Roger Brown

Roger Brown woke up to the mess of sounds coming from the

television in the other room. Roger’s presets had all been turned on, and
there were fifty-seven channels on concurrently. As Roger walked into the
living room the channels illuminated according to the direction his eyes
wandered, and so the morning weather expanded 25% larger than the other
panels of video.

The ten-day forecast called for highs in the 20’s, lows in the single
digits; at night going below zero temperatures.
“Today I have a doctor’s appointment. The weather will be considerably
warmer than yesterday, so I should wear something light yet comfortable.”
Roger’s internal thoughts were direct and rational. He lived on a series of
rituals which kept him from making mistakes, rituals which kept him in line
and on time.

Make the coffee, take the shower, brush the teeth (even though I
brushed them last night I need to be fresh for today), drink the coffee, eat
the breakfast – because this is the most important meal of the day. Roger
parts his orange hair to the left. Roger had blue eyes, he wore glasses which
he bought in his twenty-ninth year. Roger’s nose curved up, the top lip
reaching above his front teeth. Roger wore a tan suit he bought at J.C.
Penny’s. The tie around his neck had geometric designs, and muted colors.
The tie was given to him as a gift for his service as a “terrific” number
cruncher. He had been wearing the same black shoes for five years, every
year he’d replaced the sole.

There was a message waiting for Roger. He pressed a small metallic

button, and an instant message appeared in the air: Happy Birthday! From
all of us at Alpha Dental! Roger was thirty-six today. After washing his
hands he drank a glass of water in a chipped glass that he had always
wanted to throw away.

It was ten-thirty by the time Roger exited the doctor’s office. Roger
had given ample notice to the company on his doctor’s visit today, he was
not worried about arriving late. Roger entered the office and sat down in his
cubicle, there was a bowl of stale popcorn from last Friday. Roger dumped
the popcorn into the trash bin, and allowed his computer to boot up.

Roger did not let other people on to his condition the entire day. In
fact, like every day, no one noticed Roger enough to barely give him a
reason to mention his plight. At a certain point in the day he thought it
might be considerate to allow at least one person know of his prognosis
(even his boss), but soon that moment passed.

“What should I do in this situation? I have terminal cancer, that I am sure of,
the doctor and his tests made that clear enough. The doctor gave me my
choices, my chances of recovery... he said, I have six months. What will I tell
Brenda? How will she react to this news? Should I even tell her that I have
lung cancer? Perhaps it’s best, at this point at least, to keep this to yourself.
No one needs to know of this news. It will be in my best interest, and those
of my co-workers, to never mention this again.”

Roger arrived home to Brenda, his golden retriever. Brenda was sitting
on the living room couch when Roger arrived home. Roger did not mind this,
but rather enjoyed seeing his dog so comfortable. Roger fed Brenda, and
filled her water bowl to the tip of the lip. The sun had set right on time, and
the heater clicked on before the cold could saturate the air.

There was the infinite on the video screen, a computer-generated

replication of Joel McHale reciting the words of the Communation, “See the
world. Smile at a stranger. Open the door for someone else. Stop and smell
the roses. Enjoy today, you never know what it will bring. Say ‘Yes’. Do
what your heart tells you. Keep hold of your dreams, never let them go.
Groove your body for ten minutes, three times a day. Eat more vegetables.
Eat more fruits. Life is short, stay awake for it. Go for it. Be the best you
can be.”

During that night Roger watched the film, The Bucket List, on channel
232. Roger made a list of things he wanted to do before he died. The first
item on the list: Visit a place you have never been to before.

The next day, Roger visited his local savings and loan. Explaining to
the clerk his situation, Roger’s job was relocating him to Utah, and since
there were no branches of this particular bank near the city he was moving
to, Roger needed to empty both his savings and checking accounts.

When the clerk asked Roger if he wouldn’t mind giving her the name of
the bank, he asked why.

“We can send your new bank all of your personal information, to make the
transition easier.”

“I would just like my money in my hands now.” Roger replied.

Roger left Brenda behind, as well as all of his personal belongings, in

his apartment. He drove his car to the airport and parked on the top level.
Standing in front of the streaming reports of flight schedules, Roger picked
the flight that was nearest to take-off and bought a ticket to Amsterdam.
“Would you like a complimentary blueberry scone, sir?” An overweight
employee of B&B Coffee floated next to Roger. Her folds of fat draped over
the contraption that aided her mobility.

“No, thank you.” Roger said, taking a sip of coffee.

