The Empty Sky
By Kanchat Rangseekansong
The story begins like this, she apparently calls me and says she will come to my home today. Yes, today, she really means it. In fact, she has done it before about four times. Come to my place without concerning my comfort. But she did it. All the time since I have known her, she really did it. But who can be so cruel to deny her. Not me, absolutely. I run to the shower as soon as I hung up to her. And she is the real pain, always rings my bell when I use my time in the bathroom. For all the time, I get down to open that goddamn door with my soaked hair. Hi, she says to me and rushes into my house as if it is her own. Actually, she knows it very well. Then she makes a greet with my dog, that nearly dying dog. It seems her greeting to it is better than mine. Anyway, it does not have any reactions to her. My dog is motionless for years ago. Amazing, he is still alive, Again, she says this sentence about four times too. Every time she gets back her home, her last word is In the next time, I bet your dog already gone. Nevertheless, I dont upset at all because she is right. But she is not quite good in guessing. My dog still has its breath.
Are you alone? she asks me as leaving that old dog.
Yeah, I reply mumblingly.
You are always alone when I make a visit.
To be precise, not only in this house, but Im alone to this fucking world.
She gives me no response, but only chuckling. Im glad that she has never asked me about my parents. Thats why she is continually in my place. I love the way she respects my private matter. Meanwhile, I respect hers too. As I know she has some secrets about her father. She never really talks about him. As if he has disappeared for a long time. To be honest, I dont want to know that kind of stuff. I only interest about her. I can feel that she appreciates my respect very much.
In my room, she is wandering around, looking at a pile of DVD. I think your museum is bigger, isnt it? That is the way she calls my room. I think so, I answer while drying out my goddam wet hair. Where to put them down? She means some DVDs that she had taken out for weeks ago. I dont say anything but just grab this thing from her hand and throw them away to my table. How about them? I question her without any expectation. Good, very good, but one of them made me sleepy as hell. I shortly laugh out and not extend this conversation. Im not in the mood for movie things. But her immediate reply impresses me much. I can tell it is not a fake one. She is always sincere, never try to be smart. That is the second reason I like her. I still remember the day she borrowed me Jean-Luc Godards DVDs. It was such a moment of blissfulness. You can hardly find a girl who interests in Godard. Although she does not like them much, Im still OK. Thanks God that she is not a kind of Notting Hill-ism. She will never say such a foolish sentence like I'm just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her...and blah blah blah. When Im dating with a girl, I frequently asked about her favorite film. Notting Hill is always their answers. I feel depressed every time when I heard that. And I will not meet her again. Anyway, if I meet a girl who fascinates in Bergmans, I will make my guess that she is sexless. Luckily, I have never seen that one.
She is still lingering with my stuff. Unexpectedly, she picks my book up, the one on the top of the pile, J.D.Salingers The Catcher in the Rye. I think you already finished it, She says with a bit surprise. I gonna start my third for that book. Her amaze is speedily rising. Surely, I have expected this type of feedback.
Why do you addict to this book so much?
I like it, thats all. In fact, I have a lot to say about my passion to this one. But we are not in the literature class. But I still ask her Have you ever read it?
Yes, I have, but I cant identify myself with the protagonist.
No surprise, you are female.
Oh no, stop your sexual discrimination.
All right. Im sorry. I just forgot a little while that she is slightly a feminist.
I think he immersed with himself too much, that man, Holden
what the hell is his last name?
Caulfield
Holden Caulfield, I reply instantly.
Yeah, you have used it as your MSN name about two weeks. This beast has such a good memory, especially for MSN things, but not the poor Holden. Both of us rarely talked on the phone. We are cyber-world people so we prefer chatting to talking.
Is there another one youre reading now? I can guess she tries to get out of Holdens life.
The Bell Jar, the only novel of Sylvia Plath
Any interesting?
