A small issue

   Amanda just laughed. She stopped fast but her answer to Melinda’s problem was not precisely the one she needed. Yes, she wanted to laugh too but she couldn’t as it concerned and it was a subject she considered deeply important. The waitress came with one big cup of ice cream and a glass of water, both for Melinda. She started eating right away, trying to avoid thinking in nothing else than in the different flavors of her sundae. Amanda just looked at her, worried but still with a smirk on her face.

-       Just tell me again, and let’s see what I can do for your. Really.

 Melinda just looked at her, still eating. After all, she had called Amanda to tell know her point of view of the matter and to see if she had some advice, although she didn’t know if advice had anything to do in this kind of situation. She raised her head and was about to talk but didn’t know where to begin. She had some water and then started, almost reciting was had happened days before.

 She had met the guy at a party made by one of her coworkers. It was a birthday. Melinda reminded Amanda that she had invited to go. Amanda nodded but did not say anything else, in order to let her friend tell all without interruptions. Melinda kept on, telling that she had some drinks at the party and eventually ended up meeting Dave, a friend of the guy they were having the party for.

 At first she didn’t really acknowledge his advances, because he was really been insisting, but after two more glasses of wine he began to be less annoying. They talked about work, about their favorite TV shows and the music they loved. When time come to leave the party, that had died out due to people being mostly drunk, Melinda left with Dave and then had a great night. They ate hotdogs, strolled through town remembering their past lovers and, finally, they arrived at her place. Without doubting, she asked Dave to come in with her.

 At this point, Melinda stopped talking and ate a big scoop of ice cream. Amanda just looked at her, now with what looked like pity, and waited for her friend to stop eating and keep talking. But Melinda has a second scoop of desert, as she found it difficult to keep talking. Finally, after a sip of water, she went on.

 She had been drinking too much and yes; they had sex on her bedroom. It was very strange because she did not have a huge hangover the day after but, somehow, she didn’t remember anything. She knew she had had sex with Dave but did not remember anything about it. When she woke up, thankfully, he was getting dressed up and told her he had to leave because he had something to do with his family. Half asleep, she said bye and went back to her pillow.

 This time Amanda decided to interrupt. She did this because she thought that first time was the only one Melinda had met Dave. She thought the story was about a one-night stand. But Melinda, after finishing her ice cream, told her friend that they had seen each other once more, about a week ago.

 It was him who called and asked her out on a date. Having nothing else to do that weekend, she had agreed to see him. Amanda asked why she had said yes but Melinda went on, remembering how she had dressed casually for their dinner. It was in a nice restaurant but she had no intention of dressing up for a guy she barely remembered. Nevertheless, she had to confess, they had a great time. The man was very charming and had many tales that were really interesting.

 They talked and talked for hours until it was late and, this time, it was him who asked her to go to his house to have something to drink and keep talking. She realized she hadn’t really gone out with anyone for a long time and Dave seemed like a very nice person. He was interesting and enjoyable and he wasn’t bad looking at all. So she agreed to go to his house. There, he had a very nice bottle of wine and she had one of the most funny and interesting conversations she had had in recent memory.

 Amanda then interrupted her friend, once more, to ask what Dave looked like. Melinda told her friend that he was about her size, so not very tall. He had blue eyes, which was largely uncommon in the guys she had liked, and he had nice short hair, not styled in stupid fashions like most men were using it today. That day he had wore very nice clothes, with a tie and everything. She had left a little guilty not to wear a nice dress.

 She asked for a glass of wine and went on with her story. They had been drinking and talking for several hours until he planted a kiss on her and she responded by pushing him and kissing him on the sofa, almost entirely on top of him. This was followed by both of them standing up, still kissing, and getting into his room. She landed first on the bed and then he leaned closer. It was very arousing, she confessed. But then it happened.

