Cuervo: Wishful Thinking

Cuervos de la Cruz Vol. 1

Written by

K.D Howard

I: Wishful Thinking pt. 1

Her phone is ringing off the hook. She’s in bed. It’s past midnight. No way in Hell is she going to answer that damn thing. (The Devil can flap his wings by himself in that frozen room.) Her usual bedtime is 7:30 pm (8:15 pm on a good day).

On those good day she sleeps a bit past the twilight’s cascade of dual lights cleave together into a warmer portrait of dusk…

…to be honest her preferred bedtime is further past twilight; when dusk comes and goes and in that transient moment, night falls in its wake and envelops the sky in darkness. In this nocturne scene the moon emerges from the shadow clouds and with her light (borrowed from the sun) the moon provides light as some slumber and the rest get together at their favorite haunts.

Will those slumbering blissfully see another sunrise?

Will those who traverse in the moon’s silver light make it back safely? Will they tuck themselves in bed and join those already slumbering blissfully?

Will they also see the next sunrise? Only God knows…

…but this phone and its incessant noise.

God that wretched noise of a high pitched death cry begging to be put out of its misery.

The young woman groans and stops counting the calls she ignores. She hasn’t even made a single wink yet.

(Is the caller some sort of phone jockey at the bottom of a telemarketing-pyramid scheme!?? )

She’s frustrated beyond the threshold a frustrated maiden can get…

…especially that fabled maiden stirred from slumber by the lump of the proverbial pea, under the maiden’s stacked mattresses, who too couldn’t sleep.

The young woman grips the bridge of her nose and pinches it. Her slumberless fatigue furthers her frustration…

…but all of a sudden… the phone stops ringing.

…did it really work?

The ancient method of refusing an act but instead invoking the opposite effect?

Regardless of its effect, the young woman breathes a well earned sigh; tosses her head back onto her pillow… and smiles victorously.

A delayed victory, yes, but at last she can join the dreamers dreaming dreams for what’s left of this Nocturne’s bliss.

She makes a second wink following the well deserved first wink.

“Ring ring…Ring ring…”

Oh shit…

…there it goes again…

Once again the nightmare resumes

Just when she was about to get some shuteye, the damn phone is ringing again; God damn it! The phone is ringing again!! Whoever this caller is, they're persistent… frustratingly persistent pissants now the bane to the young woman’s existience.

Whoever’s responsible they should know they already made that special spot on ‘the list’. Guess she’ll just have to add a gold star next to this caller’s entry on her “special” list;

Against her better judgement. Against all things Holy. The young woman snatches the receiver off the base. She’s more than ready to unload unholy hell upon this dastardly bastard…

It doesn’t take long for her to muster the necessary words… her only requisite is vexation. All of it. Every last bit of it. Nobody will be spared.

“Who in the hell is this! Do you realize what time it is!??”

“...Giselle, you are as feisty as ever.”

His all too familiar voice leaves her frozen like a deer caught in headlights. Vexation? No way. Trepidation courses through her very veins.

“Lazaros!… no way…is it really you… Lazaros Cuervos!!?”

(Who the hell is Lazaros Cuervos?)

*** *** ***

II: Wishful Thinking pt. 2

“Lazaros!… no way…is it really you… Lazaros Cuervos!!?”

“...yeah… it’s me Giselle,” “I spent more than five dollars' worth of change to reach you. I’m glad to hear your voice again.”

“...Lazaros…”.

Giselle ’s second response is but a whisper; that deer is still frozen in those headlights.

“...Hey listen, Giselle …I’m sorry for calling you like this.”

“...”

“Giselle…?”

The deer charges…

“Lazaros… Where in the hell have you been!!?”

Lazaros chuckles. “Feisty as ever.”

“Don’t piss me off Lazaros! Answer my damn question!!”

“…I guess you can say I’ve been finding myself.”

“Finding yourself!? Go look in the mirror if you want to find yourself, Lazaro!!”

“The last I heard about you dropped out of school and started crashing from couch to couch!”

Lazaros sighs. “If you want to call it that then I yeah I’ve been crashing from couch to couch… but in between, I was making money from street fighting. all over Texas and Mexico.”

“What!! Street Fighting!!?”

“ I made muy mucho dinero!! Also I want to take a shot at being a professional Fighter.”

Giselle breathes an aggravated sigh.

“Cut the crap Lazaros, you were close to graduating; You only had a semester left. Nobody wanted to see you fail Lazaros nor did they want you to drop out just because you want to become a street fighter!!

“…Lazaros, it's already been three years since you dropped out of school. You’re not a teenager anymore, Chico. You don’t even have a high school diploma. How are you going to make it in life, Lazaro?”

“There are many ways to succeed in life, Giselle, and there is only one road to failure… Once I turned my back to academics, I accepted failure as a scholar and walked on the path to failure. I just upped and left the classroom, I left out of the school building, and I didn’t stop until I was off the campus. I didn’t bother to take a single look back. I just hopped on my motorcycle and took off.

“Sounds more like running away to me, Lazaros.”

“Giselle, I couldn’t give a dirty rat’s ass about all that academic stuff. Even if I didn't drop out and continued to pursue a college education, and get that Masters Degree in World Literature I’ve always wanted, all of that crap is just wishful thinking and the whole high school experience is just a bunch of dead memories. Now”

“You can’t be serious, Lazaros… do you hear that nonsense you’re spouting? For Christ’s Sake, what was the time you spent with me and our friends!? I mean, we spent late nights into the early morning cramming all of that school work with our friends, going to late night parties. Friday Light Nights and Track Meets with the crowds pumping and going wild for the final relay events!! All of that and passing midterms and finals!! You're going to dismiss our memories as wishful thinking!!?”

“...”

“You don’t mean that do you Lazaros”

“...”

“Bastardo! Answer me!!”

“All of what we and the gang have been through is not wishful thinking. It’s far from it.”

“... then what was it to you, Lazaros?

“...my time with you and our friends was an experience worth more than a lifetime…something I can do all over again.”

A hush suddenly befalls the two.

A lone tear streak across Giselle’s face: like a shooting star granting someone’s wish.

“And here I am, with this rant in my head. I considered unloading on you. Damn you Lazaros Cuervos!!”

From Giselle’s end of the line Lazaros can hear faint sniveling.

As always…He knows what to say.

“...Oye, no te preocupes por eso, Giselle. Te amo mucha chicha.”

Lazaros’s calming words and suave yet gruff accent soothes and calms Giselle.

“Lazaros?

“Yes Giselle?”

“...so about this MMA stuff. I still think it’s not for you. You have brains Chico… but not for you to get them smashed in.

“Giselle, my mind is made up about this and I promise you that they won’t get smashed in.

“...”

“Giselle..?”

“Where are you now, Lazaros?

“…I’m outside the Texaco near the train tracks running parallel to Mykawa Rd.”

“...stay put! I’m coming to pick your sorry ass up!”

The call ends.

Lazaros breathes an anxious sigh and hangs the receiver back on the payphone's hook.

He reaches into his pocket. He still has some change left…

… oddly enough it’s enough for another call.

Lazaros breathes steadily as the conversation he just had with Giselle fades into time…

Memories are ephemeral phenomena. Transient as they are, yet they subsist by linking together one after another. As moments expire, one after another, more memories join together.

Memories traverse, to and fro, their beaten path from the present to the past. Upon the whim of the mind they are summoned. Memories are echoes from the past.

Memories are reminders of follies past…

...lest the present unravels itself only to hasten itself to oblivion.

And thus repeating past follies.