Hunting for Abel
Sep. 16th, 2009 07:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
danalwynJust an idea that popped in my head not long ago. I didn't have anything better to do with it, so I wrote it down here. I don't know if I'll do anything with it (I doubt it), but would anyone bother reading a novel that started like this?
The only reason that Jessica remembered Abel at all, those few times when she did remember him, was because of the present he had given her. It had been their last day at the University, the day when they were still half giddy from the fact that they were now graduated, and in many cases, suffering from hangovers. There were a few moments when they had all collided together, in a last minute flurry of hugs, and whispered good-byes, and the promises to visit half made in thee expectation they would be broken.
Abel had been handing out gifts, to all of them, something that had surprised Jessica, although in retrospect, it really should not have given his character; that was something she did remember, that he was always doing little things for people, and that he was extraordinarily free with money when it involved someone who was not him. He had given different gifts for everyone, small things; for Alice a set of shot glasses, which Jessica had helped put to good use, for David a complete works of Tennyson, and for her there had been a framed photograph of all of them, all the friends from her freshman year, in a group in front of the library, enclosed in a black frame. It fit her perfectly, her dormitory, cramped and crowded as it was, tended to be even more so from the huge collection of photographs that accumulated on her desk. She remembered a little flutter in her chest, not of love, but of gratitude, and the accompanying embarrassment that she had nothing to give him but a hug, and a promise that she would come see him some day, a promise that slowly faded from mind.
Abel was easy to find in the photograph; he was the tallest of them all, towering over the rest of them, not so much from pure height, but more, Jessica vaguely remembered, because he was standing on something. He had his arms spread out and was leaning forward, leaning over them until it could truly be said that he was draped over the back row, or perhaps more that he was the background to the picture. He had not been an outgoing boy, that much Jessica remembered, although other details about him seemed remarkably vague. He had just been, well, sort of there, there was a definite presence about him, like if she put her memories into photographs and managed to look at the corner of the picture there he would be, hiding in the periphery, invisible to all but the faint perception of motion. He was one of those people who was just kind of there, who, when you recited who was there you would add, at the end, "Oh, and Abel was there". An afterthought. Looking at the picture, sometimes Jessica wondered if they had meant much more to him then he to they, and felt vaguely sorry for that.
Two years after graduating, once most of the emotions and brief promises of graduation were forgotten, she would have left his memory behind as well, except for the photograph, and the phone call that came unexpectedly one evening. It came on her cell phone, and she had to suppress some surprise when she saw the name calling her.
"Jessica, it's Abel," his voice was deep, deeper then the non-descript nothing she remembered, and carefully enunciated, each word being so important to require its own independent diction.
She had given him some sort of standard greeting. About how she was surprised to hear from him, and really glad to hear from him, and basically doing everything but wondering openly why she was hearing from him. Then things had gotten weird.
"Do you remember me?" he had asked. There was an urgency in that, the words bunched up all together, running into each other despite the fact that each one was perfectly clear.
"Of course I remember you," she said, quickly omitting any reference to how much she remembered him. Searching for something to say, wondering what she should give as a memory. Finally she answered his earnestness with the only thing that came to eye, "I still have that picture you gave me on my mantle."
"Good," he sounded relieved, "It's important that you remember me. And thank you."
With that he had hung up, leaving Jessica staring, a bit puzzled, at her phone. It was entirely possible, she later supposed, that he had been what was politely termed Under the Influence, possibly of some illegal narcotic, and had simply pushed down her contact info and called her by accident. That was the best explanation she could come up with later, and even if it did not sound like some of the drug-induced stupors she knew, she was hardly an expert. But she put it out of her mind.
And it stayed out of her mind, except for brief interludes, usually while dusting the mantle, for three more years, until she met Scott. Scott was cute, in a plain sort of way, and he had good taste in restaurants. He was a worker at the Fremont Laboratory, right down the street from where her apartment was, and they had met over coffee one day, at the chain store on the corner. He was nothing like Abel, in fact there was no connection between them at all, until the Friday evening when she had brought him back to her apartment.
She had finished throwing a few stacks of ads off of her couch, so that they had somewhere to sit, when she noticed that he was standing, fascinated, by the pictures on her mantle. At first she thought he was engaged in guessing who her parents were, and which ones were her ex-boyfriends, but he stood there just a bit too long. She came over to him and noticed that his eyes were not moving, instead they were fixed on just one point on the mantle.
"What is it?" she asked.
Scott's finger stabbed out accusingly towards the picture Abel had given her, coming to rest on Abel himself.
"You know Abel?" she asked, questioningly.
"That man doesn't exist," he said, and his voice was distant, impossibly distant and remote, each word lacking any possible semblance of emotion, every muscle on his face slack. It was almost as if someone had reached inside and turned him off.
"Excuse me?" Jessica asked, wondering if she had finally found the weird part of this particular guy.
