Curing Jackson Blair: bp8

“Do you remember when we had that homeless guy buy us booze in high school? I never learned his real name, but I guess when a guy fights ninjas every day of his life you can’t expect to learn everything about him.”

Brooklyn lightly laughed and admitted she did remember him. Sterling thought back to other happy memories, simultaneously grateful that the sparsely occupied bar had turned down its music. God, Brooklyn was still stunning. No one wonder I had been so confident back then, Sterling thought, I had a beautiful and insanely sharp girlfriend, I could do anything I wanted. I was 8 feet tall and bulletproof.

“So, how’s life?” Brooklyn broadly asked. Sterling smiled for a number of reasons. One of which was Brooklyn’s unrelenting and earnest optimism. Sterling explained that he had attended Ashton Clown College but dropped out. Fully aware of sounding like an aimless, unemployed loser, Sterling tried to emphasize his desire for experience and adaptability. It didn’t just talk this way to Brooklyn, but talked this way to himself.

She seemed to have a lot of fun asking Sterling rapid fire questions about clown college and Sterling had a lot of fun answering them. Sure, clown colleges have athletes. John-John America was the captain of the football and basketball team. He had gotten a scholarship and was pursuing a degree in Clown Communications—which was a joke of a degree. But some clowns are great athletes; how do you think Michael Irving got his big break?

Brooklyn then started forcing the discussion to religion, which threw Sterling off a little bit. During the time they had gone out, religion never came up more than a general passing—and that was only after driving pass a church, synagogue, mosque or whatever those snake-handlers call their building. Since having her daughter and getting married (holy crap, she’s married!?!), Brooklyn had found comfort in God Almighty. And though she didn’t want to push her religion on Sterling, she felt it could really help him in this time of need. Sterling thought up dozen of responses including: “All of life is a time a need,” “And I thought I was the clown,” and “I really do need help, when’s the next show?” But Sterling said nothing immediately.

Brooklyn finished her drink but did not ask for another one. She watched Sterling think and occasionally glanced at her glass to make sure it was still empty. Sterling, carefully, started to explain that he didn’t like the way organized religions provide answers. He said he’d prefer mystery over incorrect knowledge. Science is a continuum of learning whereas religion seems static in its teachings. Sterling conceded that neither science nor religion was inherently more true or moral. He hoped more than anything though that he had not offended his former love.

Brooklyn grew solemn and began, “You said you want to always know the truth, even if it is less meaningful or fulfilling than current knowledge. Well, then I need to confess. I honestly don’t remember that homeless man. Nor do I remember having government class together or some of the other stuff we talked about earlier. And frankly, yes, I did love you once but right now I am not what you need in your life nor are you what I want in mine. I’m sorry. I want us to be friends, but I think you know what that means.”

Brooklyn got up and went home, letting Sterling stay in the bar by himself--failing to immediately recover from the emotional beating. Feeling cold once again, Sterling decided he should take his life south.