Eddie

A Story by Mike Santoria

The following is the first of three short fiction stories that revolve around a man named Eddie, and his journey discovering himself.

Michael Santoria

Eddie

I

    “Then why don’t you just leave?” Alana screamed.
    It was unlike herself to ever raise tone at Edward, whom she called Eddie. The two, Alana and Eddie, have been together since they met on vacation three years prior.
Eddie was on business and Alana needed to get away from the city.
One night both Eddie and Alana stood inside the moving cubical. As the cubical rushed down Eddie commented on the glimmer of Alana’s blue eyes, and the rest was history.
During their three years together things moved rapid and lustful. Quickly, the two fell completely in love and Eddie was transferred to Chicago where he could be closer to his believed sole mate.
Almost in chronological order the two fought, made up, and ordered take out as the years continued. They were trapped without knowledge in a vicious cycle of something called love.
Today, however, was extraordinarily different. Eddie walked through the brown coded doors of the flat, took off his coat, grabbed a beer, sat down in front of the television and heard Alana on the phone as she walked in the living room.
“Who were you on the phone with?” Eddie asked.
“My mother,” Alana replied.
The flat got quiet and eery. Eddie sipped upon his beverage and sighed as he reclined the leather chair.
“You’re an old man.” Alana said.
He did not care for her petty remarks, for he was busy in thought from a long day of work. So busy in thought, indeed, he could not construct understanding responses to continue conversing with Alana.
“I think I have to go.” Eddie said motionless.
He did not flinch at standing up, nor make a move towards the door, he just sat there after the brash statement.
The room was dark, limited lamp lighting made for a silhouette contrast that the two sat inside.
“What? Where?” Alana asked.
“I don’t know. I just have to go.” Eddie said.
This was unlike anything Eddie has ever said or done to Alana. There was no reason for the words, about to be turned into action, that Eddie spoke off to have ever been conjured up. He was just simply reacting to his ideas.
Alana was confused, rightfully so, incredibly confused by which words Eddie spoke to her. Given at how she was taken off guard by such level of meaning that this random act of stung on words produced, she became uneasy and mildly angry.
“Eddie shut up.” Alana said. “Then why don’t you just leave.”
Eddie got up and looked Alana directly in the eyes, her bright blue eyes. He looked carefully, making sure this was the right decision, and said only six words as he walked out the door.
“This will all make sense soon.” Eddie finished.

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II
And so Eddie began to walk. Two blocks east of his apartment he stopped and turned around. He thought about everything one more time, exactly what he was leaving behind.
He walked past the CVS across the street where he and Alana once got lost inside looking for a bag of sour skittles. Though he didn’t look inside or stop anymore, he just kept walking.
Along the beach now, he continued moving forward, listening as the water made small waves that crashed into each other, cohesively surfacing the golden sand his feet walked on top of. The way the body of water moved, so gentle, so peaceful to the human ear, it forced Eddie to stop.
He sat along the lining where the smooth waves eased onto the millions of grains of sand. He thought.
Inside the mind of Edward Staughtal there was a pure sign forming.
In high school, nearly a decade ago, he took a school trip to a writers workshop at a nearby community college. His creative writing teacher thought it would be best to understand what goes on during these workshops, and what skills as a writer you can hone by making just small adjustments. Inside the workshop, one of the key note speakers said something that forever stuck with Eddie.
“Listen closely everyone in this room.” Dr. Richards said.
Dr. Richards was profound in writing short fiction and believed in receiving experience stories from not only the writer but everyone living and thinking.
It was a large task at hand, but to Dr. Richards it very well made sense. The idea to Dr. Richards is that there are two sides to every situation, making for an easier solution for those who tend to lack understanding regarding one side of an issue.
He thought on one specific afternoon, where the sky shined with absolute light and had no bundled of condensation in sight, that every single person has a right to be respectfully opinionated and understood in someway.
This was very important and will continue to be just that as Eddie progresses.
“Everybody has a story.” Richards said.
This idea constructed Eddie at every perspective situation he encountered growing up to simply hear everyone’s side.
It hit Eddie on the beach that night of what he must now do with his waking life. It began to make sense why he left his apartment and his future earlier that night.
Something from inside of him, the same something that led him out the door of his flat, told him to simply continue walking and remember; everyone has a story.
Eddie got up and walked into the endless night without a final destination in mind.

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III
Birds woke Eddie the next morning, followed by a 1970’s motel alarm clock. He yawned loudly and stretched towards the snooze option that was on top of the obnoxious, ringing, machine.