The woman scooted away to the next person she saw. Roger sat in the
court across from the boarding gates. His thoughts were blank, his only
reactions being bodily decisions of when to take the next sip of coffee.

“Attention. Attention.” An electronic voice on the overhead speakers spoke.

“Flight 2631 to Amsterdam has been delayed due to snow storms. Another
flight is being re-scheduled. Please... Attention, Flight 2631 to Amsterdam
has been delayed due to snow storms...”

Roger stood up from his chair. He threw his coffee into the garbage
can and walked closer to the boarding gates for flight 2631. A video screen
displayed the cockpit of flight 2631, the pilot glanced at the camera through
his speech, “Sorry about this folks, it’s getting very hairy out here. We did
not expect this weather so soon, actually, so we are going to take the
precaution of laying low. We will keep you informed on our progress.”

The crowd dispersed from the video screen; some people sat down and
waited, while others called the airline to complain. Roger walked back to the
court and sat down in the same chair. The obese woman appeared again,
“Excuse me, sir, would you like a complimentary blueberry scone?”

“I’m not hungry, thank you.”

Roger began thinking about when the symptoms of his cancer would
become visible. For a moment he wondered if he should have taken the
doctor’s advice, and gone in for treatment. You’d think by now they would
have found a cure for cancer. I’m terminal, and if I tell no one about my
sickness, I can die in peace. That is unless the doctor submitted my
information to the Communation Board of Health.

“On the chance that the doctor did submit the information, I have cause for
worry. On the other hand, if he did not submit the information, I can forget
about my visit and move forward.”

Even if the doctor did submit the information to the board of health, do you
know how long it takes for that information to get processed? Months.

Roger scratched his ankle through his sock, but it still itched. He
pulled down his sock, and scratched the skin above the bone. Roger kept
scratching, soon he used both hands to scratch either side of his left leg.

A tourist group filed through the court. They were loud, and made
their presence felt with radiant talk of sun, water, sand, air. Roger’s eyes
followed the group across the court and to the boarding gate for flight 3250,
Isla de Chiloe, Chile.

Roger ordered a scotch and soda. The video screens displayed

commercials for hair vacuums, most people had their headphones on and
were attentive. The audio lowered as a soothing, female voice spoke
English/Spanish/Japanese into the headphones.

“Attention passengers, the current time is five o’ seven, our trajectory places
us at two hours from landing in South America. Temperature is 29.4 degrees
centigrade. Enjoy the rest of your flight, and if there is anything we can do
for you don’t hesitate to ask. Thank you for flying Air Obra.”

Susan Hague

Susan flew first-class to Chile. Although her lawyers advised her not to
take this vacation, she did it anyway. Many stressful events, and the
omnipotent “things” which made her life, began to pile up. The load became
too large for her to handle, and she needed a break. Her inspiration came
from the book, “Eat, Pray, Love”. Despite having the predictable seasonal
cold, Susan decided it was time to have an adventure.

Susan remembered a time, in her early twenties, when she believed in

love; mutual respect, admiration, romance. It was in that time she searched
for “intimate love”. Susan did not find romance right away, but when she
did, she learned of the heartbreak one encounters through young adulthood.

Susan found life easier once she knew how to play the game, she was
a ravenous lover. She had decided that the only way not to have ones heart
broken was to keep those persons of interest at a safe distance away.
Emotion was easy to manipulate, and physical intimacy was a sport.

“Excuse me, can I get through here?” The old woman seated next to Susan
had stood up.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sure.” Susan replied, and stood in the aisle.

“I have to use the restroom.” The old woman walked down the aisle toward
the ladies room.

Susan sat back down, and put her headphones back on. Love was...
fuck... she was thirty-nine and thrice divorced, but wouldn’t mind having sex
with someone on this plane... what are you doing? Stop it. Textile arts was
something that Susan became fascinated with in her youth, but over time
her interests spread to other ventures. Susan began to make clothes, not
only for herself but for people she knew. She read about village women from
Chile who made their living weaving bags. Despite reading about these
women from sites on the internet, Susan wanted to see them first hand. She
needed to visit the land where such fabrics were cultivated into three-
dimensional objects of worth.

Upon landing in Chile, Susan was robbed – someone stole her luggage
that carried all her garments. After getting in a taxi and checking into her
hotel, Susan was lead to a local clothing shop. She bought a few necessities,
and a nice dress that she wore to a restaurant that night.

The restaurant was busy, the bar was packed. Susan looked around
the restaurant and admired all of the faces she saw. In her journal she wrote
down her present journey, including all of her thoughts, feelings and
memories.

