The Unlicensed Consciousness

by Travis Borne

  Many at the bar area noticed once again. Rab shook his head vehemently to destroy the feelings, to wipe his messy slate, to shake the lump-that-was-a-brain inside his skull. “Fuck—I’m here to unwind,” he said, audibly once again, and walked away. People moved aside as he stormed to the bar. Realizing he didn’t much care what they thought he was largely dismissed; clubbers went on sucking face, guzzling beers, and hiding all-out sex in ways only a borrachón could.

  Jon watched him from the dance floor; and Jodi noticed Jon. She knew he had a very special bond with his friend.

  Jon was having a great time with her and thought how some things never change, but this wasn’t the case right now. Wondering about Rab as he saw him walk hastily to the bar, thinking how his friend was different, changed, how things could never be like they once were: when they partied seven days a week and things were completely insane, and great; when they almost got their asses kicked for using a college kid’s head as an ashtray from that tier right over there; when Rab had gotten taken to jail for protecting his friends and vice versa; the stupid things. Back then they lived and explored, pained and died laughing together; all until Rab began experimenting with the hard stuff and became obsessed. But he’d always taken things to the extreme, so the inevitability of the end of the era, was always unavoidable.

  Rab ordered a Blue Hawaiian and walked to one of the overlooks that had a single empty round table: one he liked, almost never empty, but most were dancing by now. It was a booth with a curved, thinly-padded couch wrapped in the usual: that nasty faded velour, once purple but long since faded, and tainted with the pale hue of puke. One level down from the bar, and somewhat private, it was surrounded by its own two-foot-tall rock wall. A good place as any to stand. He stared at the dance floor below, reminiscing over the sweet smooth coconut flavor of a drink he hadn’t had in years; its sugar was salvation. His mind, holding steady, was back in place—for now.

  Then he saw her.

  29. Ana

  He mated eyes with her. She was skinny, almost bony, the tallest within her group of two others and looked somewhat out of place. Her hair was nearly shaved on the sides but long on the top. She wore short straggly cut-off shorts and a tiny lime-green top. She looked at him almost bashfully with her head tilted to his right.

  The universe granted them a moment, stopping time, and their gaze was a switch that shut the world down. She stood with her still-dancing friends who started glancing about to locate what had stolen her attention so suddenly, and they tried to shake her out of it. Rab put it all together and knew—this was it. The odd feelings tapped him like a million fingers. His mind snapped at the precipice like a supernova clap of certainty: from here on out my life will be forever different.

  He trusted the gift, now, realizing it emanated from the deepest trench of his subconscious, not the forefront of his mind. His awake and ever-contemplating consciousness could never receive such a wonder, clues to the result of a trillion to the billionth possibilities.

  Then, he lost her. He scanned the club but she was gone. He looked right, left, to the stage. Maybe she just went up to the bar? A bad feeling arrived like a rolling fog and his thoughts began to race—and everything else slowed. The rapid difference shocked him; he’d just finished putting his mind back together—now this. Not again, he worried, trying to keep calm. He saw her friends, two shorter girls dancing and laughing—as if she’d never even existed. It was only in my mind, he thought. Everything. All of it, only in my mind. No gift, I’m just crazy!

  Any base of reality he possessed, crumbled. Sweat descended his face and the speakers spit white jagged sparks that moved like the fingers of a witch sending a curse. The two girls looked at him and pointed and mocked, louder and louder. Their laughs turned into hollow echoes. He jerked his head to the side and back, then they too were gone. The beat of the rap music playing got harder, like punches to the back of his neck, and the tempo sped up then slowed repeatedly as if the DJ was having sex on the record, and things got bright.

  “No, not again,” he whispered to himself, trying to climb out. A vision appeared in his thoughts—himself in a straitjacket, a white-padded room, a bloodshot eye in the peephole. It winked. It stared him down. He could feel the hatred coming from it like gamma rays frying his bones. Another wink; slow motion and he waited an eternity for it to open—vertical and yellow, the eye was that of—NO!

