Thursday, September 20, 2012

Moineau Rouge I


Moineau Rouge I

What is the difference between a beginning and an ending?
There sat three people in a dimly lit cafe. Ana, oh she was beautiful. Red lips, pale skin, soft and gentle, but somehow bruised, her voice bespoke years of menthol cigarettes and broken hearts. Antony was her younger brother, a bit protective, but a good enough fellow, tall, slim, dark hair, dark eyes, dark features, you get it right? And there I sat with them. How old was I? What did I look like back then? Who was I?
Its hard to explain the distance I feel to that young man. It was so long ago, yet there we were in Jean's cafe. Jean's hellish little gift to an indifferent world. The wine was good, and the food was artistic. For that matter, the coffee wasn't so bad either. Well since I can't do this feeling attached to that other man, we will call him Mathieu, and he was young. As young as he was foolish, as young as he was idealistic, as young as he was stupid, as young as he was the man I use to be. The man I could have been. The man whose shell sits in this same cafe today. Alone besides Jean, he will live forever my friend. Only a golden bullet can kill him.
What were we doing that day? Ana was talking, beautiful red lips mouthing the words, "Jean, I know you said, no smoking, but for your favorite employee, you'll make an exception right?" Calling back from the kitchen Jean yelled, "Non!" Of course, Ana, being Ana lit one up anyway and poured herself some more wine. Antony gazed at her glass, "Don't you think you have had enough?" Mat smiled, "C'mon, don't be such a drag, we work better drunk." Calling from the back, Jean yelled, "No you don't, you only think you do."
They all laughed. I wish I knew how to laugh like that.
As the night rolled on and people came and went from that immutable cafe, that sublime object in the distance, that blurry past that this bloodied face, and these tear stained eyes. Well, sometimes if I squint hard enough, sometimes I can almost see back then, I can almost grasp happiness.
Now we were out on the street, Jean had locked up, and finished another bottle with us before falling asleep with his wife Marie. Ah, Marie, Blonde hair, blue eyes, Innocent. Everything about her said "kindness", everything about her said, "I'm from a world less fucked up than all this" and it said "I saved him". Jean would be nothing more than a sad miserable man without her. He wouldn't have the strength to go on.
He told me that he had tried to take his own life a few times in college. He felt so alone. He quoted Chateaubriand to me,  "The greatest souls must, by necessity feel the greatest sadness." Jean was a good man, and one day little Marie fixed him up nicely. They fell in love in some gods forsaken place, some damn idealistic crusade Jean had began out of a feeling of atonement, and a genuine conviction to right the wrongs of his youth.
I'm no great soul, but I have had my share of sorrows. They cascade along my memories, little explosions of red coloring a dark and empty corridor. A corridor that goes on forever. We pass doors, each one locked, each memory one I beg, no, I plead, will never have to be relived, but life isn't a forward motion. No, it is a series of backs, and forwards, we march on, and we fall back.  Today is yesterday. Is tomorrow, is back then, is never.
Jean and Marie were the closest thing to happiness I know. However god luck telling Mat this little bit of information. Especially not that night, not that brick road, those cobble stone sidewalks, that cool ocean air, and youth, hell, we all love youth.
Ana laughed, a desperate laugh, "So what is the plan for tonight?" Mat, looking over at Antony said, "We need to get this fucker laid!" Antony smiled, "Actually, my dear friends, we are meeting up with a very nice girl." Mat smiled, "And what do you think a girl like that would want with you? She'll be instantly drawn in by my charm, but you can have her when I'm done." Antony glared at Mat, "Oh, well I don't think my sister would like that very much." Mat looked back at Ana, "Well she wouldn't mind if the girl was prettier than her." A right hook from Ana, into his face, knocked Mat into a brick wall. Then she kissed him and continued walking with her brother while the dazed Mat leaned against the wall. He ran to catch up. "As I was saying we need to get Antony laid." They all smiled as they crossed the busy street.
Damn was I stupid back then, what an ego I had, but it was all talk, and when I remarked " she wouldn't mind if the girl was prettier than her", well to me, no one could be as beautiful as Ana. She was the last word on my lips every night. Her warm body was what kept me here for so many years, and now my cold bed speaks of the seven gentle tragedies that left me and Jean here. Alone, and quite drunk actually.
We picked up Molly, she was dumb and pretty, Antony really knew how to pick them. Matt led the quartet to an underground music show they had planned on seeing. The place was packed full of all the best losers and freaks, the kind of people who excel at this sort of jumping and thrashing. Ana and Mat sat at the bar, while Antony and Molly were down in the worst of it. "A gin and tonic" Ana said, and I had a ..... Matt ordered some whisky. He sipped his drink as Ana flirted with the man beside her. A little harmless revenge for Matt's comment. However, as the man put his arm on her leg, Mat got up and headed towards the pit. In the midst of it, he felt a girl tugging on his arm, Ana purchased his forgiveness with a kiss, and the two of them caught up with Antony.
After the show, the people spilled out on the streets, still laughing, and drinking. It was all quite marvelous. Those days always were. These days are hardly decent, yet here me and Jean sit, in this little cafe, waiting in constant readiness, and a constant drunkenness, waiting for the marvelous to return. Pleading with all the gods we don't believe in, and all humanity, that we have lost all faith in, pleading that someday the fates will color our lives with something wonderful again, we will take anything, but more death and pain.
But the wine is running low, and we both need sleep desperately. Good Night.

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