‘hello,’ molly says, smiling.
i leap at him and collide into that invisible barricade i’ve apparently forgotten about. ‘get off my woman!’ i yell, watching as my words form into little sonic waves in front of my face.
‘and whom do i owe the pleasure?’ mohawk asks.
‘um,’ me #2 says, clearing his throat loud enough to remind them that he is still participating in the conversation, ‘this is...um, wait, what is your name?’
she opens her mouth to reply, but she is cut off by an abrupt spurt of cheering off in the distance, presumably near the pool table region.
‘oh, dammit, now do you see what we’re missing?’ mohawk snaps, pounding his hand on me #2’s shoulder. ‘new fish! stupid fish, by the looks of ‘em. c’mon man, what are we waiting for? they’re practically begging for us to take their money—and, uh, teach them a lesson on the dangers of drinking, of course. let’s go.’
before me #2 has a chance to respond, mohawk is turning around to molly, offering his best smile. ‘i apologize dearly for interrupting your, i’m sure, dashing conversation, lass, but as you can see there are some very important matters at hand here that we really must be attending to. you are welcome to watch, of course. in fact, it’ll be our honor—isn’t that right, bob-o?’
she appears to debate this for a moment, but ends up shaking her head, frowning. ‘i would love to, but i should probably be going, anyway. sorry. you guys have fun. good luck.’
and without another word, the girl spins off the stool and breaks into a solid stride toward the front door, leaving the three of us caught in a starstruck daze.
‘man, just distract them or something,’ me #2 says. ‘give me a minute.’
‘yeah, uh, okay,’ mohawk mumbles. ‘her hair sure is red, huh?’
me #2 leaps off his seat and races across the club, my own weightless soul pulling toward his movement with an expert magnetic touch. we run out of the building, leaving the bad music and rowdy drunks behind and enter a glowing night overthrown by an almost deafening silence. the only sound in the whole world is molly’s distant footsteps clapping against the sidewalk.
we chase after her, begging for her to wait up, which she fortunately does by turning around and waiting patiently next to a lamppost. we finally catch up, out of breath and panting. clearly neither of us are in any shape to be running.
‘yes?’ she asks.
‘uh,’ me #2 says, straightening his back out. ‘where are you going?’
‘home, i’m going home. why? is that okay with you?’
‘yeah, um, of course it is—why wouldn’t it be? just, uh, i thought we were having a good time is all.’
‘oh, yeah, we were, i was having a great time, but i have to work tomorrow and i should really get some sleep. so go ahead and play your pool. i’ll see you around, slick,’ she says, and attempts to leave once again.
‘can i at least get your name?’ he asks.
she looks into me #2’s eyes and smiles, turning back toward us and caressing her hand along his cheek and bringing her face closer to his. as her lips touch his it is as if my ethereal ghost body subsequently fuses into my other younger self’s solid body—transforming us into this one exquisite being, granting me the privilege of savoring the redheaded beauty’s kiss all over again.
after what feels like one wonderful eternity of enthralled euphoria, she then breaks contact, keeping our mouths close together.
‘i’m molly, honey.’
chapter eleven
Her lips still upon me, I open my eyes to discover that, while still outside, we have now returned to the alley, and my younger self is no longer with us.
Maybe it is he who is watching us now.
I tighten my grip around her, fearing that she will fade away like every other good memory I seem to retrieve.
We eventually break apart, and it’s like peeling flesh from bone.
“That help?” Molly asks.
“More than you can imagine.”
“What now, slick?”
“Let’s get out of here.”
“Home?”
“Yes.” I nod, wrapping my arm around her shoulder and pulling her close against me as we walk toward the open street. “Uh, where is that again?”
She looks up at me, concerned. “Jesus, what happened to you?”
“Well...”
All words escape me as my breath retreats in my gut, legs going stiff and refusing to budge another inch. My aroused penis shrivels. A bubble of air gets caught in the middle of my throat, and if I wasn’t so preoccupied with what I see ahead, I’d probably be choking right now.
