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rainbowfic2016-08-17 12:44 pm
starphotographs) wrote in rainbowfic2016-08-17 12:44 pm
Meme Party 13, Olympic Gold 12
Name: starphotographs
Story: Corwin and Friends
Supplies and Styles: Graffiti (Lilith Faire August 16th Main Stage, http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/terriclark/nofear.html)
Characters: Piston (POV), Spenser
Colors: Meme party 13 (One Does Not Simply Walk Into Mordor), Olympic Gold 12 (torch)
Word Count: 3,200ish
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Choose not to warn.
Summary: He has something important to show her. But will it even be there?
Note: Eek, glad the cutoff was extended a bit, because I forgot to check the community in time!
What She Unearthed
“You’re takin’ us… Where?”
Spenser threw his head back and started laughing. Can’t really say I was expecting anything else.
“So, what, like, we gotta be goin’ somewhere in particular? And why are you asking?” He faked a gasp. Well, maybe not quite faked. Sometimes, Spenser gets so into doing things for show that he kind of does them for real. It’s absolutely brilliant. “...Piston Joline Gutierrez! What happened to the woman I loved!? The woman who drove us a hundred miles away without realizing it!? The woman who found us that gnarly restaurant with two different restaurants in it!? The woman who made it possible for me to eat a miniature pizza and two bean burritos in one sitting!? Who are you!? I don’t even know you anymore!”
I watched him slump over the steering wheel in mock hysterics. He seemed to be having fun in his little one-man theatre. I almost didn’t want to interrupt him, but it looked like a good time and was starting to feel left out.
“Watch where you’re goin’, jackass. Anyway… She’s wonderin’ why the hell you’re driving so fast if you’re really not going anywhere in particular. Also, you just, like, went off the road five minutes ago.”
He looked around like this was news to him, which was a little disconcerting, but immediately started acting like this was all part of the plan. Or, at least, not not part of the plan. That was kind of how he lived his whole life.
“...Friend, there is no road to where we’re goin’! Where we’re going is dynamic! Almost alive! It’s a place that only exists wherever and whenever the time is right! One of our precious few four-dimensional locations! Behold!”
He took his hands off the wheel to gesture at the horizon. I leaned over and grabbed it in his stead, then tried to make out what the hell he was pointing at. Not so far away, the stars were being swallowed by a fuzzy grey mass that flickered like a dirty, dying lightbulb. We rushed at one another; the clouds an immovable object, Spenser behind the wheel an unstoppable force. Or, so he thought. If the laws of physics pulled back long enough for the thunderheads and us to actually collide, I think I know who would win. But, I didn’t tell him that. Spenser gets into this sort of headspace where he thinks the whole world will either move around him or crumble at his touch. It got him in all kinds of trouble, but it was beautiful, in a poignant way. And it was funny, in a kind of dismal way. I didn’t want to wreck it.
“Gonna go check out the storm, huh?”
He took the wheel again. Then tilted back and started steering with his foot so he could stretch.
“You bet your ass, man! And it’s more than that! There’s… Oh man. It’s a surprise. And it might not work out because it’s always, like, kinda fuckin’ iffy, so don’t get your hopes, like, all the way up, but… Oh man! There’s a surprise. Just trust me.”
He grinned like a madman or a badly-drawn cartoon, which usually meant something really good was about to happen. That face hadn’t steered me wrong once.
“Alright, fuckin’ lunatic who is driving me at, like, needle-burying speeds to an undisclosed location in the middle of the wasteland. I trust you.”
I gave him a little punch on the arm, then stuck my head out the window, followed by my whole upper half. Spenser’s driving had a way of making me feel like I was part of a kickass heist, or running from the government, or smuggling a briefcase full of something magic. All those situations require the wind in your hair. I watched the last of the stars go by, then felt something cold on my face. I ducked back inside.
“...Droplets!”
