<\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n I stood outside the concert hall, leaning against the brick wall and listening to the local band inside playing some punk rock version of Mmmmm Bop<\/em> made famous by that goddamn pop group Hanson. The band was off beat and the singer was mediocre, but Craig seemed to really like them and he had made me come along. He was inside somewhere, probably in the mosh pit bouncing off other sweaty guys and trying to show his dominance. I had stood at the back for a few songs, but after four beers and two Librium I had become uninterested in the music and had desperately needed a cigarette and to get away from the deafening subwoofers.<\/p>\n I took a long drag and chased it with two big gulps of beer.<\/p>\n \u201cHey how\u2019s the show in there?\u201d someone asked me.<\/p>\n I looked over and saw a petite girl dressed all in black sitting on a patio that belonged to the bistro next door.<\/p>\n I told her that the band was impressive and took another drag of my cigarette. I noticed that she had a spiked collar around her neck and black nail polish and lipstick. I also noticed that sitting beside her was a dark skinned man about my age, his left arm was around her, a half-finished pint glass was in front of him. He was wearing a tight Billabong shirt and had a middle aged man\u2019s haircut, short and parted at the side.<\/p>\n \u201cI can hear them from here, and I like the sound,\u201d she said. She had a European accent, I think, probably somewhere from the east, but I couldn\u2019t quite place it. Truth be told, I probably hadn\u2019t heard of the country anyway. I was never particularly good at geography.<\/p>\n I told her they were pretty tight, but that I just needed some air.<\/p>\n The man said something into her ear, but she chose to ignore it and asked me if I\u2019d like to share a pitcher with them. The man\u2019s eyes narrowed and he was looking at me disapprovingly.<\/p>\n Had it not been for that look, I probably would have declined and went back into the concert, but he was looking like he really didn\u2019t want me there, and she was looking like she did.<\/p>\n It had the potential to be more entertaining than the band.<\/p>\n I told her that I\u2019m partial to beer and also had a rubber arm. She smiled, the man didn\u2019t, and I poured the rest of my beer down my throat, dropped my cigarette into the bottle, placed it on the ground and staggered over to where the couple was seated.<\/p>\n I practically collapsed into the chair, nearly falling over sideway, but caught and righted myself clumsily.<\/p>\n \u201cHad a few beers already?\u201d the man asked.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, but I\u2019m always this clumsy,\u201d I replied. \u201cA bull in a dish shop or whatever.\u201d<\/p>\n A waitress brought an empty pint glass and another pitcher out and placed them in the center of the table. I wondered how she knew to bring them and then realized the woman sitting across from me must have ordered them when I wasn\u2019t paying attention. My hands immediately shot out to the jug and pint glass and I filled my glass and then topped up the man\u2019s glass and his assumed girlfriend\u2019s as well. The girl smiled at me, and the man muttered his thanks.<\/p>\n \u201cSo are you from around here?\u201d The man asked, taking a small sip of beer. I was enjoying his wariness.<\/p>\n \u201cI am actually,\u201d I replied, leaning forward as I spoke. The girl was fingering her spiked collar and was looking intently at me. \u201cI grew up in this city, born and raised. I don\u2019t mind it, but I haven\u2019t been anywhere else so I suppose I may just not know what I\u2019m missing. But we get a lot of immigrants coming here so I guess it\u2019s gotta be better than a lot of places, you know?\u201d<\/p>\n The man nodded, the girl continued to smile.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m from Pakistan,\u201d he said. \u201cWe just got here two weeks ago.\u201d He put his arm around her. She looked uncomfortable.<\/p>\n \u201cPakistan, huh?\u201d I said. I paused and everyone took a sip. \u201cMy name is John,\u201d I said, extending my hand. \u201cWelcome to my city.\u201d He shook it and saying that his name was Ramesh and that he was happy to be there.<\/p>\n \u201cMy name is Karen, and I love this city of yours,\u201d she said, also shaking my hand, although she shook it for longer than Ramesh did. Her thick accent and the alcohol and Librium swimming through my head made it difficult to understand. \u201cIt is very big and very busy though.\u201d Her accent was also little bit irritating, and I took another huge gulp of beer. I noticed that I had already gone through half of my glass.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, but you get used to all that. I kind of drown the noise out now. And the people aren\u2019t so bad but you do have to elbow your way through the crowds sometimes, especially during rush hour and on the subway. Well, its called rush hour<\/em> but it should be called rush three hour<\/em> here.