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junkpoetic · 3 years

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Ten

I walked out of the hotel and hopped in Kingston’s cab. I know it probably seemed weird that it’s the third or fourth time I have had him as a driver, but he sits out front like a deer hunter in a tree stand all day long. He wore the same proud smile and drove like the same god damn maniac. It made me miss Diana, and I thought about all the little things in the day that we take for granted. At that moment, for some reason, my heart was with her and the wrinkled photographs of her loved ones that were taped to her dashboard. It was early enough that it was still dark. The roads were still wet, and the air was thin still trying to heal from all the bleeding that fell from the sky for days and days. I cracked my window in the back seat and let the cool hit my broken face as my mind continued to rain. He popped the trunk, and I grabbed my bag when we arrived. I handed him a wad of cash attempting to smile and then walked away. I would most likely never see him again, but probably wouldn’t forget him.

For some reason the airport terminal reminded me of when Elliot was talking about parking lots and lightbulbs. The airport terminal is basically a parking lot with weirder smells and more lightbulbs but the feeling of it was the same. The coming and going remained constant. When I finished with the hurry up, the waiting ensued… I had hours to sit in the recycled air of strangers. After a few moments I realized I couldn’t sit still so I walked around. I waited in line for fifteen minutes for a soft pretzel and a cup of coffee only the soft pretzel place did not sell coffee, so I waited fifteen minutes in another line for a cup of coffee. By the time I got my coffee I had eaten my pretzel and my whole day felt fucked. Then I burned my tongue. I found a bookstore to walk around in. It wasn’t very big, but it was still a bookstore. I picked up a copy of A Separate Peace and immediately put back down. For some reason I have always hated that book. I don’t know, I never finished enough of it to hate it. Maybe I was just having a bad day, or maybe I just really hated it. I think you can feel things without really understanding why you feel them. I have been feeling everything since Elliot… maybe he’s still with me.

I left the bookstore without buying anything. I didn’t really have the brain capacity at that point in time to absorb anything. I was still trying to work through all the abrupt endings that had happened. Other than the silent car ride back to my hotel in Lorelei’s van, I hadn’t had any contact with Juno. Sometimes that’s just the way it goes, we have less control over more things than we think. After a little while longer I fell asleep in a chair in the terminal. I had a dream that I was roaming through the side streets and cutting through backyards with Elliot in the summertime. The weird was the roads, the pavement was incredibly uneven, like an escalator but in an Escher painting or something. It kept getting harder and harder to roam and all we wanted to do was get home. All the houses were the same, but different. The other thing out of place like sunflowers in a snowstorm was that Juno was there with us. A bystander woke me up when it was time to board the plane. It was a quick flight back to South Hinder.

When I got home, I felt like a shell of who I was before I left. I was tired but it was much too early to sleep, not that I had anywhere to be. I tried the best I could to stay outside of my head, but I failed. So, I started writing my story about a marathon, only it had nothing to do with running.

Cara called me a few times, but I didn’t answer. I knew what it would about, and I didn’t feel like breaking my focus to talk. I was well into the first chapter my nose began to bleed all over my keyboard. I wiped it up the best I could and then stuffed cotton up my nose and kept working. I wrote all night and well into the next day. It’s a story about a man named Elliot who lived his life as if were a marathon. He never stopped moving, not once… not even to shake his dick in the shrubbery.

It only took me a few weeks to finish writing, and the day I finished, I had received a phone call from a number I didn’t recognize. I googled the number to see that it was a Boston area code, and I immediately knew who it was. It was Juno Rafferty, and she was calling to inform me that she was pregnant. I hung up the phone feeling all sorts of things, none of them felt good. My head was like the rolling roads in the dream I had at the airport, an Escher painting… fuck.

I walked out into the street and snow began to fall from the darkening November sky. I stood motionless staring at the power lines and the streetlights feeling so disconnected. A moment later all the lights that line the street kicked on and I felt a calm come over me. It was when I looked down toward the end of the street and I saw him, that I knew everything would be okay. I couldn’t tell it was him at first until he smiled, and the streetlamp illuminated him. I adjusted the tracking of my eyes by squinting and suddenly everything came into view so clearly. I smiled back and a moment later he was gone.

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joyffree · 4 years

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#NewRelease avail. on #KindleUnlimited

Title: Matched to His Bear Author: Lorelei M. Hart & Colbie Dunbar Release Date: September 10, 2020 Genre/s: Contemporary MM mpreg romance

Fate doesn’t use dating apps to pair true mates...except when it does.

Blurb

Fate doesn't use dating apps to pair true mates...except when it does.

Alpha Brad Galway is a hot successful lawyer and Beta of his Den with omegas throwing themselves at his feet. From the outside, it appears as though he has everything he could possibly desire. Inwardly, he has a bear clawing to get out—no longer willing to stand by and let his mate go unclaimed. But there’s a problem with his bear’s plan. Brad doesn’t know who or where he is, just that they crossed paths in an airport over a year ago. If he doesn’t figure out how to control his bear soon, he risks losing everything—including his life.

Human omega Gabe Rafferty is excited to start his new job as a professor of English Lit. Ever since a layover in an airport last year, he’s felt like his luck has changed. He can’t explain how or why...but something happened that day, and everything from that point was onward and upward. He just wishes he had someone to share it with.

When Gabe is talked into using a dating app, he isn’t expecting much until he stumbles onto profiles that are fixated on the TV series, Shifter World. And he definitely isn’t anticipating the smoldering alpha who recaptures that feeling he experienced at the airport. Sparks fly, feelings grow, and their worlds are turned upside down in the very best of ways, but is it too late for Brad’s bear?

#matchedtohisbear #mmromance #paranormal #loreleimhart #colbiedunbar @gaybookpromo @ColbieDunbar

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ibroughtthisonmyselfpixels · 7 years

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I have stuff to work through. Bear with me.

Lynn and Cid

None of their shared life in University and out could have prepared Lynn and Cid for how strong their Empty Nest Syndrome would be. The beds of the boys have long been made, and neither games nor comics are the same without someone younger who idolizes everything you do to share them with.

The only thing that stops them from touching base with Lorelei again is knowing she has her own things to deal with...

Kenneth and Cinder

Cinder resents Kenneth, in a way. She knows she shouldn’t - everything that happened with their children, it just got in the way - but she does.

She’s reminded of why every time she sees light glisten off of the lamp in the far flung corner of the cupboard.