There, across the street, watching me.
Not a he, but an it.
Bio mask strapped around its mouth, a white apron tied to its torso, a large cooler held in its grim little hand. I don’t think I have to guess what is inside. Despite our distance, I can still feel the creature smelling me from afar, breathing in my own dismal aura.
I try to work my mind powers on it again, concentrating on another spidery explosion, but come up empty.
Then a rather fat man in ripped overalls walks in front of me, and by the time he passes, the gloomy surgeon is nowhere in sight.
I’ve now met two of these creatures. The first one explodes, and now this one just straight up disappears on me.
Hell, this can’t be good.
“Bobby? Are you all right?” Molly asks, waving her hand in front of my face. “What’s wrong?”
I take a deep breath. “I’ll tell you about it on the way.”
* * *
It is a fifteen-minute walk to our home, and another ten minutes before I am able to accept the fact that I’ve really found my home and it isn’t all some dream.
It’s in an apartment building, three stories up, the seventh door on the left. I’m sure to most, walking in their building and trudging up the steps to their door must seem like just another tedious task they have to deal with, but to me, right now, it is quite the opposite. It’s one of the most spiritual moments I’ve experienced all night, and that’s saying a lot.
There’s only three rooms in the apartment. Walking through the front door, I’m met with a brief hallway. A kitchen sprouts off to the left, but if I keep moving forward I soon enter a large bedroom. Against the left wall of this room there is a door leading to a small bathroom. Back in the bedroom, I find the bare essentials: mattress on the floor, a dresser, dirty clothes piled around it, a little TV resting on a cardboard box beside the mattress.
Against one of the walls stands a wooden contraption with four legs, a small mattress placed inside its wide aerial opening. I know what it is right away, and what it is for. It’s a crib. This is where a baby sleeps.
Around the crib, I see numerous diapers, outfits too tiny to fit either of us, and a pile of shiny toys that I am very tempted to play with. However, what I don’t see is an actual baby.
“Hey, babe, you gonna shower?” Molly asks, heading into the kitchen.
“What?”
“You’re filthy. You should go wash up or something.”
“Oh, um, right.” I look down at my legs and discover my skin covered by layers of mud. I’m sure the rest of my body is just as pretty.
“You hungry? I can make something if you want.”
“Yes, please.” My stomach grumbles in agreement.
“Okay, well go on and take a shower and when you get out, it should be ready. Love you, hon.”
Without any strain, the words leave my mouth as naturally as air enters my lungs: “I love you, too.”
I start to head for the bathroom but stop myself. I’ll need clothes first, won’t I? Yes. I turn in the other direction and approach the dresser, shuffling through the unfolded mess until I find what I need: a pair of jeans, underwear, and a black T-shirt.
I go into the bathroom and close the door behind me, placing the clothes on the sink and hanging my trench coat up behind the door. I reach behind me and pick out tiny shards of glass from
my back, tossing them in the trash can next to the toilet. The shower isn’t a very complex system, and before long I’ve managed to turn the hot water on.
It isn’t the same wetness as the rain I’d woken up to some hours ago. Despite the fact that they are pretty much identical particles, this is still different somehow. For one thing, the temp is much hotter, but even if I had set it on cold, something tells me it would still be somewhat different. Maybe it’s because in here, sheltered from the unknown, I am not as afraid for my life as I had been out there in the mud next to a couple of corpses.
I close my eyes and enjoy the warmth and safety the water provides as it showers all the dirt away. This is what I’ve been blindly searching for all night. Home. This is home. I am home.
But for how long?
Surely Lamb’s goons know where I live. Whoever Lamb works for is going to be pissed that I killed one of his right-hand men. How long will it take before they come barging in through the front door, pumping me and Molly both full of lead? We won’t stand a chance, hiding up here. We won’t be able to stay very long. Surely she must know this, too.
