All Your Fates (Currently editing/updating)

Chapter 22: I'll Have Another One ~ Robert Mills

MUSIC:  BIF NAKED COVER OF METALLICA'S "NOTHING ELSE MATTERS"

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ATTICUS' POV

I slowly poured the cold beer, not bothering to tilt the glass.  Much more fun to watch the rising cloud of bubbles - and besides, it helps release the carbon dioxide and keeps me from getting gas.  The body betrays.

This local bar was not a regular haunt.  I only came here for scheduled meetings.  It was a place, like any other, only more so.  The music was not to my taste but gave me something to ignore and give me focus, like the vacuum cleaner Gould would turn on before practicing.

And today it was also a place to sit.  Some days are easier.  This wasn't one of those days.  Pain is, at best, a mere distraction.  At its worst it is an impenetrable fog that clouds reason.  My body may betray me but never my mind.

An aging body sucks.  It falters and fails regardless of how well tended.  Sore backs.  Sore knees. Oh, the knees!  Skin sags and wrinkles and the teeth determinedly race toward their expiry date.  It's the knees mostly, for me anyway.  The cane helps.  So does the beer - and the myriad of other "candy" I take to keep body and soul together.  Better living through chemistry.

Leaning forward I study the rising bubbles in the glass, those thin streaming lines of gaseous beads that lift and ripple to join the rest of their brethren heaped together on the surface of that delicious amber fluid. The surface of the head on the beer is equally fascinating, like a cumulus cloud observed from above, slowly seething as the countless small bubbles dance to their inevitable fate to connect, merge and ultimately pop - the surface tension of the liquid beer giving way to greater forces, tearing like a balloon in a Doc Edgerton slow motion photograph.

"As if millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror, and were suddenly silenced." a hoarse voice chuckled.

I looked up and saw him sitting across from me.  When had he sat down?  I could not have snuck in so deftly, not with my bum leg and aching ankles, but of course he didn't have to use my cane.

"It's just beer.", I said, surprised at the fatigue in my voice but not caring enough to conceal it.  Not from him.

He leaned forward, aping my own pose, and studied the beer.  "How can we be sure?", he asked idly, "There could be whole universes contained within that foam." and then he sat back and chuckled again.

"Just beer.", I repeated.

"You look tired."

"Get to the point."

The Atticus sitting across from me smiled gently, sweetly, the friendly wrinkles at the corners of his eyes doing little to conceal the intense avarice shining from those clear dark eyes.  Lucky bastard.  Everything I saw was tinged with a cloudy halo.  The knees.  The eyes.  I couldn't decide what I wanted more - his eyes or his knees - and then quickly decided what I really wanted was for him to stop wasting my time, get to the fucking point and then get out.

"Well?"

His smile dropped and he studied his fingers resting on the edge of the table.

"She needs to be stopped."

"Of course."

"No.  Not her.  The other one.  Yours."

His words stopped me for a moment but a quick assessment of his reasons and the inevitable outcome lead me to the same conclusion.

"Makes sense."

"Have you grown accustomed to her face?", he grinned.  He was mocking me.  I knew that.  He thought less of me than I of him but I found comfort in knowing I'd eventually have the upper hand.  Let him grin.  Agree to his plans.  Stick to your own plans, Atticus, I said to myself.  Time will prove me right.

"She is but one of many.  How should it be done?"

"I think you already know.  You should anyway.  If not I can always - "

"I know the Why's - but are there specifics to the How's?  Or doesn't that matter?"

"When she crosses. We want to make sure there aren't any loose ends."

Now it was my turn to chuckle. I lifted the beer and savoured the malty liquid before speaking.  "There are always loose ends."

"Not this time."

When I lowered the glass he was gone.  It always bothered me we couldn't make more of a show of these things.  A brilliant splash of light or a distant rumble of thunder.  But it was never like that.  Here.  There.  Gone.  No matter.

My knee was throbbing.  I reached into my jacket pocket and dug out the battered Tylenol tube that held my meds.  A talisman of sorts, it had ceased to hold simple drug store fare long ago and now contained my own collection of necessary pills.  I shook out the candy store into the palm of my hand and popped two vicoden, adding my liver to the list of eyes, knees, back and more.  The beer washed it down and once again when the glass came down I was greeted by the sight of another guest at my table.  People come and go so quickly around here.

Pepper squirmed in her seat as she made herself comfortable and flashed me a broad smile.  "You already ordered for me?"

"Did I?"

I looked down and saw there was indeed a drink before her.  Did I order it?  Did he?  No matter.  There it was. There she was.  Our Other.