\u201d Karen and I laughed in earnest, Ramesh laughed politely.<\/p>\n I could hear the band now starting a cover of Celine Dion\u2019s \u201cMy Heart Will Go On.\u201d It sounded much better with distorted guitars, and I said this to Ramesh and Karen.<\/p>\n \u201cWho\u2019s Celine Dion?\u201d Ramesh asked.<\/p>\n \u201cSome French Canadian singer,\u201d I replied, and then sighed. \u201cNever mind.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOk.\u201d He looked at the street.<\/p>\n \u201cWhere are you from?\u201d I asked Karen. I took another gulp, realized that my glass was empty, and proceeded to fill up the pint glass with more of their pitcher. Ramesh turned back and watching me while I did this, and I smiled at him.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m from Czech Republic,\u201d she said, her bright blue eyes staring at me intently. I shifted in my chair, her gaze making me feel slightly uneasy for a moment. Taking another long sip from my pint glass, I felt better.<\/p>\n \u201cOh, the Czech Republic. I hear it\u2019s nice there. I\u2019ve never been over to Europe though. Did you two meet here?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo no no, we met about six months ago,\u201d Ramesh said, removing his arm from around her shoulder. His accent was thick as well, but in a slobbery sort of way like he had just been shot up with too much Novocain, and I had to lean in farther at times to understand him. The noise from the concert hall made it even harder.<\/p>\n \u201c\u2026every night in my dreams, I see you, I feeeeeeel you…\u201d <\/em><\/p>\n \u201cYes, we meet six months ago,\u201d she confirmed, and reached out for her pint glass. As she did so, the sleeve of her shirt was pulled back slightly, exposing her wrist, and I noticed deep red scars lining it, the red contrasting immensely with her pale, pasty white skin. She noticed me looking at it, and immediately pulled her sleeve back over it. I smirked at how clich\u00e9 she was; the black hair, the black lipstick, black clothes, spiked collar, a cutter. I was sure that if I saw her bedroom Marilyn Manson posters would cover the painted black walls. I then put what they had both said together, and was confused as I processed the information.<\/p>\n \u201cWait, wait. You\u2019re from Pakistan, and you\u2019re from the Czech of Republic.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, just Czech Republic.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou said Czech of Republic. It\u2019s just Czech Republic.\u201d<\/p>\n Ramesh laughed lightly.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s the difference?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d She looked somewhat confused.<\/p>\n \u201cOh, ok whatever. Well you\u2019re both from different parts of the world. What brings you together? I mean, how the hell did you two meet?\u201d<\/p>\n They looked at each other.<\/p>\n Karen said they had met over the internet, and that they had been dating online for six months before coming to Canada and getting married and settling into a place together.<\/p>\n I was taking another sip of beer when she said this (my glass was almost empty again) and almost sprayed it across the table. I choked it down my throat and then threw my head back and laughed. The merits of the internet were endless it seemed.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry, but it\u2019s not something you hear everyday,\u201d I said after I could control myself.<\/p>\n She said she understood, and reminded me that my glass was empty. I thanked her for pointing that out and filled it again, emptying their pitcher. I asked her if she was going to be getting another one, and she said yes. Ramesh turned to her and said no, but she ignored him and again told me yes. I said that was great, and when the waitress came out to retrieve the empty pitcher I ordered the next one. It was put in the center of the table a few moments later, and I pulled out a cigarette.<\/p>\n \u201cSo you two met on the internet and did the whole internet dating thing and all that,\u201d I said. \u201cWhy did you come to Canada?\u201d I took a long drag from my cigarette.<\/p>\n \u201cKaren didn\u2019t want to come to Pakistan and I didn\u2019t want to go to the Czech Republic,\u201d Ramesh explained. \u201cWe both wanted to see Canada and here we could get married and get a place together. It\u2019s working out very well.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI will be going home in few months,\u201d Karen said pointedly, causing Ramesh to glance at her. \u201cI miss family.\u201d<\/p>\n I told her that the whole point of getting married was that you start a new family, and she smiled at this and said that she liked her old one. Ramesh told her that she should listen to me, and that she had a new family now, but she ignored him and continued to smile at me. I finished my cigarette and dropped it on the patio stones, not bothering to put it out with my foot.