Date: Mon, 23 Oct 2006 14:08:18 -0500 From: Luther Boggsley Subject: The Quantum Mechanic: Part 1 It was not the first time or the last time the two had ever met, but nevertheless it was a time they had met. In any case it was one of the first times they had met, and were it not for the way the universe twists itself to make coincidences occur then maybe this time they wouldn't have met each other and things wouldn't have happened like they had. It was a dark night out with clouds in the sky turning purple from the last rays of sunlight. The streets of east-side Tulsa were near-on empty. It looked like the perfect night for a zombie invasion. Passersby in the dark (mainly school kids out for the holiday weekend) were black sillhouettes against the endless fields of dead grass and skeletally bare trees Of course there were street lamps- But their light seemed not to reach beyond five feet or so from each pole. And in any case most of them were in the strip mall parking lot. It used to be a popular place ages ago, but now a lot of stores had dwindled away and there was basically a Target next to two clothing stores and a Toys'R'Us across the street from an even more dead mall. Jackson got out of his car and looked around. It was the kind of night that stretched itself out and covered everything. It was the kind that called out to him to leave the safety of the light and see what had to be seen. To go walking and never return. Live on the street and get money any way he had to. It said to him- Come be one with the darkness. Step out of your hollow life and into your new one. But he ignored the urge and stepped into Target, because he'd just got paid and he was going to buy a Splattergore CD, because he'd just been to a concert the week before (inadvertently expecting to see Good Charlotte but making a left turn at Albuquerque, apparently) and was pleasantly surprised to discover he actually liked them about a million times better. And if you leave your life of somewhat well-offness behind then you can't really listen to CD's at all, and that wasn't entirely what he wanted. On account of it really was a keen band. It'd be a crying shame to just discover something as cool as Splattergore and then not be able to enjoy it. He figured he'd reserve dissappearing from his life once he got tired of the CD. If something hadn't, you know, dissuaded him from the notion before then. The automatic doors slid open and the cool air conditioning washed over him like a breeze. He blinked and covered his eyes with his hands to adjust to the sudden brightness in the store, which was probably why he avoided seeing Ben walk straight past him from the clothes section (where he'd just picked a brand new wallet) and into the music section. As for why Ben didn't see Jackson was probably the fact that he got an inadvertently strong pain in his right big toe, which took his attention and made him juke to the right and make a stop in the girl's section. He walked to get here, actually, as he was visiting his Aunt Trudy, and she lived only a mile or two away. He was good at walking- He did it a lot, actually, kind of as a way to get in touch with nature. But his Aunt had bought him these goddamned boots, and his big toe was screaming at him like a mo-fo. He bent down to loosen his boots and make sure his toe was still attached, thus effectively hiding himself in the jumpers for four year olds as Jackson walked past to the music section, his eyes having recovered. Jackson was a man on a mission- Splattergore or bust. He briskly turned left and walked past the clothes and got closer to the music section. But then he was distracted, because he saw an aisle of mirrors, and so he turned left again and stared hard at the fact that his reflection was in fact not even moving like him at all. In every single mirror. This so unnerved him that he blinked and rubbed at his eyes, and then pulled up a mirror and looked behind it, possibly to check for wire feeds. So his face was completely hidden when Ben, whose shoe was completely comfortable now, for some odd reason, walked past to the music section. Ben toddered around a little, because there wasn't really a CD place in his hometown. He walked around and examined all the rock bands, and then the greatest hits rack, and then he got a little confused because he didn't remember why he'd come here. Ben was the kind of person who often got lost in the middle of a thought because he had so many at one time- Unless you wrote something down for him he'd think he was going to be doing about fifteen things at once. Jackson smiled and waved at the mirrors two aisles over, which just flipped him off and then reverted to normal. Frowning to himself and laughing (half-expecting Ashton Kutcher to pop up from nowhere and Punk him) he walked over to the music section, convinced it was a prank. From a security camera's