The Ticking Heart

by Andrew Kaufman

  ‘How can it get worse?’

  ‘It is almost impossible to predict what constitutes intimacy around here. It’s not so simple as allowing someone to insert some part of themselves into some part of you. Nor does it seem based on the depth of emotional attachment. Sometimes it takes years for someone’s name to appear on your back. Sometimes a name appears from as brief an encounter as a shared elevator ride. Although it never seems random. When a name appears, it never comes as a surprise.’

  Charlie read Kitty’s back. The names were numerous. None of them were Twiggy’s.

  ‘Your turn.’ Kitty lowered her shirt. She lit a cigarette and puffed a series of heart-shaped smoke rings into the air.

  ‘Do the names hold over from back home?’

  ‘No. It only happens with citizens of Metaphoria.’

  ‘Well, then there’ll be no one there.’

  ‘Let’s just check?’

  Kitty spun Charlie’s stool around and untucked his shirt. She used her tail to lift it and the back of his jacket. She ran the tips of her fingers across the skin at the small of his back.

  ‘You may have only been here for two hours but you’ve been busy, Charlie. Wanda Parks? And who is Linda Penmore?’

  ‘Jesus. My ex-wife.’

  ‘And you arrived together?’

  ‘She doesn’t live here.’

  ‘I’ve never heard of that,’ Kitty said. Her tail lowered Charlie’s shirt and jacket. She spun him back around and then her tail began swishing, back and forth. She was clearly upset. ‘I’ve never heard of the name of someone not living in Metaphoria appearing on the skin of someone who was. Do you love this Linda?’

  ‘That’s a complicated question.’

  ‘When isn’t it?’

  ‘Do you love Twiggy?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound very complicated.’

  ‘He doesn’t love me. That’s the complicated part.’

  ‘Do you think he still loves his wife?’

  ‘I suspect he does. But how would anyone ever know something like that for sure? Even here in Metaphoria, it’s not like there’s some sort of indicator light that flashes green on the small of our arm, telling us our love is true.’

  ‘Wouldn’t that be nice.’

  ‘You still haven’t answered the question.’

  ‘I do. I love her as much as I ever have. I love her more than I ever have! I think that’s why I am here.’

  ‘That’s a lot of protesting.’

  ‘What are you implying?’

  ‘It’s never that simple, Charlie. No one in Metaphoria gets off that easy. I suspect her name is there for the opposite reason.’

  ‘The opposite of what?’

  ‘Not because you love her, but because you don’t.’

  ‘You’re wrong about that.’

  ‘We’ll see. If you’re so sure of yourself, tell me – what’s the purpose of the human heart?’

  ‘That is currently unclear to me.’

  ‘I have a theory. I’m still here, so it can’t be the right one, but I feel like I’m getting closer.’

  ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘The purpose of the human heart is to make us so lonely we reach out to each other.’

  Kitty reached out and took Charlie’s hand. Charlie held hers tightly. They leaned toward each other, pressing their cheeks together. It was at this moment that the stools Charlie and Kitty sat on glided with perfect ease several feet back from the bar. Charlie and Kitty kept their cheeks against each other as the stools slipped along the polished marble floor across the restaurant. They glided out the door and across the sidewalk and came to a slow, gentle stop directly in front of the opening door of the taxicab waiting at the curb.

  8

  THE SECRET WARMTH OF KITTY PACKESEL’S APARTMENT

  In Metaphoria, taxi drivers consider the journey the destination. Maybe taxi drivers everywhere think this, but in Metaphoria they take it seriously. Every ride is a spiritual journey. In Metaphoria, taxi drivers do not ask ask where their fares want to go. They never start the meter and they never look in the rear-view mirror. They simply pull away from the curb and begin to drive like their fate depends on it. Charlie, who didn’t know any of this, was alarmed by how recklessly the cabbie was driving. His anxiety began to rise. He could feel himself start to shrink. Then the right side of the back seat tilted upward at a seventy-degree angle, causing Kitty to slide toward him. While this didn’t lower Charlie’s anxiety, it certainly captured his attention. Kitty looked at Charlie. She ran her fingers through his hair. She tilted her head slightly to the left. When their lips touched, the back seat reclined. The roof, doors, and windows disappeared as the taxi turned into a heart-shaped bed.

