← 06 📖

07. You, Youer, Youest

Carl sat at the dining room table in a pair of pleated brown corduroys. A cup of tea steamed between his hands.

The pants had been the first topic of conversation. When asked about them, Carl had grinned, swinging his legs up one at a time, offering Jake a better view. He then circled in place, running his hands across the thin ridges.

“But where did you get them?” Jake asked.

Carl hadn’t stopped smiling. “Where indeed.”

They were sitting across from each other now, staring into their teas in silence. Carl followed Jake’s lead; Jake wouldn’t begin the conversation until the tea was cool enough to sip.

Jake lifted his cup and blew lightly across the liquid within. He raised it to his lips. He tipped it carefully, allowing a few drops to spill into his mouth.

“So Carl,” Jake began, “tell me more about Bert.”

“The One and Only Bert!” Carl clapped his hands together, bumping his tea and spilling some on the table. With his eyes on Jake, he lowered his head slowly. He opened his mouth when it reached the table, and with a loud sluuuuuuuurp cleaned up every drop.

“Yes, The One and Only. Interesting title. Are you not The One and Only Carl?”

Carl covered his eyes and shook his head. “Oh no! Not possible. He is uniquely unique, The Most Became.”

Jake took a long drink, replaying Carl’s answer. It still didn’t make sense. “But aren’t we all unique, in a way?”

“You are,” said Carl, both hands open wide and pointed at Jake. He turned his hands inward. “We must become.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We begin the same.”

“Like bananas?”

“And then we become. The One and Only Bert has become the most: he is The Most Became, His Uniqueness.”

“You become,” said Jake. “You change?”

Carl wiggled his hands in parallel. “Change, but not any change. Change that makes you youer.”

“Aren’t you always you? I am what I am, you know?”

“Of course you are you. But aren’t there parts of you that could be youer, even if they are uniquely not you?”

Jake frowned. “We need more tea.”

In the kitchen, Jake let the conversation bounce through his head — you, youer, youest; becoming, becomer, became. He knew he didn’t understand all that Carl was sharing, but there was a rhythm to it that resonated with him. He was beginning to see something he had never noticed before: it was like a dim light marking a silhouette, an object revealed only by its delicate edges.

Jake looked into the dining room. Carl’s eyes were closed, his hands folded in front of him. The red and gold lines that covered his skin pulsed with every breath; now stretching, now thickening. When Carl breathed in, Jake noticed a ridge — running from the wrist to the outside of the elbow — on Carl’s forearms. Jake watched transfixed as the ridges appeared and disappeared, growing larger and more complex each time they returned. Lumpy, spiky, crenulated, filigreed.

The kettle screamed.

← 06 📖