right?”
The questions had formed themselves in the dark. She wanted him to answer honestly, but she was willing to settle for a lie just to believe it. She’d never believed in anything until Jim showed her what she already knew. Her mind had been wiped clean of the past so she could become the monster, a superior human; she understood her responsibility to decide the fates of men by reading dossiers and getting paychecks she would never spend, save for moments of silence in remote places where she could wipe her mind with meditation and solitude.
She didn’t want him to deny her, but she needed him to say it.
She wanted to hear him say “yes.”
“Have you felt love? Do you know what it is, or remember it?”
“If the question’s predictable, then I already have an answer, don’t I?” She could feel him smirk, although it was hidden in the dark.
“I’ll never see you again. I don’t know if I have the power to kill this memory, because you’re inside of me. You helped make me. I’m your design, your daughter, and your student. I know I’ll wonder, and I can’t. I can’t let it weaken me. Don’t say I’ll get over it. The first time a woman falls in love damages her forever.”
“And you said it,” Jim noted. “The word. The emotion.”
“I didn’t know I was going to say it.”
“More than anything else I could want, I want to kill you. I want to know if I’ll feel anything when it happens. I want to know what I’ll see in your blood. That’s the answer, the only one I can give. The only one that’s honest.”
He knew how to make her aware of her body because he was a tantric god of sensation and pleasure, and her thighs chafed now. Like the arms of an anxious cricket, her thighs rubbed themselves together, her legs moving beneath the blanket. His words entered her and played with her spine, flooding her head and lips with warmth.
“Come back for me,” she said. “I want the same thing. I didn’t know it until now, but I want it. We’ll meet on a beach at sunrise or twilight, or maybe we’ll find a thunderstorm and meet upon a plain, while a tornado haunts the roads around us. Come back for me because I can’t let anyone else try. Come back for me so I can be the one.”
“The only commitment we can make to anyone,” Jim nodded. “One of us will kill the other. You want me to promise. To swear by… the inconstant moon?”
“I read Shakespeare, too,” she sat up. “Yes. Swear it. Swear by chaos and pain, change and torture, mortality and emotion.”
“Remove my limbs and set me on fire,” he said.
“Crack open my neck and drink me while I’m still warm.”
“Listen to the tears of the innocent for the sound of my voice.”
“You’ll be back for me,” she said. “I’ll keep this memory alive so I can wait for death. I can wait for you.”
“After I come back from Egypt,” his hands traced the outline of her legs beneath the silk, “I’ll come back for you. You’re the only one who can save me.”
JACK
Comforting the weak. Stopping the speculative voices. Listening to the madness of those who’d witnessed death. Clint Eastwood nodded his head and smiled, or held people close and let them weep onto his shoulder. Soldiers stared at their guns while questioning what they’d seen. Children slept on the laps of strangers, their hair matted with blood that wasn’t theirs. The cowboy listened to those who needed someone to talk to, someone to comfort them. The cowboy wasn’t telling anyone that things would go back to normal; he never said, “It will be okay.”
Jack walked with him and listened. He felt the pangs of shame; he’d been out there spilling blood as if it was a game. These people had lost everything they had, everything they’d known. He had nothing to live for, no career, no girlfriend, and no future.
Deep down, he knew he would change his mind about everything if Jerry showed up.
You fat turd, get yer big ass going and
The questions had formed themselves in the dark. She wanted him to answer honestly, but she was willing to settle for a lie just to believe it. She’d never believed in anything until Jim showed her what she already knew. Her mind had been wiped clean of the past so she could become the monster, a superior human; she understood her responsibility to decide the fates of men by reading dossiers and getting paychecks she would never spend, save for moments of silence in remote places where she could wipe her mind with meditation and solitude.
She didn’t want him to deny her, but she needed him to say it.
She wanted to hear him say “yes.”
“Have you felt love? Do you know what it is, or remember it?”
“If the question’s predictable, then I already have an answer, don’t I?” She could feel him smirk, although it was hidden in the dark.
“I’ll never see you again. I don’t know if I have the power to kill this memory, because you’re inside of me. You helped make me. I’m your design, your daughter, and your student. I know I’ll wonder, and I can’t. I can’t let it weaken me. Don’t say I’ll get over it. The first time a woman falls in love damages her forever.”
“And you said it,” Jim noted. “The word. The emotion.”
“I didn’t know I was going to say it.”
“More than anything else I could want, I want to kill you. I want to know if I’ll feel anything when it happens. I want to know what I’ll see in your blood. That’s the answer, the only one I can give. The only one that’s honest.”
He knew how to make her aware of her body because he was a tantric god of sensation and pleasure, and her thighs chafed now. Like the arms of an anxious cricket, her thighs rubbed themselves together, her legs moving beneath the blanket. His words entered her and played with her spine, flooding her head and lips with warmth.
“Come back for me,” she said. “I want the same thing. I didn’t know it until now, but I want it. We’ll meet on a beach at sunrise or twilight, or maybe we’ll find a thunderstorm and meet upon a plain, while a tornado haunts the roads around us. Come back for me because I can’t let anyone else try. Come back for me so I can be the one.”
“The only commitment we can make to anyone,” Jim nodded. “One of us will kill the other. You want me to promise. To swear by… the inconstant moon?”
“I read Shakespeare, too,” she sat up. “Yes. Swear it. Swear by chaos and pain, change and torture, mortality and emotion.”
“Remove my limbs and set me on fire,” he said.
“Crack open my neck and drink me while I’m still warm.”
“Listen to the tears of the innocent for the sound of my voice.”
“You’ll be back for me,” she said. “I’ll keep this memory alive so I can wait for death. I can wait for you.”
“After I come back from Egypt,” his hands traced the outline of her legs beneath the silk, “I’ll come back for you. You’re the only one who can save me.”
JACK
Comforting the weak. Stopping the speculative voices. Listening to the madness of those who’d witnessed death. Clint Eastwood nodded his head and smiled, or held people close and let them weep onto his shoulder. Soldiers stared at their guns while questioning what they’d seen. Children slept on the laps of strangers, their hair matted with blood that wasn’t theirs. The cowboy listened to those who needed someone to talk to, someone to comfort them. The cowboy wasn’t telling anyone that things would go back to normal; he never said, “It will be okay.”
Jack walked with him and listened. He felt the pangs of shame; he’d been out there spilling blood as if it was a game. These people had lost everything they had, everything they’d known. He had nothing to live for, no career, no girlfriend, and no future.
Deep down, he knew he would change his mind about everything if Jerry showed up.
You fat turd, get yer big ass going and
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