Bush43
Issue #15
"A Film Script Ending"
by Jericho Vilar

Jeffery Carter sat on the edge of the sidewalk slowly catching his breath. Eight minutes ago, his day ended in the usual calm manner when a well place right cross collided with a would be mugger's square jaw in a dark alleyway a few miles up the street. The blow, a fitting finale to the sloppy, uncoordinated skirmish between dumpsters, came as quite a relief to Jeffery. Being a man in an otherwise unconventional trade, such encounters, if not handled efficiently, should have at least ended with some kung fu film flair. He was willing to accept the fact that his opponent, a sixteen-year-old junkie from the Paper District, did land two good punches to his abdomen. He was also willing to accept the fact that the kid did hold the upper hand during most of the ordeal, but in the end his knockout blow made it all worthwhile. As he spat a stream of lightly crimson saliva into the nearby gutter, Jeffery anxiously replayed the last few moments of the battle. He remembered the wind hit his face when he narrowly dodged a vicious left cross. He pictured his eyes get as big as saucers when he recognized the opening he had on the kid's dirt encrusted temple. He remembered his right hand knot into a fist and the anticipation that came when his back turned to gather the necessary momentum. The stray thought of his mask being too tight quickly disrupted his stream of consciousness but was abandoned when the blow was unleashed. He saw his arm become a blur, the slap of bone to flesh, a grunt, and his opponent's lanky frame twisting before hitting the concrete.

Jeffery sighed and massaged his throbbing knuckles. The artistic quality of it was too overwhelming for him to comprehend. There were only a handful of special human beings lucky enough to share that experience. The blow had resulted in such an exaggerated response that it was on the verge of being cartoony. With his lungs finally recovered from the sudden loss of oxygen, Jeffery leaned back on the sidewalk and gladly let the autumn night wash over him.

The city was dreaming. A canvas of stars and satellites twinkled behind a modern cityscape. The bare minimum of pedestrians dotted the streets, moving in a small town pace around him. Jeffery, in a fit of selfishness, decided to call it a night and simply take a walk. His muscles groaned when he got up and brushed the dust from his tattered jeans. With his mask and the remnants of his other life tucked deep within his messenger bag, he zipped up his vintage Addidas jacket and started down the street. A couple of blocks into his constitutional, Jeffery began to notice a change in scenery. Dark shadows and single street light noir became soft lighting from storefronts and trees draped in little white Christmas lights. The transition had been drastic when he first felt his way through the city, then it became normal and somewhat comforting. Knowledge of the city's different moods, their ins and outs, soon became second nature to Jeffery and he also liked to think that it went the other way too.

The scents of gourmet coffee and pastries attacked Jeffery's sense and each step he took introduced another element into the atmosphere. Curries from the Indian restaurant, menthol cigarettes, and the faint tang of marijuana mixed in with the invisible particles of oxygen that hung in the crisp, cold air. The stench of urine and despair had already left him in the Paper District. Jeffery's march slowed down a bit when open-air cafes filled with hip young twenty somethings met him on the street. The presence of cars and other automobiles became extinct as the sidewalks widened and the streets narrowed. He was forced one foot onto the smooth pavement when a loud pub-crawl leaked from a bar and into the night. Girls with scarves and belly shirts smiled at him while guys in tight jeans and faux hawks shouted beer dipped remarks behind them. Although having been in it no longer than five minutes, Jeffery proclaimed to himself that this was the perfect place for him to be and the perfect time for him to be there.

"Ah, the Arts District," Jeffery exhaled.

The Arts District was a college town hidden somewhere in the bowels of the city. One would have had to make a special effort to be there. Built on rock clubs and coffee houses, it quickly became the place for the disillusioned youth to find acceptance. Dancing between cell phone operas, Jeffery side stepped conversations about avant-garde films and sociology homework and found himself standing in front of the Golden Age Theatre staring up at the bright marquee.

"Badlands," he read to himself. "Starring Martin Sheen and Sissy Spacek."

Not the usual Hollywood tripe, Jeffery thought. An oldie but a goodie. He discreetly searched his pockets for his wallet, but was suddenly bumped on the shoulder from behind.

"Excuse me," somewhere someone whispered. The voice turned to air and vanished when followed by the accompaniment of a loud clacking sound on a ground near his feet.

"No....uh....problem," Jeffery stuttered. An unknown figure ran past him and into the theatre. Disgusted at his slow reflexes, Jeffery's gaze panned from the closing door to the object right on the tip of his sneaker. After looking in both directions in the event of someone accusing him of nefarious wrong doing, Jeffery scooped up the gray object below him with one swipe.

