Marculations

I thought it’d be fun to post the alternate ending to “The Unfortunate Engagement”. It would’ve been instead of the actual part 8.

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The blow to the head crushed John’s skull, killing him in a matter of seconds.

At least, it felt like that had just happened. Or maybe he just wished it would have happened — it would probably hurt less. After a few seconds of throbbing pain, though, it seemed unlikely that he was dead. He struggled to remember what happened. Where was he? What’s going on? The light struck his eyes through their barely-opened lids, giving him a nausea not unlike the time he’d gone deep sea fishing.

A pair of lips pressed lightly against his cheek. His eyes sprung open, and darted around frantically. The ceiling fan spun slowly overhead. He focused on it, confused. Had he imagined that?

“Hey, stud. Are you back with us?” It was Tiffany’s voice. He turned his head slightly, and realized she was kneeling down on the floor next to him, where the table had been. “That was quite the little spill you took.”

“Yeah, I uh, I don’t know what happened. I guess I blacked out.” His voice was cracked and strained. His throat was sandpaper. A small scouting expedition was lost in the vast desert of his tongue. Carefully, he tried to work up some saliva. It was not to be. “I think I need a glass of water.”

“Sure, hon.” Tiffany smiled and leaned over him. His entire body tensed up. She leaned down towards him. This was it. Finally. Oh my god. The kiss. It was actually going to happen. What about Joey? No, forget that. Put that thought right out. There is no Joey. There never has been. There is no concept of it. There’s no apartment, no job, no city, and no past or future. There is just this moment. It’s time to stop thinking about everything but now, and focus on making something happen.

John lifted his head, closed his eyes, and pressed his lips against Tiffany’s. They were warm, and moist — a stark contrast to his own. They were also quick to depart. He felt her jerk her head back. He heard her gasp. He reminded himself that he had never even been deep sea fishing. He opened his eyes, witnessed her shocked, confused expression, and became painfully aware of the fact that there was a city, and there was an apartment, and yes, oh yes, there was a Joey.

“John, I, what, uh…” She sat back on her legs, and stared down at him. John sighed and rolled his head to one side. What the hell had just happened? He struggled to understand what could’ve caused him to kiss her. It must have seemed like that would be appropriate. He couldn’t remember. Had she leaned in? Or had he leaned up towards her? He had to get his story straight before he said anything to her. He had to figure this out. His case had to be airtight.

“Is he awake?” No. No. Not Joey. That couldn’t have been Joey. He’s not here.

“Joey! Uh! Yes! He just woke up! I was going to get him some water!” Tiffany leapt to her feet, and briskly moved towards the kitchen. John struggled to get to his feet as well. He looked up and saw Joey moving towards him.

“What happened, man? Are you okay?” He flopped down on the couch. John managed to stand, but quickly fell down onto the opposite corner of the couch from Joey.

“I guess I blacked out. I haven’t been sleeping much. Been sitting around drinking all night.” John chuckled at himself. He glanced past Joey at the door to the kitchen. He knew that any second, Tiffany was going to emerge, and explain what had just happened. His brain quietly collaborated with both of his legs to figure out a plan for escape.

“You’re an alcoholic.”

“I guess so.” Only a few obstacles between him and the door — some shoes, and the table that he’d banged his head on. Tiffany must have moved it over there. John wagered he should try to come up with a reason for casually moving them out of the way.

Tiffany walked into the room, glass of water in hand. She reached down and held it out to John. He stared at it for a moment, then took it, avoiding eye contact with Tiffany. She stood up and looked around. Joey looked between them. John sipped his water nervously.

“Too good to sit with us, Tiff?” Joey chuckled at his own joke.

“I thought we could all go to dinner. If John is feeling okay.” John began chugging his water.

“Let’s do it. I’m starving. Hey, we can go to that restaurant you and John ate at.”

John looked at Tiffany. She looked back at him, then looked away. He sighed, and knew there was no way around this. They were all going to go to dinner together. And they were going to talk, and tell jokes, and laugh, and have a good time.

It could be worse, John thought. She could’ve kissed him.

Tags: Narratives

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