An older man saw Susan sitting alone, and invited himself to her table.
Susan did not object to his company, she was eager to become enthralled in
an interesting conversation with a stranger in a new land. The older man
introduced himself as Harry, and by his slurred speech, was obviously drunk.
Harry’s concentration was specifically on Susan’s thighs and breasts.
Despite his regal appearance, a distasteful lewdness appeared much too
quickly for Susan’s preference.

Susan politely asked Harry to leave her table, but he refused, and
began to fondle the inside of Susan’s thighs. She slapped him in the face,
telling Harry to leave immediately. Drawing attention to herself, the waiter
asked Susan if everything was all right. “Harry was just leaving,” she said,
and Harry disappeared into the bar. No one else came to Susan’s side the
entire night beside the check.

The next day, taking her rental car through the village, Susan shopped
at all of the stores. Eventually Susan found her way to Mitjanit, a small town
at the top of a hill – some twenty miles away from town. On her way to
Mitjanit, Susan spotted several women waiting at a bus stop on the side of
the road. At the bus stop the women were weaving bags and garments from
handmade cloth. Susan stopped by the side of the road and approached the
village women.

Susan spoke some Spanish, but her mere visual, hand-gestured

expressions told the women all they needed to know. Before she knew it
Susan was standing beside a tree, weaving together a portion of garment.
Susan got the hang of it, she was doing well by them. Later on, when the
bus arrived, one of the women gave Susan a small handbag as a gift.
 Continuing on the road toward the town on the hill, Susan came across
a man standing alone near the edge of a cliff. Susan drove past him, but
seeing his disposition, reversed her car and picked him up. The man
introduced himself as Roger, and together Susan and Roger drove towards
Mitjanit.

Burt Moran

Burt, a rancher from Mari dg, came to Mitjanit because he needed to

buy wool for his wife. Now, this rancher could have bought wool from his
neighbor – Alfonso – but Burt is not here simply for the wool. Burt is here for
Julia, the young woman that sells the wool.

Burt is married, but his wife, Catarina, is dying from tuberculosis - all
the villagers know this. She spends her days in bed, making sweaters, socks,
bags, hats, what have you, to keep her mind pre-occupied. Burt takes it
upon himself to purchase the wool his wife requests, so aside from
maintaining the crops and animals, Burt spends his time with the twenty-
year old Julia. The villagers are aware Burt is busy, but they only suspect his
relationship with Julia.

After purchasing his usual bale of wool from Julia, Burt entered the
barrio to order a drink. A group of local villagers watched Burt sip on his
beer. Burt smoked an entire cigarette before asking the bartender to watch
his things for a quick moment, he had to step out.

The men approached the bag, the bartender had gone into the kitchen.
Julia was not wearing any panties, Burt made love to her quickly but not
without proper lust.

“I want to leave with you.” Julia would always say.

“But I am married, you cannot go with me until Catarina is dead.” Burt was
buttoning up his pants.

“When will she die? Why can’t she be dead already?”

“She will be gone soon, not to worry.”

“Then can I live with you?” Julia sat up.

“Then we can live together, yes.”

 Julia hugged Burt, “When can I see you again? Not another two weeks,
that was too much.”

“My wife cannot spin all that wool, by herself no less, so quickly these days...
I will come for you tomorrow night. Pack your bags.” Burt kissed Julia on the
lips.

The village men persuade Burt to have another drink. They catch up
with stories, and news from other villages; Rick enters the bar and notifies
everyone of his treasure, I have just won two horses and two cows in a
bet, Let’s have a toast to fate!

The men are exuberant to Rick’s luck, and Burt is still feeling the fleshy
ecstasy from Julia. Drinks all around, let’s get a table.

The men drink all night long, and past the point of correct judgment,
they begin a contest of stamina. Burt manages to see sunrise through a
haze of alcohol and smoke. Some men fall over, others continue the drinking
contest on through today. In a quiet moment (because the guitar player had
been passed out for the last ten minutes), Burt confesses his love affair with
Julia.

Julia’s father, Leon, had been sobering up for an hour as he stood near
the table. Leon’s rage boiled up inside as he listened to Burt’s speech
dedicated to Julia. The eyes of the room fell on Leon, Burt did not seem to
notice for he continued drinking, I have never been so happy than when I am
with her. I mean beside how much I love her pussy—

As the morning sun edges on ten o’clock, Roger turns a corner in

Mitjanit, nearly tripping over the body of a man wading in a puddle of piss,
puke, and beer. Roger peers into the barrio, a very intense conversation
occurs in the middle table. Roger enters and listens.

