Excerpt

Chapter 1

The Bride

He had written to her just before he sailed for America. The Queen's Pride was his ship, and he loved her. (That was the way his sentences always went: It is raining today and I love you. My cold is better and I love you. Say hello to Horse and I love you. Like that.)

future

i wanted to get pizza tonight, pizza hut, but i fell asleep and couldn't get up after i woke up and I think it's too late now. I've been trying not to spend money because I have to for dentist stuff but i'm not sure that matters now. I also have been eating like shit lately but whatever for that too. 

Groceries

I bought my kids some ramen this week. It's a snack that they break up the noodles and then poor on the spices and eat it dry. I only got it for one class but Halloween is almost here so I thought I'd get other classes some little thing like this "my-joo" which is a chewy candy they really like. But I also got some cookies n cream chocolate nuggets. And some golden Oreos (which I was told to pronounce Or-ray-ohs). I only gave one class the myjoo candies because I decided to eat the rest for myself. 

Breaks =(

I have no breaks this week. My Kinder break while the kiddos are in gym is eaten up by Halloween activities and my Elem break tomorrow is eaten up by phone teaching. And all my other breaks I'm teaching new kids or Director Lee and I really just want time to sit and read! 

Safely Reckless

I find my keys just to lose them again. Or I lose them to find them. I usually put them on my fridge, but some days, I just toss them on my bed as I head for the bathroom to wash my face. And that's usually when I lose them. They fall in the crack between the bed and the wall or they don't sail far enough and get kicked under the bed or they wind up on the end table with my dry groceries for the week like peanut butter, crisps, and ramen that is meant to be broken up and eaten without cooking. However I lose them, they're always gone for a day.

But this is Korea. I leave my door unlocked (though I pretend to lock it) and come back and nothing has ever been stolen. 

Songs

I don't have much to say today, but here's a song I've been listening to a lot since I've been rewatching Scrubs.




Superman by Lazlo Bane
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gQjFHxJ9IKs


Actually, here's a list of all the Scrubs songs I really like


Question by The Old 97s

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XEwFik6ObJs

Fighting for my Love by Nil Lara
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RVbvwvSo9qY


Have it All by Jeremy Kay
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gKOupz_XlBQ


Alive with the Glory of Love by Say Anything
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I7rYZjv3wNg


Dreaming of You by The Coral
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cj6QztiHkFY

Cold Coffee

I only drink coffee cold, I've decided. I can't take the piss when it's warm, but chilled with condensation running to the coffee table, I'll drink it. I'm not sure I enjoy it though, but that's how I can drink it.

After grocery shopping this morning, I left out some k'hawah because I bought rich caramel and rich mocha choco and I couldn't decide which I wanted so I kept out both till I just drank one, the rich caramel. Then I fell asleep. But by the time I wanted the rich mocha choco, it was as warm as the room. So I stuck it in the freezer so I could have it sooner. But I fell asleep again, despite my heart attempting a prison break. When I woke up, it was caffeinated slush. I like it like that best.

Some of the classes laugh when I tell them "Don't copy off, May" or if they've forgotten their workbook, "Go copy my book," because Korea doesn't have an F in their language and the closest sound is the P so they pronounce "phone" as "pwn" and "coffee" as "copy." It's especially satisfying when one walks in with a new phone and they say "I just got pwn." My nerd senses tingle. 

Banana Hammock

I have a lot of good ideas about where the story is headed. I'm going to write tonight and this weekend. I was afraid the plot would be too predictable. And reminiscent of Mario: go to a castle, rescue the princess, the princess you're looking for is in another castle. And it is. But the character conflicts are wonderful concepts. So much struggling. 

Scary

I might be going to a movie night at the boxing gym on Saturday. Scary movies. 

Wireless Chocolate Haircut

A five-minute, five-dollar haircut, lightly dried by towel and hair dryer and it's never looked better, except maybe in high school in those two pictures I took that looked good so I used them for profile pictures forever and even tried to use them going into college when I was obviously quite a bit older than the pictures. Maybe I've taken a few decent ones since then too, like today.

Today, at the chocolate "factory," the kids were especially affectionate towards me. They always like me, but today I walked into the school and everyone grabbed my legs and hugged me and chanted "Hair-son-teach-uh!" The new desk-teacher (Connie-teacher is sadly leaving) already has an enormous opinion of me, I'm sure. But at the factory, everyone was sitting next to me, dribbling out chocolate sauce into what was meant to be my name, hearts, stars, or whatever else they thought I'd like. I got so many pocky sticks and cookies at snack time. One kid had 13 oranges. I got three from him and three from other kids. They were small oranges. Tangerines maybe? But anyway, the kids were so happy that I was present, that it made for some good photo ops. I sat at a table, just waiting for the other classes to get their mandatory photo taken in front of the building so the parents know where we went, and Pink class, who had already gotten their mandatory photos, were arguing about who'd sit on my lap and who'd sit next to me and where I'd sit and so on. When I settle them down, stopped the fighting and such, they were so happy at the arrangement that Director Lee stopped his photo-taking of Dolphin class to snap one of us. Even the woman in charge of the chocolate factory got her phone out to take pictures, probably for their Facebook. Sometimes I feel like a good teacher. 

I also got a wireless router. It's not great but it's all they had and it'll do. 

I'm sexy and I believe it

It's midnight thirty so I'm counting it as Wednesday, though I haven't slept yet.

