal corruption would be unearthed, and it would all end up in a loitery commission. Some chance. Knowing his luck, he wouldn’t be able to get the hat off, and it would be stuck there for years. Hats were important. They told the world who you were.
“I wish I was better,” he mumbled.
“I thought you was the best,” said Pete. “You keep tellin’ me that. After you’ve had a couple, mind you.”
“I am. Especially after I’ve had a few. But I wish I was better.”
“You know, if you think like that all the time then can the best ever be good enough for yourself?”
“The price you pay for being the best is always being the best. It’s the balance and the test of the thing.”
“Yeah, but who judges what’s best?”
“I suppose it’s the god inside yourself.”
“You’re not going to start talking about bins again.”
“Bins?”
“Yeah, like the other day. You were talkin’ ’bout lots of bins.”
“Was I? Most probably inspired by your own ones here.” Joshua looked around the room. “Hey, isn’t it bin day today? What are they doing inside?”
“I’ve bin busy, and I only just got in m’self.”
“What were you doing today?”
“Paying my respects to me parents.”
“Where are they?” Joshua said, raising himself up on to an elbow.
“They’ve gone to a better place,” Pete said mystically, his eyes looking at some far-off point visible only to him and the taxman.
“The country?” queried Joshua.
“No.” Pete was slightly annoyed that the atmosphere had been ruined. “They’re dead.” He was sure Joshua did this on purpose. He crossed his arms and glared at Joshua.
Joshua raised himself up onto the other elbow. “How do you know it’s a better place? Been there, have you?”
“Of course not. But it’s got to be better than here, doesn’t it?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I think good things are where you want to find them.”
Pete raised an eyebrow, the universal code for pull the other one, chum. It’s got bells on it.
“I think you’ve got to want good things,” Joshua said, “and once the desire exists good things turn up of their own accord.”
“What? How does that happen, then?”
“I think your mind becomes receptive to the possibilities.”
Pete raised the other eyebrow, making him look like a clown.
“Look at it this way,” Joshua said. “Say your fridge dies. You think to yourself, gosh, I better get another one.”
“You betcha. Can’t run a hotel without a fridge. Beer’d go all warm, and all the clients would complain.”
Joshua pushed on. “And next time you look in the paper there are ads everywhere for the little buggers.”
“Ads for clients? I ain’t seen any add to buy clients ever.”
Joshua looked at Pete as if he were terminally stupid. He knew Damien would complain, stating that there were many terminals these days with the capacity for high intelligence and should take their rightful place in society at large. But then Damien was mental.
“It’s not that the fridge companies have all got together and said, ‘Hey, there’s anudder sale ’ere if weez quick.’ And you don’t think: Look! All this effort for me! They’re there all the time, it’s just our minds aren’t receptive to them.”
“And this works, does it?”
“Don’t know, my mind’s never been open to the idea.”
Pete roared a hollow and unfunny laugh, stopped abruptly, and left Joshua to his drink.
Joshua looked around the room soberly for the first time—ever. He noticed the terrible paint scheme hidden below the internal smog, and the plants, which had seen better days. Well, they had never seen better days, just smoke-filled nights, which was the problem. He had never paid much attention to other things that went on in here. He came to drink and forget.
The other inhabitants looked like they were here for the same reason. However, Joshua spotted, in a dark corner, one who looked slightly out of place. There sat a woman in a smart, dark gray dress sipping on a martini or whatever women like her drank. He thought she looked attractive in a high-cheekbone kind of way, and she was smoking a cigarette quietly and listening to old tunes on the jukebox with her eyes closed. She looked thin and would probably be quite tall. She had a blond bob.
A couple of drinks later Joshua plucked up the courage to go and talk to her. She was trouble with a capital T but he was ready with a capital R. He felt like he was standing in a pool because of a small p. He tried to walk as steadily as he could; his head light and mouth ready. He pulled out a chair and placed it next to her table and calmly sat with all the usual grace of the psychotically scared male.
She opened her eyes, and their gazes locked together. Her eyes, he would remember them for a long time. His eyes, she would remember them for the rest of her life.
