Date: Mon, 11 Dec 2000 13:10:04 -0700
From: Michael J Daly <MYKSTER@prodigy.net>
Subject: Epiphany-01

EPIPHANY

Disclaimer:
Yeah, like you read these things.
< 18, I won't ask, you won't tell.  I would tell
you to leave, but you won't listen
*N Sync, I don't know nothin' 'bout em or their
sexuality.  Fiction, people!  FIC.  TION.
Chapter Titles are taken from lyrics from Jonathan
Larson's Rent
Not just a sex show!  I'm one for true romance -
looking for a quickie?  Look
elsewhere.



email me at mykster@prodigy.net


Visit me!  http://mykster.homestead.com



One: Goodbye, Love

            "Hey there!  Looking for someone?  You
look kind of lost.  Ha.  Yeah, I noticed that;
you passed by, like five times already.  Well, who
are you looking for?  No, sorry, I don't
know her.  Maybe she's not here yet - people
usually find each other right away here, so
don't start panicking.  I'm waiting for someone
too, you know.  Sit down, get
comfortable.  I'll tell you about him.

            "Well, it's kind of a funny story.
Hmmm?  What was that?  Oh, his name.  James.  His
name is James.  We met about 35 years ago.  2001.
Well technically it was still 2000 but
we had our first coherent conversation in 2001.
Well, I'm confusing you, aren't I?  Sorry,
I just get all giddy when I talk about him.
Anyway, where should I start?  The beginning?
Or how about a little before the beginning?  You
see, it was the first New Year's Eve of
the new millennium.  My boyfriend and I went to
the Plaza to celebrate our two-year
anniversary.  That's where we met and it became a
tradition to celebrate the coming New
Year, watching the fireworks show from the hotel
as we made out.  I was in bliss that day,
I remember.  The book I was writing was halfway
finished and everything in life for me at
that moment was great.  I was in a state of bliss.
And just like a man, my boyfriend
decided to pop my little bubble and send me
crashing to reality.

* * * * * * * * *

            "So, I guess that's it, huh?"  I
looked up at Deny with tears in my eyes.  'NO!'  I
screamed internally.  'You will NOT let him see
you cry!'  The tears didn't fall, barely.  I
just stood there, standing in the middle of the
hotel room, staring at the person I was
completely in love with.  I stood there as he
broke my heart.  As I studied him, I realized
that I didn't have to worry about him seeing me
cry.  Right now he seemed more
interested studying the intricate design patterns
of the bed covers.  And he didn't seem to
want to answer my question.  Damn him.  I thought,
no, I KNEW he was different.  I hate
being wrong so many times.

            Tearing my gaze away from him, I
looked out at the night sky.  The fireworks show
would be starting in a couple of hours.  We didn't
get a good room this year.  Third floor.
I should have taken that as a sign of things to
come.  'What a way to spend an
anniversary' I thought bitterly.  Thinking about
the date, I began to tear up again.  'Say
something, Travis; say anything.'  Clearing my
throat, hoping my voice didn't betray me, I
spoke up.  "Well as always, Deny, you have perfect
timing.  I mean, if you waited five
hours, we would've had someone to kiss at
midnight." After saying that, I realized
something.  My voice caught and I whispered "Well,
at least I won't have anyone to kiss."
I heard him sigh and he turned his head.  I was
right.  I sank to the ground, unable to
breathe.  I left reality again, twice in one day,
but this was far from the earlier bliss.  I don't
know how long I sat there; Deny's voice broke my
trance.

            "I guess I'll be going now."  No
answer.  "I'm leaving my stuff - I'll be by
tomorrow to
pick it up."  No answer.  "Good bye, Travis."  I
finally looked up as I heard the door
close.  My tears, having no reason to be held back
now, fell freely.  Curling up into the
fetal position, I cried myself to sleep.