A cell phone.

Someone's cell phone.

Someone's accidentally dropped cell phone.

His mind raced and his eyes fluttered. Jeffery's little Good Samaritan mechanism automatically activated itself. Above him, the marquee continued to sparkle. In front of him, the theatre doors remained closed. A smirk curled on his lips. He reminded himself that was indeed a man in an otherwise unconventional trade.

"Guess I'm going to the movies," he told himself right before he ran into the theatre to purchase himself a ticket.

***

The movie was almost over. Jeffery maneuvered through the darkness aided only by the sliver of light that shone through the entrance's meager opening. The sound of sneakers on gravel echoed all around him as Martin Sheen stood defiantly on the screen awaiting his incarceration. Martin Sheen, who played the part of Kit, oddly reminded him of a young James Dean. The slouched, nonchalant posture, the strategically mussed up hair, the smoldering eyes. It was an image that the hipsters of today could have only dreamt of achieving. Jeffery chuckled at the thought of him during his rebel without a cause phase back in high school. His homemade don't fuck with me stare was more entertaining than it was intimidating.

The theatre looked to be empty. Finding the owner of the lost cell phone shouldn't pose too much of a challenge, he though to himself as he stubbed his toe on the corner of one of the seats. After shaking off the quick searing pain on his foot, Jeffery shuffled his way to the middle of one of the back rows. He remained standing and placed a hand over his squinting eyes hoping to discover some sort of x-ray vision that he didn't know he possessed. On the screen, the cuffs were slapped on Kit. The faint silhouette of a person's head emerged from the front row. Thar she blows, Jeffery assured himself, not knowing fully if the she was indeed a she. Figuring his luck, she may end up being a he. With target firmly in his sights, Jeffery made himself comfortable on an extremely plush seat and waited until the movie ended before making his grand entrance.

After too much time wasted squirming and shifting in his seat, Jeffery finally settled on a spot, leaned back, crossed his legs, and watched Kit being carted off in the back of a police cruiser.

In his mind, he one day hoped to be so incomparably cool.

***

The credits rolled. The projector snapped and whined marking the end of the reel. A young, freckle faced usher tapped Jeffery on the shoulder.

"Sir? Sir?"

Jeffery's eyes opened slowly, shaking the sleep from his vision.

"Huh?"

The freckle faced usher spoke in a monotone and very defeated manner. "The movie's over, sir. I have to clean up."

Jeffery groaned and pushed himself up with weary limbs. How long was I out, he wondered.

"Oh yeah. Sorry."

The usher's nametag read Francis. Francis was all of seventeen years old, red hair, and freckles.

"There's someone waiting for you out front."

"Yeah? Who?" asked Jeffery as he stepped over Francis' plastic broom.

"Some chick. Said you had something of hers," replied Francis. His face betrayed the sad fact that he was overworked and underpaid.

Jeffery nodded thanks and felt the cell phone bulging in his pocket.

"How tired was I, huh?" he quipped as he ran out the auditorium.

Left alone with the screen winding down and the lights coming up, Francis sighed and began to see crushed popcorn buckets and ripped soda cups all over his carpeted floor.

"Not as tired as I am, sir."

***

She waited outside smoking a cigarette. Even through the frost on the theatre's glass doors, Jeffery knew that it was definitely his lucky day. She stood with her feet a few inches apart showing the curves of her hips and lower torso. She wore a dark blue pea coat with a tight black shirt underneath. The bottom of the coat flapped in the breeze and gave Jeffery a momentary glimpse of her stomach and jeans with studded belt. Long black hair dangled as far as her shoulder blades. They shone under the marquee lights. The image sharpened as he got closer to the doors revealing black thick-rimmed glasses, a graceful gentle nose, high cheekbones, and a half smoked cigarette that hung on pouty lips. Just as Jeffery reached for the gold door handles, he realized how clammy and moist they were. He took stock of his memory banks trying to figure out the last time a woman made him this nervous. Victoria maybe? Her hazel eyes fixed on Jeffery. A smile formed on her lips. No time for that now, he whispered to himself. You're on. Then he opened the door.

"Hi there," she greeted him, puffs of smoke gushed from her lips when she spoke.

"Hi," Jeffery answered with a glimmer in his eye.

"I think you slept through the whole thing."

Her voice was warm and sweet, the consistency of honey. Her passing comment from earlier didn't nearly illustrate that fact as it did just then. The clammy sensation in his hands intensified with each passing second.