Carlotta and Dwyn

Dwyn’s dead, but Carlotta never stopped working. Most nights, and most days these days, she’s out of the ghostly house they share, leaving the doddering old cat alone on the second best chair.

What’s the point of having eternity if you can’t spend it with each other?

Max and Annie

Max can do as much exercise and therapy as he wants, but the bullet can never be removed. It’s forever a reminder of the cost of true love, of how much a life or ten can be worth, of the impact he had on the BC world whether he likes it or not, stuck in his right shoulder.

Sometimes it takes longer than usual to remind himself a glitchy arm is better than no arm at all.

Lithodora and Perimele

Whatever life Lithodora lives - heads or tails - someone has to die. The woman is a curse, let loose onto an unsuspecting public, even onto a vampire who’s not unused to curses.

Do blights deserve what they get?

McQuoddy and Rose Quartz

The woman calls from another room for help with her pearl necklace. The man quickly slips a potion, decades old and never used, back into his pocket.

Eyes the color of spite and dust watch from another world.

Lidon and Quartz

A demon, a chicken, and six children - seven, counting Trevor Baxtor - is a complete and happy family. A bigger one than Lidon has ever had, and a more loving one than Quartz ever saw.

They should be happy, right?

Amelia and Laurel

... ...

I think this one speaks for itself.

Castor and Cupid

Cupid hasn’t thought once about his wife in three, four months. He thinks of Grey even less.

He wants, one day, to say the same of Castor - to put them aside as easily as they seemed to discard him in favor of the bleeding and dying.

Noe and Prax

Something flickers in Prax whenever he looks at the blue-haired boy, even while Monokuma chatters shit in the background to try and drown it out. It’s like attraction, but - but not at the same time; the kind of attraction you feel when you’ve kissed someone so often you know their lips intimately.

But that’s fucking stupid; they only first met a couple of days ago, right?

Cecil and Euphemia

Euphemia often gets the sense that ae and aer fiance are the most important people in the world. But it’s an infrequent sense, usually when that world is at its worst, and ae usually dismisses it as human-thought interference.

Cecil knows it to be true for all the wrong reasons.

Myron and Chloe

Ahmed proved to be just as picky an eater as his ‘father’; he picks the fake carrots and sprouts out of the veggie rolls and just eats the lettuce. Chloe is acting like it’s Myron’s fault for this.

It’s actually hers, but she’s too proud to say so.

Nix and Blackcurrant

The risk comes in putting all of your career plans on hold for a fling with Nix Brightside. The reward comes in how devoted a fan, lover, parent and child you end up with all at once.

The pain comes in knowing that, sooner or later, you’re going to have to leave all of that behind for good.

Aisling and Ginette

One, a victim of the blade, whose scars spread into blossoms the second zer heart touched home. One, a victim of far deeper and more subtle cuts, the evidence of which cannot be removed so easily.

Aisling had it easy compared to them, and yet - ungratefully? - ze still looks over zer shoulder when in the palace gardens at night.

Cordelia and Missy

Rafferty still hasn’t come out. He knows what will happen if he does: what was once ‘I love you’ will become ‘you lied to me’, screeched at the top of Missy’s lungs, and after a twice-broken mug is thrown at him a third time, she’ll wander off into the night.

And he’ll know she wants to find Farha, and he won’t have the guts to pursue.

#dangan ronpa spoilers/#writing #not using all the OTP tags there'd be too many to count #you can probably tell which ones I had to get off my chest the most

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thefaeriereview · 4 years

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Blitz: Matched to His Bear

https://ift.tt/3bFNFeU

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Matched to His Bear

Author: Lorelei M. Hart & Colbie Dunbar

Publisher: Surrendered Press

Cover Artist: Megan J. Parker-Squiers

Release Date: September 10, 2020

Genre/s: Contemporary M/M Romance, MM mpreg romance, paranormal romance

Trope/s: Shifters. Fated love. Shifter hero/Human hero. Bond or die

Themes: Blind dates. Dating. Jealous pack member. Losing control of his bear

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: approx. 35,000 words

Even though it’s part of a dating app series, each book can be read as a standalone.

This is the second book in the series. Matched to His Wolf was the first.

Buy Links - Available on Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US | Amazon UK

Fate doesn’t use dating apps to pair true mates...except when it does.

Blurb Fate doesn't use dating apps to pair true mates...except when it does. Alpha Brad Galway is a hot successful lawyer and Beta of his Den with omegas throwing themselves at his feet. From the outside, it appears as though he has everything he could possibly desire. Inwardly, he has a bear clawing to get out—no longer willing to stand by and let his mate go unclaimed. But there’s a problem with his bear’s plan. Brad doesn’t know who or where he is, just that they crossed paths in an airport over a year ago. If he doesn’t figure out how to control his bear soon, he risks losing everything—including his life. Human omega Gabe Rafferty is excited to start his new job as a professor of English Lit. Ever since a layover in an airport last year, he’s felt like his luck has changed. He can’t explain how or why...but something happened that day, and everything from that point was onward and upward. He just wishes he had someone to share it with. When Gabe is talked into using a dating app, he isn’t expecting much until he stumbles onto profiles that are fixated on the TV series, Shifter World. And he definitely isn’t anticipating the smoldering alpha who recaptures that feeling he experienced at the airport. Sparks fly, feelings grow, and their worlds are turned upside down in the very best of ways, but is it too late for Brad’s bear?

