Jefferson and West

A young journalist who is down on luck with love discovers that his perfect world exists in a nonexistent reality...his dreams. Through many nights of dreaming of the perfect girl and waking up to a meaningless world, he finally runs into a person on the

 

            Jefferson and West

 

“Don’t you remember? We crossed paths along the corner of Jefferson and West Street. I was reading the newspaper, well, my article.” Tobias Forge is lying, helpless in his bed.

            “I do. You tripped on my guitar case. You’re so cute. Do you want a glass of water? Your voice seems tired.” Ezra Forge sits along his side, making sure that the tears inside of her are held back inside of her dilated sockets.

            “My stories sucked, you know.” Tobias struggles with each word, now.

            “I loved them.” Ezra smiles for him.

            “You don’t have to do that.”

            “Do what?”

            “Pretend that I was amazing.”

            “Are…”

            “Everything’s better when I sleep, anyhow. You were the only thing I enjoyed about reality. I want you to have something.” Tobias grabs Ezra’s hand and places it over his eyes. “Take these.” He says.

            “Take what? Your eyes?” She is confused.

            “I’m dying. You need to take these.”

            “Take what?” She feels his eyes close over top of the palm of her hand.

            “My dreams.” He uses his last breath.

 

 

            There is no way of telling this story without realizing the obvious fate of love. It seems to be a repetitive conclusion that love will conquer all, but not in all souls does this theory exist. There are certain binds and rules that can either be formed or broken in the process of love. The only thing to know and understand is that it is very unpredictable. You alone cannot control love. You were never meant to be, nor chosen for the privilege. Take this story alone as a guide to knowing that life and love do not exist together. They are two elements of the nucleus of the world that are not meant to ever determine the fate of the other. Love finds everyone somehow, don’t you think? Well, see for yourself.

 

            This story, this life, begins with the hope of a writer. His name is Tobias Forge. He is a quiet, outspoken individual. His work is described as being dull at best, and his mind is always floating around with the aftermath of all of his previous relationships. He lives each day in dying thought of knowing that his ideal life exists inside of the dreams that he concocts inside of his mind. There is hope yet for Tobias.

            He writes for the Boston Herald. The editor is a maniacal creep that thrives each morning to ensure that the current issue is better than the last. Tobias walks in every morning and grabs a small cup of coffee. He smiles at the secretary, Liza, and politely waves. “He’s so sweet,” she thinks. He goes down the hall three doors, and on the left stands the scariest one yet; the one with the word in big bold letters: EDITOR. This is the point where reality begins its horrible cycle for Tobias.

            “You got my story, Forge?” His editor stares him deep into both eyes.

            “Right here. I think you’ll really enjoy this one.” His voice cracks slightly. The editor opens the creased manila envelope and begins reading.

            “Love…lost…broken…heart…one day…until then…” He pauses and looks at Tobias. “What are you doing? What are you trying to prove?”

            “What do you mean?”

            “It’s all about losing someone and being depressed. It’s no good for the paper, son. Why can’t you take a top story or…how about sports? You like sports, no?” Tobias looks at him confused.

            “These are good stories, sir. I know that they are.”

            “Not for my paper. Alright, back of the paper behind the obituaries again. That’s the best that I can do. You’re lucky I married your sister. Oh, and you didn’t title it yet either.” He puts the papers back into the envelope and hands it back to Tobias.

            “Lost Love.” Tobias says confidently.

            “Figures.” The editor rolls his eyes. “Take it to Liza, she’ll pay you.” Tobias gets up and begins to walk out the door. “Oh, and another thing.”

            “Yeah?”

            “Sports next time…ok?”

            “Right…” He walks away, already dreading his next story.

