She’s looked at me and smiled.
Smiled. Right.
And then it’s hit me.
When she’s looked at you and smiled.
Yeah. And it’s not the first time.
It’s not?
No. We’ve talked about this before, remember?
So what did you do then?
What? When?
When she looked at you and smiled.
You know what happened then.
What?
I went over and spoke to her. I told you this at the time.
Congratulations.
Thanks. For what.
For taking her to bed.
What? Thanks.
You’re welcome.
Wait, how did you-
Though clearly not as welcome as she was.
How did you know we went to bed?
Really?
Yes.
Because you always take them to bed.
I do?
Yes.
Well, yes, I suppose I do. But that’s not important.
It might be to them.
No, you’re missing the point.
I mean, I know they say women have different moral structures to men, but still.
No, listen, that’s not what I meant.
What was it he said in Casablanca?
Of course it was important. Wait, who?
You know, the smooth policeman.
You’re not listening.
Gasteau, was it?
Are you listening?
It was something French anyway. Lieutenant something.
You mean Renault? Captain Renault.
Yes, that’s him. Good memory, dude.
What can I say, I fucking love that movie. Wait… what’re you doing now?
I’m looking up his line on the internet.
What? No, listen. You need to listen to me.
Lay off, man. You’ll knock my drink over.
Seriously-
Oh, here it is.
I’m trying to tell you this-
‘How extravagant you are, Rick, throwing away women like that. Someday they may be scarce.’
…may be scarce, yeah. Great line.
Great movie.
Fucking great movie. Your French stinks, by the way.
S’what being French is.
Very good. Anyway, listen, you’re not listening to me.
I am.
You’re not.
I am. She looked at you and then you fucked her.
…
What did I miss?
You’re so fucking funny. Reductionist shit.
What did I miss? Tell me!
Right listen, so she’s looked at me and smiled, right?
Yeah, we’ve established that.
And then I’ve walked over and started talking to her. And as I’m doing it… bam!
Bam.
Bam!
Bam?
Yeah. BAM! I’m like Stephen Strange, I’ve been knocked clean outta my body. I’m a ghost looking down at the two of us talking.
Outta your body?
Yeah. I mean I’m watching this and I know I’ve been there before.
So déjà vu as well?
That too.
No, wait, it’s out of body or déjà vu? You just described both.
Yeah, both.
You can’t have both.
Well apparently you can.
Greedy.
And I start thinking.
Greedy and dangerous.
I know what this is. I’ve felt this before.
You’ve felt it before? When?
State final, two thousand seven.
Really?
Hundred percent.
This one’s new. Color me intrigued.
I know, right, I never told this to anyone.
They are both yours. Explain.
So it’s two hours to kick off and I’m hanging out in the changing room with a few of the senior players – the ones that have a football scholarship nailed down – and we’re laughing and joking about how this is our last time playing High School ball, and we’re all kinda bummed about that, but no one is letting on, because we’re bigger than this shit now, right?
Right.
And the same thing happens. Bam! I get sideswiped. I’ve been here before. Next thing I know I’m outta my body, looking down.
Déjà vu uber alles.
For real.
And?
And… well what happened next?
Remind me.
Second quarter, I get folded by their tight end and my Achilles pops like a cheerleaders waistband. Career over. Scholarship gone. Game over. Year later I’m studying plumbing in EdTech.
S’what are you saying?
I’m saying it means something.
Means something.
I looked it up. Some folks think déjà vu is your brain outta whack, like it’s processing memories or some shit, but I don’t buy that.
You don’t?
No, I think it’s a precursor.
A precursor?
Yeah, it’s the universe letting you know that your life’s about to hit a junction.
A junction.
Exactly.
And at this junction, can you choose your direction?
Who knows? Maybe. Maybe not.
So déjà vu is a signpost.
S’right, a message from God.
A message-? Wow. That escalated.
And it’s his way of letting me know that she’s the one.
She’s the one.
S’right.
…
Whaddya think?
What do I think?
Yeah.
I think you need to lay off the coke, man.
Editorial
I’m sure this is not a wholly original idea, but it’s one that occurred to me recently. I was recalling events leading up to a (potentially) life changing incident and one of them happened to be déjà vu. Naturally I couldn’t simply accept that our existence is nothing more than a series of random events, and so instead tried to make order and sense of it. This was the result.
Be nice if it were true. Maybe.
Anyway, the style is a direct influence from Stella Maris, Cormac McCarthy’s latest. An extremely thought provoking book that I’m not sure deserves recommendation… yet.
The scenario would have come from a lecture that I was listening to recently on the philosophies of Jung and Peters. Sounds pretentious, I know, but it really wasn’t. Jordan Peterson relates the theories to Disney’s The Lion King, in particular the time in Simba’s life when he leaves warthog and meercat and – gulp – meets a woman and becomes a man.
Disney, Peterson, and McCarthy. Now there’s weird brew.
Pl@tpav - Telling Stories 