He pulled out a white and gold rectangular box, then lit a cigarette. Almost immediately after his first inhale he rushed his head back on the cold pillow and closed his eyes.
It was rough getting out of the dirty motel bed for Eddie that day, just like most days.
Doctors called him depressed, Alana called him lazy, and his parents called him out for seeking attention.
He was really just Eddie.
The clock read eight - thirty and Eddie finished his cigarette. He made time for his morning rituals and checked out of the room.
He was somewhere east, that's all he knew of his bearings.
Eddie had nothing planned for the day besides walking. South. Eddie wanted to go south.
Days went by of this routine, weeks, then months, leading into years of sleeping in motel’s, eating at local diners, and walking.
Eddie never thought once of stopping, something inside of him would not leave. It was the same something he felt from the night by the water that prohibited his departure. He thought of Alana and everything he left behind that specific night two years ago, but with conquering sales for the past three years, before the walking began, Eddie was not a poor man.
He bought clothes and necessary things that he thought would help him continue moving forward. Money was not an issue and Eddie was well aware of that. Money was just a variable that fed the purpose of leaving, along with the more internal purposes that led to his ultimate decision.
On a long dirt road that was believed to lead to nowhere a sign appeared and Eddie read it aloud to himself.
“Welcome to Arkansas, the nature state, home of Bill Clinton.”
And in his worst Bill Clinton impersonation, thinking about what exactly the 90’s were, Eddie laughed to himself.
“I did not have sexual relations with that women.”
He thought about Alana at this point, but ended up walking past the Arkansas state limit anyway, and then focused on what he wanted to consume for lunch.
In bright red letters a diner named Susy’s, that was owned by a man named Frankie, offered creamed soup as a special, thus leading Eddie inside.
It was inside this diner where Eddie begins his ideal novel concept of writing on behalf of the people a man named Dr. Richards would read about, everyone.

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IV
“Two creams, two sugars, and please.” Eddie said.
The waitress smiled as she walked away from the corner booth.
Light shined in through the glass window, and the blinds had been rolled up to allow an ominous yellow glow inside.
At the counter, solidating in scrambled eggs and solemn, a man is reading today's Arktimes.
The yellow light reflects solely on the man and Eddie notices this after his first cup of coffee. Something about the man, his solemn, interested Eddie throughout the duration of his second cup.
Finally, it was time to engage in conversation with the illuminated, alone, man.
Slowly, Eddie stood up and began walking towards him. His heart was racing, palms began to be enriched with pure sweat, and Eddie did not know why.
“How’s it going, Edward Staughtal,” Eddie reached out his hand. “I’m a novelist, I guess you’d say; a writer. You’re sitting alone. I thought I’d ask you, maybe, a couple questions?”
His words were nothing like he planned to say on his way over to the counter. He sounded nervous to speak, and became uneasy after reaching a five foot distance from the man.
“What? You’re a writer?” The man asked. “And you want to ask me a couple questions, maybe?”
The sarcastic tone of the man pushed Eddie to rethink the decision he made of interviewing him.
“I’m sorry to bother you, I’m just writing a book about perspective and wanted to see your take on a various range of topics.” Eddie said.
Here, Eddie began to speak clear and efficient to the man. He regained power of the conversation and lead his statements to be more effective further on.
“Like what?” The man asked.
Now that Eddie has fully grabbed the attention of the subject, he began the interview by asking simple questions.
“Well. Red or Blue?” Eddie asked.
“I don’t vote.” The man responded.
“No, your favorite color.” Eddie said. “Alright, let me start this again. Where are you from, uh…. actually, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Scott.” He said.
“Hey! That’s my middle name, interesting. Well, Scott, where are you from?” Eddie asked.
He sat down next to Scott, feeling more comfortable than just moments prior. Another waitress behind the counter came by and asked only Eddie what he took in his coffee.
She didn’t bother asking Scott for a refill, as he had a cup of his own coffee stationed right in front of him. However, she didn’t even care to glance in his direction which made Eddie confused.
“Two creams, two sugars, and please.” Eddie responded quickly.
The waitress turned her back and walked towards the brewing station.
“So where are you from again?” Eddie repeated himself after the exit of the interrupting waitress.
“Originally from Florida. My dad got a job in Chicago when I was young and I only really remember the city as my childhood.” Scott said.
“Yeah? Where in Chicago? That’s where I grew up. DA BEARS.” Eddie chuckled.
“Northside. Are you really, though? Everyone I’ve met from there never did that terrible accent.” Scott said.