  The deeper Charlie and Kitty kissed, the faster the bed travelled. Oncoming headlights became blurs of colour. Street lights were a single white streak. It started to snow. Snowflakes got caught in Charlie’s hair and the folds of Kitty’s dress. The snow began falling harder. They kissed deeper. The storm turned into a blizzard. Their hands were given free rein. Charlie climbed on top of Kitty.

  ‘Stop!’ Kitty said.

  The cab had been travelling so quickly, and it stopped so suddenly, that Charlie became disoriented. He shook his head. Snow still clung to his eyelids and hair. Kitty rolled through the snow and off the heart-shaped bed. Charlie did the same. As the taxi raced away, it turned back into a regular car. Charlie looked around – strings of multi-coloured lights with burnt-out bulbs hung in every window. Mittenless children wearing T-shirts and jeans stood on the corner, singing ‘Silent Night.’ They sang as poorly as they were dressed for the weather. A man in a Santa suit bumped into Charlie, failed to look up, and drank from a mickey of rum as he staggered onward.

  ‘Where are we?’

  Kitty pointed to a sign across the street.

  THE SAD CHRISTMAS DISTRICT:

  The Christmas you can never forget …

  Thus prompted, Charlie noticed other things. Every living room he could see into held a Christmas tree, but all the trees were short and missing limbs, the sort of trees that would have been the last to sell. He counted four different men wearing threadbare suits and sitting on their front steps with their heads in their hands. Two of these men were sobbing. At the end of Kitty’s block, someone broke the passenger window of a parked car, gathered up the presents, and ran away.

  ‘Why do you live here?’

  ‘It reminds me of my childhood.’

  Kitty stepped closer to Charlie, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and held him tightly. Charlie did the same to her. Several times Charlie thought Kitty was about to end their embrace. Each time she didn’t, he felt a significant portion of his loneliness leave his body and go into hers. At the same time, an equal amount of Kitty’s loneliness left her body and went into his. Charlie no longer felt the need to sleep with Kitty. He understood, with great clarity, that this was what all his casual sexual encounters had always been about. As the embrace continued, the door of Kitty’s building opened, and a strong winter wind lifted them and carried them up the stairs toward her apartment.

  The door of Kitty’s apartment flew open. She and Charlie continued holding each other. They were just past the threshold, although still a metre above the floor, when the wind ceased to blow. It was not a graceful landing. They crashed onto the thick white carpet. The impact was severe. Both were knocked unconscious. They remained unconscious for some time.

  Kitty was the first to recover. She got up and dimmed the lights, lit a fire and candles. She lay down beside Charlie and held him tightly. When he started waking up, she let him go. They smiled at each other as the radiators began clanging.

  ‘You have to go.’ Kitty stood. She straightened her clothes, took Charlie’s hand, and pulled him to his feet. Putting both of her palms back on his chest, she pushed Charlie toward the door.

  ‘Why? What?’ Charlie noticed that the room had suddenly become unbearably hot. Much mo
re so than could be explained by the raging fire.

  ‘Now. Go.’

  ‘Is it the kissing? Because that doesn’t count. I wasn’t really kissing you. It wasn’t real kissing. I just wanted you to start trusting me because I want to ask you questions about Twiggy.’

  ‘Let’s just say it is.’

  ‘To be completely honest with you, I’m not just here because I’m sexually attracted to you. I mean, the truth, the complete truth, is that I’m recently divorced – well, not that recently – but still I’m pretty emotionally unavailable. Plus, I have this thing going on with a woman named Wanda who I really like. In fact, I actually love. And I think that kinda frightens me, that I love her. But what I’d really like to do is ask you more questions about Twiggy Miller. Can I do that? I mean, I think I’m in a terrible situation. Why am I being so honest?’

  ‘They heat my apartment with truth. If I’d realized it was so cold out, I would have insisted you leave.’

  ‘Are you trying to hide something?’

  ‘Who isn’t?’

  ‘Is it about Twiggy’s heart?’