eye view, the two were on opposite sides of one aisle- Whenever Ben got confused he wandered to the other side of the aisle, and then Jackson would move to the other side searching for the CD he was interested in, his mind distracted. The televisions on the wall flared up with a harmonic dissonance, and the first few chords of Splattergore's Reaper March blared outwards like an audial supernova, stunning the shit out of both boys and making them face the wall. It was a music video, the cheesy kind that shows the audience, like at a concert, but both boys felt the magic of the music. They walked forward to the huge televisions and then looked at each other And it was like a spark of some kind of weird crazy knowledge, like looking at a puzzle and seeing one vital clue that you know is going to be important to working it all out but not knowing how on earth the first piece of knowledge is supposed to even be approached. But then, both of them being boys, and at that age where you're well on your way towards adulthood and thus consequently ignoring anything to shatter your mental picture of the universe (which often includes ignoring pesky facts like having memories of having passionate mind-blowing body-searing sex in a bathroom stall with each other at the concert last week even though they both knew it hadn't happened) they broke eye contact and then allowed themselves to be reabsorbed by the music. And when it was over, and the song was gone, and the magic had retreated, there was only the awkward pull of wanting to look at each other but resisting the urge to because obviously they were both boys, and teenage boys, at that, and it's a well-known fact that teenage boys haven't got a lick of sense in their heads. And then they both awkwardly scrabbled for a Splattergore CD from the end rack, and then they were both nervous as all get out because the heat from each other's hands brought up the same memory that kind of half-existed in their heads, and then they both got even more nervous and awkward because, you know, they were turning red and all that. So they each grabbed a CD and then avoided each other's eyes and then walked, heads down, to the checkout line. Because, really, what else could you do? Approach each other and say, 'I think I know you from somewhere, and I have this fuzzy but clear memory that we had wild wonderful sex last week at a concert even though I also have a memory of not doing anything? And even though it was just good sex I see you and my heart speeds up and I get sad and happy at the same time?' Of course you couldn't. You'd sound completely bonkers. They'd lock you in Vinita and throw away the key. Duh. The only thing to do was ignore this other boy, they both thought. And so doing they made to get in seperate lines. And they probably would have never seen each other again (or maybe not, you never know,) were it not for two facts: There was only one line open, and some preggo's water chose to break at that instant. Before it happened, though, they shot each other secretive furtive heated glances while the other wasn't looking, in the same way young shy folks do everywhere, acting like they were just interested in seeing if there was a clock or something behind the person they wished to ogle, the favorite choice of bashful gay teens and nervous girls everywhere. But then occasionally they'd make eye contact and whatever, and then they'd bury their nose back into examining the covers of their CD. It was quite ridiculous, really. Only not to them. It never is to kids their age. But then Jennifer McCarthy, age thirty-two, stomach looking like she swallowed three huge basketballs, said 'Oh dear' and there was a splash noise and then suddenly Ben's new boots were ruined. Her husband (funnily enough named Paul) rushed over from examining an endcap full of on-sale chips and slipped, slamming the back of his head into the tiled floor and passing plum out. "My husband!" Jennifer wailed pathetically. "And my water!" "Oh Christ," said the cashier, who was an exceptionally nervous man with little to no reasoning ability in crisis situations. "Oh man, oh man. Are you okay, dude?" He poked the man with his finger. Ben growled to himself at the general stupidity of human beings in general, then shoved his way through the line. "I've had some medical training," he said. "Go the fuck away. Get a manager or something." "But-" said the cashier, which was as far as he could get on account of Ben twisted his nipple in a violent enough manner to cause him to squeak and then take off. "He may have had a concussion," Ben said. "Has he not opened his eyes yet?" "I haven't seen him do anything!" Jennifer wailed. She wailed a lot. Earlier in her life she'd won an award for a bit role as a victim in an episode of ER. Which was a tad ironic, as to the circumstances. "I need to get to the hospital," she