Brief Pose by Wesley McCraw
I search the store for Yuki. Adam huddles in the corner with a rugby ball, BP catalogs scattered around him. He manically searches through them, going from one to the next as if they aren’t all the same. Was it actually him in my fantasy? If Yuki can go into the catalog, why not Adam?
The commotion outside increases, and I hear chanting but can’t make out the words.
Yuki is my only priority. She has to be here.
As I make my way through the men's section, a manic Hunter grabs me by the arm. His unrolled sleeves violate the dress code. “My dad lives on the other side of the country.”
“Is Yuki here?”
“There’s no way I've been talking to him.” Hunter’s eyes are wide and searching.
“Did Tara put you up to this?”
“You haven't heard about my dad?”
“What about him?”
Hunter doesn’t say. I shake him off.
Tara meditates on the sales counter in Lotus Pose with a BP catalog open in her lap. Fiona sprays the shelves with a BUG KILLER.
I cough. I can taste the insecticide in the air.
“Buddha wants this,” Tara says. “It'll tear down the walls.” I’m not sure if she’s talking to me, Fiona, or herself. The store feels less real than inside the catalog. At least there, the people made sense. I can’t deal with this right now.
The stock room is empty. The naked mannequin is still seated on the counter. Yuki isn’t listed on the schedule on the wall. I run through the column of names twice.
I retreat through the women's section.
Hunter follows close at my heels. “I know my dad isn’t really here. They're the crazy ones. Not me.”
“What are you talking about?!”
“They’re just like your friend, Marshall. He sees his dead family. He told me. He should be put away.”
“I don’t have time for this!”
I escape out the front door, leaving Hunter behind, and push my way through the protesters. I hurry across the street and into my old work.
Loo’s salt and pepper shakers have been replaced with generic ones. Her taxidermied blowfish has been removed from the shelf. I reach under one of the tables and feel the loose mesh of a fishing net. It’s still there. Not everything is gone, but it’s only a matter of time.
JuanCarlos wipes down a table. He sees me. “You shouldn't be here,” he says.
I want to yell at him for letting them change things, but I have more pressing matters. “Yesterday, when you came into Brief Pose, I was setting up a display with my friend Yuki.”
He stops wiping. “What are you asking?”
“Tara was at the cash register, and Yuki was sitting on the counter behind me, on her cell phone, I think. She's Asian. She has straight, black hair. She’s about Loo’s height. A little taller.”
“You're serious.”
“Yeah.”
He squints, eyeing me with skepticism. “I didn’t think BP hired Asians.”
“This isn’t a joke!”
“It was just you and Tara.”
I can’t breathe. What’s happening?
“Relax. Just tell me what’s wrong. Tara's been acting strange too.”
Yuki isn’t real. Yuki, the catalog, everything that’s been happening, it’s all been an attempt to escape my real life.
I go back behind the counter and pull out a BP catalog that I stashed there a couple of weeks ago. I throw it in the trash. “Do you think it's a coincidence?” I say.
“What are you talking about?”
Shirin and Mindy stand at the counter. What are they doing here!? From a prescription bottle, Mindy pours pills into her hand.
Is this some kind of sick joke?
“Eric,” JuanCarlos says. “What's wrong?” But I barely hear him.
Shirin and Mindy stare at me, now both holding the piles of red pills.
“You aren't here,” I say. It’s more of a hope than a belief.
They shove the masses of pills into their faces.
“Don’t!”
They foam at the mouth. They grin, even as they retch.
“Get away from me!”
But Mindy and Shirin are no longer here. The customers back away, thinking I'm talking to them.
I’ve lost my mind. Something in me has snapped. Loo was trying to warn me that Yuki was a false escape. But Loo is dead, it was me warning myself, and if Yuki isn’t real…
“Oh God, I’ve lost everyone!”
