Cinematic

Imagine with me that scene at the end of one of those coming of age movies. We've all seen them, most of them were probably crap, but we saw them anyway. In this movie, we've been following this boy through some harsh troubles in school and the destruction of his relationship with the girl he thought he would marry. Finally, after fighting, graduation, and getting shot down one last time, we have this scene.

It's late at night, or early morning. Either way, it's dark and hazy. He's on the street, leaning against a beat-up old car that his uncle gave him for graduation high school. In front of him is a house, her house. The girl he'd been holding on to. All the lights are dark but he knows she's home.

Standing there, he smokes a cigarette. The music has that somber tone and the flash backs start, in black and white.

The two of them, sitting together in first grade sharing crayons. They smile at each other and laugh like kids do.

He flicks some ash and a few sparks drop, dying before the pavement. He breathes out the smoke.

There's the two of them in eighth grade. Some other kid in class says something to her. She cries and he slugs the other kid. Of course he gets sent to the office and his parents come to take him home. But just before he leaves, she hugs him tightly and says, "thank you."

He crushes the cigarette under his foot, next to the other one and starts to light a third.

The two of them are on her front porch. His mom is in the car by the street. Both of them have a hard time looking each other in the eye and stutter through some words. He doesn't know what to do. The honking horn tells him he needs to leave. As he turns, she pecks his cheek and darts into the house. He smiles, even though he can see his mom chuckling in the driver's seat.

He turns his collar up as the wind shifts. The smoke blows toward the house, disappearing in the dark.

Then a flood of happy memories: the two of them on his front porch swing in the sun, sledding down the town snow hill and laughing, him by her bed side trying to measure out the cold medicine and her having to take it before he spilled. The two of them dancing on the basketball court, the rest of the prom a blurred background.

Then there was the shouting. His college choice, her failing grades, her need for him every hour of the day. Then, he found them. Behind the bleachers at the track meet, her and that same kid he had punched years before, arms around each other, faces inseparable.

He grits his teeth, crushing the filter and breathing out his nose like a bull.

He didn't have words to say. All she said was, "it's time for something new" then left with that guy. He sat there behind the bleachers while the track meet finished, with everyone left, and until the sun was just setting. He walked home.

He finishes the last of his cigarette, drops it with the other two, and sighs. He shakes his head, gets into the car and fires it up. It coughs a bit and with the noise, he sees a light go on in her room. The car rolls forward, gaining speed, and disappears past the street lights in the fog.

Yeah, we've all seen those scenes. We know what they mean to. But that's just a movie. He's just a character. That street is just a set. The cigarettes probably aren't even real either. That's the thing. Life can't be nearly as cinematic.

I know, because here I am. Standing on her street in front of her house, leaning on my parents van. I can't afford a car for myself. These cigarettes are clove since real ones irritate my asthma even worse. I don't have a nice coat on since the weather is still too dang hot for me to wear something like that. And the cigarette butts on the ground are far more numerous.

See, I don't have five to seven minutes at the end to wrap up, give the audience an ending, and let the credits roll. I could stand here all damn night and nothing would change. Real people can't move on so easily. Real people don't get those emotional sound tracks playing, or see their memories in black and white. No, real people like me stand here, trying to emulate what they saw in a movie, all the while being totally unable to get her out of my head.

And when I leave, driving off in a van with the broken radio stuck on some talk show, I know I won't be able to move past her for a long time still.

Think Higher

Jim sat on the stack of iron scraps. He listened to the thump of it behind him. 65 beats, every minute. The average. He'd counted them before. Sometimes they increased, but always came back to that same 65 beats. Jim puffed slowly on his cigar.

"Hey ya, Jim." The voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Yo," Jim said, plowing a puff of smoke. "How's it going Jim?"

Jim sat down next to him and fished out a cigarette from his pocket. He lit it and took a few drags before answering. "Not bad. From what I hear, the boss thinks we'll be finished in just a few minutes."

Jim nodded. "Seems about right, We've almost run out of iron anyway, I don't think we could build it up much more." He knocked some ash from the cigar.

"That's what I was thinking. Once they get the top all welded, the gate should be finished." Jim took another pull on his cigarette. "Though I wonder how much good it'll."

"Yeah, but that's not for us to decide." Jim said, trying to blow a smoke ring from the cigar. "We just build the thing."