said frantically. "The baby's coming." As Jackson was the only other person there he felt it was his duty as a moral person of sorts to maybe offer his help. He stepped forward and she grabbed his hand and almost broke his fingers. "Fuck!" he gasped. Ben looked up from checking on Mr. McCarthy's head wound and their eyes locked. And then the split-second moment was over, and they both decided that whatever idiotic notions they had about messed-up memory glands or whatever would have to wait. "Do you have a cell phone?" Ben asked. "Yes," Jackson said. "But the emergency lines are down for repairs." "WHAT?" Jennifer screamed. "It's some kind of honestly stupid administrative thing," Jackson said. "I don't know all the details of it. But once a month the emergency lines are taken down for about thirty minutes." "You're joking me," Ben said. "Well, we can try," Jackson said. He flipped open his cell and gave the emergency line a ring. "Busy signal," he said. He held the phone out for all to hear. "Fuck me," Ben said. "I need to get to the hospital RIGHT NOW!" Jennifer screamed. "Look, lady-" Jackson began, but was cut off by her grabbing his shirt and dragging him up to her now somewhat foamy mouth. "I DON'T CARE HOW WE GET THERE BUT YOU ARE TAKING ME TO THE HOSPITAL!" Jennifer screamed. "Can we take your car?" Ben asked. "Are you joking me?" she asked, voice suddenly filled with scorn. "I don't have insurance on either of you and my husband's about to go in the hospital." "I haven't got a car," Ben said. Jackson rolled his eyes in despair. "I do," he said. The windows were down and the sounds of frantic cries of pain followed them like a doppler effect as Jackson sped down the highway like a bat out of hell, muttering angrily to himself. He looked in the rearview mirror and met Ben's eyes, then broke the connection when he realized his reflection was, once again, not matching up with his movements. It seemed to be giving him a frantic look, and even though Jackson knew he raised his eyebrows it didn't move. Then his attention went back to the road, because he didn't need to get into a wreck, especially with three- No, four other people in the car. "The contractions are getting closer and closer," Jennifer moaned. Ben rolled his eyes from the back seat. "Just hold on, I'm sure our friend here will get us there soon." Ben himself was holding Paul's unconscious form in his lap, elevating his head. He wished he could see the look on his own face right now. It would probably be the same soured expression on the driver's face. He hadn't even called his Aunt, either. "My parents will never believe me when I tell them about this," Jackson said. He shook his head slowly back and forth as he cut off an old lady going almost eighty. His face was mysteriously blank. "I can always call and confirm your story," Ben said, feeling Paul's pulse. Jackson laughed hollowly. "Please," he said. "They'll assume you're one of my many 'coke-head boyfriends' and that we were actually out all night doing drugs and fucking like demented rabbits." He smiled a wry smile that Ben saw in the mirror. They locked eyes again Ben unglued his eyes and blushed, then went back to checking on Paul. Jackson looked down from the mirror and then screeched onto an off-ramp. In the waiting room, after Jennifer and Paul were taken away, there was no longer anything to concentrate on except the memories that hadn't happened. It made the two of them extremely uncomfortable around each other, as, well, what could you say to someone you'd just met that you hadn't even known their name yet? "I'm Jackson," Jackson said. Well, that was one thing. "Ben," Ben said. They shook hands, then looked away from each other. There was the same awkward silence again, and then finally Ben decided to take the bull by the horns. "Wild night, eh?" he said. "If you want to classify it as such," Jackson said. He rubbed his left hand. "I think my fingers may never work the same again." "Thank God I'll never have to go through that," Ben said. "Through what?" Jackson asked. It should be noted that at this point neither boy was looking at the other, but rather at the nearest available object in view. "Through the whole woman giving birth bit," Ben said, as if it was obvious. "Why is that?" Jackson asked, voice trembling but trying to remain calm. "Uh," said Ben, and realized he had, yet again, shoved his foot into his mouth whilst simultaneously backing himself into a corner. "I'm sorry?" Jackson asked. "Uh, it's because I-" His vocal chords froze. Jackson nodded at a plant. "I understand completely," he said. "I'll never have to go through that either. Bar any unfortunate incidents at a Target again." The words 'because we both wouldn't touch a vagina with a ten-foot pole, (no pun intended)' flitted through the air unspoken. There was a respectful silence, broken by the occasional