One

Wheel Keep On Turnin'

[TODAY]

"… but I never said I loved them, not once!," I say in a croak loud enough to make the old woman next to me yelp, and she recoils a little when she sees me spasm in my seat for a moment. Then she stares me down until I look away.

Even though I'm dressed up in a nice suit and carry a nice leather attaché case full of important contracts, and the old hag is wearing about four threadbare sweaters and carries a couple of bulging plastic grocery bags, I'm the one who feels ridiculous and stupid. Why should it be so?

(because only crazy people go around talking to themselves)
(wait… who the hell am I talking to, right now?)
(what?)

I guess I also realize that this is not the first time I spaz out during this subway trip. It takes me about forty minutes to get from my job at the bank down by Reforma avenue to my small condo in the East side of Mexico City. And lately I spend most of those forty minutes remembering my last year in college, reviewing the memories over and over.

(and blurting out your thoughts)
(and doing the spastic thing)

Whatever… So I got my degree at an American college. That is the reason why I have a nice job at a transnational corporation, and that's why I can have a nice little condo, a nice suit, and a nice attaché case. It is not because I have better training that any other of the Business Analysts who studied in Mexico, but because I have a diploma written in English, and I can speak English fluently. And it still makes me feel like a poser to know that some of my assistants are more knowledgable about the ins and outs of the banking business but I'm their superior only because of a piece of paper…

Anyway, even though I do well enough for myself, I still spend day after day reviewing in my head every single thing that has happened since that day, that goddamned day during my last year in college, when all the tragedy started in my life. In all of our lives.

Suddenly, I feel the

(crazy)

need to turn around and tell the sweater lady that it wasn't really my fault, that I didn't mean for any of the awful things to happen, that I would've stopped it if I could have, that I never said I loved them because it would've sounded fake and stupid, it would've been just empty words, you know? Sometimes words cheapen feelings, they say. Don't they?

Then again, the sweater lady would probably be scared of the spaz in the suit, and call the cops on me; so, no, I won't tell her anything. Instead, I turn and stare out the window at the train that is passing us in the opposite direction. The subway trains here in Mexico City have rubber wheels. That makes me wonder how long they can go before those tires wear out. Well, it actually makes me wonder about all sorts of things, like all those things that last forever and all those that don't. Like money, which doesn't last very long; or some so-called friends, that are gone the moment said money runs out. Or that there are true friends that stick with you forever, because there is love among you all, because love actually is infinite. And you shouldn't fuck around with the infinite.

I don't know if there's such a thing as being at peace with oneself. All I know is that this obsession with my memories is probably just another way to punish myself for not having any courage to change anything. All I do is feel sorry for myself while I remember these things, and suffer again every time I bring them up. That's why I do it, I think. But I wonder how to find the moment of causation, how to pin down the one place where things go wrong in my history. I think that—

[FIFTEEN YEARS AGO]

"— I'm gonna talk to Rob tonight, and just tell 'im that it's over, for reals, this time," Courtney shrugged her shoulders, pretending that it was no big deal.

"Well, good for you!" I tried not to sound too sacrastic, I swear, but it was hard keeping the edge out of my voice on this one.

You see, Courtney here had been going out with my best friend Rob since they were in eighth grade, and about half of all that time she had been cheating on him. I always thought that Courtney must've been some sort of super-freak in bed for Rob not to care. Or maybe he never noticed, but I don't think so. I don't think anyone could be so naive or pussy-whipped. Maybe. Actually, now that I think about it, I talked to Rob once and told him flat out that Courtney was sleeping around. He said he didn't believe me. What a dork. And it's not as if she was stealthy about the whole think, you know? I mean, everyone knew about it.

Maybe Courtney didn't know how to break up with Rob or didn't want to watch him crumble to pieces if she ever told him she didn't want to be with him anymore, and so she just kept trying to mess up so that Rob would be the one dumping her and then she could pretend to be the victim, or something, I don't know.

So maybe she had found herself somebody new, someone whom she thought would make her forget all about Rob in no time. Who knows? Chicks like that are really quite unfathomable to me.

"I think it might actually be a good thing for both of us, you know? I just want what's best for Robbie," Courtney said, apparently still temporizing.

"Yeah, whatever… But, look, Courtney, I gotta ask, I mean, did you even love Rob, I mean, like, ever?," I still couldn't keep the accusatory tone out of my voice.

Courtney surprised me: Instead of answering with an easy lie, she just bowed her head and started sobbing away. Clumsily, like always, I just fiddled with a couple of paper clips on Courtney's desk for a few moments, in silence, trying to wait out the tears. When a few seconds had passed I tried to calm her down.