The field trip tomorrow is to a chocolate factory. It seems like it'll be a short one so we should get a while off before Elem starts. Sometimes we get less than our usual break between Kinders and Elem; sometimes we get two or more hours off. I like those days.

In other news, today was a weigh-in for boxing. I'm still at 69.2 kg. I started at 69.4, went up to 70.2 and now I'm at 69.2. But the good news, if we trust the machine, is that my fat content is down 2kg and my muscle is up 2kg. My initial weigh-in was still the best though. I don't trust the machine.

But I like to think I'm sexy. 

my nightmare

I just chipped a tooth or pulled out a filling. I need the dentist but ill probably have to ask for a morning off now. Great. 

Long and Neurotic (and hard hehehe)

Next week is Halloween celebrations (glad I looked at the calendar to check) and it's Market Day. Everyday we're meant to give the mildly behaved kids 5 stickers. If they're really good, give them 10. If the lesson is over and we have another 15 minutes left, I sometimes play games with stickers as rewards. I've given out a 15 x 16 sheet of stickers once. I thought I'd get in trouble for it but apparently LA did that regularly with his classes when he still worked here. It was kind of a fuck you to the school since he didn't care for them. 15 stickers are equivalent to "1,000 won," I think. It's hard to say for sure since none of us native teachers have seen a Market Day yet, but even if they are worth that much, the prices of everything on M-Day are jacked up so a pencil costs 1,000 when you could get a pack of twenty for that at Lotte Mart.

Also on that day, we're meant to tell kids scary stories, dress up in costumes, and do the Halloween musical and songs&dance. When I was still thinking the Halloween celebrations were this week, I panicked and looked up a hundred stories and started reciting them because initially they told us we had to spend 10 minutes telling the story so I was testing the length. 10 minutes is a long time to talk especially to memorize something they'd understand. But now that responsibility has fallen to England and Minnesota since they don't teach as many classes as Australia and I. Minnesota has 2 Kinder per day, England has 0, Australia has 3, and I have 4. :l I'm starting to think I'm getting shafted and I should ask for more moolah but I missed my chance. I should've done that when they were hurting for native teachers a few months ago, or at least asked for a level schedule. I wouldn't've done it anyway. I'm a chicken and I don't need more money.

Though I still worry about money. I shouldn't. I really shouldn't. I don't buy shit and I hoard my savings like Dickens thought the Jews did. He was a bit racist. He used the Stage-Jew and Stage-Black in just about every story. But I just transferred 3,000,000 to my parents to stick in my account (which was a huge panic for me and I went in three times and basically watched TV as I waited for their number at each teller to tick to mine and when it did, I'd ask "English?" and they'd point me to the one lady who did but she was the busiest and so I left after watching a Korea soap because I was running out of time in my head where I have to be super punctual and early, not in reality) and I have another 1,200,000 (do my big balances impress you? *ahem* please ignore the exchange rate) still in Korea and I feel like I couldn't go through that money in a month if I tried. Even with bills and boxing and everything, I'd have to travel every weekend or go out for Western style food every night (Pizza Hut maybe?) or buy a whole new wardrobe (which I might for fall/winter work clothes, though not 1,200,000 worth). God, that was some awful exposition. But when the talk of "costumes" came up, I was immediately worried about spending money. I'm cheap. I know I am. Only for myself though as I spend like $100 on my friend if I think it's a funny gift (I bought us matching Sex Gongs that we'd ring every time we got lucky and we liked to think the other could hear(did not actually ring it because of sex except the one time I was explaining it to a lucky someone)). Luckily the school has costumes. I'm not sure what they are, but I'd rather be dressed dumb than spend money (and probably still be dressed dumb).

While practicing the Halloween musical today, my favorite Dolphin student has recently been taking a shine to me (Rachel from this post where she told me she loved me in the midst of giggles) and she fell off her chair because the song required the kids act like ghosts and she rolled her eyes back and just lost her balance. She was fine and laughing about it and we went back to singing but I couldn't hear her screechy voice above the rest of the students like I usually can. I looked to her and she was turned around, biting the back of the chair (maybe sucking on it). I thought she might've hurt her mouth or lost a tooth or something but she really was okay. Then I panicked because maybe she was hurt that I didn't spend more time doting on her because she take quite a tumble onto hard tile. Or maybe I had done something else without realizing. She wouldn't talk to me though which is weird because she's generally pretty vocal. I clowned a bit for her and it got a second of smile but nothing lasting and I held out my finger and she grabbed it and held it but still wouldn't talk to me and even Luna, the most likely to be a K-pop star, couldn't comfort her or get her talking. But Chris, this little shit (and I mean that in a good way) who I go back and forth on because he can be funny but he's not cute and he doesn't have a sense of timing, was apologizing. Chris often goes too far and makes the girls cry. I don't know what he was apologizing for but eventually Silvia-teacher came in the room and Rachel, Luna, and Chris all went to talk to her. I never found out the story, but I felt awful Rachel couldn't open up to me. I like to think we're buddies.

I'm planning on getting a wireless router tomorrow or Wednesday. I'm sick of not having internet on my phone (how will I update my Angry Birds!? Or download the newest Temple Run clone?) and they have them at Lotte Mart just a skip away. But I'm worried I won't find them easily and I'll have to ask and they won't understand me so I'll just go away and order it online and be stuck with shipping fees and they'll call me (costing me another meal at McDonald's) to say they can't deliver it to my apartment because they don't understand the address so they need my school's address, which worries me because I don't want to send packages to the school. They're completely okay with it but in my mind it's a burden on them or unprofessional or something. I'm not ordering big floppy dildos or candy or anything. I've ordered a power converter and possibly a router but still!

