It's Still Life

At an Intersection Named After an English King and a Saint
Six Sentence Story: Part 38.2 & 38.3

Fracturing the Now

Part 38.2

“What more do you need to know – I am Hanzō.”

And he’s right, of course, I don’t … I don’t need to know if he’s married; if he loves her; if she misses him; I don’t need to know where he’d place his hand on me for the first time … if there was a first time … but for months, my eyes have traced the curve of his thigh, the back of his calf, the shape of his ears, the way his muscles are a serpentine’s movement, the way his breath has become the wind, and that each measured exhale steadies my world, and of course I don’t need to know more.

My laptop’s wakes … Drake’s face fills the black screen, “Don’t go there, Brigid, don’t even think it; you are a linear thinker – past, present and future, but Hanzō is not – he is nonlinear, his time is fluid – all moments exist simultaneously, and what you are thinking will fracture his “now” … his moment … it is not meant to be.”

I stare at Drake’s unblinking eyes, his emotionally blank face … my vocabulary is drained without benefit of adjectives and adverbs and calming commas, and I feel my temper rising … “Fuck me,” I hiss at Drake.

“Fuck,”replies Drake, “is functioning as a verb, an imperative verb, which means it’s being used as a command or exclamation, and “me” is functioning as a pronoun, specifically, it’s the objective form of the first-person singular pronoun, serving as the direct object of the verb “fuck” … and should be used with great care and caution.”

“In which case,” I reply, “Fuck you!”

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… continued …

Part 38.3

I fill an over-sized travel bag with basics (black jeans; 3 white t-shirts; a few dresses; a black cashmere roll-neck jumper; a woollen hat, scarf and gloves; tweed wool coat, hair brush; toiletries … and driving shoes … my yellow rain boots are already in the car) then I race to the kitchen and grab 4 boxes of Oreos and chuck them into the bag – anything else I need I’ll buy when I need it.

I press the keys to Arpege into Pierre’s hand, “It’s time for you to go back to what you do best; you’re a chef; be a chef, Pierre, and keep Arpege full and running while I’m away – I’ll be back (I shrug) … when I’m back.”

Hanzō is leaning against the fridge, and I stop to take in the sight of him, etch the moment into my heart, “If I need you, how can I reach you quickly, Hanzō,” and he says, “Come here,” and he places two fingers on my forehead and tells me to close my eyes … “now see two doors: if you need me, you’ll find me through the door on the left – I will find you through the door on the right … and may you benefit from we who love and protect you, Brigid.”

I smile, kiss him goodbye, and without looking back, head for the garage.

“Wake up, my black basalt beauty,” I smile at the throaty guttural roar of its engine, crisp and aggressive and eager to taste the road, and I am flushed with adrenaline … the garage doors close behind me, and I drive through the now familiar cobblestone streets, stopping outside the Six Sentence Café & Bistro for one last look … when

my eye catches a brassy flash of light from a lion head’s cane, and in front of the Bistro’s old oak red door stands The Gatekeeper, Nick the Gatekeeper, and the 911’s engine purrs as if disguising its predatory appetite that we share, and I push the passenger-side door open, not taking my eyes from him, and say, “I’m leaving town for a while, heading for the Scottish Highlands: no telly; no mobile network coverage; no social media; no agro; just lots of music and every book I’ve ever wanted to read.

“Do you want to come with me … on a road trip?” and I burst into laughter at the thought that he might just accept.

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Written for Denise’s Six Sentence Story including the word “Benefit”.  Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked, and when not for commercial use. Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2024.