Honeysuckle Orange

by Arthur Perez

Marvin looked at himself in the mirror. "I am a good person," he told his reflection. "I am in control of my life." He looked at his face in the mirror. It was a good face. He half smiled at himself. He picked up the toothbrush and started brushing his teeth. He rubbed his eyes, with his other hand, then suddenly, he froze, his toothbrush hanging in his mouth. Like a deer in headlights, he stared at himself. He splashed his face again with water, the toothbrush getting in the way as he did. This time, slower and covering his eyes as he did. He stared again, mouth agape. He placed one hand over one eye, then the other hand over the other eye. He continued this one man game of peek-a-boo until his eyes were almost ready to come right out of his head. His toothbrush hung in his mouth for a few seconds before falling out and bouncing onto the counter. That feeling of subtle contentment had completely evaporated. A look of worry swept over his face and he ran into his room.

He shut off the light, ran out of the bathroom, closed the curtains and threw himself under the covers, enveloping himself in darkness.

It was about 5 in the afternoon when Jules got home. He stomped up the steps still fuming about the idiot who cut him off 15 minutes ago. A couple of days ago someone asked Marvin how he and his roommate, Jules could get along.

"How could someone with a name like Jules be so angry?" the person said.

"He does have a temper, but we have sort of an understanding. Jules can beat the living crap out of me," Marvin said,

"And I understand that." The person laughed. Marvin smiled politely unsure of what exactly was so funny.

Jules came to the door of the apartment and slammed his fist against it a couple times. No answer. He felt around in his pockets and took out his keys, shoving the apartment key into the lock. He turned it quickly to the right and was left holding the round half in his hand. "Dammit!" he huffed.

It was the third key he'd broken in as many months. He kneeled down, looking into the keyhole to survey the damage. "Marvin!" he shouted. No answer. "Marvin!"

"Yeah," came the voice meekly through the door.

"Open the door", he growled at the door.

"What for?"

"So, I don't have to kick your ass! And 'cause the key broke off in the door, but mostly so I don't have to kick your ass," Jules said.

"It's all so useless," pined Marvin.

"Son of a bitch. Are we doing this again?"

"We take so much for granted…"

"I'm not gonna stay out here in the fuckin' hall because you're having another goddamn existential crisis!" Jules exploded.

"There's so much I haven't done…"

"OPEN THE DOOR, MARV! You're lucky the key broke off in the door, or I'd've broken it off in your ass!"

"The key broke off in the door?"

"Are you even listening to me?" Jules rubbed his face, mumbling something unintelligible about Marv. "Yes, the key broke off in the door!" Jules could hear Marvin fumble with the lock.

"See, everything is so fleeting. Even keys." The door cracked open.

"Fuckin' Marv. Every stinkin' time," he said as he inched through the door. As he looked around, Jules saw that all the shades were drawn. There was a pile of blankets where he only assumed that Marv had been sulking and an open box of donut holes beside it. "Why is it so damn dark in here?" He looked at Marvin. "And why the hell are you still in your damn pajamas?"

"It hit me today," Marvin said.

"Believe me, if it wasn't me that hit you, consider yourself lucky."

Marvin readjusted himself in the spot he'd made on the floor in the corner surrounded by blankets. "No. I had an epiphany."

"Don't be so dramatic," Jules walked into the kitchen, "You didn't wash the damn dishes?!"

"I was looking at myself in the mirror this morning." His voice wavered as he spoke. I was rubbing my face trying to wake up and...I didn't see my face."

Jules turned from the dishes in the kitchen. "What?"

"When I closed my eyes...I didn't see my see my face!"

Jules dropped his head down. "Sonuvabitch..."

Exasperated, Marvin covered himself with a blanket. "Do you realize that you'll never see yourself in the mirror with you eyes closed? Jules had his head in his hands as if trying to summon a headache. "Think about it. It's something that won't happen. It's impossible to do. It will never happen."

Jules exhaled. Marvin went on.

"Do you ever ask yourself, why we're here? Why does anything happen? Why am I Marvin? Why is your name Jules?"

Jules pointed a loaded finger at Marvin. "Whoa, fucker! You're not crossing it! You're not crossing that bridge! If I were Johnny Cash, I'd've written a song called " A Boy named Jules" and that's as far as that needs to go, bastard."

"Johnny Cash," whispered Marvin, "He never saw himself in the mirror with his eyes closed either."

Again, Jules exhaled, as if to maintain his composure. "You'll never see yourself," he spoke slowly. "In the mirror."

"Uh-huh," blurted Marvin.

"With your eyes closed," he finished.

"Yeah," Marvin said somewhat excited that someone else finally understood.

Jules picked up a plate and hurled it at Marvin's head, missing him by mere inches. "AND?!?" shouted Jules. Marvin tucked and rolled over on the ground avoiding the ceramic shrapnel.

"It's been two years since you flunked out, Marv! So, what?"

"I was withdrawn."

"Call it what you will, they got rid of your ass! You're not there anymore and it's not helping you get over it!"

Marvin slumped over on his pile of blankets and ate a donut hole. He watched as Jules walked out of the kitchen and into his bedroom. "I'm at Gina's this weekend," shouted Jules, "I'm gonna call the super so maybe he can fix the lock."

Marvin heard Jules go into the bathroom. "It reeks! Did you put that damn Plug-in in here?"

"Yeah."

"It smells like a fruit salad exploded!"

"That's honeysuckle orange."

