Chiasmus
"Hey. What're you working on?"
Anthaniel remained hunched with his head underneath the blanket, working on something in his lap. "The abuse of greatness is when it disjoins remorse from power."
"I'm going to pull that blanket away if you don't tell me right now," Nelson folded his arms in an attempt to appear threatening.
"Shakespeare." Anthaniel paused and shook the blanket carefully off his head, looking ruffled. "So help me God, if you expose my work, I will shove this scalpel through your eye and tickle the frontal lobe of your brain."
"What the fuck are you doing with a scalpel? Not cutting yourself, are you?" Nelson gestured to his arm. "If you're doing to do that, remember that it's down the road; don't go across the street."
"As though I'd really do that to myself just now. I'm trying to work something out one of my laptop parts."
"That requires privacy?"
"Yeah. I make a really intense face when I'm focusing on something, and I'd rather not have any of you assholes break my concentration."
Nelson paused. "Oh. I thought you were going to say 'I didn't want any of you looking and making fun of my work face' or something."
"Well, that too." Anthaniel pulled the blanket back over his head. "So what's up? Need something?"
"That depends, how good are you at massaging people's feet?"
"Feet are nasty. You couldn't force me to touch anyone's foot, even with this scalpel here."
Nelson snorted and walked over to clap Anthaniel's back, making him jump. "What about your own feet?"
Anthaniel arched away from Nelson's hand. "Duh, I have to rub soap all over them to keep them clean and shit."
Nelson withdrew his hand. "Sorry. Did Dean tell you what Clyde said? We're getting 'close' or suchlike."
Anthaniel froze and peeked his head out of the blanket again, shaking his head. "No. Dean and Clyde haven't told me shit." Pause. "Weird, considering I should be the one getting updates if anything."
"Hey, if we're in Paris who's going to pay attention?" Nelson shrugged and ran his hands through his hair, trying to work out some tangles. "City of Lights and Love..god, it sounds like a great place to frolic if you have a girlfriend."
"Not a wife?"
"No. Hawaii is the place to take a wife. Paris is for girlfriends."
"What's the difference?"
"The difference is..." With his brows furrowed together, Nelson shrugged again. "Heck if I know. Just doesn't feel like the right atmosphere."
"I think that's bullshit," Anthaniel rolled his eyes and recessed back underneath the blanket. "Why should a title change implicate any kind of atmosphere? That makes absolutely no sense. If I want to take my wife to Paris, I'll take my wife to goddamn Paris."
Nelson leaned over him with a sly, playful look. "You've got a wife?"
"Please," Anthaniel let out a snort. "Do I look like the kind of guy who'd want to get married?"
"Oh. No sense of commitment, then?"
"Fuck you, I have a great sense of commitment. But just like that whole Paris-Hawaii shit, I don't see why I'd need a ring to remind me I'm taken."
"Marriage, it's romantic!"
Anthaniel stopped to think. "That might be what it is."
"Not such an amorous lover, Anthan?"
"No. Maybe. I don't know, not really." Anthaniel touched the back of his neck, sighing. "I've been told by my exes that I'm a sweet boyfriend but, whatever, I don't know what that means."
"Sweet? I don't know. From the way you looked, I think you give off the impression of being a playboy or something. Wham-bam-thank-ya type of thing."
"That's gross. I can't even jack myself off and you presume that I'm a lady killer?"
"Seriously? What do you do when you get morning wood?"
Anthaniel sighed. "If you must know, I smoke it away."
Nelson paused, confused. "What? How?"
"First..." Anthaniel spoke slowly, sarcastically. "I light up a cigarette. And then..." Pause, this time with an appropriate gesture, sucking in air, "I puff."
"I don't get it."
"You don't know that smoking forces blood away from the site? Haven't you seen those movies where people smoke right away after getting laid?"
Nelson looked down, ashamed but enlightened. "No. I thought it was just a thing they did."
Anthaniel stared at him for a while longer before turning away. "Try not to be so naive. You won't make it if you readily accept what you see as 'just a thing' to do."
"Is that your new philosophy?"
"What?"
"Every time we talk, you always have something new or different to say. Does what you think depend on what you feel?"
Anthaniel took some time to think. ".. I don't know. Maybe. Is that surprising?"
"When people are in a bad mood, they're pessimistic. Likewise, when they're in a good mood, everything else is. But you warp out completely. Is that the identity crisis you were talking to me about before?"
"If it is, what's your verdict?"
"To be truthful, I still don't know who you are either. Sometimes I think you're fucking with me, other times it's really obvious that you actually are conflicted. So, in summation, I have no idea."
Anthaniel shrugged underneath the cloth. "Might be all this moving around. I'm fucking tired of not being able to settle down in one spot for at least a week. I don't know if Clyde's stalling or trying to disorient us or what, but if it's to irritate me he's doing a great job of it. What's the psychologist think?"
