FLASH FICTION:JACK WENT out Friday night as if he'd never seen a small town. He met a smiley boy and mean girl by a church steeple.
“Yo dawg lookin’ to connect?” the boy said.
The slang embarrassed Jack. A city boy knew better than to fall for small-town hustle, but he played along to get in with the girl, whose cherry eyes promised better. She gets it, Jack thought, but this guy doesn’t.
“Hook me up,” Jack said.
He bought enough stuff to light him up like a jukebox. Bubber and Annie invited him to party with them, share what he’d bought. Music equipment lined their studio, and hip-hop posters covered the walls. Jack knew which rappers the boy’s style was meant to remind him of only Bubber reminded Jack of no-one famous, he reminded him of a thousand anonymous kids hanging out under overpasses in a city.
Jack took his time getting high while Bubber went for broke. Annie hollered every time she took a hit of vodka or spliff. She grew bold, staring at Jack while they waited for Bubber to pass out. When they were sure he was asleep, Jack said:
“You look as familiar to me as a hand in front of my face.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Annie said.
They left the studio to party small-town style. They laughed at gutter balls in a bowling alley. They played darts in a bar where regulars gave a bad vibe. They drank lemonade and smoked cigarettes by a dumpster. When everything closed they went to a beach where they rolled down sand dunes and lay giggling at the bottom. A million jewels heaped in a black velvet bowl overhead.
“Bet you don’t see that in a city,” Annie said.
“Seen ’em and studied ’em,” Jack said. “We’re looking back in time.”
“You’re stoned,” Annie said.
Jack disagreed. “A star that died a million years ago, its light only reaches us now. The further away a thing is in space, the further in time.”
“You blow my mind,” Annie said, chewing her face off.
Jack continued. “The opposite must be true, the closer a thing in space the closer in time.”
Annie rolled on top of him. “There’s no space between us now,” she said. “We’re in the exact same moment.”
Jack’s breathing quickened. “We’re centre of the universe.”
Jack wakes up alone to find last night compressed to a single moment he’s forgotten. There’s sand in his shoes and shame in his heart.
Outside his window, a church steeple seems significant; perhaps he’ll go to the square next Friday night, to meet small-town boys and girls, and invent reasons why one smiles and another looks mean. In the meantime, there’s no point going anywhere. It takes no time at all to cross from one side of town to the other, but if he stays indoors for a week, it’ll seem to last forever. Small town, small time.