  “What the fuck is wrong with me?” He yelled out, trying to grab onto something. He felt a cold liquid touch his hand and knew he was going down. The dance floor sagged inward toward the center, the stage waved slowly, up then down, up then down, up then down further, and the people on it warped along with the ride. Sounds pulled on the light, bringing more and joining with the bolts being belched from the speakers. The lights got beautifully bright and intense and he could see it, just like the first time: the grey stormy hurricane materialized around his head, and around and around and around it went. As it spun faster time around him slowed to a stop. This time, only one emotion appeared in its orbit, far, then whipping close—laughing and hissing as it passed near his face. He could tell, it was Snake. He hated Snake. And the storm brought it closer with each pass that synchronized with the fire raging in his chest. And he could see the fire within him, and the snake, simultaneously.

  “Come on, take hold,” Anxiety the Snake yelled in his shrill voice. “Hiss. Get me, get me. Hiss. Grab me, you fuck.” Fear the Troll climbed up from behind and the weight of the ugly brown glob pulled on his right shoulder; his weakened body couldn’t compete. The beast interrupted Anxiety and began yelling at Rab as the rage-fuck punching of his burning heart intensified.

  “I’m gonna, fuck you up!” Fear the Troll yelled. His voice had a terrible, gritty tone that warbled the twisted world. And Rab’s heart became a speed bag getting destroyed by a boxer with a grudge. Fear reached for his face with a slimy dripping hand and Snake snapped by laughing. It lacerated his cheek with a whip of its tail as it went round another, now shorter orbit.

  “Now. Take me now. Hiss. You puny weakling!” Anxiety yelled. Rab felt his lungs about to implode. He couldn’t breathe fast enough to get air.

  “You’re a pussy, piece of shit, and now I’m back,” Fear the Troll groaned. “I’m gonna, fuck you—” The troll spoke his words unnervingly fast.

  “Hola.”

  The soothing voice came from behind and flipped the world back on end like a switch. Vision changed from bright white to a brown grid. The grid faded from the center out, letting reality ooze in. Back, at the club. He knew, once again, where he was.

  “Hissssss… I will be back…” The voice of Anxiety faded. A faint cursing grumble fell like mud sliding down his back until he heard rock music playing—all night long... The lyrics never sounded so satisfying.

  He turned, and it was her! The ground reappeared below. The faded black-light carpet, as gross as it was, was welcome under his feet. The world finished putting itself back together in a whipping rebound. The tone of her single spoken word had pulled him out.

  “Estas bien?” she spoke. She still had her face bashfully turned to his right, and her eyes moved to meet his. As they stood looking at each other—Rab still panting wildly—she slowly turned to face him directly.

  It was a large birthmark and covered most of the left side of her face, ear, and much of her neck. Her hair on the top was shoulder-length, curly but forced to be as straight as it could, and fell to partially hide the mark. For a long moment they both stood there, wordless, facing each other. Rab’s breathing slowed close to normal. Relaxation and relief cascaded, hitting him in waves like lingering pulses of orgasm. He gazed into her eyes, and she into his. She had large, deep brown eyes that gave him a feeling of comfort. There was no awkwardness to their quiescent moment. He had never heard or seen anyone so beautiful in all of his life. This really was it. And his base of reality solidified, density level: neutron star.

  “Yes, I am now,” he said, although late to the
question. She smiled at him gently. Her top front two teeth were slightly crooked. He loved her smile, it grounded him even more and he felt something dark inside float away—something that couldn’t hurt him again.

  “I’m—just going to sit down for a minute,” Rab said. His black shirt was drenched in sweat. His color returned from the negative zone. And he felt better but knew he had to sit, and plopped onto the couch that surrounded the small round table. He unbuttoned another button on his shirt for some air and took a drink of his Blue Hawaiian. It had mostly splashed out when he lost touch and stumbled against the table, knocking it.

  She took a seat to his right, scooched over, then slowly put a hand on his knee.

  “I’m Rab,” he said.

  “Raa—ab”, she tried to pronounce it. Rab nodded. She’d never heard a name like that and her face briefly showed it.

