another bright spark

He keeps his eyes on Stacy across the room. Bright lights flash behind her. Glass clinks and clanks chip at his ears. Music thumps over the top of everything. He feels boxed in; almost sensory deprived. She smiles at the guy she is talking to. Earlier he and Stacy had been involved in a heated discussion. They were always arguing. She irritated him with her attitude. To him, she was insufferably conceited. He took it upon himself to try and knock her down with nasty quips, jabs and a general mean spirit. Sometimes he made him so angry that the sound of her voice made the inside of his head itch. Her overwhelming fragrance made him want to purge the bile that would churn in his gut in her presence. Yet, here he is staring at her as she mingles with most of their co-workers. Was he jealous? She was having a good time and all could do was sit away from the group and drink beer after beer. He thought of her as a virus.

A few months prior, on a similar night out, they had gotten into an argument that isolated them from the rest of their co-workers. Before they realized it, everyone had made their way someplace else. The little party was over. They had continued to drink through their disagreement until their insults had ceased to make any sense. They had stayed so long that he had missed his last bus home, while she had outlasted the person she had hoped to get a lift home from. At least she lived within walking distance. Reluctantly, she asked if he minded walking home with her. Despite enjoying the idea of her facing a cold walk home alone through a shady neighborhood, he agreed to go with her. He had nowhere to go anyway. While they stumbled towards her place, their constant debate and verbal abuse simmered into actual quiet conversation. They both asked each other simple questions regarding each other’s pasts. She confessed to him of a former engagement that was broken due to her fiancés infidelity. After that had happened she had cropped her long blond hair down to nothing in protest. He felt a pang of sympathy for her and stayed silent. Once they reached her home, they caught her roommate getting ready to go to bed. Stacy introduced them to each other and then invited him in for a drink.

Her laugh snapped him out of his memory. She looked at him momentarily and then returned to her conversation. He was pretty sure that she was aware that he had been watching her all evening. She put one of her hands across the back of her neck for a moment and then fussed with an earring, while keeping focus on the new guy. The look in her eyes reminded him of that one night.

After she had invited him in, they sat next to each other on her couch and sipped from bottles of cheap beer. Their conversation continued examining each other’s histories, until she shifted gears to find out about his romantic status. He confessed that he had none. She seemed surprised, which kind of shocked him. She told him that any woman would want to be with a guy like him. Stacy leaned over closer to him and softly told him that he needed to open up and be himself and the women would find him. Then she leaned back again and laughed that awful laugh.

He bristled from that memory and orders another beer from the waitress. He wondered if this is what his life will be like. The only passion he had ever exhibited in his life was to solely spew venom at those who bugged him. The only sign of life he had ever shown – going back to grade school – had always been with the girls who grinded his nerves. The girls he liked would have never known, because he could not convey those feelings. It was always the girls who pissed him off. They were always girls who would not back down and they were the ones who always stuck with him. They are the ones he still remembers, while his actual crushes faded away.

The waitress set his latest beer on the table and took the empty pint. She says, “Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know,” he responds without looking up. He didn’t want to see Stacy having a good time anymore. Seeing her made him hate himself, because she made it clear that his anger was all that kept him going. Apparently “being himself” meant being an ass.

Perfect

“So I hang an empty smile
Beneath my empty eyes
And go out
For a walk”

-"Perfect" The The (1983)

Every spring time from my freshman year of college at Pacific in 1990 till my last spring in 2001 before becoming a dialysis patient, I used to get a serious craving for Snickers candy bars - the big ones. It started at Pacific most likely because I didn't like the food at the cafeteria and had very little money. Plus with the candy machine in the basement of the Student Center, it gave me an excuse to wander. I used to try the coin on a string trick in hopes the candy machine would be fooled into giving me a Snickers for free. This never worked. If I had enough change, I would buy my candy and slowly eat it as I would walk around the campus and sometimes beyond and enjoy the solitude of an early evening. This long walk for a Snickers tradition continued on for years no matter where I lived. I didn't realize that I had started this tradition until it had to end. When I had my kidneys removed, I could no longer eat chocolate, or nuts, or caramel (or much of anything for that matter), so the tradition ended and hasn't restarted since. Today, was a nice weather day that is now ending with cloud cover. For some reason, it reminded me of those long springtime walks in search of a Snickers bar. I remember one when I had to move back to the coast in the early 90s, where I found that I had wandered all the way down to D River Wayside before finding the candy bar at Jo Jo Land just in time to refuel for the walk back home. Another time, when living near Lloyd Center in NE Portland, I found myself circling the block by the old (now gone) Ferrell's ice cream parlor and considered cheating on Snickers and grabbing a snack inside. The most memorable Snickers journey occured in 2000, when I wandered out the door after having just listened to Sleater-Kinney's "All Hands on the Bad One" CD. I had the first couple of lines from the opening song "Ballad of a Ladyman" looping endlessly in my head:

"eye cream and thigh cream, how 'bout a get

high cream?"

It was an early evening sunday and the streets were quiet. I walked from Goose Hollow into the PSU campus area and the warm day was turning overcast and I could feel a threat of rain coming on, so I quickened my pace. The streets were very quiet and the same refrain from the same song not only was on an endless loop, but I had begun to imitate Corin Tucker's powerful and unique vocal style audibly. I was feeling good, but I didn't want to get rained on, so I looped back towards the west side of I-405, where I had planned to track down the Snickers bar. As I turned a corner in the shadow of a student apartment building, I noticed a couple walking the opposite direction across the street from me. Before I could quiet myself, I had already belted out the intensifying "get high cream" line with my best effort. The couple both looked my way, clearly hearing me, but simply continued on their way. It took me a moment, but I became certain that the woman was Corin Tucker. Part of me liked the idea of her hearing me singing one of her songs while strolling down the street, but most of me didn't feel good about it at all. However, I continued on my way, now preoccupied with an internal debate whether I had just seen who I thought I had. Once I found an open mini-mart, I found my Snickers, and made my way out onto the streets again. A light rain had begun to fall, so I ate the candy faster than normal. As I passed the east side of Lincoln High School, still about 8 blocks from home, I tossed the wrapper into one of those huge cement public trash cans with the metal top. I noticed that the lid had scrawled around the circular opening "Life is a Hole." Ever since seeing that, I've always wanted and have tried to write a short story that uses that line to some poignant end. Nothing has worked so far (any ideas?). Maybe it's time to restart the tradition and go for a walk that promises a treat. I need some inspiration.