Circular Motion Read online

  “What do you think?” She twirled around and held out her hands palms downward towards me.

  “C’est chic. It’s nice.” My French was rusty. She did look pretty though. I didn’t lie. She went back into the changing booth to change. I figured I should do it was soon as possible. I walked up the girl at the cash register. “Can I pay for that dress?”

  “The yellow one? Sure.” The sales girl had short hair that didn’t cover her neck and you could see these freckles. “That’s 84 79. Cash or credit?”

  I opened my wallet and handed her my dad’s credit card. She punched in some numbers and swiped the card and waited for a few seconds. Then she pulled some paper out of the machine. (machine)

  She smiled and gave me a pen. “Sign here please.”

  I signed the paper and she gave back the card to me. “Thanks.”

  “Would you like the receipt?”

  “No. That’s ok.” She was shuffling something behind the register and I turned and walked out alone. On my way through the door I thought I heard her humming in the changing booth but I wasn’t sure. I think credit is wonderful.

  Chapter 2

  The car didn’t wanna start at first but I got it working anyway. I mean I had to turn the key more than once before the engine started. I’m not sure why. I don’t understand cars very well but I figure they don’t understand me very well so it’s ok. My sister would say ‘it’s all good.’

  #

  asm mov cl, byte ptr plane

  asm add cl, 0x08

  asm mov ax, 1

  asm shl ax, cl

  asm add ax, 0x0002

  asm mov dx, 0x03c4

  asm out dx, ax

  #

  I think I got lost. After a while I wasn’t sure where I was going. But not really. I mean, I was on a main road and I could have just backtracked if I had really wanted to get somewhere. I remember pressing buttons on the car radio. In the winter I have to press the buttons with my thumb because I’d wear mittens and you can’t really press the buttons with that big finger-clump thing.

  The stations weren’t very good. (dead radio wave receiver)

  #

  asm mov cl, byte ptr plane

  asm mov ax, 0x0100

  asm shl ax, cl

  asm mov al, 0x02

  asm mov dx, 0x03c4

  asm out dx, ax

  #

  When I was a kid I used to love the radio stations. Like they sent out radio waves and stuff. A kid in high school I mean. I guess I’m not a kid anymore. And other things have changed since I was a kid. Like I remember being bipolar. I think so anyway. I was never diagnosed or anything so maybe I’m just trying blaming my failures on genetic defects but I’m pretty sure I was. Sometimes I would think about suicide and just sit in my room all day staring at this Peanuts plaque on my wall next to one of my window curtains that said something like, ‘Smile, it makes people wonder what you’ve been up to.’ Then in school I’d be manic and shoot rubber bands at my psych teacher. She had this kinda Afro hair that made her unfashionably unintimidating. I used to ask her if I could take her eight-year-old daughter to the prom. Actually I’m not sure if the daughter was eight but I think she was younger than me. She never noticed anything funny though. My psych teacher I mean. She never noticed there was anything wrong with me. So maybe there was nothing ever to notice and maybe I’m just normal. But having a mental disorder would make me fashionably intimidating.

  #

  asm mov bx, word ptr ptrargtable

  asm mov ax, word ptr [bx]

  asm mov dx, 0x03c4

  asm out dx, ax

  #

  Anyway I ended up at this park I’ve never been to before. I forget its name. Something about a president. Or President. I went under this iron archway and walked along a path of paved cement like asphalt but a different color. I had these dressy shoes on and I think my toes started to hurt from walking but I’m not really sure when exactly. There were trees everywhere and a couple of benches on the side of the walkway. It was summer, almost fall, but fall hadn’t arrived yet. I think maybe that might possibly be redundant. A few people were tossing a Frisbee in a clearing where there weren’t any trees.

  (redundancy)

  Ahead of me on a bench underneath a tree limb I saw two people sitting holding hands. I thought they were a couple because they were holding hands and people don’t usually hold hands unless they’re in dating. But actually the girl just had her hand out and the boy was holding on to the wrist. I remember I was practicing my model walk where I place each foot directly in front of the other when I walked past them.