"Jim, and Jim!" They heard the boss's voice over their radios. "Come on up front. We're just finishing up. I want us all there for it."

"Rodger that," they said in unison. Jim flicked his cigarette behind the scrap. Jim kept his cigar in his teeth and the two walked the short way to where the boss was standing.

"We nearly finished Jim?"

"Sure are." The boss said, smiling. He spoke into his radio again. "You have those welds finished Jim?"

They saw the man up on the structure flip up his mask and reach for his radio. His voice crackled down to them. "Just about Jim. Jim has a few more to do on his side, but we'll be down in a second."

Jim smiled. "Excellent," he said into the radio. Jim puffed quietly on his cigar while Jim reached for another cigarette. The three men stood looking up at the massive iron gate.

"How long have we been working on this thing?" Jim asked, lighting up his cigarette.

Jim tapped the radio against his hand. "Ever since the incident. I don't think it's been too long."

The radio crackled again. "All right, that's it for us. Can you have Jim lower the crane?"

"Rodger that." Jim said into the radio. He switched the dials for frequency and spoke into it again. "They're finished, Jim. Lower 'em down."

"Rodger boss," Jim responded. The crane and the platform that Jim and Jim were on started to move and they were quickly on the ground with the rest of them.

"So, does this mean it's finished?" Jim asked, cigarette now between his fingers.

"Sure does, all that work and we're finally done." Jim said, smiling and tucking the radio into a pocket. "I'd like to see her get past that."

Jim and the others were silent for a bit. They admired the structure. It was massive, a wrought iron gate that stretched up high. The fearsome metal teeth on top shined. It was a menacing structure. Jim was smiling, hand still on his radio.

"Boss?" Jim said, blowing some more cigar smoke.

"Yeah, Jim?"

"One question for you."

"Shoot."

"Isn't a gate supposed to have...yeah know, walls on either side?"

Jim was quiet for a moment, fiddling with his radio. "Jim?"

Jim took another puff of his cigar. "Yeah boss?"

"Shut up."

Lemon Yellow Sun

"The sun's so pretty."

"Yes it is."

"How does it stay so bright?"

"Didn't you pay attention in science class?"

"Yeah, but Ms. Croft is boring, and we're studying plants now anyway."

"Plants need the sun. Maybe she just hasn't covered it yet."

"But you know don't you?"

"I know a little, but not enough to really teach you."

"Aww, c'mon, anything!"

"Well... its burning hydrogen, and doing some nuclear reaction to produce heat and light. It can't remember if its fusion or fission."

"What does that mean?"

"It makes energy. Why not look it up on the computer?"

"Cause then I'd have to get up."

"Yeah, that would be a problem. Then you'd have to let me up."

"And you're my prisoner, so I won't do that."

"Indeed I am."

"..."

"..."

"It's so yellow."

"Yup."

"Like those things mom likes. What are they called?"

"Lemon Heads."

"Right, those, we gave her a whole bag of them on her birthday."

"And you ate half of them, didn't you?"

"Mom said I could!"

"Sure she did."

"..."

"..."

"Have I had an actual lemon before?"

"You get it in your water sometimes at restaurants."

"Oh yeah, plain water is boring."

"That's why we get those fizzy ones."

"That taste like fruit!"

"Otherwise you wouldn't drink them."

"I like fruit."

"If only you liked vegetables as much."

"Gross."

"See?"

"Whatever."

"You'll learn."

"..."

"..."

"Dad liked vegetables, I never understood why."

"He liked the way mom cooked them. And he said it kept him regular."

"What does that mean?"

"I'll tell you when your older."

"Meanie."

"It's not nearly as exciting as you might be thinking."

"When did he string up the hammock."

"Before you were born, I think I was like, eight."

"Why did he do it?"

"He wanted a place to read when the sun was out."

"Like today?"

"Yeah."

"Is that why you were out here?"

"Yeah."

"Can I read out here to?"

"Of course."

"Neat."

"..."

"I miss him."

"I do to."

"..."

"..."

"Kids, time for dinner. Come on in and wash up!"

"But the sun's still out."

"Well, if we go in now, when we're done eating, we can watch the sun set."

"Can we build a fire?"

"Sure, I think we have some marshmallows left anyway."

"Okay!"

"Okay."