 

            Three blocks away, a woman sits on the corner of the street playing sweet songs and singing a beautiful voice with wretched lyrics. She moved to Boston from Montana, trying to get her feet into the door of a successful music business. Each morning she sets herself up on this corner…Jefferson and West. Each businessman and woman passes by with mixed emotions to her performances. Some toss her a handful of loose change and others dread the split second in which they pass her by, thinking that she’ll hound them for money. She plays her guitar with pride and comfort and believes in her ability. Three blocks away, a man believes in his own ability as well.

            On the way home, after earning his living for at least a couple days, Tobias picks up a newspaper from the day earlier. His article sits again in the back of the newspaper, behind the five-page write up of the former Mayor’s death. No one cares about Tobias. No one wants to read about a seven-year-old kid developing his first crush and losing it within two weeks. He thinks, maybe, that this time his article is going to be different. He enters the deli on the corner and sits at the first table he can find. Behind him is a young couple, reading and discussing the newspaper.

            “Listen to this, hun. This guy’s talking about being in love when he was seven.”

            “Oh lord. Is that the guy who always talks about getting dumped? He’s sad.”

            “Tobias Forge. Never heard of him. Poor guy. Someone needs to tell him that no one cares.” Tobias throws his paper inside of the trashcan next to his table. The waiter, a good friend of his, comes over to him.

            “What can I get you today, Toby?”

            “Suddenly not hungry man.” He gets up and walks out of the deli.

            As Tobias walks down the street, he approaches the girl playing songs and singing on the corner. “Oh great. What is this,” he thinks. He passes by, sinking in some of her lyrics. “That was awful,” he says to himself.

            Love is not for everyone. There is a sacred message that declares love is patient and kind. In Tobias’ eyes, love seeks no remorse and never answers to him. It only seeks out his displeasure and finds new ways to vanquish his hopes and dreams. His dreams, however, are all that he has of the perfect love, the perfect life. He sees in his mind the girl he’s always searching for, and realizes that his mind falls asleep to her, but his heart does all of the dreaming. The only question to Tobias is: “When will she enter reality?”

 

            Tobias sits at his desk in the corner of an all but empty room. The supporting cast of an empty fish bowl, torn couch, and a bag of salt and vinegar chips do not make his environment any more joyous. He works on his next story, contemplating the idea of sports in his mind. His editor is crazy, he thinks, to think that Tobias can write anything else beyond love. He is meant to write about love! He is here to give his message about it. The only problem is that Tobias himself does not understand the hidden message behind it. Nonetheless, he sits at his desk, digging out the last solemn memory of love that he can think of. And this time, even he says to himself… “This is pathetic.” Then, he turns off the light at his desk and crawls into bed, where within minutes his perfect world exists.

            Three blocks over, Ezra sits inside of an all night coffee shop, recording words to incorporate into lyrics. The only person working the place walks over to her and says, “Miss, if you don’t order anything you’re going to need to leave soon. I’m sorry.”

            “A glass of water, please.” Ezra looks at him with a desperate face and the waiter, knowing that no one else will even come in for the night, complies and gives her a free glass of water. He walks away and she remains the only person sitting inside of this coffee shop. Each strand of ink that she lets go onto her paper is a beginning work of another song with wonderful sound and horrible lyrics. She’s a lovely girl with a lovely voice, but doesn’t even know that her words are harmful and senseless to the mind of her listeners. Knowing she is the only person in the shop, she gets up and walks over to the counter.

            “Hey, can I ask you something?” She says to the man behind the counter.

            “No more water, ma’am. I’m sorry.”

            “No, no. Can you read this?” She hands him a napkin filled with words. He takes it and looks at it for a brief moment.

            “Do you sing well?” He says.

            “I like to think so…would you like to hear?”

            “No…I’ll trust that the voice is better than the words.” He hands the napkin back to her. She walks back to her table and grabs her guitar, preparing for the next morning of songs on the corner.

