Xeno Hemlock

Again, I asked Francis to say those words. Again, I asked him to speak louder. Again, I conjured unstable, static noises in our conversation. Again, I paid attention to his voice, taking his statement to heart word for word. Disbelief. Belief. Confusion. Elation. Lie. Truth. I settled with truth. Francis was my best friend and he had been nothing but truthful to me in the entirety of our friendship, from my croaked singing to my bland omelets to the inevitable pit stains that formed under the sleeves of my shirt on a hot, summer day. Francis never uttered an untruth and I felt foolish doubting him for a second.

“Gina Watson’s still not over you.” His voice shot from my smartphone’s speaker straight to my quivering guts.

That night when I slipped into bed I asked myself, “Could it be, I’m still not over Gina Watson, too?”

When she arrived at my apartment to give me the wedding invitation, I could’ve turned her away, but I didn’t. When she asked me to help her lose weight, I could’ve told her to fuck off, but I didn’t. When she brought me to Myrna’s Garden, I could’ve walked out on her, but I didn’t.

Did my heart still pulsate every time any of our friends uttered Gina’s name? Did her voice ever echo in my mind in the middle of any past night? Did her face ever appear on any stranger in Cinnabar? Would I be willing to walk each of the hundred streets in the city to follow her around? Would I be willing to inspect every car in traffic just to find her? Would I be open to snatching Gina away from Danny if I possessed the belief that for her he wasn’t the one?

I knew the answer but it was only half of the equation. I had to wait for the next rising of the sun for the other half.

Gina smelled of licorice when she stepped off the cab in front of Gym Olympia the following day. I stood outside waiting for her arrival like the first, second and third times. She breezed through her dumbbell workout, much to my delight, even insisting to do a set of burpees in the end when it wasn’t part of that day’s program. Amy gave us another of her high-pitched goodbyes as Gina and I walked out of the gym in fresh, new clothes, the smell of licorice stronger on Gina’s body than it was earlier.

“What do you think?” Gina asked once we got outside.

“Of what?” I had a hunch on what it was but I wanted to be sure. My heart was beating faster than normal.

“Of my performance in today’s workout.”

“You did great,” I said, taking no pause between words.

“Thank you.” Gina curtsied, her skirt waved like the body of a swimming jellyfish.

“So, what now?”

“I’m not in the mood for salad tonight.”

“I see.” My heart slowed down, missing Myrna’s Garden all of a sudden.

“I’m in the mood for something else.”

“For what?”

“You’ll see. Are you still adventurous like you told me before?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Then let’s go.” Gina grabbed my hand and pulled me. An empty cab stopped in front of us and Gina led me in, her warm and soft hand on my cold one making any form of retreat impossible. “Saint Anthony Park, please,” she told the driver.

“What’s up with the park?” I asked.

A huge city, Cinnabar boasted a lot of parks, Saint Anthony the biggest of them all. Dew and ladybugs ruled the city early in the morning. Strategically placed trees and shrubs formed an emerald army by noon, enough to attract employees to their office windows from the surrounding buildings in inexplicable awe. The entire park burst into a large citrine by sunset. By evening, the park looked like a stilbite, sparkling and white, with blue dots of cavansite, the cool street lights transforming the place into a landmark for both peace and sorrow.

“Surprise,” said Gina. “You’ll see when we get there.”

Our hands parted when the cab took off. I squeezed my body closer to the window, throwing Gina glances every now and then in the hope she’d change her mind and tell me what lay ahead. Nothing eclipsed any fear except the ultimate fear, the fear of the unknown. Despite the cab’s air conditioning, sweat coated my palms during the fifteen minutes we spent in the vehicle.

We didn’t arrive at a stilbite. Instead, we saw a bismuth. What used to be a park glowing blue and white under the moon dazzled in more colors that night. Colorful booths were erected around the park, bringing with them a Cinnabar crowd that would not be out late on a Wednesday night. For the first time since I’d know the place, it didn’t emit an aura of peace and sorrow. Saint Anthony sparkled like a rainbow.

“Tomorrow is the park’s one hundredth anniversary,” said Gina after we stepped out of the cab. “The city’s celebrating it this week with a food festival.”

“I didn’t know.” My mouth remained opened after I spoke.

“I didn’t know too. I found out yesterday and thought it’d be nice if we dropped by after our workout. I read they have some healthy options here.”

I faced Gina with a smile that I couldn’t conceal. “The park looks fantastic.”

“I know, right?” Her hand slipped over mine.

My legs froze and almost buckled, but Gina’s pull was stronger. She led me to the booth nearest to us with a spring in her step, like that time she dragged me to her mother’s garden to have our first kiss. For a moment, the rose bushes from that garden sprouted in Saint Anthony Park, but in the blink of an eye I was brought back to the booth of food.

“We’re in luck. Muffins!” she exclaimed.