I have a lot of doubts and worries people generally reassure me that I'm just nuts. It's comforting.

Maybe I'll have a song of the week. Or a song for today. This week's is Frank Turner - If I Ever Stray. He's my current musical obsession.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SVx2RuANAyk&feature=c4-overview-vl&list=PL9DFD9715052F30D0 

Big Fucking Buddha

Well not that big. And the Buddha looked a bit more Korean than others, but all cultures do that. When people reprinted and restored The Last Supper, the disciples took on the appearance of whatever ethnicity the restorer was. If the restorer was Italian, Jesus looked Italian. If he was British, Jesus looked British. If he was German,Jesus looked Italian. He also had a perm. I think most Buddhas do have that curly hair, but why? What Asian culture has curly hair? Indians? I really don't know. I haven't seen any. Just some with waves, not tight curls.

It was peaceful as shit up there too. There were areas just ten meters from us that were noisy as fuck but we went up a few steps and it seemed like everyone shut the hell up. It was just acoustics. It was just England and I and we got to wondering where the Korean high schoolers went for "alone time," you know, sex. Because people are everywhere. There's nowhere in public you wouldn't get caught and even making out is a no-no for these conservatives, which is fine. No PDA except those hideous matching outfits. Seriously, they'll wear identical clothes that should be burned, like Bill Cosby sweaters, and they're the same size usually. that PDA's annoying too. High schoolers can't meet at someone's home because it's not culturally acceptable and the apartment's so small that if the guy's any good with his tongue, the girl's moans are going to be heard by every agashi in the building and those grey-haired ladies bent over like a question mark will be smacking someone with a cane. And they don't have cars to do it in.

I don't think England will be leaving Korea any time soon. She seems stable enough which is good because I don't need more work since I only have one break a week left except everyone gets a break. I asked her anyway if she ever thought of leaving but she said other than being bored already, she liked it just fine and she liked Korea enough to stay for it on the weekend. She didn't turn the question back on me, but I thought about it and decided I probably couldn't leave even if I wanted and I'd just stay till I was miserable enough to kill myself and then I thought it wouldn't the first time and I meant it like it wouldn't be the first time I stuck with something I hated, like AP Biology, but the thought came out like it wouldn't be the first time I offed myself hahah I really started laughing at that.

The pictures didn't turn out well I bet but maybe the Big Fucking Buddha did. It was probably only 10 meters high.

Ch. 7

“I need help.”

A gust coming from the open window slammed the door behind me. Nickel roused from the chair in our flat. When we had found it on the curb, it was a dusty lawn chair with squeaky hinges. Now it was a recliner with a compartment for keeping bevs cool. They went in as warm tap water and came out as Grouse scotch, single-malt. And he called it science. He saw I was only carrying a few bags of groceries (Walkers and Wagon Wheels and whatnot) and plopped back to his rest. His smelly feet went up with the pull of a lever. “You’ll manage.”

“Not with these. With the Ostrich. She hasn't even mentioned being an alchemist. She sooner admitted to aspirations of prostitution. How am I to convince her take my help?”

Our apartment stank of him. I don’t know why! He showered every day and when I used the toilet after him, the soap always seemed wet with a few suds still. I even plucked curly hairs from the ivory bar and I forced delusions upon myself that they were from his armpits and not the pit in his undies. But his natural musk returned within minutes and clogged the place and my nostrils. “She’s probably just waiting till you've had some pillow talk before she admits it. You Americans aren't the most tolerant bunch about it. You’re free to the apartment. I always find other beds.”

“Can’t you take over? I’m never going to get to pillow talk with her.”

“You’re not a cuddler?” The grocery bags that cost me 5p apiece rustled as he grabbed some crisps from them. He didn't care for the flavor I chose, jalapeno and cheddar barbecue, so he clapped his hands on the bag. As it popped, an aroma of sour cream wafted into the air. “You got her to like you, right?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I can never tell with these things.”

“She’s cute, right?”

“I guess.”

“You two are running daily so she has at least got a body. And a butt. Right?”

“I don’t look.”

“Do you like her?”

“No!”

The crumbs and salt got lost in the mat of chest hairs. The tangles probably had a compost pile forming. He brushed his shirt clear. “It’s been three years. You’re allowed to look.”

The open window wasn't enough ventilation so I turned a fan on. The chills killed the stench particles each night but then he’d shower and new ones, stronger ones came on the attack. My biggest comforts were my morning runs and my daily six-pack of Coke. Sweets were my thing. He preferred alcohol so usually he didn't touch the cans.

“If it’s a nice butt, look. How’s it any different from porn? You look at porn, right?” he asked. “Never mind. We share a computer. People don’t use proxy sites for Facebook. And she’s the one who told you to move on. After years of tracking her by some vague blip in data on a blog, how do you know it’s not some web-crawling spambot reading your love letters? Or some guy in Korea who stumbled upon it and uses your basic English to practice his? How do we know it’s her? We don’t even know if she’s alive! But we know she doesn't want your help.”

“She just doesn't want to ask,” I said. “Sometimes people ask for help and it screws everything up.”

~

It was a week after I made the blog for her when I saw her come on Skype. I immediately said: hey

: Are you okay?
I got your email
and I read the blogg
Blog*
You seem pretty exhausted
jet lag?

