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‘When Juniper and Jade began to slaughter P, it was entirely out of greed.’ I explain to the little human on my knee. This little human is my son, V. I had him by P, or so it was said to be. I argued a lack of certain necessary biological organisms. I was confused by this incessant desire to obtain one decisive determination of right and wrong. Arguments defeat themselves, this world is too opinioned; to put it as lightly as I possibly can. ‘They were looking for each other, you see. P was an aversion. P was the mistress of their freedom. But she was too little, too weak. They tried dragging her along by the wrists, but they tore off. They tried doing the same by her ankles, but these also gave way to snags in the highway. They tried slinging what remained on the back of a donkey. But her rot crept up his spine and spread a disease that neither of them could spot in time. Time was running out. It was simply too late. Time died.’

‘Then what happened?’ screams V. 

‘Isn’t it obvious kiddo? I’ve read you that story a thousand times, and still you refuse to remember. ‘They took her to a bar in the City and watched the wolves eat her alive. The rumor is they tried to save her life. But I have a different recollection of this scene.’

‘What did you see daddy?’

‘Well babyboy, it all began this way. I wanted your mum. The moon told me she was mine. So I took her. This was the night. It was the 22nd of June. The sun hadn’t reminded me of my light for three days. I was in all black. I stood on my yoga mat for two hours and spoke to the pain of being without her body. It blamed fear. I said, no! I fear nothing. We stayed there until very late, evaluating everything. What do you have to offer, I insisted on asking? I can think, I can wait, I can fast; I can wield a pen. Anything else? I was persistent; I must be more powerful than just this. I concluded that I was conceited far beyond my ability, and that this was indeed, all that I had. I wanted nothing.’

‘You wanted mum.’

‘V, please, you mustn’t interrupt. You may throw me off the course of this story entirely. I may never stand in front of my love again. And you may cease to exist! Is that what you want? Nothingness. No home. No way to go.’

‘I only want movement daddy. I only want the warmth of your lap. I only want mum when I’m too scared to admit it. I want to exist! I want to be! Finish the story, please! I’ll never say another word again.’

‘A bit dramatic V, don’t you think? I’m hardly here to take your voice from you; this defeats the entire purpose of my story. Be still sweet boy, listen. This part is almost as important as the very beginning. After enormous amounts of contemplation, I began to sing. I read this story aloud. I called it a song. I ran up and down every street in the world singing it at the top of my lungs until I heard it echoed back at me. It was this bar by the Park. I didn’t want to go inside. The music frightened me, the bodies disgusted me, the poison revolted me; everyone smelled like blood. I wasn’t dressed like anyone else. I was mocked. Someone spat on me. I took off my black scarf and hung it around an empty bar seat. I heard her first. I didn’t want to see. But I knew seeing was very important. I know, I wont believe without feeling. I felt her gaze. It tore off my skin and left me a bloody boney thing staring. I said nothing. My delicately developed musculoskeletal form began moving my hands. I took out a notebook and a pen. I laid Siddhartha to my side. I’d already finished much earlier that day. I needed it for protective purposes. I protective myself with books, what have you chosen to wear as armor? This is a rhetorical question V, don’t answer; it is you who taught me defense. It is you who dressed me for this night. You’ve been more than a kid to me, you see. A long time ago you were my knight and I was your guiding might. With the armor you placed over me in creating, I became invisible, unwilling to live in such a nasty state of mind: unable to die. ‘You’re looking muscular these days’ said your mum, condescendingly. ‘What brings you to this bar on this night? Why must you sit here to write?’ I don’t answer. I hold her glare. A nasty feeling grows in the pit of my stomach. I am not speechless. I have chosen to withhold my voice. Her question is absurd. I have every right to every inch of this earth. I wrote it. I still want her. But my words have become still. I breathe. Some girl at the other end of the bar by the giant window facing 5th is yelling at your mum, ‘It’s a waist of space! Someone needs to sit at this table. Tell that idiot at the bar to come here.’ Your mum smirks and insists. ‘Listen dude, its clear that I want you; but this is my livelihood. How do you expect me survive without falling in line? Would you have me starve, Sage? Would you have me carry a basket from door to door begging for something to eat? No, dear, I am royalty. I don’t beg. I don’t wander around aimlessly. I believe with all my might! And I die fighting in the name of a memory. Remember you, I do.’ I turn around so she doesn’t see my puffy red eyes; tear stained pink cheeks, and the snot dripping over my bottom lip. That is when I saw. The so-called empty table is not empty. This is when I first locked eyes with Juniper and Jade. Clearly, they were surprised to be seen. P starts walking towards me. She looks like a baby lamb. ‘You cannot possible be that innocent. You must be in costume. This must be a premeditated scene. These chairs must be reversible and these actors must be exhausted. Look at them sing an assigned national anthem and use the words as an excuse to murder their natural ability to write any song they please. That’s no excuse for murder.’

‘And who the fuck are you, may I ask?’ P looks at me, then at your mum, dumbfounded. ‘Seriously. Who is this fuck?’

‘P this is Sage. Sage, P. He’s a story, hardly anything else. Just let him be. He’ll write himself into sleepiness and leave without saying goodnight.’

‘I’ll say goodnight’ I interject. 

