Song for this chapter: “It All Disappears†(Bone Poets Orchestra)
Something I Ought To Do
A few days later, Chris hid away from the world and the filming of “Horrible Bosses 2†with sandwiches and salad and Smart Water. Somehow each premiere seemed a worse kind of hell than all previous ones rolled into one. It didn’t really help to have days on set thrown into the mix. Once again he was tempted to run away. Away from the circus and the chaos. To lock himself up in an ivory tower somewhere. But of course that was not an option. He was in two major franchises now, he was involved in several smaller projects at various stages of completion, and had some great and exciting stuff lined up. And if he smiled hard enough when he looked in the mirror while telling himself how great and how exciting it all was, maybe he’d believe it.
Then he realized he had no book or newspaper to keep himself entertained for lunch. When he patted down his jacket, he realized that he’d also forgotten his phone. Clearly, it was one of those days. There was just that damn notebook.
Succumbing to boredom (or perhaps rather sordid curiosity), he flipped it open again, right in the middle.
Where love rules, there is no will to power, and where power predominates, love is lacking. The one is the shadow of the other.
Again, he found himself frowning at the quote. His relationship with Iris – well, arrangement, really – was over and done with, and he regretted that more than he’d anticipated. She had been such a good sport about it. Less of a hassle than most models he knew. Fun and European. Adventurous, in bed and outside of bed (she’d even suggested pegging, but of course they’d never gotten around to actually trying that).
His publicist was already pestering him about dates again, but he really wasn’t in the mood for another “agreement†with a model or an up-and-coming actress. And he couldn’t even remember the last time he met a woman he was genuinely interested in. Someone with the sense of humor and the kind of intelligence he’d still be able to appreciate years down the road. He drowned a sigh in a glass of Smart Water. Somehow he thought he knew less about love than ever. He’d definitely never been in a relationship where love ruled. Fun, yes. Common sense and convenience, sure. Power … A strange feeling stirred in his stomach as he imagined how power might be expressed in a relationship. For some reason (probably because of the inevitable Sylar connection) he had to think of Zach. Not of “Heroesâ€, though. He thought of Zach’s eyes. Of his pictures in Tyler’s latest book. Of his perfectly controlled intensity. Chris had spent too much time looking at those photos.
Shivering, Chris hastily turned the page.
# The Love Song of the North American Douchebag
# It happens like this
He snorted. Okay, that he could identify with. Though, hashtags? Did that mean the writer had copied the lines from Twitter? The lines definitely looked like something Zach would Tweet. Well, minus the capital letters, of course. Because upper case was so establishment. And lower case was so progressive. (But there was no punctuation, and just to be even more contrary, Zach was rather particular about correct punctuation.)
Chris looked at the next page. Another quote, or rather: parts of a quote. Though this time in the upper half of the page. And, he noted with a strange mixture of satisfaction and relief, he recognized the source at a glance.
don’t stop now/his fingers rode my fingers as my hand went over the paper/like nothing else in my life up to now/you got it/something I ought to do/really something
Raymond Carver, he thought. Collected Stories, The Cathedral. Minus correct capitalization, complete sentences, and proper punctuation. Berkeley was good for something after all. Also, he’d always liked that particular story. Prose like that, it was more than mere words. There was music to language like that. Melody. Something that tugged at your heartstrings like a song.
not common, but essential
(i would pick mind melds 2
all that bonding stuff)
Was that another quote? Or a comment? Well, the remark in parentheses was definitely a comment, and it finally told him something about the owner of the notebook. He felt almost annoyed, and disappointed. Just another Star Trek fan. Also, a Star Trek fan? Quoting Carver? That just didn’t seem right. Of course an action hero actor recognizing fragments of Carver at a glance probably didn’t make much sense, either.
Mind melds, though. He wouldn’t mind them. In the privacy of his own thoughts he could admit that. A mind meld would mean excruciating intimacy and grueling honesty. And if he had this kind of courage, to expose himself to another’s investigation like that, who knew where he’d be right now? For some reason – probably just because of the Trek connection – he thought of Zach again. For all his friend’s esoteric jungle experiences and his grand talk about authenticity and self-discovery, Chris was pretty sure that Zach would rather burn all his fug hats in a big, public bonfire than submit willingly to a mind meld. Why that thought depressed him, Chris had no idea.
Shaking his head, he put the notebook away and concentrated on his lunch instead. That was healthier. And a lot saner.
Author’s Notes
• “The Love Song of the North American Douchebag†refers to the story with the same title by gyzym.
• “It Happens Like This†refers to the story with the same title by labeledbones.
• The fragments of Carver are a textual allusion to “A Passage That Sings†by Rave.
• “not common but essential†refers to the mind meld story with the same title by preromantics.