Me: Yeah and good and yeah. I mean, getting back to the States I adjusted in a night because I couldn't sleep on the flight from the coffee IV I’d taken to get me through customs and boarding but two international flights in a week really did me in. Coffee’s not much of crutch when you’re giving a piggyback ride to an elephant of sleep deprivation.

: what?
two flights
?

Me: I was walking my pooch when I realized I’d left my lucky moose underwear back in Wales. Had to go back for them. Least, that’s what I told the customs officer who asked why I was returning so soon.

: Why are you
in Wales?

Again
cory…

Me: I’m not. I’m in Germany. I’m here to bust you out. I don’t have a plan or connections or any idea what I’m doing, but I’ve got a massive credit card bill headed to my parents’ house so I really hope they’re not too mad but I left them a note saying they could sell my car. I don’t need it.

: stop
You’re not serious
i don’t want jokes

I was sat at the cafe near the alley where she had said goodbye and I couldn't and I had spent the day crying till my ducts froze and a policeman asked me, in German first, to leave. The cafe had piss-poor WiFi and piss in the coffee.

Me: No jokes. Except the coffee IV. That’s not a real thing. Too bad. It’d help with that god awful taste, especially that K'hawah stuff you like. Too bitter.

: Im not in Germany anymore.

Me: Then where are you? I'll be right there. I need a shower though so hopefully there’s a hostel or guest house nearby or maybe an ocean. Are you near the ocean? I'll just bring some biodegradable soap.

: I said
we’d stay in touch
when I could
and
I promised
to check the blog
But no
I won’t do this
You getting involved
directly involved like this
it’s the worst thing that could happen
Go home

Me: I’m out of money.

Anaa assifah

Ismee Harrison

Maa Ismuki?

Min ayna anti?

Anaa min Illinois. 

 
  

For you

This is a collage of what the students have given me. 

Yesterday I brought quite a bit home, but there's more at the office I couldn't fit in my pockets and some I just didn't remember and others were little things and a lot of it has been food like the choco pies.
But here's a list:

-A drawing of some Korean girls in hanboks. Had they added color, they'd be blondes, guaranteed.
-Two origami boxes, one made from red paper, the other made from the folding instructions
-Balloon helicopter we made in science class for Kinder
-A balancing alien ball we made in science class for Kinder
-A balancing bird my favorite Elem class gave me
-Tea bags
-Choco pies (I bought that box but they've given me more than a box-worth)
-A dolphin keychain from Thailand
-Headaches
-Apologies
-A lot of smiles

Ch. 6 (early)

The Pentland Hills were just south of Edinburgh. Though their rounded, grassy peaks were only half a kilometer above sea-level, they felt like mountains to my Midwestern calves. My world traveling hadn't beaten that from me as I often rode buses, cabs, or the shoulders of an Australian bloke.

But after a month of running up, following Nele, I was trim, which meant I was perpetually late to meet her each morning as I posed, flexed, and took shirtless selfies. I posted the best to my blog which got little extra traffic but I imagined the dedicated visitor got extra joy from their perusal. By the time I was slim and toned enough to start posing, I was an integral part of Nele’s morning routine. And so she waited. Nele was an Austrian with a Swedish name, pronounced nee-luh, though I didn't use it much. Austria in German, her native tongue, was Osterreich and so I often called her The Ostrich. She was blonde and fit and she had a fairly neutral accent as she had spent a few years teaching English in hopes the work experience would allow her a job in America. It didn't.

“So what’ll you do for work?” I asked when we had reached the summit. We only chatted when I needed breath. I knew a lot about her.

She stretched among the heather. She touched her toes, twisted, did the butterfly, and all sorts of other positions that her leggings allowed. The first day, I had run into her I hadn't expected we’d run. I just knew she was often in the Hills, as many were, and thought it was for a hike so I’d gone out in jeans and a jumper as Scotland in September was nippy. My clothes had not allowed for her stretches so that first wet morning I had to watch her bend in leggings as I chatted her up. When the fabric got wet, it got transparent and she sat right on dewy grass. Australia was better suited for this Austrian but she ran early and he was not an early guy. He was a late guy, rarely starting his days in the AMs. “Prostitution always possible,” she said. Her smile was crooked but infectious even during times of shock. “It’s perfectly legal and acceptable where I’m from. My best friend did it for a year but couldn't keep up with her studies so she had to drop the job or school. She pick up a medieval literature course instead. She works on a vineyard now. But I couldn't do. I joking of course.”  Sometimes her tongue slipped grammatically.

~

When I got back to the UK from Germany, while in the Manchester airport, I made a blog and set it to private so only people who knew the URL could find it. I couldn't think to post much as I was nearly asleep waiting for the ticket lines to open and it was only 3 AM and they wouldn't start till 6.

i'll write in this everyday and itll be boring a lot but maybe you’ll realize that I’m never giving this up and never moving on and even when I dont have internet like tomorrow i'll have a hundred queued posts that’ll go automatic

i love you

About Chapter 5

I wrote it in an emotional rush initially. Most of it was done but the important stuff wasn't when I felt I needed to finish. It's mostly unchanged, but I fixed the typos. I think it's honest. Maybe read it now that it's a bit more polished.

Chapter 6 will go up tomorrow and 7 when I finish. No set schedule for writing at the moment. Just when I can.

EDIT: Literally just posted this but decided Chapter 6 goes up now. So yeah. 