            Meanwhile, Tobias is sitting by a fire with the girl who has always loved him. They drink warm hot chocolate and laugh and smile with one another. He reads her a poem and she kisses him softly on his cheek. She runs her fingers through his hair as they lay with each other, by the fire, knowing that each moment is precious and the rest of life will be significant with each other. Then, he scoops his hand under her head and leans in to kiss her. As his lips draw nearer, her face begins to blur, and the crackling sound of the wood inside of the fire turns into a ferocious buzzing within his ears. He opens his eyes as the sun pokes through the holes in his cheaply fabricated curtains. Daylight is here and his dream is over. He’s lost another girl. Reality has taken over.

            Tobias gets out of bed and puts on his best shirt and tie. He sulks down the stairs and out into the streets. Into this lousy world he goes, hating everything about it and despising all of the lovers that walk by. Inside of his mind he places some kind of hex on everyone that is happy and wishes some type of embarrassing act on them in public. He gets to Jefferson and West, and there again is the girl with her guitar. She isn’t playing, but rather sitting on the corner, reading a newspaper. There isn’t anyone else on the street, so perhaps she is saving her strength for better business later on in the day. Tobias walks by, anticipating a request for money. She isn’t dirty though, like the usual street dwellers. In fact, she is very beautiful.

            “Nice day today.” She says to Tobias as he walks by.

            “Yes it is.” He notices the page of the paper she is on: the last page.

            “Anything…good?” He says to her.

            “Just the usual politics, but then they put this sweet man’s articles all the way in the back of the paper. Shame, really. They’re so warming. It makes me feel like a jerk actually, thinking about all the times I ever let a boy down.” She looks up at him.

            “Ah, yes. Well, at least you noticed. I’m sure he’s a good man.” He tries to walk away because his face is beginning to beam with joy over the fact that someone actually enjoys one of his articles.

            “He’s a great writer too. He’s so real. This is actually the only reason I read this newspaper. I hate everything else in it. Oh well, you have a good day sir.”

            “Oh trust me. I will.” Tobias walks away, knowing that the whole world isn’t just fickle and so critical of him.

            As the day progresses into afternoon, Ezra takes her guitar and stands on the corner, hoping to make some money with the song that she wrote the night before in the coffee shop. People pass by, exchanging looks at each other without putting money into the empty guitar case on the ground. “She’s got a sweet voice, but did you understand those words,” They say. They say that she is desperate, and doesn’t have a home. They say that she has no business singing. They even mistake her for a prostitute at times. She hears it all, and she still goes to that corner every day and sings her songs.

            Tobias walks into the Editor’s office again. It is the same routine as always. His throat swells and his stomach feels like an atom bomb eruption. As he opens the door and sits in the chair in front of the editor’s desk, he notices the same day’s newspaper sitting in the chair next to him.

            “Ok. How did your sports story go?” He looks at Tobias with great intrigue.

            “Well, about that.”

            “Oh, Lord. Please tell me you didn’t do this again…” He throws his hands up in the air in disgust. Then he reaches his hand out and motions for Tobias to hand over his article.

            “Give it to me. Show me the depression inside of this envelope.” Tobias hands over the envelope to the editor.

            “I think I really have it this time. It might not be what you were looking for, but…”

            “Toby, people don’t want to read about your sad love life. Please, I’m begging you…write about sports or something. You write real well. This just isn’t what people want to read about. I’m sorry, I can’t pay you for this anymore.” He hands Tobias the envelope and Tobias walks out of the room. He passes the secretary without picking up his pay. She shakes her head in pity as he leaves the building.

            Three blocks over, an ambulance sits on the corner of Jefferson and West. Tobias walks down the street, noticing the fluorescent lights from a few blocks away. He gets closer, and notices the guitar case lying on the ground without the beautiful girl that it belonged to. He walks over to the newsstand sitting close to the corner and looks to the old man that is running it.

            “What’s going on?” He tilts his head and faces the crowd surrounding the ambulance.

            “Some girl passed out. Nothin major. That singing girl, you know?”

            “Yeah…Where are they taking her?”

