Date: Mon, 23 Oct 2006 14:08:18 -0500
From: Luther Boggsley <Dudealias@msn.com>
Subject: The Quantum Mechanic: Part 1

It was not the first time or the last time the two had ever met, but
nevertheless it was a time they had met.  In any case it was one of the
first times they had met, and were it not for the way the universe twists
itself to make coincidences occur then maybe this time they wouldn't have
met each other and things wouldn't have happened like they had.

It was a dark night out with clouds in the sky turning purple from the last
rays of sunlight.  The streets of east-side Tulsa were near-on empty.  It
looked like the perfect night for a zombie invasion.  Passersby in the dark
(mainly school kids out for the holiday weekend) were black sillhouettes
against the endless fields of dead grass and skeletally bare trees

Of course there were street lamps- But their light seemed not to reach
beyond five feet or so from each pole.  And in any case most of them were
in the strip mall parking lot.  It used to be a popular place ages ago, but
now a lot of stores had dwindled away and there was basically a Target next
to two clothing stores and a Toys'R'Us across the street from an even more
dead mall.

Jackson got out of his car and looked around.  It was the kind of night
that stretched itself out and covered everything.  It was the kind that
called out to him to leave the safety of the light and see what had to be
seen.  To go walking and never return.  Live on the street and get money
any way he had to.  It said to him- Come be one with the darkness.  Step
out of your hollow life and into your new one.

But he ignored the urge and stepped into Target, because he'd just got paid
and he was going to buy a Splattergore CD, because he'd just been to a
concert the week before (inadvertently expecting to see Good Charlotte but
making a left turn at Albuquerque, apparently) and was pleasantly surprised
to discover he actually liked them about a million times better.  And if
you leave your life of somewhat well-offness behind then you can't really
listen to CD's at all, and that wasn't entirely what he wanted.  On account
of it really was a keen band.  It'd be a crying shame to just discover
something as cool as Splattergore and then not be able to enjoy it.  He
figured he'd reserve dissappearing from his life once he got tired of the
CD.  If something hadn't, you know, dissuaded him from the notion before
then.

The automatic doors slid open and the cool air conditioning washed over him
like a breeze.  He blinked and covered his eyes with his hands to adjust to
the sudden brightness in the store, which was probably why he avoided
seeing Ben walk straight past him from the clothes section (where he'd just
picked a brand new wallet) and into the music section.

As for why Ben didn't see Jackson was probably the fact that he got an
inadvertently strong pain in his right big toe, which took his attention
and made him juke to the right and make a stop in the girl's section.  He
walked to get here, actually, as he was visiting his Aunt Trudy, and she
lived only a mile or two away.  He was good at walking- He did it a lot,
actually, kind of as a way to get in touch with nature.  But his Aunt had
bought him these goddamned boots, and his big toe was screaming at him like
a mo-fo.  He bent down to loosen his boots and make sure his toe was still
attached, thus effectively hiding himself in the jumpers for four year olds
as Jackson walked past to the music section, his eyes having recovered.

Jackson was a man on a mission- Splattergore or bust.  He briskly turned
left and walked past the clothes and got closer to the music section.  But
then he was distracted, because he saw an aisle of mirrors, and so he
turned left again and stared hard at the fact that his reflection was in
fact not even moving like him at all.  In every single mirror.

This so unnerved him that he blinked and rubbed at his eyes, and then
pulled up a mirror and looked behind it, possibly to check for wire feeds.
So his face was completely hidden when Ben, whose shoe was completely
comfortable now, for some odd reason, walked past to the music section.

Ben toddered around a little, because there wasn't really a CD place in his
hometown.  He walked around and examined all the rock bands, and then the
greatest hits rack, and then he got a little confused because he didn't
remember why he'd come here.  Ben was the kind of person who often got lost
in the middle of a thought because he had so many at one time- Unless you
wrote something down for him he'd think he was going to be doing about
fifteen things at once.

Jackson smiled and waved at the mirrors two aisles over, which just flipped
him off and then reverted to normal.  Frowning to himself and laughing
(half-expecting Ashton Kutcher to pop up from nowhere and Punk him) he
walked over to the music section, convinced it was a prank.

From a security camera's eye view, the two were on opposite sides of one
aisle- Whenever Ben got confused he wandered to the other side of the
aisle, and then Jackson would move to the other side searching for the CD
he was interested in, his mind distracted.