They have said The Bell Jar is like The Catcher in the Rye in female part
Jesus! I think you better read Gwyneth Paltrows biography. I laugh out loud and right away. She has a good sense of humor. It gets along with mine well. I really hate it when people try to make me laugh, but they dont at all. It makes me feel suffocated. This time, it looks like she will stay for a while with Sylvia. She continues our conversation.
She is the one who said I talk to God, but the sky is empty, right?
Absolutely
This is also your MSN name, for a month. The evidence of her good memory comes again.
It is my most favorite quote of all.
I think it is too desperate.
But you know, it is true. I think I try my best to say it unemotionally. But there is still a bitter taste in my mouth. Its a taste of depression. Goddamn it! Its my big mistake of the day. I dont mean to say it sarcastically or ironically at all. That word is a forbidden one. But I just said it. I really did. And it violently ruins our conversation, and also our mood. I can get it because of her long pause. Actually, I know she is not a kind of sensitive girl. She is much stronger than me. Since I have known her, I rarely see her tear. In contrast, Im the one who call her and cry like a madman. I only phoned her when I have an emotional breakdown. The only time I saw her tear is the day we went to see that Chinese movie in the festival. I cant remember the title but it was about a daughter who only lived with her father. There was one scene that both of them have such a long conversation. At the time, she cried like hell rising, I was really surprised but depressed as well. To tell the truth, I really want to hold her hands, I think I should do it. But I didnt. And I dont know why. Anyway, I just cant bear this very long silence anymore. I have to give my room lively again. So I decide to ask her something which I have planned for it before.
Do you remember the day you ask me about that porn stuff?
What? OK, at least, I can let her out of the meditation.
You have asked me why the male has to ejaculate to the females face or mouth.
Ah huh, She mutters. And you said it is just a kind of males fantasy. That crap is a product only for men. It is my own fault to watch that goddamn movie. Here comes the third evidence of her good memory.
Oh, my dear, dont be so dramatic. I didnt exactly say that.
Anyway, what is your point?
I just wanna tell you, I want to do that with you.
What? She says this word again but with a hundred of exclamation marks.
I want to shoot my semen to your mouth, is that clear? I swear I say it without any embarrassment. Besides, I speak as clear as I can. Then, a long pause is returning to my room. She makes a face which is hard to describe. But Im sure she does not mad at me or something like that. I know her very well. She has a very opened-mind for sex issue. And she knows that Im such a big sex maniac in this town. I like the way she does not care about only herself, she is always curios about the other side. I mean the man. We usually discuss about this topic. Im glad that she is not the girl who sees the penis for the first time on her honeymoon trip. Im very depressed when I think about that. Undoubtedly, this country is still defined as the developing one.
It seems her consciousness just comes back for a long trip. She takes a breath, and then asks me, Why did you tell me that goddamn thing?
I dont know, but if I dont tell you, I will sorry for the rest of my life Frankly, I dont try to be so dramatic. But Im just telling the truth.
Is that a kind of love confession?
Maybe, my dear, you know my style.
Yes, your fucking splendid style. She speaks with her sarcastic tone. But she immediately goes on, Are there other things you want to do with me, huh? Just tell me, tell me all.
In fact, many things, but what I have told you before is the ultimate. I say about it indirectly. I think I should not repeat it for the second time.
It looks like she is enjoying with this conversation, she continues her inquiry. When youre masturbating, you think of me, arent you?
To be honest, I have to say yes. I wont do it with Margaret Thatcher for sure.
How many times? I swear again she asks me curiously.
Oh, dear, even I have got an A in Statistics, but I didnt count for this. Im not sure my jest is work or not. But if Im not wrong I hear her chuckle. Now, she is out of her questions. And she turns to linger with my boring stuff again. Im sort of looking at her to find out what she is thinking about, just now, in her mind. But Im very sure that she does not feel bad much at my confession. In fact, I dont care much about guessing her feeling. I never know what she thinks or feels. Moreover, I dont even ask about those things, and so does she. If we question too much about each others inner thought, we will ruin our friendship and all. And then the worst part is coming. She is looking at her wristwatch. That is the thing I hope it wont happen. But it finally came. I truly know what she will say. Then she really says it.