"Aw, shucks, c'mon, don't take it like that. Turn off the waterworks, alright?," I said while patting her shoulder in a half-embrace.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, but smiled a little bit grudgingly.

"Yeah, okay, I'll be fine, don't worry… It's just that I'd never thought about it in those terms…"

"Oh, okay, then. You done for today, right? Want me to walk you to your car?"

"Yeah, okay. I just need to clock out. Hold on, I'll be right back…"

Well, maybe these guys seem lame to you, but they were my very best friends, and I thought the world of them. We all went to college in the mornings and worked part-time in the evenings in order to help our parents pay our way through college.

Courtney was a Fine Arts major and worked as a receptionist in the Registrar's Office at the University's campus. She was one of those girls that you could tell right away she was gonna be trouble, and looked so hot that you wished you could get in trouble. But she was always affectionate and caring with us, her friends. Rob, her boyfriend and my best friend in college, was an Accounting major and worked as an accountant aide at the local newspaper. We also hung out with Zoë, who was a Sophomore, undecided, but we didn't hold that against her. She was one of those girls who seemed plain at first sight, but that had a sort of scrubbed-face quiet beauty that shined best whenever she's quiet. And she was quiet a lot of the time. Actually, it was strange to see her hanging around with us, because we were usually boisterous and loud, and she would just tag along and be with us, and just… be there. She would look at us doing our nut and smile a little. She hardly ever said anything, but whenever she spoke, we all listened, because she was the voice of reason in our group.

And then, there was me. I majored in International Business, but so far the only jobs I could get were in restaurants and mall shops. I was the current delivery boy for a pizza joint. That was cool, because every other day or so someone in the Administrative Offices would order a pizza and I would get to deliver it and hang around a few minutes with Courtney or Rob or Zoë, if I found them wandering around at the U mall.

Now that I think about it, maybe we were good friends because we all were weirdos when it came to relationships. Like Courtney and Rob, with their unfaithfulness thing. Or like Zoë, who always tallied up the good and the bad qualities of her prospects and ended up finding too many faults with them. I suppose she wanted to find the proverbial knight in shiny armor, or something, but no one seemed good enough for her. Maybe she just didn't want to get hurt, ever. Or me, with this torrid affair I had going on with a local girl. Well, not really. I had nothing going on with her, except that she would call me every so often and we'd go out and get it on. I guess I was her bootie-call. Whatever. I mean, she wasn't the kind of girl you introduce to your momma, you know? And maybe that's why I kept picking up the phone whenever she called.

Anyhoo…

So I was walking Courtney to her car in the parking lot, and I noticed that she seemed kind of depressed, so I gave her a good squeeze of the shoulder and a side-hug. I said:

"Look, I think that—

[TODAY]

— it all started right there and then, because the Universe seems to be organized in cycles. Things start and things end. And, if you're lucky, the good things in life start over again after ending. But in all probability the only things that will keep turning up forever are the shitty ones.

D

Two

Falling into the cracks

[TODAY]

Yah, so maybe I shouldn't be getting all philosophical at this time of the night, 'cuz I've just noticed that while I was woolgatherin' I've missed my stop a couple of stations back. I get up in a hurry and dive out of the closing doors. The sweater lady looks disdainfully at me and snorts in a half smile. What a weirdo, she must think.

I wait for the train in the opposite direction to get back to where I need to go and get on it. In that train there's a trio of high-school-sized hoodlums. They are the most clichéd hoodlums I've seen in a long time: biker leather jackets, steel-toed boots, jeans and dirty t-shirts. If they had bandanas wrapped around their noggins I would've thought we were suddenly in an 80's movie, and they probably would proceed to breakdance. But they don't. They are just sitting there, looking in my direction and being as obnoxious as they can to the rest of the few passengers in the train.

When I get off at the correct station this time, they get up and start following me. Oh, dear, someone is in for a mugging, I guess. All the while they are cat-calling at me and making disparaging comments about my nice suit and the distinct possibility that I am not heterosexual.

"Hey, papi, are you cruisin' for a good time?"

"Hey, he looks so pretty in his pretty suit! Wanna party?"

I exit the station with the trio still in tow, and walk towards the collective taxi's queue parked at the back of the Metro station. Usually I would have gotten on the second route and gone home, but I keep walking past them and I suddenly dive into an alley.

I wait for the trio to catch up to me at the end of the alley, where I wait with my back to the dirty wall and my briefcase on the dirty floor. They make a big show of looking around, making sure there's no cop in sight, which is almost funny, since when is there a policeman around at this time of the night?

