|
Kael's Diary
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Archive-name: kael.6.94-3
<Author's Note: this is one chapter in my on-going sexual self-
examination. Theoretically each part should stand on its own and
their chronological order is irrelevant..>
Kael's Diary: June, 1994 "Closer" part three
"Hi, come on in."
I was freshly shaved and showered, a clean pair of jeans, nice
casual print T-shirt and a nifty vest with little Snoopys all over it. Her
Boss and His Wife had just entered the Goodman homestead. It was a
few Saturdays earlier and we were having them for dinner.
Why not? The day before Maria had Him for lunch.
I had been dreading this evening ever since Maria suggested
it. Sure, why not, supper with the dork twins, it'll be fun. Of course, I
was hardly being fair, and I kept it all to myself anyway. I had only just
met them at that housewarming party we'd had, showing off our lovely
new home to my friends and her co-workers. My time with my good
good good friends who I barely saw any more was precious, so after a
perfunctory little chat I went downstairs to play cards with people I
really care about.
He, actually taller than I am, and with about seven years on
me, a thick head of hair (the bastard) parted neatly like some fucking
six year-old in line for some snapshots at K Mart. Or a Young
Republican. A weak chin, prominent front teeth and a goofy smile.
Guys like this always have long, hard dicks. Great muscular
penises. I think it's from lack of use (yeah, of course I'd think that) and
they comically inflate at the worst times.
We shook hands. It was like groping gazpacho.
She, gawky and short, skinny and freckled and wild eyed like
she was on the verge of a complete nervous collapse. I knew the
minute she stepped in the door she would not be able to stop talking.
But I was primed and ready. Shame it was a show night or I would
have gotten half-tanked, but oh well.
"It's good to see you again," He said.
"Yes," I said, "welcome, Maria will be down in a moment."
"I'm so excited about seeing your show tonight," She said, "I
was really looking forward to seeing it last week but I know you had to
cancel it."
"Lack of ticket sales."
"Yes, I heard," She continued, "but we've just been talking
about it all week and I've just heard so much it really sounds
interesting and I think we're going to have a wonderful time."
"Can I take your jacket?"
"Of course. Dear, hold this for me, oh MY this place looks so
much nicer when it's not full of people, that's a very nice picture, was
that there before? I didn't notice it during the party."
"Yes."
"It's very nice."
"It is," I said, "it is very nice, thank you."
I think our spouses are fucking each other.
"Can I get you both something to drink?" I asked, and led them
into our kitchen.
"Oh, the kitchen," She said, "I love their kitchen."
"It's nice," I said, opening the fridge.
Later we sat around a table eating an excellent vegetarian
meal which Maria and I spent all day preparing. Actually, she
prepared it, I cleaned the house. I clean better than Maria does, and
she cooks better than me. That's why we got married.
"That's a nice van you have parked out there," I said.
"Yes," He said, "it runs like a dream."
Of course it does.
"I used to have a van, you know," I said.
"It was stolen," Maria said.
"Oh that's terrible," She said.
"Broke my heart," I said, "I have a new car now, one that I don't
care about."
"Yes," He said, "I saw it outside, the Honda."
"I never want to care so much about an inorganic thing again in
my life." I said, adding, "except Maria."
"That's sweet," She said.
You don't have a clue, do you?
"I had to have the clutch replaced a few days ago," I said.
"Ah right," He said, nodding his head with understanding, "you
shift too soon."
I stared at him with wide-eyed amusement. I looked to Maria.
"Been telling tales out of school, darling?" I said. Everyone at
the table laughed. "Any more of my little quirks you been sharing with
the boys?"
"Oh, Kael," Maria said.
I looked at Him. "I feel so violated. You ever have that
feeling?"
"No," He said, looking down at his place and humorously
shaking his head.
"Well," I said, removing the napkin from my lap and setting it on
the table, "that was delicious."
"Yes," She said, "you did a very nice job with this. I can't take
the time to cook as well as this, not with the children running around
and all, I'm always having to make something quick and dirty --"
"-- Speaking of which," I said, cutting her off, "I apologize, but I
need to grab a quick and dirty nap before tonight's show, I hope you
don't think I'm awful."
Even if I know you all are.
"No," came the general response, and I slumphed upstairs to
rest my eyes for fifteen minutes, in some kind of attempt to calm my
fractured nerves.
***
"Where are you goin'?"
Mid-afternoon, Monday, Chicago. The second day malaise of
most two-day road trips had settled in like an unwanted house guest
(or, hell, let's say two unwanted house guests) and it was time to make
sure I did everything I had promised.
"Well, Jackie, if you must know, I am going with Satch and Gail
to that mall that was closed yesterday and I'm gonna find a little
present for Maria."
"Bring me back something," she said, and hopped out onto the
porch to have another cigarette.
