Rafael Yglesias - Only Children

Listen to a young heartbeat.

Fast. Strong. Brave.

She forgot for a moment. She could feel Byron’s skin against her cheek and hear the thuds of his life. She forgot for a moment.

The sound pulled back — a shot, air exploding. The gray river twisted away.…

Don’t hit the brakes hard, you’ll skid. Turn into it, the tire’s blown—

There was Byron — get home to him.

I can handle this, the road is empty, this skid will—

The gray river disappeared. Her head hit the ceiling. She knew she was off the road, bucking on the black grass. She knew the shadows ahead were trees—

The seat belt. She had forgotten.

There’s Byron — get home to him. How fast am I going? Why doesn’t it end? What a stupid way to die.

The shadows came fast now. Dark and huge.

Do something! There has to be something you can do.

At the last second of this eternity, cursing herself, Diane twisted out of the seat and tried to leap back, back to the way she had come, back against the rush to nothing.

ERIC GOLD, the Wizard of Wall Street, returned to his desk, ignored the sounds of the pygmies, and made his bold move. “Billy? Here’s the short list—”

“Uh, Eric,” Billy stammered. “We’ve got a problem.”

What problem? Weeks ago Eric had cleared the borrowing. He had been ready all his life for this triumph.

Sammy’s hand came down on his phone. Eric stared at the fingers slashed across his phone, cutting him off. He thought: okay, Sammy, I’ll slam the phone on you and break your fingers.

“Eric.” It was the owl. “I’ve told Billy not to accept any orders from you. I spoke to Tom Winningham half an hour ago. He’s removed your discretion and turned it over to me. I couldn’t do anything about your closing out the positions, I’ve explained that. Mr. Winningham was appalled that you sold him out of the market. I told him it would be a good opportunity to get him into some quality issues.”

“It’s Billy,” said one of the secretaries.

So this is why no one looked at me when I came in.

“Tell Billy we’ll get back to him,” Joe said.

Eric couldn’t look up. His eyes stayed on Sammy’s white fingers — cutting Eric off from the money.

Joe said, “I begged you to discuss this in the office with me. I repeat my request. We’ve worked together for many years — let’s not end our association too hastily.”

Joe was sure of his position. Eric couldn’t help himself from guessing what Joe might offer. Half the management fee? Nothing? Raise Eric’s salary while lowering his cut of the profits?

Come on, Eric. You can’t go back. You can’t be the pleasant servant anymore. Joe is relying on your cowardice.

“Sammy,” Eric said. “Move your fucking fingers or I’ll break them.”

“Either come into the office now,” Joe said, “or get out.”

Eric looked at Sammy. Sammy’s thin face, usually nervous, worried, harassed, seemed to be at peace. Sammy’s won, Eric realized. Sammy had recovered his father’s respect. For a weird moment, Eric was glad for Sammy.

If only I had the courage to go, this would be a happy ending for everyone.

“Sammy,” Eric repeated. “I’ll break your fingers.”

“Who are you gonna call?” Sammy said softly. “Your father-in-law? He’s already made his decision. You can’t talk him out of it.”

Leave, Nina had said. Leave and we’ll make it. Maybe she could call Tom, get him to change — but she won’t.

He got up slowly. He felt himself grow. He was tall. Much taller than anyone in the room.

I’m so big. I should be strong.

His life was in this room. His dreams, no matter how comatose, still beeped a stubborn rhythm, still danced on the crazy red letters and numbers.

Go.

“Come into the office,” Joe said in a sweet, low chant. Joe got up from his chair and gestured inside.

Sammy nodded at Eric. Go in, make a deal.

Him too? He also wants me to stay. Why? Guilt? Or fear?

Leave. You don’t need them, Nina had said.

But she knew nothing about it. She didn’t know Eric’s weakness, she didn’t know his fear.

I am so big. So much bigger than them. Why can’t I be strong?

A THOUSAND-PIECE setting of China shattered. A hundred drawers of silverware crashed.

Cover yourself. Close up.

Diane was in the womb again. Legs tight, arms folded, eyes shut. She spun in the dark sea and prayed to be born.

Let me live through this mistake. I’ll be good. I won’t make any more errors.

The angry noise, with a final crash, stopped.

She stayed covered, closed, and awaited judgment.

There was no light. Her eyes saw nothing. The world was soft.

Get out quickly. Death waits here for you.

Out!

The floor cut and crunched. There was a little opening, just a small way out. Squeeze through. I won’t fit. I’m too big. I can’t get out!

Go quickly — death wants you. Get out!

I’m alive. This is a car. I’m alive. This is the window. Get out! Mom’s car will explode.

And she was out — rolling on the earth’s mattress, rolling on the unmade bed. But there was no light anywhere.

You idiot — you’re blind now. You killed your eyesight. You stupid, stupid, careless girl. You killed—

Open your eyes. You’ll see. Everything you want will be there; open your eyes and you will see the world you want.

This is grass. That’s the sound of the car engine. Just open your eyes and you will live.

She let go of fear. She opened her heart, stretched her legs, released the grip on her soul. The stars floated up to the ceiling, the blue-black dome of the world, white lights everywhere, jammed with life, crowded with cold confidence, millions of lights, endlessly signaling: we are here for you. We are with you.

The goddamned car, that wreck, may blow up.

She forced herself to her feet. Her legs didn’t have enough string in them. She fell forward, like a stupid infant.

Obviously they’re broken. Probably you’re dead. You’re dying and you don’t know it. Your arrogance is a joke. To think you could survive that crash. Well, if you get yourself to a hospital, maybe there’s a chance. Better get your purse from the car to pay the bill.

She walked again without remembering how.

But where’s the car door? The wheels were in the way. Why did they put the wheels like that? In the way of the doors? What a stupid car.

It’s upside down. My God, it’s upside down. Get away from it, it’ll blow up. Survive the crash and die for your purse.

But they won’t take me without my Blue Cross card. They’ll let me die. Concussion probably. Maybe shock. Aren’t you supposed to sit down now? You’ll probably die because you’re walking.

You’re very tired. Go back to bed. Have a different dream.

I’m sorry, Ma. I thought I should be home with Peter and Byron. I’m sorry I love them. I could be happy. I could go to the stars and float, but I love them — I have to have a Blue Cross card so they’ll love me.

Okay?

“Are you all right?” a face said.

I’ve never been right in my life. Maybe my purse was thrown from the car. See, if I didn’t need Peter and Byron, I wouldn’t have a purse.

“Is there anyone else in the car?”

“Purse.”

“Sit down here. You don’t look God.”

Of course not. No one is God. People make the world what it is: bright stars or unmade beds. People decide that even without their purse. Because they love. That’s why. They love and so they die.

I’ve got to stop crying. This policeman won’t take me to the hospital if I’m crying.

Big girls don’t cry because they lose their purse; they go to Saks and buy a new one.

“No one’s in there. Here, just sit. What happened?”