Faraway Eyes

Once bread becomes toast,

it can never become bread again.

Once you've made a mistake, you look at that moment.

You think of everything

that you could have done differently,

but that moment is gone.

Every yes instead of no, every left instead of right.

My life could have changed.

Like, I had this cute redhead crush from my art class

named Stephanie handcuffed to my bedpost

at my parents' house.

I couldn't have been a day over 16, and she was older.

I know because she drove us there.

And...

Redheads were like this county fair cotton candy.

It started as a joke, really.

I had these handcuffs that I lost the key to,

but I taught myself how to pick them.

Well, the truth is, I had no idea

what to do with a hot girl.

I thought I did, and handcuffs were like

these dirty-sounding things for some reason.

Anyway, I've got this hot redhead

chained to my bed,

And I slowly work up the nerve,

not to kiss her like some smooth guy,

but to dive headlong into taking her shirt off,

button by button,

like the greatest Christmas present

a Jewish boy ever had.

And I'm just hypnotized by these sweet little bubblegum

pink nipples that are so hard, they're ready to bounce off

these milky white, slightly tan,

lightly freckled titties

that are pointing up towards the sky.

Ahh.

So I move in slowly, just planning my attack,

thinking about everything I'm gonna do,

each button closer,

like my life is going to spring forward

into having meaning for the first time,

because as far as I know,

I'm about to bang the shit out of this really hot redhead.

Every American boy's dream.

And then I hear my parents' car crunching gravel outside.

Then I hear my sister's voice

calling as she's coming up the stairs.

Now, have you ever tried to pick a tiny handcuff lock

while you have a raging boner

and thinking about where you're gonna hide a hot redhead?

I tell you, it can't be done.

So, my sister comes barreling up the stairs,

tries to walk in,

and I jam the door shut with my foot.

But it's too late. She can already see

the pair of feet that are tied to the bed.

It's not like she doesn't know I have a girl in my room

or that she doesn't recognize the car outside, right?

So, she is such a tattletale.

She runs downstairs, yells to my mother,

"Michael's got Stephanie tied to his bed,

and he won't open the door."

Stephanie is just mortified and freaked out.

I think about every little thing

that I could have done differently

not to get caught, but...

you know, there's no choice,

and it's not I can jump out of the window.

So I throw on my jeans. I go downstairs.

Stephanie waits upstairs.

I see my parents at the dining table

in their swivel chairs

like some job interview.

They're just shaking their disappointed mom and dad heads.

I don't deny anything because, you know, what's the point?

I just wait for the hammer to drop.

Wait for them to start screaming and shouting.

But after a long, awkward silence,

you know what they do?

They look at each other, they look at me.

My mom reaches into her purse and grabs $10

and tells me to take Stephanie to Burger King.

Could have been a fucking commercial from Burger King,

come to think of it.

Michael, tell me what happened.

So I took her to Burger King.

- I'm sorry? - What?

- I need you to listen to me. - Okay.

I'm going to have to cut you off.

You're not listening to me.

Focus.

I'm sorry, what was the question?

Can you recall exactly how it was that you died?

- What? - I want you to concentrate.

Think very hard, please. What is your very last memory?

Try to reach out and pull it in.

What happened? What?

Keep going, keep going.

- No, I see it. - Excuse us.

- And it's delayed. - Ugh! After all that?

After all that.

I'm getting a drink.

- Oh, Jesus. - What? Don't even.

I didn't say anything.

My iPhone said the flight was on time.

Yeah, well, we don't really control the apps here,

just the official board behind me.

"Just the official board behind her."

Sorry.

I don't even know why I'm doing this.

I just had a family trip three weeks ago.

My family, which is bad enough.

Your family is your family, not my family.

We should get back. The plane should be boarding.

Yeah.

I can't do this.

It's not right with us, and you want me to pretend that it is.

I did that for 10 years in my marriage,

and I'm not doing it again with you.

I'm sorry.

You're not gonna say anything to me?

Amy.

We will now begin boarding for service to Pittsburgh.

All active military...

- Amy, I just... - ...any disabled people,

and all Ruby Class and Gold Class club members.

- Amy, just... - We will now begin boarding

rows one through eight for service to Pittsburgh.

Amy, please just see how you feel

when you get there, okay?

No, I'm sorry.

I'm gonna get a cab back to the apartment.

Just go without me, go have fun with your parents, okay?

Uh, wait.

- Sorry. - It's fine.

How many times do I have to tell you

not to touch people?

Why does it look like you're smiling?

You think this is funny? Is that what you think?

I'm not smiling, okay? Just...

I knew when you ordered two vodka sodas,

you weren't going to get on that plane.

Oh, you think this has to do with my drinking?

- Yeah. - Well, whatever.

This is not because of my drinking.

- Okay. - Okay?

I've been thinking about this for a long time.

You don't have anything else to say to me?

Just seems funny that if one plane isn't delayed

for an hour, we don't break up.

One little connecting flight from Dallas isn't late.

Maybe one little engine problem is the difference

between you and I staring into the eyes of our grandchildren

and being buried together 50 years from now

or you getting in a cab

and going home to a new life without me.

No.

This would have happened back at your parents' condo

or back home, okay?

- Maybe you're right. - Or...

Okay.

You're not serious.

Jesus.

So you guys broke up?

And this time I'm gonna hold her to it.

For real this time?

I told her the next drunk panic breakup was it.

- Are you sure? - Christ.

I just realized I don't have any money for the toll.

Goddamn toll is only a goddamn quarter.

- You don't have any money? - Nope, don't have a quarter.

Yeah, nope, thought I was getting on the plane.

- Man. - Now I've got to get off

the goddamn exit and go to the ATM.

I can't believe this, man.

Are you still there?

- Yeah, and I missed the ramp. - Where are you?

Yeah, I just gotta back up now.

- On the highway? - Uh-huh, on the highway.

Shush.

- You're doing what? - What?

In the middle of a fucking highway?

Are you crazy?

I hope you're all right. None of my business.

Do what you want, which you will.

That's really the last thing I remember.

I think that's all.

Let me think.

Try to remember. You can do it.

Open your mind.

I still have this quarter.

Where did you get that quarter?

Picked it up.

You picked up the quarter. And then what do you remember?

That I hit something?

Think it through, Michael.

It's easier if you figure it out for yourself.

Something hit my car.

A truck hit your car.

What's the very next thing you remember?