‘He speaks! Lets have a parade! Seriously, lets all just step outside and start walking until we find a better way’ Your mum has gotten lost in her own imagination again. I am staring at P. She is looking back. There is a familiarity that neither of us can use sound to manipulate. ‘Yes.’ She inserts, without breaking away, ‘If you must know, it is a costume. Don’t forget. I work here. We all do. Look around at these wolves! How long do you think they stare in the mirror until they’re satisfied with their reflection? How many times do you think they look down at a screen? How much do you think they’re getting paid to perform here tonight? When the director says that he’s got all he needs, think he’ll let them go? It’s just a theory, but I think the costumes are a permanent affair. I don’t think he has the intention of letting them change. I think this scene has been on repeat for a long fucking time. It’s waiting for some fuck to come in and change the ending. Oh well, fuck it! Let em rot, eh! Jobs a job. What are you writing?’

‘The end.’

‘No! That’s a terrible ending!’ pleads V. He climbs off my knees and starts kicking and screaming on the floor. ‘If you let her die, I’ll kill you myself! I’ll run away from home! I’ll never love you again. I’ll never need a dad. I’ll never need anything!’ He pisses himself and starts crying softly, curled up in a ball. 

‘My Knight of Light! You must gather your frustrated sniffles and change your pants. This story has barely begun. I said the end. When P asked what I was writing. I said, the end. Truth was, it was the first word I’d ever written in my life. And it said this, my dearest P, we’ve only just met, I know. Forgive me. I’m audacious you see. I don’t know how I know this, but you belong to me. Its time.’

‘Did she take you daddy?’ V says, still sobbing intermittently. He’s not sad anymore. He’s just restless and curiosity is burning him from the inside out, and if feels good to cry like a baby. We should all do it, all the time. ‘Or did she die? Did you let them kill her dad! You couldn’t have! You would’ve stopped it! You did. I know you did, because I am alive. How did you fight an idea daddy? It was so deeply planted in bloodshot eyes. A stage full of starving liars and full bellies. How did you convince them to sink their teeth into themselves instead of her gorgeous thighs?’ 

It was easy, really. I started writing and never stopped, in and out of every day, no matter what. I was written. I was told to move, so I moved. I walked right around the bar and reached out my hand. Your mum tried to think twice. But she couldn’t even think once, she took it. I brought her to the mic in the center of the room and told her to create a diversion. She started dancing like a five-year-old on an empty dance floor. She told herself her mum was watching. Every body in the room was hypnotized. So this is love? They tried to remember. She kept dancing. I dimmed the lights. I ran back to P, who was falling in love with the way your mum moved. ‘Snap out of it!’ I slap her. She shudders; then starts laughing insidiously. I cup her lips with the palm of my hand. She bites, starts laughing again, this time louder than before. ‘Shut up P! Please. Listen. I have a plan. When no one is looking at anything but their own reflection, I need you to pretend to be her shadow.’ She is instantly silent. ‘This will save me?’ She whispers. ‘Yes. But this will be the last time you see me. You must reflect my love, P. It’s the only way you live.’

She points to your mum ‘So, I must learn to dance like that. Mustn’t I?’

I answer. But she stopped listening a long time ago. She finds my watery eyes ‘Sage, dear boy. Don’t look at me like that. I’ll see you again; you know that. There is so much you don’t know too. This story may be you. But when I begin mimicking every move your love makes, I will be living inside of you. I have to hide for a long time. But when I am finally safe enough walk away from her body’s disguise, I will come for your touch. I know you. No matter how much it hurts or how long it lasts, I will wake up every day and remember everything. I will not forget.’ She disappears behind a goddess dancing. 

Juniper and Jade get anxious and make their way to me. ‘We know you’ve seen everything. Tell me, you fuck, where’s P?’

‘I’m here for the entertainment kiddos.’ I stretch my finger toward your mum dancing. ‘P, that’s a strange name. Is it a letter that you’ve lost? Don’t tell me you are writers too! I don’t have the patience for you. Look, there’s a P word. Use that and walk away. Wait. If she is wanting, she will come to you. If you’ll excuse me, you’re blocking my view. There’s a child dancing. And I haven’t even asked her name yet.’ I push them both away from the bar and sit. I stare. She clicks her chin and bobs her head side to side. Just before the director yells end scene, she catches my eye and winks. 

‘If you want the child, you must bow before me. What have you to offer?’

I flip my pockets inside out. There are a pack of toothpicks and some incense, a stuffed whale, one fig and three dates. ‘I can think. I can wait. I can go great lengths without food or sleep. My body is godly. My soul is free. I have all my love to give to you sweet girl.’ She stops dancing and comes all the way to my cocky grin, ‘Have you only this?’ My smile captivates everything. ‘No. I can also speak, story poems are what I call them.’

‘Okay story boy. Give me your little blue whale and tell me something I’ve never heard before. Be careful! I’m a word fairy, I’ll know if its not true.’

‘If I do, will you kiss me?’

‘I will. I will even say I do between our lips. But I don’t believe you can.’

‘Once upon a time’ I begin again, for the millionth time. ‘There was a bartender in San Diego, of all fucking places. Her name was a letter. The letter was blurry. I gave her the rest of letters and told her to paint. She painted herself a shadow, dancing on the walls of a room full of wolves. Then she painted you.’

‘Then what happened!’ V is jumping up and down wildly.

‘Then you’re daddy got kissed! Chill out kid. It’s bedtime. It’s just a story. There are no big bad wolves and no baby lambs: only you and your dreams.’