            “I don’t know. You gonna buy anything here?”

            “Yeah, sure.” Tobias picks up the Boston Herald. He hands it to the vender at the newsstand and pays him. The paramedics place her inside the ambulance and he hears them yell:

            “Alright, we’re taking her to Mercy over on Seventeenth Street. Let’s go.” They get into the ambulance and drive away. Tobias looks at the corner. Her guitar case sits alone without her beautiful voice. He walks over and picks up the case. Her name is inscribed on the red felt piece on the inside.

            Tobias walks down the street to the deli. He orders his usual sandwich, and asks for an extra this time. He places it into his bag next to his newspaper and leaves. At the hospital, Ezra arrives, knowing little about where she is and why her guitar is not by her side. The paramedics wheel her in as the doctor approaches them.

            “Alright, what do we got here?”

            “No name…got her off the street. She was passed out. A newsstand worker called her in.”

            “Ma’am. What is your name?”

            “Where’s my guitar?” The medics look at the doctor in just as much confusion as he is in.

            “What guitar, miss? What is your name?”

            “Ezra. Where is it? Where is it?”

            “Ok, calm down. Take her to room fourteen.” The medics wheel her down the hall and set her up inside of her own room.

            After Tobias leaves the deli, he gets into a cab and goes to Mercy Hospital. He enters the building and approaches the nurse.

            “May I help you?”

            “Yeah, I was looking for someone…I’m not real sure where she is.”

            “What is the name?”

            “Oh. One second. She was just brought in.” He looks at her with a great sense of being unsure of himself. He opens the guitar case. “Ezra Thompson, please.”

            “Ok. She’s down the hall. Room fourteen, sir.”

            “Thank you, miss.” Tobias walks down the hall. His legs begin to shiver and his stomach has the same feeling that it did back when he claimed his first kiss in the seventh grade. He feels like a kid again. When he comes to the door, he grips it firmly with his hand and stands still for a moment. It appears almost as if he is saying a silent prayer to himself. The numbers look like blurry puzzle pieces that he could never fit into place if he ever wanted to. He turns the knob and walks inside.

           

            “Hello. Do you remember who I am?”

“We met on the streets, I assume.”

“Yes, you were reading my…I mean, those sad articles.” He smiles.

“Oh, yeah. How do you do, stranger?” She fights to bring out a smile.

“I’m fine. What happened to you, miss?”

“Just got a little light-headed that’s all. I didn’t even get to perform today, either. I had a real good song too.”

“Light-headed? Hm. Well, I brought you something.” He reaches into his bag and pulls out a smaller bag from the deli. Inside of it is a sandwich.

“I’m fine, really. Not supposed to take things from strangers either.” She looks at him with a slight grin.

“You’re right, what was I thinking?” He puts the sandwich back into the bag. “You said you had written a song? May I see it?” She leans over to the stand by her bed and grabs a small napkin. She hands it to him and he reads it.

“You don’t have to say anything. I know it’s terrible. The man in the coffee shop even said so.”

“Oh no, its…well, it has real potential.” He tries to look at her with confidence. “Well anyhow, I’d better go. I’m sorry if I disturbed your rest.” He gets up and walks to the door. “Oh, and don’t worry about your critics. I know how they can be. I’m Tobias by the way. Tobias Forge.”

Ezra looks at him and smiles. “I’m Ezra. Very nice to meet you.” Tobias begins to walk away. “Oh one thing, Mr. Forge.”

“Yes?”

“Leave the sandwich.” He smiles, pulls the sandwich out of his bag, places it on to the end of her bed, and walks away.

“What a sweet, sad man,” she thinks. She props her pillow on her bed and reads back over her lyrics on her small napkin. There’s hope for her yet.