“I’m sorry. Yeah, Northside as well growing up.” Eddie said.
The counter grew silent in terms of Eddie’s bad joke. However, Scott laughed away the uncomfortableness Eddie created.
“Let me ask you a question now. Who would win in a fight, Dikta or a hurricane?” Scott asked.
Eddie laughed abruptly to the continuing of the infamous Saturday Night Live sketch.
“Exactly.” Eddie said. “Being from the same area and what not; in fact, I’m writing a perspective piece consulting a coming of age. You want to tell me a couple things about growing up for you?”
“Sure.” Scott said.
The lighting of the diner became instantly dark. Clouds rolled through to cover up sunlight from the window and stayed there for a prolonged period of time. The waitress brought forth another cup of coffee, just for Eddie, then walked away not to return. The two were virtually alone sitting at the counter, backs turned from the rest of the diner.
“I had a best friend, who I loved deeply growing up, named Rene.” Scott said.
Eddie was struck by this; for he had a friend also named Rene. Though the two never made themselves listed, Eddie always felt something different for her.
“Rene Capsoul?” Eddie asked, eerie.
“You knew her from the city?” Scott asked back.
“She was a friend." Eddie said. “What’d you say your name was again?”
Eddie began to get upset with his subject. His eyebrows froze in an upward motion as he thought how bizarre the conversation at hand was.
“Scott.” He said. “Look, I agree it’s an incredible coincidence, but it’s not impossible that two men from the same city knew the same girl. Lower your eyebrows, it’s freaking me out.”
It was an incredible coincidence as Scott had said. Two men in Arkansas, who grew up in the same area and befriended the same girl, meeting in Susy’s diner. Though, only one of them admitted love where love was deemed to be admitted.
“Do you want to talk about Rene?” Eddie laughed.
“No.” Scott said.
“Me either.” Eddie replied.
The two again just sat there, faced down in empty plates of former breakfast. This was the first time in his walking, waking life, where Eddie held an interesting conversation with another.
“Pretty weird I met you here.” Eddie said.
“It’s not that weird, it’s always good to see someone from where you came from.” Scott replied.
It was true. Eddie felt more comfortable, in a way, knowing that Scott came from the same place he did. He must have known about the city life as well as Eddie, and with that Eddie felt it would be pointless to speak on behalf of something the two both knew already.
“Again, the book is about perspective and a coming of age, did you watch movies as a kid?” Eddie asked.
“Yeah I watched movies as a kid.” Scott said. “Do you want to know what movie changed my life?”
This made him fall back into discomfort with Scott. Eddie did wish to know the answer to that question.
“How’d you know I was going to ask that?” Eddie asked.
Scott pointed down to a white piece of paper that was marked with red ink and had the question, what movie changed your life, scribbled on it.
“Oh.” Eddie said.
He felt shameful for answering a question with a question, but there was something about Scott and who he was that threw Eddie off.
“It’s crazy. We both had the same friend growing up, yet I never met you a day before today.” Eddie said. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“I agree, it is crazy. Maybe it was just timing. Maybe you weren’t suppose to know me when we both lived downtown or something. Maybe you weren’t suppose to know me until today, you know? Everything happens for a reason, man.” Scott said.
Scott was calm. He was well collected with his thoughts and sounded profound in his words. He showed curiosity with all the facts about both his and Eddie’s history, but he didn’t think much of it.
Eddie wished he could be as reasonable as Scott, but truly none of this made sense to him.
“Anyways,” Eddie said. “What movie did change your life?”
“Groundhog day came out when I was ten.” Scott said.
Scott was 29 now, and at this point Eddie was just a year younger at 28. Groundhog day with Bill Murray was a film Eddie, too, watched religiously because not only did Murray bring out true acting, the idea of continuously repeating a day sparked creativity inside Eddie for years, and at such a young age.
“Classic.” Eddie said. “I remember what I got out of that movie, still to this da…”
“If things don’t change, do something abstract.” Scott interrupted. "Something different you haven't thought of yet when facing difficult situations."
“Something like that.” Eddie said.
"It's time for me to get out of here," Scott said.
Though recently just meeting Scott, it seemed he had been around forever. Eddie did not want him to exit so soon.
"How about where you are now? Do you have a story that includes a need for almost a specific perspective just recently occurring?" Eddie asked.
"Rene and I, we tried having sex together. Well, we did have sex. We didn't try. This was high school. She got sick a couple weeks after. Said it was the flu.” Scott started.
