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Martin, Revisited
Chapter Eighteen
HIS PLACE FULL OF SPACE
Copyright 2016 - 2020 Christina M. Guerrero
INTERMEDIATE DRAFT
PROLOGUE, FIRST SECTION - Martin - Thoughts while falling asleep. Which led to a short story. Which led to a novel.
CHAPTER ONE - The English Rose - Martin in love.
CHAPTER TWO - The Mooch Message - You may think words don't matter. But they do.
CHAPTER THREE - Congratulations - Time to celebrate. Or is it?
CHAPTER FOUR - The Heart Of Man - Who we are.
INTERLUDE NUMBER ONE - Turning A Writing Project Into A Novel - A few things to consider
CHAPTER FIVE - The Dead Thing - The green spaceship theory.
CHAPTER SIX - TBD
CHAPTER SEVEN - TBD
CHAPTER EIGHT part one - Their Children, Again - Life as a child.
CHAPTER EIGHT part two - Their Children, Once More - Growing up.
CHAPTER ELEVEN- A Scent Of Roses - Pondering infinity.
IN PROGRESS
CHAPTER SIXTEEN - The Spirit Of A Good Man - Don't underestimate people. You'd be surprised what they're capable of.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - G-Rated Swear Words - What pays the bills is not easy.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - His Place Full Of Space - What makes a place a home.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - Hallelujah - In search of the truth.
CHAPTER NINETEEN - Recovery - The body, soul, and spirit need time to recover from injustice.
CHAPTER UNKNOWN - A Bit Of Heaven - The holidays are difficult for some.
CHAPTER UNKNOWN - Who's The Hero? - Looking for hope.
CHAPTER UNKNOWN - Zombie Caleb And The Holidays - Dealing with flashbacks.
CHAPTER UNKNOWN - The Mystery Of Spasiba - Are babies paying attention?
ABOUT THE DRAFTS
Draft One:
The usual mistakes, inconsistencies, typos, etc.
This chapter is special because it allowed me to explore what life would be like if I had more children.
Which led to the question: Why didn't I?
The scene in the bookstore answered those questions.
When I finished this novel I counted eight children who might have joined me in this lifetime.
My child and I named most of them many years ago, during conversations about more siblings.
This story helped me to name the rest of them.
Draft Two:
Nothing, yet.
DISCLAIMER
Except for the first section of the prologue and the interludes, this is a work of fiction.
The rest is either a product of the author's imagination, or used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to real persons, places, things, or events is coincidental and unintentional.
Carter entered his apartment, turned and held the door open.
Martin followed.
They stood in a wide, long hallway. To the left and right were walls covered in light gold wallpaper with a darker gold diagonal pattern. Blond wood tables stood outside several doors in the walls on either side. The tables were topped with big black vases containing small trees.
The floor’s light brown tile extended from front to back, to a big room at the end of the hall that spanned the width of the apartment. The big room appeared to have nothing in it except several huge blobs of yellow material and tall windows covered with long dark gray curtains. A light woody scent welcomed them home.
Martin observed and held back his thoughts: right now, there might be tears involved at explaining the similarities between this massive living space and Martin’s father’s study.
He decided, instead, to comment on the woody scent when he felt a gentle touch on his arm.
"Maaartin. If you aaare in that situation again. No place to live. You aaare welcome to stay here. Maybe youuu could share it with me, if you don't stay where you are now. I I I will own it soon, aaand only pay taxes and a few fees. Two people will have a bargain here."
"This is a lot of space."
"It is like two separate large aaapartments on either siiide of the hallway. With two kitchens around the corners and a big living room. If you waaant, right now we can sleep on the big recliners and I I I'll tell you about it."
"Okay. May I use the bathroom first?"
"Yes.” Carter referred to a door to the left. "That side is mostly empty. Take your time. I I I need to do the same."
"Thanks."
Martin felt a pat on his back and then he was alone.
He opened one of the doors to his left and entered a space that had a bathroom to the left, a living and bedroom space directly in front and extending to his right, and a kitchen to the far right, through double doors that were open.
Martin procrastinated on the bathroom and looked around. The empty kitchen was part of the huge room to the south, with a matching, decorated, lived-in kitchen on the other side of the yellow blobs. He studied four recliner-shaped blobs. In each recliner was a stack of blankets.
