ten- Nothingness (part one)

“One flight down, there’s a song on low…”

Chloe sits on her balcony, sipping warm green tea.  The clean air of downtown Portland carries, from the floor below, Norah Jones playing on a small stereo near an open bedroom window.  She can barely make out voices.  Two men live beneath her.  She always thought they were roommates.  The flirty lightness in their sing-along and the small shallow giggling implies intimacy in isolation.  The lights off, the doors closed, surrounded by slow jazzy serenading; it’s easy to imagine nothing exists on the other side of your open window.

With every sip her tea loses its warmth; a peevish phenomenon that would normally send her flying to the microwave.  She sits back on her wrought-iron chair.  She swallows the rest of the cold tea and trades it for a cell phone sleeping atop the wrought-iron table.  She thumbs it awake and reads, again, the telling text message that had her grasping for air on the balcony minutes earlier.

“and your mind just picked up on the sound… now you know, you’re wrong…”

Inside her apartment she hears the intercom buzzing.  Chloe knows who it is.  She walks to the screen on her wall and sees Nick’s head, distorted and disproportioned by the fishbowl view of the surveillance camera.  She sighs that he still looks cute, charmingly and interestingly.  She holds down the button and watches him smile as he enters.

“because it drifts like smoke…”

“I left my phone on your bed.”  Nick grins from the other side of Chloe’s front door.  Chloe reaches out to him, the phone flat on her shaking palm.  The look she gives is akin to the one she gave when he left: underhanded, proud, ‘I knew you’d come back’.  Nick doesn’t notice the limpness of her upper lip, her trembling hand, the tear tracks freshly laid on her high cheekbones.  He takes the phone, running his thumb along the length of her hand, wrist to nail.

“Thanks.”  He turns away towards the elevator then stops and looks back.

“Lunch tomorrow?  How ‘bout The Original?”  Chloe shakes her head, feigning a playful sour face.  She remembers weeks earlier with Henry.

“Ok.  How ‘bout Rock Bottom on Morrison?”  She nods approvingly.  Nick, content, steps into the elevator.  Chloe closes the door before he can turn around.

“and it’s been there, playing all along…”

Her back against the tall matte-black door, she slides down to the shining hardwood.  Her knees holding up her elbows, her elbows holding up her hands, her hands holding up her heavy head, she can’t stop thinking about the text.  She can’t help but feel confused, injured, and afraid.

“now you know…”

When she closes her eyes she can see the small square screen illuminated white.  It was a text from a girl named Audrey.

“Nick I need to speak 2 U about Henry.  Meet me @ my aprtmnt.”

“now you know…”

photo1:http://www.flickr.com/photos/congaman/ / CC BY 2.0
photo2:http://www.flickr.com/photos/benny_lin/ / CC BY 2.0

six- Anthroponymy

When asked whom she named her daughter after, Janie Carlisle would reply that she named her after Dylan Thomas. She would then explain that ‘Do not go gentle into that good night’ is her favorite villanelle and that the third and fourth stanzas remind her of every man she ever loved. The truth is that Janie named her daughter after Bob Dylan and though she only likes one of his songs, it brings her to tears every time she hears it. The first time she heard ‘It ain’t me babe’, she was sitting on the hood of her boyfriend’s dad’s Stingray, wearing a yellow bow around her ponytail and a letterman around her homecoming dress. While her best friends were off becoming women on flatbeds and motel beds all across town, she was getting her heart broken to a soundtrack. It was as if her boyfriend called up the radio station and requested the song to help him make his point; that he couldn’t be what she hoped he could be for her.

Inside The Original on Southwest 6th Avenue and Oak Street, tourists come from all corners of the earth to try the Voodoo Doughnut Burger. The main attraction of the self-proclaimed “dinerant”, an amalgamation of the words diner and restaurant, it consists of a juicy beef patty with cheddar cheese on a glazed Voodoo Doughnut, served best with a sack of fries and a potent local microbrew. Nine people are having this meal. One of them is Henry.

“That looks disgustingly delicious…” Chloe is in a trance, watching Henry consume such an unhealthy meal and knowing how little it will affect his fit physique.
“It tastes better than your soup. What is that?” Henry looks out through the glass windows as he talks to her.
“I don’t remember… chicken vegetable something. So, why are we having lunch here instead of up in my apartment like we always do? Do you think we have time? There’s a handicap bathroom behind the bar. I can hold myself up on the railing...” Chloe’s hand massages Henry’s knee under the table.
“We can’t fuck around anymore,” Henry declares decisively, still looking out into the street. Across the street, both members of a teenage couple are yelling at each other over a cryptic text-message from one’s ex. Henry thinks of the song ‘Your Ex-Lover is dead’ by Stars. He looks at Chloe and almost chokes on his beer.
“What are you in love Henry? Are you fucking with me?! We go through this every month, every time a cute little girl with glasses and “something about her” actually falls for your bullshit. We both know that it’s me you call when you find out that that “something” is just baggage and a gag-reflex.”
“It’s none of your goddamn business how I feel about her. Besides, this is about you not her. I can’t sleep with you anymore. You’re bitter and pretentious, you smell like cigarettes and taste like vodka. Sorry babe, but I’m done.” Henry stands up and drops a twenty on the table. He leans forward, kisses Chloe’s cheek then turns for the door.
“Wait Henry, we both know she won’t last a couple of weeks. There’s nothing this bitch can do to you that I can’t do better and longer! And you can tell whatever her name is that I’m only letting her have you for now.”
Henry stops and walks back to Chloe. He takes her hand and looks her in the eyes. “Listen to me very carefully, babe. First of all, go fuck yourself. She’s not a bitch and I don’t fucking belong to you. Second of all, her name is Audrey.”

Francis Carlisle wanted to name his daughter Mirabelle after his mother. His wife, Janie, decided that Mirabelle was a cow’s name and chose Audrey instead. On their first date, Frank took Janie to see Two for the Road, starring Audrey Hepburn and Albert Finney. It was Janie’s first exposure to Audrey Hepburn and she was in awe. Days later she went to a free screening of Breakfast at Tiffany’s in the basement of a local church. She left the church that night a different woman than the one that walked in earlier. It was Holly Golightly that changed her forever.
Janie met Frank only months after Homecoming and had become cold and increasingly cynical. Frank would have succeeded in thawing her heart completely had it not been for Holly Golightly. Walking home from the church that night she determined to live like Holly. She would put on a show for those around her and protect what she had left inside. She would forget about the ridiculous notion of love and instead focus her efforts on status and security. Lucky for Janie, Francis Carlisle was born of old money. And though she was merely using him, Frank truly loved her.
It might have all turned out drastically different if Janie had actually seen the ending to Breakfast at Tiffany’s. That night, in the church basement, a fuse blew and everyone was guided out with candles and flashlights. Janie never saw the ending. She never saw Holly run after Paul in the rain. She never saw Holly run into his arms and submit to love, proving Paul’s belief that people do fall in love and people do belong to each other.
She never watched the movie again until a few days before she went into labor. Frank had bought her a VHS of the film for her birthday. Alone in bed with a pint of strawberry ice cream, she watched the film in its entirety and was drowning in tears when it ended.
Janie had lived her life wrong. She felt as devastated as she did when she learned that Santa Claus wasn’t real, and that her high school sweetheart didn’t love her. She no longer had a reason for closing her heart off and could no longer justify withholding love from her husband. She resolved to start anew with Frank, and with her daughter due in a matter of days. She didn’t know that it was too late.
Janie died within an hour after giving birth to her second chance, a healthy baby girl named Audrey Dylan Carlisle.