He reached up to high-five me, realized he couldn’t reach my hand, and patted me on the ass instead. By now, we were almost sickeningly comfortable with each other, so shit like that happened all the time. The other day, I belched right in his face just because he was sitting next to me and I could.
“Fuckin’ A!”
Still grinning that crazy grin, he curled around the steering wheel, floored the gas, and honked the horn about fifteen times. I stuck my head out the window again, and kept it there until the rain started pelting me hard enough to sting. Spenser was still leaning forward, as if that would get him there any faster, so I stuck a lock of my cold, wet hair down the back of his shirt. This made him yelp, the car veering around wildly. I laughed out my nose, and socked him again.
“...Weiner!”
He sat up straight, feigning composure.
“Hey, no skin off my ass. I’m gettin’ out soon anyway, gonna be wetter than I’ve ever been!”
I draped the rest of my hair across his head. In the rearview, it looked like we were hiding under a wad of matted seaweed.
“...So you don’t mind this, then?”
“Not even a bit!”
We sat like that for a while, until Spenser slammed on the brakes, knocking my hair over our faces and completely blinding us. I was glad we weren’t on a road with the other cars. When you’re all the way out here, you can do stupid crud like that and live to tell about it. I pulled away, trying to work out exactly how we were stuck together.
“...Oops.”
I felt him probing around, trying to find where I ended and he began. Eventually, we managed to pull apart. Mostly. My hair took his glasses with it, and we had to rescue them separately. He didn’t even bother to dry them off.
“So, ready to, like, get really fuckin’ drenched?”
“Dumbass! I already am!”
He thought for a second.
“...True. Anyway! We’re, like, barrelin’ through the fourth dimension! Gotta get off before we miss our stop!”
He flung himself out of the car, fell in the mud, and skittered to his feet. I got out of the car in what I think was a pretty normal way, and helped him steady himself. Spenser stopped moving, and leaned down to rest his head on my shoulder. Which is always awkward as fuck. Dude’s about a foot taller than I am. But, some switch inside him had flipped, so he had to. I don’t know what it is I do wrong, or even if it’s actually doing something right, but, sometimes, he just gets like this. We’ll be goofing off, and I’ll touch him in what feels like some casual way, and he’ll freeze in place, pressing into me like he wants to merge. And I like being close to him, but something about it always felt sad. Eventually, he straightened up. I pushed the wet hair out of his face, but it was kind of heavy and fell right back where it was.
“...You okay?”
“Yeah… Yeah, I’m good. So, like, you know the thunder counting trick?”
I nodded.
“I do. My parents taught me.”
(Memories of being six, a smoking grill, a burnt hotdog, a storm heading toward the balcony.)
“Good… Great! Okay!” He pointed at the horizon. “You see a real big one hit the ground, you start countin’, alright?”
This seemed important to him, and I wanted to look him in the eye when I answered, but I couldn’t. His glasses were a wet, sparkling void. I couldn’t guess what he was thinking or know how he felt. Could I ever?
“You got it, chief!”
Him and his universe lenses turned to face me.
“Hey. You’re the chief! You’re doin’ the fuckin’ counting, you’re the fuckin’ chief! ...Please don’t make me be chief. I’d be shitty at it.”
I laughed.
“...Okay.”
We stood there like that for a while. Both of us watching the storm, me wondering what he was actually seeing. I knew it was beautiful. Shit, I ain’t blind. But it meant something extra to him that I don’t think it did to me. I’ve tried to ask him about it, but he always gets flustered and rolls around on the bed saying a bunch of crap that doesn’t make any sense.
(Admittedly, it would probably make perfect sense if he slowed down a little, but that isn’t really his speed.)
(Literally.)
...Honestly, the reason I kept asking was less because I thought I’d eventually get a straight answer, and more because I thought the whole display was fun to watch. I liked that he got so excited. And, come to think of it, I liked that I didn’t really understand him.
The storm raged on, as did whatever the hell was deep inside Spenser’s heart.
