“But it’s done. It’s finally done. I finally finished writing my first novel! I finished writing all 493 pages yesterday. Yes, so many words pages and pages of them. It has some slow parts and it has some fast parts, but really how fast is a book that’s 493 pages, when you know you could make a book shorter. You summarize it shorter, but it’s not bad because it needs some slow parts to make it more dramatic. Besides, I’m not Ernest Hemingway. I’m me. It’s not bad, it has some mystery aspects, things that people would think are unrealistic in real life. It’s not bad for people who like mystery and murder and fantasy and slowly dramatic stories. But people think these stories are unrealistic in real life just like they think telenovelas are, until it happens to them, because guess what, the book is based on my life. I was one of the characters that I wrote about.”
“So here’s what happens in my novel: there’s a woman by the name Andrea, who falls in love with a woman named Marcia. Andrea and Marcia meet at a writer’s circle. In the story, the year is 1983, and Andrea is embarrassed that she is a lesbian, but she’s willing to leave her husband and reveal her secret so that she can be with Marcia. She doesn’t want people to know she’s a lesbian but she’ll still do it because she’s that much in love with Marcia, but it’s useless because, she knows that Marcia will never love her because Marcia is straight and Marcia falls in love with a handsome man named Luis. Luis isn’t a citizen of the United States, he is there illegally. He came from Mexico 4 years ago and now works illegally as a waiter at a restaurant where he meets Marcia. He also meets another woman named Gloria at the restaurant, and despite his troubles he falls in love with a beautiful woman named Gloria. Marcia learns about this and kills Gloria. Gloria has no other family and the only other relation she has is Luis. Luis is afraid to go into an investigation because he doesn’t want to get deported and Gloria’s murder was swept under the rug. The handsome man went on a quest to figure out who killed the love of his life, and thought it was another man by the name of Frances. He kills Frances only for Marcia to tell him she did it. Despite this, Luis falls in love with her. He realized that he didn’t care about Gloria, but only her beauty. Andrea wanted to get to Luis to expose Marcia and get Marcia jailed. If she couldn’t be with Marcia she at least wanted Marcia to suffer. Before Andrea could tell Luis the truth, Marcia told Andrea that she already told him and that he didn’t care. Marcia and Luis planned on killing Andrea, but Andrea swore to stay quiet.” I tell this story to the stranger I met at the bar.
“I’ll publish it and see if it will do well. Now, you already know I’m alive to tell the story, so I am not Gloria, and I’m not Frances. I won’t tell you who I am, but can you try to guess.” I asked him this, but I noticed something. I wish I hadn’t told him the story. I wish I had the sense to at least not ask the question but I did. I really wish I hadn’t. I noticed a tattoo on him. It says “I hate f****ts.” I wondered what hell that will bring. I wondered what I got myself into.
He seriously only has two options. I am a woman so he won’t pick Luis. His only two options are Marcia the murderer and Andrea the lesbian. I really wonder what he’ll pick. If I had asked anyone else I wouldn’t have been nearly as curious to see who they thought it would be. They would obviously choose Andrea, and I would have agreed and said that was right. I wonder who he’ll choose. He takes a while to decide. I think that I might be thinking about this even more than he is at this point. His lengthed thinking gives my anxious brain more time to run around and think thoughts that are loud in my skull.
“Marcia,” said the stranger.
I looked at him and said that I couldn’t tell him for sure because that might get me in trouble and that it’s a mystery. If I was Andrea I wouldn’t be able to tell him anyways. I don’t want to die today. If I was Marcia and I confirmed it, who knows what I could get in trouble for even without proper evidence, because in my story there was no evidence of the murder of the illegal immigrants.
I tell him that if that’s what helps him sleep better at night then that’s really what he thinks I am, or rather hopes I am. Maybe he thinks deep down that I am not what he said I was but he doesn’t want to hate me and he doesn’t want to hurt me. He just wants to leave me alone after a night he wasted.
He says OK and tells me he’s not comfortable and needs to go. I stay until they close and tell the bartender my story without slipping in the detail that I was one of the characters. He likes my plot and tells me he will definitely give it a read.
Now, that’s all over and I won’t say who I was, but I am pretty and I am tall. I am in love with someone but I won’t say who. I go to a writer’s circle, but none of that matters, so can you guess who I am? But I won’t tell you because that’s up to you to decide, so the question is, what is your guess? Who do you think I am?