 

            Tobias closes his eyes to a world of the most pristine values and cherished riches he could have ever asked for. His life is set up with the perfect woman and the perfect family. His job is to be the most respected writer in the business, and he is. He is the dominant voice in all of his lectures and never looks back on anything in his past. In this dream there is no past. There is nothing to lurk in his memory and beat down his brain. No regrets, no envy. There’s no such thing as a failed opportunity, and karma never wreaks havoc on his future. That is because there is future either. He’s living in the present and only taking advantage of what is in front of him. He has everything that he ever asked God for. He gets home from work and has dinner with his family in his big beautiful house. He kisses his children goodnight and goes to bed with his wonderful wife. When he turns over to kiss his wife before he falls asleep, he sees the vision of an empty room and a curtain crowded with sunlight. He is alone again. Her figure is gone. The kids are not there anymore, either. A voice jumps out to him. “Good morning, Boston! It’s 7:00 A.M. and it’s gonna be a beautiful one today!” He slams his fist on the alarm clock. “Damn you, reality. Damn you,” he thinks.

            He walks down the stairs of his apartment and scoops up the newspaper sitting by his mailbox. He flips through. There is nothing behind the obituaries. He goes to the sports section and searches for a time for the next Red Sox game. Failed love has failed him too many times. Once he finds what he is looking for, he takes the paper and throws it in the trash. He’s going to the baseball game.

            Today, the hospital is letting Ezra out. The only piece of advice that the doctor gives her is to actually eat some food. She goes to her usual place on Jefferson and West, knowing that her guitar is still missing. She sits down, not knowing what to do now. The man working the newsstand looks up at her and yells, “I know where it is!” She lifts her head off of her knees and walks over to him.

            “You know where what is?’

            “Your guitar.” He smiles.

            “You do? Where?”

            “Some young man picked it up and put it back into the case. He took it away. He said he knew you.” She shook her head and laughed.

            “And how would you describe him?”

            “I don’t know…young. He asked where you were being taken the other day. I told him, only if he bought a newspaper.”

            “Ah, I see. And which paper did he buy?”

            “The Herald. You know, the one with the…”

            “Sweet sad articles.”

            “If you say so. Do you know who I am talking about then?”

            “Yes. Thank you.” She sits back down on the corner of Jefferson and West.

            “Well hey! Aren’t you gonna go get your guitar?”

            “I don’t have to,” she says. “He’ll bring it to me.”

           

            As Tobias walks his way to the baseball game, he notices Ezra sitting alone on her street corner. He approaches her, thinking of every word he is going to say along the way.

            “Hey, I didn’t hear a sweet voice on my way to the corner.”

            “Well, I can’t do it without my guitar.”

            “Oh, your guitar, eh?”

            “Yeah, I wonder what happened to it…” She smiles at him.

            “I don’t know. Didn’t anyone pick it up for you?”

            “I guess not.”

            “I might know something about where it is. Maybe.”

            “Oh yeah? And what would I need to do to get it out of you?”

            “Let me write an article about you.”

            “Oh…I don’t know. I’m not very interesting.”

            “Please? I can’t promise anything in front of the obituaries, but it might get your foot in the door for that huge singing career your looking for.” He smiles at her, trying to show her that he isn’t just putting on some type of impression of a genuinely sweet man.

            “Ok. But on one condition!”

            “Anything.”

            “Help me write a song.” He leans down and shakes her hand gently.

            “Deal. Call me sometime so that we can get together and work on that.” He hands her a small business card with his cell number on it.

            “Where you headed in such a hurry?”

            “I’m off to the Sox game. I gotta write my next article on sports.” He shrugs his shoulders.

            “Aw. No more sweet articles?”

            “Nope- unless my fan club grows to more than just one. You can always stop by my apartment, you know. I got a real nice guitar sitting in a real nice case that you may be interested in.” He winks at her harmlessly.

            “I knew it. And will there be sandwiches?”

            “Of course!” He smiles.

            “I’ll come by tomorrow. Where is it?”

            “Tell you what…”

            “What?”