Ch. 5

I was out the door the minute I saw the email, which was only by luck because I couldn't sleep from too many coffees that I took only to get myself through these final exams since the Brits went months without assignments and suddenly, or not so suddenly if I paid attention to the syllabus earlier in the semester, there was a twenty-page paper due about how John Donne's poem The Flea was paced similar to sex which was a brilliant observation but a bit awkward since there'd be two professors marking it and one was a hot Italian and the other was a warty old man with false teeth. I was a bit hyped up. So I got up and checked my email for another teasing message. 

Instead I saw "Please let this email ring your phone and wake you. I know I just saw you yesterday and I'll see you again Thursday but please...could you come to me now? Where we first met."

The email didn't ring my phone though because, to save money, I had kept my US phone instead of getting a British phone and, again to save money, I had turned off cellular data since it was priced thirty bucks for twenty megs which meant downloading the monthly update for the Facebook app (that I hardly used even in the US) cost thirty bucks for bug fixes. So I saw the email by chance. Or fate or psychic powers that only exist during times of intense wishing. I saw it only ten minutes after it was sent. She had never asked for anything, not even advice or if I was free this weekend or that. Everything I did for her was my own idea. And though I had promised I'd do anything, she said she never needed anything and that I did enough by just listening to her complain about her family. I replied, "OK" and ran out the door. 

Then I came back and grabbed a flowery little box that I meant to wrap but never found a place that sold paper. 

~

After our victory, we got on a coach with Bonnie headed for Edinburgh. We were the only ones on the bus and we sat in one row with Bonnie and Nickel paired so their knees touched. He had a scrape on his elbow. It didn't bleed, but it was a bit red. 

"You really saved me," she said to him putting her hand on his shoulder. 

The grumpy driver almost kicked me off when he saw my busted face. My nose had bled so much that it looked like O Lord High Lord of the Fairies had smashed a tomato to it. And it was crooked and my eye cut and shirt stained and knuckles raw and I reeked. 

"I'm not really sure how to thank you. I've never had someone rescue me before." Before we left, we had gathered her belongings from her room and she had changed to a top that let her bosom breathe a bit more as it was sheer and low-cut. 

"No worries," Nickel said. Nickel smelled ripe too but that was his usual hygiene. And Bonnie wasn't much better, though her stench was sweeter. "Maybe take us to a pub next time." He spent a few minutes inquiring about her life and she was quick to tell him how she was forever alone though she was quite a wild girl on Ladies' Nights and soon he was out and she stared at his curly locks and lanky good-looks. I sat across the aisle, holding some stolen panties to my nose. They soaked up blood well. 

The windows were dark. We swerved between stone fences, some collapsed, and sped up hills and sometimes the engine would go quiet near the top and we'd slow down and it felt as if we were rolling back down but then the engine growled and got over the peak and coughed on the other side. 

"What'll you do now?" I asked. "You got anyone to stay with?" 

"I don't really know. It's all so sudden."

"Life's like that," I told her. Outside the window, under a street light at an intersection in a rural town, a sheep with blue paint on its back crossed the street and went toward a ditch. It was bright with grass. The ditch was flooded from recent rains. The sheep got swept away and drowned. They were stupid animals. 

  

"I had a pretty good life before. My uncle wasn't so bad to me. Rude and demanding, but no villain. I had money for beer and a lot of food and a place to throw up. Now I don't even know where to go. I know he saved me and all," she said looking to Nickel drooling against the window. "But I had a pretty good life before."

"We saved you." I was pouting. I never got any credit. Screw them. They could go off and have smelly babies together for all I cared. 

Nickel and I got off at Edinburgh. Bonnie kept going into the Highlands. Before the coach left, she asked me through the window, "Why'd he try so hard to save me? We're practically strangers." Nickel was already wandering toward a hostel with a bed. 

"We thought someone else might've been there." 

The coach crept through the quiet hamlet and Bonnie shouted, "I hope you find your girlfriend!" loud enough to wake everyone but the stupid sheep. 

~

Soon I was in Germany at a cafe that was closed and all the chairs had been taken inside. The streets were lit by electric lights but soon the sun would be coming up. A sprinkling of snow filled the grooves between cobblestones. The wind swept it away. 

My heart had stopped its fervor on the train over, but it kicked up again and I could feel it in my big toe (the left one). It wasn't from a caffeine overdose though. I had my hand on the box and folded scrap of paper which got crinkled from handling. 

I called her. "I'm here. Is everything okay?" It was an emergency and she was distraught but when I heard her voice, I smiled. All she said was "Okay."

My eye was green from boxing. I had hoped it'd darken more by Friday but since we were seeing each other early, it'd have to do. She'd ask about it and I'd tell her this daring tale of a friendly bout between me and an amateur champ and I'd punch and duck and weave right in the street to display my bravery. Only a few details might get fudged. Like he wasn't the amateur champ, just some bloke.

We were together thirty minutes later. "Sorry for making you wait," she said. I didn't tell her my tale and she didn't ask about my bruise--maybe it was too dark to see. It wasn't too dark to see hers. We sat in an alley between the streets where the wind didn't reach through the cracks in our clothes. I had brought my coat but it was cold enough for layers. I should've checked the weather. She wore what might've been all she owned, but each layer was thin save for the penultimate one, a sweater I had bought her. It was thick and fleece and admittedly not her color, but I hadn't known then what colors would look less than stellar on her. I hadn't known colors like that existed! But I guess there was at least one, and I had found it. Still, she was beautiful. And the ugly sweater was covered by her coat, except the collar. 

