Marcos and Me

By KC

Everyone looked at me like I was nuts (well, I am, we all know that).

"Dispara? You picked DISPARA?" someone gasped. "Whatever for? That scene…"

"Well, yeah, I did. I adore Marcos. I know the rape scene is beyond horrible, but it's a part of the story. I, well, I want to be IN it. I don't know how, or why, but I want to see him. I want to touch him. He's beautiful. He's a wonderful character."

"Well, OK, if you say so…" as I walked down the corridor, I heard the murmurs behind me and thought, well, big deal. This is virtual reality. I know that I can control it to some extent, and Jill told us that we wouldn't get hurt in any way. This will be all right. I know that it will. Stopping in front of the door I had been directed to, I took a deep breath. Yeah, and if it's going to be OK, why am I so scared…I knew from talking to some of the other writers that this thing had a few glitches. Sometimes, when you step in you are right IN a scene; other times, a tech has to help get things started. I pushed the door open, closed my eyes, and slowly walked through.

I blinked in the sudden light. I was standing in the middle of the circus grounds. As I slowly turned in a circle, I could see the bustling activity, as the employees and performers got ready for the evening show. But which show? The first one, the one Marcos covered? When would I get to see him? And what would happen?

"Watch out!" a voice called behind me, and I hastily moved to lean against a wall of the tent, content to watch and listen. Looking down, I could see that I was wearing the same clothes, jeans and a sweater, so that told me that I wasn't a part of the 'actual' cast. But who the hell was I supposed to be…I was feeling confused and more than a little anxious.

"Hey, are you looking for tickets?" A tall man tapped me on the shoulder, and waved two thin pieces of cardboard at me. "It's our closing night, you don't want to miss it." He paused, and his eyes teared a little, "But, sales are way down, you can have these if you want…you have heard the news?"

"Uh, no, heard what?" I asked cautiously, taking the tickets from him.

He sighed and scuffed a tennis shoe in the dirt. "Our star performer, Ana, well…you really haven't heard about this?"

"I saw something on the TV news, but my Spanish isn't very good. Um, is she injured?"

"She's dead," he said flatly. "She's dead, and for no good reason. What she did was justifiable. Totally. Those assholes deserved exactly what they got. Thank God for that reporter, the El Pais guy. He got to her before she died, and she told him what happened."

Oh, great. I'm at the end. Well, I'm beyond the end. What is going on? What could I possibly do now? "Thank you for the tickets," I murmured. "And, I am so sorry about your friend. What time should I be back here?"

"Show starts at 8:00. And thank you for saying that. Too many people are saying bad things about her - she doesn't deserve them." He smiled sadly and turned to walk away.

"Wait! Please, could you help me? I, uh, I need a hotel for tonight. My reservations got messed up. Could you recommend something?" He looked at me a little strangely, and called to another young man standing nearby. The two of them spoke for a few minutes, and then they scribbled a few addresses on a piece of paper and handed it to me. Thanking them again, I moved away.

This VR stuff was pretty slick. I knew where to go, which buses to catch, where to look for landmarks. I fingered the paper in my pocket, wondering if I really should try to check into a hotel, but decided to spend my time looking around Madrid. It was a beautiful afternoon, and I was saddened to think that it wasn't really…real. I even walked by the building that housed El Pais, and wondered what would happen if I went inside and asked for Marcos Valles…

I was back at the circus site by 7:45. I was starving, having missed lunch and being unwilling to go into one of the tapas bars by myself - but here, I saw that Spanish junk food really wasn't all that different than the American version, and I could point to things and say 'Coca-Cola' easily. I passed my ticket to an attendant and entered the tent. I sat a few rows up from the floor, and set my food and drink down beside me. As I looked around at the sparse crowd, I felt sad for the circus. They would lose a lot of money. I was also feeling very, very sorry for myself, and began to wonder if I should leave, still not understanding why I was supposed to be sitting here. As the show began, I actually bent down to get my purse, trying to figure out what to do. And then a voice, HIS voice, spoke above my head.

