Adelaide Literary Magazine No.29, October 2019

INDEPENDENT REVISTA
MONTHLY LITERÁRIA
LITERARY INDEPENDENTE
MAGAZINE
MENSAL

ADELAIDE FOUNDERS / FUNDADORES
Stevan V. Nikolic & Adelaide Franco Nikolic
Independent Monthly Literary Magazine
Revista Literária Independente Mensal EDITOR IN CHIEF / EDITOR-CHEFE
Year IV, Number 29, October 2019 Stevan V. Nikolic
Ano IV, Número 29, Outobro 2019
[email protected]
ISBN: 978-1-951214-77-7
MANAGING DIRECTOR / DIRECTORA EXECUTIVA
Adelaide Literary Magazine is an independent inter- Adelaide Franco Nikolic
na onal monthly publica on, based in New York and
Lisbon. Founded by Stevan V. Nikolic and Adelaide Franco GRAPHIC & WEB DESIGN
Nikolic in 2015, the magazine’s aim is to publish quality Adelaide Books LLC, New York
poetry, fic on, nonfic on, artwork, and photography, as
well as interviews, ar cles, and book reviews, wri en in CONTRIBUTING AUTHORS IN THIS ISSUE
English and Portuguese. We seek to publish outstanding
literary fic on, nonfic- on, and poetry, and to promote John McLennon, John Abraham,
the writers we publish, helping both new, emerging, and Claudia Geagan, Chase Dearinger,
established authors reach a wider literary audience. Benjamin Rees, Joe Miller, Mark Massaro,
Nofel Nawras, Dell R. Lipscomb,
A Revista Literária Adelaide é uma publicação men- Adrianna Zapata, Ruth Deming,
sal internacional e independente, localizada em Nova Joshua Eric Swedlow, Alex G. Dumas,
Iorque e Lisboa. Fundada por Stevan V. Nikolic e Ade- Mizuno Senko, 水野仙子, Mariel Yovino,
laide Franco Nikolic em 2015, o objec vo da revista é Monica Strina, Sandra Gould Ford,
publicar poesia, ficção, não-ficção, arte e fotografia de Jared Alexander, Mark Hurtubise,
qualidade assim como entrevistas, ar gos e crí cas
literárias, escritas em inglês e por-tuguês. Pretendemos Jose Recio, Donald Zagardo,
publicar ficção, não-ficção e poesia excepcionais assim Isabel Armiento, Rachel Cavell,
como promover os escritores que publicamos, ajudan-
do os autores novos e emergentes a a ngir uma audiên- Deborah Paes De Barros,
cia literária mais vasta. Kimberly McElreath, Michela Valmori,
Marlena Baraf, Roger Topp, Kimm Stammen,
(h p://adelaidemagazine.org) John Casey, Lefcothea-Maria Golgaki,

Published by: Adelaide Books, New York David Williamson, Sally Sandler,
244 Fi h Avenue, Suite D27 Stuart Rawlinson, Hank Kalet,
New York NY, 10001 George Gad Economou, Edward Bonner,
e-mail: [email protected] Antonio Rios, David Somerset,
phone: (917) 477 8984 Christopher Barnes, Andy J Hale,
h p://adelaidebooks.org John Leonard, Chani Zwibel,
Robert Travis Hicks, Angela Shepherd,
Copyright © 2019 by Adelaide Literary Magazine Rodney A. Williams, Reed Venrick

All rights reserved. No part of this publica on may be
reproduced in any manner whatsoever without wri en
permission from the Adelaide Literary Maga-zine
Editor-in-chief, except in the case of brief quo-ta ons
embodied in cri cal ar cles and reviews.

CONTENTS / CONTEÚDOS

EDITOR’S NOTES NONFICTION
AMO’S GORGE: A STORY ABOUT THE LAST FROM THERE TO HERE 
UNICORN By Stevan V. Nikolic 5 by Donald Zagardo 136
OTHERNESS by Isabel Armiento 138
FICTION SWALLOWING by Rachel Cavell 140
WHAT ARE YOU SAVING IT FOR  IN THE DAYS WHEN THE SKY WAS
by John McLennon 10 COBALT by Deborah Paes De Barros 145
LIVE A MILE by John Abraham 14 BYE by Kimberly McElreath 154
NOTE TO THE CHILDREN  NUOVO MONDO by Michela Valmori 156
by Claudia Geagan 19 PENNY IN APRIL by Marlena Baraf 160
WHERE THIEVES BREAK IN AND STEAL  REAL IS THE RARER THING 
by Chase Dearinger 22 by Roger Topp 162
PORTO by Benjamin Rees 31 NELS NORMANN’S LAST PROBLEM 
ZAMBONI PUDDLE by Joe Miller 40 by Kimm Stammen 170
DOWNTOWN WALDOS by Mark Massaro 48
FIRE OF THE GODS by Nofel Nawras 57 POETRY
MELANCHOLY by Dell R. Lipscomb 63 FOUR POEMS by John Casey 176
LUZCINDA by Adrianna Zapata 70 16 OF ME by Lefcothea-Maria Golgaki 178
AMSTERDAM by Ruth Deming 77 CAPTIVE by David Williamson 191
STALKING CHORE by Joshua Eric Swedlow 80 WILLOW AND BARK by Sally Sandler 195
WHIRLWIND by Alex G. Dumas 83 SUNDAY AFTERNOON 
DIGNITY OF A DOG by Mizuno Senko 93 by Stuart Rawlinson 198
犬の威嚴 水野仙子 95 SCAVENGERS by Hank Kalet 201
HERO KARMA by Mariel Yovino 98 ROUGH RIDE by George Gad Economou 204
DAMAGE by Monica Strina 103 ONE SINGLE ROSE by Edward Bonner 208
WOLF BENEATH THE WAVES  FOCUS by Antonio Rios 213
by Sandra Gould Ford 110 THE TROP by David Somerset 215
THE SPECTRUM OF GREATNESS  PUTTING YOU THROUGH NOW 
by Jared Alexander 116 by Christopher Barnes 219
COMPANION by Mark Hurtubise 125 THE METAPHOR by Andy J Hale 222
LUCAS PARRA by Jose Recio 126 MORNING SONG by John Leonard 226

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EMPRESS by Chani Zwibel 229
MULTIPURPOSE by Robert Travis Hicks 232
RETURN by Angela Shepherd 233
DOGS OF AUSTRALIA 
by Rodney A. Williams 241
REMEMBERING CAMUS by Reed Venrick 243

4

AMO’S GORGE: A STORY
ABOUT THE LAST UNICORN

The unicorn is a legendary animal that has This is how the story goes. Some three
been described since an quity as a horse- hundred years ago, there were two last
like animal with a large, pointed, spiraling unicorns le in the world. Male called Amo
horn s cking out from its forehead. It was and female called Ama. They re- ally didn’t
usually described as a very wild forest crea- know each other because they inhabited
ture, a symbol of purity, grace, and indepen- different lands, but they felt each other’s
dence, which could only be captured by a existence. O en, they would dream of each
virgin. It was believed in the old mes that other and felt some strange longing, like
its horn had the power to turn poisoned they belonged together. But life was going
water drinkable and to heal sickness. Ac- on and they lived their lives separately nev-
cording to the legend, there were many uni- er expec ng that they would ever meet.
corns in- habi ng the earth centuries ago,
but slowly, under the advance and pressure Ama was a young unicorn, happy with
of the human civiliza on, they disappeared. her being, proud of her independence and
freedom. She o en looked at other ani-
In the mountains of Southern Portu- mals wondering why they allowed humans
gal, some- where in the region of Alente- to tame them and use them. She couldn’t
jo, there is a ravine called “Amo’s gorge.” I under- stand them. She enjoyed every bit
was there some me ago and heard from of nature that sur- rounded her. She loved
the locals the story about the last unicorn wildflowers, cold streams, deep and mys-
called Amo. According to the story, there terious woods, sounds of wind in the trees,
were really two unicorns. Male Amo and fe- and the music of birds. She could only feel
male Ama, but nobody could tell me what complete feeling the land, roaming over
happened to Ama. Some believe that she mountains and through valleys. She felt the
is s ll somewhere around running through wholeness of crea on. She knew that she
forests and over the meadows. At least, was one of the most majes c living crea-
that is what the legend says. tures s ll around and she was proud of it.

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Once in a while, humans would see her behind him. He would knock down barns,
running over lands and they admired her break fences, run over crops he was work-
beauty and grace. Of course, they wanted ing on, pull out vines, al- ways wan ng
to catch her and tame her, but she would to show to humans that he can’t be used,
never allow that. She enjoyed their admira- wan ng them to pay for the belief that he
could be tamed. Then he would run free
on and liked to play with them. She really over lands un l the next me he would al-
enjoyed the a en on they were giving her. low humans to catch him.
So, some mes, Ama would even let some
humans come close and touch her, manip- Over me the word spread around
ula ng their senses, just so they could feel among humans of Amo and many very an-
that she was real and not a dream. Then gry humans were trying to catch him and
she would run away, leaving them won- punish him for the damage he was always
dering what happened, and o en, leaving leaving behind him. Some were even claim-
them sad for the missed opportunity to ing that he was not a real unicorn, but just a
catch such a precious animal. wild horse who de- served to be put down.
For them, unicorns were gracious beings,
She wasn’t sure what she felt about peo- who would never acted like him. Amo didn’t
ple, but she was sure that she never wanted care about their opinion. He knew who he
to give up her freedom and the wholeness was and con nued running through life the
and happiness that she felt running aimless- same way.
ly through the wilderness. It was who she
was, and she didn’t want to change, not for A er many years, he got red of the
any- thing in the world. game he played and decided to se le some-
where where nobody knew him, in differ-
On the other side, in a completely other ent part of the world, so he could avoid hu-
part of the world, lived Amo. He was a dif- mans forever. He came to the mountains of
ferent story. Like Ama, being a unicorn, he Alentejo, not knowing that he moved to the
loved all the same things and was proud of lands that Ama was inhabi ng.
his independence and freedom.
One morning, he was standing on a high
He was quite older than Ama, but s ll a ridge, enjoying the warmth of the early
very strong male unicorn. But being male, morning sun, when suddenly in the dis-
he always had a need to prove his strength tance he saw Ama running over the fields.
and superiority over other animals. He al- He couldn’t believe his eyes. She was the
ways needed a recogni on for who he was. most beau ful creature he ever saw. She
Especially from humans. was the one from his dreams. His heart
started pounding fast. She saw him too.
Occasionally, he would allow them to Ama was equally excited, but cau ous. On
catch him and make them believe that one side, she was happy to see another
they tamed him. For a while he would work unicorn. He was a bit old, but s ll appeared
on their fields, pull their carriages, run in strong and handsome. She was asking her-
the horse races, and do everything they self if it were possible that he was the one
asked from him, just to show his superior- whose existence she sensed all her life. She
ity and strength and to enjoy admira on wasn’t sure if she should come closer. She
by humans. But then, he would get bored was always afraid of being disappointed.
by it and run away always leaving damage

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Amo ran to her direc on. He was run- greatness of her pure love, the experiences
ning fast, trying to impress her and show of nature. She wanted to be enriched by the
his strength. For a while, they were running presence of the same soul, not restricted or
parallel, but in the distance examining each slowed down by it. She wanted to share the
other. By each mile, Amo was coming closer affec on for the things they both cherished.
and closer. Ama was s ll afraid, but she was
allowing him to shorten their distance. In Well, Amo knew what Ama wanted. He
the evening they came to the same mead- wanted the same thing, but the me he
ow. They were drinking water from the spent around humans changed him a li le.
same spring carefully observing each other. On one hand, he wanted to run with Ama
to the end of me and enjoy their together-
Finally, Amo came to Ama. She wasn’t ness in the freedom of open fields, forests
moving. She just looked at him. They could and mountains. On the other hand, he also
hear each other’s heart. He touched her. wanted to have a place that would be their
They laid next to each other with their bod- home. Somewhere, where they could se le
ies touching. It was a glorious feeling for and feel the warmth of their together- ness.
both of them. A sense of comple on. Of
dreams come true. The home that he was thinking about
was a human category. For unicorns, home
In the morning, they woke up and con- was the whole of universe. Space without
nued running and walking through the boundaries. That was what Ama called
woods enjoying the surroundings and home. Anyway, Amo was persistent. He
more than anything, enjoying each other. took her to the ridge he discovered. He
Ama was happy. At last, a real unicorn was wanted to make a garden for her, full of dif-
next to her, somebody that could under- ferent fruits and plants. She looked at him
stand her. Somebody that would not try to thinking that he was playing a childish game.
tame her. Somebody to share in the joy of Why would unicorns ever want a small gar-
freedom and of crea on without limits and den to work in when the world was a huge
without condi ons. Somebody of the same garden ready to be explored. Nevertheless,
kind. She couldn’t believe that it would for a while, she enjoyed in planning, even
ever have happened, but it seemed that it helping him make the garden.
was right here, in front of her eyes. She s ll
had her doubts, being all her life by herself, Yes, she was thinking, maybe occasion-
the only unicorn. But he was here, strong ally, they could stop there and rest, but for
and true. her se ling somewhere was an impossi-
ble thing, something that she thought she
Amo was also happy. He promised never would never enjoy. Amo failed to realize
to leave her side. He thought that he would that she wanted an equally independent
always be there for her, but Ama didn’t and free unicorn. Somebody that she can
want him to be there for her, but with her. admire for his freedom. She wanted to give
She never felt that she needed any protec- him her love, but she didn’t want to sacri-
fice her liberty. It was not the nature of uni-
on or help. She was strong enough and corns. She would be unhappy forever and
wise enough to care for herself. She want- she didn’t want him to sacrifice anything
ed to be with Amo as two equal indepen- for their love and togetherness either.
dent beings, respec ng and enjoying each
other’s freedom. She wanted to share the