He returned to the smaller living room and aimed for the bathroom. Once inside, he took off his small backpack and used the toilet, washed up, and put on pajamas. Feeling refreshed, he went to the big room and found Carter sitting in one of the big chairs, surrounded by a big fluffy brown blanket. The other chairs formed a semi circle. Martin sat in a recliner to Carter’s left, got comfortable and said, "This is nice."
"Thaaanks. These recliners aaare big enough fooor men to sleep in. You caaan make it flat. Watch this." Carter tapped his phone several times. The interior lights went out and the curtains opened, showing a galaxy of city lights.
"How can you afford this place?"
"I I I had a long taaalk with the previous owner manyyy years ago. He offered me a deal and I I I took it." In the semi-darkness, Carter’s face was solemn.
“Carter ... did you have to trade something ... valuable?”
“No.”
Martin stared and frowned, thinking he had just seen his father in Carter’s profile: at first thinking there might be a physical resemblance, then trying to convince himself it was more of a fearless attitude than physical characteristics.
Carter said, “Well ... some of myyy time. Thaaat is valuable.”
“You want to tell me more?” Martin tried to keep the worry out of his voice, but he felt his father’s presence once again, now in a tone that had been used many times toward the gentleman’s wife and children.
Silence. “I I I don’t know, Maaartin.” More silence. “I I I ... please don’t tell anyone. I I ... I don’t remember everything about it. Because of amnesia, which aaalso affects my ability to learn. It was a baaad time for me. The owner was very patient. I will show youuu photos some time. Heee offered me a cheap mortgage if I I I assisted with renovating this space and several other spaces. Heee saw meee struggling to learn, and was very patient.” Carter wiped his eyes and cheeks. “Heee helped a lot of the disadvantaged and disabled and people who haaad been convicted of felonies. I I I worked alongside a diverse group of people here aaand in two other places. I never felt scared, or better or worse than aaanyone else. I I I just wanted to buy some property. When the work waaas finished, we signed a bargain of a mortgage. Heee taught me how to decorate on a budget. A friend of his makes furniture aaand was impressed with myyy work, and made these chairs for meee, in exchange for free advertising on my first website.”
“Amnesia. I think you mentioned it a few times. Is it bad?”
“Yes. Youuu might retain new information the first or second time youuu hear it. I I I have to work hard at remembering some things. I I was born with brain damage. But that ... my experiences ... the chronic trauma ... that caused amnesia.” Carter’s face was still; he was silent for a long time. He finally said, “I I I still look through the photos of the renovation aaand don’t remember all of it.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes. Some of the others ended up dead or back in prison. I I I visit them.”
“I’m thinking they were pretty decent to you.”
“Mooost of them were. If theyyy asked whyyy I was on my own, I I I told them ‘I don’t share that information. But I I will say this: not everything is as it appears to be.’ Most people would just smile aaand nod and tryyy to get along after I I I said that.”
“Everyone deserves a chance.”
“Yes.”
“What else can I do, Carter? Just listening seems ... trivial.”
“It’s nooot trivial. Not everyone listens well. Aand just beee a good friend, like you haaave been.”
“Okay.”
“Let’s tryyy not to talk about those things right before sleep. What do youuu think of it? Aaall of this place.”
"It's beautiful."
"Thaaaat girlfriend whooo I lived with. When she left for the laaaast time she said it looked cold and frosty."
"I think this part looks like several dollops of butter in light brown chocolate sauce."
After a long silence Carter said, "Youuuu ... Foooood."
Martin thought about commenting but fell asleep.
*****
Carter stared in disbelief.
He was stuck in a lift, dangling halfway up a flight of stairs.
He unbuckled but as soon as he was free, the buckle refastened by itself.
He tried again. The buckle refastened.
The lift shot to the top of the stairs. Then it shot to the bottom. It swirled around in a circle--
He woke, punching and weakly kicking at the big brown blanket, breathing fast, sweating and feeling his rapidly beating heart.
To his left, Martin slept quietly in one of the other huge recliners, cocooned in a blanket, breathing slowly and evenly.
Carter looked out the windows for a long time. He used a telescope app while looking west. He was about to put the phone down when he saw a red sign across the Hudson River: "MART N S."
He smiled and took a picture, then leaned back, waiting for sleep.
"The other way," Martin mumbled. "Quickly."
Carter wondered about this, closed his eyes, opened his eyes and found morning light exploring his living room. The light revealed Martin sitting up, staring toward the window.
