A Story

"To get to the point," he said, sprawled naked across the bed sheets, "nobody plans on being born." He sat up on his elbow for a second and tapped his cigarette in the ashtray on the bedside table before taking another drag. "In fact," he continued, "no one plans on getting conceived, either, do they?" He laughed and threw his head back. "But I suppose all life is between those two points--life and death--is what the departure and the terminus are, as well: one big series of fucks. Look at us, after all." He stroked her cheek and she turned away from him.

"Aww, baby, don't be a snub," he said and the smoke swirled around them.
"Do you think we're arriving at the terminus now?" she asked and smiled.
"Aren't we always? Fucks can be prolonged."
"Or cut short."
She tipped her head to the side but kept her back to him.
"Oh, don't be cliche, dear. Half, empty, half full, prolonged, cut short. Either way, we're here now."
"And there's that whole big world out there just waiting..." She turned her head slightly towards him. He sat up.
"Do me a favor," he said.
"What?"
"Whatever comes after this, we go outside, t he world stands still, it starts turning, we fall off--write me down in those autobiographies of yours. Sprinkle a little fantasy on it. Just make me larger than life."
She laughed and stood up, casting a shadow across the bed and onto the wall behind.
"You're already larger than life."
He put his cigarette out, got out of bed, and slipped his arms around her from behind.
"How?" he said.
"If life is just a cup and half empty or half full, well, we're both bigger than a glass."
The two of them stood in silence in the half-light that came in through the curtains and swayed in unison.
"Then let's say it this way: make sure I'm the water."
"Why not air?"
"Air's old hat. Water means resistance. You have to work in it. More true to what all this," he waved his arm around, "what all this really is."
"What is it, do you think?"
"A struggle not to drown, of course," he said and circled around to face her. "But I have you."
"One man survives a shipwreck easier alone than with another," she answered.
He smiled and held her closer.
"But remember? I'm the water. I just decide who to spare and who to swallow."
"Would you swallow me?"
"No, dear. I become you. You are my great river and I meet you right here, at the estuary."
"So we're safe until the water dries up?"
"Perhaps. Otherwise, we're just back to the beginning again, not planning on dying and not planning on getting born."
"But living anyway."
"Yes, dear. Such is life."