"Yeah, I guess I did," he choked out. The door behind him locked with an audible click. The thought of being stranded on an island appeared in his mind.

"It's a shame really," she said and turned her body to face him. "Its such a great movie."

Jeffery nodded in agreement and awkwardly ran a hand through his hair.

"Yeah. Really."

Her height came out to about his eye line. Even behind glasses, her eyes bore right through him. Her shirt read, "Support your local poet" in small white letters. Jeffery feared the loss of all bodily functions to be imminent.

"Sissy Spacek was so great in it. Probably her best role since Carrie."

Her head leaned to one side when she took a drag from her cigarette. The filter was stained with her lipstick.

"Seriously," Jeffery answered. He hoped for something witty or urbane or at least intelligent to come out, but it never did.

"Aren't you the man of few words?" she chuckled after dropping her cigarette on the ground. It was crushed underneath her baby blue Chuck Taylors. 'You're more of the strong and silent type aren't you?"

Jeffery laughed through his nose.

"Well, no...and yes."

She raised an eyebrow in his direction.

"Kinda both?" she offered.

"Yeah, kinda both," he answered blushing like a schoolboy. In his mind, he pictured himself with a donkey's head.

She shifted her stance and put both hands on her hips. In terms of body language, it exuded confidence without the trapping of being considered arrogance. She began tapping her foot and faked a stern look that reminded Jeffery of Mrs. Cleaver when she was lecturing the Beav.

"So that makes you a man of action, right?" She wasn't able to hold the look of fake anger in her face. She was already smiling even before the words came out. Jeffery felt the heat from his face turning red.

"I don't know. Am I? Do I come off like it?"

Her line of questioning going nowhere, she gasped in giddy exasperation and gave Jeffery a soft push on the shoulder. Jeffery's stomach proceeded to performing back flips.

"You're such an ass," she exclaimed.

Jeffery rubbed his shoulder. His previous engagement had surprisingly reared its ugly head again. One more of those and he would've been officially beaten up by a girl.

Again.

"So you have something for me?" she asked placing her hands back on her hips.

"Oh shit, yeah," replied Jeffery having suddenly remembered his mission. Shaking hands rummaged through his seemingly bottomless pockets.

"I should have it right..."

Inside, his frantic fingers met unseen objects; keys, wallet, ticket stub, change, and finally cell phone.

"...here!"

Jeffery kicked himself for saying that too loud or, worse yet, too eager. She clapped her hands as her cell phone appeared from Jeffery's pants pocket. The underlying connotation was not lost on Jeffery, but deep down he knew that it was more like wishful thinking.

"You're a lifesaver," she shouted. Jeffery marveled at the fact that she didn't care how loud she said it. Her ring-encrusted fingers snatched the cell phone from his grasp.

"Sure," he stuttered. "No problem."

After giving her phone a quick once over, she stuck out her tongue and begun backing away from the theatre and from Jeffery.

"Couldn't live without this fucking thing."

Frozen in his tracks, Jeffery watched as she grew further and further away from him. He screamed for his legs to move but all he got was a busy signal.

"Yeah.....uh....I know the feeling," he croaked. His voice slowly faded to a whisper.

"Well?" she shouted as she stopped mid stride. To Jeffery, the gulf between them was almost infinite.

The looks of fake exasperation reappeared on her face. They stood silent for a moment. Tired of the suspense and Jeffery's lack of initiative, she waved both arms and beckoned him to come over.

"Are you coming or what?"

Jeffery's sanity fell like a house of cards. Super villains have nothing on this girl, he thought and with that his legs began to move. First to a slow walk and then, mercifully, to a jog. Her smile once again greeted him when he reached her. Jeffery couldn't help not looking like a deer caught in headlights. Her eyes said she was amused at Jeffery's naiveté. Wrapping her arm around his shoulder, they began to walk. A sense of weightlessness overwhelmed Jeffery.

"So where are we going?" Jeffery asked. He took a quick glance at her just to make sure that she was actually there and not a figment of his fractured imagination.

'To my place," she grinned.

Jeffery felt his knees buckle. She held on tighter knowing full well his reaction to her answer.

"...uh...excuse me?"

With her shoulder touching his, she pushed him onto the empty street.

"I have to thank you, don't I? For my phone, right?"

Her hair bounced when she walked. Strands of hair whipped in front of her glasses. It wasn't as cold a minute ago, Jeffery thought.

"Well, I mean, you don't really have to. Reallly."

