Sam Pink - The Self-Esteem Holocaust Comes Home

The driver rolls the window up on the man’s neck. His neck breaks, and his face coughs wetly on the seat.

THE MAN FROM THE LIGHTLESSNESS IN THE BACKSEAT: [to himself, noticing his stained shoes] Shit, my shoes are ruined. What will protect my feet now? If not my shoes then what? Oh wait [stoops and gives thumbs-up to the driver] I think he’s good.

The driver makes the “I can’t hear you, sorry” gesture from inside.

THE MAN FROM THE LIGHTLESSNESS IN THE BACKSEAT: [louder] I said, I think he’s good.

He walks around the car. Knocks on the driver’s window.

THE MAN FROM THE LIGHTLESSNESS IN THE BACKSEAT: [motioning to roll down the window] I was just saying I think he’s good.

THE DRIVER: Yeah [looking at the body, slumped and oddly still].

Yeah I think I know what you mean and I think so too. I think he’s good. Sometimes when I am eating a candy bar I say, ‘this is good’ but I don’t think you mean that kind of good.

THE MAN FROM THE LIGHTLESSNESS IN THE BACKSEAT: [pauses, turns] Yeah I think he’s definitely good. Not candy-bar good. But good.

The driver rubs fog off the windshield with his sleeve.

THE DRIVER: I wish the whole world was candy-bar good, you know?

THE MAN FROM THE LIGHTLESSNESS IN THE BACKSEAT: I wish it was the other kind of good we just talked about.

THE DRIVER: Not candy-bar good?

The man from the lightlessness shakes his head, and opens the driver’s door. Together they carry the body to the portable toilet.

THE DRIVER: [taking a rock off the ground] I will fill his mouth with this rock.

THE MAN FROM THE LIGHTLESSNESS IN THE BACKSEAT: [nods] Yes. He will not be allowed to float.

THE DRIVER: He will not be allowed to float [puts stone in] we will make him too heavy. He will be too heavy.

THE MAN FROM THE LIGHTLESSNESS IN THE BACKSEAT: It is good to make him too heavy. We are doing the thing that is right [nods] To keep the earth away from the ceiling of space, we do the thing that is right.

THE DRIVER: I agree. I hope his face becomes infected and gruesome and turns into something no one wants to see. The shit and bad water will get into his ripped face. When I am alone at my apartment and I hate the smell, I eat an orange and I squeeze the peels so they spray good smelling mist into the air. It helps I think. It helps somehow. I don’t know what I’m talking about. It’s just when I thought about the portable toilet I immediately thought of my apartment. But seriously, I have no clue what I’m talking about.

THE MAN FROM THE LIGHTLESSNESS IN THE BACKSEAT: Yes, that sounds nice.

They throw the body into the portable toilet. It swings by the waist, face in the shit water. They stuff the head into the shit and garbage and submerge the entire body. Then they back away from the portable toilet to avoid the splash. The plastic door has ice on it. They stare at the ice as it receives pulsing red from the powerlines.

THE DRIVER: [pointing at ice] I like the way that looks.

THE MAN FROM THE LIGHTLESSNESS IN THE BACKSEAT: Me too.

THE DRIVER: Maybe the world isn’t so bad.

They walk back to the car.

THE DRIVER: Hey do you have any gum? My mouth is dry. Way too dry [pointing, with mock accusation] Don’t be a liar like you know who. Do you have any gum?

THE MAN FROM THE LIGHTLESSNESS IN THE BACKSEAT: No. I don’t have any gum. But I can put some snow in your mouth if you want me to. I would do that for you. You know I would do that for you.

THE DRIVER: No thanks [stops by the car and stands on the shoulder of the road] Everything seems quiet now. Nothing is moving. I refuse to let anything upset me [leans back on car, folding arms] There is nothing that can upset me. It hasn’t happened in a long time. I don’t think it will ever happen again. Is that good or bad? Is that candy-bar good? We are in a secret armpit of the world and I am glad to be here with you. I really mean that.

THE MAN FROM THE LIGHTLESSNESS IN THE BACKSEAT: [looking into forest, dizzy] I am glad to be here with you too [not blinking] When I’m driving or walking late at night and I pass a building that has a light on inside and I can see someone inside, walking around — I feel great. I like to look at people who I know are not looking at me. That is something I don’t think, that is something I know. I don’t have any beliefs because I know everything. And I don’t want to hear any more of your beliefs. They don’t matter to me.

THE DRIVER: [opening passenger-side door] You want to sit up front with me?

THE MAN FROM THE LIGHTLESSNESS IN THE BACKSEAT: [looks at mess] No, thank you.

They hug. They drive away. The driver suggests they institute a change cup so as to easily purchase gum by collecting extra pennies and quarters. His suggestion is met with silence. They both think of things to say but say none of them. Driving. They return to the main road, and stop at red lights automatically, staring blinkless.

A man and a woman are taking a shower together in a small cold bathroom. The man watches as the water drains and the woman dips her head backwards under the showerhead, squeezes water out.

WOMAN: Are you done?

MAN: Yes. I’m done. Even though I know I will have to do this again, I’m done right now [holds elbows in hands, shivering] I’m done for now. Thank you.

The woman turns, talks to him over her shoulder.

WOMAN: You have been quiet.

MAN: [watching the water] I have been thinking about whether or not I could force your entire body down the drain.

WOMAN: [blinking some water out of her eyes] Thinking is a good way to keep from passing out and dying. Thinking is good for keeping yourself awake. Thinking is dirty air making its way into your head and collecting in a pile that you try to separate by grain-size [spits water out] Thinking is what makes your blood steam out through your pores and rise in a cloud that covers a piece of ground that no one is looking at.

MAN: [crossing arms, the water hits his face] Thank you for teaching me how to think.

The woman shuts the water off and steps out of the shower. She begins to towel off. The man stays in the shower, watching the water drain.

WOMAN: [toweling her hair] Why are you still standing there?

MAN: Do you ever worry that something is leaving with the water? And that it will never come back?

WOMAN: Not at all [bends at waist and continues toweling her hair] I want the water to leave. It has both of us in it. If it doesn’t leave, we will continue to be together.

The man collects some of the water in his hands and drinks it. He gets out and takes the towel from her and dries off, preoccupied.

MAN: [to himself] I still think something is bothering me — maybe it isn’t the water.

The man and the woman put their underwear on and face the mirror. They look at each other in the mirror, not themselves.

MAN: [reaching past her to grab some deodorant] I love you more than anything. Now that the water is in my stomach, nothing will change. We will continue to be together. You can hate me, but I will hold it in me forever. Even if it turns to boil and poisons me. Maybe the water will become my blood. I don’t know. Whatever it is, I will hold it in.

WOMAN: [combing hair, making eye contact in mirror] Then I will cut it out of you [pinching nose clean of water, wincing] Can you hand me that lipstick behind you, on the windowsill?

MAN: [turning] Here you go.

WOMAN: [reaching behind her] Thanks, I bet— [she stops, looks at her hand, then holds up a switchblade] Nice try. You think this would kill me? You will never kill me. You will never be alone [runs the switchblade over her mouth and gums] You will never say goodbye to me [rubs her lips together] You will never be alone.