Is it a seizure? Carter wondered. Then Martin turned and smiled. "Good morning, giggly."
"What."
"You've been giggling softly in your sleep all morning."
"I I I was playing the game in my dreams. I was in the game."
"Did the Pypes explode?"
"Yes."
They grinned.
Martin asked, "Want me to make breakfast?”
"Please. And I I I will clean up."
Later, while Martin was taking a shower, Carter fast forwarded through digital security videos. He watched as they arrived the previous evening. On his own, Martin appeared to be curious, then went to the bathroom. Carter emerged from his side and went to the big room. Martin joined him and they chatted and slept. Carter woke and used his camera, went back to sleep. They were still for a long time. Martin woke just as the sun rose, and went to the bathroom. On his way back he fell in the hallway. As he struggled to stand he said, “Nobody needs to get up. I got it,” and returned to his recliner.
Carter laughed> When he heard Martin leaving the bathroom, he closed the security app and sipped some juice.
Martin returned to his chair and said, "That's a really nice shower."
"Yeah, it is."
"What do you have planned for the day?"
"I I I was hoping you have time to go to the bookstore with me. And maybe baaaack to that coffee shop, or someplace cheatp to have lunch."
*****
"I think so," Martin said. "After that, I'll need to get home. I need to write and might get together with India."
Carter's face was still, then somber. That inspired Martin to think about his own rental agreement; he had about four months to go. He enjoyed alone time, but spending time with Carter was just as fun.
"Okayy," Carter said. "Do you waaant to leave now or a bit later?"
"Now is fine."
Outside, Martin thought the air and light were brighter and more cheerful than in recent days. He felt a smile on his face. He turned and found a little smile on Carter’s face, and at that precise moment a thin, colorfully-dressed white man walked by and said as if singing, "Ah, young love. You make an adorable couple. Have a wonderful day." The man hummed his way across the street and into a convenience store.
Martin had another case of uncontrollable giggling.
Carter said, "I I I'm not L,G,B,T or Q or the others but I I love the neighborhood. People aaare nice most of the time." He took out his phone and messed with it. "Level two of Leeras versus Pypes is almost ready.”
"How can you create them so fast?"
"It's a combination of aaan algorithm and efficiency."
They took the bus to the the bookstore and entered. Martin said, "I'm going upstairs to the history section. See you in about ... what ... half an hour? Longer?"
"Would you be okayyyy with an hour?"
"Yes."
*****
They separated. Carter felt a pang of sadness then reminded himself: Martin will be in the store.
Carter browsed among magazines, glanced at new nonfiction, then wandered into a maze of biographies. He turned corners as he followed the alphabet. As he passed a small nook of New York City-related bios, he saw a woman sitting just around another corner.
He moved forward and checked her out: petite, long grayish-brown hair, big face, big eyes.
"Martin's mother," he said.
She looked up from squinting at the book: an unauthorized biography of her late husband. Carter saw Martin's pseudonym on the cover.
"Hello, Carter." She appeared to be pleased.
"Hiii," he said reluctantly.
"Would you like to sit down?"
He thought about the mooch message, studied her, then said, "Thaaank you," and sat.
She closed the book and looked at the cover, rather shyly, the way Martin would. Then, not at all like Martin, and very much like Carter, she looked sideways and said politely, "How are you feeling?"
Carter surprised himself with the only thing on his mind. "I'm not happy."
"Why."
"Because of thaaat mooch message. Were you behind it?"
"No.” She appeared to be sad. “And if you checked my phone you'd find me innocent."
Carter felt hideous doing it but he felt the power of what he called The Unwavering Stare.
She stared right back. "If those brats bother you, let me know. Has Martin told you about them?"
He smiled and nodded. “Heee told meee about the no-contact year.”
She studied his shoes.
"Whaaat are you reading?" Carter asked.
"An unauthorized biography of my husband. The writer is an ass. It's almost as if he or she knows all about us but is deliberately keeping things general and vague."
Carter managed to keep a straight face. "Mayyy I seee it?"
She let go. Carter flipped through the thin hardback.
"How do you like those shoes?" She asked.
Carter felt the little smile back on his face. "They are perfect."
"How are they wearing? Would you mind if I checked them out?"
He put the book aside, lifted his left knee over his right, untied the left shoe and handed it over.
She took the burgundy wingtip with two strange square hands and said, in a much gentler voice, "Nice. Do they feel good?"