"I'm the one who made you wait." I was killing the conversation with my quietness, but nerves were killing my ability to link words. I had to shove them through my teeth and so they came out in excited shouts. "Hours in fact! Only because no one's invented a teleporter yet. You're smart--you should get on that." 

"I'm glad the email woke you." The streets were dull and lit by the reflection of street lamps off swirling snow and frosted store windows. She kept peeking out the alley. "I have to leave a little earlier than I thought. That's why I called you out." 

"Where are you going? Back to Balochistan?" I asked. 

"Don't worry about it." 

"I wasn't really worried. I was just curious." 

She was lost in the slanting shadows. "I'm sorry I'm not saying much. I called you out but I can't even talk. Sorry. I had to see you again. One last time."

I fiddled with the flowery box. It was sealed with a ribbon that I rubbed till it was frayed. I had untied it after the clerk had done such a neat job of making a bow but I had to look at it daily to remind myself that she'd love it. "It doesn't have to be the last time. Come visit some time. You can stay at my house. Even in my room. My bed's plenty big but I like to cuddle." I gripped the box. "Or you could just come with me." 

She glanced out to the street as someone walked by. They looked back but found us uninteresting and kept walking. "No. This is it for us. So I thought I'd give you this book. To remember me. It's actually something I stole from our library. It's a real alchemy book. Very old. I've read it about a hundred times. Maybe you'll like it too. You're a curious guy so surely you'll enjoy reading it."

"Of course," I said slowly taking the book. I had to let go of the box in my pocket. It wasn't very big but it was very old and the leather was worn and taut. "You stole it? And what do you mean this is it for us?" It was a lot to take in. "Can't we be pen pals? I'll send post cards. I've bought about a hundred since coming here. And we can write letters and send pictures and there's the internet! And...and...why does this have to be the end?" 

"Cory, I'm getting married."

I dropped the book in snow ruined by pollution. I hugged her. "I'm so sorry." I squeezed some tears out. 

"This was always the end for us. You'll go back to America and you'll forget about me and you were supposed to forget about me after you went back to Wales that first time but you kept coming back and I should've stopped you because I was just making it harder on us but I was selfish and held onto this when I shouldn't have. I was stupid. I'm really sorry."

"Run away with me."

"I can't."

"I'll buy your ticket out of here. You really can stay with me but we have a guest bedroom and my parents won't mind. They've got plenty of food and you're so thin you can't possibly eat much. I'll go on a diet if they mind the extra groceries and you can eat what I normally would. I'll lose weight and you'll gain some." 

"I don't have my passport. My uncle has it locked up. It's like he knows I'd leave if I could." 

"So you would? You'd leave with me?" 

"I wasn't supposed to let it get this far!" 

"We'll go to Wales. They won't find us there and I'll get a job and you can too if you want or you can stay at home and you won't even have to clean unless you want to."

"Cory! Stop!" she cried. "I can't. There's nothing we can do. If I leave, it'll destroy my family. They'll be shamed. No one else will have a chance to get married and they actually want this life. They'll lose the business. It'll kill my parents."

"What about you? Huh?" I yelled in a whisper. It was crazy how self-conscious we were even during distress. Social mores and norms weighed us down when we just wanted to scream about how fucking stupid everything was. Especially the platypus. "You're going to marry some guy whose name you don't even know! He'll force you to have kids. I know you don't want kids unless you can adopt a cute Asian baby! Your wedding night will basically be rape! and it'll be your first time! I know it won't be special no matter who it's with but this is absolutely nuts! Your second relationship shouldn't be forced marriage!"

"Please calm down!" She was in tears. Her big beautiful eyes were red and weeping. "You shouldn't worry about those. They're my problems. I'll be okay!" She put on a gorgeous fake smile. 

"What about me!? I won't be okay!"

"You'll move on. You'll find someone else. Just let go now and it'll pass." 

"I'm telling you it won't! Ever!"

"You think that now because you're in the moment, but please just try to get past this and you'll see. You'll be okay." 

"I don't want to be okay! I want to be with you! I want to be happy!" I sat in snow so my butt was wet. 

"It'll be okay." She sat with me, put her arm around me. It was the most touching we had really done. We never hugged. We never kissed (I always wanted to but only suggested it jokingly because I was scared if I seriously offered she'd say no and if it was a joke it was okay for her to say no or to say nothing like she usually did). And now we were wrecks and she held me. SHE! She was about to be traded off to some family friend as repayment for helping their family start in a lucrative business endeavor. She was payment! She was money to these fucking idiots! She was worth a helluva lot more. And yet she was trying to comfort me. What a woman. What an unbelievable woman. God, I love her. 

"It'll be okay? For who? Not for me! Not for you! Fuck everyone else!" 

"I'm sorry." She retreated into the alley, to the dead end. "Please don't be mad. Not you. You can't be mad at me. I don't handle fights well and you're the one person who can't be mad at me." She sobbed now and wiped at her cheeks but the tears kept coming. Mine were freezing to my wispy scruff.

I sucked up a big wad of snot which flapped around in my nose and throat. I either had to spit or swallow. I swallowed to spare her the disgust. "I'm not. We've never fought and we never will. I'm angry at them. Your family. Your stupid fucking family." 

She said something but it was in a whisper between sobs. I told her I couldn't hear her and I leaned in closer. She smelled great. Why was I thinking that? Why was I thinking about the taste of skin or the color of her nipples? Why wasn't I thinking of a way out? Why was I thinking about sex when the woman that I loved and wanted to marry was crying right in front of me? Was I that big of scum? Or was sex just consolation for tragedy? "I feel like I ruined your life." 

