From the Teeth of Angels Read online

  “The traits we love best in others are the things that make us forget you: they make us laugh, they make love to us, they bear our children, they make us feel important and immortal. That’s all eternity is—the moments when we’re alone with our joy in life and you’re forgotten.

  “But we always exist for you. We’re the only things that exist for you, and you hate us for it. You hate us more because we can make you go away with things as small as a silver windmill or a perfect memory, a really good hump or a meal under a tree on a checkered tablecloth. You win, yes, but we’re always on your mind. You’re not always on ours. Even when you’re only this far away, we can still play with light and forget, and you hate that.”

  One breath. For one breath I saw in his eyes that it was the truth.

  “Fuck you, movie star.” He scraped his chair back, stood up, and left.

  I put my hands on my cheeks. Hot cheeks, cold hands. I looked at the table and saw the fork. I wanted to touch it but didn’t dare.

  “Do you think that’s true, Arlen? It’s as simple as that?”

  I looked at Wyatt. His face was full of hope.

  “Yes, I think so. That’s not to say He won’t always try to make it harder. But we got Him this time, didn’t we?”

  Both of us burst out laughing.

  “What happens now?”

  I kept laughing. “I don’t know. We keep asking each other that question. I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know, Wyatt. We go on trying to forget him and get lost in our lives. Or what’s left of them.”

  He straightened up. “I want to go home now. I want to talk to Jesse and Sophie about this and then I want to go home.”

  “May I come with you?”

  “To Los Angeles? You want to come with me?”

  “I’ll cook you soups and hold your hand. And I want to see Rose. Maybe that’s what I’ve been meant to do all along—take care of the people I love.”

  He reached across that scarred, tired table and took my hand. His was so warm and mine was so cold. We could help each other now and perhaps, when we were very lucky, forget him for a while.

  “I’ll cook you soups and hold your hand.”

  “Amen.”

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  Document version: 1

  Document creation date: 2005-10-21

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