Dr Jew

is and tried to have them read it. All to no avail, aye. Such is the entrenched inertia of the system we find ourselves within and unable to do without. Such it is! I accept that my role in your Swine-AIDS film is a lost cause. That film is behind us. Let's move on! So when I speak of collaboration it will be in the true sense of the word on your next picture, wherever we choose to cast our energy. Did Philip give you my script? The new one."
    "Oh, I guess he forgot," I said. "Script?"
    "Aye. Well, no matter. We live not in some Star Wars universe where copies of Death Star plans cannot be made. I'll add a copy with your Swine-AIDS FAQ bundles. Look it over. If it works for you, do tell, and I suppose I can save your wife's life. No, we need not sign a contract and I won't even ask for credit on my new script, take the byline yourself for all I care, but keep the title and give me half of your cut and we'll call it a day. Oh, and this."
    And then he took a knife from his desk and cut a large gash across his palm.
    "Let me see yours," he said.
    "See my…?"
    "Give me your hand, man! For God's sake, before I bloody my floor again. Do you want your spouse saved or not? By the way, you don't have any diseases yourself?"
    I gave him my hand and turned away. I didn't so much feel the cut. The cut was quick. But the pain was open and in the world.
    "Aaaaaahh!" I said.
    "There, there," he said. "I'll put some gunk on it in a minute. Now, let's shake on it."
    It was a dark nonsensical dream and I went along with it. Our hands united in a bloody grip that oozed between our fingers the tighter he gripped. I ended the shake as soon as I could.
    "There. Now we are blood brothers and a deal is a deal. Uncork the champagne."
    "I don 't drink," I said. Not true, but getting drunk with this man was the last thing I wanted. "And could you take care of my hand… our hands?"
    "Oh yes, silly me. And here I thought we were real he-men! Ahahaha!"
    "Dr. Jew, please. The blood."
    He poured rubbing alcohol on cotton and dabbed it on my cut. I screamed.
    "What?" he said. "Ah yes, pain. Makes us what we are."
    He licked his own cut as he held the cotton tight on my palm and then wrap ped it in gauze that had small pictures of William Shakespeare printed on it. He saw I was looking at the pictures.
    "For my child patients," he said. "Personally not my style, but such are the fruits of our misdoings." He lightly punched my shoulder. "Right, Serge?"
    I had no idea what he was talking about so I nodded, lightheaded.
    "We ll, I guess I'd better be going," I said. "I'll have my secretary call you and work out the details for your Mexico trip. When do you think you'll have the medicine ready?"
    "Oh, I daresay a couple of days and I 'll have something to toss at the old girl."
    Didn 't particularly like the sound of that. "Right. Well. I'll be off then."
    "Don 't forget your bundles!"
    He handed me two large boxe s, a thick envelope, and a business card with a USB attached.
    "Right," I said.
    "Ciao, Serge babe! Let's do lunch! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!"

XXX.

    When Sergio had gone I sat alone a few hours staring at my outstretched palm as it transformed from bloody pus into chalky scab and slowly lost its shine. There is something miraculous in this body of ours that does the work of the gods whether we notice it or not, whether we wish it to or not. Something mathematical and obligatory that goes back to the sun that continues to breathe life into an otherwise lusterless rock. Grass will rise, hands shall heal, the heart underlying space goes on and snakes through time, the water ripples out to the edge of the pond.
    I am only a product of this at a higher level. I know I have sinned – not against any natural law – against my own being and identity. I tried to heal my self-image that I might look into the mirror once more as when I had been a boy. But I was attempting to see a person I was not drawn to be, and so it was that my vision stayed cloudy. I will never be good, pure. I am an admixture and I accept that asymmetry. The shadow will not go and the sooner I embrace it, the better we will all be. There will be no new leaf. There will be no redemption. No fresh start. I may shine under better circumstances and warp to malevolence when the world twists me so… but I am mostly a creature of good. Is it not so? Let it be so. Let me find these moments that let my light shine. Let me heal and hurt less. This is my chance. Keep me on this path, you