"He said he has no idea." Nelson shrugged a shoulder, glancing away. "He's not that kind of psychologist but he's guessing that because of Clyde's behavior, apparently he doesn't know what we're supposed to be doing either. Something like, shifting locations because of insecurity."
"Are you implying that while he's in charge of us, he's on the run?"
"I don't know, maybe. Could be. Don't tell me you haven't noticed that he's fidgety as hell."
"Have you noticed that for yourself?"
Nelson paused. "No. Dean told me."
"Well Nel, unless you're a shit-eater I don't want you spouting it back all out at me, alright? But yes, I've noticed the nervousness. I just thought it was because of me."
"What's he said about getting cocky?"
"Watch it. It's not like I meant to get egotistical about it. I just couldn't see any other explanation for him to be anxious other than I might take him out. You know, sacar la basura."
Nelson raised his eyebrows curiously. "That order was weird."
"It's just me talking." Anthaniel shrugged. "Don't you know Spanish, though?"
"Huh. How did you know that about me?"
"You.." Anthaniel sighed, and the blanket twitched as he moved to scratch his neck. "You kind of just told me. I was fucking around."
"Oh wow, you're an ass." Nelson sighed, and ran his fingers over his mouth thoughtfully. "Actually, maybe there is something I can confidently say about you, that's more or less consistent."
"There is no 'more or less consistent'. It's consistent or not. Otherwise, what does that even mean?"
"Consistent, then. Goddamn you're a stickler for proper English."
"No rush necessary, but you might want to throw your idea at me while I'm still listening. You've distracted me long enough from working on this."
"Well," Nelson started out with a gesture before wrinkling his nose. "You've got this air of confidence about you but it's really just a front. Like a game face. You've said so before, that you have so many different behaviors and they all depend on who you're with. So with me, you're snippy and coldly unfamiliar which makes me believe that the time you threw up, you still weren't exactly opening up. Right?"
"You could say that."
"I'm going to say that. It was a plea for help almost, but it felt more like a warning to me. You said you didn't know why you poured it all out to me but it still felt so filtered."
"Maybe I just needed someone to listen since I'm afraid of contacting someone else back home." Anthaniel held in a breath and released it as a sigh. "Because I really shouldn't have told you anything about myself."
"No, that's what I think is the confusing thing about it, though. I don't think you were telling me about yourself."
"Then..what the fuck was I talking about about 'me' this and 'me' that? I'm pretty sure I was..talking..about myself."
"You gave me the perception you have of yourself. I'm not saying you were bullshitting when you were talking about the multiple faces you have to wear or the whole thing about always being torn up all the time, but in the end that's not really you. Do you get what I'm driving at?"
"To be frank, no. I don't get what you're driving at. Please explain it to me."
"Everything you have to say about yourself is always bad, or 'hopeless' as you put it. You said you've got friends, and I think if that's true, there has to be something likable about you. So you can't be all bad. Your exes said that you're sweet."
Anthaniel tugged the blanket off his head and rubbed his eyes, shaking his head. "I don't know what they're talking about."
"You may not know, but personally I think I'll leave it to them to know what they're talking about. No one knows you better than you know yourself but at the same time, you're your own worst critic. You just..have this negative view of yourself. If I have any advice it's to work hard."
Anthaniel scowled immediately, demonstrating his displeasure at the offense. "What the fuck are you talking about and who the fuck do you think you are, telling me to work hard? I do work hard, you goddamn punk. You don't think I haven't achieved enough though I overwork already?"
"Calm down, calm down." Nelson held his hands up to surrender. "By 'work hard', I'm not talking about overworking or achieving anything. I don't know what it's like to be you nor can I even imagine it but I can sympathize, and all I'm telling you is to just try to keep your head up above the water. Things must be tough. I get you completely. But in spite of the difficulties, you've already gotten yourself pretty far so just keep going. You'll get there."
"I believe that was the point of that one conversation we had, Nel. Because where is 'there' exactly?"
"See, now that depends entirely on you. If you don't know the answers to your own questions, well, neither do I. But it's okay! No one knows where they're going to end up, or how. But somehow you look down on yourself when you've already built up a good reputation, and it's just weird you do that. Part of an identity crisis is you aren't who you think you are."
"Yeah, I've figured that already, genius."
"No, not like that." Nelson paused and rubbed his hand over his mouth. "You're confusing two separate things here and as a result you've mixed them into one. I guess what I'm trying to say is.. I don't think you're a bad man, Anthaniel. Honestly I don't. I just think you're an unhappy one."
Anthaniel stared at him blankly, almost with a thankless look.
Nelson chewed down his lip and waved it off.