"Yes."
"You have inserts."
"Yes."
"Not mine."
"No."
"Why?"
"They're nooot thick enough."
"So these shoes ... weren't for the slim black gentleman ... who ordered and paid for them."
Carter grinned and said, "No. Thaaat was my attorney who arranged everything. You remind me of thaaat waand maker in the Harry Potter series. Do youuu know all your shoes?"
"I do." She rubbed his left sock. "My inserts are not thick enough because your socks are too thin."
"I know."
"May I see the other shoe?"
Carter removed his right shoe and handed it over.
She placed them in her lap and traced them. "When I was a child I would judge men's suits and shoes and think 'why don't they look nicer.' I am so happy with this dress shoe line." She held one up sideways.
Carter said, "Me too. I I I am curious. How dooo you love them if they're braaats?"
Big blue eyes studied his. "Do you have children?"
He looked around. He would hear or see anyone entering the adjoining nook, which led to this one. "Myyy first girlfriend and I I I had a miscarriage. And please don't tell anyone. Not even Maaartin. I I I'm not ready to tell him."
"Okay. I'm sorry. And if the baby had grown up and been a brat?"
"I I I would have been fair but firm."
"Would you have hated him? Or her?"
He thought of the child, which had been a tiny discernible form among the blood and tissue. His girlfriend had gone into shock for several hours, then recovered rapidly. Their relationship had seemed okay, but one day without warning, like the next girlfriend, she said the relationship was over. Had the child lived, it would have been four years old. He and the child's mother met once a year and mourned amicably.
"No," he said. "I I I would have loved unconditionally."
"Then you sort of get it."
"Yeah."
"All of my children have disabilities, which does not excuse the brattiness. But I can see that they struggle so I need to be loving and patient."
Carter said, "Yes. Maaartin told me about a dream he haaad. Youuu had only one child, and your husband died young."
"That dream. Did he describe all of it?"
"I I think so. Maaartin said he was an angel sent byyy his father to comfort you and help you understand why they aaall could not be with youuu in that life. And he told youuu about his life here."
Tears wet her eyes but she smiled. "He's had that recurring dream for several months."
"Maybeee in thaaat life youuu would not have beeen able to take care of seven disabled children on your own."
She nodded. "Maybe. But it wouldn't have been impossible. Probably difficult. And I'm doing it now, aren't I? Even though they're adults."
Carter thought about her help: her assistants, and her husband's estate, and the other household. But she was in charge of all of it.
She moved a stool in front of him. "I'll put these back on." She loosened the shoelaces, gently lifted his left foot to her knee, pulled a shoe horn out of her purse, and said, “Okay.”
Carter watched solemnly.
As she tied the shoe, they both looked up at a rhythm of two light thumps followed by shuffling footsteps. Martin appeared in the other nook, at first browsing then staring curiously at Carter, the shoes, and his mother.
"Hi, Baby!" She said.
Martin said with theatric pauses, "I can come back ... if you two would like to be ... alone." He started to turn away.
Carter said, "Maaartin, it's not like thaaat. Please join us."
"Martin, I was vainly admiring my own work," Martin's mother said. "Okay, other shoe."
Martin noticed the book next to Carter. "Mom, why are you reading this crap? I came across this the other day. This muckraker calls Dad a womanizer."
Carter covered a small cough. Martin glanced at him then put the book in a small trash can.
"Martin! Don't put that book there. I wouldn't say he was a womanizer but he was quite the flirt.” She stepped back and looked back and forth at them. "Baby, you’re wearing the shoes, too! Hey ... maybe both of you could be my next print ad."
"We'd have to check with our agents. There's an advertisement clause in our TV show contract with all sorts of variations and conditions.”.
“Let me know. I don’t have anyone else lined up.” She studied Carter. "You two look very much alike. Although Martin has slightly broader, rounder features."
Carter said hopefully, "Maybe there waaaas a mix up aaat the hospital." He added a little smile to indicate he was joking. Sort of. He felt a tiny bit of longing for their continued companionship.
"A year apart?" Martin asked. "You're a year older than me."
"Nooo. Nine months."
They frowned.
She said, "Martin, did you tell him ....”
“About Howard?”
“Yes.”
Carter said, “Heee told me about his twin, and how he died ... when I was in the hospital. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. Carter, are you ... were you ... The only one with a disability?"
"Yeah. Aaand my twin is fraternal."
