GOD CALLS COLLECT.

grab his waist

slip your hand in his pocket

steal his wallet

dont even kiss him

COYOTE UGLY dir. David McNally

IT HAD BEEN a blur. He didn't even remember making the decision to make his way towards Teresa. It wasn't until he had parked the rugged red truck, leaning to dig for his cigarettes, that he caught sight of the familiar building. There was a pause and he tried to put together the details of drive. None of it came together though. Just lost to whatever thoughts that had been taking over instead. He was there now though and he wasn't going to change direction.

He needed an anchor. He needed her.

His eyes moved to glance at the rearview mirror. The wrinkly blue tarp covering the contents of the bed of the truck seemingly stared back at him. And then he moved to look at himself. Blood splattered on pale skin, hair sticking to his forehead. A mess.

It was as if the sight of himself triggered everything to come rushing back and a wave of panic came with it. A rare feeling but one he did not like.

"Fuck," Cigarettes were discarded to the passenger seat as he pushed the car door open. The sight of blood stained hands sent him even deeper into his spiral. "fuck." Vincent was grateful of the late hour, hiding the mess of his appearance and keeping people tucked into their homes.

In truth, he didn't even know how much of a mess that he was. There hadn't been a point that he had stopped to look. The collar of his shirt had been yanked out of place, now missing the top two buttons. The fabric no longer crisp and tucked neatly into the waistband of his pants. Dirt and blood soaked into the spot at his knees. Blood was everywhere if one looked close enough.

But he knew that she'd be awake. He wasn't expected but that was going to be the least of the problems.

by the time her feet hit the pavement, office lights are out and the door’s locked. she clips her keys onto the front loop of her shorts, rushing to slip her shoulder under his arm, “the hell happened to you?” voice low, deeper than some would expect, a ghost of the place that raised her lingering.  

she changes her mind, “don’t say shit.” not that he’d’ve answered. never know when some local dickbadge is around — all that church money raised for new cruisers just for a specific few to resist. oscillating between their old ones and unmarked department cars.

bullshit aside. at least their colors have range. complicit cranberry. bury-evidence brown. ignore-witness indigo.

tugging him with her, teresa does her worst pretending there is nothing strange about the truck … or how every shift of her hand finds a new stickywet spot. she waits to look down until they’re standing outside a vacant room.

a vein, old and deep, pulses beneath the pavement, at odds with her forced apathy. above them, the dim yellow bulb flickers, teasing flashes of red on him — now her — until she finally slips her skeleton key into the lock. one more minute of fumbling and she would have fooled herself into believing the blinking is morse code.

even as she drags him into the bathroom, drops him onto the toilet lid, she’s not entirely convinced it isn’t. teresa leaves only to lock the door and grab towels tucked above the sink. soaking a few questionably stained, but clean, in water.

her knees are quick to press into tiles. first, she fiddles with the remaining, still slippery, buttons on his shirt. next, her attention is on wiping vincent’s hands, his arms, and over his shoulders. teresa is well practiced in the art of cleaning messes. grateful when each spot of drying blood, so far, isn’t hiding something worse. despite an attempt at softness, “how much of this is …” she looks up but does not focus on him, “you need stitches or not?”

“You know exactly what I’m telling you.”

“That’s not my wife, ____. I keep asking her, and she keeps saying no.”

“It has to do with believing in yourself.”

“You’re not allowed to speak to me tonight, after that stunt you pulled.”

“What was I thinking? I must be crazy!”

“We’re all going to hell for the songs we sing.”

“You’ll be happy to know that things aren’t working out between the two of us.”

“My problem is that it’s 2 a.m. My problem is I’m asleep.”

“I’m sorry I let you down, ____.”

“I am not gonna be that little dutch boy with my finger in the dam no more!”

“It’s alright, it just happened.”

“Just happened?”

“You tried to kiss me because ‘it just happened’? You should try to take credit for something every once in a while, _____.”

“You think this one will stick?”

“You walked all the way from ____?!”

“You should try to take credit for something every once in a while, _____.”

“Start loving yourself, so we can go back to work.”

“There’s no better way to put it behind you.”

“I think it’s about time, ____.”

“Do you hear them, ____? Do you hear the angels?”

“Marry me.”

“You should go down there to him, _____.”

“He’s all mixed up.”

“I am not going down there, if I go down there….”

“You’re already down there, honey.”

“You can’t wear black, it looks like you’re going to a funeral.”

“Tell me you don’t love me.”

“Rule number one: Don’t propose to a girl on a bus. You got that? Rule number two: Don’t tell her it’s because you had a bad dream.”

“You’re not talking to me, ____?”

“Prove ____ wrong, he says you can’t do anything that isn’t written in your calendar.”

“I don’t love you.”

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m fine. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“You’re a liar.”

“I guess you ain’t got no problems then.”

“We surrender! We surrender!”

“You’re an angel.”

“____, I have a casserole in the oven and your sister in the kitchen.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’ve been there with me.”

“I had a friend who needed help. You’re my friend.”

“Where’ve you been? Where’ve you been?”

“I think it’s about time, ____, for you and me to get married.”

“____, you are a mean man! You are a mean man and a I knew it. I knew it all along.”

“Yeah, well, walking is good for you.”

“That doesn’t make me happy… well… maybe a little it does.”

“I’ve done so many bad things.”

“What have I done? Just hurt everybody I know. I know I’ve hurt you. I’m nothing.”

“You’re not nothing. You are not nothing.”

“You know what that is, ____? You know what that is? Nothing. Nothing, that’s what that is. That’s what that’s worth, and that’s what you are.”

“You’ve done a few bad things, that’s true.”

“It burns… it burns.”

“You’re afraid to be in love, you’re afraid of losing control.”

“Everyone in this car is going to hell….”

“Leave him alone, ____, he didn’t do this.”

“I want to marry you and I am telling you it’s the time.”

“No, I don’t trust you.”

“Well I’m telling you with one hundred precent certainty that it is not the time. It’s not about time, it’s not the right time, it’s not even quarter to the right time.”

“He was the beset, and now he’s gone!”

“Looks like we’re here.”

“Who are you to judge? You ain’t got nothing.”

“There’s too many ‘if’s in that sentence.”

“Okay… okay fine, but that’s the last time I’m asking.”

“The devil did this.”

“I was thinking maybe you ought to try sleeping at night. Maybe eating. Maybe both.”

“This is your chance, honey.”

“What about me, ____, am I going to hell?”

“There’s only one ‘if’ in that sentence, _____.”

“Come on, baby…”

“You are not allowed to speak to me.”

“Oh please, get off your knees, you look pathetic.”

“Okay, ‘cause you’re asking so nicely.”

“Next time I ask you to marry me, I gotta come up with a different way.”

“The phone’s dead.”

“What if I didn’t?”

“I’ve done so many bad things… what have I done? Just hurt everybody I know.”

“You’ve got me all revved up.”

“____, please don’t leave me alone…”

“I’ve asked you forty different ways and it’s time for you to come up with a fresh answer.”

“I’m asking you to marry me. I love you, _____.”

“Quiet! Everybody quiet!”

“I know I said and done a lotta things, that I hurt you, but I promise, I’ll never do that again.”

“I only want to take care of you.”

“I will not leave you like that dutch boy with your finger in the dam.”