  “Do you love me?” he said. Maybe my toes hurt because I was walking all weird.

  “No. That’s the entire point.” I could hear them talk as I went past.

  There was a long silence. Except of course for the wind and the birds and the trees and the earth. I looked over at them and the boy was getting fidgety with his legs and hands and arms and mouth. (park under tree kiss) The girl just stared at the ground and swung her legs a little and moved her hands to her lap. She wasn’t pretty but she wasn’t ugly either. She reminded me of me. The boy leaned forward.

  “No,” she said. Her voice was weak. I had already walked past them so I sat down on the next bench. Maybe I missed part of the conversation. I remember smelling grass. I think I was allergic to freshly cut grass as a kid.

  “I thought you loved me.”

  “I don’t know…” The leaves shifted in the wind and I could hear that too.

  “I love you.” A pause. I was across from a boulder that had this flat slate-like shape like a kiwi slice or something. I remember once I ate too much kiwi and my lips started to sting like allergies to freshly cut grass. The boy tried again to kiss her.

  “No, stop it.” She turned away from him and sat on the edge of the bench with her head in her hands. It was like a movie melodramatic I mean but I think she meant it anyway.

  “I love you.” He repeated what he said before.

  “Please leave me alone.” I could hear them but I didn’t want them to know I was listening so I would only look over in their direction intermittently. Her voice was stronger now but cracking so then her voice was cracking as well as stronger. The sun was setting and the lighting changed like Monet.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” He stood up and looked down at her and made fists with his hands. “Fine. Bitch.”

  She didn’t say anything. The boy looked awkward so he walked away. I heard his keys jingle as he moved. I sat for a while and watched her shake lightly. I remember thinking that most of the other benches were empty.

  “Excuse me.” There was another voice.

  I looked to my right and there was someone sitting there with a fly-fishing hat and a beige trench coat and a pair of those gloves with the fingers cut off at the middle joint.

  “Excuse me, I just won the lottery. Would you like to come with me to celebrate?” He smiled and there was a large gap between his front teeth.

  “What?” I suppose that would be the default response to a stimulus like that.

  “I’m kidding. It’s just a bad pickup line. I think I saw it in a movie somewhere.” Out of his coat he pulled a brown paper bag and used his fingers to unscrew the bottle cap. “Take a swing?”

  “No thanks.” Another default reply…

  He lifted the bag to his lips and tilted his head back. I could smell the alcohol. “That’s one thing that always amazed me. How we say no to things all the time.”

  Next I noticed his caked mud boots. His jeans were tucked inside and they were laced up to his knees.

  “Perhaps I could understand taking whiskey from a stranger. Although I think I could become pretty amiable with anyone whom offered me a swing of J.D. But even bubblegum, if a friend brandished a stick of gum, most people’s gut response is ‘no thank you’.”

  I remember yawning for some reason. I felt rude about it and quickly covered my mouth.

  He laughed. “
It’s ok. I didn’t disturb you to bore you with crazy new ideas. I wanted to tell you something you already know.”

  “What?” He kind of reminded me of the guy in the café. The one who said ‘Kant’ is pronounced ‘cunt’. I think maybe it was his face. “What are you talking about?”

  “Here’s the story. I might not look it now but when I was 17 I was considered a bona fide genius. I had been in gifted programs since first grade, was breaking 160 on IQ tests, and was accepted to university early with fifteen or twenty college credits already under my belt. You know, the usual spiel. I think at the time I wanted to be an astrophysicist. Those were crazy days. I remember I used to do differential equations in my head.”

  He tried to pick at something between his teeth. He looked at his fingernail and then started talking again.

  “But then I fucked it all up. I got my wires crossed somewhere and bailed on all of it like wine coolers. I went to the wrong school, studied the wrong subjects, hung out with the wrong people. Nothing has worked for me since then; just look at me now. It’s been one rough hangover.”

