Interlude 2: Part 3

                The following is the third and final part of a short story that I wrote as an assignment for my Honors class at school. It's a rough edit, and not the greatest of stories, but I very much enjoyed writing it, and I wanted a chance to share it with people. It's a lengthy read, and I'm posting it in three parts, all of which are probably twice as long as a regular blog post. But, if you're bored, or need a good distraction, I offer this to you:

When he opened his eyes again, he found himself lying on a cold concrete floor. He looked around for a moment, examining his surrounds. He was in a large, roomy space, flanked by 3 white walls and a large door on a track that lifted it up into parallel with the ceiling. There were boxes everywhere, labeled with the words “Christmas decorations,” and “keepsakes.” Off to one side of the room was a large work bench, with various tools and automobile parts laid out on top of it, which were assumedly once part of the large blue-striped 1978 Chevrolet truck that was resting in the middle of the room. The hood was open, to reveal the engine, which looked to be all together much newer than the body of the truck it sat in. Evan recognized this place as well. It was Matt’s garage, messy as ever. He used it much more like a workshop than a storage space, though to hear Matt’s mother tell it, the garage’s true purpose was to act as a shrine to the old truck.

As Evan looked into the hood of the truck, her heard the garage door’s electric motor come on, and watched as the room was bathed in the glow of the automatic light that kicked on as the door rose. He peered around the hood of the truck to see Matt making his way into the garage. He watched as his friend dropped his bag next to the work bench, and then walked his way around the vehicle, running his hands along the lines of the body.

“You’re looking good, old girl.” Matt said aloud, taking the time to use the sleeve of his sweatshirt to buff one of the taillights. “You ready for your first performance?” Evan watched as Matt’s face again broke into his wide grin, and then saw his friend make his way back around the truck, grab his backpack, and head out of the garage door and over into the house. Evan watched him go, and then turned his attention back to the garage, noticing his blue-robed companion standing atop the work bench, casually leaning against the wall it sat against.

“Why are we here?” Evan asked of his companion in a somber tone. “It’s not like I ruined Matt’s day, too. His truck is fixed, and besides, I never even showed up. What does this matter to me?” As before, Dziga didn’t respond, but instead, waved his crooked stick out in front of him, spinning it in a clockwise circle. Evan watched as the hands of the clock on the wall began to spin faster and faster, and soon, nearly a half an hour had gone by, where for Evan, it had been only a minute or so. Then, Z stopped spinning his stick, and went back to casually leaning against the wall. Evan was about to question him, when he heard the sound of a door opening and closing, followed by the chatter of two voices.

In a moment, the figure of Matt and his father came around the side of the garage, and entered through the massive open door.

“So yeah, I guess he just caught up with his girl.” Evan heard his friend say, as Matt stepped toward the work bench, and reached for the key to the truck, hanging on the garage wall. “But that doesn’t matter, I’ll show him some other time! Come on pop, you’ll be so impressed, she purrs like a damn cougar!” Evan watched as Matt hoped into the driver’s side of the truck, closing the door so that his father could move past.

Matt’s father was a large man, with a bald head and a grey goatee and mustache, which he apparently only rarely trimmed. He had a large beer gut, which hung over the top of his old, ratty blue jeans, and was poorly contained by the dirty, stained wife beater he now wore. As the man came around the top of the truck, Evan saw he was holding an open can of beer in his hand, which he lazily slurped as he found a place at the back of the garage where he could lean against the wall.

“You ready, pop?” Matt called from the driver’s seat. Matt’s father gave what sounded like a disbelieving chuckle, and then lifted his beer in Matt’s direction. Evan took a step back from the truck, and watched as Matt inserted the key into the ignition, and gave it a twist. The engine of the truck roared to life in an instant, sounding like the triumphant thunder of an army returning home from a battle, victorious in their conquest. After the initial ignition, the engine sound leveled at a medium and contended hum, sounding not unlike the purr of a large cat.

