Chapter 10: Real Dreams

After fifteen years of trying to prove himself in the corporate world, Lee strode onto the stage of his new career.

“Lee Colline,” a voice cried out dully.

“Yes.”

“Please stand in front of the spotlight and read the first three lines but don’t follow the stage directions. We’re not auditioning dancers here.”

“Yes sir,” Lee responded enthusiastically. Lee cleared his throat. In the moment between his last breath and the next, he recalled his first stage experience.

• • • • • • • •

“Hello, everybody, my name is Mrs. Bryant and I’m the new drama teacher at Central High School. Thanks for coming out today. I didn’t expect such a good response but I’m glad to see you.

“Okay, I want you all to know that I believe you have talent but I just don’t have parts for all of you. While you’re reading the parts we’ve selected for you, we’ll, that’s the other judges and I, will be watching to see who fits a certain role. First, we want all the boys to step on stage. The rest of you can wait in the back rows of the theater.”

Lee nudged his friend Phillip who had propped himself against the crow’s nest. “Well, it’s now or never.”

Phillip grunted as he pushed himself up to his feet and shuffled down the theater aisle.

Mrs. Bryant continued, “I want all the tall boys to stand to my left.”

“Well, Phillip,” Lee said with an edge of nervousness in his voice, “I guess we part company here.”

Phillip nodded.

While the guys crowded on stage, the girls were beginning to gather into their usual cliques: the popular girls (mainly the school officers and some cheerleaders), the stuck-up girls (the rest of the cheerleaders, some rich and some wannaberich girls), the who-can-remember-them girls (you know, the ones you can’t remember), and the wild ones (who either dressed as sluts or were ones). Lee looked at them and wondered about which group he wanted to belong to.

“Okay, we’re simply gonna have you read a few lines to hear what you sound like. You don’t have to overact or make wild gestures. Just be yourself and it’ll be a lot less stressful. Let’s start with the dark-haired fellow with the striped shirt. What’s your name?”

“Phillip.”

“Do you have a last name, Phillip?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

“Uh, do you really want to know?”

“Yes.”

“Morris.”

“Very funny, our first reader and he’s a comedian. You don’t happen to smoke, do you, Mr. Phillip Morris?”

“No, really,” Lee blurted out, “his name’s Phillip Morris. He’s a friend of mine.”

“Okay, Phillip, I want you to read the first few lines…what?” Phillip gestured to his empty hands. Mrs. Bryant turned to her assistant. “Lynn, will you take a copy of the script up to Phillip. He doesn’t seem to have the play memorized. In fact, take this whole stack up there.”

“I want the guys in the front of the line to take one of the scripts and start looking it over, especially the parts of Mr. Vangelder and the two stockboys. You’ll be reading from one of those parts.”

“Okay, Phillip, I want you to turn to the part where Mr. Vangelder and Dolly are in the restaurant, on page 71. Just pick a line and start reading. I’ll read Dolly’s part.”

• • • • • • • •

 

 

Lee breathed in and began reading. “I ask you again, Inspector. How can one person commit two murders at two different places at the same time? If Mr. Humboldt had such an ability to be in two places at once, why kill someone? Why doesn’t he rob a bank instead and at the same time have an airtight alibi?” Lee paused for imaginary laughter. “Or go on a seemingly boring shopping trip with his wife while making wild, passionate love to his mistress?” Lee paused again. “Now, those you could call motives for dual lives.”

“Thank you, Mr. Colline. Thank you very much,” the director called out with just a slight smile in his voice, “we’ll let you know our decision on Tuesday.”

Chapter 11: Quiet Time Room

Someone knocked on the door. “Excuse me, Lee, but according to your records, you were supposed to take this medicine an hour ago. Could I ask you to sit up to take it?” the nurse asked me kindly.

“I don’t want to get up,” I responded wanly, rolling away from the door.

“We’ve let you lay in bed for four hours now. I’m afraid that you’ll have to join us sometime and I would love to see you out with the other patients during my shift.”

“The doctor said I could have some peace and quiet today. He didn’t say anything about being interrupted for medicine.”

“Well, Dr. Forrest probably didn’t tell you a lot of things because he knew you have a lot on your mind. Tell you what. I’ll give you a few minutes to wake up while I finish checking on a couple of other people on the hall. How does that sound?”

“Dandy,” I sarcastically mumbled.
 

 

Chapter 12: Forever Lost

I will always be attracted to someone like you. At the same time I will be repelled by your inadequacies, your humanness. I sit down to write, though, and I only think of you, you who is a reflection of me, a human, yet never completely like me because you are human. How can I ask you to be perfect?

If you stood in front of me right now, I would consume you like a can of soft drink, sucked dry and discarded. You would only provide temporary relief from my thirst and then I would want another. I consume you now, burning my thoughts of you to fuel the writing machine within my head.

You have lived a thousand years in one moment. You blinked your eyes and Rome fell. In one heartbeat, your children gave birth to a hundred generations. Yet . . . yet, yet, yet . . . yet you have one life to share with me, one life of remorse and forgiveness, regrets and love, a life filled with pain unbearable to look at. I want to have all of your pain, not because I want to relieve your burdens but to squeeze them in my hand and watch stories drip out one by one. I am mad with desire.

And don’t think you can run away from me. Once I have reached you, and you know I have, you will always cart me along with you like a monkey on your back. I won’t weigh you down but you will feel my presence all the same. You’ll cringe your neck muscles every time my hot breath creeps down you like a tentacle, feeling for a limb or appendage to grasp. You’ll relax your muscles when I whisper in your ear that I love you. You will love me and hate me.

I never worry about losing you because you are always there for me. Your name is different this time but I don’t care. You will give me what I want – a fleeting moment of humanity – and then I reduce you and our relationship to mere words. Don’t underestimate the humility of words, either. If you think you can escape unscathed then you have not lived. After all, life is painful.

I never lose you but I will miss you when I have used you and our shared moment of humanity is gone. Even now, I sense the emptiness inside of me swell up and beg for escape. I have to fill the emptiness or I have no choice but to die. I will not allow myself to die so I must take a part of you.

I cannot allow myself to live. Other people deserve to live their lives without fear of people like me, a leech.

“I believe we’ll have to commit him indefinitely this time,” the examining doctor told her. “He seems unable to separate fantasy from reality.”

“Can you snap him out of this? He still has moments where he seems normal.”

“Only time will tell.”

Time stands still at the corner, waiting for the bus. Cliché walks up and asks how long Time has been waiting. “Seems like forever,” he says, shaking his head. Cliché decides to walk on, he has had enough of the watered down years of standing on street corners and telling tall tales.

In the end, we’re all clichés for living.

I cannot help myself. I reject you with one sweep of my hand because I can never have you. I have nothing and hate myself for thinking any different. I am but a collection of entropy states swirling together.

The End