present, and future selves Staring together in unison

down the server’s beautifully exposed spine. The music
was tinny. We didn’t know anyone and no one knew us.
We couldn’t Stay.

On our walk down the hill to Big Bad Johns, a
Street person asked me for smokes. There are some at the
courthouse, on top of the garbage bin, I told him.

You really think he'll go all the way over there? Scru{l asked.
If he wants them bad enough, I said.

Inside, the bar looked the same as it always did.
Sure, the ceiling was a little higher, the lighting
a little brighter, and there was no sign of the guy
who looked like ChriStian Slater, but otherwise
it was the same. Bras Still hung from the ceiling,

peanuts littered the floor, and they Still served
XXX beer. I didn’t recognize anyone there, but
that didn’t matter I already knew them all. We
wedged ourselves between two groups of people on
a backbench and waited for the inevitable vaude-
ville performance to begin _ the Strangers and
Staff engaging in a series of separate and unrelated
acts that somehow fit together, as if on a common
bill. A teen with a tummy top and Stretch marks
came in and out of focus while a dwarfish blonde
woman made eyes at you. A group of dejected
patrons were too drunk to Stay awake. A business-
man sang along to country songs while twirling an
open umbrella.

That’s bad luck, I said. The blonde came over and
sat with us. Her name was Kontrell. She smiled at
everything you said. ‘The girl with the belly shirt was
her siSter, Klorine. Scruff and I tried to dance with

Klorine but she was too skittish. She told me that she
had a baby and I told her that I did too. I showed her
pictures of my cat. You and Kontrell kissed delicately
beside me while Scruff and I held your hand. We
thought it was the funnieSt thing, but neither you nor
the fellow on the other side of us thought so. Maybe
they’re trying to have a special moment, he said. While you

were in the bathroom Kontrell Stood on the table. She
was so short no one noticed. They also didn’t notice when
she picked up the businessman’s umbrella and broke it
over her knee. It took her a few tries and she had to twist
it back and forth for all the wires to come loose. Then
she lay it gently on a bed of peanut shells as if it were a
dead animal.

Who did this? the businessman demanded. He had such
sadness in his eyes, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
He looked at me for a long time, as if he could recognize
me if he looked a little longer.

We didn’t talk about anything important, see any deer,
or feel the cold on our walk home. InStead we ate hot
dogs and watched throngs of people spill out of the bars
and engage in that closing-time mating dance, appalled
at how young everyone appeared. Kontrell had given you
a piece of paper with her number on it, and you asked
passersby to sign it with your favourite Pilot G2 pen.
Excuse me, pardon me, can you sign this? No one really noticed
us. One fellow appeared to be friendly. He offered to sell
us drugs and then in a swift movement that neither ofus
even noticed he threw your pen to the ground, shattering
it to pieces. It wasn’t malicious. In fact, it seemed like he
was doing us a favour.

As we passed the courthouse, I retrieved
the cigarettes from the top of the garbage
can, pausing as you and Scruff walked
on ahead. I watched the two of you
walk for a while, your breath
forming little clouds as you
spoke. ‘Then I hurried on and
caught up.

Tere Ny)
“ed.