"i'll let you get back to your work now."
Anthaniel remained hunched with his head underneath the blanket, working on something in his lap. "The abuse of greatness is when it disjoins remorse from power."
"I'm going to pull that blanket away if you don't tell me right now," Nelson folded his arms in an attempt to appear threatening.
"Shakespeare." Anthaniel paused and shook the blanket carefully off his head, looking ruffled. "So help me God, if you expose my work, I will shove this scalpel through your eye and tickle the frontal lobe of your brain."
"What the fuck are you doing with a scalpel? Not cutting yourself, are you?" Nelson gestured to his arm. "If you're doing to do that, remember that it's down the road; don't go across the street."
"As though I'd really do that to myself just now. I'm trying to work something out one of my laptop parts."
"That requires privacy?"
"Yeah. I make a really intense face when I'm focusing on something, and I'd rather not have any of you assholes break my concentration."
Nelson paused. "Oh. I thought you were going to say 'I didn't want any of you looking and making fun of my work face' or something."
"Well, that too." Anthaniel pulled the blanket back over his head. "So what's up? Need something?"
"That depends, how good are you at massaging people's feet?"
"Feet are nasty. You couldn't force me to touch anyone's foot, even with this scalpel here."
Nelson snorted and walked over to clap Anthaniel's back, making him jump. "What about your own feet?"
Anthaniel arched away from Nelson's hand. "Duh, I have to rub soap all over them to keep them clean and shit."
Nelson withdrew his hand. "Sorry. Did Dean tell you what Clyde said? We're getting 'close' or suchlike."
Anthaniel froze and peeked his head out of the blanket again, shaking his head. "No. Dean and Clyde haven't told me shit." Pause. "Weird, considering I should be the one getting updates if anything."
"Hey, if we're in Paris who's going to pay attention?" Nelson shrugged and ran his hands through his hair, trying to work out some tangles. "City of Lights and Love..god, it sounds like a great place to frolic if you have a girlfriend."
"Not a wife?"
"No. Hawaii is the place to take a wife. Paris is for girlfriends."
"What's the difference?"
"The difference is..." With his brows furrowed together, Nelson shrugged again. "Heck if I know. Just doesn't feel like the right atmosphere."
"I think that's bullshit," Anthaniel rolled his eyes and recessed back underneath the blanket. "Why should a title change implicate any kind of atmosphere? That makes absolutely no sense. If I want to take my wife to Paris, I'll take my wife to goddamn Paris."
Nelson leaned over him with a sly, playful look. "You've got a wife?"
"Please," Anthaniel let out a snort. "Do I look like the kind of guy who'd want to get married?"
"Oh. No sense of commitment, then?"
"Fuck you, I have a great sense of commitment. But just like that whole Paris-Hawaii shit, I don't see why I'd need a ring to remind me I'm taken."
"Marriage, it's romantic!"
Anthaniel stopped to think. "That might be what it is."
"Not such an amorous lover, Anthan?"
"No. Maybe. I don't know, not really." Anthaniel touched the back of his neck, sighing. "I've been told by my exes that I'm a sweet boyfriend but, whatever, I don't know what that means."
"Sweet? I don't know. From the way you looked, I think you give off the impression of being a playboy or something. Wham-bam-thank-ya type of thing."
"That's gross. I can't even jack myself off and you presume that I'm a lady killer?"
"Seriously? What do you do when you get morning wood?"
Anthaniel sighed. "If you must know, I smoke it away."
Nelson paused, confused. "What? How?"
"First..." Anthaniel spoke slowly, sarcastically. "I light up a cigarette. And then..." Pause, this time with an appropriate gesture, sucking in air, "I puff."
"I don't get it."
"You don't know that smoking forces blood away from the site? Haven't you seen those movies where people smoke right away after getting laid?"
Nelson looked down, ashamed but enlightened. "No. I thought it was just a thing they did."
Anthaniel stared at him for a while longer before turning away. "Try not to be so naive. You won't make it if you readily accept what you see as 'just a thing' to do."
"Is that your new philosophy?"
"What?"
"Every time we talk, you always have something new or different to say. Does what you think depend on what you feel?"
Anthaniel took some time to think. ".. I don't know. Maybe. Is that surprising?"
"When people are in a bad mood, they're pessimistic. Likewise, when they're in a good mood, everything else is. But you warp out completely. Is that the identity crisis you were talking to me about before?"
"If it is, what's your verdict?"
"To be truthful, I still don't know who you are either. Sometimes I think you're fucking with me, other times it's really obvious that you actually are conflicted. So, in summation, I have no idea."
Anthaniel shrugged underneath the cloth. "Might be all this moving around. I'm fucking tired of not being able to settle down in one spot for at least a week. I don't know if Clyde's stalling or trying to disorient us or what, but if it's to irritate me he's doing a great job of it. What's the psychologist think?"