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Amo was of a different mind. He thought take. And she le . She was disappointed
if he se led down, and built a home, that and hurt, but she knew that nothing would
she would join him. Too many years spent lower her spirits once she was back running
with the humans had blurred his mind. He over open fields and through deep woods.
was thinking like the humans. So, he sacri- It was the open air of the high mountains
ficed his freedom and se led on the ridge. that made her feel alive. For her, it was bet-
He wanted to show Ama that he would sac- ter if Amo remained as he was, just in her
rifice anything for her love, even the free- dreams.
dom of a unicorn. He was wai ng for her
pa ently. Amo stayed on the ridge feeling sorry
for himself and for the lost love of Ama. He
Ama would come once in a while and couldn’t believe that she really le him. He
spend me with Amo. She truly loved him neglected his garden and soon he had no
and she hoped that he would realize his food le . He didn’t eat for days. He didn’t
true nature and con nue to run around want to eat. He didn’t want to live. He
with her as unicorns should, and forget didn’t care about anything anymore. All
those ideas of home. he was thinking was how he needed Ama.
Finally, he realized what a big mistake he
But Amo was persistent and kept re- made. All she wanted from him was to be
maining on the ridge. She was ge ng less who he was, a true unicorn. He was angry
and less excited to go there. It was just a with himself for ac ng like a human. How
ridge, one of many in the mountains of could he be so stupid?
Alentejo. She was losing her pa ence with
Amo. She couldn’t understand how a true As he was laying for days on the ridge,
unicorn could act like a human. A true uni- humans from the valley who were trying
corn would never sacrifice his freedom, not to find him and punish him, no ced him
even for love. Freedom is a part of true love. there. They started advancing up the hill,
For unicorns, love was an uncondi onal cat- ge ng more and more eager to make him
egory. She saw his sacrifice as a weakness, pay for his bad deeds. He looked at them
something that made him lose her respect approaching. He wasn’t sure if he wanted
and not gain her love. She heard some of to run or stay there and wait for his des -
the stories that humans were spreading ny, but something inside him told him that
around about Amo, and some mes, she he should jump and run. That he should
was asking herself, ‘What kind of unicorn try to be a true unicorn. Maybe one day, it
would ever act like that?’ Maybe he is real- didn’t ma er when, Ama would meet him
ly some wild horse pretending to be a uni- again. He will show her that he is the one: a
corn. Is it possible that she made a mistake true unicorn. He was the unicorn from her
about him? One day, she couldn’t look at dreams.
him like that anymore. He didn’t appear as
the unicorn from her dreams. She almost He stood up slowly. He couldn’t go down
felt sorry for him. That was not Amo that the hill. Humans were closing in on his es-
she first met, the fast and strong unicorn cape route. The only way was to jump from
running with her shoulder to shoulder. She the ridge to another ridge over the deep
told him she would not come back anymore ravine. He looked at the distance. He used
to the ridge and that everything was a mis- to jump further than that before. He would
make it, he thought. Then he jumped. But

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his muscles were weak and his body wasn’t of extremely pure and fresh water. Local
what it used to be. Days spent laying down people were talking about the magical
without food and water took their toll on proper es of the water that was healing
him. He didn’t make it to the next ridge. He many illnesses. Some local people remem-
fell into a deep ravine and died there. bered that a unicorn fell and died there and
connected those two things, so they named
Humans came to the edge of the ridge the spring, “ Amo’s Spring” and they named
looking down at his mo onless and bloody the gorge, “Amo’s Gorge.” Some say, it was
body. One of them said, “Well, they were just as he would want it. He always craved
right. A er all, he was not a unicorn, just a human recogni on. Now, he finally had it
wild horse who met his deserved des ny. A forever. Occasionally, people swore that
real unicorn would jump this distance.” they saw Ama coming down to the gorge to
drink water from Amo’s spring. But those
Years later, at the place he fell, a spring were only stories. People like fairytales.
broke out from the rock with an abundance

9

WHAT ARE YOU

SAVING IT FOR

by John McLennon

Monika entered Carnal Love, one of Berlin’s then turned to the boy and said, “Are you
basement nightclubs. The men all wore uni- a virgin?”
forms of the lowest rank, common soldaten
on leave, fresh out of training before the “No! No, I’m not.”
Reich shoved them into Russia’s frigid meat
grinder. Scanning the crowd, she se led on Monika uncrossed her legs and whis-
one whose face s ll expressed the confi- pered into his ear, “I’m a virgin too.”
dence of youth, his courage yet unchewed
by the horrors of war. “What?”

As she stood just inside the door, he had Monika smiled. He was in enemy terri-
already locked his eyes on her. He sat on a tory and didn’t know the terrain.
stool at the bar, his face flushed from the
bo le of vodka in his hand. “We could do this together,” she said.

She walked through the crowd with hips “Do you want to dance?” he said.
swaying, directly to him while the band
played oom-pah. The Nazis had outlawed “No, get away from me.”
Jazz.
He stepped back; his mouth opened.
He took a quick swig from the bo le and
slid off the stool. “I mean, come here,” she grabbed his tu-
nic and pulled him closer. “Wait, that’s too
She placed her hand on his chest, bit close. I need room to breathe.”
her lower lip and lted her head to the side.
Looking up at him, she said, “Was geht.” She pushed a lock of hair out of her
eyes and smiled so innocently it would
“Hey, you’re really adorable,” he said. His have melted the most seasoned man of
eyes flashed between her smile and cleavage. the world. The bartender delivered her
Schnapps. Monika dipped her finger into
Monika climbed onto his barstool and the syrupy liquid then sucked it off while
crossed her legs. She ordered a schnapps looking the boy in the eyes. She scratched
her head and said, “What are you saving it
for?”

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He looked around the club as though The boy took a slug from his bo le,
searching for reinforcements then back at “Yeah,” he said.
Monika, “Do you want to go to a hotel?”
“I know I’m a bad girl, just an old alley
Monika adopted an oppressed expres- cat.” She squinched her nose and scratched
sion and exhaled in frustra on, “Oh, I don’t it with her finger.
know. I can’t do this. I’m not feeling so well
tonight.” “No, you’re not,” he said. “You’re an an-
gel, the nicest girl I’ve ever met. You’re the
The boy put his hand on her arm, “No, most beau ful girl in the world.”
everything will be fine, really.”
“I like to look pre y all the me but,” she
“Don’t touch me,” she said, pushing his pouted, “I don’t feel pre y tonight. My
hand away. You think I’m a dog you can hair’s a mess. Why don’t you come closer?
pet?” Why are you so standoffish?”

The boy stepped back. He moved closer. “I think your hair is
beau ful,” he said.
“Oh, don’t go away. Was it something
I said? God, you’re so moody.” Monika Monika smiled at his comment then
climbed off her stool and moved closer to stretched her arms over her head and
him. “Kiss me,” she said. yawned, causing her breasts to rise inches
from the boy’s nose. His eyes widened.
“What?”
In a voice nkling as so ly as crystal, she
“Kiss me.” said, “Do you like my blouse? It’s silk and
wonderfully so . Here feel it?”
He did.
Monika took the boy’s hand and kissed
Monika put her arms around him and his palm. It smelled of carbolic soap. She
pressed her body into him. pressed his hand against her breast. He
closed his fingers.
“That was nice,” she said, and gently
pushed him back. “I haven’t been ge ng “Ok, that’s enough,” she said. Monika
enough sleep.” She clasped her hands as pushed his hand away.
though in prayer and placed them beside her
cheek, to signify sleep. “It’s the bombing.” She whispered in his ear, “I have a new
bra. It’s so pre y; it’s a crime to keep it hid-
“Yeah, I know what it’s like,” he said. den. Would you like to see it?”

Monika affected a look of aggrava on, His eyes widened while he fingered the
“Are you talking to my breasts?” idea, and took another swig from the bot-
tle, “Ah, yeah.”
The boy blushed, “I’m sorry. Really I’m
sorry.” He looked into her eyes and blinked Monika looked around to see if anyone
several mes. was watching. She unbu oned the top two
bu ons of her blouse. She pressed her lips
She bit her lower lip and raised her eyes together in a coy smile and studied his face
to the ceiling as though in deep thought. to see his reac on. His hand moved up to
She turned to show the boy her backside. touch her. She slapped it away.

“Do you like my ass?” she said, wiggling
her bo om.

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

“Don’t touch me. What are you staring “Is that true, that you love me?” she said,
at?” she said teasingly. “Are you happy now?” pressing herself into his arms. She looked
She winked at him and bu oned her blouse. up into his face. “You wouldn’t lie to me?”

“You’re beau ful,” he said. “No, it’s true. I love you. I love you.” He
kissed her on the lips. “Can I see your breasts
“Aw, thank you,” she smiled. again?”

“You’re the most beau ful girl I’ve ever “You keep asking that, and I can’t do it.”
seen. I’m in love with you. I could promise
you the world.” She took his hand and tried to pull him
away from the bar. He resisted long enough
“You could promise, but could you deliver?” to grab his bo le. She dragged the hulking
boy forward, like a miner pulling a mule up
He smiled and asked to see her bra again. a hill.
Monika covered her mouth with her hand
and laughed. She pointed her finger at him, At the ladies’ water closet, Monika
“You’re a bad boy.” threw the door open and a empted to pull
him in, but the boy’s hand slipped out of
She put her forefinger on her mouth as if hers like an escaping fish.
in medita on, and said, “Hmm, perhaps you
could move in with me, I have an apartment.” He stopped at the threshold as though
peering off the edge of the Earth. Monika
The boy’s face brightened, “Wow! that went back for him, laughing at his modesty.
would be great!” Then he turned glum, She grabbed his tunic and yanked him into the
“but I’m shipping out tomorrow.” bathroom, slamming the door behind them.

“Oh well, it was only an idea.” Monika Monika threw her arms around the boy
fussed with her hair. “You probably have and kissed him on the lips. He pushed her
smelly feet anyway.” back and took a swig from his bo le. She
took the bo le away from him and placed it
“No, my feet don’t smell!” on the floor. She pulled him towards her for
another kiss, this me jamming her tongue
“I was only joking,” she said, pu ng her down his throat while walking him back-
hand on his chest. ward un l he struck the wall.

“Maybe when I come back from the war.” Unable to breathe, he put his hand
on her so front and pushed her back.
“I don’t think so. By that me, I’ll have Again, she walked him against the wall and
another man.” pressed her thighs into him.

The boy grimaced. “Listen, I’ll remember She was all mouth, like a nest of baby
you forever. I’ll write you a le er every day. birds. Holding her lip-lock, she reached
If you wait for me, I’ll love you more than down with one hand to unbu on his fly.
heaven and earth.”
He swa ed her hand away. Struggling
“I don’t think so. I can’t wait that long. for breath, he broke free of the kiss. She
It’s nothing personal. You understand, don’t grabbed him around the waist with one
you?” arm and again a empted to unbu on his
trousers. The boy pushed her back, shout-
The boy looked like he was about to cry. ing, “Se le down, se le down!”
“But I love you.”

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“What’s wrong?” she said before a empt- He made a grun ng noise and fell to the
ing to resume the kiss. She laughed, nervous- floor.
ly then clamped her teeth on his lower lip.
She stepped around him, searching for
He put his hand on her forehead and vulnerabili es. He lay on the floor cough-
pushed, breaking her hold. ing and blubbering with his knees pulled up
into the fetal posi on. She kicked him with
“Don’t you want to play? she said. the pointed toe of her shoe. He shrieked.
When he reached down to cover his back-
He shouted, “Se le down!” side, she kicked him in the face, striking his
eye. He screamed and then cried like a child.
Monika shoved him violently with both
hands. He hit the wall and banged his head. Monika looked down at him with con-
He put his hand to his injury and tried to tempt. She li ed his vodka off the floor, took
say something. She slapped him across a swig, then smashed the bo le against the
the face, cu ng his cheek with her ring. wall. She stomped out of the lady’s room,
He looked at the blood in his hand. She slamming the door behind her.
smacked him again. The crack of the slap
echoed off the porcelain walls. He cried out She returned. Taking a lips ck from her
and put his hand to his violated cheek. purse, she scribbled in large le ers on the
mirror, “Fuck You.” She stepped back to ad-
Monika grabbed his ears and pulled him mire her work, then signed “Monika.”
into another kiss. The boy resisted. She
kicked him in the shin, then grabbed him by “Yeah, that’s it,” she said.
the shoulders and kneed him in the groin.

About the Author:

John McLennon spent most of his life in the U.S. Army. A er re ring, he earned a BA in
Literature from the University of Texas at San Antonio and taught English to high school
students. His work has been published in The Brisilia Review, Calliope, Ariel Chart, and other
literary journals.

13

LIVE A MILE

by John Abraham

“Thank you both for coming today. It was the box they were si ng upon; then the
brave deciding to take up with the machine ngling sensa on began to afflict the skin
rather than being forced. Mr. Johnson, Mr.
Hampton, please remove your glasses, and surrounding their brain cavi es.
all other personal effects. Take a good look
at each other. Mentally prepare for what is Johnson felt air puff up like it was rush-
about to happen. Then each of you will get ing past him. Then it seemed as if his brain
behind the glass on either side, and sit on was li ing out of the top of his body. He
the box. You’ll feel a slight ngle in the air struggled not to reach up and pull it back
around you, and a feeling as if your head down. Hampton felt a similar sensa on,
weighs nothing. Ignore it. And do not touch but couldn’t control himself.
your head; I assure you it will remain there
for the dura on. What’s inside is all that “I instructed you not to do that,” the CAO
changes. You’ve both briefed your families berated through a sta c microphone. His
about what do do?” hand ducked back to his side. A er a few
minutes, the process was finished.
The men nodded. “Good.”
“You won’t get the delayed side effects
Mr. Johnson and Mr. Hampton had been un l you fall into deep REM sleep tonight.
clashing at work over the past year. It be- Any ques ons, you can refer to the manuals
gan as a chain of emails over a divergence my program has provided. And don’t forget,
in pricing details, escalated into accusa- this is supposed to be a learning experience.”

ons of working poaching, and last Friday Johnson woke up the next morning
Mr. Johnson reached out a meaty paw and as Hampton. So , silk pajamas bunched
struck Mr. Hampton in the le corner of his around his knees as he stepped out of
jaw, all due to an intense argument over the bed. He met Hampton’s wife at the top
“countdown” clock. The Conflict Awareness of the stairs. Same woman he’d stared at
Officer (CAO) glanced a mechanical eye from across the so ball field at the compa-
over their case files as it removed the items: ny-wide picnic. Wide ruby lips sat beneath
pocket watch for Johnson, two different eyes that narrowed upward as she adjusted
communica on devices for Hampton. Then to the sight of her not-husband. She wore a
they went inside. The officer flipped the pair of silk pajamas like he did.
switch and turned two dials clockwise. Both
men felt a slight warmness pulsing through “Breakfast is on the table from the drone,”
she intoned, glancing away from his stare.
Her real husband never looked at her for