And, in the end, I didn’t have to count.
A fat column of light touched down what felt like, in the heat of the moment, just a few yards away. I was scared we’d just fucked ourselves, that we’d get zapped through our feet and keel over right there. But, by the time it got to us, the charge was just enough to make my hair feel like it was standing on end. Spenser didn’t look afraid at all, but I guess he’s been down that road before. If it had gone through me, would I finally see him?
With no time to waste, he grabbed a shovel from the trunk, took my hand, and started running.
“Cross your fuckin’ fingers, because it’s time for the surprise!”
We sloshed along, the ground almost like one huge living thing; splattering wetly and sucking at our boots.
“I can’t wait!”
We ran until we came to a place where the ground was still steaming. I had to stop and catch my breath. Spenser probably did, too, but he didn’t. He ran toward the center of an almost-imperceptible circle, the ground there oddly dry, and started ranting, breathing harshly.
“Okay, like… I’m gonna… Shit, like, need your phone… The flashlight! Turn it on!”
I turned it on. Spenser jumped right back in to rushing around, poking at things with the shovel. I grabbed the back of his shirt.
“Jesus, settle down a sec. You’re gonna hyperventilate.”
He nodded, and then, without warning, sat right down in the dirt.
“...Right. Yeah. Good call.”
Since it seemed like the thing to do, I sat beside him, mud soaking through my pants.
“Christ, you’re a shitshow.”
I put my arm around his shoulders, just to help him steady himself a little.
“Yeah. Yeah. I know.”
And just like that, I’d done it again. His breathing was more even, but he was curled up like a pillbug and leaning against me for support. Whatever he was doing, it seemed like he needed to be doing it, so I let him. Until he pulled himself up with the shovel and launched right back into his little spiel. It was like the whole thing had never happened.
“...Anyway! Just, like, point the flashlight at the ground. You see a weird little hole, you tell me, okay?”
I looked around. No weird little holes yet.
“Sure.”
He was down in the dirt on his hands and knees. I was sweeping my phone around like a floodlight. The rain still felt like waterfalls, and we endured like holy monks. I listened to the thunder and counted the miles. Out of nowhere, Spenser started laughing.
“...You know, I never did this at night before. Pretty fuckin’ great.”
He shone in the cold light of the tiny bulb, wet and glowing blue.
“Oh yeah?”
Still, kneeling, he grabbed the shovel and started prodding the ground.
“Yeah… I mean, like, it’s not like I could dig and shine a phone all around the fuckin’ place at the same time, and, like, shit, I’m fuckin’ blind enough. What I’m saying is, I dunno. Thanks.”
I imagined Spenser before I knew him; looking pretty much the same, alone under a grey sky, crouched in the dirt, the whole big world fanning out around him.
“Sounds pretty hard, yeah.”
He poked the dirt again. I thought I saw a “weird hole.”
“...Pretty hard. I mean, not just that. That was just, like, the only thing I noticed back then.”
I positioned the phone in my left hand, using the right to help him dig.
“The only what you noticed?”
He turned the shovel around in a little circle, like getting a potato eye out with a spoon.
“Just, like, shit that’s hard when you’re alone. Which is, like, all of it, apparently, and you wouldn’t think so, but, I guess, fuck, there we are.”
I swept away some of the newly-loose dirt. Something that looked like a corroded pipe was emerging.
“I mean, like, I should say.”
He looked up at me for a second, then scooped out more dirt.
“...Never stop talking like that. I love the way you talk. But, yeah, anyway. Shit happens. I was really dumb. Got myself in a dumb situation.”
I didn’t care how dumb he was. I loved him. He was alone before me and the rest. Knowing who he was, and how he lived, I hated the thought of Spenser alone. I imagined him pacing the floor, talking to himself or no one, nowhere to go with all the madcap chaos in that glorious brain. I still didn’t know much about what he did with himself in those days. I knew he worked some awful jobs, doing awful things, having awful things done to him. I knew he tried to make a monster of himself and watched the whole mess fall apart at the seams when it wouldn’t hold. He’s covered in scars. He looks blank and confused when people ask him how he is, like they’re tourists asking for directions in a foreign language. I’m learning that neither of us can really make things right.