“A couple weeks ago she called me and told me I got her pregnant the time she lied about being sick.” Scott continued.
“I know it’s so many odd years behind me, but she didn’t even ask how I would have felt about it. And now I’m here, those same odd years later, thinking about something I created having been destroyed without my knowledge of it even existing. I could have created something that had a possibility to change the world, my world, this world. She didn’t even ask.” Scott finished.
“Did she need to ask?” Eddie asked.
“You said you wanted a story about perspective.” Scott said.
The tall man honed by the name of Scott stands over Eddie now and proceeds out the doors of Susy’s without paying for his meal.
Eddie sits at the counter alone, just thinking. Several minutes later he pays his check and starts walking towards the nearest motel.
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V
“Yeah. Just one night... Mhm... How much?” Eddie asked.
It was dark outside and Eddie walked two miles to find a Motel 6.
The starry night of the Arkansas sky, in all its beauty, reigned over the deflated motel. Having been about the seven hundredth motel Eddie has slept under, this was by far the most ill sensed one.
A mist of shattery vibes peaked through the front door, creeping towards where Eddie stood. His phone went off.
“$49 for the night.” The concierge said.
He wasn't’ really a concierge, just Lance, the night shift guy at the Motel 6. Lance was ambitious, however, and wished to be referred to as: Lance, the guardian of keys, or Lance, the true key holder.
But only in his video games was he respected with such an honorary level.
Eddie reached for his phone before he could acknowledge the true key holder’s request of $49 before passing.
“One second.” He said. “Hello?”
“Yes this is Eddie... Rene Capsoul? Wow, I was just talking about you earlier today… Scott, he told me some interesting… Scott. I didn’t catch his last name, he said he was really close with you back in Chicago… What?...” Eddie said.
On the other end of the call Rene admitted not knowing who Scott was.
“I didn’t know a Scott from the city. Anyways, Eddie, the reason I called…” Rene said.
Her ideal conversation was predestined, yet tampered with due to Eddie speaking on behalf of someone she truly does not know. This shook her destiny upright and evidently confused and upset her.
“Rene I’ll call you back.” Eddie said.
The call ended and Eddie focused on Lance.
“Here’s $50... 111?... Thanks.” Eddie said.
He walked out of the poorly vibrated entrance of the motel and navigated towards room 111.
The night was filled with natural lighting and humanitarian sound as cars drove past on the interstate. Eddie believed only a man like Longfellow could describe the stillness of the scene. Though, nothing was quite still for Eddie in his own reality.
“Rene hello,” Eddie said.
Immediately upon entering the room Eddie reached for his phone and called Rene back.
He dropped his bag, the one he carries with him at all times, and walked around the room, pacing his footsteps back and forth inside the four concealed walls.
“How are you?” Eddie asked.
“Eddie, the reason I called was to tell you something important I felt you should know.” Rene said.
“Remember high school?” She laughed. “That one time we finally did it. It was enough, Eddie.”
Eddie was frozen; incapable of processing coherent thought.
Again Eddie was lost. Just as lost as he was when he sat on the beach two years ago.
“But Scott...” Eddie said.
“I told you I don’t know anyone named Scott, Eddie. Just stop. I don’t know who you are anymore, and I don’t know what you do. I don’t know who Scott is or what he said about me from high school. All I’m doing is calling to tell you I aborted the child you put inside of me when we were seventeen.” She said.
This was her optimal goal from the start of conversation that Eddie would not let her get to.
“I’m getting married tomorrow and for some reason, something made me call you to finally tell you. I don’t know what, guilt maybe, but something. Goodbye Eddie.” Rene finished.
Eddie threw his phone across the room, subsequently shattering it into piece.
“God damn it!” Eddie yelled. “What is this?”
Thinking out loud now, Eddie can do nothing besides attempt to gather himself from todays mischief brought forth.
“Who’s Scott?!” Eddie shouted louder. “I don’t know Rene, who the f**k is Scott. I didn’t knock you up when I was seventeen. No I f*****g didn’t. Who are you to call me and say this to? And then hang up. God damn it!”
He punched the closest wall as hard as momentum could abide by.
Stumbling around the room hysterically now, Eddie continued thinking out loud.
“Scott.” He said.
He began to settle as he repeated the name to himself.
“Scott.” He said again.
Eddie sat in the rooms filthiest chair beginning to change silent. He kept himself inside his head for now. The aftermath of letting himself out resulted in a broken phone and a bloody hand. He was aware of his anger and understood the necessity of peace at this time.