  ‘They wouldn’t like it if I told you that.’

  ‘Who’s they?’

  ‘They wouldn’t like it if I told you that either.’

  ‘Do you know where his heart is?’

  ‘If you go after his heart, you will be putting yourself in terrible danger.’

  ‘If I don’t, the bomb in my chest explodes.’

  ‘I won’t betray his trust.’

  ‘Your loyalties are misplaced. You can do better than Twiggy.’

  ‘You really believe that?’

  ‘I don’t think either of us is capable of lying right now. Will you tell me where Twiggy’s heart is?’

  ‘The reason Shirley can’t find his heart is because he’s stored it outside of his body. At a place called Forever Yours, the most prestigious cardiac self-storage facility in Metaphoria, located at Pride and Power, deep in the Never-Ever-Enough District. Unit #117.’

  ‘How can I thank you?’

  ‘Tell me why you’re so sad.’

  ‘It was supposed to last forever.’

  ‘What was?’

  ‘My marriage.’

  ‘You’re caught in a myth, Charlie.’

  ‘Only one?’

  ‘Love isn’t this indestructible force. Love, like any human creation, ends. Those who can’t accept that are destined to live a lie.’

  ‘Even if that’s true, why didn’t mine last longer?’

  ‘Because that’s not the kind of love it was.’

  ‘But I wanted it to last forever.’

  ‘Why?’

  Charlie had to think about that one. Several answers came immediately to mind, but he could not voice them because they weren’t true.

  ‘Because it hurts so much when it ends,’ he finally said.

  ‘Oh, Charlie. A love that lasts forever generates just as much, if not more, heartache, sorrow, and sadness as one that doesn’t.’ As Kitty spoke these words, she realized they were true.

  ‘Anything else you feel like sharing?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘I’m working with the W.B.C.’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘The White Blood Cells? You haven’t heard of us?’

  ‘I’m new in town.’

  ‘You need to be careful, Charlie. We know who you are. And we’re watching you.’

  ‘Jesus. What do you want?’

  ‘We want what everyone here wants.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘The full expression of the human heart! Because only the full expression of the human heart will lead to finding the purpose of the human heart!’

  ‘What is the purpose of the human heart?’

  ‘I used to think the purpose of the human heart was to make us so lonely that we reach out to each other. But, just now, I’ve changed my mind. I don’t think that’s right anymore. The purpose of the human heart is to make us strong enough that we can reach out to each other!’

  Kitty looked right at Charlie, but her eyes were focused on something invisible and very far away.

  Poof!

  8

  THE CYCLOPS

  Charlie stood in the middle of Kitty’s living room, trying to come to terms with what he’d just seen. The purple smoke cleared. The smell of burning cedar lingered in the air and then it too disappeared. Although it took more than a few moments, Charlie realized he’d just witnessed a poof. This was the first time his circumstances hadn’t felt doomed since Shirley had cut out his heart. It was at this precise moment that the door to Kitty’s apartment opened and the white shag carpet started to move in swells, like deep water on the open sea. The waves swept Charlie out of the living room and into the hallway. The door closed, all on its own.

  Charlie walked down the stairs and onto the street. It was no longer snowing. The soft, fluffy white snow on the ground was already melting, turning into a dirty, thick slush. Charlie’s joy at so easily finding the location of Twiggy’s heart was tempered by the fact that he remained in the Sad Christmas District, a very sorrowful place. Another drunken Santa bumped into Charlie’s shoulder. A faint mewing came from inside the bag over his shoulder. This made Charlie shudder. The street lights flickered in time to ‘Jingle Bells.’ The sad eyes of an elderly woman watched Charlie through dirty faded curtains as they waited for relatives who would never arrive. Drunken men stopped on street corners, struggling to maintain their balance as they stared at the wrinkled photographs of their children clutched in their hands.