"No," I resisted. 

"I never thought you'd react like this. And I never thought I'd let this go so far. But you seemed to care about me. You were always honest and sweet and funny and charming and a little arrogant but you weren't afraid to tell embarrassing stories or say weird things. And you never really said much about it, but I always felt like you really..." She trailed off. "No, sorry. Not now. I can't be embarrassed to admit it now. You have to know. I always felt like you really loved me. And maybe I just wanted to think that because I--because I really loved you too." 

"I do." And I couldn't do anything. I had my hand in my pocket for warmth and felt the box and felt it crush down to the cheap little metal ring that would've turned her finger green but she would've worn it anyway because she has a generous soul. She was perfect. And I told her that. And I talked to her in every way that I knew how. I was sweet. I told her funny stories. I hugged her--a lot. I cried and I apologized. I recited poems I had memorized and summarized stories that I liked and suggested authors that were happy and funny and maybe she'd like them. And I talked about us as though we still had a chance, though it felt like fantasy too often. "I love you." 

I promised her I'd start a blog and fill it with all the things I'd normally say to her and she didn't have to comment or anything, but she could read it and her husband or family or whoever wouldn't get suspicious because she read lots of blogs. And I wouldn't give out the link to anyone and I'd check the stats daily and when I saw that there was a new view, I'd know she was still reading. And I told her I'd write something everyday if I could, even if she stopped reading and she promised to never stop reading and I promised to never stop writing but she made me promise to stop if I ever met someone and moved on and she also made me promise to try to move on which I did, but I was lying. Sorry. 

Finally we had to say goodbye. I wanted to kiss her, but I couldn't. I couldn't give her the ring. And I couldn't say goodbye either. She did. Instead I was quiet, crying still, and thankfully it was sunny and the frost on my cheeks had melted. And when she was nearly down the alley, I yelled, "I'll save you! I swear to god I will! Please don't stop believing that." 

~

Nickel and I had the room to ourselves but we had been assigned beds. I had bed two and he got bed eight. Ten were empty. There were stale bread crumbs in mine. 

"That's another lead that led nowhere," he said. "Think we ought to give it a rest?" 

"No." 

"It's been three years. The ceremony might already be done." 

"Maybe."

"She might not even be alive."

"I don't care." I was nearly asleep. 

Then he asked, "Why are we trying so hard for this girl? It'd be easier to just let her go. Out of sight, out of mind. Start to move on. You did all you could and more than anyone could've asked. Maybe it's time you go back home." 

I was quiet, brooding over an answer, fighting off practicality that was hard to hear but easy to refuse. "No."

"Why not?"

"I haven't even seen her naked yet!"

The bright side is I realize I'm not a heartless bastard like I wanted to be (because I thought it was cool) in the 6th grade. That doesn't mean there's no hope. There can be pain and hope together.

I'm editing ch. 6, writing ch. 7, and making notes for ch. 8. It's a good arc. 

photos

I look good

Or not...

Ch. 4

The first wave of brutes fell atop each other but the next batch trotted down the groaning slope. As they charged, I beat them back so they cracked their brain-buckets against the stone walls of the dungeons. I took quite a few knocks to the skull too, from fists and clubs and even a shoe that had fallen off a guy and been picked up by another in confusion. I was stood in the lead doorway to the jail, defending Bonnie and Nickel. “Will you actually help this time?” I asked.

He lazily rose and stomped the dusty stone floor. For a second the guards enjoyed traction under their black military boots, but spikes formed so that it was like they were stepping on the pointy end of nails. A few were lucky and just got toe rings, but most spikes pierced the soles and then curled and hook into the second or third metatarsal.  

“How is that not magic?!” I yelled and clobbered a guy who wouldn't go down so I hit him till he was ugly but by then he was out cold. He had just been kept standing by the nails in his feet.

“You think refrigerators are magic.” Nickel touched their Kevlar, which turned to liquid, and quite a few of the commandos went commando that day, and the ones wearing just white undershirts were revealed as big fat liars on the muscle-to-body-fat ratio they put on their medical forms.

Only one or two guys could come at once so it wasn't much of a to-do but I was getting tired of dealing with them while wiping away the blood that dribbled across my lip, eventually making my scruffy chin itch, but my nose wouldn't stop flowing thanks to that damn shoe.

Soon the guards were down and only O Lord High Lord of the Fairies, Uncle Bonnie, was left witnessing our excellence. But there were enough goose eggs and crushed ribs as evidence should anyone doubt our story in the pub later. And if they still didn't believe us, we’d force them into a reenactment. That’d impress them. However, Uncle Bonnie cared little for the results. “You boys sure are impressive,” he droned. The floor raised and tossed the unconscious goons aside and where Uncle Bonnie stepped steps formed till he was at our level.

The bodies blocked us into the cell, which was an easily defensible area but difficult to escape with a worthy, if ancient, enemy in front.  He clapped his hands and the floor spikes returned to flat dusty stone with a few chips near the corners. The water evaporated to steam and sweat dripped down my back. He was old, well-practiced at his alchemy. He knew as much as any master, including that Nickel and I would have him beat the moment we made a move.  “Are you familiar with the milka? It’s a secret amongst even most alchemists. A tradition lost on the younger generations. Most think it’s just ceremony for women to prepare them for pregnancy and marriage. But it requires a bit more than iron and carbon and water and gold. The reason many are just ceremonies is they forget important ingredients. But you boys have brought us two of what we were waiting for, and Bonnie here can finally be useful to us.”

