No Poem Is the Only Poem. No Story Is the Only Story.
Jongdae didn’t cry when his mom died. He didn’t cry during the entire funeral, no matter what anyone might think of him for it, and he doesn’t cry when he gets home after the third and final day. He goes to his room and loosens the tie on his neck, pulling it off and tossing it aside. It bothers him that he can’t remember if his mom or father bought it for him.
Mira was named for a binary sun and she was binary, in more ways than one.
*
Though I was considerably older than her 31 years, I had always wondered if Alexandra was attracted to me. When she asked to meet me privately, at a quiet coffee shop, I knew the answer. True, she was also to meet the other members of the creative writing group on an individual basis, eight of us, in all. But as for my session, I believed there was an ulterior motive, a motive beyond her assisting me in my pursuit of becoming a passable fiction writer.
Audio churned through my headphones like static in a washing machine. An ever-increasing banshee wail of unidentifiable nonsense, my hearing faced a sonic assault. I tapped one earpiece, then the other; an electronic scream for me to stop.
The place is a strip joint now. My father calls it his gentleman’s club. He insists it’s a clean, well-lighted establishment run by topnotch professionals. He makes regular use of the weekday All-you-can-eat buffet. He says he likes to sit stage-side, “up close and personal” and chow down while pretty women dance just out of reach. When I asked about the food, he said, “Out of this world. You’ll see. I’ll take you there on your birthday,” Which is rich. You’ll see how rich that statement is. Just give me a minute.
I have three degrees. I work for $10 an hour. I’ve had no raise for two years. I’m supposed to say I feel lucky to have a job in this economy.
When Darby Doppler saw that his favorite comedian had a new vehicle premiering in the fall, he knew he would be writing a fan letter. He’d watched the old Grady Myers show from the second season, before it really got popular, and he felt a connection. But this new lineup seemed so far off Darby wanted to quit living his days. The last Grady Myers show had such a good run. Nine Seasons! And that loveable old show gave him a feeling of nostalgia that he wished he better shared with his wife, since he was a fan before he knew her. They watched reruns together, because she knew how he loved it, and she would always agree when he commented, “This show is so well written.” So the new Grady Myers show was too much to hope for. When he saw the preview, it was one of the moments in his life that seemed unreal. Like the time when he was a boy, outside during the eclipse that no one had told him about. And the neighbor came over and told him to play inside. “Go on now,” he said. “You go play inside.” Darby had never known darkness in the middle of the day. Or for the blinding sun to beckon so convincingly. So it was like that, only he knew it was coming now. He knew the date and time to watch, the network made sure of that.