The Jam She Makes
by Mikhail Tank
Lucy was an oddball and a loner. She only trusted one person her whole life, Sam.
She tried to have girlfriends and lovers but everyone ended up disappointing her and indirectly, made her feel more and more alienated.
Sam was 27 years older than Lucy and his time on the ether was about to expire. Lucy was inconsolable and couldn’t imagine ever living without Sam’s wisdom and advice. She had loved him thoroughly, not the fickle way of lovers, but true dense love, so complete that she felt fully empty and lost without a couple of days of phone-inspiration.
Secretly, Lucy was a sci-fi nerd, experimenting with chemistry sets and doing all kinds of arduous research. She fantasized about keeping Sam’s genuine and never-to-be-found again friendship for all time, not only in her mind but in living form.
Lucy had saved throughout her life, she was a trust-fund baby taught by private tutors, which may have contributed significantly to her emotional disability. She simply couldn’t connect or trust anyone but Sam.
What was it about Sam?
Well, he was spiritual and a true gentleman. He would always respond to Lucy’s multiple crises. When she had a flat tire and no auto club membership, when she forgot which restaurant made the perfect ravioli, when her heel broke off – he picked her up on his bike. He never let her down, the most faithful of dog-men.
She could never be with him physically; because that would break the distance they so carefully carved out. He was, in essence the father she never had and she was his princess-daughter.
She did some research and called a Cryogenic facility in Arizona, where she spoke to a representative about Life Extension Benefits. She understood that a person must be placed into ice immediately upon death and flown to the facility for the ‘forever therapy’ to take place. Life insurance could sometimes cover the costs. She was only partly satisfied. After all, she wanted to communicate with Sam, but never through a medium.
Lucy invited Sam for coffee and brought a bunch of papers with her, she proposed over a Latte, “Sam, my dear one … I never want to lose your friendship, I always want to keep you close, and by the way would you do me a huge favor?”
“Dear one,” she kissed him on the left cheek, “I have a brilliant thought. We can schedule your going-away party, and then I will administer a special good-bye liquid and freeze your amazing friend of a brain. I’ve been working on this awesome jar thing on wheels. It has a speaker and is shock, earthquake, water and bullet proof.”
“What exactly are you talking about, honey?” slightly shivered Sam. You could see a bit of sweat forming on his forehead. His blood pressure was elevating, “I’m listening”.
“Sam,” – she whispered. “I’m going to keep you as my best friend for forever and I mean it. You know how in marriage vows, they say ‘Till Death Do Us Part’?” He gulped and spilled some of his coffee. “Death will not part us sweetie” – she was so jubilant, that she basically was dancing with her face.
“You mean to say that my brain will live in that jar and talk through the speaker?” “YES!” she exploded as if having multiple orgasms, “Exactly! Some folks walk around with a portable oxygen tank and I, my Dear Sam, will walk around with You!”
Although he nearly lost consciousness, a smile slowly appeared on his shaking face. He had nothing to lose; he had nothing else to live for. He was, in essence, a desperate man. And so he signed her papers and lived happily ever after, in the can. Just a girl and her dear brain friend.
Epilogue – 5 years later
Lucy, now older with an emerald pendant and malachite bracelet, in all greens rolls a large jar on the street, speaking through a blue-tooth. Coming towards her, was a mom with a stroller.
“Oh, what a beautiful baby” states Lucy. “Thank you, lovely lady” – answers the infant’s mother. “What is it that you are carrying in that futuristic jar?” “Oh, that’s just the talking brain of my best friend, wanna see?” Lucy ecstatically responded.
The young mother, in fear yelled out like a cat in heat and vanished with her baby as quick as a rabbit.
“Oh Sam, you’re MY baby forever” she whispered, while strolling the jar brain into the grey-orange sunset.
Writer, Director, BBC interviewee, Creator of the Darksoul Theatre®, Guinness Record holder in the Arts, 3 time (Stephen King) Dollar Baby Film-maker. News: mikhailtank.com/news & @MikhailTank
Richard Edwards has a BFA in Creative Writing and Journalism from Bowling Green State University and an M.S. in Education from the University of Akron. Managing editor of Drunk Duck, poetry editor for Prairie Margins, reporter for Miscellany, Akron Journal, Lorain Journal, and The BG News. He has also worked as a professional writer and editor in the medical publishing industry for several years. For the last 15 years Richard has also taught literature and writing at the secondary and post-secondary levels. He works much of the time with at-risk students.