Bicameralism Camera

Distracted for a hot second, my mind a million miles away, I look around this coffee place in my mind for some inspiration, maybe a memory of what it actually feels like to be inside a restaurant. Every table has their own occupant with a laptop, staring into space. Some are fancy birds photographing their latte & cupcake combo, others are high strung rodents nibbling and typing furiously. An elephant sits nearby quietly savoring some tea.

I didn't even see her sit in front of me, but there she was, staring at me. 

C: So I see how it is. You sit on your pedestal, get busy with life, and even after you realize that you blinked and suddenly you’re riding directly into the apocalypse, you wait almost a year and then reach out?

S: You were always my escape when I could afford one, so no, I haven't forgotten you. Neglected, maybe, but not forgotten. 

C: I was always watching. 

S: I know. I think I just wanted to try to figure it all out on my own. You know, that's how adulthood is supposed to work, isn't it? But here we are.

C: It's either this or therapy. Sometimes both are good. What are you drinking? I'm going to get what you're having. 

S: The usual - dirty chai. 

She gets up and goes to the counter. Why, in this completely imagined existence, she felt it necessary to go through the steps instead of just blinking it into existence like Bewitched is a mystery. The flock is still here, the elephant busy tapping away at a cell phone. I think she can feel me staring. Am I staring? I shake my head and take a moment to remember the smell of a place like this, the rustic, quirky furniture and indie soundtrack floating somewhere in the distance. A sip of my chai and I'm back to center. She sits down. 

C: I brought us some cookies. 

S: There are times I hate it when you read my mind - because you're in there - but this is not one of those times. (pause) How old was I when we first talked? 

C: It's been a really long time. Feels like you were just a kid.  

S: it sometimes still feels like I’m just a kid. The world just has more gravity now. 

C: From what I can see you're not carrying any rocks or dragging anything heavy. So what's weighing you down? 

S: I don't know. I think I've been through a lot in a year and the future is uncertain, so I'm trying to find a source of light, something in the darkness. 

C: Yeah, that's probably true of everyone right now. 

S: I used to have milestones, targets that were solidly a few months out, and a foundation to build them on. I remember a time before that when I was able to balance all of that and a life away from it, too. 

C: And then that didn't make sense any more. I remember when you made that change. (laughs) Balance, not making sense to a Libra. 

S: We don't actually strive for balance, though. That's not what we do. At least, those of us born at 7:30pm on the 5th of October. We look for unbalanced things so we can bring them back to center. 

C: So where are you now? 

S: Balanced. With nothing on the scales. Don't get me wrong - it's a great zen place to be. That muscle I used to use to second guess myself has atrophied. Meditation isn't a hot mess these days. 

C: I guess I don't have to ask how the job search is going. 

S: Do you know that saying "Give me a place to stand and I will move the world"?

C: Yeah.

S: So far, what I've seen is more along the lines of "Give me a place to stand and I'll just hand stuff off to the next guy. And together we'll be just fine." That's a job. I need a crack in the door somewhere that I can change. (pause) I'll keep searching...it's such a part of the daily routine that I know I'll trip over something soon. I think I searched for five or six months before I found my last gig. 

C: But how are you? Don't answer me right away, take a moment. Look, umm, I know these are weird times. I hate the word everyone's using...unprecedented. But things suck right now, and I know that you have a basket of masks by your door and your neighbors across the street love throwing super spreader parties every couple of months or so. (pause) I know you won't be able to go home for the holidays, and Thanksgiving this year is going to be just another Thursday. So take a moment and think about it. How are you? 

I stop and take a sip. I've been nibbling on the cookie this whole time but take a bigger bite while I look around. Both she and I notice that the elephant has been watching us, but has finished her tea and cake and has grabbed her keys on her way out. 

What kind of car does an elephant drive? And where is she going? 

I look back at my friend, enjoying the combination of cookie and chai. It is a perfect combination. I don't think you'd find any argument about that with anyone, but if they disagreed I'd be more than happy to tell them they're wrong. They're probably wrong about a lot of things, based on that. 

S: When my father was about to retire, he had a lot of plans. Oh man, he wanted to sculpt, he wanted to paint. He described in detail all of the things he wanted to do, and sure, when he finally retired he got busy fixing things around the house but he never indulged in those creative projects. He just...slowed down. (pause) I don't think any of us were built to work just so we could have a life of leisure. 

