Oh wicked magician,

Latest victim died at dawn,

For once she was there,

And next she was gone,

Oh wicked magician,

You perform on four stages,

The fourth being hopeless,

Death locked up in cages,

Oh wicked magician,

How beguiling your act,

Your tricks undetected,

Your surprise without tact,

Oh wicked magician,

How long is your show,

Two weeks, ten years,

Your intentions unknown,

Oh wicked magician,

What age is your unwilling volunteer,

Did he turn sixty seven,

Was she to turn three next year,

Oh wicked magician,

Your wand grants me no wishes,

Though it does make me dream,

I'd had time for more kisses,

Oh wicked magician,

We fight but you ruin that too,

Fighting is tethered to I.V. poles,

Told there's nothing we can do,

Oh wicked magician,

Up your sleeve lies a cure,

But you prefer martyr's,

Lined up at death's door,

Oh wicked magician,

Pickpocketing thief,

Stolen hair, lives, dreams,

Your pain bares all it's teeth,

Oh wicked magician,

Like your flowers, tumors grow,

Growing bills, growing saddness,

Growing to kill us, your foe,

Oh wicked magician,

I know one thing, your name,

Your name is Cancer,

No one wants you, but you came.

Roses are blue,

Violets are red;

Enough has been heard,

Nothing has been said;

Regret the success,

Celebrate the mistake;

Aim for first fail,

Dread when you place;

Dream of your fears,

Run from your hopes;

Flee from your friends,

Run toward your ghosts;

Strive for ignorance,

Rebel against success;

Love when you're last,

Hate when you're best;

Follow your head,

Ignore your big heart;

It's good to be dumb,

It's bad to be smart;

Beauty is hated,

Ugliness is loved;

Light is from below,

Dark is from above;

The game is beginning,

The explanation is done;

Reverse all last words,

These are fun ones.

I am full of heavy words. Some are heavy in my heart, my stomach, my mind, my shoulders, they all bear weight so cumbersome that I have to let them out. For a while, I couldn’t convey myself properly. I began to spend hours at a time on social media trying to find ways to release. But I need poetry and prose. Those were my first loves. Even now, I feel uninspired and inadequate to even string letters together. But I am looking to win my love back--writing. I’m here to get her back.

We were all lied to. That those in need are needy because there’s not enough to go around. We say this half-wittedly while we throw away out leftover food and donate clothing to the needy. Seedy politicians sew trees of lies, blocking the sun to feed themselves, no light in sight. Billionaire blowhards evade their civic duties and instead sketch dreams of a life in space. Using the money that might restore an already habitable planet to inhabit a new one. We watch with enthusiasm and curiosity in our eyes as megalomaniacs confidently say that soon “we” will make it to Mars. We. As though they’re bringing me there. A near-thirty year old college dropout who hasn’t amounted to anything. What will happen to me and the other Mes when they go? Will be become slaves? Will we be left for dead? I imagine a future where we’re all either sent to code camps or mines, programming the comptuers or digging for metals and oil for the billionaires we admire and worship. Our admiration for wealth will kill our grandchildren, as it’s killing children all over the world, every day. I fear we’re making a mistake, admiring it all. Is anyone listening?

My essence in your love,

is surrounded by solemnity.

Your comfort wraps around me like a wave.

Prejudice and eternity,

peel away like cruelty,

for nothing lasts as long as love and hate.

Decreptitude binds the luxuries of youth,

faithful normality lights the way.

Lamenting frail bodies fade away like gales,

for Love hates hate,

Love loves hail.

Creeping swaying willows,

withering elephantine leaves.

Recollection of former mischiefs,

peek-a-boo ,mud -soaked sleeves.

The solemnity of elephantine love,

blowing up gales of decreptitude and hate.

The normality of love loving love and hating hate,

Eternity slipping away at youth’s gates.

12/29/18

“I’m not sure if it was harder to love her when I knew that I had to. And I know that’s not…” James felt the knot tying itself in his throat as they watched “…what I should say, or-I know you probably don’t think I did. But I did.” He cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry, i'm sorry.”

He stepped down, weighing heavy on each step and pushing his weakness past the rows to his left and right.

*****

He walked down the steps. The place was beaten down.

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Yeah, but you're majorly spacing out there, dog.” Ty waved his hand in front of his face. “Mister big time lightweight over here. Let’s go.”

They passed by several doors, mostly apartments and not what they were looking for.

“Would it kill them to put a sign up?”

“You’re adorable.”

After a few minutes of searching, Ty dragged him down a corridor where presumably they were meant to go.

“Hey guys, what’s up?” A shadow called towards them from down the hall. “You looking for the show?”

“Yeah, this way?” Ty pointed past the voice. He was met with a nod. “Do we look that lost?”

Actually, out of place probably. Different kind. The source of the call, perched on a milk crate with a cigarette in hand, laughed heartily.

“Yeah. Have a good one, guys.”

“Cheers.” James followed as Ty brushed past and continued down the steps. They pushed through a door at the end of the hallway, faintly masking what noise James had mistakenly assumed was the band. They were two of maybe seven people in the room, all of them looking like they were meant to be there.

“Hey guys, you playing?” A tall, imposing figure stepped towards them.

“Hey, and, no. We’re-”

“Spectators,” Ty cut him off. “Are we early?”