cry of a child in the background. "So," said Jackson after a while. "I'm already going to be in trouble when I get home. You want to go get something to eat before we find out about our friends in there? I may as well get hanged for a horse than a pony. However that goes." "Uh," said Ben, who wasn't very vocal in his best times, and was dealing with the problems of that metaphor when introduced to the vivid not-memories he had. "Sure. I guess. If you're sure." "Sure I'm sure," said Jackson. "So we'll go then," said Ben. They both awkwardly climbed to their feet. The both of them had a memory of seeing a movie, and also eating at a McDonald's, but of course neither had actually happened. It was confusing, beguiling, and also a little exciting. Insanity's kind of fun if you embrace it like a friend. They both sat and stared at each other in the empty hospital cafeteria over a couple of peanut candy bars and two cans of fizzy green soda. Jackson was eating his slowly, meditatively chewing as he examined Ben's face like a hawk about to catch an eagle. Ben was taking occasional sips from his soda. "I hear that gives you a low sperm count," Jackson said. "Yes, well, not much use to me is it?" Ben asked. Jackson grinned and took a bite off a candy bar with the side of his mouth. "I'm sorry this isn't a proper date," he said. "I somehow get the feeling we've already had one, though." "Funny," Ben said to his soda. "Me too." The heat from Jackson's gaze was an almost tangible force on Ben's cheek. He couldn't help but blush. "Like, I have this weird idea that we went to a McDonald's before," Ben said. "And then I tried to order an Arch Deluxe-" "And then there was this little girl who wanted a toy-" "And so I got a Happy Meal and gave it to her," Jackson finished. "Something like that," Ben said, which was the understatement of the century. "Splattergore," Jackson said. They both blushed, acutely aroused. "The thing is," Ben said, "I never went to the concert." Jackson stared at him appraisingly. "I never left my seat," he said. Their eyes locked again. Heat seemed to pulse outwards and pass between them, making both of them dizzy, swirling up and around the two of them like a whirlwind of emotion, an almost tangible presence, singing up and down their individual bodies like some kind of otherworldly ethereal chorus of pure emotion. "I... am going to be in a lot of trouble if I don't get back to Aunt Trudy's," said Ben. Much has been said before on the merits of the teenage boy- Intelligence isn't very high up there. Good looks, yes, intense emotions, yes, but intelligence? Obviously not. "I can drive you," Jackson said. "I'd like that," said Ben. "Me, too," said Jackson. The ride back was silent and filled with a kind of quiet, dreadful agony. "I'll never see you again," said Ben wretchedly. "Tonight's my last night at Aunt Trudy's, then it's back to my parent's." "We never saw each other before tonight," Jackson said in a morose tone. "Not really." "Do you remember that we did?" asked Ben. "Yeah," Jackson said. "Then we did," Ben said. "Even if it didn't happen, it did." And Jackson nodded, because it made sense, even though it didn't. "This the place?" Jackson asked after a while. "Yeah," said Ben. They looked at each other, experiencing and reliving everything that hadn't happened, unable to speak or make sense of any of their emotions, because even though it was so simple, it was so complicated. "Can I kiss you?" Jackson asked. "Like the devil himself," said Ben, and then both boys nervously laughed, because it was an often used joke that never had been. Jackson moved forward, hands cupped around Ben's face, turning his head and stroking his cheek with his thumbs and almost crying but holding himself back, meeting the other boy's lips with his and feeling that surge of warmth and feeling and pure, raw emotion that here was your other half, and you don't even know him and he's going away. He pulled away and rested his forehead on Ben's, still stroking his cheek, tears coming from his eyes from the intense pain and sadness in his heart. "I'm never going to see you again," said Jackson, sobbing. "It's okay," said Ben. His voice was warm and soothing. "If we're supposed to meet, we will." Ben wiped tears from Jackson's eyes, and then smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll see you when our paths cross again," he said, and then slipped out of the car and into the darkness. Overhead, the moon hung high in the sky, full and round and yellow. In the car below, Jackson beat his steering wheel with his hands and tore at his hair and cried, cried his eyes out, for a relationship that never had been that was his entire reason for existence. Inside his Aunt Trudy's house, Ben slipped into the guest room and sobbed his heart out for the pain that came from a nothing that was his everything. And nobody cared.