The televisions on the wall flared up with a harmonic dissonance, and the
first few chords of Splattergore's Reaper March blared outwards like an
audial supernova, stunning the shit out of both boys and making them face
the wall.  It was a music video, the cheesy kind that shows the audience,
like at a concert, but both boys felt the magic of the music.

They walked forward to the huge televisions and then looked at each other
And it was like a spark of some kind of weird crazy knowledge, like looking
at a puzzle and seeing one vital clue that you know is going to be
important to working it all out but not knowing how on earth the first
piece of knowledge is supposed to even be approached.

But then, both of them being boys, and at that age where you're well on
your way towards adulthood and thus consequently ignoring anything to
shatter your mental picture of the universe (which often includes ignoring
pesky facts like having memories of having passionate mind-blowing
body-searing sex in a bathroom stall with each other at the concert last
week even though they both knew it hadn't happened) they broke eye contact
and then allowed themselves to be reabsorbed by the music.

And when it was over, and the song was gone, and the magic had retreated,
there was only the awkward pull of wanting to look at each other but
resisting the urge to because obviously they were both boys, and teenage
boys, at that, and it's a well-known fact that teenage boys haven't got a
lick of sense in their heads.

And then they both awkwardly scrabbled for a Splattergore CD from the end
rack, and then they were both nervous as all get out because the heat from
each other's hands brought up the same memory that kind of half-existed in
their heads, and then they both got even more nervous and awkward because,
you know, they were turning red and all that.

So they each grabbed a CD and then avoided each other's eyes and then
walked, heads down, to the checkout line.  Because, really, what else could
you do?  Approach each other and say, 'I think I know you from somewhere,
and I have this fuzzy but clear memory that we had wild wonderful sex last
week at a concert even though I also have a memory of not doing anything?
And even though it was just good sex I see you and my heart speeds up and I
get sad and happy at the same time?'

Of course you couldn't.  You'd sound completely bonkers.  They'd lock you
in Vinita and throw away the key.  Duh.  The only thing to do was ignore
this other boy, they both thought.  And so doing they made to get in
seperate lines.  And they probably would have never seen each other again
(or maybe not, you never know,) were it not for two facts: There was only
one line open, and some preggo's water chose to break at that instant.

Before it happened, though, they shot each other secretive furtive heated
glances while the other wasn't looking, in the same way young shy folks do
everywhere, acting like they were just interested in seeing if there was a
clock or something behind the person they wished to ogle, the favorite
choice of bashful gay teens and nervous girls everywhere.  But then
occasionally they'd make eye contact and whatever, and then they'd bury
their nose back into examining the covers of their CD.  It was quite
ridiculous, really.  Only not to them.  It never is to kids their age.

But then Jennifer McCarthy, age thirty-two, stomach looking like she
swallowed three huge basketballs, said 'Oh dear' and there was a splash
noise and then suddenly Ben's new boots were ruined.  Her husband (funnily
enough named Paul) rushed over from examining an endcap full of on-sale
chips and slipped, slamming the back of his head into the tiled floor and
passing plum out.

"My husband!" Jennifer wailed pathetically.  "And my water!"

"Oh Christ," said the cashier, who was an exceptionally nervous man with
little to no reasoning ability in crisis situations.  "Oh man, oh man.  Are
you okay, dude?"

He poked the man with his finger.  Ben growled to himself at the general
stupidity of human beings in general, then shoved his way through the line.

"I've had some medical training," he said.  "Go the fuck away.  Get a
manager or something."

"But-" said the cashier, which was as far as he could get on account of Ben
twisted his nipple in a violent enough manner to cause him to squeak and
then take off.

"He may have had a concussion," Ben said.  "Has he not opened his eyes
yet?"

"I haven't seen him do anything!" Jennifer wailed.

She wailed a lot.  Earlier in her life she'd won an award for a bit role as
a victim in an episode of ER.  Which was a tad ironic, as to the
circumstances.

"I need to get to the hospital," she said frantically.  "The baby's
coming."

As Jackson was the only other person there he felt it was his duty as a
moral person of sorts to maybe offer his help.  He stepped forward and she
grabbed his hand and almost broke his fingers.

"Fuck!" he gasped.

Ben looked up from checking on Mr. McCarthy's head wound and their eyes
locked.  And then the split-second moment was over, and they both decided
that whatever idiotic notions they had about messed-up memory glands or
whatever would have to wait.