“We were about to sound check, actually, so yeah. But it shouldn’t be too long. Grab a drink man. Thanks for coming out, should be a good one.”

“What’s cover?”

“Eh, don’t worry about it boys. Early bird.”

“Cool,” Ty stepped aside. “Told you,” he muttered at James

“Right, fuck me for thinking it would start at a decent time.”

“How about we listen to the guy who leaves his house next time. Bar.” James trailed behind him across the room and up to the counter.

*****

He imagined everyone else hearing the thudding, hollow sound of every footstep he took like he did. He took his seat.

“I know you did. You did.” He knew the voice, and the face. It didn’t matter.

*****

“So, what’s the count?”

James realized he had been staring at his feet. He looked up and froze, unable to look back down again. She had the most staggeringly brilliant red hair that cascaded down in a mess past her shoulders. She said something else, but it faded underneath the slight, purposeful movements her lips made. That feeling like he got punched in the gut. It must have been her eyes; they said something and refused to break contact to let him figure out what it was.

“Three.”

“Not quite enough” she said, as if she already knew what he was going to say. She giggled, and James looked back at Ty, proudly holding up four fingers. She pulled out two glasses, then leaned down behind the counter and produced two bottles.

“Either way,” she said, eyes darting between them, “not enough.” She twisted off both caps with a flick of her wrist and poured. She shot an implication-heavy glance over at the band as she did this, then pulled her gaze back straight through James. The corner of her mouth flickered up.

“You’re gonna want to be more drunk than this.”

*****

He struggled with his tie, pulling it haphazardly off his neck.

“It’s not right, is it?”

“What?”

“How…” He paused and thought for a moment. “She let me in. She didn’t need to bring me in.”

“Maybe she did.”

“Easy for her now. Fucking easy now. It’s not easy for me.”

“I know.”

*****

He was feeling it now. Loose, and a little off-center. He glanced back at Ty. He was talking to her. James wished he knew what they were saying, but the music was overpowering. She said something, and they both looked over at him. Like they didn’t know he knew, but he suspected Ty knew better. Or he was just overthinking everything again.

He shifted nervously. They’re acting like they aren’t talking about me, but they are. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her walk towards him. He pretended not to notice for a second, and then glanced over again. She was looking right at him. She leaned into his ear.

“Not bad, hey?” She practically yelled, but he just made it out over the music.

“Did-” The song ended abruptly. She looked at him expectantly. He fixed his attention on the band deciding what to play next. Sporadic applause gave way to an awful, puttering silence as the guitars were tuned. After a lifetime they started up again, and he turned back to her.

“What’s your name?” she called out.

“James.”

“James,” she repeated. “Nice. Suits you. You want another drink?” She pointed to the empty glass he was clutching with a death grip.

“Did he ask you to talk to me?” Her friendly smile faded slightly, then pulled back even wider.

“It’s possible.” She poked his shoulder. “Doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re cute.” James swallowed back nerves, or possible nausea.

“Uh…yeah.”

“Yeah I do?”

“Yeah to the drink.” She grinned and prodded at him with her index finger again.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

*****

“Come on, let’s go home. You don’t need this right now.”

“I’d rather not.”

“What do you want?” Good question. A lot more than I can tell you.

“A drink.” He forced a weak smile.

“Right. But I thought…” James looked at him inquisitively. “You know what, nothing. Never mind.”

“Special occasion.”

*****

The room was beginning to empty out. James, slowly as he could manage, walked over to the bar. He looked over at Ty, who just nodded and motioned him forward. He shuffled, then swallowed and stepped forward with loose confidence, shifting back and forth the rock in his stomach.

“Hey stranger.” She only briefly looked up from wrapping an instrument cable around her forearm. “What did you think?”

“Not really my kind of stuff, but they’re fun to watch. It was cool.”

“Must have been, I almost saw you enjoying yourself once.” At this she contorted her defined features sharply in a laugh-stifling grimace. James said nothing. She leaned forward and touched his shoulder gently.

“Hey, relax,” she said through a tight grin, drawing out her words laboriously. She drew back and resumed her work. “Always nice to see some new faces around here. It’s always the same people. Makes it hard to, you know, run a business or…whatever.”

“Is that what you’re doing here?”

“Good question. Not really.” At this James couldn’t help but smile.

“Hey, are you, uh, doing-” he paused, and then bit down on his hesitation to continue.

“Doing anything after this?” she jumped in, tearing the words right out of his mouth.

“Yeah. To like, did you want to maybe grab a drink or something?”

She tossed the now fully wrapped cable in a box beside the stage with exaggerated effort.

“Sorry, the theatre’s gotta be cleaned and closed. No-can-do, my friend.” She wiped non-existent sweat off her brow. James looked away for a second, then directly back at her.

“Okay, no problem. Next time.” He had only begun to turn when she started to laugh. A little more than necessary, he figured.

“Hey, hey-” she called to him, “it’s no fun if you don’t persist-uh...”

At this Ty, previously staking out the conversation in the shadowy corner by the bar, made himself known.

“James,” he declared.

“James” she repeated towards Ty, as though she had remembered herself and didn’t need his interjection. “Amber Madison,” she said, turning back to James. “I’m all through with drinking tonight, but I’m down for a midnight walk or something fun. Give me twenty minutes.”

“Alright, I’ll be out front.” He turned, and then spun back and added, “I didn’t really want to drink either. It’s just harder to ask your... y’know, that.”