<\/p>\n \u201cYou have a beautiful wife here, Ramesh, congratulations,\u201d I said. My speech was starting to slur, and the gothic Karen, with her slightly sunken eyes that showed a slight depression and desperation, lit up. Her smile also widened, showing me more of her imperfect teeth.<\/p>\n Ramesh thanked me, and tried to put his arm around Karen again, but this time she shrugged him off.<\/p>\n I finished my pint and Karen filled it again, also topping her own up, although she had barely gotten through half of her original glass. Ramesh picked his glass up and waved it in front of her, but she put the pitcher back on the table, and I caught a glimpse of hurt on Ramesh\u2019s face. She continued to look at me, he looked at her, and I looked from her to him, from him to her. \u201cNothing is wrong, I just miss my family,\u201d she replied, finally turning to look at him.<\/p>\n \u201cWell we can talk about this later. Are you almost ready to go?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, not yet. I want to stay longer.\u201d She looked at me when she said this and smiled, and I smiled back. The booze was swirling through my head, making me feel slightly dizzy. She was starting to look rather attractive in a dark, desperate, gothic, suicidal sort of way.<\/p>\n Craig suddenly came out of the concert hall, and I saw him and called him over. He was sweaty and breathing heavily and I introduced him to Karen and Ramesh while he stood beside the table, lighting up a cigarette. He shook both their hands, apologizing for his sweaty palms.<\/p>\n \u201cWere you not having fun in there?\u201d he asked me.<\/p>\n I told him it was great but that I had needed some air and Ramesh and Karen had been kind enough to offer me a drink or two. He said he understood and that free beer could distract me from the end of the world. Everyone laughed, and I invited Craig to sit down in the empty chair beside me. He accepted, and when the waitress came out I told her to bring another pint glass out. Ramesh gave me a weird look, which seemed to ask why I thought I could offer away his beer, but I blatantly ignored it. The booze was making me feel bold and in control and I was now looking at Karen far more than I was looking at Ramesh. He seemed to notice this, and asked me what I did for a living.<\/p>\n \u201cHe has a very interesting job actually,\u201d Craig answered for me. \u201cDo you know those tags that are used to keep bags of bread closed? Well, John here,\u201d Craig slapped my back, \u201cis the lucky guy who gets to put those tags on. It\u2019s one of the most important jobs in the world if you ask me. Without him, bread would be falling out of bags everywhere.\u201d<\/p>\n I laughed and lit up another cigarette, and Karen was laughing too. Ramesh seemed to be trying to decide whether Craig was being serious or not.<\/p>\n Craig began talking to Ramesh about the differences between Canada and Pakistan, and I turned my head towards the street, smoking my cigarette and getting bored. I took another gulp of beer, and noticed that my vision was beginning to blur. The streets were looking hazy, and the glare off the puddles from the streetlights made me squint.<\/p>\n \u201cSo I just want to thank you for putting those tags on the bread,\u201d Karen said. I looked at her and noticed that she was now leaning halfway across the table, her arms crossed in front of her.<\/p>\n I looked into her dark brown eyes and told her that she didn\u2019t need to thank me; I was just a regular guy doing an extraordinary thing. I asked her why she didn\u2019t want to stay in Canada with her husband, speaking softly so Ramesh didn\u2019t hear me over his conversation with Craig.<\/p>\n \u201cI love the Czech Republic, and I don\u2019t remember why I wanted to leave.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh. I\u2019ve never been over to Europe.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, you said that already.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHmmm\u2026yeah I probably did.\u201d I smiled, and drank some more beer.<\/p>\n \u201cI think I may have made a mistake,\u201d she whispered.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d I could barely hear her; the band had begun playing another cover of a classic. It sounded like Walking on Sunshine <\/em>but I couldn\u2019t be sure.<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cI said I think I made a big mistake coming here,\u201d she repeated.<\/p>\n \u201cOh,\u201d I mumbled. \u201cWell those kinds of mistakes can be fixed easily I guess.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI guess,\u201d she said, looking down at the table.