Matched to His Bear is the second book in the sweet with knotty heat Dates of Our Lives, an M/M mpreg shifter dating app romance brought to you by the popular co-writing duo of Lorelei M Hart and Colbie Dunbar. It features a human who stumbles into a world he never knew existed thanks to a silly little soap opera, an alpha who is losing his humanity, a stalker bear who turns out to be more trouble than anyone could’ve suspected, and an adorable baby. If you like your shifters hawt, your omegas strong, your mpreg with heart, and your HEAs complete with true mates and a bundle of joy, one-click today Excerpt The kitchen island was covered in bowls, pans, and other stuff. “Has the food delivery guy been and gone?” “Nope. We’re cooking breakfast.” He glanced at his watch. “More like brunch.” “You cook?” I asked, holding up a bunch of green things and studying it. “You don’t?” “No,” I replied. “I do,” he informed me. “And about the whole ‘we’ cooking thing…” My voice trailed away as Brad handed me a wooden board, a knife, and an onion. “What do I do with this?” He grinned and kissed the end of my nose. “Can you chop it, please, Gabe?” “Okay.” I was game for anything. I placed the onion on the board, and with both hands on the knife, brought it down over my head, and missed. Though I got the board, the knife sticking out of it reminded me of the aftermath of a pirate battle in a swashbuckling book. “Gabe!” “Sorry, I’ll try again.” Brad stood behind me and murmured, “Here lies our dearly departed knife…” “Did I kill it?” “Almost. Let’s try again.” He placed his hands on mine, but I wriggled my ass against his crotch. A sharp intake of breath from him had me giggling. He pressed himself against my body and placed his lips on my ear. Food first, and then I’m taking you back to bed.” “Mmmm.” “First we have to peel the onion, and then we chop it.” But by the time he cut into it, I was blinking tears from my eyes. “Owww! It hates me.” Brad took over and I sat on a stool. “You watching, Gabe?” “Mmmm. Yes. Taking it all in,” I said as I leaned sideways and peered at his ass. That wasn’t a fib. I was paying attention, just not to what he was doing. “Liar.” He held up an oddly shaped red lump. “Know what this is?” “Something you’re going to cook?” I was quite proud of my answer. “A pepper. A red pepper.” “I thought pepper was something that came out of a grinder.” Brad slapped a hand on his brow. “How is it you’ve managed to survive in the world up until now? And have no idea what you’re putting in your mouth.” And as he said it, his mouth formed the perfect O. He understood the hole he’d fallen into, and I was going to tease him about it. I tilted my head to the side. “I always know what I’m eating, but I’m not talking about food.” I grabbed a dish cloth and swatted his ass. He leveled a glowering look in my direction. “Keep distracting me and we’ll never get brunch.” “Promise?” But my belly grumbled and I bowed, awarding the first round to him. He made quick work of cutting the pepper, threw oil in a pan, and asked me to stir the red pepper and onions while he assembled herbs and spices, which were all shades of red or brown. I peered at the mixture as I stirred, not sure what it was supposed to be. “You can leave it for now. We’ll keep an eye on it,” he told me as he turned down the heat and opened a tin of tomatoes. “Time for extracurricular activities, I asked?” I swooped under his arms and bobbed up, kissing him on the mouth. “You are a delightful distraction,” he croaked as my tongue flicked over his teeth. “But let’s finish cooking and then you’ll be my prisoner, unable to leave the bed for the rest of the day.” I clapped my hands. “Are you going to tie me up? “I wasn't planning on it, but if you behave…”

About the Authors

Lorelei M. Hart

Lorelei M. Hart is the cowriting team of USA Today Bestselling Authors Kate Richards and Ever Coming now joined by their friend, Ophelia Heart. Friends for years, the three decided to come together and write one of their favorite guilty pleasures: Mpreg. There is something that just does it for them about smexy men who love each other enough to start a family together in a world where they can do it the old-fashioned way ;).

Social Media Links

Facebook | Newsletter Sign-up

Colbie Dunbar

My characters are sexy, hot, adorable—and often filthy—alphas and omegas. Feudal lords with dark secrets, lonely omegas running away from their past, and alphas who refuse to commit.

Lurking in the background are kings, mafia dons, undercover agents and highwaymen with a naughty gleam in their eye.

As for me? I dictate my steamy stories with a glass of champagne in one hand. Because why not?

Social Media Links

Blog/Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram

Newsletter Sign-up | Pinterest

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

Follow the tour and check out the other blog posts here

via Blogger https://ift.tt/3jWMzOG

#Blogger #gaybookpromos #book blitz #Contemporary Fiction #Contemporary Romance #LGBTQ+#M/M #mPreg

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junkpoetic · 3 years

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Nine

I did not sleep at all that night. I kept hearing Elliot coughing and I couldn’t tell if it was in my head, or really him through the wall. I tried to think of pleasant things like the conversation with Juno, and sunflowers blooming in snowstorms. I got up to piss and stopped in my tracks when I thought I heard coughing, but it was nighttime silence when I really listened. I was exhausted by the time light revealed itself. Lorelei was picking us up in her Volkswagon van. The same kind of van that old hippies drive so you know that they’re cool, or at least that they once were. The van looked old, but it wasn’t. Like everything these days, it was something pretending to be something that once was. I don’t know why it bothered me, it really, but seeing their house last night and then seeing this van… I don’t know, I think I am still upset about everything with Elliot.

The rain was torrential enough that I questioned whether or not what we were doing was safe. Elliot was all in though. He looked the part too, and when he got in the water, he looked like he had been doing it for years. He always said that everything in life was feel and I truly believe that’s how things come so naturally to him. He felt truly everything. I feel like if you cracked him open like a pinata he would bleed sunshine and nightmares and everything in between. If I hadn’t seen him bleed, I would assume his blood was iridescent. In truth I am just having a hard time with seeing him so defeated in the bathroom. I can’t help but wonder how bad the diagnosis really is, and if there is help but he’s too proud or ashamed or whatever to ask for it.

I hated feeling the way I felt and getting hit by waves of grief when he was still very much alive. I tried to bury whatever stage of grief I was swimming through in order to feel better. It really was an exciting day ahead of us and my stupid brain was ruining it. I put my armor on as we neared Nauset Beach. The blustery air shook the hippy van back and forth on the highway as if it were a giant hand and we were in a matchbox car in some American boy’s bedroom. It’s hard not to wonder what that would be like, if we were just a simulation, a toy for some supernatural’s entertainment. I try to stop myself when I get to thinking that way as well. It’s quite easy to feel empty and insignificant, I don’t need to feed that monster. I had been falling through funnels of those types of thoughts a lot more since Cara left. It felt good to be away… I looked forward to documenting Elliot’s marathon and creating a plot to finally write a book and all of that came crashing down eleven miles in. I suppose I had several other plots to draw up now, I just feel ruined. At least I could take solace in the fact that time heals everything one way or another.

When I opened the sliding door of the van and stepped the wind nearly knocked me over. The adrenaline rush made laugh. Carrying our boards was damn near impossible. In fact, if you angled your board just right, and held on tight, you just might take flight. We walked up through the dunes toward the thrashing water. I had not seen waves like that before other than on television.

There was a certain comfort of being in the midst of the storm, like nothing could go wrong because everything is already going wrong. Like the feeling you can’t possibly fuck up any further. Although, I never felt the wind in such a way. It was spinning and spraying in all directions. Nothing felt right, everything felt bizarre, Elliot was laughing at things that weren’t funny, he acted like he had just snorted cocaine… I don’t care if he did, it was just weird. Juno Rafferty didn’t seem to want to leave my side which I didn’t mind, it was just uncharacteristic. Lorelei and Rami kept to themselves while Madeline was in street clothes being Madeline. Even the contrast of the ocean was off, the white waves breaking on the black water seemed off. The waves brighter than white like brand new teeth against a black so dark it was hollow.

