Not too far away Jim sat in another seat. No doubt, Arnold would have chosen the seat next to Jim if he had had the choice. But during certain hours subway cars have their own rules. Sometimes you can sit next to each other. Sometimes you can’t. Jim seemed thankful for the break. Yet he didn’t look completely happy. About three yards in front of him a homeless guy was playing the flute.
The subway car slowed down, then stopped.
The guy with the flute used this quiet spell for a part that required him to play with restricted pressure, while at the same time—it was obvious—compensating for the subdued volume with emotion. Jim listened a moment, then got distracted by a scene that took place on the platform about twenty feet away from his window.
A construction worker had started to operate a pneumatic hammer. But the noise drowned out the sound of the flute only for a moment, then stopped. Jim observed the construction worker trying to lever a curbstone with his machine.
The stone apparently wasn’t doing what it should.
The construction worker was frustrated and started to jerk his hammer around. Up and down. Side to side.
It still wouldn’t work.
Jim checked back on the guy with the flute. He was at an especially emotional part, moving his head from side to side and beating time softly with his left foot. Jim smiled, then snorted, then shook his head slightly. He looked back out the window. His ears kept focusing on the soft sound of the flute while his eyes were on the construction worker, still jerking up and down with his blunt machine.
The car started to move. The pneumatic hammer started up again.
The noise of the hammer swallowed the flute for a moment, then faded as the car moved on.
Jim looked around to check if anyone else had witnessed the tableau. But everyone seemed to be absorbed in something else, or nothing at all. With a cynical smile, Jim shook his head again and thought for a moment, then looked back to Arnold.
He saw Arnold happily interacting with the baby’s mother.
11.
On the island. Evening.
The sun was lingering over the orange horizon of the sea. Lou and Liz were lying by the shore. Lou lay on his stomach, his chin supported on his right fist. Liz, again, sat with her arms around her drawn-in legs. They didn’t speak for a long time.
After a while Lou looked at Liz, probably to see what she was doing or where she was looking.
She was looking out to sea.
He looked back to the sea himself, readjusting his chin on his fist.
A moment later he looked at Liz again. “Do you think it’s boring just sitting here, not talking at all?” said Lou.
“No.”
A beat of silence followed. Lou lowered his chin back to his fist.
The silence held on for a moment.
“You know, people usually think they are having fun only while they’re talking, making lots of jokes,” said Lou. “I mean, they think you’re kind of a bore if you aren’t entertaining other people all the time.”
“I know.”
The sun was a half circle now and almost dark red. The only sound came from the small waves that periodically slid to the shore.
“Lou?”
“Huh?”
“Isn’t it beautiful here? The air, do you smell it?” asked Liz.
“I certainly do.”
It was quiet.
“Lou?”
“Huh?”
“I just had a thought,” said Liz.
“What thought?”
“What if the world is a being? . . . Maybe something more like a plant, though. And what if it needs us for some reason?” she said. “It’s possible.”
Lou kept watching the remaining bit of sun.
“. . . it needs us for some reason like we need bacteria for some reason.”
The sun was down now. The only thing that proved that it had ever existed was a remaining brighter field of light. Liz felt extremely comfortable, and Lou said thank you to the writer.
12.
The Fraziers’ home. Evening.
Pete sat on the sofa, watching TV. Next to him sat Sarah. She was around six. She had blond hair that was long but didn’t quite reach her shoulders. It was cut in a straight line just a little above her shoulders—that’s the way it was. They were watching a cartoon.
Pete wasn’t really watching, though. He was looking all around the room, looking for trouble. Then back at the TV. Then at his watch.
Now he was looking at Sarah.
She sat there with her mouth slightly open, enjoying the cartoon.
Pete kept looking at her for a while. Then said, “Hey.”
Sarah turned her head slowly, looking at Pete like a lady would—like a bored lady, though. She knew what might be in store. “Hey, what?”
“Close your mouth when you’re watching TV,” said Pete, starting to grin.
Sarah just made a face at him, then started to focus on the cartoon again. Finally she said, “Close your own mouth when you’re watching TV.”
This time it was Pete who gave a grimace, but Sarah didn’t see it.
Jim came in. “Hi, guys.”
Pete was all too glad to strike up a conversation. “Hi, Dad. How was work?”
“Not too bad. You know, it’s only temporary.”
“You’ve been saying that for a very long time,” said Pete.
Sarah gave an annoyed look toward the two conversationalists. But neither of them took notice.
“How was your day, was it all right? Your field trip?” asked Jim.
“It was all right.”
Sarah switched off the TV, jumped down from the sofa, and left the room.
“Just all right? That doesn’t sound like much. What happened?”
“Nothing, just this new guy . . . that came from California . He gets on your nerves sometimes.”
“You know how life is,” said Jim. “Life is a game: it’s a movie and it’s a book. It’s not always easy, but there is always a way. You just have to look at it the right way.”
