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Western Carolinian Volume 61 Number 07 (08)

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  • 12 invisible academy WA9M\ 'Smoking" Continued from page 11 call sometime or something ... if you want to." "Definitely!" He hugged her again. His hand traveled to the base of her spine, and rested there. "I'll definitely call you." "OK . . . Well, I'll see you around then." She backed away. "Oops! Excuse me." She tripped over a small hairy man in thick glasses who was talking to his terminal and all but ran to her seat. Mark arched an eyebrow at her. "Is the social hour over now? Can we get on with this?" "I'm sorry OK?" She glanced over her shoulder to where Paul peered around his monitor at her and waved. "You're right. This computer thing is pretty bad ass. I could get into this." "I'll just bet you could." * * * The sun felt good. Really good. Grace closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall of the English building. She took a long, slow drag off of her cigarette and sighed. Just enough breeze to make the day perfect. Classes were just getting out. She heard people chattering as they passed her. She raised a hand without opening her eyes to the occasional "Hi Grace." They probably thought she was high. Not that it mattered. The traffic around her picked up. Grace knew that soon she would need to hop off her perch and go to class. She probably wouldn't, but she needed to. The cigarette was burning her fingers. She flicked it over the wall and felt around for another one in the front pocket of her backpack. "Paul. Damn." She lit the cigarette. She hadn't seen him in two years. "Crazy." It wasn't a big campus, either. They just didn't run in the same circles. Paul and Sharon had broken up after a couple months. Grace had moved out of the dorm and off campus as soon as she could. She had completely lost track of the both of them. Erica had dropped out of school and joined the Temple of the Perpetual High in New Mexico. Grace hadn't seen her in two years. To be perfectly honest, she hadn't even thought of Paul in a year. But he sure did look good. "Damn." Grace shook her head and sat up. Maybe she'd go get her E-mail. "Who are you talking to, Grace?" She jumped. Mark leaned on the building behind her. "Shit Mark! Why do you do that?" Grace leapt off the wall and punched him in the shoulder. "I hate to be surprised." She hit him again. "Fucker." And grinned. "Geez! Do you have to hit so hard?" Mark rubbed his shoulder. "Why aren't you in class?" "I could ask you the same question." She grabbed her backpack. "Well I was on my way to class when I saw this vision of loveliness perched on a wall, obviously daydreaming her life away." He put an arm around her. "Really? Where'd she go? Did you get her number?" Grace elbowed him in the stomach and ducked out of his grasp. "Hey! Where are you going? Class is the other way!" "I know. I'm going to check my E-mail. I'll meet you after class. We can go get coffee. Later!" She ran off towards the science building. Mark watched her go. "Yeah, I bet you're gonna check your E-mail." He swung around and lurched towards class. "I've created a monster." * * * She was not waiting by the phone. She was lying on the unmade bed, staring at the clock on the VCR. The phone was in the living room. Grace watched it change from 11:33 to 11:34. She 1 took a sip of her coffee and wrinkled her nose. Tepid. She got up and went to the kitchen. There were about two inches of thick black liquid that closely resembled crude oil in the bottom of the coffee pot. Grace emptied it into her cup. She added 5 sugars and two creamers, grabbed her cigarettes off the counter and stepped outside. On the way by she picked up the receiver—just to make sure there was still a dial tone. There was. "Shit." She stepped out the back door, left it cracked—just in case. Paul was supposed to call. He'd said he'd call when he got back from wherever it was he was going. Grace had seen him again in the lab. He'd hugged her and asked for her number. Said they should really get together and catch up. Grace was all for catching up. He still lived in the dorm, so she had invited him over to her apartment. He'd said great and he would call before he came over. "So why isn't he calling?!?" Grace flicked the cigarette into the driveway and hugged her knees to her chest. "Shit. This is stupid." "Why isn't who calling you, Grace?" Mark walked out of the shadows beside the stoop. Grace jumped. "God dammit, Mark! Why do you keep doing that?!?" She lit another cigarette. "Shit. How long have you been standing there?" She shuddered. Sometimes he gave her the creeps. "Not long." He sat on the steps below her. "I heard you come out. You seemed kind of lost in thought, so 1 decided not to disturb you for a minute." He reached for her mug of coffee. "May I?" "Sure." "Actually, I was standing in the shadows enthralled by the halo of yellow light surrounding your perfect profile and imagining you staring out to sea, waiting for someone to come home. . ." His eyes looked dreamy. "Until you so rudely and obscenely. I might add, interrupted me." He put the mug down and leaned back with a self-satisfied smile. "Yeah whatever." Grace took the mug. "You decided to take a piss outside and figured you'd do it in front of my house instead of yours." She grinned. "What are you drinking?" "What makes you think I've been drinking? Can I have a cigarette?" "I guess, and I just knew. What is it?" She handed him the pack. "I suppose you want a light, too." "That would be divine." He took the lighter from her. "So who's calling?" "No one." She looked out at the driveway. "Oh, No One. I always talk to myself when they don't call, too." "Fuck you Mark." The phone rang. She leapt to her feet. "Excuse me for a moment, please." She raced in the front door and grabbed the receiver . "Hello? Oh. Hi, Mom." She heard Mark snicker. "I'm fine. Can I call you back? I'm expecting a call. OK. Bye. Tomorrow. Uh-huh. OK—bye. Ok- bye. Ok. OK. I love you, too. Ok-bye. Bye. BYE." She hung up. "Damn." She went back out. "Was it No One?" Mark pulled a pint of vodka out of his trench coat, took a shot, and offered the bottle to Grace. "No. Goddamnit. It wasn't No One. It was Someone." She took the bottle, wiped off the rim and took a shot. "It was my mother." "Ah! Mom." He moved up next to her. "So who is he." "Paul." She took another shot and gave the bottle back. 'The computer dude?" 'That's the one. We were friends a long time ago, then a bunch of stupid shit happened and then we met again. Fuck it." She rubbed the back of her "Smoking" Continued on page 13 Chris Carrier: 5 Poems Untitled I want to write a poem to write about but what is important enough the woman I saw today who said hello with her gentle red lips curved to the shape of the syllables with her green coat and restrained brown locks or the way I felt again at 2 pm when my drove out of my day I'm alone x-girlfriend of 27 months the way the intelligent computer treated me like an idiot child invalid can't do that how the rain cast grayness the mountains like a cotton ocean shiver across my shoulders or the clouds lapping up on the streets and a a sea of cotton candy or. . Untitled I never loved any night I couldn't love you. Laying in between the black sheets of blackness a pair of snakes in charge of molding each other cast by the night and the night loved you like I wished to enveloping every corner of skin arousing you in ways we will never again see. Untitled We sat across from each other talking about things we had to do and why— you leaned and kissed me and why must anyone wake from the impos' sible- is-possible dream of night Kiss me again and for what— kiss me for love and the time we've spent too little too long ago kiss me for the sake of or maybe you do love me and how would I know when blinded by the ugly morning 300 miles long and the words of a letter written for what— For the day that must come like the dream it was. 13 "Carrier Poems " Continued on page
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