Elliot and I went out together. It reminded of the first time we took the field together a million years ago in little league. We walked out of the dugout slowly refusing to crumble to our nerves that kept us prisoners. I played second base; he was at short. We had extra-large wads of Big-League Chew in our mouths and eye black beneath our eyes to go along with our high socks and greased up mitts. I remember looking over at him as we took the field for the first time ever… it was almost startling how focused he was. It didn’t take long for either of us to trip and fall on a rolling wave. Usually, we’d laugh at one another when something like that happened, but we didn’t laugh in that moment. I was surprised when I looked over and realized that I was a few steps ahead of him. Normally he’d be a few steps ahead of me, not hanging back in the balance using his board as a shield to fend off oncoming waves. When we found our position, that was when we waited. We stood waist deep in the black rolling water waiting. I won’t lie I was waiting for him to take the lead, because he always did, that’s I was used to. He was Batman, I was Robin, and it was always perfect that way.

I should have known something was wrong when he told me to go first but I got lost in the confidence of my own head. The confidence that Juno Rafferty put there… I was drowning in it, and it felt so fucking good to be drowning in confidence. I felt superhuman… I felt like Elliot. So, I went first… I gripped my board white knuckle tight trying my best to feel everything beneath me. The uneven earth, the sway of the water, the taste of the salt, and the smell of the wind… for moment everything stopped. I swear to God when I tell this, I mean everything stopped. The wind died. The water stood still like glass, I felt it would break if I moved, even the rain stopped, and this is where you won’t believe me… I saw the sun flicker and a rainbow appear. It was a moment so fast, and so intense, yet so clear. It was crystal fucking clear. And then I heard Elliot’s voice. He said something encouraging but I couldn’t quite make it out followed by something along the lines of “I am right behind you” and then he said the last word I would ever hear him say… Now! That was when the lump rolled with force and turned into a wave that carried me as I paddled. He said it again Now! And I popped up and believe me when I tell you that I was weightless. I road that monstrous green wave for what felt like miles and miles and miles. I road it all the way to shore and up the sand to the dunes. I kept it riding it through the dunes to the sidewalks and then through the side streets of Boston in the rain. Maybe it was the rain that made possible. Maybe it was the rain that carried me, but it didn’t stop there. Suddenly everything turned white, and then there was color everywhere and I was moving at an impossible rate. I thought about pinching myself to ensure that I wasn’t dreaming but I didn’t want to ruin the feeling that I felt. It was all things incredible. Every euphoric memory in my brain bled out onto a canvas before my eyes. I saw my wedding day, my days at college, I saw the night I lost my virginity, the first time I smoked weed, I saw my first kiss, I even saw my first dog… I saw Rocky. The last thing that I saw was my favorite memory… I saw the day that I met my best Elliot. I saw us, we were five. We were so untarnished and full of life. Our voices, I could hear them, so young and beautiful and our hair was so stringy and blonde. That was when everything slowed down and the tape began to fast forward so fast that it unraveled and fell off the spool. I no longer saw beautiful things. I no longer felt beautiful things, in fact I felt scared as came back to reality to the sound of alarm that Elliot had vanished. He was supposed be right behind me but only his board followed to shore. It bobbled back and forth between the crashing waves and the undertow for a while before Juno ran and grabbed it. She set it on the beach next me as I just sat and watched helplessly as the ocean devoured Elliot. Even I wanted to, I couldn’t move. My body, my soul… everything went numb.

I sat there helpless the entire time in the shallow as the rain fell on me while the waves continued to roll through me. I could no longer the cold. I could no longer feel anything at all. I watched rescue squads and divers arrive and listened to the sounds of panic. Choppers hovered above possible spots of disappearance attempting to illuminate the ocean in hopes of finding Elliot, but he was gone. Looking back, I knew it all along. I knew it because I could feel it. I ignored because I am human and that is what we do with things that are uncomfortable… we ignore them. Everything was so clear in hindsight. It was as if he knew the wave was coming for him and he wanted to go to first… I don’t if he was trying to protect me or what, but I always followed him, it was never the other way. I knew something wasn’t right when I looked and saw his surfboard trying to vomit a rainbow and eat a wave simultaneously… he never held back. He let me have his golden wave. He knew the black ones that followed would swallow him and he knew it would be quick and painless. He knew there would be no more coughing and no more illness. There would be no more nothing. Just what once was… and he got to end it on his terms. I should have known that he wouldn’t wait for death to coming knocking. I should have known he’d press eject on his own terms.

I got dropped off at my hotel later that night as the hard rain began to wane. Juno said she would try check in on me or at least call. I didn’t care either way. I took a long hot shower, I was going wait until the water went cold, but hotel water never goes cold. At least not this hotel. I had the water as hot as my skin could stand, I wanted to wash everything clean. I stood still in it until I could no longer stand it. Afterwards I put on grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt that we had purchased at Motion Surf days prior. It had the silhouette of a surfer riding in a barrel and the script on it read “A way to be free”.

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junkpoetic · 3 years

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Eight

It turned out I smashed my phone amid my drunken stupor. Elliot had taken it from me so I wouldn’t call her and say something I would regret. By the time I could find the nearest shop and get a new phone, I had three missed calls from Juno Rafferty. I didn’t quite know how to react. Part of me wanted to call her, the angel on my shoulder told me to let it be, it’s only been a few days, leave it at what it was… a good memory. Naturally, I listened to the devil in me and called her. I decided to play dumb, like I didn’t remember the night, which wasn’t a total lie.

“I am sorry I should have told you.” She said.

“Told me what?” I replied.

There was a pause… “That I am married. I don’t want to be if it’s any consolation.”

There was a longer pause. “Oh.” Was all I could muster.

“You good?” She asked.

“Yeah, ha, sorry, I just don’t know what to say.”

“I understand.” She said softly.

“Listen, I don’t want to be the green grass on the other side of the fence. That grass is green because its painted, not because its real. I can’t be plastic.”

“I need you to breathe for a moment.” She said.

I took a breath and then a few more.

“I like you.” She said.

“Okay.” I replied still not quite sure what to say.

“I am supposed to listen to that voice in my head. But I don’t want to.” She explained.

“Which voice is that?” I asked, curiouser.

“The one that says I am supposed to be good.”