“I know, I know . . . I’m just a little tired of him being the big shot all the time.”
“I guess he got Jane’s attention?”
“Dad.”
Jim made two steps to the window. Looking out into the darkness, he said, “Is Mom around?”
“She won’t come home till late. She called from her office. By the way, Uncle Andy called.”
“Oh,” said Jim, his curious expression reflected in the window.
13.
Night. Island.
“What about building comfortable beds in the hut?” Liz said, lying next to Lou in the darkness.
“Excellent idea.”
“I always feel exhausted in the morning from sleeping on these palm fronds.”
Lou didn’t respond. He just said, “Tell me a good-night story. It’s your turn.”
“What kind of a story?”
“I don’t know . . . the story of the girl that always felt exhausted in the morning from sleeping on palm fronds.”
“You’re so funny.”
Lou was enjoying her reaction. He lay on his back— the usual way—and looked at the stars.
“I know a story.”
“So tell it,” said Lou.
“But it’s scary.”
“I’m ready.”
“But I’m not sure if I am. Will you comfort me if I get scared?”
“I might, and I might not,” said Lou.
“What do you mean?” asked Liz.
“Nothing. But we can hold hands if you get scared,” Lou said casually.
“You’re pretty aloof sometimes. Why is that? Do you dislike me?”
“I’m not aloof. I’m just not the guy that hugs everyone on first sight, that’s all.”
“What kind of guy are you, then?”
“I don’t know. I like people physically at the same distance that I have them mentally, I guess. I don’t see the point in being all close to someone physically
while only making small talk.”
“I’m sorry that I appear to be a small-talk person to you.”
“It has nothing to do with you.”
Liz started to smile, then started to say something, then thought better of it. Her smile faded for a moment while she seemed to concentrate on a thought.
After a moment she said, “All right,” and her face lit up again. “Let me tell you a good-night story. Take it as an act of charity to your cold and lonesome heart.”
A spell of silence followed.
“What about the story?” Lou asked.
Liz began as if Lou hadn’t said anything. “It’s the story of the guy with the cold heart,” she said, hiding her pride in the darkness.
“Ha, ha. You’re so funny.”
She dismissed his comment and continued: “It all started somewhere in a small village where the guy with the cold heart grew up. When he was a little boy, his parents used to go hiking with their friends. These friends had a daughter, and she was the only normal person in the world.
“The only normal person in the world was very stubborn and she didn’t like hiking at all, but she was very fond of the older guy with the cold heart. So when he was there too, she walked over every imaginable mountain, partially to be near him and partially to impress him. But it was in vain—you couldn’t impress the guy with the cold heart so easily.
“Over the years they grew apart. They saw each other in the village sometimes, but the guy with the cold heart wasn’t very friendly. After about ten years he didn’t even recognize her anymore . . . too cold was his heart,” she pointed out, trying to observe Lou. But she didn’t see his smile.
She continued, “Then something happened—something very atypical for the guy with the cold heart. He met her again by accident and they started to speak. They talked about their childhood, and time passed very quickly. They realized that both were interested in sailing, and the unbelievable happened: the guy with the cold heart invited her for a day on his father’s boat. To this day no one knows why he invited her, but rumor has it that he did it because he secretly liked her, though he has denied that vehemently.” Once again she tried to read his expression, but it was too dark out.
She thought for a moment, then was about to continue but stopped before the first word was out. She thought a little longer, then said, “They met a couple of times to sail. Then something mysterious happened.” All of a sudden her playful mood changed and some fear crept into her voice. “They were out at sea. It was a normal day, not dangerously stormy or anything . . . And the next thing they knew they were stranded with a torn rubber boat on a small island.”
Lou didn’t say anything. He was thinking.
“It’s pretty strange what happened, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“What could it have been? Do you think the sailboat started to burn and we somehow rescued ourselves in the small boat, only half conscious, and then fell in a coma from the smoke or something?”
“Possibly.”
“Or do you think there is some magical force out there that transports people to different places? Or are we dead and this is just an illusion?”
“I don’t know,” said Lou.
“It’s pretty scary.”
“I don’t think so. Something happened that made us leave the sailboat. That’s all.”
“Maybe the devil made us leave the boat to come to this place where he’s going to torture us.”
“Maybe,” said Lou. “Maybe I’m the devil.”
“Stop that.”
“Maybe I’m just waiting for the right time to kill you.”
“Stop it!”
Both jumped.
A distant clap of thunder rolled over the sea. It wasn’t especialy loud, but it rumbled ominously through the darkness.
“I’m scared,” Liz said.
Whrromp!
This one was pretty loud. Both froze. Liz moved close to Lou.
“It’s just a thunderstorm,” Lou reassured her, and added, “It’ll pass over the ocean,” hoping he was right.