[]~$mkdir alt.reality
Colors …
“Do
you know I dream of you always? When I escape from the world at night my moments are colored in by your vision. In a dark and hopeless world that we create and maintain around ourselves, you are my light. You give me hope and belief. I know there is a way. Hold me tight; there is something I want to give you. At the end of the day we all die. To live in a world where we wrap ourselves in fears and barriers that destroy the precious and, above all, brief time that we can share in happiness is beyond belief. We prevent ourselves from living or make it too easy for others to distract us from the one gift that we are all given. Let me be the one who shines with you. I love you. That’s all I wanted to say.”
Silence.
“And I love you.”
The vision faded from Joshua’s mind and memory, slipping into the night and leaving him with the strong feeling of coming home.
[]~$del history
[]~$reality reboot
She glanced at him sideways. “Hello, stranger,” she said.
Her voice was low and husky and reminded him of angry conversations, long-forgotten nights, and something very intense. He wanted to grab hold and never let her go and be trapped in an eternal moment of belonging.
She took another drag on her cigarette. “Are you the strong quiet type?” she said when he didn’t answer. She took another draw on her cigarette.
“No, just nothing much to say,” he replied.
“Seems to me like an odd way of conducting a conversation. Do you often sit next to people and not talk to them?”
“I was hoping I could sort of make it up as I went along.”
There was no reply. She just drank and smoked.
“Winging it, as it were.” He was refusing to let her get the upper hand. “Seeing if any witty banter was forthcoming.” He gave in.
She ashed her cigarette in the ashtray. “I get the picture, big boy.”
“So what’s a dame like you doing in a joint like this?”
“Dame?”
“I only say dame when I’m stuck in the middle of a detective-noir parody.”
“You can quit the accent. Hey, there’s more than one person here in this joint who wants to forget.”
“It seems to me that maybe a dame like you wouldn’t have too much to forget,” he said.
“Maybe there are some people in this world who don’t treat women too good. And maybe there are some people in this world who are stupid enough to keep going back when they should know better. Maybe.”
“Yeah, but maybe there are some people who … oh, forget this. It seems to me that you’ve got a problem with forgiving rather than forgetting.”
“What’s the point of drinking to forgive?” she said. “Kind of loses its meaning, if you ask me.”
“At least it would do you good. Anyone who’s drinking to forget is still too attached to the past. You can only forget when you have forgiven. The ties are still strong to whatever has been, or still is.”
She recognized the question. “Has been,” she said. “Or perhaps I was waiting for the right one to be available and notice me. You are a perceptive man, Mr. …”
“Richards.”
“Mr. Richards. But maybe you think a little too much for your own good.”
“Maybe.”
“I like a man of action.” She blew a puff of smoke into the air.
“Do you? I would say that you’re trying to forget a man of action.”
“You should stop being so perceptive, Mr. Richards. It’ll take you places you don’t wanna go.”
“They say life is a journey,” Joshua said in his mock-mystic role. “They never said it was comfortable.”
She smiled at him.
“You know, I don’t think I have seen you around here before,” he said.
“I would say your mind wasn’t open to seeing me before.”
“Oh look, you seem to have finished your drink. Would you like another one?”
“What’s the cost, Mr. Richards?”
“There is no cost, Mrs. …” Joshua left the sentence hanging.
“Ms.,” said Ms.
“Ms.?” Joshua found his internals winding up.
“Ms. Marianne. And there is always a cost.”
“Ms. Marianne,” Joshua let out a huge internal sigh. “The cost shall be a couple of dollars.”
“I do believe that I could put up with that for tonight,” informed Ms. Marianne.
“What would you like then?”
She stubbed out her cigarette in the humorously shaped ashtray and turned to face him. “Maybe you could pick something for me.”
“Maybe.”
With that he got up and went to the bar. He ordered two drinks from Pete, whose eyebrows were having a desperate time trying to break some kind of world record. His elbow also wanted to be part of the action. Joshua returned to the table, which was empty. Had he expected anything else? Maybe. He smiled and drank both drinks.
The jazz band was very good. Its music flowed from the stage over the dance floor. The mellow music drove the dancers together, couples making the most of body-to-body contact, as was a pickpocket, who was having a very good night.