“Oh, your super ego?” I laughed.

“Yeah that, I am more a fan of the Id.”

“Aren’t we all?”

“I don’t want to be good.” Juno whispered.

“I don’t want to be good either.” I whispered back.

“Good.” She said.

I gulped. “Do you want to meet up?”

“I am in the parking lot… don’t judge.” She laughed.

“Are you coming up, or do you want me to come down?”

“Does it matter as long as we’re both coming?” She guffawed.

“Wow.”

“Come down.” She said.

“Got it.” I laughed.

I chose not to wait for the elevator and instead practically sprinted down the several flights of stairs through the lobby into the parking lot.

Oh my God, your poor face!” She said caressing my cheek lightly.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” I laughed.

“Did you hear me say bring your wet suit?” She said laughing.

“No, I hung up too quick.” I replied, out of breath.

“It’s fine… we’ll stop at Motion Surf.”

“We’re surfing?”

“No, I’m just wearing this.” She said sarcastically pointing out the fact that she was wearing a wet suit.

“Right…” I laughed.

“So how much time does your friend have?” She asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

“How do you know?”

“He doesn’t look all that well… the marathon… I put two and two together.”

“Oh… yeah, he won’t tell me.”

“You’re a good friend. I won’t speak of it. I was just curious. Let’s have fun now.”

“Yeah, okay, let’s have fun now.”

She parked her car in the parking lot behind motion surf. “Can I kiss you?” She asked.

“That’s incredibly nice of you to ask but I”

She kissed me hard, and I kissed her back. After a moment she stopped and looked me up and down before jumping out of the car. “Be right back.”

I sat in the passenger seat smiling like a fool. If anything, Elliot’s circumstance has taught me not to worry so much about the future. So we’re staying in the moment letting one fall into another like dominos.

“I still can’t believe you can surf in October…” I said to her when she got back into the driver’s seat.

“Why’s that?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have any issue with it. It’s just like sunflowers in a snowstorm or something.”

“Sunflowers in a snowstorm?” She laughed.

“Yeah… Eskimos in El Paso? Should I keep going?”

“Ha! Yes please.” She replied.

“Hemingway in Hollywood?”

There was a pause “…Nah, you ruined it.” She laughed.

“Damn.” I laughed.

The beach was much more populated than the day before. The tropical storm was greasing the ocean with incredible surf, so most of the diehards were catching it. I sat on the hard wet sand watching Juno surf. I didn’t really have the ambition to try it myself, but it felt good to be a part of it. Juno thought otherwise, when she finished a few runs, she hollered for me to swim out. I reluctantly tiptoed into the ice-cold ocean slowly at first and then I tripped on a wave and fell in the shallow fully submersing myself to the wetness. It was much easier to understand the stages of waves when I could see the pregnant lumps lurking on the horizon rising higher as they rolled toward us like a train with never ending foamy black boxcars. I centered myself on her board and followed her instructions of when to paddle and to keep my head down. Before I realized what was happening, I heard her yell POP UP! I made a hypnotic jerk like burpee motion and thrusted to my feet and for a moment I was weightless. It was such a high. I looked back and saw her in the water behind me smiling, which was a mistake, because when you look back, you’re not looking forward, and when you’re on a surfboard… I fell off and the wave came crashing down overtop of me. I resurfaced to the most beautiful laughter I had ever heard in my entire life. I tried a few more times and failed a few more times before we took a break. I sat on the beach next to her watching the birds and other surfers thinking about beautiful designs as we mindlessly dug our toes into the cold wet sand. I was cold in my wet suit and the salt stung in my wounds. It was a good sting, cleansing. I almost felt new again.

Lorelei invited us over that night, Elliot invited Madeline to tag along with us. It was a casual dinner, Lorelei put out an array of food, Rami worked on getting a fire started in their courtyard. There was a pocket without rain so we were going to try and take advantage of it. The smell of their wealth wafted in the purified air. They were successful but not the least bit superior. Elliot picked her and Rami’s brains apart about surfing and other things as the Red Sox and Yankees played against one another on the muted television. I was lost in my own head about the day that was behind me feeling warm and clean from all the laughter and saline.

After dinner we sat around the fire. Madeline sang along as Rami played Tom Petty’s Wildflowers on his acoustic guitar. I watched the way Elliot looked at her and wondered what thoughts might be going through his mind. His smile looked much different that night than I had ever seen. I wondered if it had always been that way and I just hadn’t notice but that wasn’t the case. I had known him for the duration of our lives, and I don’t know that I had ever seen that particular look on his face. He looked relax and accomplished. He looked happy.

The wind picked up lightly and chimes in the near distance dangled slowly like angelic marionettes grazing just enough to sound heavenly. I tried not to let my mind slip any further than the tiny space of the alluring moment we all shared together right then. Juno sat across from me while the fire roared and danced between us. I gazed through the thin orange flames into her eyes, and she looked into mine. She spoke to me.

“Paulie, another glass of Pinot?” Elliot said audibly, startling the electricity between us.

“Yeah… yeah. Sure.” I said and handed him my warm empty wine glass.

He disappeared inside and was gone for quite a while, long enough for me to get up and go check on him. Rami distracted the party with a montage of Led Zeppelin songs. He was drunk enough to think he could sing like Robert Plant, though he could not even come close. I walked into the kitchen and noticed our wine glasses were half-filled sitting on the granite countertop. I could hear the faint sound of coughing, so I followed it through rooms and rooms until I came to origin of the sound. I was standing in a dark room in front of a white door with gleams of light shooting out from underneath it. I stood and listened to what sounded like death on the other side of the door. His inhaling and exhaling played cat and mouse chasing one another between coughs until breathing became nearly impossible. Water was running and I envisioned he might have his head beneath attempting to drink to soothe the cough but when you can’t breathe, you can’t breathe… you choke. The sound of a gulp swallowing hard and then being rejected back up his esophagus and out of his mouth was the straw that broke the camels back for me. I knew he’d be embarrassed to be seen in such way by anyone including me, but I surrendered to the sound of suffering and barged into the bathroom. His face was dripping with water, sweat, and blood. The white porcelain was spattered red as if a bludgeoning occurred. I put my hand on his back and he looked at me and that’s when I saw it for the first time. Death. He looked at me breathing heavily still trying to muzzle his lungs from the rampant barking, relentless like a dog when then mail arrives.

“I’m good.” He muttered.

“Fuck.” I replied. “You’re not good. It’s okay. You’re not good.”

“I will be though. I’m good.” He said again.