“Hey, I clean all the toilets.” She was still lying down, chained to the bars.

“Most alchemists are happy with one child after a milka,” Uncle Bonnie said. “But Bonnie will be having twins. Powerful ones it seems.” The old man eyed us. “Your souls are greatly appreciated sacrifices.” He slapped the wall and the fluorescent tubes on the ceiling lights morphed and the white opaque coverings were soon purple. When they lit up, a trap was cast upon us. “There are a few rules placed upon an alchemist. He cannot change lead into gold or anything for that matter, and he cannot escape a demon trap.”

O Lord High Lord of the Fairies Uncle Bonnie was outside the trap with all the powers of the cosmos at his fingertips and each alchemist inside was sapped of their magic, which was really what kept them standing despite injuries.

“I think a third rule is forks on the left, spoons on the right,” I said.  “Or is that backwards?”

“Are Americans always crass, even when desperate?” he asked. “See the two uneven rings? This trap is specially engineered to transfer your souls to my niece’s womb. Give it a few minutes and you’ll feel even your mouth drained. You can die with dignity, in silence.”

That was good for a chuckle. “Desperate?” I walked towards the door, towards the edge of the black lit square at the edge of the trap that kept all alchemy inside.

The geezer was on the other side, grinning, safe from any alchemist’s wrath. I grinned right back. Our teeth, both sets a bit crooked and yellow, reflected off one another till he was unamused by my defiance. I wiped my still dripping nose. It was a bit tender to the touch.

“You know, I don’t know a bit of alchemy.”

His smile disappeared completely.

When I was done with him, I tossed one of his Italian loafers at the lights to free Nickel. Glass speckled him but he was the better for it. And my rage had passed from giving a noogie to the old man. He wouldn't be punished or anything, but at least he’d wake up with an aching crown.

~

We were having a hard time and we wouldn't speak about it. She had trouble with that so she didn't say much at all. It’s a petty observation, really, but she looked good even when sad. She looked better smiling and even just content, but still her sad eyes looked nice too and when she pouted her lips seemed fuller, more kissable. Maybe it’d cheer her spirits. I still hadn't admitted anything though, though I was constant chatter today. I was surely repeating a few funny stories, like my starving dog and waffle story, but she didn't comment on that. At best, she’d smile when I looked at her for a response and then she’d say sorry and I’d say sorry too. I was leaving for America in a month.

“We’ll make it work,” I said smiling, hoping it was as contagious as the cold we shared. “There’s Facebook.”

“I don’t have Facebook.”

“Skype?”

“My webcam’s broken.”

“We can still talk with it.”

“All you’ll hear is a buzzing.”

“That’s okay.”

“Okay,” she said.

She didn't have any coffee today. It was a frigid day. I had offered my winter jacket since she just had her fuzzy ear muffs and leather jacket cinched with a scarf and not even gloves but she didn't accept it. I offered my coffee—I could finally stomach it if there was a lot of sugar and whipped cream—as a hand warmer.  She was looking away when I offered and just said “No.”

“I’m sorry I have to leave,” I said.

“Okay.” She tightened her scarf and adjusted her fuzzy earmuffs.

“No, I mean in a month. I've already got the ticket and my parents want me home for the holidays and I haven’t seen my dog lately and I have this list of 20 foods that I haven’t had while in Wales. Pretty much everything at Taco Bell is on the list.”

“I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.” It was very cold today. We were the only ones outside.

“I really am sorry.”

“We knew it was coming.”

“I didn't know you’d be upset,” I said and leaned on the table and sucked on my straw. The sunken cherry clogged it. “Guess that means you kind of like me.” I tried smiling at her again.

“I’m not upset,” she said.

“Oh.”

Some Christmas shoppers passed with bags hung from the tips of their fingers. Germany had decorated its streets, though not in the gaudy way America does. There were white lights strung from street posts to another nearby. Small trees were erected and covered in tinsel. Advent calendars were advertised in windows, next to shoe ornaments and little candies. The rooftops were barren but the breath of shoppers fogged the air.

“Maybe we could do something to celebrate Christmas,” I said. “I know you’re not Christian. Me neither, not really, but it could just be a good way to say ‘It’s been fun.’”

She considered the suggestion while staring at an overflowing trash bin. “What do you want?”

“A lap dance?” I joked. “No, but really, anything. We could even make the gifts! Or have it be something cheap.”

“Okay,” she said.

“Okay to a lap dance?”

It was the first real smile I got out of her that day. The polite smiles didn't count. “Maybe. It’s a surprise.” She breathed into her trembling, purple hands and I offered my coffee and she put her hands around it. And she sipped it and left her lipstick on the straw.

“I need to know so I don’t get you a lap dance too! That’d be embarrassing. For everyone watching.”

“Who’d be watching?” she asked. She couldn't hide her teeth anymore. I had pulled her out of her funk and it all it took was an inappropriate joke about her lovely behind. It had a nice shape that was unexpected as she was quite thin. I wonder if under her shirt was the same.  

“I assumed we’d exchange gifts at a cafe. Where else would we meet? So all the coffee drinkers would get a show.”

She loved to tease. I think because she knew I liked to be teased. “Then I guess I’ll have to think of something that won’t get me arrested for doing in public.”

“We could go elsewhere for a change.”