***
There's this mall, I can't remember the name, but the layout
inside is like the Guggenheim Museum in New York -- the walkway
spirals up and up, so saying that it has seven floors isn't quite accurate
because as long as you keep walking straight ahead, you eventually
pass through all seven of them.
A store called simply "Metals". I found some cute, handmade
earrings, pure silver, flattened hoop with three tiny bars of onyx
hanging from it, with other bits of silver and crystal, bent and curvy,
delicate craftsmanship. A very attractive and sensible piece of jewelry.
Maria can wear them to work with practically anything, and they also
wouldn't look out of place dancing topless around a pagan fire. She
will just love them.
...and an ankh. A couple of them, dangling from a display. You
can't walk down Main Street, USA without seeing them for sale, but
they still struck me.
A symbol for our generation. Eternity, but also an acceptance
of death (the "Death" character in DC's Sandman comics always
sports an ankh) permission to live recklessly and to not squander any
moment. Not the "X" Generation, the "Ankh" Generation.
Malekha, with whom I had a very brief, intimate moment back
in 1991 always wore an ankh, recently she had one tattooed on her
back. The kind of woman who would wear an ankh. Ankh. Ankh,
ankh, ankh. My keyboard just likes it when I type the word 'ankh' (oh,
and now I suppose I am Tom Robbins). One in particular, it was a few
inches long and it was flattened silver. A little gaudy? Yes.
A pair of earrings, then, and one gaudy ankh. I kept my
promises.
***
Second night in Chicago. The last night. We had seen a
production called "I'm Sweating Under My Breasts" at Cafe Voltaire.
Eight original monologues about being a woman in this modern world.
The performance space reminded me of those old films of The Beatles
playing at "The Cavern". It was just a long, low ceilinged,
subterranean tunnel with a Persian Carpet to mark off the small
playing area and rows and rows of second hand chairs and sofas.
Jackie and I sat in front on some cushions.
"Liking the show?" I asked at intermission.
"Some of it," Jackie said. "I'm real sleepy, though."
We had all dressed up again. I was wearing a different, cute,
striped shirt and my new black vest I'd gotten at the Army-Navy store.
She was wearing the same ensemble as the night before, groovy
patterned shirt, bright blue blazer, and a new addition hanging around
her neck.
"I like your necklace," I said. "It's nice and tacky."
She gave me a big dimpled smile. "Thanks. It was a present."
"Sleep with me tonight?"
She gave me an bemused look. "Mm, okay."
***
Jackie and I tried in vain to find to find a disco open in Chicago,
in our neighborhood, on a Monday night, but it was a lost cause.
Every place we stepped into didn't have a dance floor, and every
place those places recommended we look appeared to have been
raided the previous week.
We went back to Martin and Wilson's place to find everyone
watching "Duckman", but even that lost its appeal after twenty minutes
and everyone hunkered off to bed.
It was cold that night. It had been cold outside, and the warm
early June breeze that came through Wilson's bedroom window the
night before had turned unseasonably bitter. Jackie and I lay side by
side and kissed a few times.
"Want to fool around?" I whispered.
"Uh-huh," she said, looking up at me.
"Okay," I said, "we'll wait until everyone falls asleep."
"Okay."
Everyone fell asleep.
***
I woke to dawn's early light.
Fuck.
I looked at the clock. It was shortly after four in the morning.
Well, heck, we'd only been snoozing for two hours at this point, no one
was planning on getting up until seven anyway. We could still fit it in,
and this time I was ready.
I leaned over and peered at Jackie. Completely sacked. Her
cheeks were bunched up like baby dough on one side, her lip
smacker lips parted, front teeth puckered out and snoring. So cute.
So adorable, I could cry.
Could I be so hard up? Despite my own clever comments
proving to her what a big man I was and how I wouldn't let something
as trivial as a limp dick hurt my pride...well, it's all a big act, isn't it? I
had something to prove. Something base and infantile.
Truth? I was in love. This woman had really done something
to me -- or was it her? Maybe it was just the time or the locale, or
perhaps the distance. Sure I'd kissed her before, but after I always
went home. What do you do when you make love to someone and
when you wake up, they're still there? You can't get away. You have
to continue loving them until, all of a sudden, it's too late, bang, you've
been duped, you thought you were acting again, but some part of the
charade became real.
Big snore.
Go back to sleep, little man. You're in way over your head
here, your holiday is over, and tomorrow you gotta go back home.
***
Parting was awkward. The trip home, unlike the one there,
was made in broad daylight and most of us spent the time
concentrating on different responsibilities we would have for that
night's rehearsal at eight o'clock.
We arrived back at the theater (where all of our cars were
parked) at around three in the afternoon, and I still had the van to
return. I said "see you in a few hours" to Jackie as she got into her
shitty little cherry red Ford Festiva but it was more like "good-bye".