As Susan finishes her purchase of a variety of wools, Roger approaches

her.

“Can I come with you the rest of the way?” Roger asks.

“I don’t see why not. You can tell me all about Curacao on the way back to
town.”

“Fantastic.”

While driving, Susan receives a page from an unknown number. They

stop at a gas station, Susan uses the restroom, and returns the call. Susan’s
sister has just given birth to a baby boy, weighing six pounds & eight
ounces. Susan says she’s sorry to not have been there, that baby decided
he wanted to be in the world earlier than we expected.

Susan walks out of the gas station to find her car, and Roger along with
it, missing. Looking down the road, Susan can see a long trail of dust.

In an American town, Roger stops at a strip club. He spends all night

drinking booze, the third lap-dance he receives makes Roger come in his
pants; he continues drinking.

Later that night Roger finds himself on the edge of a bar, sipping on
the umpteenth drink of that particular phase, talking to a woman whom he
deems attractive. “She has big tits, but they are not fat tits. I can’t notice
any disease prevalent – but then again I can’t see much in this light. She has
a very nice ass, and I am making her laugh.”

Natalie Hall

Roger takes Natalie back to her motel room and fucks her for two
hours before unloading his sperm inside her. Natalie says, “I got my tubes
tied after I had my first daughter. Before that I was a prostitute, my name
was ‘Cupcake’.”

“You are not a prostitute anymore?” Roger asked.

“No. I thought you were cute, I wanted to fuck you. No one forced me,
that’s the difference.”

“Uh huh.”

Natalie lights a cigarette, she cuddles up to Roger, puts the ashtray on

his stomach. “What about you, have any kids?”

“No kids.”

“Do you have a girlfriend, or a wife?”

“No... none of that. I had a dog once, closest thing to a companion one could
have.”

“What kind of dog was it?”

“Golden retriever, her name was Brenda.”

“You named your dog Brenda? Was that revenge or something?” Natalie
laughs, pulls on her handle of vodka, exhales a cloud of smoke.

“Are you happy, Roger?”

“That’s kind of a strange question to ask someone, isn’t it?” Roger replies.

“I don’t think so.”

“What do you want out of life?”

Roger stares up at the ceiling. Burrowing deep inside his brain he tries
to say what he wants internally first, but there are no words that spring to
memory. “Nothing. I’ve never wanted anything.”

“You gotta want something? You wanted my pussy, and you got that. Are
you satisfied with that?”

“I don’t know. I suppose if that’s what you call satisfaction.”

“Mother fucker! You’re god damned right that’s what you call satisfaction. It
was good—fuck—I’m drunk.”

“Have another drink.”

“Thank you.” Roger pours more vodka into Natalie’s glass.

“How much money did you say you had?” She asks, sipping on her drink,
lighting another cigarette.

“Close to fifteen thousand.”

“Shit, that’s more than I make in a year. You should stay with me.”

“Okay.” Roger replies, after no consideration.

The next day Natalie introduces Roger to her six-year old daughter,
Lydia. Lydia is courteous, kind, and speaks well. Her mother says that it’s
from all of the television shows she watches, because she definitely didn’t
get it from her. Roger begins to respond, but a sudden cough overtakes him
and he spits out a gob of bloody mucus.

After five months, Roger has spent all of his monetary resources.
Natalie still receives unemployment from the government, but occasionally
goes out on the job with big name clients. Roger is broke, and spends most
of his days sitting beside the pool, watching the lichen disappear from the
trees. Natalie tells Roger to get a job, so he applies for a position at a tin
production factory.

Roger and Natalie don’t make love as much as they used to, he never
tells her about Susan, nor his trip to South America. Roger makes enough
money to help Natalie pay for Lydia’s dance lessons. On Thursday, Roger
notices his cough once again. On Friday the cough continues to become
rougher through Monday, and onto Tuesday.

Natalie insists Roger see a doctor. Roger schedules an appointment

for the day after next. In the parking ramp, Roger sits in his car. The car
idles, the carbon monoxide wades through the humid air.

Roger leaves the parking ramp and takes the highway out of town, and
continues driving until he can’t go any further. When Roger can’t drive, he
walks until he finds a ride. When Roger’s gone as far as the driver will take
him, he continues walking; he sleeps for two hours a night; he eats grains,
plants, and a meal only when someone offers. Roger goes as far as he can
before the disease takes control over his body, and he cannot function
properly. In a corner, staring at tall grass, rushes, the insects hovering
underneath the incandescent light bulb; Claire, Susan, Natalie, Miranda.