Evan saw Matt’s eyes light up in joy, and looked back to see his friend’s father, a look of surprise and disbelief on his old and scruffy face. However, this look did not last. In a moment, the engine began to choke, and sputter, and, as quickly as it had come to life, its roar died out. Evan looked back at his friend to find a look of surprise, which was quickly replaced by one of panic. After 2 or three failed attempt to coax the engine back to life, Matt leapt from his place in the driver’s seat, and moved to the front of the truck, practically burying his head in the engine, like a frightened ostrich buries its head in the sand.

“It was fine this morning! It worked, I swear it did!” Matt protested, as if to convince the engine itself that it should still be purring like a cat. To no avail however, and as Matt frantically poured over the engine, trying to discover the source of the problem, Evan looked over to see he friends father, doubled over with howling laughter. After a moment, the gruff old man settled himself, and walked up behind his son. He put his large, dry-skinned hand onto matt’s shoulder, and spoke.

“You almost had me there, boy. Listen, I know you’ve put a lot of work into this old piece of junk, but I’m fer thinkin it’s time ya found yerself a new hobby. Maybe you take some time, go find yourself a woman to be concerned with, like yer buddy, there, and you won’t spend so much time worryin’ about this old heap.” Matt’s dad gave him a rough pat on the shoulder, then made his way out of the garage, chuckling to himself.

Matt and Evan both watched him go, and then Matt placed both his hands on the front end of the truck, and hung his head. Evan could hear his friend trying to choke back tears of frustration. Matt had spent his whole life trying to impress his father, and earn his respect. His dad had been in the war, and spent a lot of time when Evan and Matt were younger talking about the bright military career he expected of his son. When Matt had grown older, and had started to turn away from the idea of becoming military man, his father started to look down on him. For Matt, this truck was the only way he figured he’d ever get an ounce of respect out of the old man. Evan didn’t know how many times he’d heard his friend say, “If I can just get the old girl runnin’ again, then he’ll have to respect what I can do. He’ll lighten up on me, hell even enough that mom and I can convince that I should go to school to be a mechanic!”

Eventually, Matt stood up and away from the truck. He was still for a moment, arms at his sides, his hands curled into angry fists. Then, with a roar of anger and defiance, he gave the truck a swift kick in its front bumper. His face contorted for a moment, in regret, then disappointment, but finally landed on a look of shameful acceptance. He then shuffled his way around the side of the truck, and made his way out of the garage, not bother to close the door behind him. Evan heard his friend open the front door to his house, and close it behind him.

Evan turned back towards the truck, and looked into the engine. He wondered why the engine had started running so well, only to die a moment later. After a few seconds of examining, Evan noticed something amiss in the engine. One of the old trucks’ spark plugs had come lose. Evan remembered Matt had said something about how cars and trucks from that time all used the same standard spark plugs, but that their fittings could sometimes be slightly off. It was usually an easy fix, but it also didn’t happen very often. Matt had said that he had looked over the truck once, and didn’t think it was going to be problem. Apparently, in his panic, Matt hadn’t thought to look for it. But Evan had noticed it. In fact, if Evan had been there, in the moment, he might have noticed it then, too. It was the only thing he really knew about the truck, so he might well have thought to look at it, even though Matt did.

“Something wrong?” Again, Dziga’s voice cut through the quiet. This time, Evan had definitely forgotten that he was there. He looked up from the engine, and started at the inside of the hood of the truck, wish that, by some magic, there would be a guide for him to understand all the things that he had seen.

“Everything’s wrong. “ Evan said after a moment. “If I had been here, I could have helped Matt. I could have seen what he didn’t. Damnit Z, this truck is everything to him. And I was a jerk to Sarah, and A jerk to my Mom, and to Emma.“ His voice grew in volume and tension as he spoke. Suddenly, he felt himself lash out, swinging a fist at the hood of the truck. Instead of colliding, however, he watched as he hand passed on threw, and then as drew it back again, trying a second time. 