"Do you have a cell phone?" Ben asked.

"Yes," Jackson said.  "But the emergency lines are down for repairs."

"WHAT?" Jennifer screamed.

"It's some kind of honestly stupid administrative thing," Jackson said.  "I
don't know all the details of it.  But once a month the emergency lines are
taken down for about thirty minutes."

"You're joking me," Ben said.

"Well, we can try," Jackson said.

He flipped open his cell and gave the emergency line a ring.

"Busy signal," he said.  He held the phone out for all to hear.

"Fuck me," Ben said.

"I need to get to the hospital RIGHT NOW!" Jennifer screamed.

"Look, lady-" Jackson began, but was cut off by her grabbing his shirt and
dragging him up to her now somewhat foamy mouth.

"I DON'T CARE HOW WE GET THERE BUT YOU ARE TAKING ME TO THE HOSPITAL!"
Jennifer screamed.

"Can we take your car?" Ben asked.

"Are you joking me?" she asked, voice suddenly filled with scorn.  "I don't
have insurance on either of you and my husband's about to go in the
hospital."

"I haven't got a car," Ben said.

Jackson rolled his eyes in despair.

"I do," he said.



The windows were down and the sounds of frantic cries of pain followed them
like a doppler effect as Jackson sped down the highway like a bat out of
hell, muttering angrily to himself.  He looked in the rearview mirror and
met Ben's eyes, then broke the connection when he realized his reflection
was, once again, not matching up with his movements.  It seemed to be
giving him a frantic look, and even though Jackson knew he raised his
eyebrows it didn't move.  Then his attention went back to the road, because
he didn't need to get into a wreck, especially with three- No, four other
people in the car.

"The contractions are getting closer and closer," Jennifer moaned.

Ben rolled his eyes from the back seat.

"Just hold on, I'm sure our friend here will get us there soon."

Ben himself was holding Paul's unconscious form in his lap, elevating his
head.  He wished he could see the look on his own face right now.  It would
probably be the same soured expression on the driver's face.  He hadn't
even called his Aunt, either.

"My parents will never believe me when I tell them about this," Jackson
said.  He shook his head slowly back and forth as he cut off an old lady
going almost eighty.  His face was mysteriously blank.

"I can always call and confirm your story," Ben said, feeling Paul's pulse.
Jackson laughed hollowly.

"Please," he said.  "They'll assume you're one of my many 'coke-head
boyfriends' and that we were actually out all night doing drugs and fucking
like demented rabbits."

He smiled a wry smile that Ben saw in the mirror.  They locked eyes again
Ben unglued his eyes and blushed, then went back to checking on Paul.
Jackson looked down from the mirror and then screeched onto an off-ramp.



In the waiting room, after Jennifer and Paul were taken away, there was no
longer anything to concentrate on except the memories that hadn't happened.
It made the two of them extremely uncomfortable around each other, as,
well, what could you say to someone you'd just met that you hadn't even
known their name yet?

"I'm Jackson," Jackson said.

Well, that was one thing.

"Ben," Ben said.

They shook hands, then looked away from each other.  There was the same
awkward silence again, and then finally Ben decided to take the bull by the
horns.

"Wild night, eh?" he said.

"If you want to classify it as such," Jackson said.  He rubbed his left
hand.  "I think my fingers may never work the same again."

"Thank God I'll never have to go through that," Ben said.

"Through what?" Jackson asked.

It should be noted that at this point neither boy was looking at the other,
but rather at the nearest available object in view.

"Through the whole woman giving birth bit," Ben said, as if it was obvious.

"Why is that?" Jackson asked, voice trembling but trying to remain calm.

"Uh," said Ben, and realized he had, yet again, shoved his foot into his
mouth whilst simultaneously backing himself into a corner.

"I'm sorry?" Jackson asked.

"Uh, it's because I-"

His vocal chords froze.

Jackson nodded at a plant.

"I understand completely," he said.  "I'll never have to go through that
either.  Bar any unfortunate incidents at a Target again."

The words 'because we both wouldn't touch a vagina with a ten-foot pole,
(no pun intended)' flitted through the air unspoken.  There was a
respectful silence, broken by the occasional cry of a child in the
background.

"So," said Jackson after a while.  "I'm already going to be in trouble when
I get home.  You want to go get something to eat before we find out about
our friends in there?  I may as well get hanged for a horse than a pony.
However that goes."