 She had never been one for touching or grabbing but that night she had felt especially bold. So she went for it and realized something was vey particular. She decided not to think about it and then proceeded to remove her blouse and he took off his shirt. It was very hot and they kept kissing until she unzipped his pants. It happened all so fast, she barely remembered everything accurately. The point was she was at home like thirty minutes later, not even waiting in the apartment for the taxi but choosing to wait for it in the building’s hall.

 Amanda was now smiling in a silly way again. Melinda hid her face behind her hands and said again what she had told her friend, almost upon arrival:

-       He had a small penis.

 It had the same effect on Amanda, who burst into laughter and even cried a bit because of her reaction. This time, however, even Melinda smiled a bit. She knew the situation was silly but she still felt betrayed, if that was the proper word. Days after, she remembered everything and she knew she hadn’t responded in the right way but, apparently, Melinda put too much attention to those details.

 Amanda then told her it wasn’t a bad thing, although her response had been just disastrous. She thought Dave was surely ashamed and affected by it all afterwards and men took really seriously the attempts against their manhood. She then proceed to ask how “bad” it was, and she said it just looked small, like… Amanda didn’t really know what she said, because she said it under her breath, but it wasn’t important.

-       Do you like him?

-       Well… Yeah, I guess.

-       No. Do you like him? Be sure!

-       Yeah, I do. His really nice.

-       And is his… - Amanda looked around – size, so important?

 Melinda didn’t answer right away. She didn’t wanted to sound shallow but it was true that most men she had dated had been well endowed and she know realized maybe that had been a conscious decision. But before she said anything, Amanda kept talking.

-       If it is, just call him and apologize. He doesn’t deserve what you did. And if it really isn’t, apologize too and try to give yourself a chance. Who know, he may be exactly who you need in your life.

 As it happens, Dave wasn’t the man of her dreams or nothing of the sort. She went up to his house and apologized in person. He was glad that she had come. They didn’t discussed anything of what happened but talked about other subject and realized hey could be very good friends.

 Maybe she was shallow after all or, maybe, sex was too important for her to be overlooked. Anyway, she promised herself never turn down anyone because of her personal preferences. It just wasn’t the decent thing to do.

Gods & Monsters

-       I tell you what. Fuck you!

 Alfie stood up and left, not waiting to be dismissed. He just wasn’t into doing this anymore, this work, this stupid pretending act that he had begun two years ago. Yeah, he loved being a photographer. But that didn’t meant he had no voice of his own or a clear opinion of the world. Of course, she had a point on thinking he wouldn’t mind doing anything she asked: the other photographer’s were just as simple-minded and shallow as she was. They would ever stand up to their beliefs, if they had any that is. They were just empty heads, filled with glamour and sparkles.

 Yolanda stood up right when she saw Alfie walking her away. She didn’t need a word from him, she knew her friend to well to need any statement. He only smiled at her and she answered by pointing at her phone and saying in a low register “Later”. He nodded, walked to the staircase and, moments after, walked down the street. The good thing was that his contract was about to expire, so he wasn’t really losing anything new. He was just appalled that someone would ask him the same things over and over and would not even look at his proposals.

 As he walked to the bus stop, Alfie went through it all in his head: he had woken up that morning very happy because he knew this was the day one of his proposals was finally going to end up being actually done. Normally, someone else’s idea was chosen but this time, his boss had told him it was going to be one of his ideas that would be chosen as the other photographers had all had a shot at it. And Alfie was not mediocre at all, he was a person that loved detail and accuracy so every proposal was just on the spot, with every single information needed to make a proper photo shoot for the brand that needed their work.

 So he just went crazy with ideas and chose three that he thought were best suited for the product. The first idea was just about the makeup related to the product. He had investigated the colors he wanted and the faces he wanted to portray. The second idea was all about the dresses, explosions of color and imagination that he knew would attract a lot of people to watch the publicity.  The last one, however, was the most daring but the one he loves the most. It involved a group of four people. All stark naked and with different body proportions and personal styles. All the proposals had something in common though: he wanted to work with real people.