I shrug the thought off, deciding there’s no use in excessive worrying right this minute. At the moment I am trying to enjoy myself, and dwelling on a bunch of murderous henchmen is not going to help me. Right now, it is shampoo time.
After I’ve showered and dressed, I find Molly sitting on the mattress with a bowl of food in her lap, watching the television with another untouched bowl balancing beside her on a pillow. She has changed into a pair of sweatpants and a purple V-neck T-shirt.
Sinking my weight on the mattress, I crawl up close to her and grab the bowl off the pillow. I grab the fork sticking out of it and twirl a pile of noodles into my mouth. There isn’t much flavor to it, but it satisfies my hunger. On the television we watch some cartoon program, the characters indistinguishable from one another.
“Feel better?” Molly asks.
“Yeah, I do, actually.”
“Good. How’s the food?”
“It’s good.”
“Okay, now I know things have seriously changed,” Molly says, tossing her fork back in the bowl, disgusted. “This shit is horrible.”
I shrug. “It’s okay.”
“My ass.”
“That is okay, too.”
She snorts. “Are you saying that my ass is equal worth to a bowl of shitty Ramen noodles?”
What the hell is she talking about? “I don’t particularly care for where this conversation is heading. You seem a little upset.”
“Yeah, well, your dick is just as good as cottage cheese.”
“You’ve just insulted me, yes?”
“I don’t know,” she says. “Depends on if you like cottage cheese or not, I guess.”
“Do I?”
“No one likes cottage cheese.”
“Oh.”
I try to think of a good comeback but my mind seems to be too busy conjuring up an image of a big ass trapped in a bowl of noodles. It is surprisingly disturbing.
We watch cartoons for a few more, finishing up our food, and Molly takes both our bowls in the kitchen.
“Do we have a kid?” I ask, once she returns.
She looks at me, a little taken back, but seems to remember my unfortunate situation. “Er, yeah, we do. We have a daughter. Her name is Ezzy. She just turned two a couple of weeks ago.”
“Oh, okay, cool.”
And it is pretty cool. I like the feeling, knowing that I have a daughter. I just hope she never suffers from the same fate as I have. I wonder if she shares her mother’s eyes. Those magnificent green eyes...
“You really didn’t know, huh?”
“I guess not,” I reply sadly.
“I was almost sure you would have. I just thought...ya know? You two are so close.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s good, thank you. Makes me happy to hear.” Then I add, “Do I have any other family? Parents? Siblings?”
She shakes her head. “No, I’m sorry baby, your parents died before we met. And you were a single child, so no.”
“Oh.” I clear my throat. “So, um, where is Ezzy now?”
“Babysitter’s. He’ll drop her off in a few hours. I’m technically supposed to still be at work.”
“Oh, all right. That’s cool.”
Molly smiles and kisses me on the cheek, my stubble tickling her face. “I’m just glad you’re okay, after all that you have been through tonight.”
“It still isn’t over, though, whatever it is—not by a long shot,” I say. “Do you have any idea what this could all be about?”
Molly shakes her head, frowning. “Sorry, honey, but you refused to tell me anything about your work. You said it was for my own safety. In fact, your meeting with Lamb tonight is the most you’ve ever revealed about it the entire length of our relationship.”
“And how long as that been?”
“Well, let’s see, a little over five years now,” Molly says. “You were twenty-four when we met, and I was twenty seven, so...yeah, it fits.”
“You’re thirty-two?”
She sniggers. “You’re not so far behind yourself, slick.”
“Yeah, well, I know, but...damn, really? You don’t look any older than, like, well, you don’t look thirty-two is what I am trying to say here. Not at all.”
She blushes, so I figure I must have said something good. “You are too cute sometimes. Especially when you’ve lost your memory.”
“Uh, thanks.”
“Shut up and kiss me,” she says, eyeing me under seductive lashes.
“Okay,” I say, and I do.
