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Sides of A Coin

Shawn McMichael

    My head is killing me no matter how much I rub it. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”
    “Maybe it was just your reflection? You might’ve just looked at the side of the building.” Seriously? My reflection?!
    “Jesus, no Martha, I saw myself. He was pointing right at me. Besides, my hands were lowered the entire time.”
    “Michael, that’s ridiculous. You know that’s ridiculous.”
    She always talks down to me when she wants to hurry things along whether it was with buying the car or “making love”. I just wonder what it is this time.
    “Yeah. Yeah I know, but that’s what I saw. The weirdest part was that he was holding my manuscript even though I hadn’t sent it yet.”
    “Your manuscript was stolen?” Just listen to me for god sake Marth!
    “No.”
    “What do you mean no? Did you print more than one?”
    “I only have one.”
    “Wait, how do you know it was your manuscript?” The way she rests her shoulder against the wall reminds me of my father, making it harder to look at her without kicking her in the stomach.
    “It was in the same blue folder that I use.” She isn’t going to believe that, hell I don’t even believe it, except I saw it.
    “You’re joking. Please just tell me you’re joking so I can go to bed.”
    Oh, so that’s why you’re being condescending.
    “You know what? It’s fine. Just go to bed. I’m going to go look for him.”
    “Look for him?! Micheal, you saw your reflection! Quit with this shit already!”
    I clank the keys around and softly close the door. I’m tired of making her angry all the time. Besides, I’m on a mission now and I know exactly where to start.

—

    The Shrimp Bucket is the oldest bar in LA and is also a favorite of mine, if this is a mirror of myself then he’d likely be here.
    “Hey, Mitch. How’s it been?” I really don’t know how to go about asking people if they saw me walking around. I would just sound crazy but how else can I ask it?
    “Hey Michael what’re you doing back here? I thought you said you weren’t gonna come here anymore.”
    Like hell I would say that!
    “When did...” This is going to sound stupid.
    “When did I come in here?”
    “You don’t remember? You came in about an hour ago saying how you just got your manuscript approved and how you needed to stop drinking to focus on your writing.”
    My manuscript was approved? Should I cry for joy or be pissed that It wasn’t finished?
    “Mitch, where did I go?”
    “I have no idea.” A wizened man turned his attention to me quite suddenly, like he was waiting his turn to speak.
    “You said you would go to the Marx Museum to find inspiration for your next script.”
    The museum closed an hour ago. What the hell was he doing there?
    “Thanks guys.”

—

    The museum is, not surprisingly, closed. Which means he didn’t come here so why did he say he was?
    A pamphlet blows towards me, almost hitting my face.
    A meeting for AA at the Marx Museum? Was he going to this?
    On the door is a sign; ‘AA meeting happening tonight! Everyone is welcome!’
    How didn’t I see this? I need to hurry in before the meeting ends. I barge through the double doors to see a stick figure of a man holding a clipboard.
    “Uhh hi, am I late for the meeting?”
    “It ended 20 minutes ago, sorry- wait weren’t you here already?”
    “Uhhhh yes. Yes, I was. I wanted to say something but I forgot, sorry.”
    No! I lost him again! Where the hell could he be?
    “Oh, that’s fine. Have a good night and don’t beat your wife this time.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “Well you are drunk right now, aren’t you?”
    “No, I’m not-”
    What?! Where did he go?
    “I’m sorry Mr. Fitzer, but you can’t submit this script! This is a clear sign of plagiarism and, frankly, you’re lucky I just don’t have you arrested!”
    The phone hangs up after that. My mind can’t make sense of anything.
    Who stole my idea?
    “I told you Micheal that it was just in your head. No one stole your idea. You’ll just have to come up with a new idea.”
    God, I don’t deserve her. Even in my most incompetent state, she still shows compassion.
    “I know Marth, but how will I? I’ve been working on this for months and I can’t come up with anything else.” I always hated crying in front of her but I have no choice.
    “It’s okay. You’ll be able to come up with something, I know you will.”
    I remember that day...I need to see her again.

    I see my house and Martha in the window. I want to apologize for making her so angry, and for putting my writing before her. She was right. This was a wild goose chase, and for nothing too. I just want her now. I see her through the window smiling. Her warm, luxurious smile. A smile that makes you feel on top of the world.
    Who...who is that with her? Me? I can’t breathe. The way they look at each other, smiling and kissing.
    I’ve never seen her so happy before. What’s that on the doormat? That’s my manuscript...
    So I stand on my front lawn. Nothing left for me except my flask and my manuscript.
    I just hope she can be happier now.

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