Tankers and Feebs

March 10, 2018May 6, 2018 ~ Piece, of the Sky

knee kick

Ran stood outside the hotel door, right at peep-hole height. Kaan opened the door, in a cashmere sweater and jeans, “You’re early.”

“Didn’t want you to brood,” Ran said, “Ferment in your own brine.”

“Was I interrupting anything?” Kaan asked.

“No,” Ran answered, “Alli went up to her parents’ house this afternoon. I was left with nothing to do, on a rainy evening.”

Kaan waved Ran in and closed the door, “She didn’t take you?”

“Well, we did just meet,” Ran said, taking in the room, glancing at the chefs on the television set.

Kaan opened the ice bucket and fixed them both two fingers of Fireball whiskey. They sat on the couch.

“How is Beth?” Ran wondered.

“She’s fine,” Kaan said, “She likes the cabin, and Maine. I admit, I’m shocked.”

“Yes, she was always more of a city girl,” Ran said, sipping her whiskey, “She studied literature in NYU. We were in the same Creative Writing classes together. We were the brat pack, with our first books published right out of college.”

“Wow, I wouldn’t have guessed,” Kaan said, impressed.

“You wouldn’t have put it past her, would you?” Ran grinned.

“No, no, I’m not that mean,” Kaan laughed.

Ran drank the rest of her whiskey and got up, “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Kaan also stood up, “Yes, let’s. I’ve festered in here long enough.”

Out on the city streets, a light drizzle was falling. They caught a cab going Downtown, to Labyrinth.

It was Leather Night at the club. The place was packed with party-goers in black leather jackets and black leather police caps. Kaan and Ran were in the minority, wearing gray and navy-blue blazers, respectively.

At the bar, they ordered margaritas. Ran chewed on her slice of lime. On the stage, a chain-link fence and metal posts had been erected around an octagon. Two amateur female MMA fighters were going at it in a cage fight. The mosh pit of spectators roared their various notes of satisfaction or dissatisfaction.

“Alli’s been through a great deal,” Kaan began, “Are you going to do right by her?”

“Of course! I would, but -” Ran cut herself off.

“What?” Kaan asked, sitting up.

Ran turned to her, “She’s stuck on someone else.”

“Who?” Kaan demanded, and then closed her eyes, “Oh.”

“We look alike apparently,” Ran said, “She is with me, but her mind – her spirit – is obviously elsewhere.”

Kaan fidgeted, “Well, they were together in high school. First loves and all.”

“So, I’m the repeat,” Ran said, “I don’t know whether to be perturbed or flattered.”

“It is possible to hold two competing ideas in your mind, at the same time,” Kaan shrugged, taking a sip of her drink.

“Like her!” Ran said, spreading her hands wide, “Why do I feel like the cuckold here?”

Kaan gave her a look, “I don’t think you should.”

A swift kick to the face brought one of the contenders down. She did not get up. The other fighter stood over the fallen foe in victory, for a moment, before being pushed out of the way by the ref.

“Do you think that some of them throw fights, for gangs or whatever?” Ran said, facing the cage on her stool.

“Sure,” Kaan said, “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Ran looked back at Kaan, “Do you think people throw relationships too?”

The corners of Kaan’s smirk turned down a few notches, “C’mon Ran. I imagined you to be a tougher soul than this.”

Ran looked back at the scene in the ring. The cadre of the two fighters were yelling at each other, as paramedics pulled the flattened fighter off the mat. The crowd in the pit ate it up, screaming for more.

Neo-Tokyo_Akira

Music:

Saint-Saens – Samson et Dalila, “Mon cœur s’ouvre à ta voix”

Control the Dream

February 26, 2018May 6, 2018 ~ Piece, of the Sky

Fuji Elsa-wave

Raindrops in the sea. Ghosts of mist and clouds floated out to the horizon, into the black night. The rain threw up little explosions of sand on the beach, constantly washed away by the waves. The sky was the color of slate, streaked with pewter, like a block of marble.

It was a warm rain; the gusts were controlled and mild. The palm trees sashayed in the wind, their fronds leaning back and forth, water sliding off the resin on their leaves. Ran and Alli watched this vista from the hardwood patio of Ran’s cabana. Their perspective was framed by the posts of the porch and thatch sticking out from the roof, providing a dry patch of sand for them to burrow their toes in.

Ran’s boat was moored in front of them, lashed to a log standing in the water, near the dock. They had covered it in blue tarpaulin, before the rain started, as the wind was chasing the clouds and covering up the moon.

They stared at the rain, their pants’ feet rolled up over their ankles. The boat lolled up and down in the water from another shore. Rocks and sand were carried out to sea, caught on currents meant for somewhere else.

Alli glanced at Ran’s yellow, fiberglass surfboard, leaning against the cabana façade, and said, “So, you surf too?”

“Yes, since I was a teenager,” Ran said, watching the darkness and leaning on her knees.

“Is that why you came out here?” Alli asked.

“Somewhat,” Ran answered. She turned to Alli, still hugging her knees, “Why did you come out here?”

“Well, Xen invited me out here,” Alli said. She crossed her arms and leaned on her knees also. She sunk her toes deeper into the cool sand. The rain pelted a smaller island, farther out at sea.

Ran turned and looked back at her feet, “You said I reminded you of someone. Who?”

Alli looked at Ran, “A friend from high school.”

“Is she still your friend?”

“Yes,” Alli said. She looked out over the gray water. A streak of lightning flashed, illuminating the distant island.

The rain picked up and it became colder, the dampness seeping under the thatch roof. They shifted together now, for warmth, yet still left a space between them – two hedgehogs in the downpour.

“What do you do?” Alli asked.

Ran smiled, crossed arms holding heat to her chest, “I work in a surf shop, of course. But I also write fiction. I wrote one novel that sold well, while I was still in college, but I haven’t been able to follow it up since. I just write short stories and book reviews now.”

“What was your book about?” Alli wondered.

Ran turned to Alli now, “The tendrils of love that still linger.”

“Romance, huh?” Alli said.

“Yes. I guess it just caught the zeitgeist of the age. Nostalgia for Generation X, or Y – or something,” Ran said. She looked back at her toes.

Alli moved so that her shoulder touched Ran’s. The thunder growled out beyond the tiny island, buffeted by the sea, lone palm tree swaying in the gathering gale.

Fisherman's_Jumping_Game