She beamed. “Understandable. I do appreciate your candor.”

“We’ll see you out front,” Ty interjected again, and grabbed James’ arm to whisk him out the door.

“And you can go fuck off, Ty!” She yelled out to a skipping and whooping Ty, dragging James out the venue exit.

*****

He slid the glass from hand to hand, watching the two ice cubes bounce off each other over and over, spinning around each coarse edge and chip. Little drops of liquid sputtered in tiny flurries over the rim and he swept across them with his wrist. Back and forth, back and forth. He shifted from side to side along with it; the hypnotic rhythm almost felt like it could catch and throw him out of his seat. He would let it happen, and let the floor course correct his tampered equilibrium. Just then he would have let himself fall, but he felt a strong hand grip his shoulder, lighten up, squeeze again and release.

*****

“So?”

She had stopped, and he had passed her. James turned to meet her eye line.

“I-sorry, what?” She looked dismayed, but skipped over to him. James turned again, matched her rhythm with a little effort and they continued forward. The path spiralled down off the road, and James traced it as it rolled down several small hills and lined the edge of the canal. From their vantage point, it almost seemed to spill over into the channel; the very one the whole town seemed to expand out from. A warm current of humidity-laced wind floated up from the channel and tossed Amber’s hair back from her face.

“Did you want to phone a friend?” She let out a curt laugh and immediately waved this off the moment she said it. James didn’t respond. She raised her hands defensively.

“Sorry. I said, what’s your thing?”

“Meaning?” They turned in unison and started downwards towards the water.

“Standard interview question, critical thinking.” She grinned, again stupefied by her own wit. “Like, I don’t know. Everyone’s got a thing right? Like playing guitar or writing or baking or something. Just, your thing? What’s your big thing you do?”

“Not sure if I have one. Maybe half a thing.” He looked over, expecting acknowledgement, but her face held straight. No wit.

“I guess…” he tried for a moment to look like he was thinking, before actually thinking about it. “It fluctuates a bit. I used to play music.”

“Drums?”

“Guitar.”

“You look more like a drummer.”

“Well, if it helps you sleep at night, then sure, I played drums. But yeah, I don’t know, I got into drawing and then…”

“And then?”

He glanced over. She exhaled softly, eyes fixed on the water. She didn’t look back but he could tell she was listening.

“I don’t know, I guess I just lose interest in things really fast. Like I get into something and then get distracted by the prospect of doing something else, and it doesn’t live up to what I wanted and-rinse and repeat. You get tired of getting used to disappointment.”

At this she did look over, her face downcast by the streetlamp shadows but still the brightest thing in his vicinity. He shuddered at himself; the one person who would listen and he gave her his sob story.

“Yeah?” She studied him with intrigue rather than pity. He let out a heavy sigh.

“I don’t think I’ve told anyone that before.”

“Has anyone ever asked?”

“I guess not.” He considered this for a moment. “No.”

She stopped. They had come to a small boardwalk lookout raised a few feet above the water. She threw her arms forward onto the railing and leaned over, peering down at the gently passing current. He joined next to her, so close that his elbow was only inches from her left arm. He couldn’t help but stare at her; her scarlet hair cascading in twisted and contorted rapids downward, spilling off her shoulders. Clusters of freckles outlined the space between her earlobe and the corner of her eye. She stayed facing ahead, as if she didn’t notice, but James caught the erratic motion of her eyes darting sideways and back, stealing peripheral glances. He made himself quit it and focused on whatever captivated her below the boardwalk.

“What about you, what’s yours?” She said nothing for a brief moment, then gracefully and swiftly turned jumped up and sat on the railing, sliding over to face him. “The venue?”

“Not particularly. Wouldn’t stake my name on the music thing, necessarily. I actually don’t really like concerts that much. It’s just fun. Meet lots of interesting people.”

James couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

“What?” She looked genuinely offended.

“I can tell.” He was bold enough to delicately touch her arm.

“Is that so?”

“…You don’t know how to wrap an instrument cable.”

“Oh fuck off! What?”

“You don’t need this,” he ran his fingers across his forearm. “There’s a real specific way you actually do it.”

“Actually do it. Right. You know, I didn’t act all nice and bring you to this lovely spot just to get personally attacked.” She punched him lightly on the shoulder twice on each of the last two words.

“Maybe no one ever told you because you’re too pretty. Intimidating.” Her face twisted up, but a smile crept up the corner of her mouth.

“Cute. Maybe sexist. I’m sure I’m a fan of where this conversation is headed.”

“The truth hurts.”

“I can’t handle the truth!” She exclaimed, and followed with a look of disappointment when he didn’t react. “It’s from a movie.”

“I know.” James turned back to the water. She inched closer to him and suddenly reached up, tossing his hair around into a tangled mess.

“What fun you are.”

“Man, I must have seen this canal a thousand times and never been to this place before.” He rapped his knuckles twice on the wood railing with one hand, fixing his hair with the other.

“Well, you gotta get out of here sometime,” she said, dropping back to her feet and leaning in. She wrapped her fingers over his shoulder with one hand, and touched the very center of his forehead with the other.

“Meaning?”

She backed up half a step, but still held his shoulder, close enough for him to almost feel her breath.

“Not that I know, or have any right to cast my judgments on you, but you seem like you just space out sometimes. Like you’re totally somewhere else in your head.”

