Print Story Oh, mother.
Diary
By blixco (Tue May 16, 2006 at 03:08:19 AM EST) (all tags)
Our day of Glory
In the righteous light
We fall on our swords


Hitch in Yer Giddyup.

Say this out loud: prof-yes-or.  Prof-yes-or.  That's what she sounded like when she said the word "professor."  She was this blonde fair skinned freckled ball of chaos and exotica in a biology class of 200 at NMSU.  She had moved to the states after her parents had both been jailed for something.  Her uncle fought for two years to remove her from the (then) USSR, from a town outside of Moscow.  He'd "emigrated" or defected or something back in the 1960s.  With careful bribes and even more careful application of dogged diplomacy, he had her plucked from a Cuban house where she'd been the guest of a military man on leave.

She had a bored look.  Under a knit cap with her blonde hair as long as a daydream she had this quality like a used battered Barbie doll, those onjes with the arms missing, legs akimbo.  Lines around her eyes at 22 because her uncle had extracted rent for the last ten years in flesh and sweaty pained embarassing gropings in the middle of dark muffled Phoenix nights.  Her intro to Am-year-ica, land of the free.  She was born with one arm shortened and twisted, fingers stunted, and she paid no attention to it though everyone else did.  Like a crack in a statue, a burned painting, your eyes pulled to it.  One night after a bottle of something noxious, Nick and I were trying to figure out the quickest way to her heart and she said her uncle was a good man, but his flesh made him weak and stupid.  She said his core, his soul was good.  He would have made a fine coffeetable, she said.  A decent antelope.  He would have been a fine fish, a sturdy tree.

Quiet conversations post-blowout drunken bash.  We sat staring at the blue light from the muted television flickering violence across the all-too-deserted livingroom floor, littered with empties and drunken passed out bodies.  Nick got up mumbling, crawled under the kitchen table, passed out.

I offered her a cigarette and we got up and walked outside.  It was November cold, deep clear blue black sky right to the edge of the universe.  She told me, the stars in Arizona are beautiful, saying it "bee-you-ti-fyul" and eyes lighting in a way that made me hurt.  I lit her cigarette, snapped the zippo shut.  The world raced by on I-25 in the distance.  The desert was quiet.  Her head tilted back, she closed her eyes and smiled, a beautiful smile, pale and deep and full of earned joy.

She looked at me, smiling, one thin finger pushing hair out of my eyes.  I smiled back, suddenly shy  and heart racing.  "You would make a good man," she told me.  I smiled and reached for her hand.  She turned to the desert.

"You and I, we're not going to do this," she said, still smiling, the phrase said clear and happy but with a weary edge.  Tired.  "Thanks for the party.  I will see you."  A wink.  I walked her to her car.  She not even drunk, just weary, driving slowly home.  I staggered back to stale whiskey cigarette air, relieved somehow and disappointed and unsure.  Alone but on fire.

We said hi a few times after that, sometimes talked about class.  We had coffee once, coincidence.  The conversation was quiet and familiar.  We'd opened up all at once in the middle off a drunken cold night.  There was little else to say.

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Oh, mother. | 11 comments (11 topical, 0 hidden) | Trackback
that was beautiful by misslake (4.00 / 3) #1 Tue May 16, 2006 at 07:32:36 AM EST
and sexy
and bittersweet.

Thanks! by blixco (2.00 / 0) #3 Tue May 16, 2006 at 08:44:15 AM EST

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Taken out of context I must seem so strange - Ani DiFranco
[ Parent ]
the magic of things that didn't happen by 256 (4.00 / 4) #2 Tue May 16, 2006 at 08:06:48 AM EST
you can look back and see how the near approach and last second aversion have invested it with so much more power than would the act itself.

and yet, in a notional yester-tomorrow, you would still reach for her hand.

or at least i would.

--

as always: thanks.
---
I don't think anyone's ever really died from smoking. --ni

Thank you. by blixco (4.00 / 1) #4 Tue May 16, 2006 at 08:44:51 AM EST
And, I wouldn't change a thing if I could go back, not even the bad parts.
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Taken out of context I must seem so strange - Ani DiFranco
[ Parent ]
trick question by 256 (4.00 / 1) #5 Tue May 16, 2006 at 08:52:50 AM EST
"would you do it different if you could go back?"

"no; the good and the bad, they were all part of the route to here. and i like here."

but consider if the godhead conspired to recreate an analogous situation tomorrow, with no assurance of the same action producing the same outcome. not "would you change?", but "have you changed?"

not really a question. just a thought.
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I don't think anyone's ever really died from smoking. --ni

[ Parent ]
Hrm. by blixco (4.00 / 1) #6 Tue May 16, 2006 at 09:06:05 AM EST
Technically, if I were offered the ability to sttep into a parallel model with no guarantee of the outcome, and assuming I was polluted by my current knowledge...there would be a few changes I'd make.

But i don't know that any of those situations would exist.  It could be a parallel reality where the Russians nuked us.  Ya never know.  The Red Menace were a tricky bunch.
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Taken out of context I must seem so strange - Ani DiFranco

[ Parent ]
agreed by 256 (4.00 / 2) #7 Tue May 16, 2006 at 09:10:59 AM EST
you know, i keep doing all these little random things, but they never seem to balloon chaotically into noir-horror cyberpunk regimes where everyone is a clone of people from my childhood. not even into hurricanes for that matter.

i must be doing something wrong.
---
I don't think anyone's ever really died from smoking. --ni

[ Parent ]
what's wrong is all the work you make me do! by misslake (4.00 / 3) #8 Tue May 16, 2006 at 09:50:30 AM EST
i have to keep doing all these momentous carefully calculated, and precisely timed things all the time to continue to try and prevent you from bringing down armageddon all over the place.
baby, i love you.
more importantly, i love the current alive version of you way more than the mostly blind and soon dead post apocalyptic cyberpunk you.

[ Parent ]
i like here by LilFlightTest (2.00 / 0) #11 Sat May 27, 2006 at 12:53:11 AM EST
and what you take away from the bad things is what makes you who you are.
Send me to Austria!
[ Parent ]
How did she know? by calla (4.00 / 2) #9 Wed May 17, 2006 at 06:17:26 PM EST
Why don't I ever know?

"Are Linux chicks worth it?" fencepost

She was beaten into by blixco (4.00 / 1) #10 Thu May 18, 2006 at 03:03:00 AM EST
her persona at a faster pace?  She recognized futility.
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Taken out of context I must seem so strange - Ani DiFranco
[ Parent ]
Oh, mother. | 11 comments (11 topical, 0 hidden) | Trackback