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Revista Literária Adelaide

longer than a few seconds at a me. John- cleaned up this me, though, let me tell
son realized he was embarrassed and took you. Just got out of rehab, and I’m ready
off down the stairwell. for a new life. Got a job at the tool factory a
few blocks away.”
Hampton woke up in Johnson’s dingy
one-bedroom apartment. A police siren “So tell me, why should this me be any
across the way had pierced his slumber, different?” Hampton, as Johnson, asked.
interrup ng an amazing dream. The emp-
The brother became confused. Such
ness of the space scared him. A single a response never would come from his
worn out easy chair resided in the corner brother’s lips. Would it?
in front of a screen. The rest of the space
was carpeted and filled with boxes of junk: “It just is going to be, all right? Now I got-
old devices, reams of paper. He called for ta to get ready for work, and so do you. I
anyone, and a young man appeared. It got your lunch packed already.”
was Johnson’s brother. Three-day stubble
poked from his chin, and a wild expression It was an hour long bus ride to the of-
darted around his eyes. fice complex. Hampton had never seen so
many des tute workers in all his life. Since
Johnson, staring at Hampton’s home, the AI revolu on, humans were considered
had never seen such opulence. Crystal redundant and were forced to subsist on a
chandeliers, medieval tapestries, a long series of “gig” jobs, many of which lasted a
polished dining table. A Talk Box in every few hours at a me. The new precariat had
room! He’d only ever seen those in the to shell out five bucks just for a few hours
Mass Spectrum room at the office complex, of public transit.
when the bots let them speak to one an-
other. Hampton’s gorgeous wife was cor- Johnson’s work desk below the tow-
rect, there was a large plate of breakfast on er was appalling. Ten mes worse than his
the table. Eggs, sausage, waffles, stuff he apartment. Hampton wondered how the
would never bother to cook for himself. He hell the guy func oned. Stolen staplers,
downed the plate in minutes, then went out binders, workbooks, all manner of tape dis-
to the backyard. Acres of trees, a few dogs penser li ered the scratched top. Hampton
running through them. the wind grasped made a note of each one, and its itemiza on.
the tree branches as if to dance with them.
There were workers out there, too. Damn His job was menial. No wonder he hated
La nos by the skin color. Something jolted the illegals the scare-mongering websites
in his brain, and he thought he heard far on his browser history said were coming for
away, a ny voice declare: No, they are just his jobs. It was hard to give a crap when your
workers. Human beings. You’re assuming. sole func on in a bureaucracy was pushing
The point of this exercise is to see, to learn. paper. Paper doesn’t even ma er anymore.
Hasn’t anyone told you down here?
Back in Johnson’s apartment, Hampton
ques oned the brother over a bowl of ce- As Hampton, Johnson drove the BMW
real and almost no milk. conver ble to work. Hampton didn’t like
taking it to work, but Johnson was in his
“Tom’s the name. I been in and ou a jail body, so he took it. The wind pushed his
for years, various drug offenses. Got my act lips back as he flew. He had to raise the top
through the pollu on zone on the far side

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

of the office complex where the tower lay, fare now that space shu le food was en
but it was worth it. He found Hampton’s vogue. The poor have come to love it, or at
parking spot at the front. No mile-long walk least he read they did. It tasted like card-
into work a er the bus for him today. board being heated up in a micro. There
was a note pinned inside that read: “To-
Johnson couldn’t believe how easy the day’s the day.”
job was. Hampton acted like some sort of
big shot up in the tower, but all he did was They each toiled away at their pointless
synthesize informa on for AI programs to jobs for the rest of the a ernoon. The en-
disseminate. The program es mated full
reliance on AI in approximately two years. re office was set to become automated in
Then he’ll be out on his ass, Johnson real- less than three years. The Countdown hung
ized. Maybe that’s why he’s become such over every main workspace, never allow-
an up ght asshole. I can s ll pretend that ing a human to forget it. Two years, seven
paper ma ers and that we need it on a months, thirteen days un l you’re obsolete.
base level to func on. When somebody Hampton no ced there was a large digital
like Hampton gets canned, what’s he going read out of The Countdown in the base-
to make of it? Maybe I should be more fo- ment below the tower. No one was safe.
cused on this problem than the problem of Last week in his own body, he had punched
the illegals. I mean humans. Johnson in the face over this number, and
what it meant.
Hampton, as Johnson, wanted to tell
the Paper Acquisi on Officer that his en re Johnson took a li le nap in a side com-
job was meaningless, that upstairs the al- partment of Hampton’s spacious office. No
gorithms could move ten thousand reams drones came to wake him, and he opened
before he could push one piece. But where his eyes refreshed with an hour le of the
did that leave him? He really meant: where workday. He decided to pay a visit to his an-
did that leave Johnson? Inside, he knew his tagonist. He instructed one of the drones to
lead him downstairs.
me was coming close as well. So he kept
his mouth shut, and fulfilled orders. Even It was surreal. He saw his body, mov-
though he knew it was pointless. ing his arms, doing his job badly. The job
was to push paper. An obsolete enterprise.
Lunch was a new experience. Johnson He glanced down quickly at the body in
brown-bagged it every day of his life. As which he resided, making sure it was s ll
Hampton, he watched in amazement as a enveloped in the stunning three-piece suit
plate of fries flew in on a Mini Air, and a Hampton’s cloth-sor ng bot had selected
bubbling cauldron of soup rolled in of its this morning.
own accord. All he had to do was speak
aloud the kind of refreshment he desired, “How do you keep up with all of this?”
and a drone brought it to him. All this, to Hampton, as Johnson, asked.
program data. And I’m treated like a king.
King of the office. “I usually don’t,” Johnson said, as Hamp-
ton. “How do you work knowing your job
Hampton tore into the paper bag John- isn’t going to exist much longer?”
son’s brother Tom had packed. Small sand-
wich, freeze-dried vegetables, the usual “I try not to think about it,” Hampton
said to his own, uncaring eyes. He looked

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Revista Literária Adelaide

like a giant prick in that suit. A rich, uncar- “I see here the record shows that Mr.
ing jerk. Johnson has failed to live up to his prom-
ise due to mul ple incarcera ons over drug
“I suppose you’d have to. At least I know usage,” the Nursing Bot droned. “I’m afraid
my job is important.” his sentence to expire has been carried
out. The burden of payment for the robo c
They returned to their separate homes, enhanced euthanasia falls to you, sir, I am
to meet their not-rela ves. Johnson, as afraid.”
Hampton, pulled out the device. Eight
hours to the finish line. Just enough me to Hampton discovered that Johnson did
make love to your wife. not have very much money. Pushing paper
was not enough to live on. He ran down the
Hampton, as Johnson, came home to sca ered hallway, shoving an intern onto
find Tom on the floor, foam shoo ng from the floor to block the Nursing Bot from pur-
his mouth. Just enough me to get to the suit. I will make it out of here. He’ll have to
hospital. take the consequences. I’m sorry, Johnson.
You should be here.
Hampton’s wife had been told about
this. Acknowledge they are not who they Johnson, as Hampton, had forgo en all
seem, but play along as if it’s real. “It’s all about his brother, about his old life. Hamp-
part of the show,” the CAO told her. “It ton’s wife lay naked in the bed, snoring con-
needs to seem real. Otherwise they won’t tently. What if I don’t wake up tomorrow?
get it.” Her not-husband came at her with
an intensity in his eyes the real one never The next day, Hampton took the Tesla
showed anymore. Suddenly it became very coupe in, the workhorse he always drove.
real for her, and she was excited. Johnson took the bus as usual, walked the
mile from the bus stop to the complex. The
Hampton, as Johnson, stood away from CAO was pleased to see the problems be-
the hospital bed. I have no memory of this tween them had ceased. They experienced
man, other than seeing his life fall apart. their final hour of the process in its office,
Then watching him die. But I’m not me. sor ng out what occurred. In these cases,
Johnson should be here. Why am I here? what usually happened was a sort of ces-
This is supposed to be a learning experience. sa on of hos li es grudgingly accepted by
both par es.
A er the best sex of his life, the not-hus-
band of Hampton’s wife got up to take a Before they reversed the sequence the
shower. Steam poured from the ceiling, pip- CAO le them alone in the room as the
ing hot water enveloping him from twenty hour expired.
faucets. Why isn’t this guy happy?
“You know what I really learned? You
Sixteen miles away, the only family John- have everything, Hampton. And you don’t
son had le in the world lay dead in a hos- even realize it. Don’t even see it in front of
pital room. Hampton, in his body, walked you.”
away from the bed.
“You know what I learned? Life is what
“Sir, there is the ma er of the bill,” a you make of it, Johnson. And you haven’t
Nursing Bot said from behind him. Since the made much of yours. Your brother is dead.”
revolu on, health care had been deemed a
privilege for humanity.

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

“What?” Johnson said, s ll not in his own This was one of the last “Live a Mile” ex-
body. periments in the complex. It was deemed
too complicated, without leading to any
“That’s right. I watched him die. You perfect resolu on. Both men were termi-
think it’s such a shame to have everything nated at the end of the week. The tower
and not see it? What about if you have and complex would last much longer than
nothing?” either of these two.

About the Author:

John Abraham is a published author and freelance journalist located in the Twin Ci es,
where he lives with his wife Mary and their cats Marble and Morrison. His debut novel,
Our Senior Year, was published in 2014 by North Star Press. His second novel, Last Man on
Campus, was published in 2015 by NSP. John has conducted freelance journalism on local
issues for MinnyApple, local newspaper the Hill & Lake Press and local transporta on blog.

18

NOTE TO THE CHILDREN

by Claudia Geagan

For Reese, for Randall in heaven, for Betsy, don’t know what they see. That’s the first
Helen, Carol and you too Pa -Cake, thing I no ced, sixty years ago, those aqua-
marine eyes, like jewels.
April 21.
April 22.
This is one le er from Dad for everybody
so you all get the same words. Sister Mary Her hair is clean today thanks to Carmella
Agatha visits and says she will copy this and although they both complained about it, but
mail it to each of you. She’ll have to pray it all Mom can do is make sounds. Desperate
up to heaven for you, Randy, but if anybody gasps for meaning. She means she’s misera-
can, it’s her. ble. And the water is too hot or too cold, but
all I can do is hold her hand and say hopeless
Your mother is strapped into her wheel things, like “it’s o.k. darling. You look beau -
chair this morning and her head lists le . ful with your hair fixed.” What kind of horse
Her chapped lips are parted but she doesn’t shit is that? It’s not o.k. None of it is o.k.
speak. Her eyes search the room, the cabi-
nets, the carpet, they scru nize Carmella. I My girl is beau ful, stunning, even now.
guess I spelled that right. I wish she weren’t That part is true. Those languid eyelids, and
here – Carmella. I promised Mom I’d always her high cheek bones, the whiteness of her
take care of her. It’s my job and Carmella wavy hair. She’s vanishingly thin, but even
gets it in her head to do things as she pleas- naked when the long creases in her arms
es –– anyway, she frightens Mom by show- and belly and withered legs show, she rav-
ing up fast and talking too loud. Stupid wom- ishes me. Her wrists and hands, long and
an. No amount of yelling makes my poor girl narrow, graceful as a swallow. Forgive me
understand. She’s not deaf. She’s gone. Just for talking about us naked, but she was the
gone. Her mind is gone, but I don’t think most beau ful woman I ever saw wearing
her feeling is. I think she feels that it is me nothing but skin. So as a baby and strong
and she feels safe, but that woman makes as a woman. Our body is one body, has
her nervous. I can’t li your Mom, though, been for decades. Our children, you, all of
and Carmella is strong as a linebacker. Looks you, came from our body. I sit some days
like one too. My legs are too weak. I can’t and just hold her hand and it feels like
change Mom’s diapers. I can’t cook for us the oxygen flows between us. I breathe
any longer. Too long. Not much longer. It because she breathes or she breathes be-
has already been a long, long, me since cause I breathe. I’ll get tears on the paper.
she le me. Her eyes are s ll clear, but they

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

April 23. recognized you. I wanted to believe that. I
want you to believe it.
I had to take a break. My hand cramped.
Carmella is back from the store. She helps April 30
me cheat. She brings Mama Vanilla milk
shakes from McDonald’s and your Mama I lost track of me. Cleaned my rifle this
will suck them through a straw. She won’t morning. Deer season is coming soon.
swallow mashed up meatloaf and peas,
shoves it in her cheek ll we have to dig May 1
it out with our fingers. So the helper and
I eat the meatloaf, but we give Mama her This le er lays here on the table and I don’t
ice cream and she dips her nose in the pho- finish it. I’ve been outside. We’re having one
ny whipped cream and looks happy. Who of those warm spells that fools the pussy wil-
cares if all she eats is ice cream? What? Di- lows and the forsythia. No problem because
abetes? Obesity? Tooth Decay? Happiness. damnable weeds that they are, late frost
She deserves a dollop of happiness. One won’t kill them. Your mother used to love
lousy dollop of happiness on top the cheap them. Don’t know where the cows went.
so serve ice cream. Carmella keeps saying that I sold them last
year but I would never have done that. Next
April 24. to my beau ful girl I loved them more than
anything. You kids are ahead of the cows too
You are all so talented. Who knew a coun- of course but you’re never here.
try doctor who made no money giving all
his me to sick people and leaving his wife Mom hasn’t eaten for a while. She’s not
and son to handle life could have such ac- up yet this morning. She’s breathing and
complished children. An engineer, a poet, a Carmella swabs her gums with morphine.
nurse, a classical scholar? Your families are Birds used to fly into our picture window,
impressive and if I could remember all the cardinals and something with chartreuse
grandchildren’s names and whereabouts breast feathers. It made me sick. Some-
I’d list them. And Pa Cake. I have known thing so random and out of place as a big
for years that Rebecca is your love and I re- wall of glass and the unsuspec ng birds
gret that I didn’t tell you that was fine with never knew what hit them. I couldn’t help
me because she does love you and because them when they fell to the ground. I put
maybe I had a lot to learn. But I’m glad you seed and water near the lady cardinal. I
and she know love. Your mother and I know could see her heart pounding in her chest,
love. but she didn’t eat it. When I went back, she
was s ff. I le her there in the dirt. That’s
April 25 nature’s way. Something will carry her off.
By pu ng that window there, I did enough
Mom is silent today. She doesn’t want to messing with nature.
eat anything. It hurts her to move. She
doesn’t know whether anyone is here or May 5
not. I’m glad all of you came around over
Labor Day because I think she knew you Time goes so fast. I’m red. Tired. Mom is
were here even if she couldn’t tell you she in bed totally quiet tonight. That’s good.