I lean back against the wall. My legs feel weak. I can’t think my way out of this, not if reality keeps slipping. Intellectually I’ve already accepted what I’ve lost. But emotionally, it’s like this is all happening to someone else. The only time I feel anything strongly is in a fake reality. When I’m with Yuki, I’m in love. When I’m in the world inside the catalog, I’m alive. Fantasy is the only place I exist. If I’m rational enough, if I can just see clearly, there has to be a solution. But if I’m going insane, I can’t trust my thoughts. My thoughts will get me killed.
“Help me understand,” JuanCarlos says. “Tara's getting worse too.”
Dan, on the cover the BP catalog, stares back up at me from the wastebasket. He doesn’t deserve the trash. He could comfort me. In the paradise inside the catalog, love was everywhere. I could feel that again.
“Eric, talk to me!”
I can’t explain this. No one would understand.
I run from him and down the sidewalk. The only thing that stops me is the crosswalk. The protester with his camera, he’s always getting shots of me for some reason. He recorded me with Yuki. He has proof she exists if he still has the footage. I run back.
He lowers his camera.
“What’s your name, kid?”
“Bram.”
“Do you have the footage from yesterday?”
He nods.
“I need to see. You filmed me in the alley behind the store. I yelled at you. Do remember?”
He nods again.
“Show me?”
I stand beside him so I can see the screen. He searches the footage. “There!” There I am in the alley alone, smoking a cigarette. I was talking to myself, but I look happy.
“I don’t smoke.”
He glances down at my pants. There’s a rectangular lump in my pocket. It’s not my wallet. It’s a half-used hard box of cigarettes. When did I buy them? How long have they been in my pocket without me noticing?
“Do you smoke?”
He nods.
I give him the pack and run as if I’m being chased by the devil. I run until my burning lungs force me to slow down. There’s no escape. The only place to go is back to my apartment. My apartment has countless catalogs. Pages still cover the walls. I consider waiting it out on the street. Loo’s funeral is tonight. It’s the only thing that might be able to anchor me to reality. It’s my only chance.
I pat my pockets and realize I left my cell phone back at my apartment.
What choice do I have? I need to text Victor my address. I have to go back to my apartment and face this.
I enter my living room. Yuki sleeps in a flowing white dress, the opposite of anything Loo would ever wear.
How long have I been hallucinating? New Year’s I covered the wall with a BP collage. No. It started before that. I was miserable after Mom and Dad died, but still sane. I thought grief would kill me after I dropped out of college, but I made it through. My life felt even more hopeless after I hit rock bottom and was rejected by Mindy and Shirin, but I thought I could start again. When did my grip on reality slip?
I kneel beside Yuki and reach out and touch her face. It’s scary how real she feels. She wakes with a smile that could be my total unraveling.
I look away.
“I thought you wouldn't mind if I let myself in,” she says.
“You're not real. Please leave.”
She laughs at the absurdity and sits up.
I close my eyes. What I’m seeing is a lie. I can't take this. “Please, ju
I open my eyes, hoping she will have vanished, but she's still there.
“God, you're serious,” she says.
Determined, I pull her up off the bed and toward the front door. She breaks free.
“I spent Thanksgiving night alone, looking at that damn catalog and the next day, I see you. That was my first mental break. That’s when it all started to come apart.”
“Just like that.”
“I've been depressed.”
“Depression isn't the same as hallucinating an imaginary co-worker. Listen to yourself. I’m standing right here.”
I shake my head.
Her eyes tear up as if I’ve slapped her. “You love me. I know you do.”
“You don't exist.”
She steps forward and kisses me.
I pull back. “Stop.”
“Did that feel real?”
The potential between us gives me a rush and quickens my pulse. I become light headed. She kisses me again.
“And that?” she asks.
I can’t deny the lust I feel. I want this more than anything and lean in, and we continue to kiss. She’s as real as the floor beneath my feet. As real as my own racing heart. At first, our kiss is tentative, exploring each other’s lips, but soon gives way to desperation.
I don’t think, except that I want her. And it’s not even a thought; it’s an almost painful compulsion.