And now I know he didn’t even know how hard it was to be alone. Can’t even imagine what he must have gotten used to, boiling stupidly like a frog. Crouched in the dirt. The whole world fanning out around him.
“...I’m sorry.”
He pulled on the bumpy pipe.
“Hey, man, don’t be. Ain’t your fault. I mean, if you think about it, it’s, like, the opposite of your fault.”
That said, he yanked the whatever-it-was out of the ground like a carrot, with enough force that there was some left over to knock him back right on his bony ass. When I saw the entire artifact out in the open, I finally recognized it.
“...Ow, biff. Hey, is that a-”
Spenser popped up like a whac-a-mole. Or like a man waking from a bad stress nightmare in a crappy movie.
“...This is the surprise! And if you’re asking if it’s a fulgurite, a, like, lightning glass, that’s exactly what it is! Isn’t that… Shit. Wow!”
He was gesturing around with the thing so much I was scared he was going to break it. I mean, that wouldn’t be the end of the world, but it might feel like it for him, and I was worried he’d cry.
“I’ve never seen one up close before!”
He looked a little distressed by this fact, and held it even closer to my face.
“Look at this! It’s silicate glass forged by a beam from the sky, five times the heat of the sun created in seconds! Think of the sun, smashing itself against itself every second of every day, relentless, throwing off enough radiation to power an entire biosphere for billions of years! Just imagine it, Piston! All the electrons it takes to keep us from falling apart! All those thoughts crackling through that wonderful, wonderful brain of yours! The nerves that tell your hands to move! This entire universe is lit up like fucking Vegas twenty-four-seven and we hardly get to see it for what it really is! Not until you’re here, and now, wherever that is, and oh, god, it’s always somewhere, but I can only be in one place at once and can’t just follow it wherever it goes!”
He was down on his knees and holding my hand, like he was proposing to me, except he was ranting about electromagnetism and the futility of chasing the rain. I think I liked that better. I tried to get his hair out of his face again.
“...You could have taken, like, about twenty more breaths in there, dude. But, yeah, I understand. It’s special.”
Spenser shoved the fulgurite into my hands.
“...Please have this.”
I turned it over, feeling the grit, looking through the tube like a telescope.
“Um, wow. Are you sure?”
He nodded. I thought his head was going to fly off and rocket into the sky, he was that damn excited.
“Like, dead sure.”
The rain was dying down, and the world sounded like it always does after a heavy storm. Like you can suddenly hear every little thing. Mud was squishing under my shoes. Spenser was panting, still recovering from his little speech.
“Hey… I mean, thanks. It’s neat. And I can tell it means a lot.”
I liked holding it. It was as rough and twisted as the deep gouge in his back. Melted by the raw power of the universe. Hardened by cold rain and long minutes. Grey and dirty. Spectacular and rare. Too easy to leave buried for too long.
The sky was clearing, and I didn’t feel much need for my phone light anymore, so I turned it off. Having given me what felt like a piece of himself, Spenser was still sitting in the mud, and, for once, not saying much of anything. Just the two of us and the dark. I sat down next to him, and he fell against me in that weird way of his, trying to soak up what of me he could before I vanished beyond his horizon. I didn’t know how to tell him that I was a renewable resource. I mean, I knew how to tell him, but I didn’t know how to make him believe me. After about ten minutes, he finally stirred. And pointed at the sky, as he’s wont to do.
“Hey look, full moon!”
We sat there, cold and wet and dirty, staring for a good, long time.
And when we decided to pack it in and head home, I told him I’d drive. So he could lie across the seats with his damp head in my lap, dazed into a stupor by the feeling of not-alone.
And I thought, he really is one of a kind.
