| ||||||||
|
|
It
Seems Our Time Has Run Out, Dr. Jones PAGE
TWO: From then on, whenever I needed a little rescue from reality, he was there. Like when I dated the alcoholic. Or the gay guy. There were many gay guys, actually. And
actors, lots of actors, most of whom had serious substance abuse
problems and girlfriends and/or wives -- I KNOW! I made stupid decisions,
but everybody does, right? That's how we learn to make smart ones.
And Christopher, he was the best thing that ever happened to me.
We were three years in and suddenly I was watching romantic comedies
and wearing color and -- flowers? I LOVED flowers! Chocolate? BRING
IT ON! Think I was sappy? Fuck yeah, I'm sappy, I want EVERYBODY
sappy, I want bluebirds on shoulders and walking on sunshine and
reality to be so amazing that you no longer need your fantasy. And so there I was at the Music Box, watching Raiders of the Lost Arc. It was that scene where Indy and Marion are in the marketplace in Cairo, and the swami guys are trying to kidnap them so Marion hides in a wicker basket. And while Indy was running around fighting Nazi henchmen, I was slumped back in my seat, rehearsing what I'd say: "It seems our time has run out, Dr. Jones." Or, "You'll always be my greatest adventure." Or, "I'm sorry Indy, but I just don't need you anymore." No matter what I came up with, I still felt guilty as hell 'cause you know however much it hurts to get dumped, it's nothing compared to hurting someone else. "I can't do this," I thought. "Not to him." I was on my feet, scooting down the row and halfway up the aisle when…I heard him. "Where you going?" Slowly, I turned to face him -- my Indy -- staring down at me from the movie screen with his big eyes and stubbly face and beautiful, stupid smile. Behind him, the swami guys had just found Marion's basket and were carrying her screaming all over Cairo, but she didn't exist as far as we were concerned. "Indiana Jones," I said. "It's been a while, huh?" He laughed. "Do you remember the last time we had a quiet drink?" "Of course! We were waiting to shoot pool at Inner Town Pub and some asshole tried to cut in line. You caught him with the whip and let him dangle from the ceiling for a while." I felt suddenly nostalgic. "We've shared a lot of good times." "That's not all we shared," he said, leaning in close so his face filled the screen. "Primitive sexual practices --" "Indy, stop." I couldn't let this drag on. "There's something I have to tell you and…it may come as a shock..." "Nothing shocks me," he said. "I'm a scientist." He waited, still smiling -- and even though I hated myself, I knew I had to do it. "I can't see you anymore." "What do you mean?" he said. "I'm...getting married." "Holy shit!" "I know -- it's huge! I never even thought I'd fall in love, let alone…" I trailed off when I saw his face. It was hurt, but also angry, like in Last Crusade when Elsa tries to steal the Holy Grail. "Boy, you're something!" he said, turning to walk away. I followed, moving down the aisle closer to the screen. "Indy, come ON, what do you care?" He turned back, his face twisted in a scowl. "Now you're getting nasty!" "You have your artifacts, your adventures -- you don't need me!" "I'm sorry you think so!" "It's not like we've ever been exclusive! You had Marion and Willie…" "I can only say I'm sorry so many times." He sounded so defeated. "Indy," I said, reaching out to touch his arm, but he jerked it back. "Please, I don't need a nurse." I wasn't sure what else to say, so I borrowed from all the guys who'd dumped me over the years: "Fate just isn't on our side." He laughed in my face. "I don't believe in that magical superstitious hocus-pocus!" he said. I pointed
my finger at the screen and yelled, "Our whole relationship
is magical hocus-pocus!" This time, I needed to do the same. The music started then, low and distant: "Da-da-da-DAAAA! Da-da-DAAA!" and I felt a sudden pang of courage. "Indiana," I said, pointing behind me at the doors out to the lobby. "There's a whole world for me out there, and you've got your own in here. Turn around, look!" He did, and saw the giant bearded Samurai dude coming at him, flipping his machete around like he was about to slice Jones in half. "You don't have to fight," I called. "Just shoot him, it'll go much quicker." He did as told, then turned back to me. "Now you have to find Marion," I instructed, "Just follow her voice, she's loud as Hell." Indy nodded and ran through the crowded marketplace, knocking lids off wicker baskets while I stood in a darkened movie theater, yelling at the screen. "They're going to try and make you think she blew up in that Nazi truck, but they've really got her stashed away in some tent! Remember that and you'll be fine!" And then -- as Indy rescued the girl and foiled the Nazis; found the treasure and saved the world -- I turned and walked up the aisle. From the Surround Sound around me came theme music and explosions and Marion yelling "Indeeeeeeee…" but I didn't need it anymore. It was his world, and I pushed open the theater doors and walked out into mine: the city, the street, and Christopher parked out front, waiting to drive me off into the sunset.
|
I
wish I could say I handled myself well, that I told him off in exceptionally
witty dialogue, but it didn't happen. Instead, I threw a tantrum
in the Ypsilanti Wash-and-Go. I said nasty things and threw dirty
laundry, trying my damndest to pick a fight 'cause if he was standing
there yelling at me, at least he'd still be standing there. He didn't
take the bait though, and after a while just packed up his stuff
and left. And I was alone. In a laundromat in Ypsilanti on Valentine's
Day -- washing his clothes so he could leave me tomorrow --
which, in retrospect, is a very good blues song but at the time
it was rock fucking bottom. I might've stood there all day, but
just then, I heard it: that unmistakable "Da-da-da-DAAAA!
Da-da-DAAA!" and there he was, Indiana f'ing Jones on a
black-and-white TV near the stacks of dryers. I sat on a plastic
folding chair and for the next six hours watched the Saturday afternoon
Triple Feature.