Tomorrow, Eddie will return to Susy’s diner and do his best to find out who he spoke to earlier today. He must.

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VI
Another alarm clock brought forth a new sun. The Arkansas sky grew brighter as the birds sang and even brighter as time moved forward. Opposed to his normal struggle of awakening, Eddie jumped out of bed.
Unlike the latest two years Eddie has spent, today had a need. No more time wasted on a morning cigarette. No, Eddie knew the day must not come to him, rather him go towards the day.
And so he walked out the doors of room 111, checked out with Stacy, told her to wish Lance a Merry Christmas for him, then walked into the rising sun.
On his walk back to Susy’s that morning the air was easy and peaceful. There was no breeze, not even a light one to affect, in any mathematical sense, his arrival to the diner. Nothing stood in Eddie’s way.
Two miles south produced the small, locally owned Susy’s. The same diner where just yesterday Eddie met Scott, a man who was so similar he was by definition inconceivable.
Haunted by the indistinguishable and pure relevance of childhood stories along with the futural presence Scott demonstrated to Eddie, a lot of things were to be questioned back in the diner.
A golden bell overhead the swinging front door rang as Eddie stepped foot inside. Greeted by an elderly man wearing a blue apron with a name tag that read Art in ubuntu font, Eddie was sat at the same corner booth as yesterday.
It was still early morning and the diner filled just a handful of customers. Men and women were sporadically seated in different areas of the diner. Some were reading a newspaper, some just shadowing the concept of a wallflower.
Seated directly across from Eddie was an older man that looked more reserved yet similar to Eddie. He watched as Eddie sat down, analyzing.
At first Eddie had no knowledge of the hidden man and his existential worth. In fact, only the server knew of the ominous man inside the diner. But the continuing stare produced made Eddie feel his presence.
Twisting his back and focusing on the opposing corner area, Eddie made eye contact with the man by accident. It was a childish stretch of the back Eddie had done to assert the mans look towards him. Though he could not fixate now on the hidden man and his dark complexion; solely because he had preamplified questions in need of answering from yesterday.
“Two creams, two sugars, and please.” Eddie said.
The waiter grinned as he nodded in confirmation to Eddie’s request.
Absolute light shined through the rolled up blinds of the window, just as before.
Pouring house blend coffee into a white stained mug, Art asked if the consumer was ready to order.
“Not yet.” Eddie said. “Hey, Art, do you know if any waitress here worked yesterday morning?”
“I’m not too sure, son.” Art said.
"Eddie." Eddie said.
Then, appearing through the window now, the same delicate rays as before, hovering over the waitress behind the counter.
“The women behind the counter right now, what’s her name?” Eddie asked.
“Car?” Art said. “Her real names Carrie, but we call her Car.”
“I’m going to bring my coffee over there if you don’t mind, be sure to catch the tip, Art. Have a good day.” Eddie said.
Moving swiftly towards the counter Eddie thinks of his approach towards Carrie the waitress. He understood it may sound crazy, stalkerish almost, to ask her about Scott, but he must for any possible sanctuary.
It was ten feet away Eddie realized his perfect approach to Carrie lacked sensical reasoning. If he, Eddie, could not make sense of the man he has actually spoken with, what would it be to ask a waitress of him?
“Good morning.” Eddie said.
“Morning, hun, what can I getcha?” Carrie asked.
“Nothing for now, I do have a question for you.” Eddie said.
Car looked addled in response to Eddie, as if she was not the one to question.
“Me?” She asked.
“Do you remember me from yesterday morning?” Eddie asked. “I was sitting here, in this exact chair, with another…” Eddie said.
Before he could finish, a middle aged man no older than fifty shouted in his direction.
“Over here!” The man yelled. “Eddie, over here!”
Eddie turned around as if it was god calling out from above.
“Don’t bother that poor old waitress, child, come here!” The man continued shouting.
Eddie was confused as to how the middle aged man knew his name, but more so interested in his attempts to sway Eddie in his direction. He excused himself from the waitress and walked towards the aging man. Carrie was not able to see or hear the man who was calling for Eddie because of where the man sat. To her, Eddie merely walked away without reason.
His name was Dey Anthony, the same man Eddie noticed previously upon entering.
Making his way closer to the darkest part of the diner, Eddie was emerged with a looming, internal feeling of again being lost.
Newly conjured clouds appeared during the walk towards Dey, causing for a total transfer of weather and restricted light inside Susy’s.
Here, in the corner, light did not make its way through.