Lightning-scorched, torn out at the roots, imperfect.
A monument to the best and worst this world can do.
Story: Corwin and Friends
Supplies and Styles: Graffiti (Lilith Faire August 16th Main Stage, http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/terriclark/nofear.html)
Characters: Piston (POV), Spenser
Colors: Meme party 13 (One Does Not Simply Walk Into Mordor), Olympic Gold 12 (torch)
Word Count: 3,200ish
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Choose not to warn.
Summary: He has something important to show her. But will it even be there?
Note: Eek, glad the cutoff was extended a bit, because I forgot to check the community in time!
“You’re takin’ us… Where?”
Spenser threw his head back and started laughing. Can’t really say I was expecting anything else.
“So, what, like, we gotta be goin’ somewhere in particular? And why are you asking?” He faked a gasp. Well, maybe not quite faked. Sometimes, Spenser gets so into doing things for show that he kind of does them for real. It’s absolutely brilliant. “...Piston Joline Gutierrez! What happened to the woman I loved!? The woman who drove us a hundred miles away without realizing it!? The woman who found us that gnarly restaurant with two different restaurants in it!? The woman who made it possible for me to eat a miniature pizza and two bean burritos in one sitting!? Who are you!? I don’t even know you anymore!”
I watched him slump over the steering wheel in mock hysterics. He seemed to be having fun in his little one-man theatre. I almost didn’t want to interrupt him, but it looked like a good time and was starting to feel left out.
“Watch where you’re goin’, jackass. Anyway… She’s wonderin’ why the hell you’re driving so fast if you’re really not going anywhere in particular. Also, you just, like, went off the road five minutes ago.”
He looked around like this was news to him, which was a little disconcerting, but immediately started acting like this was all part of the plan. Or, at least, not not part of the plan. That was kind of how he lived his whole life.
“...Friend, there is no road to where we’re goin’! Where we’re going is dynamic! Almost alive! It’s a place that only exists wherever and whenever the time is right! One of our precious few four-dimensional locations! Behold!”
He took his hands off the wheel to gesture at the horizon. I leaned over and grabbed it in his stead, then tried to make out what the hell he was pointing at. Not so far away, the stars were being swallowed by a fuzzy grey mass that flickered like a dirty, dying lightbulb. We rushed at one another; the clouds an immovable object, Spenser behind the wheel an unstoppable force. Or, so he thought. If the laws of physics pulled back long enough for the thunderheads and us to actually collide, I think I know who would win. But, I didn’t tell him that. Spenser gets into this sort of headspace where he thinks the whole world will either move around him or crumble at his touch. It got him in all kinds of trouble, but it was beautiful, in a poignant way. And it was funny, in a kind of dismal way. I didn’t want to wreck it.
“Gonna go check out the storm, huh?”
He took the wheel again. Then tilted back and started steering with his foot so he could stretch.
“You bet your ass, man! And it’s more than that! There’s… Oh man. It’s a surprise. And it might not work out because it’s always, like, kinda fuckin’ iffy, so don’t get your hopes, like, all the way up, but… Oh man! There’s a surprise. Just trust me.”
He grinned like a madman or a badly-drawn cartoon, which usually meant something really good was about to happen. That face hadn’t steered me wrong once.
“Alright, fuckin’ lunatic who is driving me at, like, needle-burying speeds to an undisclosed location in the middle of the wasteland. I trust you.”
I gave him a little punch on the arm, then stuck my head out the window, followed by my whole upper half. Spenser’s driving had a way of making me feel like I was part of a kickass heist, or running from the government, or smuggling a briefcase full of something magic. All those situations require the wind in your hair. I watched the last of the stars go by, then felt something cold on my face. I ducked back inside.
“...Droplets!”
He reached up to high-five me, realized he couldn’t reach my hand, and patted me on the ass instead. By now, we were almost sickeningly comfortable with each other, so shit like that happened all the time. The other day, I belched right in his face just because he was sitting next to me and I could.