 As he took a seat on the bus, he looked around. Those were the people he had wanted to use for every single one of his ideas: real folk. Just everyone and anyone. Old or young, fat or skinny, tall or short, black or white… It didn’t matter. He needed real people.

 But no. He got angry, remembering the meeting he had just come out from. Apparently the company had decided not to accept any of his idea because they were “too radical”. At first, he asked his boss to define that because he didn’t found anything radical about his work. If anything, he thought it was real and true to his ideals. And then came the real argument: the women that was his boss told him that the owners of the product had not asked for ideals but for their product to be well promoted.

 As calmly as he could, Alfie asked if he needed to apply other ideas but she said they had already gone with a shelved proposal by a photographer called Harry. But his name wasn’t Harry. It was Percival. But he had decided to call himself Harry because he told everyone he looked like Prince Harry. Of course he didn’t but no one told him that because he was one of those star photographers. Everyone wanted to work with him, he knew everyone, and he always had ideas that people would qualify as “marvelous” or “genius” but that were rather stupid in Alfie’s eyes.

 Harry, or Percival, would always make the same photo-shoots: a bunch of “perfect” male and female models, all in underwear and disguised as angles or something like that. Or maybe just shirtless and doing that stupid “duck face” Alfie hated so much when taking pictures. His ideas were what the boss said was “what the people wanted”. If people wanted to stare at perfect faces all the time, Alfie thought, they would just watch porn 24/7. And even porn had different types of bodies and faces, for everyone.

 He laughed alone on the bus at the memory of an idea he had had when beginning in the firm: he had made a whole proposal using porn actors to promote condoms. And he had looked for all kinds of actors and actresses who ere actually thrilled with the idea. But his company, and actually all other companies he tried to sell the idea to, were not interested in showing people that were not attractive enough “for the camera”. The good thing was the Association of Adult Films had contacted him and he finally did the shooting, as he wanted. The money was great but the audience wasn’t that big: the pictures were only used in sex bars and discos.

 Alfie, nevertheless, was proud of that work. It had been his only real job, the only one he had done that showed his potential and his urge to do something new with photography. But when he came back to his job, he realized that just wasn’t his real life. Everyday he would shoot pictures of mediocre TV stars and local movie people. Maybe some professional models, who had great stories but not much deepness in their minds and souls. The number of interesting models he had worked with was certainly very low.

 Yolanda, who worked as an assistant, knew very well who Alfie intended to be as a photographer. She had worked there for several years and told him, right away, he should be doing something more with his skills. But Alfie needed the money and decided to sacrifice his ideals for it, because he needed experience first to be considered good. That, for them both, was a stupid thing. Some people have had many jobs but that doesn’t mean they’re good, it just means they’re better at being annoying.

 Alfie stepped down of the bus and walked home. Before he entered his place, he stopped by a bakery and bought something to eat later. When paying, the young man realized he needed to check his financial condition because he needed to pay rent and having quit, he wasn’t going to collect unemployment. The moment he got home, he pulled out his laptop from the backpack he had went with to the meeting and started to check for jobs. But after a few hours, he realized it was a waste of time. Nothing.

 The phone then rang. It was Yolanda.

-       Hey

-       How are you?

-       Guess everyone knows by now, right.

-       Kinda, yeah. She’s not as pissed as I would’ve thought.

-       Good for her.

-       What are you doing now?

-       Looking for a new job.

 Yolanda giggled. That annoyed Alfie but she had her reasons.

-       I need you to call the following number. – Said Yolanda.

 Alfie noted the number and his friend told him he had to ask for Peter Hurt. He was a teacher in a university and he often needed assistants and so on so maybe he would have something, at lest temporary, for Alfie.