“Did Ty tell you that?” She looked at him like this should have been obvious. “Right.”

“No offense. It’s just-”

“No, you’re right. It’s a weird thing. You don’t get that? Lost in your thoughts?”

“Of course not,” she said through a smug grin, “I’m not smart enough to think thoughts that are captivating enough to get lost in. I’m no James.”

“Is that so?”

“Yep. But at least I’m where I am when I’m there.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Observe.”

She pulled her hand from his shoulder. She crossed her arms at her waist and pulled her shirt up over her head effortlessly. James took a shocked step backwards. She held her shirt at her chest for a moment, and then tossed it a few feet away, revealing a lacy black bra. She undid her belt and shimmied her way out of her jeans.

“I-uh-um-I” he babbled. She gave him an exaggerated curtsy, then turned and vaulted herself over the railing. James slapped his hands on the railing and poked his head over. She disappeared into the black for a moment, then her head broke through the surface and she backstroked a few feet further out from the boardwalk.

“The water’s lovely!” she shouted, and tossed her hair back.

“Fucking-”

She splashed up at him.

“Come on! Live a little!” He weighed his options momentarily. “I’ll let you call it a date if you come in!”

He went to say something, then didn’t. Grimacing mostly for effect, he shrugged and started to strip down. She laughed and clapped at him.

“Don’t push it.”

“You can’t handle the truth of how nice this water is right now.”

He pulled himself up onto the railing and jumped. Cold hit him like a bag of bricks.

“Amazing,” she simply said when he surfaced.

“That was so much worse than I thought,” he said, but was smiling in spite of himself.

“But was it also so much better than you could have ever hoped and dreamed?”

She took a few long, strong strokes and maneuvered herself right up to him. This time he really could feel her breath on his face.

“Yeah, that sounds about right.”

She grabbed onto him, pulled herself in closer and kissed him.

“My god, I am so fucking cold,” she said as she pulled back. She laughed sharply and shivered. “What a price to pay for living your best life.”

They navigated around the boardwalk to shore and ran over to their clothes. She picked them up, not bothering to throw them back on.

“Come on, I’m just over the hill there. Five minutes max.” She pointed to a string of high windows, a few lit up but mostly dark.

“I…”

“If you’d prefer to freeze here, be my guest.” She grabbed him around the waist with both arms and practically tossed him in the direction she had pointed out.

“Okay okay okay.”

He slipped back into his clothes and they proceeded forward.

“A Few Good Men,” he mentioned offhandedly after a moment.

“Pardon?”

“That’s the movie. ‘You can’t handle the truth.’”

“My goodness James, we’ve found it! A film connoisseur.”

“Does that count if I’m just filled with unnecessary knowledge?”

“You might just be the greatest film encyclopedia the world has ever known.”

She threw her arm over his shoulder as they crossed the top of the hill and started down the road.

*****

“I could’ve been anyone.”

The four o’clock light was fading; he watched as it caught itself up in the dusty, hazy stripes of the blinds on its way to evening. It ran across Ty’s face and cut across both eyes, staring straight ahead in a weary emptiness James hadn’t seen before. He said nothing.

“All that stuff we did, just fucking hazy bullshit memories. Why can I…why can I only remember the good parts? Why can’t I remember that she hurt me? That she is, right now?”

“Why do you want to?”

“Because she did. That’s real. She used me, for what? For her stupid fucking legacy. Her fucking legacy. Thanks for the introduction by the way.”

Ty stood up, still withholding eye contact. He dropped a twenty on the bar, weaved his bag out from under the armrest and turned.

“Where are you fucking going?” James blurted out, bringing down two fists on the countertop. A dull thud resounded weakly.

*****

“ANYTHING!” Amber nearly tripped over her own feet, twisting and almost tumbling into the empty street. She pointed to him before he could ask.

“God damn I feel like I could…” she pulled in a deep breath, leaning back as she did as if the force threw her whole body off-kilter, and eased the air out in a sigh, “…just do anything right now.”

James just watched. A middle-aged couple came around the corner the bar sat on, and Amber beamed at them. She waved eagerly, and pirouetted on the double yellow lines before she could catch a response.

“Okay, okay crazy, come on.” He took a step towards her, ignoring the nagging of the oncoming spins. “Oooo-kay.” She leapt forward into him, nearly knocking him off his feet. Spinning on his heel, James caught and spun her around. She kissed him on the cheek, then on the lips, and pulled back. Her fingers slid back from his sides and she clutched his hands.

“Let’s go home.” She said, barely more than a whisper.

“You don’t want to go back?”

“No,” she nodded her head towards the bar. “Fuck ’em. Why would I waste my time? I know exactly what I want.” She squeezed his hands. James laughed and started down the road, pulling her with him.

“You’re on to something.”

“I will be,” she said, slapping his rear with an open hand. James jumped. Her silly grin suddenly faded. “What do you want?”

“What’s that?” He placed his hand on the small of her back, pulling her in closer.

“What do you want right now? What do you want to do?” James thought about this for a second.

“I don’t really know. I’m pretty content with just this,” he squeezed her into himself and reached his other arm over to run his hand through her hair.

“No fun,” she said, uncharacteristically blank. She squirmed and pulled her arm free of him, dove into her purse and pulled out a joint and a lighter. She stopped to torch the end, then resumed forward.