  Charlie walked slowly. He thought about his own children. He contemplated the Christmases he’d provided for them and concluded that they were only marginally better than this one. He did not try to hail the many cabs that splashed slush onto his pant legs as they raced by. He didn’t think he deserved the luxury of a cab ride. He just kept walking. With every step, his spirits sank a little bit more and the ticking in his ears got a tiny bit louder. He was practically deaf and barely holding back his tears as he neared the parking lot of the Disappointment. Unable to resist any longer, Charlie raised his arm. He looked at his wrist:

  19 HR 14 MIN 15 SEC

  Knowing how quickly time was passing did not make Charlie walk any faster. His car was the only one left in Disappointment parking lot. He got the keys out of his pocket and noticed a Cyclops lumbering toward him. The Cyclops appeared to be angry, although it was hard to decipher the look in his eye.

  ‘You Charlie Waterfield?’ the Cyclops asked.

  ‘No?’

  ‘Is this your car?’

  ‘A red Corvette? I would think not.’

  ‘Then why are there car keys in your hand?’’

  ‘Okay. So it is my car. But I’m not Charlie Waterfield.’

  ‘Oh, I think you are, Charlie.’ The Cyclops put two fingers under Charlie’s chin and with very little effort lifted him off the ground.

  ‘Want to know how I know you’re Waterfield?’

  Charlie didn’t respond. His feet kicked at everything that wasn’t there.

  ‘Because you’re an idiot. Only an idiot would sleep with a Cyclops’s wife.’

  ‘Wanda’s married?’

  A look of shock and hurt crossed the Cyclops’s face. It stayed there for several moments. Charlie stopped kicking at nothing. He recognized that look. He knew how much hurt it took to provoke it. Charlie’s empathy went out to the poor wounded giant. The Cyclops took his fingers away and Charlie crashed to the sidewalk. He didn’t look up as the Cyclops started to cry. The creature’s tears landed on Charlie’s head, drenching him.

  Not knowing what else to do, Charlie reached up and took the Cyclops’s hand. It was an odd thing to do, but the Cyclops seemed to appreciate the gesture. He held Charlie’s hand tightly. Charlie saw a lot of himself in the Cyclops. It was easy to imagine what the Cyclops was feeling; Charlie had been there before. In fact, this was the first time he had been the other in a relationship. On all other occasions, Charlie had been in t
he Cyclops’s position. He had to admit that it felt better being the one on this side, although not by as big a degree as he’d imagined.

  Charlie tugged on the Cyclops’s hand until he sat down beside him. They leaned against the front bumper of Charlie’s car. Charlie took out his pack of Ten Pints. He gave one to the Cyclops.

  ‘I have to have two or I get nothing from it,’ said the Cyclops.

  Charlie shook out another cigarette. He lit all three and passed two to the Cyclops. They smoked in silence. Charlie noticed that the ash in the Cyclops’s cigarettes turned to snow just before it hit the ground.

  ‘Here’s an idea,’ Charlie said. ‘Maybe it’s a myth that love is supposed to last forever. Maybe love isn’t indestructible. Some loves last longer than others, but all of them end.’

  ‘I wanted mine to last forever.’

  ‘I wanted that too. But how do we know a love that lasts forever doesn’t cause more pain than one that ends? Or is even as tender and rewarding? There’s a lot more evidence that the opposite is true.’

  ‘Doesn’t a love that ends mean it wasn’t a true love in the first place?’

  ‘I hadn’t really thought about that.’ Charlie became lost in thought. He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the Cyclops’s fist was centimetres from his face. Charlie threw up his hands and shut his eyes. Several moments passed. No punch landed. Charlie looked up. Directly in front of him was the Cyclops’s open palm. In the middle of it was a wedding ring.

  ‘Next time you see Wanda, you give her this.’

  The Cyclops dropped his wedding ring. It fell to the sidewalk and left a heart-shaped impression in the concrete. Then the Cyclops walked away. Charlie traced the heart-shaped divot with his index finger.

  He stared at the ring for twenty-six minutes, which, considering how few minutes Charlie had left, was a very long time.

  9

  THE OTHER CHANNEL

  The Cyclops’s ring was pure gold, heavy, and very slippery. Charlie’s fingers failed to find purchase on his first three attempts to lift it. There was a small gap between the bottom of the ring and the heart-shaped dent it had put in the sidewalk. Sliding his fingers in there, Charlie was able to get a good enough grip to lift the ring onto its side. It took all of his strength to do this.