  He felt much better but wondered why she came. Many times, he wondered why girls liked him. He thought back to yesterday, looking in the mirror: the purple and puffy eye bags, his near bleach-white skin; he knew he’d lost a bunch of weight too. Because she was so beautiful, but there was surely something else about her. And he still couldn’t guess why she was there. But patiently she was and just sat next to him. Yes, she had come. His color changed from ghost-white, to just white and she reached to feel his forehead.

  Rab knew exactly the feeling he’d just felt; the ones that almost led him to check in to that mental ward: flashbacks, accompanied by panic, but mostly the twisted uncontrollable mind-fucks. His thoughts, hijacked, driven deep into the zone, that unnerving malevolent place he never wanted to experience again. Much for this reason he was contented to remain on the top floor, in his lab, working life away. But in her presence, there was a new comfort—a balance. She returned her hand to his knee while making a face of contentment, as if she’d done so to take his temperature, then he realized he’d be okay.

  “Me llamo, Ana,” she said, touching the smooth skin of her chest. “Ana Raquel. Te iva a preguntar si querias bailar pero…”

  Her slender frame and small breasts made her look young. But she was obviously older than she looked from a distance, at least twenty-five he thought. She had a thin waist and didn’t dress to over-impress like some of the ladies, looking like she quickly threw on some simple clothes, and she had barely any makeup on. She had very dark skin. He could tell she was only part Mexican because of the texture of her hair, and he liked everything about her: her birthmark, her slightly crooked front teeth, her interesting hairstyle, and he wanted to know more. He raised his right hand and brought it caressingly to her face. She let him touch her birthmark and turned closer. He slid her hair back and filled his mind with her beauty.

  They discovered a few things about each other quickly. Rab didn’t speak Spanish—at least not much besides a few greetings and being able to order some drinks—and Ana didn’t speak hardly any English. Neither of them had more than a limited basic-word vocabulary. Rab had taken Spanish at San Diego High before dropping out in the middle of freshman year. After his dad’s death straight A’s turned to F’s, and Spanish, or any other class for that matter, was the last thing he cared about.

  After fifteen minutes the two she’d been dancing with arrived and butted in. Ana’s eyes rolled upward. “Ooooh, Aaaana,” the cute one with short bobbed hair taunted. She had a bandage on her lip; with a hack-job of makeup around it. It was obvious her lips had been doing a lot of talking and drinking because the camouflage had washed off and onto her neck, and the bandages were clinging by surface tension alone. Both acted cheerfully silly and took a seat, one on each side of Rab and Ana.

  “She had her eyes on you for quite a while,” blurted the one with light skin and long, wavy black hair, sitting beside Ana. She had no accent. “Anyway, I’m Tanya and this is Maria. Hey, you okay? You look a little pale.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” Rab said. “Nice to meet you both. Can you tell Ana I just felt dizzy for a moment? Probably too much to drink. Tell her I feel fine now.”

  They told her. Unlike Ana both spoke English well. Maria had a trace of an accent but it was obvious they were both from Cali.

  Later, Julian brought a bucket of beers, no charge, and spoke to Rab for a moment, making sure he was okay, expressing concern over his frozen state earlier. Ana’s friends snatched a beer as soon as he set them on the table.

  While they talked Tanya and Maria blurted information that would have taken longer to find out otherwise. One, and more important: Ana was twenty-four, a nurse who worked at a clinic in Tijuana. She lived close by and did not have a passport. And two: they’d just met her a week ago. Ana stitched Maria, who’d cut the inside of her lip on a broken beer bottle. They’d been partying at a different club and tapped the tops of their beers to make them foam up. Maria tapped Tanya’s with the bottom of her beer and she guzzled the entire thing. Tanya tapped Maria’s, but a little too hard. Not noticing the neck had broken she went to suck it down and sliced her bottom lip wide open. Drunk in the clinic, 1 a.m. last Saturday morning, they’d invited Ana to the club and she accepted. As kooky as they were, Rab felt glad for the, albeit painful, event that had forced Ana out of bed. He could picture her wearing a nurse uniform, and not complaining about being awoken for a late-night stitching session.

  Less than ten minutes later they left, snagging another beer each. A cult-classic goth song began; it must have been a favorite. They bounced down to the dance floor like bunnies, spilling beer on others in the process.

