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Here's a sneak peak at the "prologue" to The Everlasting... PROLOGUE
I truthfully wished someone would run over me before I got there. It could’ve happened. It was dark and rainy, so the roads were slick and I was crossing the street wherever I pleased. If God or fate or luck was on my side, or if I just screwed up the courage to do it myself, I could end up under the wheels of some horrified citizen’s automobile, and I would never have to knock on her door. I had walked all the way. The state I was in, even if I had a car, driving would have been a bad idea. The buses were running, but I couldn’t sit on one and face all those people staring at me. I knew they would. I’ve done it myself when someone agitated gets on. You can’t help but look. Everyone loves a ticking time bomb. What had I been thinking? I mean, really? Everything was so messed up. I spent the day trying to decide how to do it. The day and the better part of last night, and really, the last week and before that, back to when everything disintegrated and I was left standing amongst the crumbs wondering why I had done this to myself. Was I born with these problems, or was it just my bad luck to be a man? God is obviously a woman, because if She were male, He wouldn’t have made us all so incredibly stupid. “Hi, Quentin...it’s me...Lance!...Can I come in?...I have some important things to say, and you deserve them face-to-face...Uh, no, I don’t know why you should let me. You’re right, there’s no reason to. But if there is any hope left, or even if there isn’t, if you just want to spit in my eye and tell me to fuck myself, well, then, this is your chance...Hello?” “Hi, Quentin...it’s me...I just wanted to tell you...I love you, I’ve always loved you, and it was stupid of me to go anywhere else.” “Hi, Quentin...it’s me...Don’t you think second chances are awesome things?” “Hi, Quentin...it’s me...the asshole....” A million scenarios were playing out in my head, but I knew they were no good. Quentin was too unpredictable. Plus, if I imagined life going a certain way, that meant it wouldn’t. I’d figured that out as a kid. I saw the future as a house full of many rooms, and if I actually caught a glimpse of one of them, the door would close and lock from the inside. So every time I fantasized about getting a supercool toy for Christmas, I was doomed to go without it. Thus, no matter how many ways I imagined Quentin taking me back, no matter how many ways I envisioned her rejecting me, it was inevitable that it would go down in a way I hadn’t even fathomed. However it went, I knew I deserved the negative, and the positive would be pure, sweet luck. By the time I got there, the inside of my shoes squished when I walked. I was soaked, and I smelled awful. If I couldn’t win her with reason, maybe I could woo her through pity. I had no problem debasing myself. Any humiliation would be worth it. You see, this was the girl. There was no doubt about that now. I had tried to duck out of it, had tried to convince myself there were other options, that there were other kisses worth having, but it was all bullshit. I had felt the last lips I would ever need to feel. What the hell had I been thinking? Her apartment building came into view, and my knees buckled. I was more scared at that moment than I had ever been in my entire life. Were I to cross the street and go up her steps and ring her number, there was no turning back. My fate would be sealed. I would know once and for all whether our relationship would live or die, whether I would love her in person or somewhere far away. # -- Hello, Quentin.... I could hear her dog barking in the background. Thankfully, the beast liked me, and I didn’t have much fear of Quentin being able to convince her to attack me and rip me apart. -- Lance? What are you doing here? She hung up. A dial tone came through the speaker and lingered there for a minute, and then it turned into a loud beeping. I quickly hit the pound key and hung it up. I know I said I’d suffer any humiliation, but someone hearing the callbox alarm and then eavesdropping on my groveling wasn’t something I needed in my life. The rain was just a drizzle by that point. In other towns, a downpour would be dramatic punctuation, but in Portland it was just the way of things. It would’ve been more fitting if suddenly the sun were out and everything else in the world was bright while my heart fell into shadow. Quentin emerged after what seemed like a long time, coming down a staircase into the foyer. I could see her through the big glass doors. She had on ripped sweat pants, an old T-shirt, and her slippers with the dragonflies on them. Her bleached blonde hair had been hastily pulled away from her face with hair clips. She’d probably been settled in for the night, been crafting her jewelry or reading, and I was disturbing her. -- What do you want, Lance? I reached up and ran my fingers through the wet clump on my head. I could see its color up above me, saturated straight through with rain. -- Trust me, you don’t want to know... |