            An incredible pain in my eyes woke me
up.  I sat up groggily and noticed my right eye
couldn't open.  Peering at the room with my left,
I realized that everything was a blur.
"Shit."  Crying yourself to sleep while wearing
your contacts was not intelligent, Travis.
The left must have washed out as I slept, and the
right glued my eye shut.  Wearily, I got
up and headed for the bathroom.  After about five
minutes of drowning my face in saline, I
finally got the lens out.  Throwing the useless
thing in the toilet, I reached for my glasses
and gazed at myself.  Blood shot eyes, whether
from the crying or the lens, I didn't know.
Probably both.  Running rose with dried up phlegm
filling the divot between my nose and
mouth.  The right side of my face red and dimpled
from lying on the carpeted floor.
Sighing wearily, I got in the shower to clean up.

            As the hot water ran down my body, I
began to feel better.  Yeah, I still hurt; I mean
it
was only an hour since I was dumped, but wasn't
feeling so bad.  The shower massaged
the tense muscles in my back and I let out a sigh.
If Deny wanted to run away from this
then that was his problem.  Looking down at my
body, I couldn't see what the problem
was.  5'11", 150lbs., swimmers' build.  Blond
hair, steely gray eyes.  Very little body hair.
I looked good, God damn it!  So what was the
problem?  Why couldn't I find a lasting
relationship?  Was it my attitude?  I did tend to
brood on things, obsessed on insignificant
matters.  What did Deny call me?  Motherly.  And I
just laughed when he said it.  Well, I
wasn't going to brood on this tonight.  Looking at
my watch, I realized it was only 8:30.
Plenty of time to go out, have fun.  Rachel.  She
was at Times Square.  Plenty of time to
find her and celebrate the New Year.  I quickly
got out of the shower and started to get
dressed.



            'Seven . . . Eight . . . Nine . . .
why is the elevator going up?'  Add unable to
think
clearly when I'm in a hurry to my list of faults.
It was almost nine by the time I got ready.
I ran to the elevators, and waited an unusually
long time for it to stop.  When it did, it was
filled with room service carts and hotel staff.
They looked at me apologetically.  "Sorry,
sir, the service elevator is being fixed."

            I sighed.  "That's alright.  I'll
catch the next one."  What a year-end it is.
First I break up, then decide to go to Times
Square, something I swore I would never do, and
now
elevator problems.  Just as I was heading for the
stairs, the elevator doors opened.  I ran
in without looking and hit the button for the
lobby.  The doors closed and I soon realized I
was heading up.  Damn it all.  Why did the hotel
staff have to go on strike now!  Looking
up when I hear the elevator ding, I realized we
reached the eighteenth floor.  Penthouse
level.  Some stuck up philanthropist will get on
who will look down on me in disdain.  So
what else is new?  The doors slide open and I
looked up.  A young man, my height, bleach
blond, spiky hair in a Hugo Boss suit stood there
holding a brown paper bag.  Green eyes.
Deep emerald pools looked at me in confusion.
'OK, Travis, you just broke up with your
boyfriend, you're not ready to commit, and you
don't believe in empty sex so STOP
DROOLING!!!'  With my inner voice screaming at me,
I awoke from the trace and
smiled sheepishly at the man, still waiting
outside the elevator, with an apprehensive look
on his face.  He glanced at his watch, swore
silently and stepped in.  The elevator started
moving down, finally, with him on one side and me
on the other.  The silence was
unnerving, and I couldn't wait for this ride to be
over.  Alas, somewhere between the tenth
and ninth floors, we stopped.  The lights went out
and came back on, flickering.  Damn
elevators.  And this was a four star hotel!  Oh
well, I didn't care about Times Square,
anyway.  Rachel wasn't expecting me, so I wouldn't
be missed.  Too bad I couldn't say
the same for my new friend.

            He started to hit all the buttons, to
no avail.  Looking at me, he spoke hesitantly, his
deep voice astonishing me.  I would never have
thought his voice was so deep.  "I heard
somewhere that if we jump, the elevator will think
there's no one here and it will move
down."  I started to laugh.  He looked at me,
shocked I would laugh at him.  "What?"

            Still chuckling to myself, I asked him
"Let me guess, 'You've Got Mail,' right?"  He
slowly nodded his head.  "Well, did it work in the
movie?"

            He stood there speechless for a
second, a confused look on his face.  Then, I
guess
because it was in an uncomfortable situation and
because I embarrassed the hell out of
him, he snapped at me.  "Well, at least I'm making
suggestions!  Why don't you come up
with something!"