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Revista Literária Adelaide

There’s nobody but me at home now. Her can follow them. She’ll find me behind the
breathing changed, first rapid, then noth- barn. I think I’m too heavy for anything to
ing. She sat up for a second and looked at carry away.
me, then she laid back down and closed
her eyes. It’s almost dawn and I don’t have You babies were our greatest gi s. I’m
much me. I’m going outside to breathe anxious to see your Mom healthy and to
her in. I’ve le Carmella instruc ons if she meet baby Randall again.

Love, Pop (and for you girls) Daddy

About the Author:

Claudia Geagan spent most of her life in big ci es and big corpora ons using her now aging
degrees in English and Finance. Theses days she lives and writes on a leafy mountainside
near the Piedmont of the Blue Ridge. She enjoys yoga and golf. Her work has appeared in
the Lindenwood Review, Hippocampus Magazine, River Teeth’s Beau ful things, Persimmon
Tree, Adelaide Literary Magazine and others. She has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize.

21

WHERE THIEVES

BREAK IN AND STEAL

by Chase Dearinger

Friday A ernoon This is how he met her: on the Internet.
She wasn’t the first girl he’d met that way;
As Carl took the exit marked SH 33, confi- it was just so easy. He could lie about the
dence dissolved into panic. His veins nar- way he looked and they could lie about
rowed with the road. The two-lane state their age. Fat became “built” and thirteen
highway meant that the Cimarron was close became “seventeen.” Carl loved the con-
and the river meant that Corina was closer. versa on the young girls made, too. They
His blue Mark III van rolled up and down opened up completely, like they felt safe
the Oklahoma hills, the wheel well on the on the Internet. They told him things they
back ra ling with every uneven seam on wouldn’t even tell their closest friends.
the road. As he looked out his window at He had never met one in person, howev-
a tractor dealership, a motorcycle roared er. Take Cindy Egan, for instance. She was
past the van; a blonde woman with a long perfect: fourteen, hated her new stepfa-
French braid emerging from beneath her ther, had just discovered marijuana. She
helmet wrapped her arms around the waist would’ve been so easy. But she must have
of the man driving the bike. He thought told someone about Carl, because she
about Corina and the first me they would eventually vanished from the chat rooms.
touch.
Corina was different. Carl thought he
Carl gripped the steering wheel ghtly was in love with Corina. The thirteen-year-
and grit his teeth. He had been drinking old wanted to do more than talk about
too much caffeine and the effects were her exaggerated sexual past, how much
not mixing well with his newfound anxiety. she hated her parents or confess to awful
It was only a nine-hour trip from Dodson, things she wouldn’t tell her friends. She
Louisiana, but he hadn’t slept the night be- was pure: he hadn’t been able to talk her
fore; he’d stayed up deba ng whether or into phone sex as easily as the others. It
not to go on the trip. He’d never been to had taken almost three weeks of cha ng
Oklahoma and he’d never driven that far late into the night, talking about their days
for a girl.

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Revista Literária Adelaide

and what had been on her mind. Her fa- Carl was famous for his ta oo in Dodson.
ther was the manager at the RadioShack in He was one of the few ci zens in the small
a small town in Oklahoma and some kind town to bear one. He could o en be found
of Chris an. He spent all his me at work in the town’s only gas sta on – a major
and at church and Corina’s mother spent as truck stop at the edge of the town – leaning
much me away from home as possible. on the counter, drinking coffee and chat-

Carl had just turned forty that year. He ng with Kelly, the store manager. Kelly had
was a short, fat man with a thick layer of offered Carl a job many mes in the ten-
black fur all over his body. He typically wore year span since he had been fired from the
khaki pants and Hawaiian shirts. He stuffed school, but Carl wouldn’t have it. “I’m not
the coarse, black hair on his head under a going to be here much longer,” Carl would
mesh hat that read LOUISIANA across the always say. “Some me soon someone’s
front. He had a ta oo of a panther’s head going to come through here and sweep me
on his le forearm. The panther growled away, and I’ll end up happy, somewhere far
and bared its teeth beneath layers of sun away.” Kelly would just laugh.
damage and arm hair. This ta oo was Carl’s
favorite thing about himself. He hated the One night, si ng at the computer in his
shape of his body and the disgus ng hair mother’s room while she slept, Carl had
pa erns growing everywhere. told Corina that he had a ta oo.

*** “I hope this doesn’t bother you,” he had
told her, pausing to rub the panther head.
He took a hand away from the steering “But I have a ta oo. On my arm, where you
wheel and rubbed the ta oo. He had had can see it.” He waited for an answer. The
the ink done ten years earlier, when he lost blue light of the computer screen crept out
his job. Since then he had lived between his into the room, dimly revealing the green
mother’s house and the van. The van was wallpaper that his mother had put up de-
virtually empty; the upholstery and back cades before.
seats had been torn out. All that was le
were the captain seats in the front, the mi- “A ta oo? I think ta oos are sexy,” she
crofiber on the ceiling and the rope of lights responded. Carl let out a sigh. She thinks
around the top that lit up when the door I’m sexy. They kept on through the night,
was opened. A twin ma ress was on the the only noise in the room the barely audi-
floor; the single sheet was crumpled up in ble clicks of the keyboard and the muffled
the back corner. The floor was li ered with snores of Carl’s mother. She thinks I’m sexy.
cigare e bu s and a variety of Hawaiian
shirts. A video camera and its tripod sat be- “You know, if you want, we could run
tween the front seats. away together,” Carl told her, feeling con-
fident of her absolute acceptance of him.
When Carl thought of Corina Dulas, he She did not respond. He covered his face
rubbed the ta oo on his forearm. Some mes, with his hands and began rocking back and
when they would chat late into the night, the forth in the metal folding chair he sat in.
incessant rubbing of his arm would slow his That was stupid. He rubbed his face and
typing down. He would apologize, telling Co- listened to his mother’s snores un l he
rina that he was touching himself. heard the faint chime that told him she’d
responded.

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

“I’d love to run away with you. But may- longer than any of the students, prac cing
be we should meet first.” He couldn’t con- her number while her teacher played along
trol himself. He slapped his hand down on the piano backstage. This is when every-
over the ta oo and began to squeeze as he thing went wrong for Carl. When Charlo e’s
rocked. That was stupid. She thinks I’m pa- mother came to pick her up, she found her
the c. He had to think fast to make up for daughter si ng in Mr. Ele herakis’s lap,
his has ness. one arm wrapped around her and his other
hand running through her hair, smiling at
“I was just joking,” he told her. “You know her. Mrs. Thompson reported the incident
I’m too old for you.” He squeezed his arm to the principal and Mr. Ele herakis was
once more and shut down the computer. promptly fired.

*** Carl le Shreveport and moved back
in with his mother in Dodson. He couldn’t
In another life, Carl Ele herakis had taught stay in Shreveport; just thinking about run-
music at a Chris an school in Shreveport. ning into people from the school humiliat-
He was in charge of the students’ favorite ed him. Before he le town, though, Carl
ac vity of the year: the Christmas pageant. had the panther ta ooed on his forearm. It
Mr. Ele herakis had wri en this par cular was cathar c for him. He had wanted the
musical pageant himself; everything from ta oo of the panther as a symbol of power,
the music and the lyrics to the stage direc- courage and spiritual independence. Carl
no longer believed that God had a sense of
ons had been his crea on. The students humor.
spent all fall preparing for this pageant and
the en re spring preparing for a passion He ro ed for several years in Dodson.
play, but the Christmas pageant was their He had had several job offerings, especial-
favorite. ly from Kelly, the closest thing he had to
a friend; no one knew about the events
Carl had the kind of disposi on that all that got him fired him Shreveport. He told
children love – that of a child himself. He everyone that he couldn’t handle the reli-
taught his students that God had a sense gious aspect of his job anymore. Occasion-
of humor and that they should have fun ally, he was responsible for a robbery or a
with the holiday produc on and not take it car stereo the , but he never got caught.
too seriously. As the pageant got closer and He lived out the back of his van when he
closer, students would stay in the music was drinking and he lived with his mother
room a er school and prac ce their lines when he was clean and talking to girls. He
and songs with Mr. Ele herakis. He loved to never went further than phone sex with
play the piano while the children sang. This any of them; he simply didn’t have the
went on every year for seven years; teach- courage. But Corina was different. Corina
ers and parents alike praised Mr. Ele her- gave him courage.
akis for his hard work and good spirits.
***
One year, the li le girl playing Mary,
Charlo e Thompson, took a special liking Carl could see the heat waves over the Ci-
to Mr. Ele herakis. Her father had recently marron River climbing over the bank and
le the family and she was especially fond making their way onto the highway. She’s a
of Mr. Ele herakis’s a en on. She stayed

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Revista Literária Adelaide

mile away. He lit a cigare e and placed the cracks and open spaces. The only real thing
lighter in the cup holder. She thinks I’m sexy. that stopped her from leaving was Corina.
He covered the ta oo up with his hand and Charlo e loved her daughter but knew that
squeezed the panther ghtly. She thinks I’m she couldn’t take her with her where she
sexy. might be going. Wherever it was, it was no
place for a thirteen-year-old girl.
Friday Night
The phone rang and Charlo e pushed
Charlo e twisted the knob to Pots and Pans herself away from the warmth of the dish-
and leaned back on the dishwasher. Dinner washer. It was her sister, Kathy.
had been a nightmare. Victor had dragged
another one of his transients to dinner so “My friend David from work and I are
that he could shove potatoes and Jesus going to the Grasslands tonight. You in?”
down everyone’s throats. This one had Charlo e thought about it for a minute as
been par cularly strange, from Louisiana she peered into Corina’s room. She was sit-
or some other swampy hellhole. It was the
third me that her husband had invited a ng on her bed, flipping through the pages
complete stranger into their home without of a magazine, reading nothing. Victor was
no ce. She was just wai ng for their televi- at work doing inventory.
sion or teenage daughter to disappear.
“Can you pick me up right now?” Kathy
Charlo e had large, prosthe c breasts agreed and Charlo e hung up the phone.
and long, muscular legs that she believed Kathy and Charlo e had been inseparable
looked great when wearing high heels. Her during Charlo e’s younger years; she s ll
breasts were the product of a five-year called occasionally to see if she could drag
stretch of exo c dancing and personal en- her sister out one more me. Victor hated
tertainment; her legs were the product of Kathy.
fi een years of jogging. She was forty-three
years old but most men in town believed Charlo e knocked on Corina’s par ally
she was thirty. This made her husband, opened door as if she hadn’t been watch-
Victor, jealous. She spent most of her days ing and opened the door up all the way.
now in her husband’s house – at least that’s
what she’d begun calling it – folding her “I’m going to go do some things with
husband and thirteen year old daughter’s Aunt Kathy, swee e. Just wait for dad-
laundry and preparing their meals. dy. Don’t answer the door and don’t use
the phone unless it’s an emergency. Un-
She was seriously thinking about leaving derstand?” Corina simply nodded and
Victor; that much was for sure. A certain al- returned her a en on to the magazine.
lure about her past life had begun creeping Charlo e was pleased that Corina wasn’t at
into the house under the doors and through the computer; she’d been staying up a er
the cracks around the windows where seal midnight lately, cha ng with some friend
had been broken. It was something about on the Internet. “Be safe.”
the freedom. A er all, she had le her old
life for Victor and now Victor had, in his ***
own way, le her. Alone, in a house full of
Charlo e’s husband was a short, stocky
man with very li le hair le on his head.
They had been married for sixteen years
and in that me his waist had grown con-

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

siderably, his hair had fallen out and he at the computer in the corner, watching TV
had become increasing involved in the First and cha ng with her friends. Usually Co-
Bap st church in Livingwell, the small Okla- rina was focused on the computer screen
homa town they called home. and Charlo e was focused on Corina. I
can’t leave her now. She needs me more
He had been ambi ous when they than ever.
were first married; he was a salesman at
RadioShack but had hopes of opening his For two weeks Victor had been working
own store. His dream was to open up an late. He claimed he was doing inventory at
electronics store that specialized in model the store and couldn’t get any of the sales-
trains and other hobbies. He would explain men to help, but Charlo e didn’t believe
to her, as he held her in bed, that the com- him. She didn’t think there was anyone
munity didn’t want some corporate chain as else; he just wasn’t as interested in her any-
their only source of electronics. He would more. She couldn’t blame him. She wasn’t
tell her that places like RadioShack sold un- very interested in him, either.
necessary electronics by convincing people
that they needed them. But his store would ***
be different. His store would do whatever
it took to get people what they wanted, all The Grasslands was an anonymous bar in-
the while introducing them to the wonders side the Holiday Inn, the only hotel in town,
of model trains. A good, old-fashioned hob- and the bar where Charlo e had met Vic-
by store like the one where his father had tor. It was typically empty and nothing was
bought his train set. He’d never been there, different that Friday night. David was thir-
he’d say, but he knew just what it looked ty-something and dusty; he wore jeans and
like in his mind. a flannel shirt and had a dark brown mop
on top of his head. He pulled Charlo e’s
A er three years of marriage Corina had chair out for her when they sat down at the
been born and Victor had taken a manager bar.
posi on at the RadioShack out of necessity.
He had remained in that posi on ever since. “Do you go out very much with Kathy?
I’ve never seen you before.”
Corina had changed everything. Char-
lo e quit her job as a teller at Livingwell Charlo e and David shared David’s cig-
Na onal and made her daughter the cen- are es and a square yellow ashtray on the
ter of her life. Corina was smart, funny and table between them. Kathy brought beers
easy; Charlo e had never imagined raising punctuated with stories about their child-
a child would be so natural to her. By the hood.

me her daughter was ten, the two were “Charlo e prac cally raised me herself,”
more friends than anything. Corina made she told David. “Mom was always drunk
A’s without effort, spent most of her me and dad was always on the road. We were
at home and had very few friends outside on our own.” The two sisters clanked their
of her mother. glasses and downed the rest of the beer.
Charlo e’s head was star ng to spin.
Lately, the two had been staying up
late watching TV Land together; Charlo e “I can’t imagine what it’s like to be a
would sit on the couch and Corina would sit stripper,” David said. He reached across the
table and lit the cigare e that Charlo e

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Revista Literária Adelaide

had put in her mouth. She coughed loudly; When she first met him he had rescued
the cigare e was backwards. All three of her; he told her she could do more than
them erupted in laughter. Charlo e clum- dance for money. He told her she deserved
sily crawled out of the booth and offered a more. And she believed him. She had spent
hand to David. her first five years out of high school danc-
ing and dabbling in a variety of amphet-
“It’s not that hard. All you have to do is amines. Victor hadn’t judged her. They met
dance.” David made his way out of his side one night at Grasslands. He asked her to
of the booth and took her by the hand. dance despite the fact there was no music
and she had agreed. Fi een years later she
“Why don’t you show me a move or was an avid jogger and the mother of a thir-
two?” He wrapped his hand around her teen-year-old girl. She was going to leave
waist. She wore a short khaki skirt and a him; that much was for sure.

ght, yellow t-shirt. She no ced that David ***
couldn’t keep his eyes off of her breasts.
They danced without music in the empty Charlo e heard something sha er in the
bar for half an hour. Occasionally she dug kitchen and got out of bed. Victor didn’t
her hip into him and pressed her lips to his budge. She found Corina in the kitchen,
long neck, breathing deeply. cleaning broken glass up off the le floor.