"Your stammering tells me that you're a good guy and your inability to string to together more than a minute's worth of dialogue tell me that you haven't been thanked in a long time."

The subtext erupted behind Jeffery's eyes. Wishful thinking, he reminded himself. Stop thinking wishfully.

"I don't want to put you out....uh...I mean...," Jeffery said then immediately bit his lower lip.

"Don't be a dick. Just go with it, action man," she replied as they crossed the street. The scents and sounds of the Arts District gradually bled back into the scene.

"Alright," Jeffery sighed. "Lead the way."

She turned to him and pinched his forearm.

"What was that for?" pleaded Jeffery. She responded with a smile and a sideways glance.

"Maggie!" she shouted.

A wide grin plastered itself all over Jeffery's face.

"Jeffery!" he shouted back.

A romantic's heart leapt in anticipation.

***

Her place was a coffee shop a few blocks from the Golden Age Theatre called The Semi-Poetic Café. It was owned by her aunt and uncle. She worked there five days a week and her payment was minimum wage and the small studio apartment above it. She specialized in blended drinks and graphic design. After quickly closing up for the night, she bucked the odds and made Jeffery an Irish coffee before they both settled down in a small couch in the corner of the café. She sat next to Jeffery Indian style holding an ashtray in one hand and a cigarette in the other. The absence of her pea coat revealed a small tattoo a few inches from her right wrist. She told him that it was Sanskrit for something that she couldn't reveal to someone she just met. But, she did assure him that it was important nonetheless.

Jeffery sat as close to her as humanly possible without betraying any rules of etiquette. He remembered passing by the Semi-Poetic a couple of times before and calling it a pretty pretentious place to get a cup of Joe. The abstract paintings and the gaudy vintage rugs suddenly became homey and charming to him. The off white walls filled with permanent marker scrawled poetry, he determined, was just cool.

He sipped at his drink and felt the hot liquid coating the back of his throat. His third cup had finally made him feel comfortable enough to forget the mask he had stashed away inside his messenger bag.

"The shirt," he pointed out, making sure not to gesture directly to her breasts. "I like it a lot. Movie?"

Maggie looked down at the letters and brushed off a thin layer of ash that had collected on it.

"It's a band shirt,' she replied. "Idlewild. Got it at their show in Melbourne a few weeks back."

"Oh yeah?" Jeffery nodded. "What's their sound?"

"Indie rock mostly," she answered. "Sweater rock. Its like you need to have a scarf with you at all times to properly enjoy it."

"That's kinda weird. Good way to explain it though."

Maggie laughed and put out her cigarette on the ashtray.

"I do that a lot. Most of the time I sound like a music magazine."

"It's a good sound to have," Jeffery told her.

"Still, it never fails to get you weird looks from folks now and then. It impresses the coffee shop crowd though. Like I'm a person in the know and shit."

"Well, count me as impressed. You're much hipper than I am."

Maggie patted herself on the back and playfully winked at Jeffery. He drained his cup and gave her a round of applause.

"So what kind of stuff are you into, action man?" she asked while lighting up a fresh cigarette.

"Fuck," Jeffery said, thinking for a moment. "The last CD I got was, I think, Beck's."

"Midnite Vultures?" she asked.

"Would it make me sound square if I said Odelay?"

Maggie snickered and blew a stream of smoke right in Jeffery's face.

"Asshole," she shouted. "At least you didn't say Mellow Gold cause then I would've had to beat you up."

She raised her fists and pantomimed an old fashioned boxing stance.

"Put up your dukes, ruffian!" Maggie commanded. Jeffery, happy to oblige, put up both of his palms.

"Before that was Uncle Tupelo," he remarked and was treated to a quick jab on his left palm.

"Before that was the Flying Burrito Brothers," he continued with the same results.

"Gram Parsons?"

Jab to right palm.

"Dan Bern?"

Jab to left palm.

"Bob Dylan?"

Cross to right palm.

"Led Zeppelin?"

Cross to left palm.

"The fucking Beatles?"

Body blow to abdomen.

"Ouch!" Jeffery shouted, exaggerating his response. He then grabbed his stomach and feigned doubling over on her in pain. Maggie on the other hand, satisfied with her victory, pushed him back to his side of the couch and lifted her arms in celebration.

"Champion of the world!" she announced before indulging in a hearty belly laugh. Jeffery joined her and their laughter filled the empty café. It bounced off the tables, the chairs, the blender, the espresso machine, and the tiny porcelain cups sitting behind the bar. It made the room feel lived in. Jeffery was truly enjoying himself, in stereo.