“Upset?” Asked Z, maintaining his usual tone, sounding just like Santa.

“ARGGH!” Evan screamed in frustration. How could that damned little imp be so calm? All Evan could think about was how much a jerk he was, how stupid and self-centered he’d been, how unwilling he was to slow down and see life, to realize his perspective wasn’t the only one. He felt his feet carry him out of the garage, and down his friend’s driveway, to the sidewalk, and to the middle of the street, where he dropped to his knees, and doubled over. He felt that feeling again, that knot in the pit of his stomach that reminded him of what an idiot he was, and, after letting out another scream of frustration, let himself start to cry. Bitter, regretful tears, that came from somewhere in Evan’s heart and mind that he had never accessed before. He felt alone, and stupid, like he was the worst person in the world. He heard his own voice in his head, wishing a car would come along and end his misery. As he blinked back the bitter tears, he turned his head to one side, and saw the front of an oncoming car approaching, headlights bathing him in a spotlight he never wished for. He closed his eyes again, and turned his head back, taking in what he expected to be his last breath, and holding it.

After holding his breath for nearly 10 seconds, he had to let it out, and, chocking on the sudden burst of air, opened his eyes, and looked for the car he had hoped would hit him. Instead of finding himself on the road, however, he found that his surroundings were devoid of color, or light. Everything was not but empty blackness, as far as he could see in every direction. He lifted his head, and sat back on his legs. As far as he could tell, he was nowhere. There was no Matt’s house, no road, no school, no Dziga, no nothing. Just… black. Evan tried his best to calm himself, and stood himself up, brushing off the front of his pants. He looked around again, and off in one direction, he though he saw a faint green glow. He made his was towards it, and in a moment, came across a familiar ball of green light. When he got close enough, he watched, as it formed itself into a frame, within which, he saw an image of his mother, sitting on the couch, as she had been before. This time, he could hear her voice, though. It sounded like she was talking to herself.

“I’m doing everything I can, you know. I’ve been doing my best. And your kids have grown into such beautiful children. Evan’s a senior now. He’ll be going off to college soon. I’m not sure where I’m gonna find the money, but we’ll make it work. I guess I could ask my parents for help, but you know how they are. They’ll be in town tomorrow. I’ve gotta get the house cleaned. I’d hate for them to think I didn’t have everything under control…” The image faded out, and the ball of light reformed into a ball.

As Evan looked away, he noticed another ball, a few steps away. He moved over to it, and as he approached, it opened. Within was an image of his sister, seated at their table, working on her book report. Evan could just see her beginning to write a sentence at the end of her paper “And so, Mr. Scrooge had learned his lesson.” Evan laughed to himself.

“Yeah, squirt, something like that.” Evan moved away from the image, and watched as the light reformed into a circle. As it did, Evan noticed that, behind it, there were a number of other little balls of green light, just floating there in the air. He looked over his shoulder, seeing a number more, and then looked back, to see more had joined the first. The longer Evan looked, the more balls of light there were, just floating and dashing about. As they flew near him, they turned into frames, showing Evan a myriad of images. There was one of a mother and father, holding their newborn baby. Another that danced by showed a middle aged woman, holding the hand of an old man hooked up to a number of medical machines. As the picture passed, Evan heard the sound of the EKG machine tone out a week heartbeat, and then, after a moment, signal that the heartbeat had stopped. There were children playing, and people dancing, people starving, and people fighting. He saw images of kids in school, of prisoners in their cell, or doctors and patients in a hospital, and of people in offices, going about their day.

“What is this place?” Evan wondered aloud.

“It’s not a where, really.” Evan heard Dziga say, and looked down at his side to see the little imp standing next to him, staring up at the green glowing balls. “It’s a what. It’s perspective. Everyone’s perspective.” Evan looked back up into the air, and saw that there were now hundreds of thousands, or even millions of little balls of light. He could see them above him and below him, and off in every direction. It was as though someone had colored every star in the night sky a pale green, and placed him and Dziga in the middle of it.