"Is anyone sitting…well, that's a pretty stupid question, isn't it? Do you mind if I sit here?" he asked. My head shot up, and I stared into familiar brown eyes.

"Nnnoo, no, not at all," I said, trying not to stammer. "Here, let me move this stuff…" we both reached for my cup and bag of popcorn at the same time, and they spilled. I yelped and tried to grab both, feeling the cold liquid spill on my shoes. "Oh my God, I am so sorry, did it get you?" I said, feeling like a complete idiot.

"No, but it got you…and I am sorry, this is my fault." He grabbed the napkins I had left on the bleacher bench and started to kneel down, then thought better of it. "Here, can you clean up? Do you need some help? And can I buy you something to replace this?"

"I, no, I've got it, thanks, and it was a pretty poor excuse for a meal anyway," I said softly, bending down again to try to get the sticky cola off my shoes. "But, thank you…"

"Meal?" He looked at me curiously, and I got a good look at him for the first time. Marcos Valles. A sad, defeated Marcos Valles. His beautiful eyes were dull with fatigue and pain, and his face was pale. He looked so tired…"This is a meal for you?" he said. "You're American, aren't you?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm, I'm a tourist. From California. I was walking around the city today, and I forgot to eat."

"This is an unusual place for a tourist to be," he remarked, sitting beside me. "A circus? Don't you have circuses in the US?"

Ohoh…I thought fast. "Well, European-style circuses are so different. I thought it would be interesting." He looked at me and nodded a little, but didn't reply. That was one of the lamest answers I had ever given anyone. I glanced around, wondering how I could end this little adventure, NOW. This was a major disappointment. I didn't know what to say, or do.

Marcos sat silently for a time, watching the performers in the ring without really seeing them. I stared straight ahead, miserable. Finally, he sighed a little and turned his head.

"Are you perhaps here for the…thrill factor…?"

"WHAT?" I gasped. "I mean, I don't know what you mean. What are you talking about?"

"Well, this company has had a recent tragedy…"

I was really confused now, and a little angry. "Wait a minute, you are way wrong, Marcos. I would never, ever do anything like that!"…" I stopped, horrified at my words. In less than one sentence, I had really screwed things up.

He stared at me, and then spoke again. "It's OK, I know you know who I am. And I sort of know why you're here."

"You do?" I had a few things to say to Ms. Jill Gates when this nightmare was over. "Why am I here?"

"I know you are here to meet me," he murmured. "I'm just not sure why. Don't be upset, I'm not. I wasn't even going to come here tonight. This is the last place I want to be…but something told me to come here."

I took a deep breath. "OK, yes, I do know who you are. And I know your story. I, well, I wanted to meet you. I admire you very much."

His face suddenly changed. "Why?" he said bitterly, watching me stonily. "What is there to admire? And how the hell would you even know about me?"

I was starting to panic. I knew that unpredictable things could happen in here, but I never expected to find myself in VR Hell. I couldn't answer him for a while. Finally, I shifted a little on the bench to face him.

"I guess you will have to trust me on this one, Marcos. There's no other answer that I can give you. I do know about you. And, there's a lot to admire. You have talent, I have never read your writing, but I just know that it's wonderful, and I know that you have great integrity. You have gone through hell, I know that too. And you have suffered a great loss. My heart goes out to you, it truly does." I stopped, totally embarrassed. Why couldn't I have had a great fantasy, like some of the other writers? Hot sex with Marcos…pledges of undying love. My bad luck, as usual. I glanced down at my purse again, wondering how fast I could grab it and run.

"Thank you," he said slowly, turning his head to look at me. "You really mean that, don't you? All of it. I appreciate it. Maybe this is why you and I are here, so that you could tell me this." He fell silent again, and then smiled a little. "I think it will take more than a few words from an attractive woman to fix my problems, though. No, no, I am not insulting you," he said as my eyes widened at his words.