  They enjoyed the last and only beer together, courtesy of the kookies who’d left them one. Rab did his best to talk with Ana; equally so did she. And their best was good enough. They savored each other’s company and soon wound up on the dance floor. As the night progressed another pair of singles in Tijuana, Mexico, melded into a brand-spanking-new couple. And for the rest of the night they tried to avoid Tanya and Maria.

  Above, behind the glass wall, at the table, Jon and Jodi, Jerry and Leti, were taking a much-needed break. “It’s good to see him having fun. It really is,” Jon said, looking down.

  “She black? Looks pretty dark, cute though,” Jerry remarked. The contrast of hers and his skin made the difference pop. She wasn’t that dark, but Rab was that white.

  “I wouldn’t care if she was blue, Jerry. I’m glad to see my bro having fun again. We used to hit this place hard back in the day. Just he and I mostly. Good times—but he sure did change.”

  “What happened?” Jodi asked.

  “After that acid trip he described, he stayed inside, mostly to himself. He wouldn’t go outside, or do much of anything, except work. He just worked, and worked, that’s it. And he got really good at his job. I mean best-in-the-entire-world kind of good.”

  “Well, it’s nice to see this side of him. My boss down there spankin’ it,” Jodi snickered. “He is a cool dude. Not a bad dancer actually.”

  “He’s the coolest,” Jon said. “You’ll never meet anyone else like him. He really spilled it tonight, a lot even I didn’t know. I don’t know why—” Jon caught himself choking up, wondering why Rab never came to him for help. Eyes glassy, he raised a slammer. “To my best friend in the world, Rab.”

  A tornado of madness, the night played out. The club was packed, the atmosphere was smoky and loud, perfect. Jodi got closer to Jon and for a time they talked seriously, alone, kissing then hugging like something special had been decided. Jerry drank like a horse and made sure the drinks kept coming all night. At 6 foot 9 he was a giant. Probably the largest to ever enter the cave; his forehead had the bruise to prove it. Obviously, he’d be a good man to have around if things ever went berserk. Leti had stopped sending Rab looks and cozied up closer to the giant as the night eased by. Jon caught it early on, too, knowing well the unpretentious high-gravity personality his friend possessed. Because not only were women drawn to him—everyone felt it. Rab was a magnet.

  Rab danced and danced with the largest smile he’d made in a long time, and for the firs
t time in a year, let it all out. He was one with the beat and felt better physically and mentally. He saw Jon and Jodi watching from above, arms around each other. The contentedness devoured him and he spun Ana around. The crowd made way as the couple flaunted their moves. They spun and twirled and hugged and danced the night away. And when a slow song came on at a quarter till 2 a.m. they held each other, eyes glued. And Jon and Jodi joined the finale, then Jerry and Leti.

  Time abandoned the cave, the world, the universe; nothing else mattered except living in the present. It was a perfect night.

  30. Ocean Overlook

  The cab driver pulled over then pointed. He spoke quickly, Rab thought, like an auctioneer, and nodded between every other word. Rab interpreted a few words: camino as path, corto for short, muy bonita for very pretty, nacho for corn chips, possibly even mar and agua. He was beginning to feel tired, so mostly didn’t try, trusting Ana.

  Tick—tick—tick. Cool ocean air dissipated heat from the old yellow bomb, making it sound like a clock, while remaining in the comfort of its tasseled interior, the driver hunched to get a few winks. Ana and Rab hopped out, hopped over the guard rail, and walked onto a hill then followed a winding desert path.

  It was past 2 a.m. and a full moon lit the way. Their footfalls were a dimmer switch to the yellowish, glowing cityscape at their backs as the path led them down into a secluded recess. A pleasant change from the noisy strip. As if, after only a few miles down the road they became the only souls on the planet. Hand in hand, they went for a few minutes before finding a perfect spot, then took a seat.

  Rab filled his lungs. The calm night delivered an invigorating salty breeze, courtesy of waves crashing a hundred feet below the drop only five feet from their toes. And as if it was raining coins, full-moon moonlight glimmered endlessly atop the sea; distant islands were shadows. And lights from wandering ships flickered by like ants with flashlights.