“Everything that could have been or might ever been seen is here.” Z continued. “When you go through life, you only see a tiny fraction of them, a minor collection of perspectives that you can call your own. But the truth of the world is so much larger than that. In every moment, there are a thousand smaller moments that you can pass over. For every second that passes for you, the same second must pass for 7 billion other people in their lives. And even then, think about all the places where people aren’t at any given time. What might you see if you could look there?”

“I’m so… small.” Said Evan. He heard his imp friend chuckle, before he replied.

“Well, yes and no. Your life is important, especially to you and those around you. It’s just that, so is everyone else’s. Your perspective is a valid one. But it’s not the only one.”

“So, what happens now?” Evan asked look down at his companion. The imp returned his gaze with those glowing yellow orbs of his, and replied.

“You go on. You take everything I showed you, everything I taught you, and you make something of it.”

“I like the sound of that,” said Evan, feeling suddenly very calm. “I want to do better than I did. I want to stop living like my way of seeing and doing things is the only one that matters. And, I want to show other people that, too.” Evan watched as Dziga waved his staff out in front of him, and waggled the end up and down a few times. As he did so, the little balls of light began to whiz off and by Evan, like a million green shooting stars. After a moment, Evan saw the movement of the light begin to slow, and saw that there was a single ball of light among the rest that seemed to be moving towards his face. As it approached, it opened up into the same green frame he had seen before. Within, he saw an image of himself, sleeping. The light streaming in between the layers of his blinds told him that it was morning, confirmed by the numbers on his alarm clock, which read 6:59. Then Evan watched, as Dziga lifted his staff into the air one final time.

“Sounds like a plan. Good luck!” said the imp, bringing the staff down in front of him, resulting in a flash of brilliant green light.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. SLAM! Evan grumbled to himself as he lifted his hand off the snooze button on his alarm clock, and rolled back into a more comfortable position. If he didn’t know any better, he might believe that 7:00AM was starting to come earlier and earlier every day. As he lay still, with his eyes closed, hoping that time might magically rewind a few hours, and grant him some more of his beloved sleep, he went over everything that he’d be doing that day.

The day was likely to be typical. In a moment, he’d… He’d roll over and… Evan’s eyes snapped open, and he rolled over to see the clock, now reading 7:02. He rubbed his sore eyes, and though hard to himself, thinking back on everything he had been through. “A dream?” he thought. But then, he noticed something out of place. Sat next to his alarm clock was a small, handheld digital camcorder. It was plain, and simple, not the most expensive model, but nice. He reached out, and grabbed the camcorder, bring it back to examine. He rolled it over in his hands a couple times, then popped of the lens cap, and looked through the view-finder. After another moment, he pulled the camera away from his face, and noticed the name of the model on the side of the camera. The Vertov companies’ “Perspective” model. He chuckled to himself, placed the lens cap back on, and made his way out of his bedroom and into the shower.

A few minutes later, Evan came down the stairs and into the kitchen, finding his sister making him a sandwich.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!” his mother greeted him, waving at him with a spatula, before using it to point out his plate of food on the counter. “I made you breakfast!”

“Thanks mom.” Evan said, grabbing the plate and the envelope that sat under it and bringing them over to the table. As he saw down, he saw his sister finishing making her sandwich, and starting on a second.

“2 sandwiches?” he heard his mother ask.

“Yeah, I thought Evan might like one!” said his sister, smiling across the table at Evan.

“Thanks squirt! Hey, do you still need help on your homework later?” Evan said as he started eating the bacon, eggs, and hash his mother had prepared.

“You remembered!” his sister squealed in excitement.

“How could I forget?” Evan laughed, taking another bite.

“Well, you’re in an awfully good mood this morning!” said his mother, as she cleaned up the breakfast dishes.

“Yeah, guess I just got a good night’s sleep.” Evan replied. The, he thought for a moment, and after taking another bite of his breakfast, spoke again. “You know, Mom. I think I want to be a filmmaker.”