  He put the bottle between his legs and lifted his legs up parallel to the ground. Then he looked at me and dropped them.

  “My point however is this. People have destinies. Good or bad, they still exist. Don’t try and change it. By changing it you’ll only end up in the in-between state. There is nothing worse than living a life that looses its meaning at such an early age. Believe me, for a long time I tried to rebuild mine. Futile struggle.”

  He looked down at the palms of his hands held over his lap and repeatedly closed them into fists and opened them. But he stopped just when I was about to speak. I think I might have formed a vowel with my lips. “Wo.”

  “No… I know what you’re thinking. Or rather that you’re not thinking very much at this point. It’s ok. Expected. Healthy even. Don’t think about your destiny, just accept it.” He lifted the bag for another drink. “Would you care for some now?”

  I just shook my head. The smell wasn’t too appetizing.

  “Of course not.” He smiled and his bearded face wrinkled.

  “Ya.” At least I said something.

  “Well then I will be going.” He stood up and straightened a fold in his jacket out. “Good day.”

  “Bye.”

  And with a nod he turned and proceeded down the park path. His right leg was limp so it would drag a little on the ground as he moved. Drunken people are always saying weird stuff to me at bars so I didn’t think the conversation was so strange. I stood up, thinking of walking back to my car, when someone tapped my shoulder.

  “Excuse me.” This time it was the girl from the bench.

  I turned around and then she was in front of me. “Hi.”

  “Excuse me.” Her eyes were red so you could see the vessels course with blood. Then the rest of her face turned pale implying a lack of blood. “I’ve…”

  “Are you ok? You don’t look so good.” I said.

  Her knees weakened and she began to collapse in front of me. I grabbed her arm but it did more in awakening her than supporting her fall. “Yes… I don’t know...”

  “You should sit down.” She dropped on the bench and I sat down next to her on her right. She smelled like cinnamon. Like they put in muffins and things.

  “Sorry to bother you but you looked familiar. I guess I’m not doing so well at the moment.” Behind her the sky turned purple. I think maybe purple is the color of the in-between state. (atomic swap)

  “It’s ok.”

  “I don’t know what came over me. Shit I don’t even have a ride now.” She put her hands in her hair and stared at the ground. Her lower lip was tucked inside her mouth with her front teeth biting down on it. I thought I should maybe try to help.

  “I have a car; I can drive you if you’d like.” I guess it was odd that I used a semicolon in conversation.

  “No, I’ll figure something out.” She took out a pack of Benson & Hedges. It had a gold box and said ‘Special Filter’ on them. “Do you want one?”

  “No thanks, I don’t smoke.”

  She put one to her lips and held it there. Then she pulled the filter from the cigarette with her teeth and spit it out. She lit the unfiltered version with a green bic lighter.

  “Are you sure you don’t need a ride?”

  “Ya, I’ll be ok.”

  I didn’t know what she wanted from me but she seemed ok now. I thought I should get going so I stood up. “I’ll see you then.”

  “Bye.” Her hair covered her eyes but I could see the glowing embers of the cigarette tip.

  I started walking back to the parking lot. She kind of reminded me of this one time I was traveling abroad and I dropped my hat in a supermarket. A high school looking girl said ‘mister’ and pointed at the floor to my hat. I picked it up and said thanks and she turned away. There was really nothing else to say.

  “Wait!” It was the girl again.

  I looked back at her. “What?”

  “I didn’t think you would go.” She stood up and put out her cigarette with the underside of her shoe. “I… can I still get a ride?”

  “Sure, come on.” I stood and watched her walk towards me in white shoes. Then I took my place at her side as we proceeded to the parking lot. Her shoes were white and I had trouble figuring out how close to stand next to her. I mean these social situations are touchy when there are only actions without memories to explain them. But I suppose it was all just in my head.

  “How do I you know?” She squinted at my face and I tried not to look back. “I’m sure I’ve spoken to you before.”