"He said he has no idea." Nelson shrugged a shoulder, glancing away. "He's not that kind of psychologist but he's guessing that because of Clyde's behavior, apparently he doesn't know what we're supposed to be doing either. Something like, shifting locations because of insecurity."
"Are you implying that while he's in charge of us, he's on the run?"
"I don't know, maybe. Could be. Don't tell me you haven't noticed that he's fidgety as hell."
"Have you noticed that for yourself?"
Nelson paused. "No. Dean told me."
"Well Nel, unless you're a shit-eater I don't want you spouting it back all out at me, alright? But yes, I've noticed the nervousness. I just thought it was because of me."
"What's he said about getting cocky?"
"Watch it. It's not like I meant to get egotistical about it. I just couldn't see any other explanation for him to be anxious other than I might take him out. You know, sacar la basura."
Nelson raised his eyebrows curiously. "That order was weird."
"It's just me talking." Anthaniel shrugged. "Don't you know Spanish, though?"
"Huh. How did you know that about me?"
"You.." Anthaniel sighed, and the blanket twitched as he moved to scratch his neck. "You kind of just told me. I was fucking around."
"Oh wow, you're an ass." Nelson sighed, and ran his fingers over his mouth thoughtfully. "Actually, maybe there is something I can confidently say about you, that's more or less consistent."
"There is no 'more or less consistent'. It's consistent or not. Otherwise, what does that even mean?"
"Consistent, then. Goddamn you're a stickler for proper English."
"No rush necessary, but you might want to throw your idea at me while I'm still listening. You've distracted me long enough from working on this."
"Well," Nelson started out with a gesture before wrinkling his nose. "You've got this air of confidence about you but it's really just a front. Like a game face. You've said so before, that you have so many different behaviors and they all depend on who you're with. So with me, you're snippy and coldly unfamiliar which makes me believe that the time you threw up, you still weren't exactly opening up. Right?"
"You could say that."
"I'm going to say that. It was a plea for help almost, but it felt more like a warning to me. You said you didn't know why you poured it all out to me but it still felt so filtered."
"Maybe I just needed someone to listen since I'm afraid of contacting someone else back home." Anthaniel held in a breath and released it as a sigh. "Because I really shouldn't have told you anything about myself."
"No, that's what I think is the confusing thing about it, though. I don't think you were telling me about yourself."
"Then..what the fuck was I talking about about 'me' this and 'me' that? I'm pretty sure I was..talking..about myself."
"You gave me the perception you have of yourself. I'm not saying you were bullshitting when you were talking about the multiple faces you have to wear or the whole thing about always being torn up all the time, but in the end that's not really you. Do you get what I'm driving at?"
"To be frank, no. I don't get what you're driving at. Please explain it to me."
"Everything you have to say about yourself is always bad, or 'hopeless' as you put it. You said you've got friends, and I think if that's true, there has to be something likable about you. So you can't be all bad. Your exes said that you're sweet."
Anthaniel tugged the blanket off his head and rubbed his eyes, shaking his head. "I don't know what they're talking about."
"You may not know, but personally I think I'll leave it to them to know what they're talking about. No one knows you better than you know yourself but at the same time, you're your own worst critic. You just..have this negative view of yourself. If I have any advice it's to work hard."
Anthaniel scowled immediately, demonstrating his displeasure at the offense. "What the fuck are you talking about and who the fuck do you think you are, telling me to work hard? I do work hard, you goddamn punk. You don't think I haven't achieved enough though I overwork already?"
"Calm down, calm down." Nelson held his hands up to surrender. "By 'work hard', I'm not talking about overworking or achieving anything. I don't know what it's like to be you nor can I even imagine it but I can sympathize, and all I'm telling you is to just try to keep your head up above the water. Things must be tough. I get you completely. But in spite of the difficulties, you've already gotten yourself pretty far so just keep going. You'll get there."
"I believe that was the point of that one conversation we had, Nel. Because where is 'there' exactly?"
"See, now that depends entirely on you. If you don't know the answers to your own questions, well, neither do I. But it's okay! No one knows where they're going to end up, or how. But somehow you look down on yourself when you've already built up a good reputation, and it's just weird you do that. Part of an identity crisis is you aren't who you think you are."
"Yeah, I've figured that already, genius."
"No, not like that." Nelson paused and rubbed his hand over his mouth. "You're confusing two separate things here and as a result you've mixed them into one. I guess what I'm trying to say is.. I don't think you're a bad man, Anthaniel. Honestly I don't. I just think you're an unhappy one."
Anthaniel stared at him blankly, almost with a thankless look.
Nelson chewed down his lip and waved it off.
"i'll let you get back to your work now."