“What was her answer to those likely forever unsolved questions?” I pointed my pencil to the note I made, and thoughtfully asked for our readers (if any).
“I find it interesting that many people go through the phase of thinking about the same questions,” counting his fingers, James sipped his coffee and gave me a glance.
Meanings of life. Meaning of death. Feeling useless. Feeling lonely.
Saying the above, childishly playing with his fingers, James seemed to be in a good mood though.
Thinking oneself as the only one who cares about these. Every one else only selfishly thinks of the own problems in life. I wear a mask to pretend to be like them.
I added as I watched him drink the coffee that he wasn’t supposed to drink.
I wondered how he snuck it in. Maybe one of his friends helped? He did have a lot of friends, I noticed.
“So you were an edgy teen.”
“I was.”
Strangely, I didn’t cringe a bit whenever I admit these things from the past.
“Did you ever think of yourself as the prince of underworld?”
“No. But I hate human beings at, like, 13. And I was a great fan of your book.”
I reached to my wrist, “Fallen Crow was the bible to edgy teens. Did you know?”
Back then so many kids at school faked the wing tattoo that covered the protagonist’s wrist. According to the Crow/Crown trilogy, the tattoo is actually used to cover a burnt scar left by his lunatic abusive mother.
James burst out of laughter. I knew he was imagining me following the trend.
“You did that?”
“No. Actually I think that helped me out of my edginess a bit. I was 16 when the last book came out. I felt stupid seeing young kids drawing fake tattoo with markers.”
I also flipped through my foster brother’s diary (yes, diary) without any conflict of conscience. I said earlier I hated normal human beings. As I skim through his secret thoughts of his, I realized how similarly (edgy) we were. And so I reflected on myself. Quite a bit.
“What are your thoughts on those questions now, as a “grown mature man”.” James made that quote and end quote sign with his fingers, eyes still shimmering with a trace of happiness. Probably arisen from both the caffeine and what I just said.
“I don’t really consider myself as a grown and mature man, to be honest.”
Seriously speaking or not, I had always felt this way.
“Oh?”
“I felt like I remained somewhat edgy. Edginess can make a kid imagine a whole underground world and magic spells or dystopian land or whatever. I think it is the wildest way imagination can go, which would be bad if I don’t have it, as a writer, I mean.”
“So you’re basically saying that your view on life was mixed with half realistic and half edginess.”
“Yeah. I am also implying that I highly suspect you to be in the same case as I do, too.”
“Tell me what you think and we’ll see.”
“All right,” I shrugged and moved towards him. “I basically think that there’s actually no true answer. There could be multiple and at the same time there could be none.”
“You’re being too abstract.”
“Well then why don’t you try and explain it? I want some coffee, too.”
James made a “tsuk tsuk” sound with his tongue, and pretentiously frowned.
“You’re such a kid without manners.”
“And you’re an adult who have no self control.”
“Most people would just snatch the coffee out of my hand and freak out, you know.” James clutched his chest as if I hurt him for not caring what he did. He looked at me and urged me to play on.
“Well, since you are an adult, you should take responsibilities of your own action. If you decided to drink, why would a little KID like me stop you anyway? I would only sneak to you and ask for some, too. So can I have some or maybe I’ll just eat your cookie.”
I rest my head in front of the cookie package on the tiny table drawer. There’s still a get well soon note stuck to it. I flicked the note with my index fingers.
“You can have the cookie. Go ahead. But unfortunately this is my last can of coffee.”
“Deal.”
I indulged in food and totally forgot about James.
When I finished eating, I whipped my mouth of crisps with my sleeves.
Totally in the character of a little child.
“So, you ready to explain?” I asked him, “You had five minutes to prepare your speech, now ready, set—”
“Relax. Now you look sugar-hyped,” James rubbed his forehead as he quietly laughed and shook his head. “Ah…I really can do nothing about you.”
I gave him a thumb up and returned to an overly serious position.
“Mr. Gould. You need to stop fooling around. Now, please.”
“Okay. The questions. So the feelings were flowing spontaneously as I went over that part. I don’t really have a solid answer for why. Why as “she” grew old, she started to let go. She stopped being overly persistent. Maybe the character herself did not have the reasons in words either. I guess, if you want me to think hard ……”
“If you really want me to put it in words—”
“I would say, she had found her happiness.”
“As you said, different people have different perspective, thoughts, and goals. The old lady found hers. And to her, that is quite enough.”
“She could go on and pursue for the better and satisfy all her desires and wonders. She could have thought: is this really the best life I could have? There are always better men than the old man. There are also always better women than her. But they decided to stay. Grow old, become forgetful, be happy, and be content.”
“And they are. Even if the true answer for the whole universe is that there is no meaning for life, or that the existence of humans is a mistake, it didn’t matter any more. They are “living” their own answer.”
Emet held out his hand in the air as if he were tracing out something as he spoke.
Maybe something in his mind.
Maybe something he longed for.
Maybe this was what he longed for as the ultimate goal of life.
I may never know. I felt like this should be a very personal area he had in his mind, and I did not have the slightest idea if I were allowed to step in or.
Or only be able to stand aside and watch, as I always did.
James turned to look at me, and I shifted my gaze away.
I was hesitant in breaking the relaxing atmosphere. But I guessed I was just not that good at dealing with other people’s feelings. I shunned from them in the past. So did this time.
I quietly let out my breath, and refocused onto the story, retreated into my safe zone.
“So that’s the main concept for this story?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe.”
Right. You tell that to the readers. I won’t.
Imagine saying to readers: Good luck figuring out the meanings on your own. Or not. Since the one true answer is not important. Or since there is not only one true answer. Maybe there wasn’t even a concept behind this story at all.
I wonder if Emet’s hardcore fans would feel trolled or even love him more upon hearing that.
Anyways, jokes aside, I do hope you enjoyed a good time reading our work though.
To Emet and I, that’s what mattered.
And this would be our answer.