They close up on me, trying to box me in the alley. Can't they see I have no intention of running? I put up both my hands, palms towards them, and say in a voice that is not quite mine:

"Look:"

[FIFTEEN YEARS AGO]

"… I really don't feel like being alone tonight. Why don't you come back with me to my apartment, and keep me some company while we wait for Rob?," and she gave me a hug.

Now, I gotta tell you, getting a hug from a friend is no big deal, right? But suddenly there was entirely too much of Courtney hugging me, and I couldn't help but to notice it. This double-handful of beautiful girl could have convinced even a priest to go back to her apartment and keep her company. But I pictured in my mind the face of my friend Rob, and imagined all the heartache there would be etched in his placid, moon-like face if I were to do something as stupid as going back with Courtney to her place and try to make a pass at her. Even then I didn't think she had any intention of misbehaving with me, but I was shocked to find myself wishing she would.

So I broke away from her awkwardly and took a stumbling step back.

"Erm, you know? I still gotta go back to Pizza Hut and clock out, and turn in the clip-on car sign. Why don't you go ahead and I'll catch up with you guys in a while?"

She looked up to me through her eyelashes and I blushed a little, suddenly realizing that she could pretty well guess what I was really thinking. I could see it in her eyes that she wasn't offended, and that she was probably flattered that I had reacted to her body so readily. She smiled a little at me and briefly poked out the tip of her tongue in between her lips. Oh, boy. At that moment I was pretty sure that if she had insisted, I would probably have gone with her and done something stupid.

But she didn't. I think she was satisfied to ascertain her power over my dumb maleness, and just turned away and started walking towards her car.

"Okay, bye! See you later," she called out from over her shoulder, knowing full well that I would watch her leave and stare with equal parts fascination and regret at her butt.

After Courtney left, I headed toward my pick-up truck, which I had parked on the other side of the building. I decided to take a shortcut through the service alley behind the Administration building.

I was still reviewing in my mind the whole scene with Courtney, trying to make sure that I hadn't misunderstood the whole thing

(but mostly just savoring again the memory of her butt swaying away)

when I noticed that there were dozens of spiders and hundreds of ants scurrying around in the alley. Maybe there's a dead cat somewhere, or something, I thought. But suddenly there were blue sparks jumping around the ground and the walls, and a few feet away from me there was something that my eyes couldn't interpret, or that my brain refused to understand: There was a wrinkle in the air. It was like looking at the world as if it were photograph and someone or something had slashed right through it. The rip in the air started widening, and… something… shone through it, but it was the opposite of light. If darkness could shine, that's what it would look like.

Off to one side, a blob of the same dark shining started to coalesce into a material less shining but darker, and grew and grew, all the while forming a rough man shape. But it reached my height and still continued rising and rising until it was the shape of a hooded figure towering over me, ten-foot tall and lanky.

I was too scared to scream, but my mouth didn't care and reacted on it's own, opening wide to fill up my lungs with as much air as it could manage and let out the loudest yell of terror it could produce.

But before I could start screeching, the tall, dark, hooded figure extended a bony claw towards my face and placed a long and putrid talon across my lips. And it said:

[TODAY]

"… There's no need for violence, let me reach for my wallet and you can have all my money. But first, you gotta give me a kiss!," and I purse my lips towards the guy in front of me.

"Oh, ho, ho, ho! Fucking fag, I'm gonna mess you up!"

"Get 'im, Chato!"

"Yeah, kick his ass!"

Sure enough, Chato takes a lunging step towards me and throws the biggest haymaker he can. But I don't care. I am faster than anything anyone has ever seen. Ever. In my mind, I can see them as if they are all swimming in a sea of molasses and I am the only one who can move at normal speed. I can see his arm swinging out in a big arch directed towards my nose, and I even have time to look at his cheap skull metal ring and look into his face, to notice that he's a lot older than any high-school kid, except he is really short and wiry. None of that matters, because now it's my time to act, and I reach out with both hands and clamp them on his head, one covering his mouth and one holding on to the back of his neck. I step sideways and twist his head around his neck, and now his whole head is looking backwards.

All of this happened even before he had time to land his punch.

I let him fall to the ground and look up at the other two guys. They still don't understand what just happened, and they rush to see what happened to their friend. I calmly pick up my briefcase and start walking away.

I hear them yelling at me, I hear them trying to revive their friend, but I know they are not going to bother me anymore. In a few moments they will finally understand that their friend is dead, and they will probably run away home. I don't care.

I'm done for today and the darkness recedes again… For a little while.

D

Under construction

Please be patient with me, O, beloved imaginary readers…