C: You're not your dad. (pause) You know that, right? You have a lot of his qualities, but you're not him. (pause) He chased down and won over his childhood sweetheart, and immediately they started their family. That's what they wanted. He had three kids and by your age he was still committed to supporting all three of you. 

S: I don't worry about our lives having the same pattern, but I understand much of how he felt about things. And I understand my mom that way, too. 

C: She didn't stop working until she was physically unable to, remember that? 

S: Yeah. That crazy lady and her gardening. Her sewing. She never took shortcuts when it came to cooking, either. 

C: And let me remind you that your dad worked on things that were urgent, regardless of how big the project was. 

S: So maybe I miss their example right now. Maybe I miss the phone calls, the video chats, the rants and the good nights and all of it. Maybe I could just see myself in the way they talked to me, but right now there's no reflection. 

C: Okay. Let's get out of here. You have too many memories in places like this, and you need to see that reflection again. 

She takes my hand and everything swirls and fades like watercolor paint and clouds until we achieve a dark grey nothingness filled with air. It doesn't feel like a void. It just feels like a pause waiting for something to come through. I hear my voice come through, saying "Okay, is everyone here?" 

The scene fades in and reveals itself. I'm talking to a huge group of musicians.

S: You're going to make me miss this all over again. 

C: How many times did you give this speech? I'm including the dancers and musicians. How many people did you talk to? 

S: I think I delivered this speech almost ten times. Hundreds of people. 

C: LOOK at that guy. Right in the middle. Look at the peoples' faces. (pause) What was the theme every time? 

S: Taking a breath, appreciating the moment. I think I said something about appreciating the journey, and supporting each other.

I stand there with her, silently, watching the speech unfold. I'm looking at everyone's faces, remembering the times I talked to dancers and knowing when I struck a chord, saying something that mattered. This is getting emotional. 

C: Hold on. Before you get too attached to this, let's go back again. 

Everything swirls again but with more speed, and then I'm back at my old theater, talking to the company with my mentor next to me. People are crying in the house. 

C: Do you remember when this speech felt like the height of how good things could ever be? How these theater years were daring and difficult and exhausting? 

S: I still remember going through that theater late at night, and talking to her, saying that this was going to end someday. A part of me wondered if things would ever be better than those years. 

C: And somehow, in the most stressful time, there you were after these years were done, without work, without direction, without even a plan for what to do with your life. 

S: I've been thinking about that a lot. 

C: Look at where you went, and what you did. 

The scene slowly fades, and we find ourselves at the beach, where some of my first conversations with her took place. I don't know what to say. She looks at me, studying my inability to speak. She looks out at the ocean. 

C: I remember a younger version of you who used to drive a white Jeep out to the beach, and he used to write about giving the ocean his thoughts, only to have the waves return the answers in pieces. This is the same guy who used to sit on the moon with a girl trying to figure things out, who wrote poems and plays and allowed his heart to dance and fall, and dance again. 

S: That girl wrote to me almost three years ago, you know. 

C: Yeah, I remember. it's good to know that she remembers those years the way you do. Some things aren't meant to work out. 

S: It's nice to know that it wasn't all just in my mind.

C: Like this? 

Shit.  She got me. 

S: Jerk. 

C: I want you to know something. I want you to know a few things. It's why I brought you here.

I keep my eyes out to the water. I'm not sure that I'm ready for a cheer up talk. 

C: All those times that you remember, that you wrote about or you dream about, for love or heart, they weren't just random special things that happen to anyone. The way you romanticize things, and put your heart into what you do despite obstacles or rejection, or whatever, that's you. That's what you do. It isn't a time that's over, or a product of youth or luck, it's part of you and how you can take the smallest thing and feel overwhelmed by it. (pause) It's still you. You still have stories and adventures, and new muses ahead of you. It was a part of you when we sat out here and watched the sunset, and it's still in your blood. (pause) it's why you're not satisfied right now. But it's okay; You'll find it again.   

S: I fucking love you. 

She laughs. 

C: Know what's funny about that? I am you. I'm your creation, so by default, you're reminding yourself that you...love...you. And it's okay to say that sometimes without arrogance or sarcasm. You're going to be okay. 

S: I'm going to be okay.

We sit there, looking out at the horizon as the sun sets over a vast ocean. As far as I can see, I can feel my reflection as deeply, and I'm ready for what tomorrow brings.