A big two-layered shelf full of muffins, varying sizes and colors, stood in front of us. A bearded man appeared from behind and turned to us. “Fancy anything, my dears?” he asked.

“Do you have anything for the health-and-weight conscious?” Gina asked him.

“These oatmeal muffins will suit you.” The man pointed at a group of golden muffins sprinkled with toasted oats on the left side of the shelf.

“Two please,” Gina said.

The vendor took two muffins with a pair of tongs and put each on a paper saucer. “It’s nice to see a young couple making healthy choices while on a date.”

“Oh no,” Gina and I said at the same time. We both realized our hands were still entwined. From my peripheral vision, I saw Gina’s cheek turn into a pink bonbon as her fingers let go of mine. Mine went numb for a split second. “We’re just friends,” we spoke together.

“It’s his first time coming to the festival so I showed him the way,” Gina added.

The vendor handed us the food. “Very well, then. Enjoy!”

Gina took both and gave one to me before pulling a bill from her gym bag. “It’s on me.” She handed the man the payment.

The awkward moment earlier rendered me speechless. We left the booth and went on checking the others, muffins in hand and filled mouths to prevent us from touching and addressing each other. The food at the stalls we passed didn’t fancy us. It wasn’t until the last crumb of our muffins disappeared when a food stall caught our attention.

“Fruit shakes!” Gina rushed to the booth, the tension already dissipated as evidenced by the way she sounded. “Apple. Banana. Mango. Peach. Pineapple. Watermelon.”

“Peanut butter,” I said. “There’s even protein powder. This is perfect.”

We ordered the healthiest version of fruit shake the vendor could make. Gina allowed me to return the favor by paying for them and we kept on our merry way, checking out more food stalls.

Stars littered the sky above. If I was a painter stuck in one of the offices in the tall buildings around us, I’d be wasting no time capturing the picturesque bismuth above and below. Saint Anthony Park looked like the masterpiece of all masterpieces, something which I didn’t think could be possible after the many times it graced my eyes.

Gina’s slurping stole my attention. I watched her drink from the thick straw while looking at the sky above. Despite the extra chins and the cake of fat around them, her lips remained thick and luscious like the way they were back in Verona. Her right eye glinted before a tear fell from it, down to her pinkish cheek and to the side of her lips. Her mouth broke off from the straw and uttered the words I didn’t expect to hear that night. “Herbert, I’m sorry,” Gina said.

“For what?”

Gina faced me, revealing a line of tears stemming from her other eye down her cheek. “For leaving you the way I did back in Verona. I already apologized to you that night with Sarah, but it wasn’t enough.”

If each star watching us was a word, I’d know what to say. But they were just our audience.

“Mother and Father wanted me to live their dreams,” she continued. “But I didn’t want that. I wanted to break free on my own. I didn’t tell you because I was too scared to admit that my childhood and teenage years were lived in unquestionable obedience, always following what my parents told me, ignoring what I wanted for myself. I tried talking them out of their plan for me in college but they wouldn’t budge. Running away was the only solution, or so I thought.”

“The letter you wrote for me, the one your mother gave, you made it vague. It wasn’t me, it was you, something you had to decide for yourself. You wrote that I deserved better and that I should move on.”

“I enjoyed every moment I spent with you, Herbert. I didn’t regret a single one. But I regretted leaving you in the dark. I crucified myself for years thinking I could’ve dealt with it differently without hurting you. I’m truly sorry.”

“You hurt me, Gina. One day we were holding each other’s hands. The next day, you vanished, leaving no trace, creating a void inside me that took many years to fill. I hated you for it.”

“Forgive me.” Gina dropped her shake and took my hand with hers. “That’s why I came to see you. I wanted to make amends, make it up to you, let you know that if there’s one thing I could change in my past, that would be leaving you like that. If that happened, the present would be different. But it’s not too late, Herbert. It’s not yet too late.”

I dropped my shake and pulled Gina for a hug. “It’s been a long, long time, Gina. I forgive you.”

“Thank you.” Gina pulled her head a little away from me. “I’m so glad I didn’t give up. After the night, Sarah and I went to your place, I returned to your door step every night that followed. I felt like I needed to do more than just hand out an invitation to give you the apology you deserved. But I couldn’t bring myself to knock on it until that night I did.”

I saw the stars twinkle in her eyes. The moon seemed to smile. The scent of licorice returned. Gina’s lips started to part like a flower blooming. The smell of apple and peach made its way to my nose. The stars and the moon disappeared. The flower continued growing. I was about to taste apple and peach when a collective moan assaulted our ears. I opened my eyes and found the bismuth on the ground had disappeared. All the lights in the park had gone out, enveloping us in near darkness. Saint Anthony Park would’ve turned into a black heart, if it wasn’t for the bismuth in the sky, a mere spectator, a witness on what just happened down below.

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“Bismuth and Blackout” is Chapter 8 of the novel I Killed My Friends and It Thrilled Me.