"I need you to do something for me."

"Sure.  What?"

A clench in my back made me think I needed another vicoden but then I knew it was something else, some other sense prodding me to be alert and aware and to fight through the fog.  I smiled, trying to mimic the same smile the other Atticus had given to me from the very place where she now sat before me.

"Which one are you?"

Pepper ran her hands through her hair, lifting the dark bangs away from her brow to expose as much of her face as possible and flashed a wild open mouth smile at me, "Can't you tell?", and then collapsed in giggles.

Daughter.

Perhaps.

Close enough.

Perhaps.

It is a muddy soup which I stir amongst these worlds.

"I need you to tell me."

Pepper pouted and slouched back in her seat.  "What?  I'm Faye Dunaway and you're Jack Nicholson?"  She thrashed her head from side to side.  "Sister.  Daughter.  Sister!  Daughter!" and then fell forward snorting with laughter.

Daughter.

It could have been sister, daughter, niece - even wife.  The linked lines that encompassed our physical selves from world to world, binding us together in this not so tangled but oh so artful web would have allowed for any of these.  And I have wallowed in them all.  But that little piggy laugh of hers was the tell.

Daughter.

The Other One.  Mine.

"I need you to do something for me."

"You said that."

"I'm saying it again."

"Ok."

She settled back, waiting for my instructions.  This wasn't going to end well.  For her.  For me it would all play out according to plan.  It's good to have a plan.  Even when nothing can be truly anticipated it's good to have a plan.  To do, as Tom Waits sang: To keep a diamond in your mind.

She was delicious.  I know.  Daughter.  Sister.  Niece.  And yes, wife.  All of these she was, is and will ever be.  And I have had them all.  What does it matter?  Nothing to me.  Just so long as I get what I want.  What I deserve.  What will be mine.

The vicodin creeped through me, abetted by the beer, and the soreness in my limbs eased enough to comfort me in my decision.  She won't be missed.  At least not by me.

The head on my beer was gone, the surface of the amber liquid in the glass dancing with subtle bursts from those continuing single streams of rising gas, following one upon the other to their inevitable fate of reaching the surface and finding - nothing - and then gone.

There would be time to make all things right. Time to line up the bubbles. Time to contain it all within the glass held in my hand.  Time to change.

Pepper looked at me, expectant eyes probing, waiting to hear what path I would set her upon, waiting without knowing how her fate was already decided and had already been acted upon.  I smiled at her, doing my best impersonation of my better self and let her wait.

I had nothing but time.

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E/N

I hope you guys all liked this episode. Robert Mills is one of my FAVOURITE people of the world, and someone I like to call "my web series show dad." If you are a creator who is looking to break in or move forward, Robert is the best type to know: he is very encouraging and supportive of new talent -- always reminding us: Fuck it! Just do the work, don't ask for permission: do it! He's a huge inspiration for me, and I know for many others.

The next several chapters are all guest chapters coming up, and things are going to get a bit darker coming up.

C

Robert Mills' Bio

Writer, Director, Producer, Puppeteer, Curmudgeon.

I used to be a mime on the street; then I worked for the Muppets as a puppeteer and body costume performer doing things like Fraggle Rock, Labyrinth and a lot of other stuff. After that I began my own production company and helped make a whack of television shows for kids like The Big Comfy Couch, Ruffus The Dog, Panda Bear Daycare, Amigo & Me and Land O’ Hands.

Apparently I was good enough at it be nominated a whole bunch of times and won a Gemini and a Writers Guild award and some other things. It was fun.

I still work in TV from time time but not a lot. I was an Exec. Producer at KidsCBC for a while and I freelance as a writer and director when I get the chance.

Now I’m mostly making video things for the web like Ruffus The Dog and In Teh Toobs and Rubber Chicken Players. I do a lot of this shooting in my house. It’s convenient. All my stuff is here and there are snacks in the fridge.

I’m excited to be part of a group of web creators here in Toronto who, like many others around the world, are seizing the opportunity afforded to us by the disruptive tools of democratized media. That’s a shit load of buzzwords that means we don’t have to ask permission to make our works and reach an audience. I like that – a lot.

When I’m not pinching my head to splatter some brain juice on these blog pages I’m either writing scripts (call my agent, I need a paying gig) or directing or puppeteering or baking bread or cooking weird and obscure cuts of meat or coding some shitty app of my own or drawing cartoons or sleeping or wiping my ass or swilling beer at the Rhino Bar & Grill. In a perfect world I’d be able to do all of them all at the same time. Most of them anyway. Maybe someday.

The world is changing everyday. Enjoy the ride.