“Fuckin’ A!”
Still grinning that crazy grin, he curled around the steering wheel, floored the gas, and honked the horn about fifteen times. I stuck my head out the window again, and kept it there until the rain started pelting me hard enough to sting. Spenser was still leaning forward, as if that would get him there any faster, so I stuck a lock of my cold, wet hair down the back of his shirt. This made him yelp, the car veering around wildly. I laughed out my nose, and socked him again.
“...Weiner!”
He sat up straight, feigning composure.
“Hey, no skin off my ass. I’m gettin’ out soon anyway, gonna be wetter than I’ve ever been!”
I draped the rest of my hair across his head. In the rearview, it looked like we were hiding under a wad of matted seaweed.
“...So you don’t mind this, then?”
“Not even a bit!”
We sat like that for a while, until Spenser slammed on the brakes, knocking my hair over our faces and completely blinding us. I was glad we weren’t on a road with the other cars. When you’re all the way out here, you can do stupid crud like that and live to tell about it. I pulled away, trying to work out exactly how we were stuck together.
“...Oops.”
I felt him probing around, trying to find where I ended and he began. Eventually, we managed to pull apart. Mostly. My hair took his glasses with it, and we had to rescue them separately. He didn’t even bother to dry them off.
“So, ready to, like, get really fuckin’ drenched?”
“Dumbass! I already am!”
He thought for a second.
“...True. Anyway! We’re, like, barrelin’ through the fourth dimension! Gotta get off before we miss our stop!”
He flung himself out of the car, fell in the mud, and skittered to his feet. I got out of the car in what I think was a pretty normal way, and helped him steady himself. Spenser stopped moving, and leaned down to rest his head on my shoulder. Which is always awkward as fuck. Dude’s about a foot taller than I am. But, some switch inside him had flipped, so he had to. I don’t know what it is I do wrong, or even if it’s actually doing something right, but, sometimes, he just gets like this. We’ll be goofing off, and I’ll touch him in what feels like some casual way, and he’ll freeze in place, pressing into me like he wants to merge. And I like being close to him, but something about it always felt sad. Eventually, he straightened up. I pushed the wet hair out of his face, but it was kind of heavy and fell right back where it was.
“...You okay?”
“Yeah… Yeah, I’m good. So, like, you know the thunder counting trick?”
I nodded.
“I do. My parents taught me.”
(Memories of being six, a smoking grill, a burnt hotdog, a storm heading toward the balcony.)
“Good… Great! Okay!” He pointed at the horizon. “You see a real big one hit the ground, you start countin’, alright?”
This seemed important to him, and I wanted to look him in the eye when I answered, but I couldn’t. His glasses were a wet, sparkling void. I couldn’t guess what he was thinking or know how he felt. Could I ever?
“You got it, chief!”
Him and his universe lenses turned to face me.
“Hey. You’re the chief! You’re doin’ the fuckin’ counting, you’re the fuckin’ chief! ...Please don’t make me be chief. I’d be shitty at it.”
I laughed.
“...Okay.”
We stood there like that for a while. Both of us watching the storm, me wondering what he was actually seeing. I knew it was beautiful. Shit, I ain’t blind. But it meant something extra to him that I don’t think it did to me. I’ve tried to ask him about it, but he always gets flustered and rolls around on the bed saying a bunch of crap that doesn’t make any sense.
(Admittedly, it would probably make perfect sense if he slowed down a little, but that isn’t really his speed.)
(Literally.)
...Honestly, the reason I kept asking was less because I thought I’d eventually get a straight answer, and more because I thought the whole display was fun to watch. I liked that he got so excited. And, come to think of it, I liked that I didn’t really understand him.
The storm raged on, as did whatever the hell was deep inside Spenser’s heart.
And, in the end, I didn’t have to count.