She moved slowly toward him, seemed about to say something, then looked at Martin, then looked back. “Nine months. Exactly?”
Martin said, "It’s a few days off.”
Carter looked over Martin’s face, then her face. They seemed to be doing the same to him and each other.
She said, “It might be a casting director thing. They have a great ability to find people who look like each other.”
Martin said, “They do. We have to go, Carter. Are you sure I didn't interrupt anything?"
"Stop it, Maaartin."
They all walked to the entrance.
*****
Martin watched the other two hug briefly. Carter was almost a foot taller. Martin had a vision of a child on his knee and saying: yes, your step-grandfather is barely older than me because grandma could be a cougar sometimes.
Carter and he walked in silence for a while, then agreed to walk to the coffee shop.
"It's a long walk, but I I need exercise," Carter said. In a playful tone he said, “Youuu do too.”
“Bite me.”
Carter laughed; several people around him glanced at him and smiled.
As they ate, Martin listened as Carter explained about the book, and the shoes, and her feelings about "the brats."
"She called them that?"
"Yes. Thaaat surprised meee."
"Maybe she's finally had enough."
Carter chewed and shrugged.
Martin said, "No, I can't see her abandoning them."
"I couldn't dooo that. Be patient like that. Be aaa parent."
"Me either."
"Do youuu want children?"
"I don't think so. I think I'll be enough. With my disability and all."
"Youuu aaare nice and patient. I I I think you would make a good father."
"Thanks. I don't know about you. You'd probably have them all CEOs of their own company from a young age."
"I would."
They finished and went to the bus stop.
Martin said awkwardly as he looked anywhere but at Carter, "I like spending time together as friends, Carter."
"Meee, too."
The bus pulled up.
Carter said, "If youuu don't mind meee asking, when is your lease over?"
"In about four months."
"Well." Carter stopped and watched as a man in a wheelchair descended from the bus on a platform. "Friendship sometimes laaasts longer than romances. And I think since we like each other we should loook out for each other--"
"Hey, buddy," said a voice from the bus. "You getting on, or what?"
Carter hugged Martin and stepped onto the platform.
Martin started walking and thinking. As the bus drove by, he saw Carter holding up one thumb near a window.
Once on his own bus, Martin sent a text message to Carter: "Was that a G-rated version of bros before you know what's."
Carter replied, "Yes. But not all women are you know what's."
"I know. Let's see if we still like each other in four months and go from there."
"Sounds good. See you tomorrow?"
"I hope to."
Martin returned to his apartment and moped for a few minutes. Then he set up a dinner date with India and focused on writing for a few hours. He called his agent and instructed the gentleman to please not give away his literary identity.
As the dinner date grew closer, his heart started pounding. He was still concerned about making a good impression on India. He fussed over his clothes and hair and cologne.
"Just proceed," he said as he adjusted his tie.
She wanted to eat at a cafe near her precinct before her shift. He took the bus, got off, and found her just inside, chatting with a police officer, dressed for work in a fitted tan pantsuit and a chocolate brown trench coat. She smelled like flowers.
"Hello, India," Martin said.
"Martin." She reached for him; he hugged and kissed her. "Alan, this is my boyfriend."
"Pleasure, sir," the officer said. "Take good care of her."
"I will."
She looked Martin over. "Nice."
He looked down at his fitted light gray suit. "Thanks."
They sat and looked at menus.
"What do you recommend?" Martin asked.
"The soups. The sandwiches are good, too and a good bargain."
"Bleh. I had a big sandwich for lunch. Something light."
"How've you been?" She reached for his left hand.
"Good. Had to work long hours yesterday." He hesitated only briefly. "Spending a lot of time with Carter."
"How's that going?"
"Well, I think. I like his company. As friends. I think he feels the same way."
"Cool. I admire him. Platonically." She squeezed his hand.
"And me?"
"It's more than admiration and friendship."
He squeezed back. "I have to balance time with you two right now since I met you just after he and I started hanging out."
With a sassy wink she said, "You know what they say. Bros before hos."
Martin felt his face turn red. "Let the record reflect that I didn't say it. You did. How about you? What's up lately?"
Martin was pleased as the conversation shifted easily between subjects. When India grew quiet and folded her hands, he felt worried but resigned, hoping nothing was wrong.
When Alan returned and sat next to him, Martin frowned.