David brought Charlo e home some- “What are you doing?” she asked as she
me around midnight. She dropped her pushed her daughter aside and began pick-
keys on the hardwood floor when she went ing up the broken pieces for her.
to hang them on the hook by the door. “Be
quiet, they’re sleeping,” she said to herself “I was just pouring a glass of milk.” Char-
and laughed. She slipped off her heels and lo e put the broken glass in the trashcan
dropped them on the floor. As she crept and pulled another glass out of the cabinet.
down the hallway to her bedroom, she She filled the glass with milk and handed it
no ced a light coming from Corina’s room. to her daughter.
Charlo e leaned on the doorpost and
peered into the room through the crack in “You shouldn’t s ll be up, you know.” She
the door. Corina was where she had le her, leaned against the counter and waited for
asleep, with the same magazine across her Corina’s response.
chest. Her room was as it had been since
she was three. The walls were a light green; “Have you ever thought about running
her bedspread was pink; her lace curtains away with another man?” Corina asked.
cast a water-like shadow on a picture of
a sad clown hanging over her bed. Char- “What kind of ques on is that? Why
lo e turned out the light and watched her in the world would I ever think of such a
daughter sleep. She needs me now more thing?”
than ever.
“I don’t know,” Corina said. She placed
When she crawled into bed, Victor was the half empty glass of milk in the sink. “It
already asleep. Some mes he pretended just sounds kind of roman c, you know.”
to be asleep when she came to bed but she
could always tell; he snored loudly. “There’s nothing roman c about aban-
doning the people you love, Corina.” The
two sat in silence for a minute pondering the

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

response. Corina told her mother goodnight, He introduced himself to Victor as “Mr.
kissed her on the cheek and le the room. Thompson” when he came into RadioShack
Charlo e picked the glass up out of the sink, to tell Victor his van had broken down. Vic-
rinsed it out and put it back in the cabinet. tor no ced the bed in the back when he
She would take Corina with her when she pretended to know what he was doing un-
le . She needs me now more than ever. der the van’s hood. He had done what he
considered the Chris an thing to do and
Saturday Morning invited him home for dinner. He had looked
like he could use a warm meal.
The first thing Victor no ced when he got
out of bed was that his keys were missing. ***
His keys were always on top of the chest
of drawers, on the le side closest to the Victor had been avoiding these arguments
front. His wallet was where it belonged – lately by telling Charlo e he had to do in-
right next to the keys – but the keys were ventory without help and that he wouldn’t
missing. be home un l almost midnight. In reality,
Victor was building a new neighborhood for
Victor dressed himself methodical- his train set. He had stayed late for almost
ly. First his boxers, then his short-sleeved two weeks, me culously assembling and
white shirt, then his khaki slacks and pain ng the twelve houses. The day a er he
brown belt, then his penny loafers and fi- finished, Mr. Thompson’s van broke down in
nally his RadioShack nametag. His wallet the RadioShack parking lot. Mr. Thompson
and change went in his pockets, but not had been fascinated with the train set.
his keys. He reassured himself that ev-
erything hadn’t gone to chaos. At least I “You do all of this yourself?” he asked,
have my family. He rummaged through his running his fingers along the astro-turf cov-
wife’s purse and found his spare car key. He ered plywood that made up the ground be-
hoped he hadn’t lock the keys in the store; neath the tracks and surrounding city.
he had never done that before. He looked
at his sleeping wife before he le the room. “Well, most of it. The original track and
Her stage name had been “Autumn” when town were a gi from my grandfather. It’s
she was a stripper. He some mes called her a Lionel set. Classic. The rest of it I built on
this condescendingly when they argued. my own, custom. Set means a lot to me.
That’s why I have it here right in the middle
They had argued the night before. Vic- of the store.”
tor brought home what his wife Charlo e
had called a “transient” for dinner. Her ev- “You can’t judge a man for pu ng some-
idence for him being a transient had been thing in the center of your life,” Carl said.
his odor and a ta oo of a growling panther He bent over and squinted, like he was try-
on his forearm. Victor pointed out to her ing to look into the window of one of the
that she had a ta oo herself and she simply
stormed out of the room. He was glad that ny houses.
she didn’t know that the man had a bed in
the back of his van. This would have upset “Don’t get me wrong,” Victor protested.
her even more. “It’s just the center of the store. The center
of my life is my family.” He repeated it to
himself. My family’s at the center of my life.
Some mes he just needed a reminder.

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Revista Literária Adelaide

“Well, a man s ll needs a hobby, I sup- control over his circumstances, but he had
pose,” Mr. Thompson added. control over himself. In the end, though, he
knew he could never be Mr. Thompson. He
At least I have my family. had people that cared about him, needed
him. At least I have my family.
***
***
Victor had been worrying quite a bit about
Charlo e. Since the day he married her As he parked his car in front of the Ra-
he’d been afraid that she was having an af- dioShack, he no ced that the front door
fair. Something about her exo c past made of the store was ajar. There was no way he
him not trust her. Sure, he’d loved her once. had le it unlocked. He got closer to the
He even went as far as to act like the danc- door: his keys were in the lock. Panic over-
ing thing didn’t bother him at all. But that took him. This couldn’t happen to him. He
confidence hadn’t lasted long. put his keys in the same place every me.

He had changed her, he knew that. When The store was a mess. Display items
he met her she had plans of going out east were all over the place. The store phone
with her sister, Kathy. That was the extent began ringing. A TV was smashed on the
of their plans, “to go out east,” like the east floor. A pyramid of shower radios had been
possessed some mys cal power that would toppled. But it wasn’t just the display room;
forever change their des nies. But he had the inventory room was half cleared out.
rescued her from that life, from Kathy. It Televisions, computers and VCR players
made him even angrier to think of her cheat- were gone. Victor’s heartbeat synced up
ing on him a er all he had done for her. with the phone, which wouldn’t stop ring-
ing. The car phone display case had been
It didn’t stop there, either. He had tak- smashed in; broken glass and bag phones
en the manager posi on at the RadioShack were strewn across the floor. Only Char-
because of her – her and Corina. The mon- lo e would let it ring that much.
ey he had saved to start his own business
had to move them out of their apartment In the middle of the room, however,
and into a larger house; Charlo e had de- one thing remained untouched: Victor’s
manded it. Charlo e had quickly informed train set. He braced himself with the table.
him that there was no longer room for risk. For a moment he wished he was inside the
He had to take the manager posi on so
that he could support their new daughter. ny city, living in one of the houses in the
He began ge ng involved at First Bap st new edi on, shopping at the five and dime,
church around that me, too. It gave him cha ng with other community figures at
something to throw his mind and body into the church. He knew he couldn’t go there,
that didn’t revolve around Charlo e and though. He had people here that depend-
Corina. ed on him. The phone con nued to ring,
isolated explosions in the silence that en-
Between work, church and the train set, gulfed him.
Victor had enough to focus on that wasn’t
his family. It was a world he could control. It At least I have my family.
was a world of his own. In a way, Victor en-
vied Mr. Thompson. He may not have had Edit according to edits sheet and place
seamlessly in Victor’ sec on:

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

*** ed him the vegetable plate. “Girlfriend of
mine, actually. Though she wasn’t as pre y
He had taken her to his mother’s house on as you, if Mr. Dulas doesn’t mind me say-
their first date. In the basement he had an ing.” Charlo e pretended to be shy and
elaborate toy train set that he was par cu- changed the subject.
larly proud of. The tracks were laid out on a
large piece of plywood covered in green as- “So where are you from, Mr. Thompson?”
tro-turf. The set had been a given to him by Mr. Thompson hesitated as he dished cauli-
his grandfather when Victor’s father never flower and carrots onto his plate.
came back from the Korean War. Victor was
par cularly proud of the town that he had “Louisiana. Out to see America. And a
built up around the train. few folks I know.” He handed the vegetable
plate to Victor’s daughter, Corina.
“The thing I like most about this set is
the control it gives me,” Victor said, finger- “I know a man from Louisiana,” Corina
ing the remote control. He seemed to have interrupted.
forgo en Charlo e was even in the room;
his eyes followed the train across a small “Who do you know from Louisiana?”
bridge and into the train yard. “I have com- Victor asked. Corina hesitated, too, as she
plete control over everything: the speed piled veggies onto her dish.
and direc on of the train, the shape of the
loop, the colors of the town. It’s like my “You remember Karen? Her dad was
own li le world.” from Louisiana.” She passed the plate to
her father. The room fell silent except for
When he became manager at Ra- the clanking of silverware against plates
dioShack he had moved the set out of his and the chewing of food. Charlo e glared
mother’s basement and into the store. He at Victor.
set up the plywood table top on two saw-
horses in the middle of the room. The set A er Mr. Thompson le on foot – he
served as a testament to the manager’s ob- insisted – to see about his van, Victor and
session with detail and long-term commit- Charlo e fought while Charlo e loaded
ment to things that plug into outlets. the dishwasher.

Edit according to edits sheet and place “I can’t believe you brought that va-
seamlessly within Charlo e’s sec on: grant into this house,” Charlo e said as she
scraped the remaining food into the trash-
*** can. “Who knows what he’s really like.” The
two went back and forth un l Victor called
“I once knew a girl named Charlo e,” Mr. Charlo e “Autumn” and she quit speaking
Thompson told Victor’s wife as she hand- to him.

About the Author:

Chase Dearinger’s stories have appeared in Bayou Magazine, The Southampton Review,
Fiddleblack, Short Story America, Heavy Feather Review, and other magazines. He’s currently
an Assistant Professor of Crea ve Wri ng at Pi sburg State University.

30

PORTO

by Benjamin Rees

With sand s ll in his boots, and a sleepless pace of walking no ma er how steep the
night in the Cairo airport behind him, Jor- incline of the hill. Such exer on soothed
dan took the tram from the airport towards him, and if not for the sand gra ng against
downtown Porto. It was well past midnight. his sweaty toes, he might have enjoyed the
trek to his hotel. But he kept from thinking
The city at night seen through the tram’s about the sand, taking no stock of the city
windows revealed li le to nothing of the around him, and instead kept the aim of his
cars and streets outside, and instead the mind focused on higher ends of a world he
panes of glass pitched up an honest, white had been figh ng for.
reflec on of the interior. In it he saw his
face with a two-day stubble, having recent- He had been in the desert on the bor-
ly shaved his several month long beard be- der between Syria and Turkey, serving as a
fore flying. As he looked straight at himself, volunteer in the Kurdish mili a. Though he
the skin under his eyes drooped from a se- had learned about the Rojavan revolu on
rious lack of sleep, and only with the sheer from afar on various internet forums and
force of will he had learned to employ as a subforums, it was not un l he had a ended
nightwatchman did he keep himself awake. a talk by one of their mili a man who had
He tucked his chin close to the collar of his immigrated to the US that he began taking
olive colored canvas jacket and sat like a the cause seriously. As he was leaving the
compressed spring ready for ac on at any cafeteria on campus he had seen a flyer
moment. pinned to a cork board that invited anyone
who read it to a end a free talk with the
At his stop he stepped of the tram and agenda of discussing the Rojavan struggle
took a compass from the breast pocket of for sovereignty.
his jacket before hois ng his duffle bag over
his shoulder. He found the north exit of the The mee ng was held one Saturday
sta on in seconds when the li le red arrow night at 8 PM in a room usually rented for
pointed eagerly in his leveled palm. studying in the student center. A er the
talk Jordan stayed behind and spoke with
The kilometer and a half up hills and the speaker, a man born in Rojava with a
then back down them s rred his blood to short, dense beard in the floodlit parking
life. His body had become s ff from si ng lot. They stood for hours by their parked
on poorly cushioned vinyl chairs in termi- cars, long a er the sunset, discussing what
nals and standing in line for many hours. exactly the the word revolu on meant to
Jordan made a point of keeping the same

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

each other, how it was possible for wom- with the world itself, and he felt his blood
en to be given the dignity to fight alongside spark to life like the primer of a bullet
men, and, how every creature, human and struck by a firing pin, hurling him at once
animal alike, deserved more dignity than violently towards a just world to come, one
they received under the reign of capitalis c that would eventually reach all corners of
imperialism. the earth. No part of Jordan’s conscience
hesitated the first me he took aim at the
At first he found himself taking small shape of the enemy and squeezed the
steps towards the decision. Over his final trigger while taking slow and deliberate
two semesters before gradua ng he moved breaths, just as they had taught him to do
back in with his parents to save money, read in training.
about the legality of joining a foreign mili-
One day, a er the figh ng had dwin-
a as an American combatant, looked up dled to an occasional gun shot far off in the
flights, and had to decide whether he ought distance, he was told to leave Rojava, and
vaccinate himself against any disease. Then, to leave immediately. A new enemy west
without even knowing exactly how, right of Rojava had reared their head on the
a er his final class, and before his gradu- horizon, and it was absolutely forbidden
a on, he found himself at the precipice of for him to so much as aim a rifle in the di-
the ma er, looking down from the edge rec on of Turkey, who were an ally of the
where all that remained was a great leap na on that issued his passport even if on
from one side of the planet to the other by complicated terms he might not agree with.
flying from New York to Erbil. The caliphate had essen ally fallen, and so
Jordan had packed his duffle bag and began
During his month long training, his body his long trip home.
willingly turned itself into a kind of idea that
no longer no ced chaffing thighs, waking The recep onist at the hotel spoke per-
up with sand covering his clothes and skin, fect English. “Jordan Moore, yes, we have
or fearing that he might have to go days a single suite room ready for you,” he said
with only one bo le of water to survive on. as he stood up behind his desk and pushed
And before long he was on the front line a form towards him. The recep onist was
for the first me, crouched behind a crum- alert despite the late hour, and ready to
bling brick wall, using a small mirror to peak help the weary to their warm showers
around the corner without exposing him- and fresh linen. Jordan would have rather
self to combatants of the Islamic state who stayed in a room with many bunk beds at
were behind another crumbling wall a hun- a hostel, but this budget hotel was all he
dred meters away. He looked at his hands could find at the last minute during his
to see if they were shaking, but they didn’t. short layover in Cairo before his phone had
This surprised him. Jordan had worried that died.
might have to overcome some fear to des-
ert his sta on. But, instead, he felt opposite He looked over the paper and signed it.
forces inside him winning out. “Thanks,” he said to the recep onist as he
turned towards a bellboy who appeared
Figh ng for the revolu on in Rojava in- from the elevator’s opening doors. When
vigorated him on that first mission. It pro- the bellboy approached, Jordan ghtened
vided a point on which his indigna on to- his grip around the straps of his big. The
wards the world’s injus ces made contact