 The young man called Peter and they decided to meet that same afternoon. When they did, Alfie realized he was, what he called, a real photographer. He had done everything: fashion, publicity, journalism, art… But he had decided his thing was teaching. He told Alfie it was a miracle he had called because he really needed a replacement right now. To Alfie’s stunned face, Peter explained he had received a great offer abroad to do a series of shoots all over the World for a prestigious magazine. So he needed someone to teach class for a year in his behalf.

 Alfie had apparently lost his ability to speak. Teaching, he thought, was a very good answer to the question “What the fuck I’m I going to do now?” He asked Peter if he needed references and so on and Peter laughed in his face. He explained Yolanda had called earlier and told him all about Alfie, his current situation and talent. Yolanda had even sent a few proposals she had on digital format. Peter showed those to Alfie and he realized Yolanda must’ve taken the files he had left for his boss.

-       The job is yours if you want it. Of course, I can help you with some of these ideas and you could use the university studios for them. I think these ideas would make a killer exhibition.

 Alfie took the job, still a bit surprised. In one day he had lost a job and got another one. And he had Yolanda to thank. But also, he knew he owe it all to his ideals and being true to himself.

 Going back home he realized he would never have to do a stupid shooting anymore. No more gods and monsters of fashion for him. It would only be about real people, the ones that mattered and wanted to recognize themselves in the subtle art of photography.

Trans-Siberian

   Niko handed Natasja with an envelope, telling her to read its content and then destroy it. He also gave her an umbrella, saying it was raining a lot in Vladivostok. He finally wished her a nice trip and promised to see her in two months on a plane to Japan, if all went well.

Natasja then boarded the train and looked for her seat. To make things less suspicious, she had bought a seat in a four-seat cabin. Getting to know other passengers and playing cards with them would make her less of a target for people watching, looking for odd behavior.

She found her seat and realized the compartment was still empty so she took the seat by the window and looked at all the faces outside: family members of the travelers, the travelers themselves giving advice about unimportant things, police officers and station guards, providing weak security to the building and even tourists. It wasn’t uncommon to see them, especially in the summer, but people around these parts noticed them always.

Sure enough, a tourist couple sat in front of Natasja and an older woman besides her. About fifteen minutes after her finding her seat, the train began to leave the station. The young woman leaned back, clutching hard on her envelope, thinking this should be her last assignment. She was so fed up with this job, always moving from one point to the next, never really having a place to call home or someone to actually care for her.

The older woman pointed something through the window and the tourists smiled and talked to her. Natasja then remembered she had to do exactly the same, blending in and trying not to look too strange among the fairly common passengers of the train.

She proposed a game of card, which they all eagerly joined. They played for well over an hour, laughing and learning each other’s name.

The couple was composed of Marisa and Tommen. She was French and he was German. They had boarded the Trans-Siberian in order to get to Lake Baikal, a place they had always wanted to visit because of its landscape and fishing possibilities. Every couple of minutes, they would say something about a fish or some sea creature they had captured while fishing. They could get annoying if Natasja or the older lady didn’t change the subject.

The older lady’s name was Katya. She had been visiting a sister in Moscow for a month or so but now she needed to go back to her home in Irkutsk. When asked why she lived in such a harsh city, especially during winter, she answered her father had been one of the first colonists to exploit oil in the region, by settling near the city. And she had always loved it there so there was no way she would leave, even if her old bones couldn’t cope with the cold as well as they did before.

Natasja introduced herself and told her cabin companions that she had been attending a specialist in Moscow. When asked if she was sick, she answered she had been attending chemotherapy, because of an odd tumor the doctors had found in her lungs. She had lived in Moscow for the time being but now that she had being deemed healthy enough, she had decided to travel to her family in Vladivostok.

She learned the story so well; she had started believing in it. She even gave precise details about the procedure, her family at the end of the line, her house and a dog named Flo, who she claimed was waiting for her in the Vladivostok train station.

But the truth was far from that nice story, which had nothing to do with her.  After playing for some more, Natasja excused herself and told everyone she had to go to the ladies room and to get a drink of water. She even asked everyone if they need something: Katya asked her to buy a water bottle to drink her pills with. She agreed and exited the compartment calmly.

