Caleb breaks it off; Chyler, despite everything, ticks days off the statute of limitations. On the thirty-second he dozes on her couch, and she brings him hot chocolate with cayenne pepper in it, and together, they hesitate.
And Renee? First she can’t sleep. Then she sleeps all the time. She goes off spaghetti for a while–goes off eating, really, but gets over it. She gets better with her guitar. She finds love less piercing and friends less tart.
Like anything glued well, she’ll never break along quite the same lines again; but it’s her story, now, that’s worth following.
Chyler meets Renee and she’s exactly as great as Caleb said: sweet and clever, humble and funny, not beautiful enough to hate, but, well. Prettier.
Caleb looks a little bug-eyed the first time the three of them all bump together, but he aplombs it and from then on they’re a tricycle. Renee practices Spanish guitar while Caleb cheats from Chyler’s notes. Caleb cooks them spaghetti in the filthy dorm kitchen. They get each other by.
Caleb left the book in Chyler’s mailbox, their first day back: it’s called Anthropology. She reads it in an hour, and she doesn’t tell Renee.
Summer’s hot. The news tells Caleb that people are dying of it, in some city up north.
He starts smoking again, ostensibly to help him adjust to the night shift. Nicotine and Cheetos. Stocking boxes bulks up his shoulders, and the hours tire out his eyes.
Caleb’s not stupid: he knows why he and Chyler fell out. He knows the first move is his if it’s anyone’s, but he doesn’t know her address and email won’t cut it.
In September he needs an umbrella: only two weeks until the start of the semester. He visits Renee and, leaving, buys a book.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Chyler tells herself she was already over it. Someone shinier will come along.
But she’s stage-managing Virginia Woolf, and somehow he becomes her ASM. Hours alone together in the black box: he smiles at her, plays along with her power trips, talks about Renee. Chyler becomes a little afraid of rehearsal. She gets mad at herself for that. Then at him.
She gets colder and colder; it’s 3 a.m. and they’re striking the set, and for no real reason it finally comes to a fight. Everybody watches him storm out the sliding door.
They don’t speak; and then it’s summer.
Caleb and Chyler meet without meeting on the last night of winter, at a Mojoday party, apparently. She showed up for Diego, who disappeared after five minutes. Caleb just came to the wrong house.
He walks her home and turns everything bright and nervous. Chyler is a promise of better days to Caleb, who’s tiring of his girlfriend’s friends; it’s 11:59 p.m. and he’s about to explain this when he slips on the grass. Chyler catches his arm. It’s not electric, not slow-motion, but it’s a touch.
He pulls her off balance. Heedless and headlong, they stumble into spring.
Pretty soon Chicago’s going to end the fight with a kick to the ankle and a shoulder to the jaw, but right now she’s enjoying it. Harley’s got better reach. Harley’s got a scholarship to Wellesley. Lithe, blonde Harley the volleyball player can’t throw a punch.
Not that Chicago took boxing lessons: her cousin Diego taught her to fight filthy, when they were young and short together. Diego grew up with four big brothers. Chicago, with none, always wondered why he didn’t run and hide.
This is what she’s learning: it’s a hot sick good time, hurting people bigger than you.
The man on the street turns back and stops, looking puzzled. Fingal notices, and hesitates too.
“Did you used to wear glasses?” asks the man.
“I’m sorry?” says Fingal. “Do I…?”
The man turns away. Fingal shakes his head and almost runs into a pudgy woman in sweatpants.
“You haven’t aged a day,” she chuckles.
“Yes I have,” he says, “ma’am.”
“Why did you shave your head?” asks a homeless man. “Where is your silver crown?”
“I’m not who you think I am!” shouts Fingal.
“You will be,” murmurs someone in the gathering crowd, and wipes scented oil on his forehead.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
In the line for the bonesetter a boy named Raisin offers to push Prerna’s chair, and she, for once, accepts. At the end he cuts in front of her.
“You again,” growls the bonesetter. “I don’t have your daddy’s skull.”
“Then a knuckle,” says Raisin. His voice is rising. “A toe, a tooth, something I can take and–”
The bonesetter nods, and two men with rhinoskin pull Raisin outside.
“Sorry.” The bonesetter leans down to Prerna, smiling. “What are we building you?”
Prerna needs legs. She can hear the men working. There are cries, and tearing sounds.
“Wings,” she says hoarsely.
“As you know, Nadnerb, infodumps are the basis of our modern society,” says Snikda interestingly. “Through quantum laser hacking of our delta waves, we can transmit information directly from machine to brain–elimininating the ancient process called ‘education,’ and allowing us to enjoy a new golden age of philosophy, science and art.” The Space Navy captain and 6’4″ father of two chuckles. “Whenever I look in a mirror and see my attractive, bioengineered body and vibrant blue hair, I can’t help but think–this modern life would be impossible–if not for infodumps!”
“I didn’t actually know that,” says Snikda.