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Revista Literária Adelaide

bellboy did not offer to carry it, and he was zenith. Only one day remained before he
rather surprised when Jordan gave him a home flew to New York, a er a short flight
gratuitous p of ten euros when he had and an hour layover in Lisbon. Two days
been shown to his room, taking the bill a er his return he had an interview sched-
from a small bundle of euros he had with- uled with a local news sta on. They had ar-
drawn from an ATM. ranged it with him a week before via email
to sit down and talk on camera. The email
The bellboy’s smile eased into an ex- was unclear whether his interview would
pression of good will as he decided to go be broadcast live, but, regardless of that,
through the extra effort of showing Jordan he looked forward to the opportunity to
his way around the room. “You put your speak of the revolu on.
card into this slot on the wall to turn on
the lights. And, here, the hot water in the His day before him was empty of any
shower is marked backwards. Turning the duty or obliga on, and the only require-
blue knob will make it hot, not cold. Oh, ments were that he exist and nourish him-
and also, if you do drink anything from the self. It seemed surviving would be simple
minibar, we won’t know so long as you re- enough in Porto with clean tap water, a few
place it before you leave,” he said. euros in his pocket, and the simple knowl-
edge that there were grocery stores all
Jordan said, “Thanks.” around. Today, he could walk freely, a white
male in combat boots with a tanned face,
The moment the bellboy le , Jordan an cipa ng no challenge or threat, expect-
took the card from the slot in the wall. In ing no gunshots in the distance.
the dark room, he set down his bag, and
then took off his jacket and laid it over his With the excep on of pickpockets, he
bag. As he did, he took from the side pocket could think of no danger out there wait-
of his bag a water bo le that was scuffed ing for him, and, a pickpocket was a mi-
and dented, sanded raw to a bright sheen nor threat at that. It was not too difficult
of aluminum from falling many mes in the to spot a pickpocket anyway, from the way
sands of another con nent. He filled it up, they hold their jackets over their hand, and
and then drank it down in a single draught the way their awareness hovers on towards
without rinsing it, then filled it again, and their prey while also making a point to keep
set it on the night stand next to his bed. their eyes vacantly ahead. If he were to have
Without closing the curtains, and without his small bundle of euros stolen, no doubt
taking off his shirt, pants, or shoes, he re- a piece of him would be angry, but another
clined atop the bed cover, not quite laying piece would understand his contact with a
down, propped up against the large pillows. thief as connec ng with someone reduced
to poverty, vic ms in their own right forced
Before he even felt an inch of sleep be- to doing anything they could to keep their
gan to overtake him, the morning sun of an nose above water, be ng on a day in the
April day shined through the window. The future wherein they would no longer have
air above the city was saturated with hu- to steal to survive. And Jordan had been
midity and vague amounts of pollu on into figh ng for exactly that day. He was too
a diluted blue-gray haze, but at his window,
when he looked straight up, he saw the red to remember where he had read a
deep blue of a clear morning at the sky’s phrase that had become ta ooed on his

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

heart, to “never treat anyone as a means to in Rojava had become rou ne and stale. It
an end, but always as an end in themselves.” was ruinous, too, in its own way, not from
But he could hardly remember what route
he had taken from the tram sta on to his me, but from war.
hotel as it was.
A small trace of those sands were s ll
He showered with warm water for the with him, grinding against his heel, yet it
first me in many months, and put on a was not the right me to unlace his boots
new pair of boxers and socks before pu ng and pour out the sand. The grains felt like
back on his shirt and pants from the prior a bulwark against the sights of Porto which
day. had come upon him suddenly. No, it could
wait ll a er breakfast.
At the recep on desk, he greeted the
same man from the night with a nod, and Ahead he saw the store, and, in front of
said, “Is there a grocery store near by I it, a man with a bruise on his right cheek
could walk to?” and the dull eyes of despera on walking
around its entrance in an aimless panic.
“If you turn right when you leave here This man’s hand was nothing more than sin-
and walk up the street about 200 meters, ews and shrinking bones, and one of them
there is one on your right,” the recep onist held a paper cup that jangled with coins in
said, and smiled. it. Jordan knew at once he was a beggar.

Outside in the street, he took in Porto A car pulled up and parked on the curb
for the first me. Walking along the old across the street. The beggar walked over
cobble which looked like a mouth with to it, standing in the middle of the road
missing teeth, he passed an abandoned lot as he opened the door and solicited mon-
with a red brick wall that was topped with ey. The man exi ng the car gave him a few
rusty barb wire placed there to keep the cents to purchase the beggar’s absence,
public out. Through an iron gate in the wall, and walked away in a huff of annoyance.
he could see an orange tree growing out of
a large crack in the cement. But it’s perfect- Inside the store Jordan had to pass be-
ly edible fruits were le there alone, some fore a tall security guard standing nearby
of them having already ripened and fallen before pushing through the turns le en-
onto the ground to rot. trance-only gates. The security guard had a
large chest, that was crossed with anacon-
The facades of blue and white le had da sized arms. He looked at Jordan as he
been faded in the Mediterranean sun into approached. Jordan tried to catch his eye,
maligned and unintended colors, becom- to show a sly, but unmistakable contempt,
ing saturated by light for many days into a though he did not connect with the guard
shade somewhere between the musky yel- who saw Jordan only as a mere tourist and
low found in old books and the ceiling in looked past him towards the front door.
a smoker’s home. These facades with their
intricate and repea ng pa erns of vines He had not eaten meat for some years,
and flowers did not displease Jordan. They and found the butchered slabs of cow ribs
were the first sight that began nudging him under a red light that accentuated the
out of Rojava and towards the fact that he bloody flesh in the deli counter so displeas-
was back in the West. What he had seen ing that he avoided ge ng close to them.
Once, a er a few minutes wandering aisles,

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Revista Literária Adelaide

he found a bag of peanuts on the shelves ing in a kind act. Yet, he was overtaken by
whose organiza on he could not exactly something profound and human in the ex-
understand, he returned to the front of change with the beggar, and aside from the
the store where the bread and fruit laid in warm shower that morning, this was one of
abundant piles. For his breakfast he picked the few true pleasures he had felt in almost
up three rolls with sunflower seeds baked a year. S ll, in many ways he was fortunate
on their tops, and decided on taking a few to be in a country where he could carry out
more to carry in his coat pockets for later. his silent act of goodwill unno ced, that it
He broke a couple of bananas off of a mas- might forever be his own, almost as if a se-
sive bundle and went to stand in the check- cret with himself and the world.
out line. If someone were to steal a roll or
a banana from him, they could be forgiven. Throughout the day he walked on and
But a pickpocket most likely never knew for on, ignoring the sand in his boots un l the
sure what they were taking, and in that way right moment came. He had no des na on
it was slightly humorous that it was possi- in mind, but regularly checked his compass
ble to have a roll swiped from his pocket. in order to keep his bearings. Before him a
Then again, why not simply give bread to tall bridge stretched across a large river, and
the desperate, and why not start by giving he began to cross it. As he had been walk-
the beggar outside a few rolls. Jordan le ing around in the thick of the city moments
the check out line and returned to pick up before, Jordan had seen so many churches
a few extra rolls and bananas. he was not sure that he had not passed the
same ones from different angles. But no, he
The beggar almost began to cry when had his bearings alright.
Jordan gave him the few euros in change he
had received from the cashier along with From the start of the bridge he could
the meager ra ons he’d bought for him. see behind him that there were indeed
The ela on on his face gave way to prayers many churches. Whenever he had passed
and blessings in a language Jordan could them, Jordan had sneered at the tourists
not understand. The beggar began to kneel, who stood in lines with their black and
growing weak in the knees, and seemed yellow camera straps, craning their necks
like he was on the verge of praising Jordan like poultry wai ng for feed as they looked
himself, who reached out and raised the up at the bell towers. The churches’ tow-
man to his feet at once, placing his hands ers were crumbling, and the top of their
on the beggars arms. steps smelled of sunbaked urine, yet it was
as if these features only further a racted
He turned to walk away, content, at the tourists. Perhaps these churches were
least, in knowing that even where they necessary at one me, with corrup on and
could not speak the same language, they at persecu on the only means by which to
least ate of the same bread as equals. He govern humanity, yet a day was soon com-
had grown accustomed to denying himself ing with no stone monuments serving any
any version of events wherein a good deed purpose.
was not solely his duty, and he had been
focused for so many months on turning his From the center of the bridge he
mind and body into an idea that he rarely stopped and looked back at the city on
permi ed himself the pleasure of indulg- the hill. It rose up against the years, de-
spite me weighing on it like the gravity of

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

a large, alien planet, and stood as a hymn when the wind picked up or the de rose.
to its own beauty. For the first me, he He knew how easily sand could be picked
no ced and failed to reject an involuntary up in a breeze and thrown about into eyes
wave of comfort at being back in the West. and mouths. Only the sand immediately
The walls and roofs of the pastel and bright below him and his hevals had ever stayed
buildings were so vivid that they rooted s ll, weighed down by their shadows and
him to the spot with their beauty. The sun their sweat, not budging in the wind as if
glided over the hill as a small breeze might in solidarity with their resolve. The day for
graze a major chord on a perfectly tuned them had ended, as the sun had just surely
standing harp, and the murmur of the set in the Levant, and, just over the horizon
pleasant sight poured into him and reached it began to rise on New York. He imagined
deep into his being in a way no abnega on all the faces of friends and family, rising and
of his will could deny, placing him in Porto mee ng one another in the streets and ca-
beyond what could be doubted. fes on a bright morning at the end of Spring.
A shudder of loneliness ran up his spine and
He climbed down from the bridge by into his heart. He resisted the tempta on
narrow stairs carved into the mountain to to give into such self-pity, and thought back
reach the river, and began making his way to the many genuine friends he had made
along the brackish water out towards the over the past year.
ocean. Along the way he stopped at anoth-
er grocery store and refilled his aluminum On the way to the hotel a er the sun
water bo le in the bathroom sink. By the had set, Jordan became rather red from
walking up and down the hilly streets for
me he made it to the beach, the sun had hours, his senses worn down in a land of in-
begun its descent, though night was s ll finitely novel sights and smells that barged
many hours away. He found a rock to sit on into his awareness with no reference be-
that was the size of suburban house. Wave yond themselves. Everything seemed en-
a er wave roared and crashed against the
rock that supported him, and in no way rely new, and taxed him to assimilate
did it budge an inch. His feet were swelling, the abundance of s muli. He stepped into
and he thought it was as good a me as any a bakery and ordered a sweet roll and an
to empty the Rojavan sand from his boot. espresso by poin ng at the combo sign
above the counter.
With his le boot unlaced, he took his
foot out, and then removed his sock. Af- The bakery had six tables crammed to-
fec ng the closest thing to a ceremonial gether, crea ng a forced in macy between
gesture he allowed himself, he poured the everyone inside. Only one seat was open,
sand from his shoe before him into a small and before he sat down, he gestured to
pile, and then shook those grains from his a couple who were si ng next to it en-
sock as if they were ashes thrown to the grossed in conversa on. They smiled and
wind. He placed his sock and shoe back on said something in Portuguese he did not
his le foot and by habit, laced up his boot understand and turned back to each oth-
er. With the espresso and roll reviving him,
ghtly, before unlacing his right boot and he sat for a few minutes, and enjoyed the
repea ng the mo ons. break from the honest labor of walking. He
was in no rush to return to his hotel which
The small pile of foreign sand would
soon be carried into the Atlan c ocean,

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Revista Literária Adelaide

was mostly up hill for what he es mated to a emp ng to suppress her quiet sobs. The
be s ll several kilometers. grandmother paused briefly to address the
girl in what seemed to be an expression of
At the neighboring table sat what “you should know be er” before turning
looked like a grandmother, a mother, and back to chat.
her daughter. The daughter seemed to
be about 11 years old. The mother and During the en re ordeal, no one in the
grandmother were cha ng away, sipping bakery so much as flinched to intervene.
their espresso, and leisurely picking at the The couple next to him had looked up for
same bread Jordan had just consumed. The an instant, but had gone back to talking
daughter had nothing before her on the ta- unfazed. It had happened so quickly and
ble. She sat quietly and pressed her thumbs unexpectedly that Jordan had had no idea
into salt crystals she had poured onto the what to do. Now that the bea ng was over,
table in a pile. he s ll felt it was necessary to step in and
say something, anything. He remained
The past, present, and future merged quietly seated, trying to catch the grand-
together in that family as three genera ons mothers eye without directly staring at her,
went about their day together as one. Jor- though she seemed to deliberately ignore
dan could see only the back of the mother’s his glances.
head, but he had a clear sight of the grand-
mother. She was wearing makeup, had A grave impotence began coursing
kindly eyes, and hair dyed a reddish-brown. through his veins. Were he to say some-
thing, it was unlikely the mother spoke
While Jordan watched on, the daugh- English, and Jordan knew no Portuguese.
ter reached towards her mothers plate to Were he to try and get between the moth-
grab an abandoned pastry crumb while her er and crying daughter, she would call the
mother was leaned forward talking with police. He knew it would go very poorly for
anima on. The daughter pressed a crumb him to be in that posi on, some strange
to her finger, and began withdrawing her foreign man with blonde hair and blue eyes,
hand fur vely. The mother, looking down trying to keep a mother from her weeping
and seeing her sneaking hand, quickly daughter.
smacked the crumb from the daughter’s
finger with a sharp rebuke. The daughter What if he were to try and directly con-
cried out sharply, like an animal whose front the mother. That was not at all pos-
leg is snared in a trap. Hurt and surprise sible. Most likely, he would provoke her
clouded her brow as she raised her hands anger towards him, and if she were to hit
to defend herself. The mother began to him, he knew nothing to do then but run.
strike her, forcing down the daughters de- No ma er the outcome of the situa on, it
fenses, un l she could smack her face. The might escalate, his flight would be difficult
daughter’s protest faded into a seeming- to catch were he in jail. Or the nega ve
ly-resigned sob, which seemed to cull the a en on could make the mother lash out
mother’s fury. A er a single hard slap, the further against the daughter. He was crip-
bea ng ceased. The mother turned back to pled by the awareness that he was power-
the grandmother and resumed their chat- less to help, completely incapable of mak-
ter picking up their conversa on as though ing a change in the face of so obvious an
uninterrupted, while daughter sat there, injus ce.

