He'd bring me out here when I was a kid. He introduced me to it. Nigel knew the night sky. And from where we lay we could see Orion , the belt....the dippers...the north star
"...and that one is Venus ...another planet!...another world!" I about shit my pants when i heard that. Imagine...
It excited him that there were realms so different, and we wondered if anyone was looking back at us in their night sky, a tiny twinkling light in a canopy full of them.
You know the trouble with you Nigel...?
Yes. Any conversation that opens with that question is trouble with me.
I've heard worse, give me a chance...and I'm only trying to help.
What's that term? Trite. That's right "Trite"! So far you've strung two cliches together so would you like to go for a string of pearls or the sow's ass?
Sorry...what?
You can't make a string of pearls from a pig's ass...or some such...
...Silk purse from a Pig's ear.
Makes no difference. That's the very point. Nothing makes sense, and that includes taking advise from a ...
If you say 'a pig's ass' I will punch you hard in the face.
Don't break my nose again. Won't fit the same. The doc said...
You are a bug-gar, you are...that was forty year ago. You deserved it then, and now maybe again...?!
I was enjoyin' our night, but You bring me crashing back to earth, you know that? You're worse than gravity, you are.
The job has fallen to me. No one else will deal with you. They're all either tired, committed, or dead. You wore everyone out. You won. Your family is done.
Fuck all.
You said that once too many times to the wrong people. The ones that mattered.
...ya' say. Where are they? They are the wrong ones...
You can't prove anything to them now, Nigel. They've seen it. They've seen enough....heard enough. It's a shame.
So what are you doing out here? Why you putting up with me?
Because I know that behind that sick-fuck persona lies a mean, spiteful loser...
Great...
And behind that spiteful loser is someone in a shitload of pain.
So why stick it out? You don't realize by now I' m still very capable of inflicting grief to my rescuers?
I just remember who you are. But, I am not your fucking rescuer.
You're not, eh? Then what the hell you doing out here chatting me up? Telling me what's wrong with me...
You know those swimmers that swim channels and oceans and such?
Yeah.
Those people are out there swimming on their own. Stroke, stroke, stroke....hundreds of fucking strokes...fighting for breath, fighting cold and cramps, jellyfish and sharks...who knows what they endure...
What's the point?
Each of them has a boat.
What?
There's a boat just floatin' along, in case something goes wrong. But they can't pull out the swimmer until that point, so they shout, they encourage, they tell them what they're doing right...doing wrong. But basically they're just floating along side, observing from a safe vantage.
And?
That's me. I'm not involved with your swim, I just pulled alongside to see how you were sinking.
Slowly.
I see that.
So? You just going to float there?
What would you have me do? No rescues...your call. We moved beyond that.
Club me with your oar. Put me under.
Not on your life.
End it!...this pain you see so clearly, end it for me.
Can't swing the oar, I can only hold it out. You grab it if you wish, otherwise you go. Choice is yours Nig'.
Some help.
You wanted none.
Maybe I should just go...
Don't know...I'm...
That's when I saw it. His body lifted and floated just off the dewy grass, the dampness soaked into his coat...his pants, he lifted, wafted, and waved as he floated on invisible gentle swells, lingered awhile, as if caught in the wake of life, but then he lifted again, free of weight, free of fright, he drifted high into that starry night, and grew to be another light in a sea of stars, as seen from Venus.