Outside, however, she was impatient. She had to get to the nearest bathroom and read the documents Niko had given her in the station. No one, or so she thought, had seen her come out of the cabin with the envelope. She walked for a while until she found the restaurant wagon. There, she asked for a bathroom, which she found easily.

In there, she read all the papers. They were only two, detailing what she had to guard so carefully and instructions about what to do if the object in her possession became lost or was destroyed. This last thing was preferable than see it taken by someone else. In any case, it was imperative she got it safe to the Pacific and gave it to another person in the train station, at her arrival.

When she finished reading, Natasja soaked the papers in the toilet and then saw the ink falling, as it was made of some strange liquid. After a couple of minutes, all the letters had “melted” from the two sheets of paper. She threw the two empty papers into a trash bin and then came out of the bathroom. An annoyed tall woman was waiting outside. Natasja excused herself but the woman didn’t even care.

She went back to the restaurant wagon and bought the water bottle for Katya who was very happy to see it when Natasja got back to the cabin. They were all fed up with cards so they just started talking until they all fell asleep. The first day of seven had finished.

The next two days were all the same: playing cards and seating all together for breakfast and lunch. Natasja excused herself from eating dinner, as she had never really liked to eat at night. Her body never responded kindly so she preferred to stay in the cabin and read one of the books a kind lady rented every passenger for a couple of pennies.

The truth was that Natasja didn’t want to get too far from the cabin. The object was there, and it would be madness to leave it alone but also to take her with her everywhere. It would make her too suspicious and, somehow, she knew someone watched her everyday.

She felt it first during lunch in the second day, when she stared a little bit too long at the window and suddenly she felt everyone in the restaurant was looking at her. She was probably being paranoid but it was better to be paranoid than not to be careful.

Sure enough, her cabin companions had asked about her papers and she suddenly faked she had no idea where they were. They even called one of the train’s guards to help them look for the envelope but it was all in vane, of course. Natasja told her new friends they were only the results of the last blood test, affirming she was now well and free of any cancer cells. She just wanted her parents to see it, to make them happy.

This, somehow, made Natasja the subject of unwanted attention all over the train. She couldn’t go the to panoramic wagon or to the restaurant without people telling her how brave she was and how young and beautiful they thought she was. The young woman started having a problem with it, because some people even broke in tears and confessed they had suffered from cancer too. After all she was human and it was disheartening to see people open like that, for no real reason.

On the fourth day, at night, the train arrived in Irkutsk. So she had to say goodbye to her cabin companions. They even hugged and Katya shed a tear, handing Natasja a bottle of lemon juice she had bought in the restaurant. She said it was good for the cells and that it was the only thing she could have bought as a present. That little present made Natasja actually happy, as friends were not easy to be found, not for her at least.

They all exchanged phone numbers and then parted ways. The next day, just one more day or so to her final destination, Natasja went alone to lunch and thought of her life. She had never known a real family, having been abandoned by her parents in an orphanage. From very little she had to fend for herself and there was no space for love or animosity with anyone, not in the streets. When she got older, she was recruited by an intelligence agency from abroad in order to work inside of Russia, dealing with different kinds of jobs.

But she was tired of it. At night, alone in the cabin, she decided that this time it was her time to be herself. Not Natasja, or anyone else but only her. After handing the umbrella to the agent in Vladivostok, she would leave that world of secrecy behind.

When the train finally arrived to the Pacific coast of the Russian Federation, the police found Natasja’s body lying right in the spot she had decided to be free. After thorough investigation, they deemed her death a murder by poison, probably related to a bottle of juice found besides her. She had no possessions with her as nothing was found on the cabin besides the bottle.

Someone extracted the umbrella, just after she had died or fell asleep. But the identity of that person remains a mystery to this day and it’s very likely we will never now who called agent Natasja.