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

His sta c anger reached a pitch, his own the situa on as clearly. Like a sophist they
despair at looking on, his silence a conces- wove doubt into the whole situa on, jus-
sion to the injus ce before him. As he got
up to leave the bakery, he had to suppress fying a kind of complicity which allowed
an urge to slap the mother as he walked them to sleep easily. He saw it clearly, more
passed her. The grandmother saw his harsh clearly than anyone there in the bakery
eyes at last, and he hoped she would un- had. He always saw the world clearly, and
derstand the look on his face. But all she his hevals had given him a posi on a ways
returned to him was a smile that condoned behind the front line from which to snipe
her own daughters deeds. She likely had the enemy. But, then, his en re existence
slapped the mother years before as she there was submerged in a world fueled by
had been slapped for being disrespec ul the rhetoric of martyrdom.
or greedy. He read her approval as a legacy
that stretched back towards crea on. As he sat by the window in a chair, he
no ced that the lights were on, and that
Her look nearly invited Jordan to say the reflec on of the room and its contents
something, no, not invited, but seemed to were obstruc ng his last chance to see
challenge him. In him she seemed to have Porto by night. With a last glance at him-
found an enemy, an outsider to her culture. self he rose to find the switch. He returned
His was the only judgment in the cafe. Her to his chair a er turning out the light, and
mouth turned up into a smile as their eyes looked out at the orange led roofs lit by
locked, and he saw her relish in her victory. pink street lights, and what li le of the city
She did not need to know much, or really he could see. He looked at his watch’s neon
anything about Jordan to see his disgust, glow-in-the-dark hands. The sun was de-
and he saw that she relished in his defeat. scending in the New York sky, and soon it
would be rising again over Rojava. He felt
Out in the dark street, he could see himself in a limbo, hoping that somehow
through the clean windows into the bright this night did not really exist. His heart be-
bakery. With one final look as he walked by, hind him in the desert and his home a sky-
he saw the daughter s ll crying, her situa- line of towers ahead of him, having fallen
somewhere in a meridian between the two
on further wrought with pain by the fact ci es and two different me zones a world
that no one spoke up on her behalf, con- apart, he felt, presently, that he was never
doning the whole situa on many mes over. really there.

The walk to his hotel took an hour and a By the me he boarded the plane the
half. He marched up hill, his pace quick to next day, he only wished that no one at
keep his body engaged in mindless ac on. home or in the interview would ask him
When he got to his room, his s fled anger what he thought of Porto. But really who
poured forth in a torrent. He punched the would? He had taken part in a cause far
palms of his own hands, one a er the oth- greater than that city, more grand than Eu-
er, making loud slaps that pierced the quiet rope and America. He had fought in a war
of the hotel. Then he went into the bath- against every form of injus ce and inhu-
room and looked at himself in the mirror as manity, and he assured himself that others
he breathed through his nose, surely loud needed, more than ever, to hear his mes-
enough to hear in the hall. sage.

Someone should have spoken up. No,
he can’t expect them to. They don’t see

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Revista Literária Adelaide

About the Author:

Benjamin Rees is from the United States and is 29 years old. For his bachelor’s degree he
double majored in philosophy and psychology at the University of Memphis. He has recently
graduated from the Katholieke Universiteit Leuven with a Master’s degree in philosophy.
Currently he is working as a lecteur d’anglais at the University of Haute-Alsace, France.

39

ZAMBONI PUDDLE

by Joe Miller

“Can’t now,” she says. “You’re going to have “Seawood Falls Arena. It’s a ska ng party.”
to take him.”
“Great. Even be er.”
He knows an extra shi for Stacey
means me and a half, and extra cash for “At least you’re familiar with the place.”
them, but the alterna ve feels like a prison
sentence. “Funny babe,” he says.

With one hand on the wheel, his phone He releases his hand off the steering
wedged between his shoulder and his stub- wheel and lets the Silverado dri into the
bled cheek, he grunts for a way out her pro- next lane while he wrenches the metal tab
posal. on the Red Bull can. Stacey says she has
to get back to work. She thanks him, tells
“You said go get a present. You didn’t say him it’ll be good for them, him and Jakey,
I had to go.” When she doesn’t answer he but he knows he should be thanking her.
realizes she wasn’t nego a ng. It was set- Nurse money pays more than store super-
tled before he had answered the phone. visor money, and her extra shi probably
just allowed him another month without
“Where’s it at?” he asks. He spiders his losing his truck. He gulps half the Red Bull
hand into the blue plas c Walmart bag and slides back into his lane, dri ing down
tossed on the seat next to him. The bag is Highway 104, frozen rows of Minnesota dirt
pulled ght around the cardboard packag- on either side. Rows of lengthy scars mark
ing for a Spiderman car or jet or whatever the harvested soil, fer le land se ling into
the hell it is. Just a piece of shit for Jakey to months of ice and solitude.
bring to some kid’s birthday party. A hunk
of plas c entry fee into a wasted a ernoon “You’re late, Burnsy,” his mother-in-law
of screaming energy, half-eaten pizza slices, tells him holding the side door open while
and one-upping parents. He fiddles around he drags his brown boots across her mud-
un l his fingers squeeze the long narrow room floormat.
Red Bull beneath the can of mint Skoal and
the bag of prime cut beef jerky. “Technically Stacey’s late,” he says.

“You’re not going to like it,” she says. “Mm.” She peels her maroon sweat-
shirt down, an a empt to cover her den-
“Oh fuck me, it’s not one of those pot- im-tarped backside, the fabric stretching
tery pain ng places, is it?” thin like a sheet of fruit roll up swallowing
a basketball. He follows her into the den. In

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Revista Literária Adelaide

one perfected mo on, she trus alls into exhale long, but his sternum flu ered like
her brown suede recliner and cranks the he was going to vomit. “You can’t do any-
handle on the side, popping the foot rest thing right.”
out, her bri le feet sharpened to the edge
of the fabric. A er a lengthy produc ve Burnsy’s ins nct was to yell at his son.
cough, she croaks out to Jakey in a percus- Tell him to shut up, it’s just a goddamn
sive snarl. birthday present for some dipshit kid, quit
crabbing, you’re almost a teenager, be a
“Jakey. Come on down. Your daddy’s man. He’d yelled that plenty. Jakey is just
here for ya.” sensi ve, Stacey said. But while he drives
along the cul-de-sac he just sits there and
Jakey’s so footsteps plod lightly on wonders how you tell an eleven-year-old
the hollow carpeted stairs. Burnsy sees his that he’s actually right about his dad. He’s
son’s eyes are red and puffy. He’s been cry- got me pegged. Maybe I can’t do anything
ing, and he knows his mother-in-law must right.
have already told him that Burnsy, not his
mother, would be taking him to the birth- While Jakey sniffles into his puffy jack-
day party. et, Burnsy replays in his thoughts every bit
of useful fatherly advice he can remember
Jakey wrestles with his slick navy down seeing in movies. No one ever told him how
coat and is audibly frustrated with his unco- to be a dad. He and Stacey had Jakey young,
opera ve sleeves. Burnsy wants to help, to and Burnsy’s dad wasn’t the role model to
tell Jakey to calm down and just let him zip earning a “Father of the Year” coffee mug.
him up peacefully. He chews on the stubble All Burnsy’s knowledge of good fathers
in the corner of his mouth and watches, al- came from movies. He presses play on
lowing his son to eventually fight through it. the movie scenes in his mind. The cartoon
Mufasa says “Remember who you are” to
“You ready, bud?” Simba through some clouds. “Anger clouds
the mind. Turned inward, it is an uncon-
Jakey doesn’t answer and pokes open querable enemy,” Master Splinter tells Ra-
the screen door. He gently closes it so that phael. “That’s why they call them crushes.
it doesn’t slam behind him, then walks over If they were easy, they’d call them some-
and crawls into the passenger seat of the thing else,” Samantha’s dad tells her on the
truck in the carport. couch in Sixteen Candles. He doesn’t know
why he thinks of Sixteen Candles, but soon
“Thanks Denise,” Burnsy says before fol- he’s laughing at Anthony Michael Hall in his
lowing his son. head. It takes another sniffle from Jakey
to remind him his train of thought had
His mother-in-law just nods from be- stopped at the sta on of movie advice.
neath her glasses, squin ng at the remote
control in her palm. None of the movie advice seems to fit,
but it’s all more advice than he ever got
Jakey is whimpering before Burnsy can from his father. Burnsy thinks on his own and
back out of the driveway. eventually just tries to make it up himself.

“I’m sure he likes Spiderman too.” “Some mes you have to put up with stuff
you hate so you can get what you want in
“No.” Jakey sniffs, then says something
that sounds like “I said to get Jus ce League.
Not Spiderman.” He heaved and began to

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

the long run.” As his words bump around cep on is far warmer than Burnsy would
the cab of the truck and se le into their expect from his old boss. He keeps Jakey
ears, he isn’t sure if that was for Jakey or for walking and doesn’t linger.
himself. Jakey says nothing. Silence takes
hold of the drive. The father and son pass through heavy
swinging doors, dividing the cold fumey air,
“Join me, and together we shall rule the the hopeful spor ng dreams of boys, the
galaxy as father and son,” he says finally, desperate hopes of faltered fathers from
breathing the cold metallic snore of Darth the stale and serene lobby. Burnsy knows
Vader and giving up on homemade dad ad- exactly where the rink party room is. He’s
vice, leaning on humor as a crutch. scrubbed mashed sheet cake off the rubber
floors more mes than Jakey’s had birth-
“Don’t ruin this,” Jakey says. Burnsy taps days himself. They follow the rink boards to
his knuckles on the steering wheel and the party room and the door erupts open
stops trying. before Burnsy can knock.

It’s quiet un l Burnsy rips the s ck shi A blonde woman in cuffed denim and
up into park. It’s the same parking spot he painted-on enthusiasm, a mom abandon-
used to squeal into with his old grey Cav- ing ship, escapes the room and leaves the
alier. He shoves the Spiderman whatever door open. She holds a cordial nod long
into an empty gi bag, no ssue paper, and enough for Jakey to pass and drops it as
they make their way in the smudged glass soon as he does, dar ng for anywhere else.
entrance doors of the rink.
The sound of condensed disorder hits
Burnsy hasn’t worked at the ice hock- Burnsy like the first four bleeps of a pre-
ey rink in over eight years. He hasn’t been dawn alarm clock: you don’t know where
here in almost five, but none of it has it’s coming from, you just know you want it
changed. The en re building is constantly to stop. The room is an ac ve prison riot of
wet; soaked rubber and soggy ambi on, ten and eleven-year-olds bounding clum-
the dank smell of spent mo on. The ice a sily from table to table. The prison guards,
frozen canvas washed over again and again a broken mingling of mothers huddled to-
and again. gether at the corner of a table do nothing
to subdue the inmates. An old man in a
Burnsy spots Rick, his old rink supervi- maroon vest, an obvious outsider, perhaps
sor, right where he le him eight years ago: an involuntary cap ve held for ransom, is
plopped on a high-backed stool behind the twis ng balloon animals in the corner, too
skate counter, his cane hooked around the slow for the shouts of the riotous inmates.
back. He’s on the phone. Not a normal cell One prison guard, a mom, no ces Burn-
phone, but a massive plas c brick tethered sy and brightens like the doomed kid in a
to a twenty foot slinkied cord. horror movie running past an even slower
vic m.
Burnsy thinks he and Jakey might be
able to slip by unseen, but Rick li s his “Hey guys,” another mom wails at them.
snout and peers at them from under his Kayla. She works with Stacey. Her misplaced
glasses. He drops a nod at Burnsy with the sympathy is probably the reason they’re
faintest hint of serendipity on his face. He there. She bangs her palms together at the
could just be holding in drool, but the re-

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Revista Literária Adelaide

swarm of children, an awkward clap. “Jor- of presents the final bargaining chip the
dan, look who’s here baby. It’s Jake and Mr. guards possess. Burnsy crams his hands
Burns.” The brutes pause to glare at Jakey into his jean pockets and tries to tread wa-
and Burnsy, and without acknowledge- ter in the social se ng. He floats for a few
ment, cannonball back into their revelry, minutes before Jordan’s dad, either out of
sword figh ng with inflated balloons. Jakey pity or annoyance, stands back up to small
drops his eyes to the floor. talk with Burnsy.

Burnsy nudges his son’s shoulder. “Go “So where’re you at these days, Kev? S ll
on, bud. Go play.” down at Auto Valu?”

Jakey twists in place for a moment, then “Yep. Bout seven years now.” Here it
inches slowly toward the frenzy. comes, Burnsy thinks.