“No good story ever started with-” She drew in smoke through thinly parted lips, held for several seconds, and slowly let the smoke dribble out from the corners of her mouth.

“…With someone being content with where they are.”

“I resent that.” She offered the twisting smoke trail over to him. He waved it off.

“Most of them have sore losers though.”

“Is that so?”

She said nothing. He considered this, and then took the joint from between her fingers. “This one ought to be no good then.”

At this she smiled. He took a good long hit and held it until a raw burning started to climb up from his chest through to his throat. He coughed it out harshly.

“God damn. I don’t think-man, it’s been a while.”

She beamed, her smile cutting right into him. James bit his lip. He may not have wanted anything, but in that moment he knew he would do anything for that look, or to feel that way she did. Or both.

“What, since high school when you were still fun?”

“Something like that, I’m sure.”

He passed it back, and she held it out in front of her. The hazy moonlit crimson swirl wavered in the slight breeze around her, tied around the whispering smoke. James thought to Blade Runner, Goodfellas, Casino. This was better.

“If I had asked fun high school James, what would he want to do?”

He thought back. Playing music. Cutting class with the guys to start a fire down at the trail behind the football field. The movie they made, recording over their voices on his laptop like a badly dubbed Godzilla movie. It almost felt like it couldn’t be the same lifetime. Distant and cloudy.

“Probably light a fire or something stupid,” he said as she handed the joint back to him.

“Well okay. Not that. But we could.”

James laughed. “We certainly could. Would definitely be something stupid.” He put his mouth to the joint, and inhaled slowly.

“It would have to be stupid. It has to be. Can’t know a good thing if you don’t do bad ones.”

James held up the finished, smoldering joint between his fingers as an example. He tossed it in front of him, crushing it under his shoe as he walked. Without warning, her face almost seemed to drain of its color; still beautiful but less bright, like single light went out inside her head. One of many.

“We have to do what we want. You know, like, like-” she grimaced, as if the words struggled against her mouth to escape, “like, I don’t know. That’s all we are. And we’re not here forever. You have to do everything.”

“Amber…”

“We’re just stories, you know. Everything that’s happened is just a story to whoever comes next. Or it doesn’t get remembered and it’s nothing. If no one remembers, it’s nothing and it’s just-”

She coughed harshly and exhaled.

“Amber, what are you talking about?”

She stopped to catch her breath. “Sorry.” He took her again by the small of her back and pulled her close.

“Do you think about that?” she asked.

James waited for more.

“That you’re part of a story? Yours, and some grand one, and everyone else’s? How many stories are you in that other people have told? You’re probably so many different people to so many people.”

“I think you’re probably in more than me.” James cut in.

“You’re in mine. And vice versa.” She giggled. “The temptress, and the boy who never smoked.”

“Special occasion.”

“Special occasion. Good chapter.”

*****

“I can’t listen to this,” Ty said over his shoulder, starting to walk away.

“What? That she knew?” James called after him.

Ty stopped.

“Because she did. You know what I found out? She fucking knew. Like, way back. Way before I met her, that-” he spun his index finger around in a circle, “that clock was already god damn running. And she bullshitted all of it. That happy-go-lucky fucking philosophical fucking bullshit was all bullshit. It was fake. She forced herself to be happy because she didn’t have time not to be. To be this-this-this muse or whatever the fuck.”

Ty turned. In one swift motion he rushed forward and clutched James by the shirt collar. He drew in a harsh, quick breath, then eased it out and let go. He leaned on the bar, his head sinking into his hands.

“You know what I would call that?” he mumbled into his palms. He stood back up slowly. “Desperation. And that’s a lot more real that whatever the fuck you’re doing-” he waved his arms around, “Here. Pretending she never fucking mattered to you.”

*****

James kicked his heels against the scuffed brick wall around the corner from the shop. His hands glowed with the warmth of his coffee against the brisk, sharp pangs of icy wind. He was anxious to get out of the cold, but at the same time was glad to be delaying the inevitable. Or what felt like the inevitable. It could be anything, but it was usually bad. On the tail end of this thought, he caught motion in his peripheral vision. He kicked off of the wall as Amber skipped around the corner, tossing an unopened carton of cigarettes absentmindedly from one hand to the other.

“I thought you quit,” he remarked as she reached him and they continued on their way.

“I did. Doctor’s orders.” James looked at her incredulously.

“So?”

“So, I’ve gone absolutely mad.”

“Pardon?”

Amber cracked open the carton and pulled out a single cigarette. She gave it a considered, long glance and then looked back over to James, twirling it hypnotically between her fingers.

“You know, my grandpa used to carry cigarettes everywhere he went. Hand rolled, too. He didn’t even smoke; he just had them in case anyone wanted to bum one. ‘A bum for a bum’ he would say. If someone was stupid enough to kill himself that way, he thought, good riddance, right? Save room for the rest of us. Mad Madison, they called him. My dad called the whole thing ‘going mad.’”

She waved the cigarette in front of his face.

“Sort of a family tradition.”

“How do you know all this?” James inquired.

“Why?” She asked, as though she had been challenged on this for the first time.

“Because it sounds very not true.”

“Excuse me?”

James smiled thinly.

“I dunno. It just sounds like, really contrived and cliché. Too good to be true maybe.”

Surprisingly, Amber laughed at this.

“That’s probably because I made it up.”

