She lay on the couch and her long blond hair lay in wisps on her face and throat. Her arms were limp and bent in a gauche way on her chest and her eyes were closed.

“I’m bored, babe. I need a change.”

Her hair puffed with each word she spoke. It fell off her face and down to the floor as she turned her head to look at Jack.

“I know, hon. I know I said that. We can take a trip. We’re too broke for Rome, though.”

“I know,” she said. “I can wish.”

“Let’s go to Maine. We’ll take a nice trip to the coast for a week. They have good food there. Fresh crab, fish… We’ll stay at a place right by the sea,” said Jack.

Jack typed at his desk, his eyes locked on the keys that he struck hard.

“For now I need to get this done, Jules,” he said.

“Maine is too cold. I don’t want to go there,” she said.

“Jules, can you make us some iced tea? It’s warm out. Not so warm that we have to put on the air, but warm. I’m warm at least. Are you?”

“No,” she said. She stared at him with blank eyes.

“Oh. I guess I can make some, then.”

“I’ll have some too, so I’ll make it. I’m bored.”

Jules got up from the couch and stretched. The shades were drawn and the spring sun poured through the glass panes of their flat. They could have heard the birds sing if the screens were put in.

She made the tea and put ice in it. She thought of when she and Jack first met; they went out all the time for drinks and hung out with friends. They laughed a lot then. They made plans to take trips and they saw most of the states.

Jack tried hard to hear what Jules was up to from the front room.

When the tea was cool, she poured them each a glass.

“Jack,” she said as she sat down in the chair next to him. “I know you need to write, but it’s so nice out babe. Can we take a walk to get some lunch? We can find some seats in the sun. We might need some light coats still, but it’s so nice out. It’s so nice that it’s not gray and cold. It makes me sad when it’s been cold for a while, you know?”

“I know, Jules,” he said. He stopped his work and took a sip of the tea. “This is great, thank you hon.”

He drank down the rest of it and looked at her.

“You’re so cute,” he told her with a smile. “And I’m so glad I’m with you.”

She smiled back as she looked down at the floor.

“I’m glad too, babe.”

“Oh, damn, that’s right. Here you go,” he said. “I got you a gift.”

He gave her the thin slips and kissed her on her cheek. She looked at them and she screamed.

“Jack! Jack!” she laughed. “Rome! You bought these? For us?”

“Well yeah for us. For you. Round trip. I don’t want you to get bored of me and of what we have. I don’t want to lose you. We’ll go in two weeks. For now, let’s go get some food and sit in the sun.”

***

There were big houses on the other side of the parkway, and two men sat down on a bench across from them and smoked cigarettes in the crisp fall air. They were walking down to the village for drinks. Mike pulled out a flask full of bourbon and he and Ryan took pulls from it and laughed about being too responsible to drive but not very attractive to girls without having a car. They made elaborate stories about the housewives of the doctors or lawyers who lived in the houses; that the women were lonely and would like the company of the two bachelors. The heard the singing – something about nessun dorma, tu pure, o, principessa coming around the bend, and they saw the man singing opera. The bachelors tried to contain their tipsy giggling as the man passed by them, pausing from singing. They whispered about him after he passed, and they decided to drink some more of the whiskey before following him down the parkway. Later that night they were thrown out of a bar for starting an argument over the dartboard and making lewd comments to a waitress.

***

The walking paths were brown and uneven and flooded from the melting winter snow, and two old women driving back from the mall commented to each other about how nice the spring was and how bright the red berries looked on the brown shrubs of the parkway. Marge said she was thinking of moving to Arizona once and for all because she was getting too old for the winter, and Emily agreed. There are only so many winters you can take before it’s too much, she affirmed. They drove past the opera man and they heard him singing through the closed windows before the sound of driving drowned out his performance. Emily asked Marge if she remembered her cousin Tony who would come down to the restaurant and sing for all the guests when he had too many gin and tonics. Marge laughed and recalled that he had a wonderful voice, and that it was too bad his wife divorced him because of his gambling debts.