Jules came out of the bathroom with his things in a black bag. "If anyone's looking for me tell 'em to call me at Gina's," he instructed. "And put on some pants, dammit." That was the last thing Marvin heard as Jules flew by his pile of sheets and slammed the door. Marvin ate another donut hole and fell asleep.

It was already late when Marvin woke up. He trudged into the bathroom. He picked up the toothbrush that was on the counter, where it had fallen. Right above it he saw where Jules had left the unplugged plug-in hanging off of a soap dish. How sad, he thought, this plug-in's sole purpose of being plugged in had been denied. He did his little part for karma and plugged it into the socket in the kitchen. The dishes were starting to stink.

He came back from the kitchen and decided to finish brushing his teeth. It was almost bedtime anyway. No better way to end a day of napping, than with a full night's sleep. As he brushed his teeth he began to feel more relaxed. Not cured or resolved for good, but maybe for the moment. He saw a small puddle of honeysuckle orange left from the Plug-in. Apparently, if not in use and laid down, plug-ins seem to leak.

He continued brushing his teeth as the aroma of honeysuckle orange hovered all around him. He relished in the scent and it began to make him feel better. As he breathed in, the smell entered his lungs and nostrils. How odd, he thought. A Plug-in had never reached him so deeply before. Although, Marvin noticed as he spit out into the sink, the smell remained.

He finished and went into the bedroom. The aroma followed. He went back into the restroom and inspected the puddle. With a cloth, he wiped it up and realized why the smell of honeysuckle orange followed him wherever he went. His toothbrush had been lying under the leaky plug-in. As the mystery began to unravel itself, and the gears in Marvin's head slowly turned, his entire face grew cold. It seemed more out of panic, than toxemia, he hoped.

He grabbed the trashcan and frantically looked for the Plug-in box. It was nowhere in sight. Of all the days to actually throw out the trash, Jules had to pick this one. He threw the empty trashcan aside and began pacing like an expectant father in a hospital waiting room.

He found refuge in his pile of blankets. Maybe Plug-ins weren't poisonous if ingested. Nothing with a name like honeysuckle orange could be dangerous. It was possible that they were non-toxic. He hoped, they were, anyway. Marvin could picture his funeral. His nosy aunt, would probably come up to his mother, "What happened? Was it cancer?"

"No," his mother would say, "It was a Plug-in. His stench of failure was replaced by the smell of honeysuckle orange."

His eyes welled up at this thought. He almost felt like laughing. What a horrible way to die. He got up from his pile and went into his room. He found an old notebook he used to sketch cartoons in and opened it to a fresh page. At the top he wrote in all caps, THINGS TO DO IN CASE I DIE. The first thing he wrote under it was APOLOGIZE TO MOM. He had always felt guilty for flunking. He didn't blame her for kicking him out of the house. All his life he had one purpose and doing well in school was it. With the pressure, he just toppled over like a collapsible toy horse. After that, he no longer had a purpose.

Under that he wrote, KICK JULES' ASS. That one was pretty self explanatory. Of course, it would require him to actually find Jules and of course, kick his ass. He hoped that he died before that one happened, or else die in the process.

He thought hard about what to put next. There was so much that he might never do. All of a sudden, seeing himself in the mirror with his eyes closed wasn't such a big deal. His breathing quickened and with each breath, he inhaled more honeysuckle orange. Who knows how long plug-ins take to react? He didn't know how much time he had left.

Next, he wrote, EAT MICROWAVE POPCORN. It was something that Jules often made fun of him for, but he had never made microwave popcorn. When he was younger, his mother never had a microwave. His grandmother would often visit, sometimes staying for days at a time. She had a pacemaker and Marvin's mother was fairly overprotective, so she never bought one. Even after his grandmother passed, she almost felt guilty buying one, so she never did.

He went into the kitchen and opened the cabinet. He found Jules' secret stash of microwave popcorn. He often told Marvin not to take anything of his or he'd kill him. Marvin half-hoped that he would be gone before then. He put the package in the microwave and stared blankly at the control panel. Luckily, there was a popcorn button, for just such an occasion. He pressed it and the popcorn began to spin on its turntable.

Marvin's head began to throb. He wasn't sure whether it was the stress or the Plug-in, but he went into his room to lie down on his bed. He could hear the pop, pop, pop of the bag in the microwave. The smell of butter lingered with the smell of honeysuckle orange and it was the last thing he smelled before he went to sleep.

There was a knock at the door. Marvin was shaken out of his sleep and blindly wandered to the door. "Who is it?," Marvin mumbled.

"It's the super," came the voice from the other side.

"Super, what?"

"I'm here to fix the door your roommate broke."

"Oh sure, go ahead". Marvin stumbled into the bathroom to relieve himself as one often does after a long night's sleep. He inhaled deeply and quickly turned his head toward the kitchen. Honeysuckle Orange.

"I'm alive," he gasped. He was washed over with a sense of relief that he'd never felt before.

The popcorn! He had almost forgotten about the popcorn. He went into the kitchen and opened the microwave. The bag had burned slightly, but not too much. He opened it and tasted the popcorn inside. It was stale and left a film of cold butter on the roof of his mouth. He imagined that part of the allure of microwave popcorn was that it was usually hot. This, however, did not put a damper on the feeling of being alive.

He took another package of popcorn out of the box and placed it in the microwave, waiting intently as it popped.

-Posted to The Great Hoboes of New York on May 1, 2006