“Wow.” Amber reached over to grab hold of his hand. “Also, I’m fairly sure your grandpa’s generation didn’t even think smoking could be bad for you.”

“Yeah, but more importantly, I had you for a second there, didn’t I?”

“If that helps you sleep at night, then sure. Also, didn’t your grandpa died of lung cancer?”

A pointed gust of wind fell over them, and Amber reached into her purse. She drew out a toque and pulled it over her head. She tucked in the ends of her evenly cut, ear length hair and shivered.

“Well, yes, but as far as you’re concerned they might both be true. Now that it’s there.” She let go of his hand and tapped the side of his head. “It’s real though. Because I said it. Who are you to say it didn’t happen? Just as likely it did as didn’t.”

“How wonderfully cynical of you.”

“I’m allowed, am I not? Considering the circumstances?” He kissed her on the cheek lightly in lieu of a response.

“Besides, cynical is such an ugly word. I think it’s a great story, and even better since it’s not-maybe not true. Sort of a Kerouac-ian, On The Road kind of thing.”

“Have you read Kerouac?”

“No. Have you?”

“No.”

“Well then, as far as we’re concerned-”

“You’re a regular ol’ Jack,” he interrupted her, catching her thought before she had even started it.

“Besides, grandpa lived a short, beautiful and poetic life filled with meaningful cigarettes. At least according to me. He's living forever now. What more could you want?”

“Another twenty years, maybe?”

“Twenty boring, unromantic years. Done that already. Don’t need any more of those.”

“So are you telling me you weren’t always this…Kerouac-ian romantic-cynic genius I know?”

“Well you’ll just have to read my biography. Does it matter? If the whole thinks I am…”

“The whole world?”

“I have big plans.”

“To make up?”

“I resent that. But you get me.”

James smiled and let her take his hand again; they braced against the cold as she pulled him towards whatever bad news might lay ahead.

*****

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Maybe, just maybe, she wanted you to get the fuck out of your head and do something. Anything. Even if it was just caring for someone, or something. For once.”

*****

There was no real moonlight, and no real need. The impossibly white hues lighting up the archway across the front entrance of the building bathed James in an awful, anxious, fake glow. Like the set of a noir he never would have watched. Stakeouts are less fun when it’s routine. Looking out. Amidst the blinding white he caught motion, a glimmer and a flash. The glass door half opened, then swung open fully. He saw her step through and glance up at the overhead lights. She said something to the woman who had helped her with the door, before catching his eye line and hurrying over. She knocked once on his window and circled the car. He started the engine as she hopped in beside him.

“That sucks.” She was looking straight past him at the piercing artificial light above them.

“You’re telling me.”

She sighed and fell back heavily on the seat.

“Your place?” he asked. He put it in gear but stayed in place, looking over at her.

“No, come on. It’s been all day. That sucked.” She paused. “Anything else.”

“What do you want to do?”

“What I really want-” she said, reaching over to touch him lightly on the leg, “-is a double vodka tonic. And a tall, dark, handsome stranger on my arm.” She looked him up and down. “But 5’11 will do I guess.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“It’s a special occasion, love.”

“What’s that?”

She looked away, exasperated, then back at him.

“That I’m not there right now. For fucking once. And I just would love to do something stupid again.”

“I think the stupidest thing you can do right now is something stupid.”

“Oh fuck off.” She turned away. “Fuck.”

“Amber,” James drew out a long breath.

“Sorry. Just, can we go? Please?”

James nodded and hit the gas gently. He felt a touch of relief roll over him as they rode out of the awful illuminated parking lot into the empty, dark road. The moon was beginning to drift out from the clouds, and he looked over and saw Amber staring up through the windshield, as though willing it out fully. They drove in silence for ten minutes or so. As the moon finally showed it face overhead and cast the windshield full of warmth, Amber sat back again.

“It’s just…” she swallowed hard and ran her left hand through the knots in her hair,

“God, if I can’t have a fucking highball every once in a while when I want to, then obviously I’m not getting any better. This isn’t better.”

James reached over, one steady hand held on the wheel as the other wrapped around her forearm. He rubbed gently with his thumb, feeling the bone and the thin pricks of hair. He felt a rush of unease, an almost dizzy sensation at feeling how fragile she felt.

“You know I’m here for you right?” was all he could think to say. He cringed the instant he said it. It felt accusatory, and he had no right. The words burned in his mouth.

“Mmm. Here, then? Not here anymore?” She pulled out of his reach and tapped him once on the side of his head. “Did I fix you or something?”

He smiled at her. She flickered a touch of one. “Maybe. To be continued.”

*****

James didn’t think. He didn’t feel it. He just got up. He saw his nails dig into his palms as he fell forward, arm swinging wildly at his best friend. He didn’t feel it. But he felt the cold, dead crack of his head against the wood floor. He let himself shiver as the pain flooded in. His skull felt like it was expanding, as though his brain was pressing against its confines and begging to burst through. Ty shuffled around him and turned to leave.

“Maybe you could’ve been anyone, but what if she wanted to do something for you before she left. Do one last thing for a pathetic case like you.”

*****

“Almost?”

