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Episode
087 |
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“Just because, I don’t say anything Doesn’t mean, I don’t like you. I open my mouth and I try and I
try, But no words came out.” Moldy Peaches, Nothing
Came Out The vegetables in the skillet
sizzled vibrantly, the steam rising over the stove and into the vent that
whisked it away. In the open kitchen
of Morgan’s apartment, the sound of the cooking food was as pervasive as the
smell. At the counter, Morgan chopped up
steak into thin strips as Ralph slowly walked amongst the countertop
appliances, happily exploring the new scenery. Morgan looked at the tiny turtle as it
passed behind the flour jar, the curvature of the glass distorting the
turtle. He went back to the meat,
slicing up more of it with smooth, regular motions of his long kitchen knife. The door next to the refrigerator
opened and Rebecca stepped out, turning off the light to the bathroom. “It smells good,” she observed with a
smile. She came around to the counter,
making Ralph instantly jerk inside his green and yellow shell. “Oy,” Morgan said, tapping the
turtle on the top of its shell with the tip of his knife. “Don’t got to sleep. You’re supposed to be entertaining.” Rebecca smiled. “He’s scared, the poor little thing.” She lowered down to the counter, coming equal
with Ralph. “I’m so big and he’s so
small.” “Yeah, the growth hormones aren’t
working,” Morgan grumbled. Rebecca
stood up, confused. “It’s a joke. And clearly not a funny one.” “Sorry,”
she apologized before she walked aimlessly back to the table in the breakfast
nook where her beer waited. “So, you
were telling me about your friends.” “I was trying to forget,” Morgan
muttered under his breath. Leaning against the table in jeans
and a conservative halter-top, Rebecca noticed his hesitation. “Why don’t you want to talk about
them? I mean, they’re your
friends.” Morgan finished slicing the
meat and turned to the stove, sliding the newest addition into the pan. He began to swish the food around, letting
it sear. “Are they not good friends?”
she ventured. “No, they’re god friends,” Morgan
said. “And they’re good people. They’re just…friends from a time in my life
that wasn’t so good.” She sipped her beer
thoughtfully. “Do you want to talk
about it?” Morgan didn’t answer. He took a steel spatula from over the stove
and began to stir the food rather than swirl it. “I’ve never been much of a friends person,”
she speculated, focusing on nothing as she spoke. “I mean, I knew people. For a good part of my life, I knew a lot of
people. I always knew where there was
a party and stuff. But none of the
people I hung out with were…I don’t know…Good.” “Imagine,” Morgan spoke aloud, not
facing Rebecca. “Imagine you were a
solider. Imagine that you were sent
into a hellish place. “When I was friends with them,”
Morgan explored, “the world was a beautiful and wonderful place, full of hope
and potential. But it was all a lie, a
lie I had created. And now, the world
is dark and horrible and there’s so little hope. And I envy them, because their world is
still beautiful and wonderful, and I guess I hate them because I envy them,
and I, uh, I hate myself, in some way, because I envy them, and I also hate
myself because I lied to make the world beautiful and wonderful, and I hate
myself because I’m the one who shattered that lie.” Rebecca stared up into Morgan’s
eyes. “What kind of life did you
lead?” she asked in worry-soaked awe. He was quiet, taking a moment to
answer. “A good life.” “So who are these friends of
yours?” Rebecca asked, catching the basketball. She dribbled it a few times, then held her
hands up, shooting a fast shot from the free-throw line, sinking it. Morgan caught the ball as it fell through
the hoop set up over his garage and passed it back to her. “ “Like, the city?” she asked, shooting
again. This time, the ball rebounded off the
backboard. Morgan rushed to catch it
and replaced Rebecca at the free-throw line.
“Yes. And please, all the
jokes, all the puns, it’s been done to death.” Rebecca smiled, but said nothing. “But she and I have…I guess you could say
we dated. Once. Maybe.”
He dribbled. “Maybe.” He tilted the ball and tossed it at the
basket, hitting the rim. The ball bounced away and Rebecca went
running into the grass to retrieve it.
“Is there still anything between you guys?” Morgan was quiet until Rebecca took her
shot. “Not really. Not anymore anyway.” He passed the ball back to her. In the dimming light of dusk, Rebecca
caught the ball, staring at Morgan with an intent look. “You know I don’t believe you, right?” “Yeah,” he said with an indifferent
look. “You’re a smart girl. I’m sure you can read between the lines and
tell when I’m lying to you.” She took another shot, this one bouncing
off the backboard. “Then why lie?” she
asked. “Lies are like children; they’re a lot of
work, but they’re the only real hope for the future,” he answered, dribbling
the ball as he approached the shooting line.
“I don’t lie to you about anything important. In fact, I don’t lie to you about anything
at all, except lies of omission. But you
do the same to me, so I figure we’re even.”
He shot the ball, watching it hit the rim again. “Are you ready to tell me absolutely
everything?” Rebecca caught the ball, stopping just shy
of the grass. She watched as Morgan
headed beneath the goal. “You’re
missing intentionally, aren’t you?” she asked. “Yes,” he said. “Why?” “Because the game isn’t fun if one person
never misses,” he said. “You can’t miss,” she said with an
incredulous smile. “No, I can miss. I’ve been missing this entire time.” He smiled at her. “I just won’t. Not unless I want to.” She smiled and shook her head. “If anyone else said that, I’d think they
were lying.” “And you think I’m not?” “No,” she said. “Why?” “Because you’ve been honest about lying,”
she said with a wink, tossing the ball to him, heading inside. The call of summer insects filled
the humid night air as the world quieted down for the evening. The stars overhead twinkled vibrantly as
the soft hue of the neighborhood disappeared into the trees, leaving the house
secluded in its own company. Morgan came out onto the balcony
overlooking is small yard on a hill, carrying a beer and a bottle of
water. Rebecca turned from the
telescope set up on the wooden railing with a smile. “I’ve never seen anything like this.” She accepted the beer from Morgan and
looked back through the sight. She
laughed girlishly. “I can see the
surface of the moon.” She looked up as
Morgan leaned against the railing opposite her. “There’s got to be a song title in there
somewhere.” “I think you’re thinking of ‘Dark
side of the moon’ by Pink Floyd,” he suggested with a grin. “Maybe,” she said. She twisted the top off her beer and took a
sip. “Okay, now, you don’t drink,” “Not much.” “But you have two six-packs
downstairs,” she puzzled. “Why?” “I know you do drink,” he
said. “I consulted some people and
they recommended those two beers as ‘safe choices’.” “Ah,” she smiled. “You know, if I didn’t know better,” she
said, pausing to take a sip, “I’d say you were getting me liquored up.” “For what purpose?” he asked. “I don’t know. Something nefarious,” she said playfully. “You’ve had three beers in four
hours,” he said with a laugh. “If I
have any nefarious plans, I don’t think the alcohol will be playing a role.” She smiled and put her beer down
on the railing. She sauntered slowly
towards Morgan, taking the collar of his green shirt in her thin
fingers. “That’s a shame,” she said
before kissing him. |
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