Memorable
"Do you think that if Genghis Khan, or Alexander the Great, or Cleopatra, or any other Great Person of History were born today, would they still have the same reality bending aura around them? If you ran into a perfect clone in Accounts Receivable or B2B SaaS would you feel yourself in the presence of greatness? Would such a person even ever stoop to stepping into an office? Is 'larger-than-life' bestowed as a function of circumstance or genetic envy? All I'll say is— don't ever meet your heroes. It's often anti-climactic.
When I first saw Julian, it must've been, what was it, maybe the Summer of 89. August? Yes, it must've been August, because I remember summering with the McKinnons at their place in Montauk, we used to do that every year. I remember thinking about him every day we were there, wishing I had invited him, cursing the social mores that had stopped me from doing so, angry at that stupid tradition because every second I was away from him the more he'd forget about me. We never even liked the McKinnons anyway, they were such bores. Anyway, when I first met him, it was the closest I've ever felt to meeting someone who had the potential to be great, in this life and countless counterfactuals. The man was larger than life, in a way that updated my priors about greatness. Maybe I just haven't met enough people with that spark, what Hollywood calls 'it,' a certain je ne sais quoi, etc. I knew I had to have him."
Memorize
"He was brilliant, spoke six languages, knew something about everything. Life was a classroom to him.
And his sun bleached ringlets, all curled atop a big man, strong, beautiful smile. Possessed of an easy-going charisma.
On top of all that, great job. was a higher up in some tech company. Part of a well known family in the area.
What did a girl like me have to offer? I wasn't as smart as him, as beautiful as him, as well connected as him. But you know that joke about the hikers and the bear? Two guys hiking run into a bear that starts growling. First guy starts praying, second starts tightening his shoelaces. First guy says 'You won't be able to outrun a bear,' second guy replies, 'I don't have to outrun the bear, I just have to outrun you.' I didn't have to be the equal of him, as long as I was better than all the other girls.
Opposites attract is a bunch of bullshit, you write that down. I found out what foods, hobbies, movies, shows, and games he liked. I learned the ideal adjectives he'd describe his partner with, and I embodied them. It’s easy to reconfigure yourself entirely with enough incentive. Retracing your steps back can be hard.
Memoize
"God, take me back to those first years. They were amazing! What an absolute gentleman. And I played my part perfectly.
I still remember those days so vividly, like one night, he was in a well tailored suit of the style back then, a bit baggier than the kids today would wear, but it still showed off everything it needed to. A pocket square in the front hid the wad of bills he used to get us into Arzak on a weekend, and a beautiful table with a view of San Sebastian no less! There was Spanish and Basque in the streets, like oil and water, people selling their catch of the day, their produce, or trying to get rich Dutch tourists into their knick-knack shops. Wow, incredible, it's like I'm there. I can almost smell it. It's funny, it usually works the other way around, a smell bringing back a memory.
'You don't want to hear about my job, I promise,' he would say all bashfully, sitting across from me, trying to keep his eyes up here, not that I minded his failings.
No, no, that's not right, he was bigger than that. Bigger still. Almost spilling out of those tiny chairs. Yes perfect.
Then I'd go, 'Of course I do! Try me.' I had to be chipper.
'It's basically glorified translation work. I take requirements from higher ups in the company, disseminate them to lower downs in the company. Haven't written any actual code in a while.'
'They're wasting your talents. I'm sure you're great at management, but don't you have a patent? They don't just give those out to anyone.'
'I told you about that?'
'You must have at some point. I've always had a great memory for that kind of stuff. Very selective though, because I can't for the life of me remember how it worked. The implementation techno-babble, that just goes right over my head.'
'You're one of the smartest people I've met in some time, I'm sure you could grok it if you sat down with it for a day or two.' So cute, as if I hadn't already. 'Sometimes when a computer turns on you need to go into what's called the BIOS to change some settings, like if something is breaking or whatever. If you look at the top of your keyboard above the numbers you might see some special keys that all start with the letter F, like F1, F2, and so on.'
'The function keys, of course,' I said. The haughtiness of saying 'of course' when I just learned about this stuff for the first time a week before. Sometimes I remember how I was back then and I crack myself up.
He blushed. 'Sorry, sorry, I have this bad habit of dumbing things down for people cause I'm afraid they'll get bored with the nitty gritty.'
'Not me!'
'Noted. So yeah, you can access the BIOS by hitting a certain key on your keyboard, like F2, as your computer is rebooting.'
'And that's how you can change the boot order or fiddle with power on settings, right?' This was all call and response, mental dictionary lookups, cache hits and misses; keep the ratio of hits to misses high enough and men will start to believe in true love or think they're living in a simulation because how can someone so perfectly attuned to them, 1. exist, and 2. be sitting across from them right now instead of literally anywhere else.
