Xavier Horton felt an emptiness while he sat at the computer monitor, a sense that felt so foreign he had to wait a moment to put a name to it. He looked at the blank screen, hoping the words would jump onto the screen automatically, but they never did. Xavier stared at the computer, and the computer stared back at Xavier. Neither blinked.
"Come on," he muttered to himself. He reached down and took a drink from his beer. In his four years of writing for everything from technical magazines to poetry for the campus newspaper, writing came so instantaneously to him that he refused to believe there was such a thing as writer's block. More like a writer's incompetence and laziness, he reasoned. Incompetence or laziness or block or whatever, he could not write.
He pressed the J key down and an invisible hand pushed an infinite stream of Js onto his screen. Shall we continue with this exercise in futility? A voice inside him mocked. Xavier heard a small knock at his door, and he sprang out of his chair, almost knocking his computer over. Most of the time he would leave the visitor for a minute or two while he finished up his plot. Not tonight, though, he thought sarcastically.
His hand was on the door before he realized he was halfnaked. "I'm coming," he shouted while he looked for a shirt in his drawer. He grabbed a red sweater and thrust his torso into it, pawing down his dark hair into a semblance of order before he returned to the door and opened it. Outside stood a red-headed girl with a wry smile and a large box underneath her arm."What took you so long, Shakespeare?" Melinda asked.Xavier looked at her for a moment in confusion, then realized that he promised her he would drive her down to her job. Melinda seemed to read his mind when she said, "I got here half an hour early in case you were busy."
"Come on in," he said, and led her into his cramped college dormatory. Xavier's apartment was one of the few corner apartments, and as such he got a breathtaking view of the desert outside. Melinda put her box down on the table in the half kitchen absently and looked out the windows. For the first time, Xavier noticed the way that Melinda filled out her jeans and pink shirt, and it shocked him that he thought of her in that matter. Even more shocking was that he only noticed right now. Most of the time that Xavier didn't spend typing up forms for the professors and classes he spent in front of his computer monitor pounding and forging his stories with the precision of a blacksmith forging an elegant sword. He had no time for anything else until now.
"Excellent view, Shakespeare," Melinda remarked, but Xavier had returned to the computer to type out something tonight. She always called him Shakespeare, never by his name. No, it just wouldn't go. He couldn't write anything worth writing. Xavier tried to remember what his English teacher had taught him about just writing whatever would flow out of him. "Remember, Xavier, you are simply the waterwheel through which the river runs." Tonight it seemed like that river had run dry, or the wheel was cranky. Something touched his shoulder, and Xavier looked upsuddenly. Melinda's smiling face looked down at him, and Xavier remembered her saying something. "What did you say?" Xavier said bluntly. Melinda patted him on the shoulder.
"I said that the view certainly makes up for the furniture," she said, then swept her hand over the room. "Don't you ever think of getting something up here like a TV?" she asked. Xavier had never saw the need in a television. His futon bed, one drawer, and two tables, one for his computer and one for his meals, constituted the level of his comfort. One good thing about the place, though; it smelled remarkably clean."I like it," Xavier replied, but Melinda was lookingover his shoulder. On his shoulder, to be precise. The slight pressure felt reassuring, in a way. Reassuring, until Xavier realized what exactly she was looking at.
"It's nothing," Xavier said in a rush, turning to face her so quickly that she almost tripped. He felt a bit embarrassed, protecting a blank screen. Still, he had his quirks. He never let anyone, not even a teacher, glance at his work before he was ready to show it. If this annoyed her, she said nothing."What, you have writer's block?" she asked teasingly."You, Shakespeare, of all people?""I don't believe in writer's block." Xavier retorted.Melinda just smiled.
"I bet there are a lot of things you don't believe in," she said, "but that doesn't mean they don't exist. How much have you gotten out in the past few days?"The question shocked Xavier. "I_don't get out much,"he admitted. "I have my writing to do." Melinda leaned back on his bed, idly studying the celing. Xavier looked up, wondering what in the world could be so interesting up there.
"You might want to get out once in a while," she said, "You can't be much of a writer if you spend all of your time cooped up in here. Have you ever seen Durango?"
"What's there to see in Durango," Xavier said. "And besides, I'm not that bad of a writer." He knew it sounded arrogant, but her challange had brought it out of him. "You should go climbing in the cliffs just below thecollege," she told him as if he had never interrupted her. "I went there with my hiking group. The cliffs are red with iron, and the cactus got me in two different places on my hands, but the view from the top is marvelous. You can see nearly all of Durango from there." Xavier listened with suspicion.
"I have to concentrate on my writing," he said flatly. Melinda sniffed.
"My English teacher said that writing's half the talent. If you have no experience, the writing is about as dry as the deserts. Come on, let's go in early." Melinda started toward the door, and Xavier followed her, grabbing up her package and his keys at the same time.
"Why?" he protested."I think you'll like where I work," she said. Melindaheld open the door for Xavier while he struggled with her package. "It's an antique shop and Mister Lee-he's the owner -has all sorts of interesting things. Maybe that will cure your_whatever." Before he could protest Melinda was halfway down the hall. Xavier just stood still for a moment with his key in his hand. He never left his computer without typing something down. But he was out of ideas for now, and maybe this antique store would pique his imagination.
"Come on," Melinda shouted from down the hall, and Xavier quickly locked up while juggling the package. Maybe this would be the thing to help him.
Part 2
Email me
Go to Tripod
Back to the homepage!