            I looked at the man calmly.  So
immature.  Sighing, I looked at him and spoke,
"there's
nothing we can do.  We'll just have to call the
front desk, let them know our situation, and
wait for them to get us out."  After saying this,
I proceeded to call the front desk.  At least
the emergency phone was working.  My friend,
however, sank to the floor, head in his
hands.  I hung up with the desk and offered my
hand to him.  He looked at it like it was a
bomb.  Pretending not to notice his reaction to
me, a said "Hi, I'm Travis Cook."  No
reply.  "And you are . . .?" I prompted.

            I was not expecting his scornful
reaction and the flash of anger in his eyes.
"Like you
don't know.  I bet you're loving every minute of
this, aren't you?"

            Taking a step back, I looked at him,
startled.  "Excuse me?  Why would I want to
spend New Year's Eve with a spoiled little brat
like you?  And why the hell should I know
who you are!  God what a fucking little arrogant
prick!"  I stormed back to my side of the
elevator, sat on the floor and scowled.  My famous
death look.  When I get mad, I usually
don't yell, but I have a look that terrified
everyone in its gaze.  And right now, I had my
sights set on the blond, who looked extremely
nervous.  Before he could say anything, a
phone started ringing.  Reaching into his coat
pocket, he grabbed his cell phone.

            "Hello?. . .Justin, hi. . .well,
you'll never guess it but I'm still at the hotel."
He pulled the phone away from his ear and a person
screaming on the other line could be heard.
"Justin, Justin, JUSTIN!  I'm stuck in the fucking
elevator, alright?. . .No, I don't know when
they'll be letting us out. . .What do you want me
to do?  Use my special powers and
teleport there?. . .God, Justin, you are such a
baby!  I'll be there if the elevator starts to
move again.  If not, then oh well!"  He shut the
phone off and reached for the bag.
Bringing out a bottle of tequila, he took a gulp
and looked at me.  I sat there, glaring at
him.

            I could barely hear him when he spoke.
"You really don't know who I am, do you?"  I
gave him another irritated look.  Can one man be
so dense and conceited?  The company
I find myself in.  "OK, stupid question.  Sorry."
He took another drink from the bottle and
started to talk again.  "I just thought that you
knew who I was. . .I mean, you were going
up to my floor and the look you gave me at first.
. .but never mind."  He extended his
hand.  "James.  I'm James.  Nice to meet you,
Travis."  I looked skeptically at his hand,
but grabbed it anyway.  Offering me a drink, which
I declined, he spoke up again.  "So,
why were you in the elevator?"

            "I was in a rush and didn't notice
which direction the arrow was pointing.  I was
running
late, and I wanted to get to Times Square, but I
guess that's a mute point, now, right?"  I
looked up and noticed him smiling.  Such a great
smile, even though it's alcohol induced.
Half the bottle was gone.

            "So, you were going to the MTV party,
too?" he asked.

            "No, just Times Square.  Is that where
you were going - the MTV party?"



            And so our conversation continued.  As
the night wore on, we chatted, talking about
random less nothings about our past.  I found out
he was from Florida and he realized I
lived in the city, just taking a vacation from
reality.  And James continued to get drunk.  By
the time he passed out, he drank three-quarters of
the bottle.  I smiled to myself.  Once
you got pass the hostile outer shell, James was a
pretty decent guy.  A guy who was dead
to the world and in a alcoholic state of limbo.

            About an hour after James passed out,
the elevator started to move again.  Down.  I hit
the three and it stopped at my floor.  I don't
know, there was something inside me saying it
was wrong for me to leave him lying on the floor
of the elevator.  I picked him up and took
him to my room.  Opening the door with a little
difficultly, I stumbled into the hotel room
and dropped James onto the couch.  Giving him the
comforter, I got ready for bed.
slipping into the bed, I glanced at my watch.
2:05a.m.  Sighing to myself, I took my
glasses off and started to drift into oblivion.
The last thought coming to my mind was why
James thought I knew him.



Coming soon:

Two: When All The Scars Of The Nevers And Maybes
Die