A fat column of light touched down what felt like, in the heat of the moment, just a few yards away. I was scared we’d just fucked ourselves, that we’d get zapped through our feet and keel over right there. But, by the time it got to us, the charge was just enough to make my hair feel like it was standing on end. Spenser didn’t look afraid at all, but I guess he’s been down that road before. If it had gone through me, would I finally see him?
With no time to waste, he grabbed a shovel from the trunk, took my hand, and started running.
“Cross your fuckin’ fingers, because it’s time for the surprise!”
We sloshed along, the ground almost like one huge living thing; splattering wetly and sucking at our boots.
“I can’t wait!”
We ran until we came to a place where the ground was still steaming. I had to stop and catch my breath. Spenser probably did, too, but he didn’t. He ran toward the center of an almost-imperceptible circle, the ground there oddly dry, and started ranting, breathing harshly.
“Okay, like… I’m gonna… Shit, like, need your phone… The flashlight! Turn it on!”
I turned it on. Spenser jumped right back in to rushing around, poking at things with the shovel. I grabbed the back of his shirt.
“Jesus, settle down a sec. You’re gonna hyperventilate.”
He nodded, and then, without warning, sat right down in the dirt.
“...Right. Yeah. Good call.”
Since it seemed like the thing to do, I sat beside him, mud soaking through my pants.
“Christ, you’re a shitshow.”
I put my arm around his shoulders, just to help him steady himself a little.
“Yeah. Yeah. I know.”
And just like that, I’d done it again. His breathing was more even, but he was curled up like a pillbug and leaning against me for support. Whatever he was doing, it seemed like he needed to be doing it, so I let him. Until he pulled himself up with the shovel and launched right back into his little spiel. It was like the whole thing had never happened.
“...Anyway! Just, like, point the flashlight at the ground. You see a weird little hole, you tell me, okay?”
I looked around. No weird little holes yet.
“Sure.”
He was down in the dirt on his hands and knees. I was sweeping my phone around like a floodlight. The rain still felt like waterfalls, and we endured like holy monks. I listened to the thunder and counted the miles. Out of nowhere, Spenser started laughing.
“...You know, I never did this at night before. Pretty fuckin’ great.”
He shone in the cold light of the tiny bulb, wet and glowing blue.
“Oh yeah?”
Still, kneeling, he grabbed the shovel and started prodding the ground.
“Yeah… I mean, like, it’s not like I could dig and shine a phone all around the fuckin’ place at the same time, and, like, shit, I’m fuckin’ blind enough. What I’m saying is, I dunno. Thanks.”
I imagined Spenser before I knew him; looking pretty much the same, alone under a grey sky, crouched in the dirt, the whole big world fanning out around him.
“Sounds pretty hard, yeah.”
He poked the dirt again. I thought I saw a “weird hole.”
“...Pretty hard. I mean, not just that. That was just, like, the only thing I noticed back then.”
I positioned the phone in my left hand, using the right to help him dig.
“The only what you noticed?”
He turned the shovel around in a little circle, like getting a potato eye out with a spoon.
“Just, like, shit that’s hard when you’re alone. Which is, like, all of it, apparently, and you wouldn’t think so, but, I guess, fuck, there we are.”
I swept away some of the newly-loose dirt. Something that looked like a corroded pipe was emerging.
“I mean, like, I should say.”
He looked up at me for a second, then scooped out more dirt.
“...Never stop talking like that. I love the way you talk. But, yeah, anyway. Shit happens. I was really dumb. Got myself in a dumb situation.”
I didn’t care how dumb he was. I loved him. He was alone before me and the rest. Knowing who he was, and how he lived, I hated the thought of Spenser alone. I imagined him pacing the floor, talking to himself or no one, nowhere to go with all the madcap chaos in that glorious brain. I still didn’t know much about what he did with himself in those days. I knew he worked some awful jobs, doing awful things, having awful things done to him. I knew he tried to make a monster of himself and watched the whole mess fall apart at the seams when it wouldn’t hold. He’s covered in scars. He looks blank and confused when people ask him how he is, like they’re tourists asking for directions in a foreign language. I’m learning that neither of us can really make things right.