“Nice to see you Kevin. I thought Stacey “Well hey, that’s great. Really great.” Jor-
was bringing Jake,” one of the prison guards dan’s dad shi s his weight back and forth,
offered. None of his friends call him Kevin. flexing his khakied thighs. “Yep. Seven years
good luck, am I right?” He chuckles. Burnsy
“Hospital needed her to stay,” he said. nods. “Yeah we’re coming up on ten years
running the MinnBank branch here. Shooo.
“Bless her heart,” rang the chorus of Time flies, eh Kev?”
moms. Only one other dad was there. The
rest were no doubt out in their fields har- “You betcha.”
ves ng their crop of soy. No off days in Min-
nesota autumns. Burnsy waits. He’s comfortable without
conversa on. He’s comfortable blending
The other dad pops up and juts his hand into the background. He knows that coffee
out s ff for Burnsy. He shakes it firm. “Hey breath bigshot can’t stand not hearing his
Kev. Real glad Jake could make it.” Jordan’s own voice, so he cul vates the absence of
dad talks close. Burnsy can smell the Fol- talking. But eventually bigshot gives in.
gers and Marlboro lights hiding on the back
of his tongue. “Jordan’s been pumped for “Say, that’s too bad about Jake and hock-
this. Jake bring his hockey skates?” ey. You used to play, right?” he doesn’t wait
for Burnsy’s nod. “Weren’t you on that ’97
“Ah. No. Jake didn’t take much to hock- Seawood Falls High team?”
ey, so we’ll just rent some skates for him.”
Burnsy shi s on his heels and leans back Burnsy grunts.
away from the coffee breath.
“Whew. I was just a freshman when you
“Huh. Sure. Yeah, I guess that’ll work for guys won, but man. State champs. That was
him.” something. That’s just too bad you didn’t
go further, you know?”
“Oh. This is for Gordan.” Burnsy says li -
ing the Spiderman thing in a bag. Burnsy has turned his head to watch
Jakey. As Jakey moves around the room,
“Jordan.” the horde of inmates morphs and evades
like an amoeba, leaving him alone no mat-
“Right. Jordan. From Jakey, of course.” ter where he goes. It’s already happened.
They’ve turned on him.
Jordan’s dad takes it and sets it in the
corner behind the prison guards, the pile

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

“Kev?” he smells the coffee before he hears learned confidence and hard work. That
the voice. ice was where he learned to stand up for
himself and to fight for others. That ice was
“Huh?” where he could dream. He had hoped that
his son would find those same things on
Jakey finds a chair somewhere in be- that ice. It all seems to have melted away
tween the prisoners and the guards and to puddles.
plunks himself into. The other kids laugh,
throw things at Jakey and pretend they had He swings the doors open into the lobby,
no idea. He never had a chance. The rink and Rick is s ll where he le him, si ng on
and the party room are chilled cold, but his stool. His eyelids spread and the heavy
Burnsy can feel the blood pumping from his creases above his brow raise when he sees
heart get ho er and ho er. Burnsy.

“I said, didn’t you used to work here in “Burnsy. Burnsy.” Rick waves him over, as
high school? At the rink?” if Burnsy were going somewhere else any-
way. Rick shi s off his stool and plants his
“Yeah.” He says, the testosterone spiral- cane on the rubber floor, inching up to the
ing through his bloodstream, a conductor counter. When Burnsy last le this place,
for heat in his veins. “Not just high school, he and Rick hadn’t been on great terms, so
though. Worked here l I was twenty-five.” to say Burnsy is suspicious would be calling
Burnsy turns defiantly into the coffee the race a mile before the finish.
breath. “Cause I was a fuck up. Then got
fired cause I was a fuck up. S ll am a fuck “Hiya Rick. Uh, need to borrow some
up.” skates. Size five.”

He pulls his hands from his jean pock- “Burnsy. Cri er’s in jail.” This wasn’t a
ets and they’re balled fists. He realizes the major shock to Burnsy. Cri er probably be-
moms are all turned and staring at him, and longed in jail. He once saw Cri er, a former
the children have stopped to laugh in hud- colleague at the rink, if you can call him a
dled throngs at the bad words he just said. colleague, shoot a bo le rocket out of the
top of a bong before taking a ten second
“Sorry,” Burnsy says. “I go a get Jakey toke. On the clock.
some skates.” He backs out of the door, and
as the cool air of the ice rink breathes on “Yeah? Who brought him in, Andy or Bar-
his neck, his fists fla en, and he raises his ney Fife?”
palms in forgiveness to the prisoners and
prison guards. “Goddamn parents from Edina called
the cops on him while he was driving the
The fumes from the ice coils and Zam- Zamboni. Right before a game this morn-
boni exhaust whips up Burnsy’s nostrils. ing. Cops dragged him right off the Zam. He
The cold embraces him like a grandmother blew a point two.”
savoring family moments, cherishing the
slipping me much more than the rest of “Jesus. How’s the Zamboni?”
the family. His pulse slows. As he walks
around the boards of the rink he looks “That’s the thing. Ain’t got nobody to
through the plexiglass out onto the place drive it today.” Rick burps while he talks, as
where he grew up. That ice was where he if the souls of devoured corn dogs are flying
up to escape. “Keegan’s working his dad’s

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Revista Literária Adelaide

fields today and Sex Ed said he’s going to Burnsy shakes his head and feels the
St. Paul tonight for some internet date or heat simmering inside him again. He flips
somethin’. I’d try on my own but I’m afraid through his wallet and pins six ones on the
I’ll kill myself climbing up there.” counter.

“Gonna have rough ice, I guess. Size five.” “Or you could just drive that Zam for me,
Burnsy. Call it even.”
“Burnsy. Can you drive it for me? Just for
today.” Burnsy wants to tell Rick to drive that
Zam right up his own ass. But he looks
Burnsy pauses just long enough to see down at the ba ered size five figure skates
himself driving the Zamboni. When he was and thinks of Jakey. He grabs the ta ered
twenty, his long hair flowing from beneath white leather things and walks back to the
his hat, he drove the Zam like a god thun- party.
dering over on a cloud above Mount Olym-
pus. He first saw Stacey from that Zamboni When Burnsy gets back, Jakey is on the
driver’s chair. ground in the far corner of the room, his
knees tucked under his arms and his head
But today, he sees himself driving it as down on his forearms. As Burnsy approach-
an indentured servant, forced to clean the es him he sees popped balloons li ered
ice for a gaggle of rambunc ous heathen around him, the wreckage from an out-
children, their parents reveling in his servi- numbered a ack.
tude, and Jakey, struggling for a moment to
shine, berated by the op cs of his worth- “Hey bud, you wanna put your skates on?”
less father cleaning the ice for those brats
to slide on, frolic, and eat. “I wanna go home.” He’s crying again and
from the sides of my eyes I can see the cor-
“Nope. Sorry, Rick.” rupt faces of the children around us, stolen
glee pilfered from an innocent, his sensi ve
“Look, Burnsy. I can pay you,” Rick says. son. He wants to roar. He wants to flip ta-
Burnsy’s eyes shi s at the words and he’s bles and smash sheetcake into children’s
angry at himself for giving the world a clue faces. But he doesn’t. He picks up his son
at his terrible hand. “I know we didn’t part and carries him to the door.
on great terms, but I trust you. I could really
use the help, Burnsy.” He sees the smirk on Jordan’s dad’s face
as they pass. Burnsy tries to hold back the
“Size five. Please.” hot blood pulsing through him.

Rick hobbles along the shelves of old “What the hell?” Burnsy says, barking on
skates and brings back the most ba ered his way out the party room door.
pair of size five figure skates he can wrap
his wrinkled talons around. “Oh, hey, they’re just havin fun, Kev.”
Burnsy’s eyes narrow on him. “You know?
“That’s six bucks.” Rick says. Boys will be boys.”

“I thought it was three.” If he could think faster he’d say some-
thing he would regret, and if Jakey wasn’t
“Times have changed. Money don’t grow in his arms, he’d get two to five years for
on trees. If you’re short, your wife could assault.
probably pay.”

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

Once they are clear of the room, Burnsy “You see, Jakey, the Zamboni works by
sets Jakey down and wipes away the salty shaving off that top layer of ice. Then you
trails along his face. Jakey turns his head smooth out a layer of warm water on top,
away from his father. Burnsy feels like he’s warm water that comes from this li le tank
lost him. He tries to think of some las ng right here. Now that makes the ice smooth
advice to give, some perfect metaphor that again, covers up all those cuts and scars
will help his son turn out to be a be er per- that build up.”
son than he is. Nothing comes.
Burnsy jumps down and looks around
As he kneels in front of his boy, inches the corners of the garage to see if anyone
from the ice that raised him, he opens his might be watching.
mouth and speaks the only truth he knows.
“Just a li le warm liquid smooths it all
“Jakey, I’m probably supposed to tell you over. See, what I was thinking was, that
to turn the other cheek or tell you to be warm liquid doesn’t have to come from
the bigger person or something like that. that hose. It’s already pre y full of warm
But I’ve honestly got no clue what any of water as it is. We just need to top it off with
that even means.” Burnsy looks back. He some kind of warm liquid. Any old warm
sees the other kids. Just boys, children. To- liquid would probably do it. Hope you had
morrow they’ll be high schoolers. And then plenty to drink.” Burnsy winks at his son.
men. Soon they’ll be coffee breath bigshots. “Now, I’m going to go look back there by
Burnsy looks back at his son. that chem shelf, and if while I’m over there
you figure out where to find some warm
“Fuck all that, Jakey. Fuck that. Get even.” liquid, you feel free to just drain it all in to
that Zamboni water tank, okay?”
Jakey blinks at Burnsy wai ng for some
advice that Burnsy doesn’t have. The words connect and Burnsy can see
for the first me in weeks some fragment
“Me? I don’t know how to do that,” Jakey of joy peel over Jakey’s face. Burnsy walks
says, his lip flu ers as he whines too loud. around the corner and a er pretending to
Jakey looks like he might burst into tears look around for a moment, hears the pat-
again at any moment. Burnsy has never tering of a lengthy trickle falling into the
known how or when to do the right thing. Zamboni tank.
But he knows how to fight back.
When Jakey is done he calls out to Burn-
“You go a pee at all?” sy “It’s all filled up now, Dad.” Jakey laughs
a li le.
“Um, a li le, I guess.”
Burnsy climbs up the steel ladder along
“Perfect. Go to the water fountain and the side of the Zamboni and plops into the
keep drinking.” familiar black leather seat. He has Jakey
stand beside him as he revs the motor,
“Where are you going?” shi s into reverse and li s the rear auger.
They bump up in the air and bounce when
“Trading in these shi y skates for some the Zam clears the rink rim. Burnsy shi s to
Zamboni keys.” drive and drops the auger. They edge for-
ward on the ice and Jakey’s eyes gleam, an-
Ten minutes later, Burnsy and Jakey are
in the Zamboni garage and Burnsy is prep-
ping Rick’s old Zam and providing a lesson.

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Revista Literária Adelaide

cipa ng what his young mind has pieced doors, peering through the plexiglass as
together what comes next. Jakey nears them.

“You know, Jakey, your old man used to “Push this bu on here, bud. Do the hon-
live out on this ice. Grew up here. Worked ors.” Burnsy winks and Jakey rears back a
here a lot too.” As they reached the first bri le right arm and whips it down on the
corner of the rink, he cranked the wheel to orange bu on. The warm wash water be-
the right with ease, edging the curve per- gins to flow down on the ice. The water
fectly. “I’ve seen a lot of kids skate here. I that Jakey helped top off.
can spot the types. Those kids?” He points
up to the deviants from Jordan’s birthday As Jakey leans into Burnsy, the rear auger
party swarming by the ice rink door. “Ice beneath them cuts and shaves off the old
eaters for sure.” Jakey puts his hand to his scars of the ice and behind it, lays down a
mouth, covering the laugh. “Yep, those new, ever-so-faint yellow, layer of mostly wa-
boys will shave up this fresh ice with their ter, smoothing out the wounds that lay on the
hockey stops and t-stops. They’ll throw it surface. It may only last for a short while, but
at each other. They’ll melt it in their hands. it’s smooth for this one moment. The Zam-
And they’ll definitely eat it.” boni rolls up to and past the group of boys
gawking up at Jakey from the other side of
Hugging the boards, Burnsy and Jakey the rink boards. Jakey wraps his arm around
roll along, the ar ficial cold wind in their Burnsy and they look back at the liquid trail-
hair, a captain and his first mate, pirates ing onto the ice in front of the boys, and their
sailing into adventure. They could see the parents. For that one moment, they don’t
writhing huddle of boys lined up at the rink worry about what direc on they’re heading.

About the Author:

Joe Miller lives in a stale cubicle where he ferments stories in his mind and cra brews fic on.
He writes noiselessly in the wee, dark hours of the morning before his infant son wakes up.
His work has appeared in Drunk Monkeys, Eunoia Review, Five on the Fi h, and others.

47

DOWNTOWN WALDOS

by Mark Massaro

Riley, my pot-dealers girlfriend, arched ing s ck. I met him through a mutual friend,
her body over the enormous yoga ball in Rabbit, who I went to high school with. His
front of my while I sat on their couch as he real name is Rahib, but everyone called him
weighed out quarter bags on a digital scale. Rabbit. I asked Rabbit if he knew anyone
A small ta oo of a Gemini symbol peaked to get pot from, because my guy was out
out from her hip and a live Rusted Root of town, and within an hour, Cambridge
album shook the walls while Riley’s yoga showed up at my work, with Riley peering
DVD played on mute. She breathed in slow- from behind him.
ly, and out slowly. Piles of unfolded laundry
sat in most chairs, one with an ashtray on “You Jack?” he asked.
top, and the smell of wet dog soaked the air.
They le me alone earlier and I grabbed a “Yup, you Rabbit’s buddy?”
nugget from the table and let it fall into my
cargo short; it wouldn’t be no ced missing. “Yup.”
My eyelids were quite heavy, but my eyes
remained solely focused on Riley. “Good to meet you,” I said. His long
brown curls were tucked behind his ears
Riley and Cambridge, “like the city,” he’d and he had a Dr. Phil t-shirt on. I worked
say, had been together for two years. Upon at a restaurant chain, that I prefer not to
their first mee ng, she invited him to live name at this me, as a server. The manag-
with her because he had just go en out er was a drunk and would come and go as
of rehab and didn’t want to move back in she pleased so we took full advantage of
with his father and step-mother. They were the lack of a en on on us. Most of us stole
decent people, I assumed, but it was clear from the register by ringing up the order
that they were in that weird phrase that fif- and hi ng “No Sale.” Then we’d give the
ty-year-olds go through: suddenly dancing change and the customer would leave. It
at clubs, drinking, and relentlessly flir ng. was a group effort and we’d share the nights
Apparently, years ago, Cambridge got deep earnings. We’d drink and smoke bowls in
into painkillers, and not in the fun way. He the walk-in, even have sex, depending on
got arrested and made a deal to go to a who you were working with that shi . It
rebab facility in Florida, coming back with was a common rule to not date someone
long-hair and a Buddhist. He preferred to that you worked with, but we seemed to
wear his bathrobe and used a carved walk- operate on the excep on to that rule all of
the me. And that led to a lot of workplace
drama.

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