The music caressed the ears of those who listened at the small and private tables scattered around the darkly lit room. The room itself was intimate and each table was set in such a way so that it was nearly impossible to make eye contact with anyone else, including the waiter, which was possibly why it took an hour to get served. The tables were so small that those seated at them might as well have been dancing.
The two sat at the table in an uncomfortable silence. Damien sipped an expensive and suggestively named cocktail. Judy drank bottled water and strangled her napkin beneath the table.
Finally Judy said, “Look Damien, I suppose you’re wondering why—”
“Judy, I’ve made you something. From me to you.” He reached under his seat and pulled out a small package in plain wrapping and handed it to her.
She took it suspiciously and opened it. Inside was something amazing.
“It’s a clock in the shape of you, made up of all the things I have, including the—”
“Dual overdrive docking desktop oscillator.”
“Yeah. But I had to pull it apart to get the right bits. I never used it anyway. Well, not much.” He laughed nervously.
Judy lowered her head.
“Now, what was it you wanted from me?” He smiled, radiating intense happiness.
Judy spoke slowly, disbelieving what had happened. The electronic sculpture was marvelous but … “Theo, my husband, is not well and it hurts me to see him in such pain. Anything I could do to ease it, or to make him happy, I would do.”
“But?” Damien said, hoping.
“No, there are no buts. He’s a tinkerer as you are. And for something that he’s currently building he requires a dual overdrive docking desktop oscillator. There’s only one in town. There was only one and it was yours. I wanted to talk so I could offer to buy it from you.”
Damien had been smiling before but, as the weight of the words and actions sunk in, the smile faded. That was it. He knew there was nothing to say and his hopes had been completely dashed. Why, honestly, would she even think about him? What could he offer? He had just been kidding himself, and he knew it too well.
He stood up and took his coat. “I … have to go.” His voice was choked.
Judy was left sitting alone at the table. She felt sorry for him, but what could she do? She was married, happily come to think of it, but that sculpture was phenomenal. She knew how much the oscillator meant to Damien and how proud he was of it. He had destroyed it for her. She turned around the beautiful creation in her hands and bit her bottom lip.
The phone rang and Joshua reached out for it. “Howdy diddly-do.”
There was a barrage of tears down the phone line. Joshua had never heard sobbing so intense. “Hello,” he said. “Who’s speaking or whatever?”
“It’s me,” sobbed the voice.
“Damien? Is that yo
u? What in blazes has happened?”
“She doesn’t love me, and I was so sure she did. I thought she was going to ask me.”
“What are you talking about? Ask you what? Come on now, breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth. I am the breeze. I am the breeze. Oh, just calm down and breathe before you pass out. Who are you talking about?”
“I can’t believe it,” Damien sobbed.
“Are we talking about Judy here?”
There was a wail down the line, which Joshua took for an affirmation. “But you always thought that,” he said. “Didn’t you?”
“Well, there was always hope.” An uncontrollable burst of sobbing came down the phone line.
“Breathe, Damien. Breathe.”
“She called and said she wanted to meet me to tell me something important. I thought she was going to tell me she wanted to leave her husband and come with me.”
“Damien, let’s think seriously about this.”
“I can’t take this anymore. I’m going to kill myself. I can’t live in a world where I can’t have her.”
“Damien. You’re not handling this well. Don’t do anything stupid. Look, it’s just not the right time yet. You have a future and you’re above this.”
There was another uncontrollable torrent, which went on for a long time. Joshua had to hold the phone away from his ear.
“Damien, listen. Work with me here. Just calm down. Are you calming down? Think: I am the breeze. I am the breeze. Come on help me here. You’re overreacting. Killing yourself will not achieve anything.”
The tears seemed to be under control.
“Anyway, if you killed yourself, who would look after your dual overdrive docking desktop oscillator?”
14
THE MORNING CAME AND the phone rang again. Joshua thought about not paying the phone bill.
“ ’Ello.”
“Hello. Is that a Mr. …” there was a pause “… Richards? That’s Richards, is it?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re a private investigator?”
“On good days, yes.”
“Ah, good. I have this problem. You see, I got this situation down here at—”
Joshua interrupted him and did something he had never done before. “Look. I’m really sorry but I’m absolutely flat out at the moment and I can’t possibly take on any more work.”