India said “We’re concerned about you and Carter because of a note he received.” She produced a copy of the letter Carter had shared.
“I know about this,” Martin said.
Alan said, “Do you feel like you are in danger around him?”
“No.”
India asked, “Has he ever been violent?”
“No. Is he okay? Has he been arrested or something?”
Alan said, “No. We’ve got someone checking on you two for now. Let us know if anything unusual happens.”
“Like what.”
“Being followed or harassed. Unwanted contact of any kind by the individuals he used to live with.”
“You mean his--”
Alan said gently, “Please don’t ever use that word.”
India said, “Alan--”
Alan said, “Martin. You repeat any of this, I’ll call you a liar and India will back me up. I believe Carter is not doing anything to anybody. I’ll refrain from criticizing those sadistic ... twisted ... insane ....”
Martin happily supplied, “Panty-wipes.”
Alan’s eyebrows raised. “Thank you. Anyway, I know several officers who have known Carter for many years. They believe he is a fine human being. Nobody believes the--”
“Panty-wipes.”
Martin and Alan giggled.
India said, “Boys. Will be boys.”
Alan said, “Naturally, Martin, if Carter should suddenly prove you or us wrong, please let us know.”
Martin nodded, struggled with his conscience for a few moments then said, “What do you think of this?” He accessed the Leera game and handed the phone to Alan.
Alan silently read the introduction, moved the Leeras together and blasted the Pypes. He appeared to make a deliberate mistake and watched solemnly as the chief Leera popped up. He handed the phone to India. She was busy for a while; Martin heard “Thanks, dude” several times.
India said, “Planet MarCar? Are you behind this, Martin?”
“No. I think he invented this with his business partners.”
She and Alan studied each other; then she handed the phone back to Martin.
Alan swiped several fries through a blob of ketchup, inserted them into his mouth, chewed, swallowed, and gestured with a single fry. “Let me tell you about the panty-wipes.”
They all snorted.
Alan said “Their nickname for him is ‘Dumb, followed by everyone’s favorite short anglo-saxon word.’ He can’t remember the last time they called him by his name. They will say and do anything to convince you that he does nothing. Meanwhile, he’s always worked hard and payed his bills and taxes and, for the most part, obeyed the law.”
Martin used his best innocent face. “For the most part?”
They glanced at each other again. India said, “Ask him about it. It was minor.”
Martin changed his mind. “If it was for vagrancy, he told me about it.”
“That’s it. He sat quietly and didn’t bother anyone. Spent the night in jail and took it quite well.”
Martin said roughly, “Whatever he experienced -- he was probably used to that type of behavior. And probably much worse.” He felt terrible, and wanted to escape, remembering his own experiences with hatred, anger, hostility and evil ....
He felt warmth on his hands. India was caressing him.
Alan said, “Definitely much worse.”
India said, “They were calling him that word today.”
Alan said, “India.”
“I didn’t say how I know.”
“Well, you two. I better go. Martin, let one of us know if you really are in danger.”
“Okay.”
After eating, Martin and India walked around the block, holding hands.
“What would you think of another date?” Martin asked.
“I think I would like that.”
“Then we could play it by ear, in terms of scheduling, or set one up.”
“Play it by ear. Our schedules are messed up.”
“They are. I hope you have a satisfactory and interesting evening.”
“I usually do. Will you be okay?”
“Yes.”
“We didn’t mean to be too harsh. But we want to look at things from all angles and make sure you two are safe.”
“Thanks. He’s tough and stubborn. I think he’ll always be okay.”
“Birds of a feather--”
He silenced her with a kiss.
And, suddenly, he found himself back home, wrapped up in their joy, imagining her returning in the early morning and sleeping in his arms. He decided to bring up marriage again soon. Then she could be with him round the clock.
He was about to fall asleep when his phone buzzed with a message from India: “Sleep well, my sweet.”
He sent a kiss, then tried to get comfortable but remained awake, thinking about Carter.
*****
Carter looked over the figures for Leeras vs. Pypes. His partners had been wrong. There had been a few thousand downloads the first day, a few more thousand the next day, and today there had been a sharp upturn.
They were at their main headquarters, arguing.
Carter said, "I I I still say we don't need to incorporate yet."
Ian, one of his partners, spoke through a keyboard. "I. Think. We. Should." He frowned for emphasis.