We fall onto the bed, me on top. I want against every part of her. I want to prove her solidity. I pull up her dress and grind into her, and she pulls me tight. We continue kissing as I rub against her, and I worry this is all crazy, that I’m crazy, but then she undoes my belt, pulls down my pants, and guides me into her. I tremble like a virgin. Then as we thrust against each other, the pleasure pushes away any anxiety.
“Fuck...” I say, dazed from the sensation. I prop myself up, extending my arms. Our hips hit together as I try to go as deep as I can. “Fuck. It feels too good.”
“Then come,” she says. “Come inside me.”
I quicken my pace to push myself over the edge, and as I orgasm, there's a KNOCK on the front door. I say over my shoulder, “Coming!” I collapse, still shuddering from the release. I roll off and pull up my underwear and my jeans and sit on the edge of the mattress. “I'm going to answer that, and I want you to leave.”
She throws her arms around me, her breasts against my bare back. “Forget Victor.”
I pull free and do up my fly. My legs feel unsteady as I cross the room.
I open the door. Victor wears a suit and holds a bouquet of Daffodils as if on a date. He glances at my bare chest.
I act casual even though I forgot to put on a shirt. “Come in. Sorry about the mess.”
Victor enters and doesn't see Yuki. I motion her to leave.
“I'm not going anywhere.” She plops down on the love seat.
I close the door. “You're early.”
“Am I?” Victor says. “I didn't realize.”
“Yeah right.” Yuki makes her jealousy obvious.
I give her a glare.
Victor goes to sit on the love seat, and Yuki moves up onto the arm so she doesn’t get sat on. He sets the Daffodils on his lap and grabs a BP catalog off the floor so he can flip through it. “Aren't you getting ready?”
I snag a dress shirt and tie and go into the bathroom.
“I'll be back,” Yuki says to Victor, even though he still doesn't see or hear her.
I button up the shirt in front of the bathroom mirror. Yuki stands beside me.
“I'm pleading,” she says. “Don't go.”
Yuki is the part of me that longs to escape into fantasy. If I choose fantasy, how long before the escapism turns into a darker madness? I almost died once. I’ve already seen darker manifestations. If I choose fantasy, those darker manifestations will claim me; I’m sure of it. I have to stay strong.
To survive this, to get rid of Yuki, I need to face the harsh reality of death and loss at Loo’s funeral. Only then can I come to terms and get better.
“Fine, have it your way.” Yuki crosses her arms. “Loo's death wasn't an accident.”
I keep tying my tie. “You're my imagination. You can't tell the truth.”
“I'm your subconscious. I know the truth better than you do.”
I picture Loo in the rain, walking at a distance on the sidewalk, not far from my apartment. I stalk her. Is this my imagination or memory?
My only defense is to focus on the here and now. I'm in my bathroom getting ready for Loo’s funeral. I didn’t kill Loo.
“You're completely delusional, and you don't think you could've killed someone?”
“Why? Why would I kill Loo?” It doesn’t make any sense.
Cars rush by on the wet street as Loo waits for a crosswalk signal. Whoosh-whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Just a few feet is the difference between safe on the sidewalk and hit by a car. Loo would become one more accident statistic.
Yuki won’t stop: “Your foster parents’ death made you feel out of control. To get that control back you pushed everyone away. When Loo got too close, you pushed her away… into traffic.”
“That’s not true.”
“Tell me this: What did you do after Loo left your apartment?”
I can’t think. The street is wet, but it’s not raining anymore. Loo stands so close to oblivion. A small push would end her.
“You can't remember, can you? All you remember is that nightmare about Santa and the subway. Isn’t it strange you can remember a dream about a twisted Santa, but not what happened after Loo left your apartment?”