  “I dunno. Maybe on the street somewhere.” I didn’t recognize her. I usually will forget people’s names and where I know them from but I don’t usually forget their faces.

  When we got to the car I remember wondering if she knew I was there. I mean me, not just some random person. (vehicle) I opened the car door and then opened her lock so she could get inside. She spoke staring out the window while I ignited the engine. “23 Auburn.”

  I think she was talking about her house number. I didn’t know where that was. I was happy cuz the car started on the first try. “Can you give me directions?”

  “Sure.” She tapped her fingers on the glass. “I even remember what we talked about. You were trying to explain how you didn’t recognize your face. When you looked in the mirror you didn’t think it bore any resemblance to whom you thought of yourself as. You wanted to take an eraser and make an empty hole where your head is. You said that to me.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever thought that. What are you talking about?”

  She paused and looked at me and I think I had almost messed everything up cuz there was a momentary lapse in conversation. I remember stretching back in the seat with my hands on the steering wheel and looking at her across the car with (the) radio between us. “Sorry. I guess I was mistaken.”

  #

  The roads were dark. I was trying to drive safe but the streets they twisted and they curved so the future was uncertain. I turned my headlights on. She was giving me directions and I asked her, “How much farther is it?”

  “Just another mile or so.” I could see her cheeks red in the passing lamplights and her arms that were braceleted and white and bare.

  I remember driving under a bridge and thinking once my mom told me you were supposed to make wishes when you go under a bridge while a train is passing by on top. I guess maybe I should have said that out loud but I didn’t. (lamp post at night) The roads were still dark though even with my headlights on.

  I made a left and a right and another right through some suburban neighborhood with homes that looked like they were built from the same Lego box but with the colors all different. I mean those old-skool Lego’s where they made you use bricks instead of those fancy new pieces. “Stop over here.”

  “Here?” We were in front of a place that had the porch light on and the shadows would change in the car as we approached.


  “Yes. Thanks you.” Her hands were on the door I think trying to find the lock but it was dark and unfamiliar and hard to find I guess. She was fumbling for the car lock.

  “It’s over here.” The rental car didn’t have the electric kind so I reached across her and she froze for a second as I unlocked the door. I pulled back my arm and waited for it to pass.

  I tried not to do anything wrong. I remember she was looking at the floor beneath the glove compartment where the toll change and gas receipts and caked mud always collects.

  “Ok?” (stretch marks from backseat excursions)

  “Thanks. Thanks for the ride. I appreciate it.” The door opened and the air currents reminded me taking naps on couches next to open windows during spring showers. “Um… Do you want to come in for a bit? I have some Pop Tarts.”

  Pop Tarts were a strange thing to offer. When I was a kid I never liked the frosted kind. “No thanks, I’m rather tired.”

  “Ok then. Bye.”

  “Good night.” She stepped out and gestured with her hand before she closed the door and walked towards the house. I think it was a wave. I couldn’t see her very well because the porch light made her a silhouette but I remember the black void in the light that was she. After she went inside the porch light turned off and I turned the radio on and heard static and tried to find a good station. I remembered that in France they have boosters all over the country so that the same stations are everywhere. Someone had asked me once why America wasn’t like that but all I could think of was that maybe it had to do with the sacredness of the independent press or something.

  I was scanning by this one station that said the time would be 8 and then beeped a couple times when I saw the door open again and someone came out. Then the porch light came on and I could see it was the girl from the park with her shoes in her hands waddling towards the car while she tried to put them on at the 8 o’clock tone of the radio. Her silhouette again came up against the car and I unlocked the door and she got in and barked the door shut. “Go.”

  She was staring at the house with her hand on the glass fingertips frozen still. As the car rolled forward I looked over at her and thought it was weird how the background through the window was moving and yet she was still there. (fishbowl) Someone came out of the house but then he scrolled right and he was gone. I watched the road ahead and started driving. I could hear her breathing. Her breathing over the radio talking.