            “Do you like baseball? I conveniently have two tickets.”           

            “Oh, well, there isn’t much baseball in Montana.” She laughs. “But I guess I could handle it. You’re the only friend I’ve made up here, you know, Mr. Forge.

            “Well then. If you’re a friend, you have to call me Toby. All of my friends do.”

            “Toby…”

            “Come to the game with me. We can go to my place after and work on a song and an article. I don’t bite, I promise.”

            “Ok. It’s better than the coffee shop guy hounding me to buy coffee anyhow.” She smiles.

            When the game ends, Tobias and Ezra walk back toward his apartment, discussing their lives up to this point.

            “I’ve been writing since I was five,” Tobias says. “Everyone used to tell me how good I was at it. I never thought my life could influence my writing so much.”

            “When I was seven, my mom bought me my first guitar. I wanted to work the farm with my dad. I wanted to ride the horses. But she gave me the guitar, and she made sure I played it every day.”

            “I’ve heard you play…you’re very good.”

            “It’s not the playing that gives people the earache.  It’s my words. I guess they don’t ever make real good sense.”

            “We’ll change that.”

            When they get to the doorstep of Tobias’ apartment, Ezra pauses before they step inside and grabs Tobias’ hand.

            “I want to thank you.”

            “For what?”

            “When I left home, I wasn’t so sure that I would be able to do this. I was so alone until you came to the hospital the other day. Thank you…friend.” They both smile.

            “I should be thanking you. You’re the only person that ever makes sense in this stupid world. Come on, let’s go write you a hit song!” They go inside.

            That night, Tobias and Ezra collaborate to invent some of the sweetest words and place them into the melodious sounds of her guitar. For the first time, they both experience the thought of knowing that the world is more than just one person. It is a miracle perhaps that Tobias would have ever take interest in a girl off of the streets, but the true inspiration comes from within their own gifts.

            It is perhaps the hidden reassurance that Ezra gives to Tobias, knowing that they are only friends, but future lovers at the same time. Within each smile, he sees the glory of his dreams unraveling in the present moment, knowing that this is meant to exist in the two other tenses as well. She has a movement from within her that shows him her true intentions of never letting him go. It is only a matter of understanding to what degree she will keep him in. He knows that the only moments worth living in reality are the ones that are kept with her. He is not dreaming.

            As they finish their work that evening, Tobias recognizes the tired look within Ezra’s eyes and poses the curious question that he has had all evening:

            “Where will you stay?”

            “I…don’t know. I usually go to the all night coffee place, and write new songs there. I hardly get to sleep anymore.”

            “That’s ridiculous …plus you have your song for tomorrow…I have a couch…”

            “You’d let me stay on the couch?”

            “No way. I’d let you stay in the bed. I get the couch.” He smiles.

            “Ok, yeah. Are you sure though?”

            “I insist.” He directs her to his bedroom. He grabs a pillow and a blanket and goes to his couch. His dream will be influential.

            He closes his eyes to the thought of knowing that reality is not as bad as it was the day before. He falls asleep thinking that in the room next to him is a very unique individual. She makes him laugh. She makes him think about the ways of life and how he is able to react to it. In his dream he sees his wife, again. They meet somewhere inside of the park several blocks over from their beautiful four-story house. They have a dog and two beautiful children. In his dream he sees the motions but cannot tell what the face comes out to be. In his dream they laugh and smile and kiss their children. They get a blanket out from the car and unfold it into the grass. Then, something happens that strikes his boundaries between dreams and reality. His wife gets out a beautiful guitar. This is the same woman he’s always fallen asleep to. This is the girl in his dreams. She sings a song. Not just any song. Tobias wrote this song. He beams with a smile and opens his eyes.

            “Good morning! I decided to wake up early and make you some breakfast since you did after all give me the bed.” Ezra stands in front of him, by the kitchen.

            “You were in my dream,” Tobias says. “A beautiful dream.”