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Additional info for Darkness on the Edge: Tales Inspired by the Songs of Bruce Springsteen
You really should get a job in a restaurant. Or cook here and sell carry out. No, probably not. Got to have a license, don’t you? But I like your food, much better than what my Mama used to cook when I lived at home. That was some nasty shit. I mean stuff. ” “You’re livin’ at home again, don’t you forget,” said Alva. “Just temporary ‘til I find another place,” said Elena. “But anyway,” she turned back to Mac, “you got a good thing goin’ here. It’s a shame you don’t cook for hardly nobody but yourself.
The faces you’ve seen too long are now flat and featureless, masks distorted by erosion. You’re behind the wheel of your car, driving north on Ocean but you don’t turn left. You keep going, away from the circuit to the great darkness ahead, and you don’t look back. But now, you are back. You let the last of the memories slip away. Jody stands closer now, though still not close. From where you stand you see sand running in smooth sheets over her cheeks and draping long, like hair to her shoulders.
Then came the jobs, then Susan and the children. Through it all, the numb of that night remained with you like an opiate cloud. You hid culpability behind that mist, kept Jody there for years at a time. When she was able to break through, guilt pecked at your belly, though caused no real damage. But tonight memory burns away denial’s morphine. Looking at Jody’s image, guilt claws at your belly and sends acid tears to your eyes. The easiest thing to do is to step forward, offer Night’s sculpture of Jody your hand and let her guide you to peace.