We kiss for what feels like hours, our hands roaming our bodies and gradually stripping ourselves as our passion intensifies.
(somewhere in another lifetime, back when i’m still twenty-four and she’s still twenty-seven, my lips are upon her, the atmosphere growing warmer despite our progressive lack of clothing. our kiss deepens.)
I roll her over on her back, the rowdy cartoon characters on TV now nothing more than forgotten background noise. Our lips never part, even as I slide myself inside of her. Despite my condition, it all comes so naturally. This is right.
(it couldn’t be more perfect, i’m thinking, as she wraps her bare legs around my waist and pushes me closer against her, so close that we are no longer two separate beings but one connected entity.)
I hear her gasp as I rock against her, her breath heavy on my neck. All the frustration and mystery of the night fades from focus and all I can concentrate on is the spiritual ball of rising heat and hunger building up between us. It is now that I am certain not everything is completely screwed, after all. No, there is still good in this world and I believe I am living it right now. I am creating it. We both are.
(our breaths become heavy and more rapid as her nails claw into my back, scratching my flesh. it is a pain that does not hurt, but is welcomed. it is a fuel that makes our hypnotic rhythm increase with speed, completely losing ourselves in a cloud of perfection, an angel’s moan caressing the ceiling above us.)
And together we let ourselves go, melting into each other as if all physical form has evolved to something much more philosophical. I collapse down on her, arms still bound around her like glue, not wanting the moment to ever end, determined to stay like this forever, eternally swimming together in our own mutual zenith.
(even after it is over, my grip refuses to loosen from around her, fearing she’ll just drift away from me like mist. i don’t know how i’ve found her but i sure as hell know i will never be the same if i were to lose her. tonight will always last, i think, five years ago. i’ll be living this night every night for the rest of my life and as long as it stays this way, everything will be fine. so let it stay.)
This is how you remember.
You relive.
2.
“We can spend our lives letting the world tell us who we are. Sane or insane. Saints or sex addi
cts. Heroes or victims. Letting history tell us how good or bad we are. Letting our past decide our future. Or we can decide for ourselves. And maybe it’s our job to invent something better.”
—Chuck Palahniuk, Choke
chapter twelve
I wake up with Molly in my arms, her head resting on my chest, gently surfing with the waves of my lungs breathing in and out. Waking up like this, it’s perfection.
Plus, I’m not in the mud. There are no corpses here. I am content. Born into hell and delivered to heaven.
I wish I could stay like this forever, but the rising urge to urinate grows too strong. I crawl out of bed, replacing my body with a pillow for Molly to cuddle. She doesn’t seem to notice a difference. It confirms how unessential my existence is when I can easily be replaced with a sack of feathers and fluff.
Well, at least I know one thing that pillow can’t do that I can...
An image flashes in my head, contradicting what I had just thought. Needing to clarify such a recognition, my legs force themselves over to the dresser and I pull open the top drawer, rifling through it until I discover the object in my thoughts.
A small, metallic egg shape contraption that I automatically register as the pillow equivalent of my penis.
(‘what the hell is this?’
‘oh, that’s BOB.’
‘what?’
‘haha, my battery operated buddy. you know, BOB.’
‘um.’
‘heh, that’s funny. i never put you two together before until now. what do you suppose it means?’
‘um.’
‘hey, i know, you could be my big bob and that can be my little BOB! or, well, i guess it could be the other way around, too, depending on the weather.’)
“Oh, son of a bitch,” I mutter under my breath, studying its terrifying features. I don’t trust you, I tell it, and toss it on top of the dresser.
I sigh and turn around, heading into the bathroom to relieve myself. I flush and dig out the bottle of ibuprofen from my coat pocket hanging behind the door, dry swallowing three of the tablets.
Molly has woken by the time I return to bed. She sits up, rubbing her eyes. I sit down beside her, one arm curling around her waist and massaging her lower back.
The Mind is a Razorblade Page 10