He turned the water back on and splashed several cups on his face with his hands until the blood thinned and disappeared. He wiped the residue off his face with the white hand towel that hung on a large brass tooth like hook next to the vanity. He threw the towel in the garbage underneath the sink and found a new one in the bottom drawer to hang on the hook so no one would notice the towel missing. He walked out of the bathroom ahead of me without saying anything. I stood for a moment looking at the drops of water that painted the mirror running all the way down to the porcelain in a path of their own reflection. There was a solitary drop of blood on the floor that he had not scene. I unraveled a few sheets of toilet tissue and wiped it up. I don’t know why but I crumpled it and put it in my pocket rather than flushing it. I turned the light out and retraced my steps back through the dark rooms and into the kitchen where my glass of wine still sat, now alone, half-filled. I then returned to the fire where Elliot sat sipping wine and smiling again as he watched Madeline dance and sing along with Juno, Lorelei, and Rami as he played a bouncy acoustic rendition of George Michael’s Faith.

It felt like we were gone a lot longer than we were although it appeared our absence went unnoticed. I wanted to forget that moment ever happened, but it was branded in my brain. Elliot was now joining in the singing a dancing as rain began to fall lightly on the fire that illuminated all of us. I did not feel like dancing, I felt more like dying. I sipped wine and waited for the night to conclude. Tomorrow will be a better day, I said to myself as the rain began to fall a little harder.

#literature

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junkpoetic · 3 years

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Seven

I woke to a missed call from Louise. She left a message explaining that she was just checking in and that she had tried calling Elliot a few times with no luck, so she called me to make sure we were still alive. I found so much irony with the way she worded things, it made me wonder if the universe was constantly trolling us. When I told Elliot that she called he just shrugged and moved on to the next sentence. It had to be very difficult to be married to Elliot… I know I have no place to say that because I am the one whose wife left. Everything I have conveyed about him is true, but if you really knew him, if he let you close, it was magnified and probably impossible to put it all in ink. I often wonder if Louise knows him as well as I thought she did, for her to have been able to stay with him, I figured she must. He is a cyclone; he must keep spinning and the only way you could grasp would be if he let you.

We met down in the lobby for coffee. He was slow to get around again. I wonder if the marathon attempt destroyed his stamina. He looked like a corpse when I saw him in the hospital that day. I would have thought him dead if his eyes were closed, but they were just the opposite, beaming to match his smile. He almost had a look like he had destroyed an opponent, like his mind defeated his body or something. He wanted to go over the tapes and talk about the feelings that each mile elicited. Even though I was in communication with him, he said he’d have a lot more to add. I almost wish it would have possible to tap into his brain when he was really hitting his stride. To be able to see his synapses firing big colors like fireworks in an endless sea of sky; like I said, so incredible and beautiful putting it in ink onto paper and truly getting it right would be impossible. Maybe hearing his brain directly from him will allow you get to grasp onto of the whisps of his cyclone.

I pressed record.

“The first mile is like death. It’s composed of eternal hurt. I don’t know if I would call it purgatory… does such an awful place exist? It must, right? If we can imagine it then it exists. It’s a constant trudge that sends a ripple from the soles of your feet, all the way up through your bones and back again bouncing like a sonic wave. The beat goes back and forth and eventually a current is created and that current tries to pull you under. It sounds incredibly fucked up right? Like we create our demise. That’s the first mile… setting up the breakdown.” He explained.

“Has it always been that way? Even when you ran more consistently?”

“I think so. For me anyways, the first mile always felt like quicksand or as if you were running in wet boots.”

“How long does it take to melt that first mile?”

“I think that depends on experience. The taste of it still lingers into the beginning of the second mile.” He explained.

“The taste of what? Death?”

“Yeah. Death.” He laughed.

“On Monday the taste lasted for probably two and a half miles. It was the first sign of my body telling me that it hated me. I hadn’t exerted myself like that since I qualified. Then once I qualified, I did nothing. It’s like studying your ass off for a test and then once you pass it, you forget what you know. I have been that way my whole life with things. My mind just progresses to the next thing. I think that’s why when I found out how bad things were, I was able to shrug it off.”

“Have you shrugged off entirely?”

“I don’t think so. I think it’s inevitable for that taste to linger. It’s so profound you know? The monster always looms.”

“Very heavy.”

“Yeah.”

“It might have been better if I could have listened to music.” He teased.

“Ha, yeah, sorry about that… music always makes it better.”

“Mile three I started to feel good. Like suddenly I could remember the answers to the test. The dust fell off the muscle and I could run and feel good doing it. Emptying my bladder helped too.”

“Is the high real?”

“Yes, it’s very real.”

“Can you describe it? Did you feel it on Monday?”

“Yeah. I felt it maybe miles five through nine or ten? How far did I go?”

“I think just over eleven is when you broke down.”

“That’s right. My run tracker was still on, it kept spouting off in the ambulance. I think including the ride to the hospital, I hit a half marathon.” Elliot smirked.

“That’s something!” I laughed. “Tell me more about the high.”

“It’s a feeling of infinity. Like either the fog is lifted, or you become it… a weightless apparition. You’re familiar with the hypnotic jerk?”

“Hypnotic jerk?”

“No, no, like that feeling of falling when you’re about to fall asleep. That jolt of lightning through your entire body and then the fade into a comfortable nothingness. A dream.”

“Oh, yeah, I never knew what that was called. That’s pretty good, I like that.”

“Like lightning in your bones Paulie, and all the lights turn green. You feel like you can go forever.” He explained.

“How long does it last?”

“Well, that also depends. Not very long. I think if I had prepared better and was fighting illness it would have lasted a little longer. I definitely would have finished the race. That would have been a high in and of itself.

His eyes grew bleary while answering the last question. I could tell it bothered him the way it all played out. Even in sickness he still felt immortal for the most part. Falling and failing was the undeniable proof that he wasn’t.

Later that afternoon we put our wet suits on and went out to Nauset beach. The cab driver didn’t have room for our boards which was understandable. I feel like Kingston would have made room, but it was a much smoother driver this time. She was an elderly woman named Diana. She had old photographs of people she loved taped to her dashboard. The corners were curled and the tape that held them had yellowed. There’s no way that the people in the photos looked the same, these looked like they were from lifetimes ago. I wonder if she still had them in her life or if they were just pieces of memories that she held on too much too long. I couldn’t help but wonder if other passengers felt the same way that I did about the photos. I wonder if Elliot is thinking things about them. If he was, he’d probably be thinking something poetic like we’re all just pictures on life’s dashboard. I couldn’t help but laugh inside my head.

