The end was not something that I’d ever imagined. He said that it would be painless, and I believed him. I could smell the dirt as I closed my eyes and fell into him. He absorbed my flesh with absolute precision. Falling, my stomach dropped, hollow. I felt the electrical signals of my nervous system pulsing throughout my body. Scared of what could be, I pulled away, distancing myself from him.“Isn’t this what you want?” he asked as he burst into dust. Clamoring for something tangible, I reached for the particles as they drifted to the ground. Realizing that I had nothing to hold as the dust settled on the cold linoleum, I sighed and let myself fall to the floor with an enormous thud. Desperate to understand what was happening I began sifting through the vague exchanges from the past month. Where to begin, I thought? That’s when I heard a slow shallow knock on the door. I bent myself into child’s pose, collected what I could of myself, rose to my feet and flung myself toward the rapping. Without thinking to peep through the fish-eye, I grasped the cold metal handle and pulled slightly inward until the chain caught the weight of the oak.
“What the hell are you doing here?”, I said indignantly. “I was in the neighborhood and I was tremendously bored. Can I come in? I brought wine.”, he said with a suppressed sort of sadness. While letting out an extended and deep sigh I closed the door enough to release the chain from its position.
“I'm not going to fuck you”, I said with a resigned exhaustion that he ignored, like countless times before, as he breezed past me. As he made his way to, and around, the kitchen I could hear the grains of sand crunch beneath his shoes. He didn't seem to
notice, however, as he opened every drawer and cabinet in search of the ever elusive corkscrew. This step in our dance never ceases to amaze me.
I could help him of course but I find it incredibly satisfying listening to his memory betray him. It’s dark I know, but we’ve been through this routine countless times and I’ve learned that it's no use settling into any other emotion. After the third or fourth time around the kitchen he broke free of his routine to gaze inquisitively at the soles of his shoes. “What’s this about Marlowe, have you given up on yourself?” he asked.
“No, you fucking asshole”, I exclaimed as I contorted my face in frustration, “That shit, whatever it is..is…what’s left of Max”. “What do you mean?” Nim replied with a sigh. His reply was the farthest thing from heartfelt, it was, maybe, apathetic at best. I didn't expect anything more to be honest. It's just not in his wheelhouse to be emotional or supportive. I'm generally okay with this, and have been for years, but today I'm not sure this holds true for me anymore.
“Exactly what I said Nim, it’s what's left of Max”, I replied tersely, “It’s a strange and unbelievable story, if you care to listen”. “Help me open this wine Marlowe and we’ll see how I feel after we down a little red”. I rolled my eyes as I exhaled audibly with a passive aggressive roughness. I knew that this maybe was most definitely a no, and that his evocation of hope was merely a manipulation. Despite knowing this, I fell into the moment as he handed me a glass. “Cheers”, I said feeling hypocritical as I clung to my self imposed resignation.
I sipped clumsily from the mug and let the wine seep through the crease of my lips. The wine, oddly enough, was just what I needed. I could never admit this to Nim, of course, because he’s always looking to manifest his ego. Then just when I felt the tension release from my limbs, like that of a falling yo-yo giving way to gravity, he spoke to me. It wasn't Nim, but someone else. It felt familiar, the voice, as it filled my body with a deep and unwavering shiver. I closed my eyes to settle into the chill of each word more deeply.
“The remnants of my fall are filling the gaps of his shoes”, he whispered with a despair that is usually reserved for the terminal. The shiver grew deeper as I realized that this disembodied voice resembled, or was, Max. I wasn't certain, but my body seemed to carry a knowledge that my mind was blind to.
Ashes to ashes I thought as Nim began pinching the back of my arms, much like he always does in times that steal his attention. “Shit, you mother fucker, go to hell”, I yelled as I choked down the warm wine that was lingering in the pouches of my cheeks. “Oh, you know you like it”, he replied cheekily. “Seriously, stop that shit Nim”, I said with an annoyance that seemed to echo.
Sick of his shit, I rolled my eyes and walked away. My apartment isn't particularly large, but the wall between the kitchen and my sort of living room provided the space I needed to breathe. I fell onto the sofa, spilling a bit of wine on my shirt in the process. Not missing a beat, I instinctively stuck out my tongue and began slurping at the fiber like it was some precious metal about to fade. “Gross Marlowe” Nim word vomited with disdain, while slowly undoing his belt. Trying to avoid the eventual decay of my boundaries I ignored his comment of disgust, and moved my attention to the depth of my wine as if I were measuring the height of high tide. Realizing that no measurement could resolve the inevitability of inebriation I lifted again, as I always did, gulping delicately as to not reveal my commitment to the inevitable. Peering cross-eyed over the rim of the glass as it eclipsed my field of vision I let Nim, and the loose belt blur into the background.
I could hear each tooth of the zipper as it was slowly relieved of its grip. He was trying to impress me with the deliberateness of his movements despite my obvious resistance to his obnoxious mating dance. Trying to distract myself, I returned to the grains of sand. It was like Nim to leave without notice; he was always in and out of my life. He was no different from Max in that respect, slippery, but this time was different. He remained cocooned between these walls, nestled in the layers of conversation for weeks. His presence didn’t rattle me then, but in this forced reflection, a new sensation was beginning to take shape. Why? I asked myself impatiently as if the answer could be manifested. Waiting for the answer that wasn't easily provided, I became distracted by the popping of the little blue uppers that Nim was crushing on top of my bookshelf. I opened my eyes to his bare ass and the squeal of his credit card as he divided the 10mg tabs into uneven parallels. “This is going to be one of those nights”, I said with an exhausted exhilaration. Nim didn’t say anything, but instead gave a little nod as he grabbed his dick and passed me the telescoping one dollar bill. Like Pavlov's dog I became wet with excitement, hoisted myself off the couch and sauntered over to the other side.
The sound of the slightly worn visa card as I slid it across the surface, exacting my line, sent shivers down my spine. Bending my head over I inhaled, exhaled, and committed to the irresistible temptation that is Nim. An easy distraction from the dissipation that has resulted from Nim’s violent disappearance.
Nim didn’t bring the usual accoutrements but was ready, nonetheless, for a night of fucking. He grabbed my hair as I came up for air, wiping my nose trying to rid me of any particles that escaped the vacuum of inhalation. I closed my eyes as he pushed me
into the desk. Feeling wretched and wrecked, I absorbed every shock as he destroyed the remnants of my will. I split as he whispered, “Do you want another hit?” to the valley between my shoulder blades before abandoning what was created against the plaster. I shivered with vulnerability and dropped to the floor. Desiring to be nothing more than an exoskeleton I began to crawl. “Ashes to ashes”, I repeated as I crawled with desperation to my liberation. As the rug burns took shape on my knees I ran open mouthed into Nim. Sensing this as an invitation he took a fist full of my hair, brought me to my knees, and drove his dick deep into the abyss that was my voice. Twice and then released, that’s all that was needed to complete the transaction. With my hair still tightly wound in his hand I returned to the sacrament that would be my release. “Ashes to ashes”, I whispered as I inhaled.
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