Day 14 - Only Laugh - Chapter 13 (1,294 words)

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ONLY LAUGH WHEN IT HURTS

By Wayne Webb

CHAPTER 14

The fluorescent bulb in the exit light was flickering and making a loud clicking noise above their heads. It had been a long while since they had been here, but still this light was not fixed. This used to be the cheapest open late café that they could find, back in the day when doing a gig meant no money earned. Now it was a link to the past, that was why Jane wanted to come back to it to talk to him, to see if he was still in there. The original Tony, one hopefully who had not had any sense of who he was beaten out of him.

“What can I get you” The waitress was new, but then again they had seen a large number of staff go through this place while Tony was working on his act. The sort of place you didn't have to be desperate to work at, just desperate to work. Students, second-jobbers and plenty of people for whom a high turn-over low paying job after midnight was not as bad as the alternative.

“Coffee, black, thanks.”

Tony held up two fingers and mouthed 'please' to the girl who smiled and walked off, no notes required.

“Tony, I …” Jane was unsure what to say. Was she going to break it off? Was she trying to find a way to make it work? Was she assessing his mental condition? She didn't know. What she did know that doing nothing changes nothing.

“What's on your mind?” He could tell something was up, he suspected she had enough and was going to end it, but he was not of a mind to help her do that. If she wanted to go, then she should choose for herself. He didn't want to let her go, but if that was her decision, he could.

“What's on my mind? Everything.” Jane held her head in her hands and looked at him until he looked away, unable or unwilling to get into a staring contest, especially when there was nothing to see. “I don't understand what you are doing to yourself.”

“I'm not doing anything to myself, not really. I mean once, but even then I wasn't trying to, it was an accident. I didn't meant to hit my head so hard. Really. Didn't.” He was talking too fast, not really lying because the words themselves were true enough. He did know that he was in control of his fate more these days, but he didn't want to say it.

“Don't lie to me.”

“I'm not lying.” Tony sighed. “Not really.”

“When that bastard stabbed you I thought you were going to die. I honestly, truly thought you were going to die, in the ambulance, on the way to the hospital, the next day – I don't know, but it scared me.” Jane was crying. She had not yet told him how terrified she was that night. She had been coming to meet him after his set, to take him here for a coffee, and she saw him being lifted into the back of the ambulance, and almost fainted from the shock. The Club Manager had seen her and knew she was with Tony, she had picked him up after many a failed and depressing night there. He stopped them from leaving and bundled her into the back of the ambulance with an explanation and a card, telling her to call him to tell him how Tony was. She had assumed that she would call him to tell him that Tony was dead.

Tony watched her cry, made no move to console her or further the conversation. He felt bad for doing that, for doing nothing, yet there was no alternative that didn't make him lose her. She felt like the night when the sun was dawning, no matter how hard you looked for darker spots, the light was coming inexorably in.

He could let her go, he should let her go. It felt 'right' and 'fair' to let her do that, to cut her off for her own sake and not hold her to him.

He didn't want to do this alone, but he could.

“Maybe we should break up.” As soon as he said it he felt like a weight had been dropped onto him. Surely it should have felt like a weight had been lifted? Instead it was like a stone tied around his waist, pulling him down, making movement unbearable. He felt empty but not lighter. He sounded petulant, even to himself now, unsure how to fix that and make it kind. He wanted it to be kinder but every word he spoke seemed like a blow to them both.

“If you can't handle it, then make your choice, don't stay for me, I don't need you.”

I do need you though.

“Why are you being such a prick? Where is Tony, the Tony I fell in love with? I know it sounds corny but I don't know you any more.” She was still crying a little when the coffee arrived. The waitress left the two cups and made not attempt to understand or interfere in what was obviously going on. She left as quickly as she had arrived and disappeared through the kitchen doors whispering hurriedly to whomever was on the other side.

“Well it should be easy for you then.”

Why am I being a prick?

“If it were easy I would not be here would I?”

“I don't know, would you? Jesus, just harden up and decide for yourself. I can't decide for you.”

Jane had made her mind up, but wanted or needed to do it better than this. Was there a better ending to this than a tear stained post midnight coffee? One where you would wake the next day wondering how much the world had changed only to find that the world had been ignoring you all along?

“I don't want to harden up. Not if it means doing what you are doing.”

“Seriously? You think that I want you to do what I am doing? No one can do what I am doing, no one.” Tony had found something to be angry about, and now he had an insult to his craft to leverage. Even as he did he knew it was was wrong, and unfair and so much of his own problems with himself spilling out. Jane had opened a door to the issue and it all came tumbling out of him, untrue, unfair and unfettered. He ranted blindly about his work “I am being misunderstood! No one who laughs at me knows why! No one! No one who wants even more from me knows why! Fucking no one! This? This painful existence is part of the human condition! We, I explore art, not force it! I don;t make this happen, it happens to me! An artist channels the art, he does not make it. ... and artists are not understood in their time, they are best remembered when they are dead. Not me. I am not a dead anything, I will not be a dead artist, I will be … “

Jane had risen and was walking away from the table. He had not seen her get up or look away, defeat in her eyes. He had snapped to in the middle of his speech and realised she was a few feet away back turned.

Now the weight lifted and he felt sick and dizzy.

Tony picked up his phone from the table, left a fifty dollar note for the three dollar coffees.

“John? Wake up. What's open and dangerous right now?”