Elliot paid Diana to wait for us because we were expecting rain and it was a cold day for only being October. Maybe we just weren’t used to being in autumn on the coast. When we came through the dunes and became face to face with the Atlantic, I thought about how Elliot described the high. So clean and clear… purity. There were more people than I expected scattered about the beach among the wet sand and the seagulls. Elliot began running toward a cluster of gulls that sat on the fringe of foamy land and screamed as he ran through like a child running through a sprinkler, only birds. He kept running into the salty water and dove headfirst into the nearest wave. When he came back up for air, he let out scream of freedom. The water couldn’t have been more than fifty-five degrees. I screamed in a different way when I dove in. I could hear Elliot laughing when I came back above water. We didn’t stay long. We watched a group of surfers for a little while to try and get an idea but with the relentless wind against our wet faces we had to call it a day. Surfing should be fun… at least now we know what we’re dealing with.

Diana yelled at us when we climbed back into the cab wet and sandy. Elliot said he’d take care of her for the trouble, and I am sure he did. He always took care of people. When we got back, we returned to our rooms to clean up before meeting in the lobby. We walked around the streets of Boston until we were hungry. I hadn’t talked to Juno much that day, and I was surprised I felt a missing. It was a feeling I had not felt in years. It felt really good to feel. There was a guitar player at the pub we went to, he sounded like a young Bob Dylan. We got drunk and laughed together as we filled our bellies with clam chowder. Rain from a supposed tropical storm that ran up the entire east coast began falling. This was the storm Lorelei and Juno said would make for excellent surfing conditions. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. The Red Sox game was on almost every television in the crowded bar room and the cacophony of clanking and camaraderie while the hard rain fell outside was such a comfortable warm feeling.

It wasn’t long before my night took a turn. Juno Rafferty entered the pub, and she wasn’t alone. Half of me felt like hiding, the other half felt like dying. I no longer felt the missing. I now felt a little broken. I hoped she wouldn’t notice me, but she did. She approached our table and introduced to her husband Matthew. I don’t really know how the rest of the night want. I felt that jolt, that hypnotic jerk. I felt the feeling of falling and it wasn’t comfortable. I became one with the fog, a ghost, and I didn’t feel the least bit high. And I drank an amount of alcohol that could arguably kill a man and if Elliot wasn’t there I just may have died. It was his turn to save my life night.

The last thing I remember was stumbling onto wet concrete and trying to teach myself how to walk again. Then I felt my face kiss the dirty ground and blackness followed. I woke the next in my room covered in mud and blood and the feeling as if I had thrown from a train traveling at heartbreak speed. All the lights turned red, and it felt like my entire existence stopped on a dime. I walked into the bathroom and saw myself in the mirror. Eyes black and blue and bloodshot, my face cut up, and apparently, I had spent some time vomiting and spitting blood. The bathroom looked like murder and I felt dead. Elliot walked in to check me. I could tell he was trying not laugh, which me want to laugh.

“Fuck off.” I said.

And he could no longer hold back his laughter so naturally I couldn’t either. I’ll be honest, it hurt like hell to laugh I had to wonder if I broke rib… but I needed that laughter more anything right then and there. I think the weight of everything Elliot was going through finally broke me. I couldn’t help but wonder how he could keep it together. Maybe he felt strength in knowing the forecast. Knowledge of death fed his strength to live, which was already strong in the first place. It was as if his secret gave him superpowers or something I don’t know. I struggled through a piece of toast and half a glass of orange juice as Elliot wore a shit eating grin as I cringed painfully.

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junkpoetic · 3 years

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Six

The next morning, Elliot was a bit ornery about what we should do for the day. He didn’t seem to want to get out of bed and grab breakfast, so I met Juno in Quincy Market at a place called Neptune’s Café. The walls were painted cold blue; however the atmosphere was warm. I left

“Why are you so intrigued by my name?” She asked.

“I don’t know, it’s a good name, I like it.”

“You’ve never asked me where I am from.”

“Yes, I did, Winnipeg.” I replied.

“No, I was born there, I am from Jersey, I am actually going there soon.”

“How soon?” I asked accidentally.

“How soon is now?” she smirked.

“I love that song! But aren’t you from where you are born?”

“Not necessarily.” She arranged her thoughts in her head before continuing. “I live in Boston. I am from Jersey. I was born in Winnipeg.”

“Okay, so where you’re from, is where you grew up?”

“I guess it changes. If I were on vacation and a stranger asked me where I am from, I would say Boston, because Jersey is irrelevant to them.”

“So… if you asked me where I am from, I should tell you where I live now, not where I am from?” I teased.

“I haven’t asked where you are from?”

I thought about it. “I don’t believe so.”

“Am I a stranger?” She asked.

“You are not.” I replied.

“Where are you from?”

I laughed. “I don’t know anymore; I am so fucking confused.”

“Places are just places right?” She smiled.

“What’re you going to do in Jersey?”

“I planned a surf weekend with friends. They might come here instead though. It depends on the weather.”

“Surfing in October?” I thought she was kidding.

“Prominent breaks man, the best waves all year. Not to mention the ocean is empty, so all the waves are mine.”

Curiouser. “So, you’re a surfer?”

She slowly inhaled a sip of coffee. “I don’t know, I like to surf. What constitutes being a surfer?” She said coyishly.

“I always assumed the act of surfing?” I replied.

She raised the question. “So… if you kill one person, you’re a murderer?”

“It depends on if it was murder…” I replied.

“If you kill three people and by pure happenstance all of the killings are done the same way to people with the same profile, are you automatically a serial killer?” She was on a roll. There was no stopping her.

“Hmmm, I am not sure. I guess it depends on the connotation.”

“So, if my intent is to become a serial killer when I grow up, the first few kills would be in training? Then once I hit a number, I get my serial killer certificate… however, if I just happen to accidentally kill three similar looking people, the kills are considered null, and I am not a serial killer?”

I tented my hands and stabbed my chin with my fingers lightly. “Yes, I think we’ve nailed it down.”

She laughed. “Yes, I am a surfer.”

“Epic.” I smiled.

