They say an opening sentence should draw the reader in with its precision and clarity, a bouquet of words with the promise of fulfilment so compelling that the reader leaps into your story, it is the most important sentence in your piece, so here goes.
We used to drink together.
I know I know too vague. This is Scarborough, Scarberia they call it, the underside of Toronto where people rent rooms in cardboard hotels to die, where signs flicker above dark doorways indicating slummy bars, ours was called BILL’S BILLIARDS at first but over the years, and we witnessed the death of each and every letter, it became ILL LIARS which we called SICK FUCKS.
I saw him yesterday driving something shaped like those stupid Cyber trucks but it was half rusted plow and half El Camino. The plow part was on the back, not exactly decoration, but useless. He turned up a street and I followed, it was the Camino I recognized, still going and it was twenty years old twenty years ago. I saw the long grey hair and scribbled face, of course it was him, he stopped, no brake lights, I stopped and watched, he got out like a big spider, he maneuvered the plow so it scooped up the discarded dishwasher and sort of poured it into the bed, the car sank, he threw himself behind the wheel again, the car sank further. I was twenty years older, too, a different life.
And they say it is good to throw in a nugget of humanity now and then, something anyone can chew on, like snacks to keep your guests from drifting away. Nothing overt, certainly nothing jarring, don’t fucking google it, just something simple like the scent that comes with dusk, the moon’s shape, darkness itself, something common to prove we are all under the same sky, so here goes.
Ubuntu.
I know I know. I remembered the concept but forgot the word, I googled Zulu word for interconnectedness and that’s it, Ubuntu, the African concept that emphasizes the universal interconnectedness between people and can be translated as “I am because we are.”
I followed him for another while, couldn’t seem to stop following him, we used to hate leaving the bar, the comfort of one another, but eventually I went left after he went right, I had to pick Mary up from piano, there were groceries in the back seat, Marcus was working late and I promised the kids homemade pizza but bought the frozen ones instead, I’d add bacon, they’d never know.
It was dusk when I pulled into the driveway, Mary ran inside, I stood a minute looking at the moon, my heart full and empty, I am because we were.