"Uh," said Ben, who wasn't very vocal in his best times, and was dealing
with the problems of that metaphor when introduced to the vivid
not-memories he had.  "Sure.  I guess.  If you're sure."

"Sure I'm sure," said Jackson.

"So we'll go then," said Ben.

They both awkwardly climbed to their feet.



The both of them had a memory of seeing a movie, and also eating at a
McDonald's, but of course neither had actually happened.  It was confusing,
beguiling, and also a little exciting.  Insanity's kind of fun if you
embrace it like a friend.

They both sat and stared at each other in the empty hospital cafeteria over
a couple of peanut candy bars and two cans of fizzy green soda.  Jackson
was eating his slowly, meditatively chewing as he examined Ben's face like
a hawk about to catch an eagle.  Ben was taking occasional sips from his
soda.

"I hear that gives you a low sperm count," Jackson said.

"Yes, well, not much use to me is it?" Ben asked.

Jackson grinned and took a bite off a candy bar with the side of his mouth.

"I'm sorry this isn't a proper date," he said.  "I somehow get the feeling
we've already had one, though."

"Funny," Ben said to his soda.  "Me too."

The heat from Jackson's gaze was an almost tangible force on Ben's cheek.
He couldn't help but blush.

"Like, I have this weird idea that we went to a McDonald's before," Ben
said.

"And then I tried to order an Arch Deluxe-"

"And then there was this little girl who wanted a toy-"

"And so I got a Happy Meal and gave it to her," Jackson finished.

"Something like that," Ben said, which was the understatement of the
century.

"Splattergore," Jackson said.

They both blushed, acutely aroused.

"The thing is," Ben said, "I never went to the concert."

Jackson stared at him appraisingly.

"I never left my seat," he said.

Their eyes locked again.  Heat seemed to pulse outwards and pass between
them, making both of them dizzy, swirling up and around the two of them
like a whirlwind of emotion, an almost tangible presence, singing up and
down their individual bodies like some kind of otherworldly ethereal chorus
of pure emotion.

"I...  am going to be in a lot of trouble if I don't get back to Aunt
Trudy's," said Ben.

Much has been said before on the merits of the teenage boy- Intelligence
isn't very high up there.  Good looks, yes, intense emotions, yes, but
intelligence?

Obviously not.

"I can drive you," Jackson said.

"I'd like that," said Ben.

"Me, too," said Jackson.




The ride back was silent and filled with a kind of quiet, dreadful agony.

"I'll never see you again," said Ben wretchedly.  "Tonight's my last night
at Aunt Trudy's, then it's back to my parent's."

"We never saw each other before tonight," Jackson said in a morose tone.
"Not really."

"Do you remember that we did?" asked Ben.

"Yeah," Jackson said.

"Then we did," Ben said.  "Even if it didn't happen, it did."

And Jackson nodded, because it made sense, even though it didn't.

"This the place?" Jackson asked after a while.

"Yeah," said Ben.

They looked at each other, experiencing and reliving everything that hadn't
happened, unable to speak or make sense of any of their emotions, because
even though it was so simple, it was so complicated.

"Can I kiss you?" Jackson asked.

"Like the devil himself," said Ben, and then both boys nervously laughed,
because it was an often used joke that never had been.

Jackson moved forward, hands cupped around Ben's face, turning his head and
stroking his cheek with his thumbs and almost crying but holding himself
back, meeting the other boy's lips with his and feeling that surge of
warmth and feeling and pure, raw emotion that here was your other half, and
you don't even know him and he's going away.

He pulled away and rested his forehead on Ben's, still stroking his cheek,
tears coming from his eyes from the intense pain and sadness in his heart.

"I'm never going to see you again," said Jackson, sobbing.

"It's okay," said Ben.  His voice was warm and soothing.  "If we're
supposed to meet, we will."  Ben wiped tears from Jackson's eyes, and then
smiled and kissed him on the cheek.

"I'll see you when our paths cross again," he said, and then slipped out of
the car and into the darkness.

Overhead, the moon hung high in the sky, full and round and yellow.

In the car below, Jackson beat his steering wheel with his hands and tore
at his hair and cried, cried his eyes out, for a relationship that never
had been that was his entire reason for existence.

Inside his Aunt Trudy's house, Ben slipped into the guest room and sobbed
his heart out for the pain that came from a nothing that was his
everything.

And nobody cared.