Everything became something wicked. Reality began to fade to the darkness as Eddie started persperating worse than before with Scott. Dimensions, though not visible to Eddie, broken.
“Art said you had some questions for one of our waitresses.” Dey said.
His face was locked in with a devious grin.
“Yeah, for her.” Eddie said.
He pointed directly at Carrie who was now taking the order of a young couple at the counter.
“Do you work here or something?” Eddie asked.
“Or something. Sort of. I know the people here predominantly well; this is my local diner. I eat here every morning. I speak to those working here everyday. And I know you were about to speak to Carrie regarding your time here yesterday.” Dey said.
His statement was conclusive, yet served due questioning. Dey backed up his story and his reason for being with just one affirmation, but how could he have known what Eddie was to speak with Carrie about? For he, Eddie, was not too sure himself what conversation with Carrie could have entailed.
“Rumor has it your friend left without paying for his meal yesterday.” Dey said.
“I don’t know. I was just talking to the guy. He said some things and then left.” Eddie said.
“Yeah, sounds like Scott.” Dey said.
“You know him?” Eddie asked.
Dey laughed.
“Yeah, I know him. He’s been around for about a year now, coming and pleasing his way for a free meal. The son of a b***h knows he has money.” Dey said.
“Not to be rude, but why did you call me over here?” Eddie asked. “I didn't’ have anything to do with his dine and dash.”
“I listened to you and Scott speak yesterday at that counter just over there. Some unbelievable stuff.” Dey said.
Dey spoke with a southern drawl, but not so thick of a drawl you’d believe he’d have resided in Arkansas or anywhere underneath the Missouri Compromise his whole life, rather so having moved at one point in his thirties.
“Was it real?” Eddie asked.
This was the question conjured up after a night of deprived sleep. Eddie attempted to convince himself last night that his day was only created inside his mind, that Scott was not real, and that he was just something configured for clarity.
It was possible for Eddie to understand the idea of clarity and its necessity, therefore it made sense to have created an illusion.
But Rene. Her call that night was apart of time. Time, in this sense, is something created by physical law, where the subject cannot be proven false.
“Does it really matter?” Dey asked.
Eddie paused his transition of thought, stopping them from a flowing motion to focus on the question posed by this old man.
“You heard the whole conversation that took place, correct? You’re all caught up? Rene?” Eddie asked.
“Correct. Rene.” Dey said.
“She called me last night as I arrived at a motel. She’s getting married. She told me she had to get a child removed when we were in high school. My child. She didn’t know a Scott from the city. Nothing.” Eddie said.
Dey and Eddie sat now, both not speaking but rather taking in this specific conversation. It was though Dey seemed to have an advantage on the conversation, almost an upper hand he had that Eddie felt.
“Okay.” Dey said.
“Okay?” Eddie asked.
He raised his voice.
“What does that mean, okay? Okay what? She didn’t know a Scott, old man. It was my identity she killed.” Eddie said. “How did he know all that? The childhood, my childhood, Rene, the abortion, Groundhog day.”
“I asked you before, Eddie, and I’ll ask again. Does it really matter?” Dey asked. “Does it matter the prediction over the actual outcome? Odds are just numbers but being is tangible. You can feel yourself being, but you can also destroy yourself against odds. It happened, and it was real. Confusing as it may seem, Scott is real. He owes Susy’s money.”
“Does what matter?” Eddie asked.
“Scott. His reality, his projections, his mystical sense. Does it matter more to you what you think of him or what he knew?” Dey asked.
Eddie, baffled at the concept, took time before responding.
“I am Scott.” Eddie said.
“Correct.” Dey replied. “You are Scott, as you are Eddie, as you are I, as you are anything you decide to be.”
There was a long pause.
“Why?” Eddie asked.
“The understanding and perspective of ones identity.” Dey said.
“Scott, he told me things about my own childhood, and told me about my own future.” Eddie said.
“Correct.” Dey said.
“Why?” Eddie asked.
“To better equip you with the understanding of yourself, Eddie.” Dey said. “You are chosen to continue walking this ground in search of a deeply specific understanding of yourself that will eventually contribute to the better of the universe.”
“Me?” Eddie asked.
“You.” Dey said. “It has always been you.”
“You are the something that led me out of Chicago. You are Scott. You are me.” Eddie said.
It was at this point everything started to make some sense to Eddie. The internal feelings throughout the two years were just signs. A dimension without structure, such as the one Eddie lived in, could not bypass events of this travesty without having something to it.
“Correct.” Dey said. “With all of this knowledge, will you continue walking, growing, and learning to understand yourself?”