And now I know he didn’t even know how hard it was to be alone. Can’t even imagine what he must have gotten used to, boiling stupidly like a frog. Crouched in the dirt. The whole world fanning out around him.
“...I’m sorry.”
He pulled on the bumpy pipe.
“Hey, man, don’t be. Ain’t your fault. I mean, if you think about it, it’s, like, the opposite of your fault.”
That said, he yanked the whatever-it-was out of the ground like a carrot, with enough force that there was some left over to knock him back right on his bony ass. When I saw the entire artifact out in the open, I finally recognized it.
“...Ow, biff. Hey, is that a-”
Spenser popped up like a whac-a-mole. Or like a man waking from a bad stress nightmare in a crappy movie.
“...This is the surprise! And if you’re asking if it’s a fulgurite, a, like, lightning glass, that’s exactly what it is! Isn’t that… Shit. Wow!”
He was gesturing around with the thing so much I was scared he was going to break it. I mean, that wouldn’t be the end of the world, but it might feel like it for him, and I was worried he’d cry.
“I’ve never seen one up close before!”
He looked a little distressed by this fact, and held it even closer to my face.
“Look at this! It’s silicate glass forged by a beam from the sky, five times the heat of the sun created in seconds! Think of the sun, smashing itself against itself every second of every day, relentless, throwing off enough radiation to power an entire biosphere for billions of years! Just imagine it, Piston! All the electrons it takes to keep us from falling apart! All those thoughts crackling through that wonderful, wonderful brain of yours! The nerves that tell your hands to move! This entire universe is lit up like fucking Vegas twenty-four-seven and we hardly get to see it for what it really is! Not until you’re here, and now, wherever that is, and oh, god, it’s always somewhere, but I can only be in one place at once and can’t just follow it wherever it goes!”
He was down on his knees and holding my hand, like he was proposing to me, except he was ranting about electromagnetism and the futility of chasing the rain. I think I liked that better. I tried to get his hair out of his face again.
“...You could have taken, like, about twenty more breaths in there, dude. But, yeah, I understand. It’s special.”
Spenser shoved the fulgurite into my hands.
“...Please have this.”
I turned it over, feeling the grit, looking through the tube like a telescope.
“Um, wow. Are you sure?”
He nodded. I thought his head was going to fly off and rocket into the sky, he was that damn excited.
“Like, dead sure.”
The rain was dying down, and the world sounded like it always does after a heavy storm. Like you can suddenly hear every little thing. Mud was squishing under my shoes. Spenser was panting, still recovering from his little speech.
“Hey… I mean, thanks. It’s neat. And I can tell it means a lot.”
I liked holding it. It was as rough and twisted as the deep gouge in his back. Melted by the raw power of the universe. Hardened by cold rain and long minutes. Grey and dirty. Spectacular and rare. Too easy to leave buried for too long.
The sky was clearing, and I didn’t feel much need for my phone light anymore, so I turned it off. Having given me what felt like a piece of himself, Spenser was still sitting in the mud, and, for once, not saying much of anything. Just the two of us and the dark. I sat down next to him, and he fell against me in that weird way of his, trying to soak up what of me he could before I vanished beyond his horizon. I didn’t know how to tell him that I was a renewable resource. I mean, I knew how to tell him, but I didn’t know how to make him believe me. After about ten minutes, he finally stirred. And pointed at the sky, as he’s wont to do.
“Hey look, full moon!”
We sat there, cold and wet and dirty, staring for a good, long time.
And when we decided to pack it in and head home, I told him I’d drive. So he could lie across the seats with his damp head in my lap, dazed into a stupor by the feeling of not-alone.
And I thought, he really is one of a kind.
Lightning-scorched, torn out at the roots, imperfect.
A monument to the best and worst this world can do.
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