A long silence followed. Both were trying to prepare for the next roll of thunder so as not to be startled. But nothing happened—all they saw was distant lightning that brightened the sea now and then.
“I have to pee,” said Liz.
“So go.”
“Never alone.”
“What do you expect, me to stand guard?”
“Just come along a couple of yards.”
“You don’t have to go that far, and besides, it stopped anyway.”
“All right. I’ll go alone.”
“But don’t go too far,” said Lou.
“Ha. I guess somebody is scared.”
She got up and looked around. It was too dark to make anything out. A distant bolt of lightning helped her, but it also took away some of her newfound courage. She walked a few steps toward the beach, then looked back. It was too dark to see Lou. She took another couple of steps, almost testing her own bravery. She felt frightened and excited at the same time. She felt like testing her courage again and took another few steps.
14.
At the same time, right behind in the underbrush.
A mysterious figure was moving cautiously through the woods. It observed Liz with the help of a faraway lightning bolt, then made another stealthy step.
15.
Back to Liz and Lou.
“Where are you going?” Lou said through the darkness.
Liz didn’t answer. She wanted him to get a little scared.
All of a sudden she heard some crackling noises coming out of the woods. She started, then listened.
Nothing.
She slipped her bikini down and squatted.
Lou had heard the crackling too. He was suspended on his elbow now, looking toward the underbrush.
Nothing.
Whrromp! Another clap of thunder bounced off the sea.
Both were paralyzed for a moment. After the shock wore off, Liz felt excited from the adrenaline. She ended her business, pulled up her bikini, and ran back to Lou.
“Damn, my bladder nearly ripped me apart,” she said, excited.
“It’s a bitch. Life in the wilderness,” Lou said.
Both felt great, still buzzing from the thunder.
16.
Back in the underbrush.
The figure in the woods tried to find orientation. Then slowly it moved farther into the woods, bustled around by a tree for a moment, then beat it.
part two
17.
Jim was looking out the window.
We hear the sound of a train traveling over its rails. Shrubby landscape is passing on the other side of the glass. It’s about noon on a sunny summer day.
After some time the train slowed down, then stopped.
Jim kept looking out the window.
The train started to move again, slowly gaining speed.
Jim probably saw her from the corner of his eye. Right next to him, in the aisle, stood a woman searching for a seat. He looked up at her.
With an open purse in her left hand, a monstrosity of a flower bouquet in her right hand, and the ticket between her lips, she signaled something in the direction of the empty seats.
“It’s all yours,” said Jim, looking up at her, then out the window again.
The woman started to rearrange her belongings busily.
Jim’s position wasn’t only perfect for observing the outdoors, but also great for sneaking a good look at the train’s interior. Using the soft reflection in the glass, Jim stealthfully observed his neighbors.
In the reflection, two hands were putting the flowers on the seat opposite him. There was also a pair of nice legs. Jim took a look at them, enjoying his isolated vantage point.
The woman, on the other hand, took the ticket from between her lips, and while doing so she looked at Jim. She saw his fixed stare toward the glass. It looked funny, so she smiled a little.
Sometimes you d
on’t see the full picture in the reflection.
Her face appeared on the glass as she sat down. She was still fiddling around in her purse.
At this moment, Jim’s expression changed from that of a man secretly observing a beautiful woman to that of a man slightly puzzled.
He took another look at the reflection.
She was closing her purse.
After a brief period of hesitation, he looked up and said, “Now it dawns on me why everyone is running around with flowers. Today is Mother’s Day, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is,” said the woman with a sigh and a conversational frown.
Jim sighed and said, “Now I’m relieved. I knew it was Mother’s Day—I just wanted to hear you speak. It may sound stupid, but I just asked so I could hear your voice. You look exactly like my brother’s girlfriend, and I have only met her once, just for a minute. So I wanted to hear you speak to check and see if you’re her or not.”
The woman only looked at Jim, not saying a word.
“Don’t get me wrong. I just thought I had to make sure you weren’t his girlfriend. You know, it would have been pretty awkward if you had been her, and I would have been sitting here just looking out the window.” Jim stopped, trying to find better words. “See, it would have been pretty funny if we both had just sat here looking out the window; and then gotten out at the same station—still not speaking at all—and then walked to the same house, just a couple of feet away. You know, without speaking a word or anything. And then, right at the door of my brother’s apartment, we would have realized that we should have known each other, and that we at least should have said a few words. That would have been pretty embarrassing,” Jim said, and laughed nervously, indicating that such a situation would be an awful spot for anyone.
The woman held her gaze, but there was some amusement in it now. Then she started to smile.
“I mean, it would have been pretty awkward, don’t you think?” asked Jim nervously.
The woman thought about it for a moment. “That’s about the funniest thing I’ve heard today,” she said. “But why are you relieved I’m not your brother’s girlfriend?”
a movie...and a Book Page 3