***

The man who sang opera walked his usual route down the parkway. He was tall and big and round, and his brother always used to call him linebacker. It was dark and quiet that night, and he could hear the river through the trees bubbling. His voice was deep and loud, but he had been working on his pitch and breath control to sing the tenor aria. He belted out tremano d’amore e di speranza before he paused and nodded to a girl who jogged past him in the opposite direction. He continued with ma il mio mistero è chiuso in me even when he saw the dark figure of a fawn in the moonlight, staring at him from a small field between the street and the river. Everything was still, and he decided on a grilling a steak with asparagus for dinner when he got home.

I tried not to use a lame lie, like I was “off to buy smokes.” That would have been too trite. It had been done. I just left for work and had a bag stowed in the trunk of my car. My bag was blue. I tied up some loose ends at the job, got all my cash from the bank and caught a train to the coast. I hate to fly, so then I hopped on a boat for the rest of the trip.

I ran. I don’t know why.

Then the boat was a bird and I flew, and I looked down and I knew that the fall would not kill me. It would be the fast change in course.

There were lights, and I was on land. Waves crashed.

I did not leave a girl or kids at home… I mean, I’m not a dick. I just left friends and loved ones. Then time skipped six months once more and I had a pen and pad and told all the folks back home I was safe and sound and well.

It rained now and then, but at night. The moon was out at night too, on clear nights though, and there was more than one moon and they were close to the point where they took up half the sky. And the food! The fresh fish and shrimp. There was a plate of shrimp in sweet sauce that made me hate home more.

It all glowed. All the plants and fish and trees glowed in the night, through the rain too, like bar signs on a main street.

Most of the time I had no shirt on, and I kept a gun strapped to my chest, but there was no need to fire it. I just liked the way it looked, I guess.

I wish I knew what the train ride to the coast was like. I love the train and half the time that’s the best part of a trip. The cars and track sounds and snores and laughs and booze. The air gets a little stale, though, so I like to chew gum so I smell that.

Time skipped back to when I was six years old and my mom told me that I had a gift and that I should share it with the world and that I would be… but the words blurred. I would be.

I was back on the beach. It was day now, so it was hot and light out. I sat in a cloth chair and drank beer, and watched the birds that brought me there dive and call. Toy boats sailed past close to shore, but I was the sole soul on the beach.

I sat and basked and smiled in the sun.

The waves crashed, and the rain and the moons peeked from out of the blue.

Hey, man. It’s been a few weeks since we’ve last seen each other so I thought I’d drop you a line.

I hope everything’s okay with you. I mean, I’m sure you’re fine. A lot of people like you, so I’m sure you’re not bored or anything. You’ve always been sort of a wild one! We’ve had some crazy times together.

I’m going to cut to the chase – I know I haven’t come around lately, and it’s just… it’s because I’m trying to change some things. I’m trying to get to a different place, and you know what happens when we hang out. Like that time we were hanging out and got caught by the cops pissing in that school parking lot at 3 a.m.! Ugh, shameless. Luckily they just gave us a ticket… that could have been a lot worse. Or when we went off on that girl at the bar and just started screaming to everyone in the place that she had her eyebrows painted on. She looked creepy, but we were out of line.

Man! Some of those times make me laugh a little still.

But Whiskey, I need to grow up. I’m getting to old for that shit. After those nights, it takes me two or three days to start feeling normal again. Almost every time we go out we get in trouble together and I wake up the next morning bruised. Literally, like that fucking sprain that left my ankle black and blue for three months!

I’m not saying we can’t ever hang out again. I don’t want to give you that impression. But, only on special occasions. And we have to act like adults.

I’ll be honest… do you remember Wine? Actually, I’d be surprised if you do. We were all hanging out at a party a couple months ago. It was a great time, but we were pretty hammered. Well… I’ve been hanging out with Wine a lot more lately. She’s nice. She’s refined but she can also be casual too. She’s the kind of girl that can be a cheap date, but still makes you feel like you’re living like a king, you know?

Like any relationship, she can be sort of bitter and dry sometimes. She changes with the seasons and I like that about her. She’s an adventure.

I’m going to be spending more time with her. By choice. This is what I need to do. You knew this day was coming. If we keep living as we have been, insanity or death are the only options we’ll have in our futures.

Wine gives me truth.

Take care,

Alex

P.S. – Give Brandy my best.