The Open-Mouth Night:

Part 1

FORWARD: The title is taken from a title of an amazing (but unfortunately dead) Latin author, Julio Cortázar, "La noche boca arriba." If you're into supernatural stuff, this is definitely the man for you, and there are English translations, though it's better in Spanish. It's one very bad dream…

--

Avril was exhausted when she got home. She had finished her developmental and social psych finals that day, a pair of two-hour exams focused on almost everything that could have ever happened to the human brain, and her own brain was fried. Her hand groped for a light switch. Then she sleepwalked to the couch and checked her voice mail. Rina called. She played the message.

"Hi, soy yo, Rina, I just wanted to check on you mami. D'you think we could have five minutes to see each other on the 20th? Dímelo, paz y amor."

There was a second message, from Kaiba: "I will be expecting you for an extra session on Tuesday, same time."

Avril closed her eyes slowly. Please, thank-you, excuse me--were these words too much for him? Yesterday Tchaikovsky gave him a kind of breakthrough from his usual cold skepticism. She knew he thought she was uppity, but that was only because Kaiba's employees functioned like drones, constantly and urgently going back and forth in their work--everything was rigid and stressful. How could someone as carefree as Mokuba have a brother so--so opposite? Her tired mind couldn't wrap around it.

Yet she kept thinking of yesterday. Kaiba. Tchaikovsky. What…exactly what about him drew her interest despite his coldness, arrogance, cynicism, boorish way? The cogs in her mind began turning. Pff, it had to be more than his good looks, and he was too tall and skinny for her. Maybe she unconsciously liked his difficult character; psychological studies confirmed people are drawn to fairly chaotic relationships, hence the age-old "Romeo-And-Juliet-Effect." Other studies seemed to indicate that women in particular liked troublesome men…she wondered if she was that woman. I hope not.

Her arms sank into the couch's flexible but stiff cushions. Maybe we're kind of alike, she thought. His faults aside, Kaiba was determined, independent, and very intelligent. He was much more pragmatic than she, certainly to a fault, but that kind of thought would protect him from deceit…she could…yaaaawn…respect that…

--

The apartments above floor fifty in Kaiba Corp HQ were enormous in their sizes and prices, with plenty of space for about any kind of recreation conceivable to the mind. In comparison to other rooms, the bedroom Kaiba used most often was relatively small, about the size of a small restaurant. One wall was made entirely of glass windows facing eastward over the entire, brightly-lit city. His working space made up the other wall, which included a small bookshelf, glass file cabinets, a desk, fireplace, and leather chair. Kaiba had a 20th-century Ottoman rug thrown across the wooden floor, which was raised in a dais in the middle of the room so that it supported a king-size bed.

It was on this bed that Kaiba flung himself after a hard day. His long limbs covered almost every inch of the bed and its midnight blue satin sheets. For once, he was tired.

"Cell phone."

On the wall immediately facing the bed Kaiba owned an extremely thin plasma-screen he developed himself six months ago; the only reason that Sony, Toshiba, and other competitors weren't screaming on their knees was because the Kaisma Screen Infinity (KSI) was still too expensive for the average middle-class consumer. He was using the feature that allowed a direct, voice-automated link to one's cell. The cool female voice replied, "Options?"

"Call Avril."

"Calling."

Seconds passed. Avril wasn't available; Kaiba had to leave a message: "I will be expecting you for an extra session on Tuesday, same time."

"Options?"

"Turn off cell phone."

"Turning off cell phone."

She'd better have no excuses, Kaiba thought, folding his arms. But then again, he caught himself, why do I care?

The phone turned on by itself. "Call intercept: Gianina. Options?"

His eyes snapped open. "Turn off cell phone."

"Turning off cell phone."

Why was she trying to call him, dammit? He thought. Two months had passed since they parted, and when they said goodbye Kaiba assumed they did so with the intention of not seeing each other. Yet he could expect to see her again within the next year or two, married to an old, wealthy businessman as her career waned. Even so, Kaiba was uninterested in nightly chats about life and love and stars and other meaningless things he had neither time nor interest for.

He closed his eyes again and folded his arms. What if she called about something else? Now and then during their brief stint she would suggest they take a weekend in Greece or Fiji or some other exotic place…. Those were good times. He learned to tolerate the beach and found these places to be good spots for meditation. In the evenings, Gianina would bug him into, "going somewhere."

Let's go to the club, she'd always say. You need to get out more, bello.

I don't club, he replied.

Then we can do something else. The bar makes good cosmos. Or if you don't like that, let's head to the casino. You're good at card games.

Kaiba refused. I'm not a drinker, and I've already memorized the probabilities for cards--it's too easy.

Watch the sunset?

Who cares about a sunset?

Visit the falls? The port?

Seen them already.

There's a stand-up comedy show in the city--would you like that, amore?

No thanks.

How she annoyed the hell out of him! He didn't want to do "relationship things." It wasn't because the media would assume they were a couple--the media already assumed that--but his interest in her was almost purely superficial. Her world was just as superficial and screamed fashion, fashion, fashion, which had nothing to do with him. She didn't care for politics or literature, and she had never read Dante or other famous works of her native Italy.

The last time, when they went to Cambodia, Gianina said, Seto, let's go visit the beach. It's looks very beautiful at night. Andiamo bello.

Kaiba laughed. Only if you'd like to do something else on the beach.

He was amused with his comeback until he saw the wounded expression in her distressed green eyes and worried frown, which all read, Is that all I will ever be to you, bello?The moment was tense, awkward. Kaiba wondered, Should I apologize? Then again, why should I care about her feelings? She wants to pretend we're something we're not. But that doesn't excuse you, you prick, a harsh inner voice replied. And before he could say sorry, she left the room.

The next time saw her was their last meeting. The envelope he gave her contained more cash than the earnings she made from any single contract in her career. He wanted to keep her from reporting anything about their shallow relationship, but it was also the only way he could apologize for what he said in Cambodia. She didn't want it, hence her cynical reply, "Amore, you must think I'm some cheap whore."

Maybe he should call her back?

No, he decided firmly. Let that be the past.

But he could still hear Gianina's voice travel over weeks in time: "There is love for you out there too, Seto…" He heard her say this over and over again, like a lullaby, until he fell asleep.

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Part 2, next chapter!