The cheerful chorus ended with Maggie coughing and taking struggling through taking another drag from her cigarette. With an air of obvious concern, Jeffery patted Maggie on the shoulder.

"Easy there, tiger."

"I'm cool," Maggie whispered and mentally noted Jeffery's touching gesture. "I haven't had this much fun since I moved here."

"Me too, I think," Jeffery whispered back.

A pause hung in the room. It was broken when Maggie reached with both arms and wrapped them around Jeffery's neck.

"I'm really glad I went to the movie tonight."

"Me too," Jeffery answered.

"I'm really glad I dropped my cell phone."

"Me too," he snapped back.

Then it happened, the moment that Jeffery has dreaded ever since that fateful night in junior high. The one where he was forced into a crossroad. Two divergent paths, long and distant, staring at him like the eyes of long dead ghosts, taunting him with utter uncertainty. Neither one of them smiled. They remained motionless and sat there suspended in space waiting for a decision to be made.

Then she started laughing.

Then he started laughing.

"That was kinda heavy, huh?" Jeffery asked while trying to catch his breath.

"Yeah, that was pretty tense," replied Maggie. "You looked like you were going to piss yourself or something."

"I think I did," commented Jeffery after mustering up the last of his bravado.

"Its good though. It was kinda getting there anyhow."

"Well, I did tell you to lead the way didn't I?"

"You sure did, action man. You sure did."

Their gazes never strayed from each other. Inside, Jeffery knew that he made the right decision and that he chose the right path. For once, he knew he wasn't walking it alone.

"It's getting late."

Maggie nodded.

"I better go."

"You better go," she repeated.

Jeffery slowly gathered his stuff and brace himself to stand but was suddenly stopped when Maggie grabbed him by the pants pocket.

"Don't you sometimes get the feeling that your life is patterned after scenes from movies?"

Her voice was softer, the cadence of her words more deliberate and thought out. A halo of diffused light from the street outside covered her with an almost fictional glow.

"I know exactly what you mean," answered Jeffery. He meant every word of it.

Maggie stood to face him.

"I must've seen this play out a million times before and it still gets to me because its one of those things that could happen to anyone at any given time. Its common enough to be easily forgotten."

"Or taken for granted," Jeffery finished for her.

"But the circumstances are special," continued Maggie. "At least I think theses circumstances are. Boy meets girl. Girl drops cell phone. Boy finds girl to return cell phone. Its universal and probably happens everyday but it sorta feels different, and not how you'd expect it to be, when you're the one its happening to."

Maggie paused. If it were actually a movie then it would've been for effect.

"Like its not a cliché," Jeffery added, taking his cue.

"Yeah," Maggie nodded. "Exactly."

They took baby steps towards the door, the inevitable parting too close at hand.

"You're a nice guy, Jeffery, and I'm a nice girl. I'd like to believe that we were bound to meet each other sooner or later."

"Like Martin Sheen and Sissy Spacek in Terrence Malick's Badlands?"

"Yeah," chuckled Maggie. "Except without the killing spree."

"I could arrange that," joked Jeffery, giving her a thumbs up.

"I'd love that," replied Maggie before giving him a thumbs up in return.

They reached the door and Maggie unlocked it for Jeffery. It sounded like thunder in the silent city. A plash of cold wind hit Jeffery square in the face as he stepped out onto the sidewalk. Still holding the door open, Maggie stuck her head out and surveyed the emptiness around her. Everything in order, she turned back to Jeffery and nodded once in a very military like manner.

"Now I'm not going to give you my number," she told him matter of factly. "Sometime in the near future, I'm expecting to see your back here. You know my name so you could ask for me if I'm not working."

Jeffery zipped up his jacked and shivered in the stillborn night.

"Is that how it works in the movies?" he asked.

"Cause I said so," Maggie answered. "Its my movie after all."

Jeffery pictured his long trek home and promised himself to skip at least half of the way there.

"So what do I do now?"

Maggie wrapped herself around Jeffery in a long embrace. Jeffery felt her heart beat through his jacket. She let go and slapped him on the elbow.

"Now you walk off into the sunset and you don't turn back cause you know that you did your job and that everyone in town is safe and sound."

Jeffery laughed under his breath.

"Is that how the movie ends?" he asked after taking two steps away from the door.

Maggie laughed and closed the door. From behind the glass, Jeffery watched her mouth the words, 'To be continued.'

Then he walked off, excited at the fact that it indeed was.

***

(for jason kenney)
november 3, 2003