Kyle Muntz - Voices

She did.

We tore.

::::::::::::::::::::

I ran back through the forest. I might have fallen. The night rushed: the sky and wind. She was waiting for me. She waited. To think once, never so inclined to making gains, inclines and vibes, her sense of the wondrous, to hold her more. If it were just that we had no need to be. If I could stop time there would be no reason to fly.

"What could

it mean," he asked. "These kids don’t think, these kids don’t know. There’s no respect in the world." There’s no respect.

I turned

to his daughter and she shook her head. Jacob was right. She didn’t understand either.

"Well,

thanks a lot," I said. "Thanks. You guys were a lot of help. Really."

I

left.

They

hadn’t

helped

at

all

.

::::::::::::::::::::

On the way out, I broke their mailbox.

::::::::::::::::::::

"Jacob, what are you doing here?"

He looked at me. Pitiful eyes. He didn’t belong at this party. I’d already talked to him, small and fearing, no point to making him sway. The gruel never did flow for him, the crows never flew. He was a spider minus webbings, pitiful, pitiful lies, taking advantage, making a home where he didn’t belong. We didn’t want him here. He hogged more than his percentage of the light.

"What do you mean?" looking up. "I’ve got just as much right to be here as you do. You know that. They have a place for me here, and a way for me to be." He nodded once, bobbing. I thought again that I never should have helped him, but he already knew.

On the way

out,

I broke

their mailbox.

It

cracked,

and the top caved in, all

shattered and breaking in half.

I hate

that fucking guy.

::::::::::::::::::::

We kissed

on the veranda. It was her arms and mine, sanctified: soft smooth skin, running

hands down her back, running them up. The night didn’t call to us, because the

night couldn’t call, but we were there and we were really there. She tasted like

something that wasn’t moonlight. Scent and oranges, color, ellipsoid racing, we

kissed. It started to rain. She didn’t pull away. The rain matted her hair to us, a fall

of water. We kissed. Her essence and the rain, gorgeous,

she didn’t pull away.

::::::::::::::::::::

"Are you coming back?" She held onto my hand. She was very beautiful.

Incandescence lit her, accenting cheekbones, set and stature, the glow of her, in sight. She stood and the world circled. She was more things than one. She held existence together.

"Yeah," I said. "I just need my camera."

"Why?" As she spoke, the sirens got louder. Maybe she could stay. More kids came running. There’d only been two cars. They probably weren’t chasing. "I just need my camera," I said. "It’s really important." "Why?"

She asked again, but right now, it was too much to explain.

::::::::::::::::::::

O n t he wa y o ut, I fin all y

br oke

th at gu y’s fuck ing

mail box.

::::::::::::::::::::

I talked to Markus again finally. He said he was trouble again, man, he really was. He didn’t understand but he was having trouble. He scratched himself once on the face but it didn’t itch he said he scratched himself again but it still didn’t itch . He was seeing spiders on the walls and he couldn’t even bring himself to watch TV.

— What is it?

— I don’t know.

— What is it?

— I’ve been hearing voices.

::::::::::::::::::::

Jacob vomited soon, I saw, though I was done paying him attention. I found Markus in the corner and he handed me something to drink. He smelled like smoke. He shook. Permeation, an orangish hazish hazing, hanging in fits, the ceiling, a hazing blanket. I didn’t really want to be there. I gave him the drink. I went outside. I found

her there, fulminating darkness, iodine imbalance. She sat alone on something that might have been a veranda, swinging feet, looking around. She sat. I saw her there. Sight in the dark, I took steps because she’d finally been

found.

— What’s up? I said. I saw you today. In the hall, walking the other way. I saw you.

— I saw you too, she said. I’d already forgotten your name. — That’s fine. There were people in the way.

— Yeah, she said. There were people.

::::::::::::::::::::

"Will you wait for me?" I asked.

"What?"

"I just have to get my camera."

She stood against the tree. The sirens got louder. "Yeah," she said. "I’ll wait."

::::::::::::::::::::

"It’s starting to rain," I said, and it had. Water clung to her skin, clinging clear and pure. I kissed her again. "We should probably go inside."

"Yeah," she said. "We probably should."

I kissed her again.

We never

went inside.

Markus walked all over the room. He looked up, scratched his face (nervously), and said a prayer too quiet for language. The ceiling fan flung; the floor stayed flat; he could jump up once and never touch the walls. His hair plastered itself; the room stayed silent. We breathed, but of course we breathed. His hamster made hamster sounds, sounding remarkably like a hamster. His mom turned on the vacuum. “Are you going to be okay?” I asked.

“They’re back.” He scratched his face, covered in pink streaks; his freckles; worry and fear. “They’re everywhere” He shook his head. “They’re every where…” “I’m not sure yet,” I said. “But maybe.”

Outside a car pulled into his neighbor’s garage. I stood up, thought of other places we could be. Markus wiggled his foot.

In the those other places

::::::::::::::::::::

we found James throwing rocks at cars. He hadn’t hit any yet. I think the idea was to flirt with damage, cracking windshields, a soaring stone. But he wasn’t ready to cross the line yet. Pebbles fell short, tires pulled past. He stood too far away. Markus and I threw a few. We missed. We had to miss. We were obligated to miss.

::::::::::::::::::::

Yeah, he said, I know her. She has dark eyes and raven hair? I met her at a party a year or so ago, outside. She was a little drunk. Her boyfriend was in the other room. We talked for a while about Pythagoras and breaking clouds- no, not really, we talked about airplane bathrooms and clubhouses outside the Aegean Sea. I couldn’t stop staring at her shoulder. We drank a gallon of water together. Her boyfriend never left the other room. She’d acted in a movie, once, she told me, and she could almost play guitar. We kissed a few times. I’m sure I had bad breath. For some reason we never left the table. Her jeans were torn at the knee, and I kept staring at that too. When I told her a story about my mom it made her laugh. She’d never been out of the country before.

::::::::::::::::::::

I found Jacob in his spot again. The dregs were his den of confinement, and the skeletons made room for him there. He wouldn't look me in the face anymore, focusing once on his toes, then memorizing the wall. He sat with his back against the dumpster, leaning, and his head against it too, greased around the edges, a generation of waste. Maybe there were spiders, but there are worse things than venom.

"What do you come here for?" I asked, though I didn’t want an answer. I should ask why I came. This wasn’t my place, I didn’t belong here either. Stains leaked in fear. Puddles did the unmentionable.

He didn’t answer, just shrugged, and stuck one hand in his pocket. His sweater was gray. There were holes in it. Why did he come here, and why did he lay, to sit so silent in the aftermath, alleys, virulent corners? The embers didn’t fire. No one wept for him. Maybe he told himself they wept, but I’m sure somewhere he knew better.