Thor, the third partner, said, "We've run the figures over and over. Both ways have about the same pros and cons." He moved around the table on his wheelchair and handed Carter the latest projected quarterly tax returns, both privately-owned and as a corporation.
Carter sighed and regrouped. "Okayyy. We won't rush this decision. Who agrees?"
Thor nodded. Ian continued to frown.
"How long do we waaant to wait on a decision? Next quarter? Some time this year? Next year?"
"I. Think. We. Should. Re-evaluate. Our. Goals. For. The. Company. And each. Develop. A pitch. For why or. Why. Not. To incorporate. By. The end. Of next quarter."
Thor said, “Good idea, Ian.”
Carter said, "Aaand in the meantime."
"Pay our taxes on time. Enjoy the success. Be mindful of it."
"Yeah. Let's not forget to haaave fun."
They closed up the office and took the elevator to the street. One by one they slipped into the darkness and went to their separate homes.
Carter arrived in his lobby to the ever-alert doorman who said, "Good morning, sir."
"Good mooorning."
He went up to his floor, went inside and hummed the song he had heard in the morning, letting out an occasional, “Bodyyy. Feelin blah blah bodyyy.”
In the bathroom he washed up. He put on pajamas and went to the big room and kicked back.
After enjoying the lights he checked his personal phone.
India had sent a text message, "We are still investigating the shooting. So far I believe the evidence and the trial will be relatively predictable."
He sent, "I hope so. Did you get to see Martin today?"
"Yes. We had a lovely dinner."
"I'm glad."
"And you? Your friendship has been going well?"
"Yes. So far." Carter hesitated then shared, "I told him he could stay with me or move in with me should he run into any more homeless issues."
"Cool. I'm sure he can take care of himself, but that's a nice thing to fall back on, or in case he and I don't last."
"I hope it does. You seem to be happy with each other."
"I am. Hey, he just texted me. I better erase yours LOL and go so I don’t send you words meant for him."
"LOL. That would be awkward. Good night."
Carter fell asleep. He was aware of a vague dream involving a warehouse, a parking garage, and another large structure. The structure turned into a stairway with a lift. He watched himself both on the lift and walking next to it. Just as both of his selves reached the top of the stairs, the two Carters slid to the bottom and started over.
He reached out when his two selves returned. They held out their hands to him and would not let go. They moved up the stairs, ripping off his arms, and leaving a bloody mess.
Carter howled in pain ....
He woke, struggling with his blankets, swearing loudly. He took a pillow and moaned into it until he felt better.
He reflected on the day’s schedule. They had to be on the set at ten a.m. It was twelve-thirty; he might be able to get a decent amount of sleep.
“Just reeelax,” he said.
He gazed at the city lights but they did not hypnotize him. Viewed the ‘MART N S’ sign. Whistled. Tried to remember the words to the Timberlake song. Pulled them up on his phone, along with the song and tried to sing along but that made him laugh.
“Someone help meee sleep,” he said. He prayed for a while, asking for sleep or the strength to get through the day without it.
He woke again. It was only twelve-forty-nine. He took his phone, created a document and started writing a prayer.
Buzzing jolted him awake. He stared at the ceiling then at the city lights, then checked his phone. A message from Martin said, “I am no god.”
Carter checked the messages. Somehow he had sent to Martin, “Please grant me sleep, God.” He remembered cutting and pasting the words in the document but not in a message. Martin’s message had arrived at twelve-fifty-nine; it was one in the morning.
After a round of swearing out of embarrassment, this time without the pillow, Carter sent, “Martin, I apologize. I’m struggling with insomnia tonight, and accidentally sleep-texted you. I’m sorry if I woke you up.”
Almost immediately Martin replied, “LOL! I’m awake. Thought I’d fall right to sleep but not tonight.”
“Thinking about India?”
“A little. I was thinking more about that letter. She and one of her co-workers questioned me about it and asked if you’ve been violent.”
“Really. I guess they have to do that. I’m such a threat LOL. You might have to wait millenniums for me to complete a syllable.”
“Yep. That’s quite the threat. Should I watch my back?”
“No. You should bring ‘War And Peace’ just in case you’ll have to actively listen for longer than a microsecond.”
“Those dudes and dudettes at the coffee chop listen well.”
“They do. I don’t recall any of them having any trouble understanding me. You’re a good listener too.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m sorry for the message. We should get some sleep. See you tomorrow?”
“It’s okay. Yes, I hope to.”
TO BE CONTINUED
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