If Cormac McCarthy wrote dialogue for “Emily in Paris”

by Stephen J. Lyons

Scene: Emily Cooper, dressed in a paisley micro mini-skirt, with mismatched suede boots, has pain au chocolat and café au lait with her BFF Mindy Chen outside the Café de Flore.

Emily (out of breath): I like just realized how short this thing they call life is!? And afterlife is no lifeatall. Afterlife. Afterbirth. Differentsadness. Samesadness. Thoughts girfriend?

Mindy: I dont know.

Pregnantraindrops splash. In the distance the sound of gunshots. A magpie lands nearby holding a humanthumb in its bloodybeak cawing a bleakminorkey tune. Emily reaches into her parrotgreen Birkin handbag and pulls out a yellowedwad of wrinkledpapers.

Emily: Here, I want you to take this. It’s my grandmother’s recipe for minestrone soup, the last meal she made before she was murdered by a Colombian druggang.

Mindy: I didnt know.

Emily: You do now.

Mindy: Yes, I do now know.

Emily: Nana spent her final coldasswinter in a cabin in the Swiss Alps. Mice chewed through her favorite Coldwatercreek sweater. It was white—bonechina white colorofdeath—with crimsonflecks like bits of Sierra pangold. Or blood. She died courageously eyesopen. Smiling. The unwashedkillers laughed ate beans out of rustycans with filthy barefingers. They farted because it suited their wayoflife at that particular moment.

Mindy: Beans will do that.

Emily: Yes. Refries especially.

Rain turns to graysleet. A lonesomewolf howls offkey somewhere near the Eiffel Tower. Emily adjusts her Hermes scarf ropetight around her tantalizing neck. Checks for “likes” on FaceBook. Sound of oldleather creaking like ancient muledriver reins. Odor of wethounddog and smokymescal. Emily shivers. Stabs at her pastry like a blackvulture picking apart a rottencorpse in Mexico.

Emily: Since Ive been here Ive seen things noone can unsee. I learnt that when you go forward there is no goingback. Demons occupy wakinghours. Nightmares a relief from reality. Dreams of parcheddeserts. Bleached cattlebones. Mimes that shout Latinphrases. Do you ever think of what happened before this?

Mindy: I havent.

Emily: Hows your pain au chocolat?

Mindy: I dont know. Its a complicated glob of gluten.

Temperature dips below freezing. Rain morphs into sleetpellets. Somewhere a man screams dammitaltohell Jacque! Trainwhistle. Someone hardcoughs. An outoftune banjo plays an unfamiliar dirge.

Emily: Fears?

Mindy: I have many.

Emily: Dont believe them.

Mindy: Guess not.

Emily: There are winners. And losers. Which are we?

Mindy: One or the other. Some of each. Not both. Maybe neither.

Emily: Are you in love?

Mindy: Was. Could be again. But lonely suits me. For now. Maybe later, too. Together, we all die alone.

Emily: ?

Emily: Love is just a burden not carried by the fearless. Reduce all expectations. Live for sunrises not sunsets. Eat heartily because it might be your lastmeal. Reject veganism. Feast on rare redmeat dripping with the bloodofcow.

Mindy: Si amiga.

Emily: Are you allright? Youre speaking Spanish.

Mindy: I dont know.

Emily: Another coffee?

Mindy: Im not ready for that kind of commitment.

Emily: Will I see you again?

Mindy: In this lifetime? Or next?

Emily: Both.

Mindy: I cant say. Possibly.

Emily: What scares you?

Mindy: Everything. Nothing. Joblesspoets with moleskinnotebooks. Laughter. Decapitation. Cacti. Corkedwine. Coiledsnakes. Clowns most of all.

Emily: Misuse of punctuation? Dialogue absent of quotemarks?

Mindy: Oh yes, that still.

Emily: Do you think Paris is now a thing? Because of us?

Mindy: Couldbe. We are born alive. We die notasalive. Nothing is forcertain. Except violent death.

Emily: It would be insane to lose what we have gained. The crazyclothes, the hunkychef, the butterybaguettes. To finally return to what we have not found only to find what we must then return to.

Mindy: So, voyages without maps? Dances without steps? Peace without war? Love without hate? Pears without…

Emily: Pear trees?

Mindy: Yes that.

Waiter brings the bill. Emily pays with her phone. Takes selfie with waiter. Posts on Instagram. “Best of Paris Café Life!” Waits for “likes.”

Emily: Its getting dark.

Mindy. It is dark.

Emily: Its getting darker.

Mindy: Seems thataway.

Emily: Then the long night?

Mindy: Often.

Emily: Come morning the blindingsun.

Mindy: In the east?

Emily: Most times.

Mindy:  I reckon it will happen. Or not.

Emily: You mean you wont say?

Mindy: I might infer.

Emily: That’s somethin.

Mindy: Perhaps.

Emily: Other things?

Mindy: Things that hurt?

Emily: They must inflict pain.

Mindy: The foreverscars?

Emily: Yes.

Mindy: Id rather not say.

Emily: Thats so French.

Mindy: Is it?

Emily: Now Im not entirely sure. Might be Czech.

Emily: Au revoir Mindy.

Mindy: Adios. Vaya con Dios.

Emily: Wait, now God exists?

Mindy: I’m not sure.

A lonesome beret skitters down the avenue. Unclaimed forever.

END