“Just give me another ten, okay?” James watched from the bed as her silhouette danced around the off-white door frame without any of the haste or purpose he was hoping for. He undid his cufflinks and hoisted himself off the tangled, un-complimentary blue and yellow bed sheets. He sauntered over to the doorframe, clasped a hand around the side and swung himself through the opening. Amber jumped slightly in surprise, but never looked over, fixated at the framed self-portrait in front of her. He caught her hand as she brushed harshly down on her curls; they frayed and split at the ends and came to rest on her shoulders. Gently, he eased the brush from her hand, pulling her waist to him as he began to run it softly down her wiry hair. She leaned back from the counter, sinking into him.

“What a fucking mess I’ve gotten myself into.”

She spun a split end around her index finger. James craned forward to catch a better look in the mirror, brushing her bangs from her face.

“A hot mess.” He felt her flinch as he clutched her tightly and let up, softly kissing her ear. “You look beautiful.”

“Yeah, well, you have to think that.”

“Does that make it not true?”

She shifted from left to right, examining herself in the mirror, and then turned to face him.

“Yes.”

He kissed her cheek and leaned back as she pulled his sleeves back to caress the inside of his wrists.

“You know,” she half-whispered, slowly reaching down to start to undo his belt, “not everyone likes pale skinny emo girls are much as you do.” She pulled him through the doorway, back towards the bed.

“I’m not so sure that’s true,” he said as she pushed him forward and kissed his neck. They dropped down heavily onto the bed.

“Amber-”

She stopped.

“We should go.”

“Should we?” she said coyly, rubbing his leg. He held her shoulders back at arms length.

“Come on.”

“Why? I have everything I need right here.”

“When was the last time you saw anyone else?”

She sighed, slouched and looked down at her feet.

“They don’t want to see me,” she said after a moment.

“Of course they do, everyone does. What are you talking about?”

“Not-” she stopped herself and stood up, brushing him off. She ambled over to the room’s only window and drew the curtains suddenly. Early evening light rushed in, and James shielded his eyes. She pointed to him. “Exactly.”

“What?”

She leaned in against the wall beneath the window and crumpled down to a sitting position, head in hands. James slid across the bed to her and leaned down to face her. After a minute of silence she looked up into his eyes, her own welling up.

“Not this me okay? Not this me. This…” she motioned to her frail, crouched form, “...this isn’t the story I wanted to be.”

Tears began to slip from the corners of her eyes, streaking down black through hastily applied eyeliner. James pulled the sheet off the bed and wrapped both it and his arms around her. He felt the beginning of tears stinging in his eyes, and fought them off as he watched her bury her head into the fabric.

“Looks great with the blue, doesn’t it?” she said as he pulled it away from her face, revealing a weak smile.

“Yeah. I think your exact words were ‘Hey, maybe it’s a combination just quirky and dumb enough to trick people into thinking you’re a fun and interesting guy.’”

Amber snorted laughter at this.

“Oh my god. That doesn’t sound like me at all, you must be mistaking me for another lover.” He grinned down at her and squeezed her shoulder.

“You know, I had an English teacher once who told me the difference between short stories and novels.”

Amber said nothing, only brushed the tears from her cheeks and looked up intently at him.

“He said that short stories are about plot, and novels are about character.” He paused, waiting for some clever retort, but got nothing in return.

“What actually happens doesn’t matter. You told me that, in so many words. Who you are, that’s what lasts. You. You last. That’s your novel. And that’s my novel, and theirs. Everyone’s.”

“Best seller.” She loosened herself from him and stood up.

“Fucking New York Times, you better believe it.”

*****

Every step felt thunderous. James paced slowly towards the door he had been working up to for the past three days. No more excuses. He knocked five times, in that same rhythm he had beaten a thousand times, but not for years. Probably not since eighth grade. The door clicked and opened. Ty’s familiar chuckle preceded him as he came into view.

“That brings me back.”

“Just wanted to give you fair warning. In case-”

“What, in case you’re gonna take a run at me again? I can take you, trust me.” Ty grinned playfully. James looked down at his feet.

“I’m sorry man. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s a hard time.”

“No, it’s not okay. It’s just-” he struggled with the words he was trying to say. Ty only nodded.

“Its just-I’d rather it happened. I’d rather she happened than didn’t.”

“Even though it sucks.”

“Yeah. Even though it sucks.”

They stood in silence for a long time. Finally, a voice called from upstairs, beckoning Ty.

“Well, I should-”

“Yeah, for sure.” James shifted to leave, then stopped. He reached out and stopped the door before Ty could close it.

“You know, I don’t know if she was a good person. But I think she was important.”

Ty smiled softly, as though he had been waiting for this exact sentiment.

“I don’t know if you can be both necessarily.”

“Do you think she would have liked to hear that?”

“I think that would have been a better eulogy than whatever that was you did.”

James laughed. “Can you imagine?”

Ty smiled his toothy, ear-to-ear grin at him.

“See you man.”

He closed the door quietly. James stood there a moment, listening to the sound of Ty’s hurried footsteps bounding up the stairs. He turned away from the house and walked out from the driveway into the street. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a carton of smokes and a matchbox. He lit one, and let the tiny flame dip into a single dart; he stood still and watched as the smoke dripped skyward into the hazy orange glow of the streetlamp above him and disappeared. He dropped the box back into his pocket, tossed the cigarette on the ground, and stomped it out.

The family of 5 sat down to eat dinner

They were having peppers and corn from the farmers market that morning.

"Nothing is spicy" dad promised. "All will be fine," he said.