I learned a lot more about Juno Rafferty that morning. Eventually Elliot met up with us, and then Madeline did too. It’s funny I have known of Madeline for such a long time, yet I know nothing about her other than her nickname she acquired somewhere in her youth from being known for enjoying a cocaine high. She may have only done it once and I have defined her by it. She seemed to be very successful, she owned her own internet clothing company, and lived in a large flat on Newbury. It goes along with what Juno said about one thing defining you being untrue. Imagine if our youth defined our entire lives? Imagine if we could never climb out of it? I had to laugh though, here I was with Juno, who’s name literally means youth, and here she was defining me. There are some days I like being inside my head, stuck, like we were on the rooftop, today was one of those days.

Elliot was very intrigued by surfing in October. So much so that he was looking for spots nearby. He’d never even surfed but always wanted to at least try it. All the years we’d been coming here, it was always summer, the beaches were overcrowded, and the waves sucked. Juno explained that if you can surf the north Atlantic coast, you can surf anywhere.

We had two days left on trip and things felt a little awkward now knowing Elliot’s fate, and though he was vague when I asked what kind of cancer, it was still very sobering knowledge. Like anyone, I held out hope that maybe a mistake was made somewhere. Maybe they mixed up his chart. Maybe he was just too dehydrated and out of shape on marathon day. I kept putting all these thoughts in a blender and spinning them around my head. Adding to it with every new thought, or glimmer of hope.

After breakfast Juno and Madeline went about their separate ways. Elliot was fixated on his phone searching for surf spots. Whenever he got something in his head, he had to live it out. I loved that about him. He had the confidence to do really anything. If I mentioned skydiving, we would probably be on a plane this afternoon. Instead, we spent the afternoon in a surf shop that Juno recommended called Motion Surf.

Lorelei Zimmerman had the curliest blonde hair. She was named after Marilyn Monroe’s character in the fifties movie “Gentleman Prefer Blondes”. She had never seen the movie, but she liked that the origin of her name derived from Marilyn Monroe. She was in her early thirties, probably the same age as Juno, or close to it. She had a welcoming soul, and she took the time to explain surfing to Elliot and I, two guys amid their forties, who had absolutely zero clue about it. She spent her youth surfing in Australia, it was in her blood, she studied abroad in Boston where she met her now husband Rami and they put their roots down in here. The way she spoke of Australia, I could tell she missed it dearly.

“Catching an unbroken wave is one of the most difficult things to learn as a novice.” She explained that patience and persistence would pay off because the feeling of dropping in on a green wave for the first time is an out of body experience. She reflected on her first green wave as if she had just ridden it into shore. Elliot handed her his credit card and told her to get us everything we’d need to surf and since we were leaving in a few days, he told her to teach us as fast as she could. She laughed and began talking about the four stages of waves and how to approach them.

“The first stage is a lump in the water, and basically impossible to catch. The second stage is the delicate sweet spot and hitting it right is essential. This is where you begin paddling into it. In the third stage is when the wave breaks onto your back. The wave is broken in the last stage and now white water. Positioning is everything when trying to predict when the wave will break.”

Elliot was listening so intently as she spoke. Her accented words were becoming glued to the inside of his mind.

“You want to be about five meters out from where the waves are breaking. Look for the lumps in the horizon that look like stage A waves. Once you pick a wave paddle with it matching the speed of the wave. Matching the speed is difficult because there is no force pulling you forward. Once you have proper paddling strokes and your body is centered on the board, gravity arrives. Keep your head down low over the nose of the board as you’re lifting up on the wave. Gravity becomes your best friend once you’re in position. When you feel confident on the wave, you’ll know when you feel it, that’s when you pop up. Never hesitate to pop up.”

She popped up on a surfboard on the carpet showing us the proper ways.

“Don’t go out too far, it’s such a common mistake new surfers make. See where other surfers are and follow their lead.”

She helped us pick out surfboards, and then even waxed them for us. Elliot’s board had a drawing of a guy on it that looked like he was vomiting a rainbow. It looks much better than it sounds. He said that specific board spoke to him as if it were the chosen one. I just nodded my head and said OKAY. My board had a skull on it with a snake crawling through the mouth and up through the eye of it. It was colored with the most beautiful blues and greens. The first wetsuit Elliot tried on was too tight leaving little to the imagination. It was hilarious watching Lorelei try not to look down at his forty-six-year-old package. He was almost flaunting it, but he kept a straight face.

Lorelei said she’d be happy to meet up this weekend at Nauset Beach to help us get our feet wet, no pun intended. Her words not mine. We agreed to stay through the weekend, because well, Elliot was now obsessed with wanting to surf… in Boston, in October. It’s also weird how long ago the marathon felt … fucking time.

We kept it pretty low key later that night. We went to an Italian restaurant called Giacomo’s on the north end and ordered the works. It was our favorite spot to eat whenever we came into town. Italian food tastes worlds better in October than it does in June. Maybe we’ve been doing it wrong the entire time. Elliot ordered as if it were his last meal. King prawns, calamari, manicotti, some sort of pasta with scallops too. He ate every god damn bite and then washed it down with a five-hundred-dollar bottle of Amarone. I was full just watching him eat as I snacked on bruschetta drizzled in the freshest olive oil. I also had the caprese salad with pesto along with a seafood linguini. Everything tasted so damn good I almost wished it was our last meal.

“You really think we can pull off surfing?” I said tossing my napkin onto my plate.

“We’re going to god damn try.” He said still chewing whatever it was he was chewing.

“Always an adventure.” I said feeling a bit sentimental.

“Still can’t believe I couldn’t finish the marathon…”

“But you did…”

“In a way.” He said modestly. “I wasn’t going to tell you by the way.”

“Tell me what?”

“That I am dying.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“I haven’t even told Louise.”

“Are you kidding?” I almost choked on a cherry tomato.

The waitress interrupted and Elliot ordered us an entire key lime pie for dessert, and I must be honest, I didn’t think I could fit another calorie in my body. When they put it in front of us it was still smoking from the freezer and God dammit when I sunk my teeth into that tangy ice cold vanilla and key lime pie all down to that glazed graham cracker crust I saw my life flash before me in a montage both bittersweet and beautiful from the time Elliot and I were kids in the street playing baseball and drinking lemonade, all the way up to the rooftop last night with Juno Rafferty and attempting to feel up every single one of the shiver bumps on her tight cold skin. All the good, the bad, and the ugly, in that same fucking blender that I call my mind that just spins constantly like a cyclone vomiting rainbows among other things less attractive.

After dinner we walked out into the rainy night and up and down the streets in the north end. We bought cigars and smoked them on a sidewalk outside of an all-night café before catching a cab back to the hotel and calling it a night.

“Today was a good day.” Elliot said before we parted ways for the night.

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