writing snippet (James) - Taveston's

They sat across the table from each other in uncharacteristic silence. James fidgeted with his coaster, stroked the spine of the folded menu, drummed his fingers softly against the tabletop. Chayla’s arms were crossed and propped on the table and she was looking around, taking in Taveston’s familiar décor.

“So?...”

“Huh? Oh. I’m sorry – I just don’t have a lot to say today. It’s been a long day and I’m just feeling worn out, you know?”

“Well yeah, I figured that. Your job sucks, James. I don’t know how you keep going back every day.”

“Yeah…”

“But that’s why I called you. So you wouldn’t just finish work and then go home to that itty little apartment of yours and spend all your time alone on the Internet or something, and turn into one of those guys who spends all his time alone except when he’s at work.” Chayla paused a moment.

“What if you went crazy and started hallucinating or something? No one would know. You could be mauled to death by imaginary bears, and no one would pretend to know what happened.”

“Right, thank you. You came this close to saying something sweet and meaningful…and then imaginary bears happened.”

Chayla shot him a withering look and then looked around to flag down the bar man.

“Hey, Chay. What’s goin’ on, moonchild? What can I get ya?”

“Not a lot, Luke. And just the usual, please – Fat Tire and an apology from an asshole.” Luke was just weird enough for Chayla to forgive him for mostly being a stiff.

Luke gave her a slow grin and turned to James. “Little trouble in paradise, amigo?”

“Soon as I’m in paradise I’ll call the bar and let you know. And I could go for a Terrapin, I think.”

Luke bobbed his head in affirmation and shuffled off to the bar “Get those drinks right up for ya. Have to add the apology to your tab, though.”

Chayla watched him walk away, not turning back to look at James. “You’re an A-grade jerk, you know that?”

“…said the girl who used to stand outside the door with a wine bottle and swear in French whenever I tried to invite someone over,” James sighed. “Also, the topless thing.”

Chayla couldn’t keep up the act any longer. She almost snorted, broke into a grin at the memory. “You coulda done better than any three of them anyway, my darling little J-hole. So, what’s going on anyway? I know you’re usually Serious McBusinesspants right off of work, but you seem a little mopier than usual?”

“Thanks,” James nodded to Luke as he set the two beers down. “I don’t know, Chayla. I guess I’ve just been in a weird mood today. About halfway through the morning I got this picture of the mountains stuck in my mind, and after a while I just wanted to leave my desk and get in the car and go. Payday’s at the end of the week, so why not? I just got gas, so I could go a few hundred miles before I had to start walking. Go south and I might be able to get as far as Georgia. I’ve got some family down there, and I’ve always wanted to see Athens and Savannah. North and…well, I don’t know how far I could get, but as long as my car didn’t die on a turnpike I think I’d be okay. Maybe just take the tags off and abandon it when it does, and start a new life in the closest town I can walk to from there. You know? Even If I just go back to doing the same god-awful boring stuff that I’m doing now, at least I’ll know that I did something with my life for at least a few days.”

“James! Stop it.”

“Christ, what’s wrong with that?" Chayla's tone put him on the defensive. "You and I both know that I’m probably not actually going to do it. I’ve got too many responsibilities here. I’ll probably never leave this damn place.”

“No, I meant stop touching your face so much when you talk. It’s distracting.”

James stared at Chayla, expressionless for several moments, then sighed into his beer and took a long drink. This was probably why they never dated back in school.

Excerpt: Reading at Night

I flipped through the folded pages slowly. I was trying as hard as I could to stay focused on the words in front of me, but I always had trouble reading for someone when they were with me. It was easily three times more difficult tonight because I was reading it for her, and double that because she was sitting right next to me. Maybe I was imagining it, but every word on those pages was contending for my attention against the warmth coming off her skin, every soft whisper of her breath. It was short—only three pages—but it might as well have been in Latin, as long as it was taking me to read it.

"Well, what do you think?"

I responded slowly, trying desperately to remember what I'd just read. "It's good. I, I definitely liked it."

Her lips smiled, her eyes gleamed with a knowing smirk that would cause me to stammer like an idiot and blush if I looked into them any longer.

If anyone else had given me that kind of I-told-you-so stare, I would have just gotten up and walked away. "Well, okay. I guess I have some questions..."

"Sure! what's up?"

"Well, you've asked me to read a couple other things and I don't think they're related, but some of the same names come up over and over again. Is it the same characters in all the stories?"

Angel played with her collar thoughtfully. "You know, I'd never really thought about it before. I guess they sort of are, except...not really? Like, the names represent a specific archetype or something in my head, so if there's a story with James in it, for example, he'll be similar to any other James, but not necessarily the same one? So, like, Lord James will be similar to James Jameson, P.I., but it won't be the same guy who's like 600 years old now. Even though I haven't ever actually written anything Medieval or a detective story..."

"That makes sense, I think. I guess the other thing I wondered about it why it's always raining. Isn't that a sign that something bad is happening when it rains? None of your stuff I've read is particularly sad."

I was staring at the empty space somewhere between the pages in my hand and her jean-clad knee when she stretched out, leaning back on her elbows, but I didn't have to see her face to imagine the smirk she was wearing. "They say you're supposed to write what you know. And it rains here. All. The. Time."

And like a switch had been turned on I started to notice the thickness in the air and the touch of chill, the dull hiss of rain against pavement seeping in through one of the cracked windows, the slowly fading dampness of my own jeans that made them cling to my knees uncomfortably. Damn, she was right. It had started raining this afternoon. It had rained two days ago. It had probably rained here every few days for as far back as I could remember, if I tried to remember.

"Anything else?"

"Huh? Oh, no. I think that's it. I'm sorry. I got distracted listening to the rain outside."

"It's alright. Just don't get too distracted. Rain makes people sleepy, and you're a lot more fun to talk to when you're awake." She leaned over take the folded pages from my hand, rested her head on my shoulder for a moment before she stood up and stretched her arms toward the ceiling. "I really do like it here, but it's always so dark when it rains. I mean, it's dark at night anyway, but with all the clouds there's no moon or anything. If it wasn't for us bringing it with us, there might not be any light at all. If this place could talk, I bet it would thank us."

I nodded dumbly, as though struck by the most profound thought that had ever come to mind.