As they sat down to eat their food, the daughter poked and prodded at her pepper. She asked once more "are you sure it's not spicy?"

"Yes" the mom declared. "Now eat the food your father made."

The daughter took a bite.

Heat immediately poured into her mouth, tongue already on fire in just one bite. Spitting the nasty, gooey pepper onto the plate, she said "it's spicy!"

The younger brother saw this and refused to touch his food.

"It is not spicy. Eat your food now." The younger brother began to eat his pepper. The daughter attempted one more bite but was forced to spit it out once more. Drool and spittle formed within her mouth, the salivation causing the spice to swirl within her mouth.

"You are not leaving this table until you finish your food, young lady" the father proclaimed.

So there the daughter sat with her arms criss-crossed across her chest, refusing to take another bite.

"If you don't eat your food right now, you are grounded for a week" the mother stated, putting her foot down.

The pepper loomed at her with it's devilish taste still looming in her mouth.

The lumpy mound of pepper now looking like green mashed potatoes.

She tried to plug her nose, but the spice hit even harder than before. The saliva in her mouth multiplied, as did the tears on her cheeks. Snot rolled out of her nose.

Finally, the mother was done. Grabbing the plate from the daughter, she took her own bite. The mother's face went immediately red as she sprinted to the sink to wash her mouth out.

And there stood the daughter, still standing in the middle of the living room with every facial orifice leaking, begging to not have to finish the pepper.

11-18-2119

Happy Birthday myself! (That exclamation point is a liar. Believe me, I say this sentence with as much grudging, sarcastic, un-excitedness with which a human being could ever say anything. Perhaps even with a hint of longing and loathing.)

So, Yaaay! Happy Birthday!

How does it feel to be a hundred?

I dunno. Fake.

Today is not only my hundredth birthday, but also the hundredth birthday of a little product called Necata, derived from the latin “nec aetas” meaning “no age.” The scientists behind it had been doing underground research on it for years before the product started to surface in 2019. The official release date just happened to be the date I was also released into the world.

An anti-aging medication. But this time it wasn’t a cream that softened skin and smoothed out wrinkles. It wasn’t some cringy homemade herbal remedy. No. It was the real deal. Necata, “The nectar of life.” Certified, Approved, Authorized, Endorsed, Guaranteed, by anyone and everyone whose medical opinions were of value to the public. Necata was ready to be bought, and used by everyone right away. Starting with babies.

If you were pregnant, and your due date was November 18th, you had better start saving your money to buy your newborn baby’s immortality. Necata’s advertising campaign was geared mostly towards parents who could provide this for their kids. I mean, come on. What mom and dad don’t want to give their baby the gift of eternal life? And my parents were no different. . .

You don’t know how many times I’ve wished I was a preemie. Or a few days late.

So the nurses roll in, with a shiny shot needle, inject Necata into the infant, and boom! Just like that! The kid’s immortal.

Not quite.

Turns out Necata’s “top scientists” who had been developing the product for years, still hadn’t worked out all the kinks. They were just so in debt from their research, that they desperately needed profits. And so, decided to launch the unfinished medication hoping for the best.

Instead of staying a perfectly preserved bundle of newborn joy, complete with sunshine and rainbows, the Necata babies aged. We aged fast. By the time most kids were learning how to crawl around, I had the body of a tween. I also had mental disorders, speech disorders, learning disorders, and growth pains like you wouldn’t believe!

Yeah. I remember it. I was conscious, just didn’t know quite what to do with my brain yet.

Our growth started to slow just before we hit age two. By then, we looked like 20-year-olds.

And then we stopped.

Necata was banned from being sold or administered, and thank heaven above, no one else suffered the same fate. But the world was left with a few hundred thousand two-year-olds who looked like 20-year-olds, who had been injected in the first few days of the product’s launch. Programs were instituted. Special schools and therapy facilities. Weird enough, after we got past the disorders, we learned really well. And extremely fast. Like genius-level fast. I finished kindergarten through 12th grade in four years.

But it became pretty obvious, pretty quickly that we weren’t going to age after that. We’d hit our prime, and that was it.

So here I am. I’ve outlived my parents, my older sibling, and my younger one. The product worked. I haven’t aged. I haven’t died. Which is partially Necata’s fault, and partly my own. I haven’t killed myself yet. I don’t know why. Almost every day, I wish I would hurry up and die, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Quite a few members of “Generation Infinity”, as the government nicknamed us, discovered that they couldn’t die from old age, but they could be killed. Suicide rates went through the roof right after that.

Maybe that’s why I choose to stick around. To make sure no one else makes the same mistakes. To ensure that as long as I live (which I am betting will be quite long) that no one in the universe will have to suffer like I have. Like we have. Mortality is meant to be temporary. Living forever is almost worse than not living at all. It’s good to grow, to age, and yes, to die. Eventually. When you’ve lived a full life, and are ready to escape.

So I think I will save this blog entry/rant, and share and preserve it. Don’t play God. He’s much better at it than we are.

Sleep doesn’t come.

I somehow feel your purple, acid-washed tee against my skin

My bare legs against your thread bare comforter, wrapping around your waist

I somehow hear your shallow breath that you can rarely catch

I wonder if I rolled over and woke you

I wonder if your fingers curled on my waist and your eyes hit my own

I wonder if I hadn’t held back

And I wonder why I ever wondered.