Cygnus and Christopher

Chapter Seven

Back at Christopher’s house, Sylvia slept on the couch. An open book on her chest and a half finished glass of wine on the table beside her. A blanket covered her legs. Fluffy kneaded it, laid down, stood up, and then kneaded it some more.

We tried to be quiet on our way to the bathroom medicine cabinet. Our elbows and knees had suffered some damage on the ride home.

Christopher rode with eyes closed and no hands. For awhile he went along smoothly, shouting “A new record. It’s gonna be a new record.” I think it was. I counted this time. The old record dwarfed by the new one. But, then the wobbles came. The bike swayed from side to side like grass in a fickle wind. He did not grab the handle bar though, just tried to ride through the turbulence. But, the turbulence became too much and Christopher fell off his bike and into the grass beside the road.

I tried to stop and dismount to check on Christopher. The spins had got to me a bit I think and I fell during the dismount. From a few feet away I heard Christopher laugh. I guess he did not get hurt too bad. I laughed to. It felt orchestral, Laughter rising out of our bruised bodies buried beneath the grass, the moonlight, and bicycles.

Back in the bathroom, Christopher knocked over some pill containers when he reached for bandages. “Ah shit”, he said when things spilled onto the floor. The click clacking of containers woke Sylvia and she soon stood in the door frame, Fluffy in her arms. “You two enjoy the day?” Christopher knelt to pick things up. “Yes, beach was good.” Sylvia scratched behind Fluffy’s ears. “Thats good. Well enjoy the rest of your night.” After that she walked away. I knelt to help Christopher pick things up. Eventually we got stuff back on the shelves and then cleaned and covered our cuts. The bandages absorbed the fluid that leaked from my body.

No longer a threat to the cleanliness of the carpet we went to the basement. The handrail bent slightly beneath our collective weight. At the bottom of the stairs, Christopher hit a switch. The light flickered a few times, like distant lightning, before the room became fully illuminated. I looked out the sliding glass door, into the night, and then headed for it.

Outside a few stars mingled with patchy clouds. Some shone clear. Some through thin white wisps. Others obscured by thick clouds or by the distance between us. I walked across the back yard to pee on a pine tree. Soon Christopher came and peed on the same tree and asked a question of me. “You think the stars or this pine tree are more beautiful?” I finished peeing. Coyotes howled in the distance. An answer took too long to come out my mouth for Christopher’s liking.

“It is a trick question. The answer is us, ya know? The answer is all of it. It is us pissing piss on this pine tree beneath the stars with coyotes fighting each other out there. That is the answer. That is my answer.”

Pine needles brushed my arm, goosebumps rose on me. I shivered, in part believing I was a snake shedding skin. With eyes closed I visualized such an occurrence. Snowflake shaped skin cells drifting down onto the grass.

Post shiver a small howl floated out of me, long and slow. The howl disintegrated into a crackling whimper when the air in my lungs was nearing depletion. Outside my skin the air was mostly still. The coyotes were on a break from yipping. So, there was little audible noise to replace the howl. “Nice howl.” I walked back towards the house. “Thanks.”

Opposite the sliding glass door, Christopher’s chair and my chair sat unoccupied. My breath fogged the glass and blurred the basement. This dulling of the details allowed for me to project various memories into the domestic landscape; playing video games, getting drunk, fulfilling little dreams, sneaking in and out. It was not hard to sneak out of Christopher’s house. Walk out the basement, then walk back into the basement, that is all there was to it.

We weren’t much for vandalism. Typically we’d just drink, smoke, lay in a field, or meet up with whatever girl Christopher was interested in at the time.

“What are you looking at?” I am not sure how long Christopher had been standing, appearing slightly unbalanced, behind me. “A basement” I said.