thebox

The Border (A beginning to an end)

Lonely, cross-eyed with stars in them. Lost for words, empty. Vacant. Nothing, reaching, endless. Twenty hung there like... The border does this to a guy. Especially when a woman is on the other side of it. He hung there in the sky and stared into the desert night. The orange dark sky held the earth in a quite dream. The wet wind blew over the vast mounds of sand and vegitation. Tonight was humid with long deep gulps.

And he could taste her lips on the air. They were close, soft and breathed on his. "God. Focus. The border, a package, 48 hours... uuuugh." Twenty took a look around. He could hear faintly; jazz coming from over the hill. Couldn't be too many juke joints out here near the desert. "Jazz. Nice." The music swept and laughed his way. Twenty saw Sara wet her lips; breath in and let out. He saw the horizon and the night finally eclipse the sun.

Twenty started walking over the hill. The music became clearer and he could start to make out the sign in the dark. "E&J's." Looked like a 1 -level barn with a piano and a bar. People were hangin' out outside. An old man, a crew, a couple and a few others. Somewhere in there were the hunters; professionals and discreet. Old school.

* * *

The ceiling fan wobbled even as the hands turned slowly. The humidity was thick and the desert heaved. Red and Sly lounged away from the bar. They sat by the wall in the sparse bar. They weren't still, just in slow motion, the lazy night framing them.

"I got off lucky. Mexico was the first stop I made", Red started. Sly took a whole 2-man bench to listen - from his back to his legs, stretched out to the other end. He was hunched over and strummed his guitar a slow hypnosis. He seemed not to listen. Didn't matter 'cause Red had himself hynotised. "I was looking for a trace of her. A smell even. Fuuuuuck. Finding thar drop box was the first thing. Jules - you remember Jules. He had all the papers. Jules made contact with somebody. That somebody was supposed to tell me where to find her."

"I just needed a trace of her... something, and I would've found her. I had a point man in the department down in El Paso. For Jules' somebody, whatever he did or whoever he used down there, I would've fucking known!" Red broke his intensity and took in a breath. "I don't even know what happened anymore. And I don't know where she is." "You're killin' yourself man. She's gone. Maybe if it was meant to be..." A warm gust came in. Twenty pushed through the saloon's swinging doors and looked around. He saw the band playing to the side, the doorman having a drink with the bartender. Near the back wall, he caught the eyes of 2 strangers discussing. Thier eyes shot up like thieves and they stayed perfectly still. Twenty took a ride over to the table.

"I'm looking for a guitar player and a drummer." The two held his question for a long second. "That's us alright. I'm Sly and this is Red. You Twenty?"

Madrid. Take Me Home.

Darrel opened his eyes and rose to a groggy blur. The hotel room around him wasn't there. The memory of sleep was only starting to fade away to reality. It was 8:30 in the morning and his train wouldn't leave until 6:30 that night. Darrel got up and walked ordinarily to the shower. He left the shower to brush his teeth in the mirror. After staring at his reflection, he went to the bedroom and packed his 2 bags and drum, checked out of the hotel, carried his stuff down the street and stopped at the first open bar he saw.

The bar was small, sitting by a busy road. The facade was dilapidated, and inside was big enough for standing room only. There were 4 tables outside on the sidewalk - 2 chairs to each. After ordering a coffee and croissant, he drank the coffee slowly, staring for minutes at a time at the street and the people walking by. Then he saw himself sitting on the ground, head down with a pen in his hand, engrossed in writing the 5th page in a 300 page blank notebook. Then another image faded in. He was sitting on the ground again. Nothing had changed, but this time he felt more frightened. Next, he saw himself surrounded by hundreds of scattered pages, a messy stubble, and calm. He knew that was it. He knew it was over. His head was down, pen in hand, scribbling words into the notebook. He sat there for the next half hour, listening to the hum of traffic around him.

Montreal morning

I arrived in Montreal much earlier than I expected; 6:30 in the morning. I decide it would be rude to call my friend so early; 7:30 would be better. I walk out of the terminus l'autobus and consider my options. The second I walk outside, Montreal all comes in again. It begins with old brick store fronts that dot the quartier. The whole city is one big neighbourhood. I decided to walk about and see some of the old districts. The Theatre St. Denis is surrounded with urbane bars for all tastes. Further up by St. Laurent & Sherbrooke, I start to walk north, reach a cafe on an ajacent street and nest there with a cup of coffee.

Now I've stopped and the streets around me are moving. 4 old Quebecer men are sitting outside the cafe opposite to me. They are carrying on about their sons and pensions. A confused old bag lady passes by. Next follows a smart looking middle-aged brunette woman, crossing the street and entering a coffee shop. Two younger homeless people, a guy, a girl and her leashed bulldog come down St. Laurent and start milling about my little side street. They must be looking for money and this must be a stakeout. The girl walks up to me then begins.

"Je m'excuse. Es-ce que vous sais le Banque de Montreal"
"I have some... I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"Es-ce que vous parlez Francais?"
"Non."
"Do you know where is de Banque of Montreal?"
"No I don't. Sorry."

The couple huddled for a moment, turned the corner and continued down St. Laurent. They almost bumped into the returning old homeless lady. "Do you have any monnaie?" "Sure", I reply as I reach for my change. She took the money, then milled around the area for a few minutes. The city began to awake slowly. The 4 older men's conversation burst out into larger declarations. And the smart-looking brunette exited the coffee shop, crossed back over the street to start the day with her morning coffee.