Hey, I gotta go. I have a lot of things to do. About packing my fucking stuff and all, She says it routinely. But it almost breaks my heart. Anyway, I still keep my emotion as smooth as I can. I dont say anything for a while. I think I should say something that is good for her. Something is really good. But I cant. I really cant do it. Finally, I end up with this stupid question.
How long will you be there?
Jesus! You ask me for thousand times.
Im sorry, but without you, I will be lonely as hell.
Stop that, dude, it is very cliche, you know
At this moment, I hate myself very much. I should not ask her that goddamn question. I should not express that cliche words. But what can I do now? I dont really know. This is my last chance but I still say that boring stuff. For Gods sake! I hate myself enough to blow my head in front of her. I really mean it. But I suddenly realize I almost run out of my time. I have to say something. I really do. It is not smart things at all. But I have to do this.
Can you do me a favor? I ask her unconfidently.
What now? You want to shoot in my mouth as a goodbye?
Can I hold you?
She has just a little pause but instantly reply, Sure, but why not a kiss? She says teasingly. But I know she is serious as well.
I think kissing is too sad.
After my words, she keeps quiet for a second, and then says Youre right, my friend, and it will remain us a deep pain. Honestly, I think it is the smartest thing she has ever said. And it is so real. I believe both of us feel depressed as hell. Apparently, we hold each other. I hold her very tight and she does it too. Its hard to describe my feeling right now. I feel happy but sad as well. I feel Im very close to her but far way from her in the same time. I hope this moment will remain forever like we push a pause button in remote control. But I also want to finish it as soon as possible. Because the more I have her in my arms, the more I feel depressed. Finally, we part from each other. We do it precisely at the same second. And then its like we have a huge space between us. I dont say anything and so does she. I feel like I have lost all of my words in this day. And I will not speak for a week. But I have to get rid of this shadowy mood. I have to say something, again.
You know what, I have never had my first kiss.
Really?
And I think its not worth to lose mine with you.
Bastard! You are such an arrogant bastard!
I laugh out loud, I like the way she reacts very much, and I ask her, Have you ever had your first kiss?
That is a forbidden question. It is a kind of womans secret, you know, She says and giggles a little bit. I think that kind of behavior makes her more charming. And I dont give a damn about her first kiss. Even her virginity. I dont really care about it. None of my business at all. The only thing I know I feel so happy to see her in the good mood again. Her charm shines out most when she is in the good mood. And I really like it. So I think it is time for our goodbye. I cant take this longer anymore. To tell the truth, Im very tired. I want to get some sleep. So I say my last word.
I hope I dont make you feel, uh, disgusting. I mean about those disgusting stuffs I have said. You neednt care about--
Dont worry, my friend, I know your style.
I shut up my mouth and dont say anything at all. I know if I say just the only one word, I will ruin it all. So what I do, I just come down with her at the first floor. That goddamn old dog still sleeps at the same place since she has come to my home. But its different now. Because she does not say that sentence, In the next time, I bet your dog already gone, she does not say it anymore. In fact, she does not say anything. And so do I. I walk along with her till the front door. I just make my farewell to her at that goddamn door. I know she wont let me give her a ride or anything. She wants to finish here and now. And I want it in the same way. So all the things are just like this, as simple as possible. And then I return to my room. Im sitting in my bed and looking out my window to the empty sky. And all of a sudden, I know I will miss her very much.
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This is my first English short story. I have to apologize I have written it with my poor English. But when you finish it you may understand why I have to do it this way.
Any kind of comments are always welcome.
I dedicated this short story to someone who is very meaningful to my life.
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Bioscope Vol.75 (Feb 2008)
Fot this issue, I have contributed two artcles; The Diving Bell and the Butterfly and There Will Be Blood.