Scott's voice now had an emotion now, indignation, but his face was still blank. Only that accusing finger was lively as it jabbed at the photograph, "That man can't exist. He's not allowed to."
The only reason that Jessica remembered Abel at all, those few times when she did remember him, was because of the present he had given her. It had been their last day at the University, the day when they were still half giddy from the fact that they were now graduated, and in many cases, suffering from hangovers. There were a few moments when they had all collided together, in a last minute flurry of hugs, and whispered good-byes, and the promises to visit half made in thee expectation they would be broken.
Abel had been handing out gifts, to all of them, something that had surprised Jessica, although in retrospect, it really should not have given his character; that was something she did remember, that he was always doing little things for people, and that he was extraordinarily free with money when it involved someone who was not him. He had given different gifts for everyone, small things; for Alice a set of shot glasses, which Jessica had helped put to good use, for David a complete works of Tennyson, and for her there had been a framed photograph of all of them, all the friends from her freshman year, in a group in front of the library, enclosed in a black frame. It fit her perfectly, her dormitory, cramped and crowded as it was, tended to be even more so from the huge collection of photographs that accumulated on her desk. She remembered a little flutter in her chest, not of love, but of gratitude, and the accompanying embarrassment that she had nothing to give him but a hug, and a promise that she would come see him some day, a promise that slowly faded from mind.
Abel was easy to find in the photograph; he was the tallest of them all, towering over the rest of them, not so much from pure height, but more, Jessica vaguely remembered, because he was standing on something. He had his arms spread out and was leaning forward, leaning over them until it could truly be said that he was draped over the back row, or perhaps more that he was the background to the picture. He had not been an outgoing boy, that much Jessica remembered, although other details about him seemed remarkably vague. He had just been, well, sort of there, there was a definite presence about him, like if she put her memories into photographs and managed to look at the corner of the picture there he would be, hiding in the periphery, invisible to all but the faint perception of motion. He was one of those people who was just kind of there, who, when you recited who was there you would add, at the end, "Oh, and Abel was there". An afterthought. Looking at the picture, sometimes Jessica wondered if they had meant much more to him then he to they, and felt vaguely sorry for that.
Two years after graduating, once most of the emotions and brief promises of graduation were forgotten, she would have left his memory behind as well, except for the photograph, and the phone call that came unexpectedly one evening. It came on her cell phone, and she had to suppress some surprise when she saw the name calling her.
"Jessica, it's Abel," his voice was deep, deeper then the non-descript nothing she remembered, and carefully enunciated, each word being so important to require its own independent diction.
She had given him some sort of standard greeting. About how she was surprised to hear from him, and really glad to hear from him, and basically doing everything but wondering openly why she was hearing from him. Then things had gotten weird.
"Do you remember me?" he had asked. There was an urgency in that, the words bunched up all together, running into each other despite the fact that each one was perfectly clear.
"Of course I remember you," she said, quickly omitting any reference to how much she remembered him. Searching for something to say, wondering what she should give as a memory. Finally she answered his earnestness with the only thing that came to eye, "I still have that picture you gave me on my mantle."
"Good," he sounded relieved, "It's important that you remember me. And thank you."
With that he had hung up, leaving Jessica staring, a bit puzzled, at her phone. It was entirely possible, she later supposed, that he had been what was politely termed Under the Influence, possibly of some illegal narcotic, and had simply pushed down her contact info and called her by accident. That was the best explanation she could come up with later, and even if it did not sound like some of the drug-induced stupors she knew, she was hardly an expert. But she put it out of her mind.
And it stayed out of her mind, except for brief interludes, usually while dusting the mantle, for three more years, until she met Scott. Scott was cute, in a plain sort of way, and he had good taste in restaurants. He was a worker at the Fremont Laboratory, right down the street from where her apartment was, and they had met over coffee one day, at the chain store on the corner. He was nothing like Abel, in fact there was no connection between them at all, until the Friday evening when she had brought him back to her apartment.
She had finished throwing a few stacks of ads off of her couch, so that they had somewhere to sit, when she noticed that he was standing, fascinated, by the pictures on her mantle. At first she thought he was engaged in guessing who her parents were, and which ones were her ex-boyfriends, but he stood there just a bit too long. She came over to him and noticed that his eyes were not moving, instead they were fixed on just one point on the mantle.
"What is it?" she asked.
Scott's finger stabbed out accusingly towards the picture Abel had given her, coming to rest on Abel himself.
"You know Abel?" she asked, questioningly.
"That man doesn't exist," he said, and his voice was distant, impossibly distant and remote, each word lacking any possible semblance of emotion, every muscle on his face slack. It was almost as if someone had reached inside and turned him off.
"Excuse me?" Jessica asked, wondering if she had finally found the weird part of this particular guy.
Scott's voice now had an emotion now, indignation, but his face was still blank. Only that accusing finger was lively as it jabbed at the photograph, "That man can't exist. He's not allowed to."
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Date: 2009-09-17 05:55 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-17 08:17 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-17 08:38 pm (UTC)