'I've never met someone so on my wavelength before.'
'Me too.'
'So yeah, that's the patent. Hitting a key to enter the BIOS. Sounds easy, was a pain in the ass.'
'I bet.' I batted my eyelashes. He invited me over that night and I accepted."
"That's gross Mama."
"Grow up Alfonso."
Memoir
"We can skip that part."
"I raised such a prude. It's important to the story."
"It's not important to what we're doing here though, and I don't have a lot of time, so let's just skip it okay?"
"Fine. Where was I? That's right, I often wonder, do you think that if Cleopatra, or Julius Caesar, or George Washington or any other Great Man of History were born today, would they still have the same, 'reality-distortion' aura around them—"
"You already said that Ma."
"I did?"
An exhale from stage left. "Yes."
"I think I used different examples."
"Does that make it different?"
"Of course it does! Nuance is wasted on the young. Whatever. What did you want me to describe next."
"Just keep going with you and Dad."
"You know I don't like talking about it so much. And now you're making me see it too."
"Please, be strong, for me?"
"And you can still see through my eyes?"
"Yes, the video feed is being forked to my glasses as well."
"Well, after I got his heart and his engagement ring, I thought I could, little by little of course, start putting a bit more of myself in the conversation. I never wanted to be a trained pet. Especially once we moved in together, there was no way I could hide, I don't know, ordering every season of his new favorite show from Blockbuster so I could make good conversation. And it's not like that immediately ruined our relationship. He once even complimented it, said he loved seeing this new side of me, loved seeing us growing and changing together. But some of my own je ne sais quoi for him, my sense of serendipity, had died. You could see it on him, clear as day. You can tell by the hesitations.
And we were on the West Coast but with his family in Spain— my family in New York I could take or leave— the travel wore us down, cause he wanted to see your Abuelita every few months, since she was getting older and sicker. We started fighting. Actually, before that, he would start fights, he'd get mad at some little thing or other, and I'd apologize and try to do better. I tried so hard, so so hard, for a while. I thought if I could just be better, everything would go back to the way it was. Then I came to terms with the fallibility of man, and I started fighting back. Then his mother died. Why don't you come visit me more often?"
"Mama, I'm in here at least once a week."
"I feel like I never see you."
"Okay, I'll try to come more often. But for now, just forget I'm here, keep going with the experience."
"Oh all right. It's just, it would be nice to get a good night from you once in a while."
"I can do that."
"Thanks hijito."
"I remember he used to wear his face ugly and crooked as he thought, the way he pictured the greats to have done. As if by coalescing his thoughts and his face he would be seen fully as himself and not the separation of concerns that he really lived." The graying, stooped man in front of me saw his skin and smile brought down by gravity. He only spoke Spanish now. Holes in the brain.
Oh hijo, this is so hard to remember.
Memorial
"Like any good parents we just wanted the best for you, but selfishly, we wanted to live through you a bit as well. That's why we put you through all those clubs and afterschool courses you hated. If you were doing well, we were doing well. But you just wanted to play on the computer, remember? And it looks like you were right in the end. If Papa saw how far you'd go he'd brag to all his cousins and friends back home without stopping. He would've danced on the tables. If he were a younger man.
When I fell out of love with him it wasn’t some big, crashing thing, it was the little click of an old lightbulb finally turning dark. Oh, now I'm crying. You see what you did to me?"
"Lo siento, Ma."
"Can I take the glasses off to wipe my eyes at least?"
"No, it's important you keep them on."
"Why can't we stop now?"
"We're almost there."
"Fine, fuck it! I was at the funeral and I saw the big old idiot and I loved him, and I hated him, and I wept, and I laughed, and I may have danced on some tables in the privacy of my mourning, and is that what you wanted to hear, and are we done here?"
The beautiful man I met all those years ago lay in the casket, having not aged a day.
Memorabilia
"Thank you Ma. You're done now. Let me help you with the glasses."
The Mediterranean turned into the bright pastel colors of whatever saccharine name this old folks prison preferred.
"This'll really help my memory?"
"Of course. If you keep your favorite scenes right at the top of the heap then you won't lose them."
"Look, I'm not going crazy, and I'm not going stupid like Eddie in the corner. I'm just getting old. We forget some things some times. The brain has to make room for the new."
"I know."
"I don't have dementia or Alzheimer's either. Your father did, and I know what I have is different than what he has. I just forget things. I think it would, what do the textbooks say? Improve my quality of life if I forgot less often. But I'm at a good baseline."
"I know. I just want to make you comfortable. Wouldn't you love to be able to go back to San Sebastian with him whenever you wanted?" He sniffled.
"Why are you crying Alf? Did I say something wrong? I love you."
"I love you too Mama."
He looks just like Julian, who I don't think was ever that
big, actually. Never meet your heroes.