Scriptor Press - The ElectroLounge

“Let them say goodbye. Maybe it will help. I never said goodbye to the first girl I
loved. I lost touch with her after we broke up.”
I consider this. It seems like maybe a good option. Suzanne’s acid OJ diet is doing
her no good.
“What about the guy next door?”
“She doesn’t owe him nothing . He’s had his fun. He’s had his jollies but now it’s
over. She’ll feel better & she’ll put on some clothes. Then the Angel of Death will go away &
that’s that.”
“You’re good.”
“But I’m not. Doing all this just makes sense. It’s a story. Something has to happen,
right?”
I look around & see big Jim Reality sitting a couple of stools away at Luna T’s Cafe’s
bar. He raises his glass of gin to me & smiles.
“Say, guy. Welcome back.”
“This is a story, Jim. Something has to happen, right?”
“That’s up to you.”
Rebecca leans hard into me & grabs at my shoulders. “I waited like you said.”
“Good. Thank you.”
“What now?”
“I’m not sure.”
Mr. Bob fetches me a pint of Guinness which I sip at in silence. Rebecca is seated
next to me, working on a sketch of me writing. Before I looked around, I guess.
“Rebecca, I’ve been writing this story for nearly eight months.”
“That’s long for you.”
“Yes. I’ve finished stories longer than this in half the time.”
“So you’re breaking your own rules?”
“In a way. I don’t think I can go back to the old way. This story’s a mess. But it’s
right. It insists upon itself.”
“It’s funny that you still don’t trust it after 289 pages. & eight months & all.”
“That’s true. I don’t. But how can I not?”
Jim Reality raises his glass to me. “Go for it, Ray.”
I pull Rebecca into my embrace. “Thank you.”
“For what? I’ve been pretty hard to handle with my, um, doubts & all.”
“No. That’s not it. Your doubts are real, a valid extension of who you’ve been all
these years.”
“I have a few left if you like them so much.”
“We’re near the end of this story’s second part. Maybe I’ll finish even finish it
tonight.”
“Good.”
“& that Castaneda quote that began this part, about fear, that’s what many of these
pages have been about. Your fears about me, Rich’s about Franny, Suzann’s about David
Time. On & on like that.”
“Yes.”
“But more. I’m almost 35 years old. The year is 1999. I want to be 17 & the year to
be 1968. I can’t make it all right. Not the way I’ve been going about it.
23
The Cenacle / 54 / April 2005