Chains of Fire

Hoolly Rodriguez

                                          Chains of Fire

        The band played loudly enough to drown the sounds of laughter. The music was soothing, and a melted off Michael lips, breathing slow and heavily. The warmth spread to his throat, chest and legs. His hands were still cold from the icy grasp of the winter’s night. The dancing of the people should heat the room soon, he thought. His eyes wandered through the selections of wine, beer and rum. His eyes focused on the labels and their dates, and the selection wasn’t bad but he had a full glass of Scotch in his right hand. Michael slowly sipped his Scotch, tasting the bitter sweetness, warming up his gut.

         “Hey there bud. You got something on your mind?” A chill sprinted towards his chest, as if waking from a dream. Michael looked around confused. He laid his eyes on a shadowy half-smiling face, with a brown fedora. The man looked around ten years older than himself, wearing a light brown trench coat with an olive green suit. Michael sat silenced for a second and said “well, just a woman.”

          “Don’t we all? Our minds float where our hands cannot or should not touch,” said the old man. The corners of his mouth perked up just slightly. Michaels’ lips followed, and his eyes dropped to his now half-empty cup. The dim light gave him some comfort. He thought of his wife Francis. She was probably out with her sister tonight. Her sister was pretty, very delicate with her mousy features. He remembered when he communicated that to Francis. She became a little irritated, but she knew her sister didn’t interest him.  “I fell in love once. I had it all, but now I have nothing at all,” Said the old man. His voice deepened with an eerie sorrow. Michael snapped out of his memory. The old man continued, “I believed I had everything. Well that’s what they told me. You’re well off; you have a family and a stable job. That’s it, that’s all you need. Therapist tells you, everything else is unnecessary. Who needs attention, or passion? Those things are for youth.” He shook his head and asked the bartender to fix him a dry martini.

          “Well I have everything I need,” said Michael as his face turned a little sour, and he downed the rest of his Scotch.

         “Yeah, I thought I had it all as well; a good looking wife, a pair of kids, and a job where I am respected. But I became bored with that dull life. Every day like the last, the children were a bore and I couldn’t stand it. So I moved on, got a new wife and overtime she bored me to. I talked to experts, they all said I just needed to reconnect but there was nothing to connect to, but bills and a silent home. Then one day through some strange declaration of faith, I found everything I ever wanted. The passion, attention and the magic, it was all there but it slipped from my fingers. Gone like Lucy in the sky. Yo tenia.”

             Michael replied “Well unlike you, I’m too busy to be bored. I don’t like to go behind my wife’s back just for a little sex.” Michael shrugged his shoulder casually and the bartender came to refill his cup with Scotch, but as he poured his hand slipped and his drink overflowed.

            “Perhaps you’ve had too much?” The old man chuckled, with a wicked glimpse in his eyes. The bartender swiftly apologized. The old man turned turned to Michael, “He’ll be alright, wont ya’ bud?” he asked. Michael nodded.

              “My name is Michael,” he said extending his hand. “Professor Kugelmass,” said the old man said. They shook hands lightly as if his skin was paper thin and as cold as the wind outside.

“Let me ask you Michael, how long do you think that excitement will last?” Michael turned his chair to directly face Kugelmass, with his silky jet black suit collecting on the knees. He removed his black jacket, placing it on the back of his chair. His eyes wondered from focus, as his breath became deeper as he placed his hands back down on his pants. Kugelmass continued, “Not say there’s anything wrong with keeping yourself busy, but how long can you keep that going?  What happens when you’re alone together and sex isn’t happening?”

             “What any regular couple would do,” Michael said. “Perhaps pick up a book and read, or go outside. We don’t have children, but I have a nice home, a good job, and rows of books to read from. I have everything I like.” Satisfied with his own answer, he drank from his cup. The music faded; the band announced a five minute break. The noises of the crowed began to fill the room again. The lives of so many people enjoying themselves with little thoughts of regrets.

            Kugelmass breathed deeply and started, “To like and to love are different. I like my kids but I love the thrills of mortal pleasures. To love and to like, are very, very different. The thrill that sex gave me took my breath away, it was addictive and consuming.”  Kugelmass laughed quietly, remembering the run, the feel of human flesh burning with desire. The secrets he had to keep to play his games which consumed him. They filled him with life, a life he would never be able to have again.

               Michael replied, “Some say we suppress our desire for true intimacy to fulfill the requirements of our time. Sometimes being an adult means sacrificing love for the necessities.” Michael looked away to analyze the liquor on the wall. A rumbling laugh as deep as the sea roared from Kugelmass throat.  People turned from their conversations to observe Kugelmass.

           With a tear in his eye Kugelmass said “But if intimacy is not a requirement or happiness or satisfaction what’s the point of fighting to reach a level of intimacy? To grow old together, does talk about nothing bring you peace and happiness? Plus, what’s the point of taking a risk, one which leaves an open wound exposed to someone who might not even love you? Is it for them to use it as a weapon? The risk is higher than the reward.” Michael felt the will to argue going away. The reality of the cold truth removed what little warmth he retained in his blood. “What you need is a pretty girl at home, one that cooks and cleans from a good family, so she may give you a family of your own. Then once that’s settled find a blood boiling lover, one who will keep you entertained. That way you can have your cake and eat it too.”  Kugelmass’s words made sense to Michael. He wasn’t wrong but even that had its risk; the bills, the hiding, the: organizing. But those risks made life fun in a way vacations could not. But he had much to lose his wife, his home, and his wealth.  The music came back, chairs were moved and people returned to the dance floor to swing to the music.

            Kugelmass inspected Michael. He continued “Of course you don’t have to do such things. You can live your life at home bored. Playing life safe with a pretty girl you like. Your appetite will stay on inside of you, growing, but your body will be held by a leash of marriage. That’s fine too.” Michael shook his head as he remembered that pretty young lady whom had walked passed him not so long ago, with her pretty red hair, rosy cheeks and bright green trench-coat alluring him without a word.

            “I think I’m good where I stand.” Michael murmured, the words stumbled from his mouth with a struggle. His mind flew into the memories of his lust, the blood boiling excitement. Yet the weight from his responsibilities dragged down his shoulders making him slunk. Kugelmass laughed this time like a whisper of a summer breeze.

            “Don’t worry, I was only playing one of my own little games with you. I like to mess with those whom look troubled by their decisions in life, since my judgments weren’t always the best. I like to call it playing devil’s advocate.” Michael looked directly at Kugelmass with a questioning expression on his face. “So this is a farewell, but Michael, you haven’t seen the last of me.” Right before his eyes Kugelmass began to fade into the darkness. Kugelmass features less visible, until he could no longer see flesh just darkness in a dim room filled with music and dancing lovers.