Monty: The Androgynous, Philosophical, Arson Enthusiast

Spirals

"I like your friends," Daria says after a while.

She's looking at me, really looking at me and wanting to see me. I think I'm in trouble here so I try not to look back as we walk. We head towards nothing in particular and Daria fills the silence of the streets with stories and laughter. There is a magic and I am wringing my hands at the sound of her miraculous laugh. A laugh that comes up without obstruction or filtering.

"I so like to night walk," Daria sighs.

"Why do you like it?"

"Because it makes me feel like I shouldn't be doing it."

I wait for her to continue.

"It's like I'm winning back my time."

"Back from where?"

Daria sighs again, "It feels stolen sometimes, by obligation I guess. You probably don't know what I mean, I guess it's not something you would allow."

Daria's hand brushes mine and it sends sparks through my heavy limbs.

I clear my throat, "People are weird about time. They think it's money but it isn't. We made money, it's a figment of our imaginations. But we let it trap us, it's crazy. Time is more than us, it's an ancient more."

"Monty, I need to know all about you," Daria breathes.

Ah, here it is, inevitably. How do I tell her that I am not real, that I am not Monty, that I am here only to witness Daria herself. I shrug and turn my face to the city passing around us, looking for escape routes.

"Not much to know," I murmur.

"Well I don't believe that for a second."

I look back at her but can't for long. There is a vibration coming off Daria in waves that make it hard to meet her eye. I am so damn heavy in my shoes, like I am too solid and all here. I can't have that, no, no I can't. That coldness creeps through me like a vine. Things, are gaining at my heels.

Daria folds in concern, "Hey, what is it?"

I suck in a big gulp of air, "Have you ever been to the desert?"

"No I can't say I have, is that where you've been?"

"Ah, yeah mostly.... The desert is the place of places. You should really go Daria, for sure. The orange earth beneath you, and the heat is like something you're swimming in. It feels so rusty all of the time because everything is worn out, everything. The sun does that, it rips everything away and ages it. But then it's crawling with life, and when it rains, it's all just bubbling over to exist. It's another planet to here and it's not really that far. Just hop on a few buses and a few trains and you're there in the heat of it."

"It certainly sounds astonishing. Oh I really want to go!"

A way out blooms inside my thoughts and, against my will, my chest fills with white, bubbling, liquid hope. I stop short and face her for real.

"Daria, let's go then, right now."

"To the desert?" Her eyes flick to my lips and back up again, "Right now?"

I'm shaking with it now, especially with her so close. My attention flits around everything.

"Right now!" I declare.

Daria pushes some of my unruly curls back off my forehead and her hand lingers just near my face. So near that I can feel its warmth and I pause, I slow and I see Daria.

"Come home with me?" She says.

Somehow I hear myself say, "Yes."

Her apartment is small and painted a worn and cracked yellow. I feel about 8 feet tall inside, so I hunch and try to fit nicely. There's a sad brown couch against one of the walls and a drink stand with four crystal glasses and a decanter full of whiskey. The type that were only ever in the offices of men in the 1950s.