We kissed once more before she sped off and somehow I
knew it would be the last kiss for a very long time. I felt cold and alone,
like there was some organ I was missing, some gaping hole that, for a
short time, this little monster had managed to fill.
I look over the pages of this diary, my workbook containing my
most secret and horrifying thoughts, Christ, if my friends ever got hold
of this book, well I would certainly be fucked, wouldn't I? These pages
covered in loose, sloppy handwriting, chronicling the parade of half-
finished relationships which make up my life, over a decade of dismal
failures and shallow victories. Becky, Fran, Michelle, Barbara, Sarah,
Alex, Betts, Maria, Malekha, Aggie, Ariel, now Jackie, to name a
handful. I keep trying to find a pattern, if I could just step back and see
the picture from all sides, maybe I can figure what went wrong. All I
can see from here is a man who spent his entire life struggling to be
loved and desired. It's just a little pathetic, you know?
Put down the book. Set it aside, hide it up in the attic and
come back to it in a few years, get some distance, man.
And besides, maybe a book is the wrong place to start trying to
figure it all out.
***
"Hey, honey."
"Baby, is that you?"
"Yeah," I stepped into my house, dropped my duffel, and Maria
came downstairs to give me a big hug. She felt so different from
Jackie, her back much broader, her long dark hair so thick in my
hands. My poor baby's face still bore the damage of an only recently
survived bout with acne (oh, I sympathized, boy did I sympathize) but
that was vanishing fast, and her smile was wide and bright and her
eyes even more so.
We kissed full adult kisses, reserved and adoring, less saliva,
more technique, what do you expect after five years? Her arms
wrapped around my neck and I reached in front to massage her happy
little breasts, and then down to fondle her huge behind. She smelled
so fresh and beautiful.
"How was your trip," she asked.
Big sigh. "S'was great. I'm really spanked."
I picked up my bag and marched upstairs. She followed close
behind as I began tossing things in the laundry bin in our yet to be
redecorated since we bought the house bedroom.
"Tell me everything," she said, sitting on the bed.
"First things first," I said, casually sorting smelly clothes, "what,
exactly, is going on between you and your boss?"
"I was wondering when you were gonna ask," she said, tensing
herself up, but smiling.
"I thought we didn't have to ask," I said calmly, recalling our
pledge of total disclosure.
"Wee-ll," she said, "we are fooling around."
"Fuck him yet?" I asked.
"No," she said, "just a lot of groping in stairwells and stuff like
that."
"Uh-huh," I said, sitting next to her on the bed, "well, I had a
girlfriend this weekend."
"I knew you two had a thing going."
"Oh, no, we didn't, this was a surprise."
"Was it."
"Well, whether it was or not, I think it was just this weekend," I
said. "I want to tell you I'm very depressed."
"Oh, baby," she said, and I lowered my head into her lap. She
drew her fingers through my hair.
"It's just," I started, staring up into the ceiling fan, slowly turning
around and around, "it's like, from my point of view, my life experience
is populated with all of these ghosts who fade in and out, but even
when they're gone, this trace stays behind, this spiritual residue, do
you get me or am I just talking shit?"
"Oh no," she said, purring softly.
"I need to start killing them," I said, "my every movement and
solitary thought contains the leftover fragrance of some past lover or
friend and I've forgotten myself in all of them."
"That's life, dear," she said, hunching down to kiss my
forehead. I began to weep softly.
"I'm so tired," I said. "I just don't think I can do this any more.
I..." Big sob. "I'm tired of losing myself in other people, I'm so lost, I
just don't know where I am."
She drew a hand along my cheek and smooshed the hot tears
over my face.
"I just...want to be..."
"Tsh, tsh, tsh, tsh, tsh," she whispered, "what do you want to
be?"
I thought for a long moment.
"Me," I said.
That seemed to be right. She sat tall and looked straight
ahead while I gathered my composure. Huh. I cry about once every
four years, I just don't allow myself the satisfaction. See you in 1998.
"So, uhm," she said.
"What?" I asked, sitting up, snuffling.
"Well, it's gonna seem kind of selfish." she said, playing with
the zits on the back of my neck for a moment before I took her hand
into my lap.
"Ha!" I said. "Selfish, well hell, that's you and me all over, isn't
it. What do you want?"
"Should I stop messing around with him?"
I chuckled softly to myself, and then laughed a little bit louder. I
let out a great congested guffaw and threw up my hands in
resignation.
"Whatever."
***
*Special note to all "Diary" fans: thank you all for your letters, and if
you like my work but have never written me, please do so, because I
have a special announcement to make which I will send personally to
anyone who has ever given me their support.
Mail to: [email protected]
You'll be glad you did.
-- KG
|
|