Just because I can’t remember doesn’t mean I killed Loo. I must have stayed home, probably looked at the catalog and jacked off and went to bed. Or I was too depressed and just went to bed early. I can’t remember because nothing out of the ordinary happened. Yuki is playing mind games. This is some last ditch effort to get me to choose fantasy instead of going to the funeral. The funeral scares me. I’ll have to be around people. I’ll have to think about Loo. And my foster parents. I’ll have to feel something besides this horrible numbness. God! This breakdown has been a long time coming, hasn’t it? Loo’s funeral is the final climax of my story. The big emotional showdown I’ve been waiting for.
Yuki follows me out of the bathroom.
Victor gets up from the couch. “Who were you talking to?”
“No one. Let's go.”
15.2
Outside my apartment building, I stand on the sidewalk in my suit as my anxiety rises. An SUV pulls up. I walk around to the passenger side and get in.
Victor drives. Yuki is in the back. I feel like I’m driving to my execution.
“I overheard you in the bathroom saying something about Loo,” Victor says. “Did they call you? Did they find him?”
“Find who?” I say.
“Loo's killer.”
“I thought she died in an accident.”
“Sort of.”
“You can escape this,” Yuki says from the back.
I ignore her. “What do you mean, sort of?”
“Are you sure you want to hear this?”
“Say no,” Yuki says.
“Yes, tell me.”
“She was pushed into traffic. A witness came forward this morning. I guess the police are staking out the funeral as we speak.”
I close my eyes and live in the darkness behind my eyelids. This can’t be happening. Did I really kill Loo?
Yuki tells me in a harsh whisper, “We need to think of a—”
I talk over her. “I hope they catch the bastard.”
“Get out of the car at the next stoplight, Eric. Eric, listen to me. They'll catch you.”
“Do you have your speech worked out yet?” Victor asks.
I forgot I have to give a eulogy in front of a crowd, including her mom, all of her friends, and now the police. They all deserve to know.
I open my eyes.
“I have a few t
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
All is Lost
16.1
This could be the set of a heavy metal music video. Loo’s body seems even smaller than normal in the huge, black casket. Bundles of roses on either side surround two large candelabras. She’d like the morbid atmosphere of death and grieving. MOURNERS, clothed in black, fill the pews. Goths, with all their skulls and horror movies, like death as an aesthetic, but when death actually happens, I suspect they’re just as lost as the rest of us.
I sit by Victor in the fifth row. Yuki stands behind me, hovering like an over protective mother.
Tara and JuanCarlos comfort each other near the front.
Marshall stands in the back. I had no idea he even knew Loo, but he spends his days outside the coffee shop, so it makes sense that they’d met at some point.
I don’t see the police, but if they were staking out the place, they wouldn’t want to frighten their skittish prey.
While the priest mumbles in a dull drone, Yuki leans forward next to my ear. “Whether I'm real or not, I don't want you in pain. You've hurt enough.”
In her casket, Loo resembles a Gothic porcelain doll.
“But you pushed her into traffic. It's time to go. Come away with me, to paradise.”
Victor puts his hand on my knee in an intimate show of solidarity. I should be the one comforting him. I put my hand on his hand, surprising myself. I don’t want to let him down.
Yuki stands. “Come with me. He’ll be none the wiser.”
I let go of Victor's hand (things between us could have turned out so differently) and stand up. Everyone here loved Loo. I took that from them. The gravity of that is crushing. I’ve caused these people the pain I’ve been struggling with for the past two years. How many lives have I ruined?
Yuki can give me love and acceptance instead of this guilt and grief. She can take me away from this and give me something to live for. We walk together to the aisle.
She starts toward the exit, and we part as I make my way toward the pulpit.
So as not to feel so vulnerable, I use the pulpit as a sort of shield from their expectant gaze. The crowd politely waits in silence. I wipe cold sweat from my brow.
Yuki stands at the back, her head low. She has failed. She wants me to be happy, but that’s not how life works.
I clear my throat.
“Loo's mother asked me to say a few words.” It’s hard to get my voice to come out above a whisper. I clear my throat again. “I worked with Loo, but we weren't close. I was too closed off. But that's the thing about Loo: she connects with people, even if they don't want her to.”