Six Stories, Six Voices

January 27, 2014

Six Stories, Six Voices

One.

We’re having drinks at a pub in town, all sharing stories about whatever comes to mind. He tugs on the sleeve of his oatmeal-colored sweater, giving a snorting chuckle at someone else’s comment.

Yeah, when I got my wisdom teeth out,

we found out I have this really weird heart disease

or something, because I actually died right on the table.

They hooked me up to a heart monitor out of routine,

you know, cause of the anesthesia,

but I don’t think anyone expected it

when I just flatlined

for about fifteen seconds.

They probably just looked at each other, like

“What just...?

What do we...?

Aaaaand he’s back.”

But yeah, apparently my heart stops

every night in my sleep.

I’m guessing it’s not for fifteen seconds

all the time, but... I mean, I always wake up.

He takes a sip of his ale as the rest of us laugh a little in shocked awe. “Wow, uhh... you should really get that checked out or something!”

Oh, I did. Yeah, I went to U-Mass General,

and they gave me this huge heart monitor

I had wear strapped to my chest for a week.

It looked like a bomb, all wires poking out.

We had to call and tell the high school

I wasn’t a terrorist or anything.

That’s how we know it happens every night.

Took it back to the doctors, and they said “Yeah,

we...have no idea what this is.”

And this is U-Mass General.

So like, a pretty big deal. But they couldn’t do anything about it.

So I just

die every night in my sleep.

I guess I’m so relaxed that I just

pass on to another life.

Two.

We’re all discussing school, the future, and the scary reality of graduate study, when someone asks her, “Don’t you have that weird post-doc in your lab?”

Oh, yeah, so at my lab in Penn-State,

there are a few grad students, a couple of post-docs, and then like

one other undergrad besides me,

who works in the same lab,

but not in the same room,

so I rarely see them.

But one of the post-docs is just weird – 

like, I overhear her talking about her divorce on the phone, and...

she just makes her personal life

very public.

Curious, we ask for details. She debates how much she should share, but decides that this story is one worth telling. She starts off quickly, as if she’s heard this explained many times over.

Alright, so she got divorced last year and then really quickly got remarried,

and if you saw her in person, like, you would be surprised.

I know,

I’m a terrible person for saying that, but

if you saw her,

you would think the exact same thing. It’s just surprising.

Oh and also she’s crazy.

Anyway, so she got married and now she’s living with his family on a farm

that’s like, kind of far from state school,

and she has to take care of her...

what do you call it when someone has Alzheimers? Dementia.

Yeah, she’s taking care of her demented stepmother.

I mean, mother-in-law, not stepmother.

But she’ll also say how she’ll just sit down

and knit a pair of socks in one evening, and I’m like... you have a weird life.

But yeah, that’s my lab story.

Three.

We’re at the dinner table, the meal winding down into conversation.

My dad always made us breakfast in the mornings,

and I guess he still kind of does that occasionally.

There was one time when he got out the carton of eggs,

and you can imagine him selecting one egg in particular,

but it’s stuck.

A little dollop of sticky stuff

had gotten in there, adhering

the egg to the carton.

So he twists it this way,

and that way,

and pulls at it,

really trying hard for this one egg.

But it’s stuck fast.

When it seems like he’s done all he’s can,

he decides to turn the whole thing over like this...

He pantomimes raising the carton over his head upside down, grinning.

and it all comes SPLCHT ...

He brings one hand over his face, the other still holding the imaginary carton.

all over his face,

yolk dripping down his chin, and

all over the floor,

everywhere.

He sits back in his chair, chuckling.

I believe there were some curse words involved.




Four.

We’ve just finished playing one of our favorite card games, catching up the months we haven’t seen each other. She takes the deck to shuffle it again, pushing the sleeves of her hoodie up to her elbows.

Alright, so I’ve got a good story.

I’m at Tilt with a couple of friends,

you know, Tilt, that club in Rochester,

they have a hilarious drag show, with all the music

and the lip-syncing haha, so I’m there with some

teammates from lacrosse, just hangin out,

havin a good time and everything,

and eventually this girl comes up and starts talking to me.

She’s pretty cool, and we’re talkin about school or something,

when she asks me if I want to go out on the dance floor with her.

Now, that’s not really my thing, but I’m thinkin sure, whatever,

it might be fun, so I say yeah,

just let me go tell my friends where I’ll be.

I head over to my friend Kenzie and let her know

what’s goin on, and then as I turn back, I see this girl,

she’s just grinding with this other group of girls and this one guy.

Kenzie sees her too, and we look at each other.

Hide? she asks me, haha and I just nod.

So Kenzie and I, we run to the ladies’ room,

I mean we book it. Pfwoom, right through the crowd of people.

And of course we don’t think that she could easily find us there, but whatever.

We hide out for a while, till we think the coast is clear,

and make it back to our table. No sign of her.

Little while later, we’re all about ready to leave,

and we get through the door when this black car pulls up.

And who do you know gets out, that same girl,

and that guy I’d sorta seen her with,

and they come up and ask me, hey,

do you want to come back to our place for a little while.

I said no thanks and pretty much ran to our car,

and once we were driving away, I was just like, dude...

She leans forward, laughing a little and giving a smile almost out of disbelief, her hand to her forehead as if she’s trying to hide her expression.

I just got asked to be in a threesome!

Five.

We’re talking through an online video call, exchanging anecdotes about what’s happened while I’m away and he’s not.

So yesterday we go to the philharmonic orchestra

and get our seats on the balcony. Then

this usher out of nowhere asks us for our tickets.

We thought it was free,

and no one stopped us on our way up,

so we were confused,

but I asked where we could get them.

We go to the box office,

pay the ten dollars,

and then on our way back up

we get stopped

five times.

The actual show was glorious.

It was Fred and Ginger, so

tons of singing and dancing.

Well worth it.

But uch...

He rubs his forehead with his hand.

It’s such a Travis thing to happen.

If we didn’t walk up to the grand balcony,

if we’d gone to the mezzanine,

we would never have known.

Six.

We’re waiting for a bus in the Houston sun after two that were supposed to arrive never showed. There’s a black woman sitting on the bench in a big floral dress and a cream-colored hat, fanning herself with a church program.

Nah, win we was growin up on the fahm,

we knew win theh was trouble. I remembuh,

if my mama evuh called me by mah whole name,

if she evuh hollahd MARY MAGDALENA WILLIAMS,

I sho knew I was in fo a whoopin.

Mah brothuhs’d run me rite down, and kiss me!

Hoo-wee, they’d bring me rite in jus to see me git whooped.

They weren’t th’only thing that’d chase yuh, neithuh.

Aw, no. We had this mean ol’ rooster jus wandered round,

lookin fo sumthin to pick on. Sumtimes that was the dog.

And sumtimes, specially win I was real young

(not like now, now I’s old!), that was me. He’d chase me

all round the fahm, screamin at me. Mmhm. Screamin all over.

The woman she’s speaking to decides to leave, saying she’s been waiting too long, she’s going to try to take the 15 instead. She says her goodbyes to the woman in the flowered dress.

Ah-rite, babe, you take cayuh, na. Mhm, thassrite.

Leas’ you won’t be chased by no rooster.