"If you know about me, and know what happened…well, what would you do? I truly feel as if I have nothing to live for. Everything that I have been hoping for, for the past few weeks, has been yanked away from me. My editors expect me to write brilliant stories about my experience, insightful commentaries about it, about how it could happen." He spat out the words, the bitterness back in his voice. "My friends tell me what a bad break I got, and how I should mourn for a few days and then go on as if nothing had happened. Strangers recognize me and give me pitying looks - no, not you!" His voice rose steadily as he spoke. "And all I can think is that the love of my life is dead, and that I don't want to be here without her. What would YOU do? WELL?"

He sounded angry, but there was a strong thread of self-pity in his words. Not at all what I had imagined. I thought that Marcos would be stronger, more resilient.

Suddenly, I knew why I was here. "What would I do? I have no idea. I've never been in your position, Marcos. I think that I would probably feel the same way. I hope that I never have to find out." I looked at him, and knew that he could see anger in my eyes. "But if I ever was…yes, I would mourn. I would be inconsolable. But I'd try to get something good out of it, even if I couldn't see the good at first. Use your talent - make people understand what happened, just like your bosses want. It would be wonderful, powerful. And productive. Can you do that?"

"I don't know," he said quietly. "I just don't know."

OK, that's it, I thought to myself. This is not what I wanted out of this experience, and anything I said or did at this point would only make matters worse. I reached for the strap of my purse and stood up.

"Marcos Valles, I am very, very glad to have met you. I hope that you solve your problem. I have to go. Goodbye." I brushed by him, ignoring his startled 'What?' and ran down the bleacher steps and across the dirt floor of the arena, towards the nearest exit. How the hell do I get out of here, I thought. Please, let this end.

I continued to run until I reached the edge of the temporary parking lot. Looking around wildly, I yelled "ENOUGH! I want this to be over. Now." Nothing happened. I sighed, and sat down on a large wooden packing crate to wait. Tears welled in my eyes as I thought about the scene inside the tent. You jerk, I said to myself. You could have really made something special out of that. But no, you had to shoot your big mouth off, as usual…lost in my recriminations, I also lost track of time.

"Hi," a quiet voice suddenly said. "Are you OK?"

I looked up and saw Marcos standing in front of me. "I'm fine, I guess," I whispered. "Why did you follow me? I think we can't continue this."

"Oh, but I think that we can," he answered, and to my surprise, nudged me with his knee so that I would move over for him to sit beside me. "I have been thinking about what you said in there. You're right, you know."

"I am?" I said, startled and wary. "I mean, oh hell, I don't know what I mean anymore. This isn't real. This isn't what I wanted. You're not real."

"I am as real as you want me to be," he said, smiling. "And now we both know why this all turned out the way it did. You got your wish. And I also got mine. I needed something to spark me, to wake me up. You just did it."

"I DID?" I whispered. "Do you mean that?" He nodded, and moved closer to me.

"Yes, you did. And I thank you for it. And, I believe that there was something else that you wanted…" he reached out and took both of my hands in his, raising them to his lips and kissing them softly. I blinked, hard, willing my fingers not to shake, and not succeeding. He laughed a little and cupped my face with one hand.

"I have a, forgive the cliché, hard road ahead of me. But I know where to go now. I really appreciate you letting this all play out. I will never forget you." He bent his head and kissed me, gently at first, and then with a little heat. I was dizzy when his mouth finally left mine. "And, I have a favor to ask."

"What?" I breathed. Anything. Anything at all.

"You are a writer, yes? Write about me."

I closed my eyes, nodding. "Oh, yes. Yes, I will." It was only for a second, but when I opened them, I was in a windowless room, empty and gray. The session was over. Did I get what I wanted? Well, yes I did.

The other writers crowded around me as I opened the door. "Well, how was it? Were you Ana? Did you save the day and live happily ever after?"

Happily ever after…what a concept, I thought, smiling. "No, I wasn't," I said. "It was nothing like I expected. But it was great. It was GREAT!" My eyes met those of my writing partner, and I pulled her aside. "We have a job, amiga…"