<\/p>\n The conversation was becoming a tad depressing, and curiosity got the better of me, so I asked her if I could see her arm. Craig and Ramesh had stopped talking, and they were both looking over at me. Craig looked confused.<\/p>\n Karen didn\u2019t blink. \u201cSure,\u201d she said, and I gleefully noticed her embarrassment as she rolled up the sleeve on her right arm to reveal the dark red scars streaked across her wrists and forearms.<\/p>\n \u201cOh God.\u201d Craig moaned. \u201cJesus Christ.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s a pretty girl like you doing with such hideous scars?\u201d I slurred.<\/p>\n Karen blushed.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh come on, what happened?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n \u201cI used to be screwed up I guess.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cUsed to be?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, maybe I still am. I don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHey, we\u2019re all a little screwed up, don\u2019t be embarrassed.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m not.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, maybe a little. I don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, you\u2019re still beautiful.\u201d I leaned back in my chair and downed the rest of my pint, and then refilled my glass with what was left in the pitcher.<\/p>\n Karen drank down half of her pint and then looked at me smiling, her eyes glossy and slightly bloodshot. She thanked me for the compliment. Ramesh leaned onto the table and told Karen that he thought it was time to go. She told him it wasn\u2019t, and that she wanted to stay. I looked over at Craig, and he seemed to understand that I was really enjoying the situation and that I wanted to keep it going. He offered to buy Ramesh another pint and told him he should stay for a while longer. Ramesh relented and leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, pouting.<\/p>\n \u201cYou know, I know what you\u2019re going through. I was there once,\u201d I said to Karen.<\/p>\n \u201cOh yeah?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah. Well, I didn\u2019t cut my wrists. You know. But I was sure close to it.\u201d<\/p>\n Craig had become uninterested (or disgusted, I couldn\u2019t tell) with my conversation and was asking Ramesh what he thought of the weather. Ramesh was answering him, glancing at me periodically.<\/p>\n \u201cYou were depressed?\u201d Karen asked as she leaned in towards me, her glassy sunken eyes fixated on mine.<\/p>\n \u201cTo be honest, I was. I have had a hard life I guess. Maybe not harder than some, but I haven\u2019t handled it very well.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know what you mean,\u201d she said, and she began to roll down her sleeve. I leaned forward and took her wrist in my hand before she could cover the scars completely, and in the corner of my eye I saw Ramesh looking at me coldly.<\/p>\n She asked me what I was doing. She didn\u2019t try to pull away. I told her I didn\u2019t want her to be embarrassed by them, and I ran my thumb over the protuberances, telling her that it was something I understood, something I could relate to, something I knew all too well. Craig and Ramesh were looking at us, but we were only looking at each other. When I finally looked over at Craig and Ramesh, my hand still around Karen\u2019s wrist, Ramesh looked more apprehensive than angry. I turned back to Karen, who had been saying something.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n \u201cI said can I have a hug?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh, sure I guess so. Did you want to ask Ramesh if it\u2019s ok?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI shouldn\u2019t have to.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, you should,\u201d Ramesh said. \u201cKaren, you\u2019re drunk. We should go.\u201d<\/p>\n I looked at Karen\u2019s glass and noticed it was still half full and that she probably was drunk. She ignored him and turned back to me, asking me for a hug once more. I said I didn\u2019t mind, and in unison we reached across the table and embraced.<\/p>\n \u201cYou smell so good,\u201d Karen breathed into my ear. \u201cCan you take me with you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhere?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n And then the hug was over, and we both sank back into our chairs. I lit up another cigarette, quietly enjoying Ramesh\u2019s discomfort with what just transpired.<\/p>\n \u201cKaren,\u201d Ramesh stretched out her name now, pronouncing each syllable carefully. \u201cLet\u2019s go.\u201d<\/p>\n His Pakistani accent suddenly sickened me, and the thought made me smile for some reason. I looked at Craig, who was also enjoying watching the drama unfold.<\/p>\n \u201cI said no,\u201d Karen snapped at him, her speech slurred. \u201cI want to stay here with John.\u201d She looked at me with a smile. \u201cYou can go. I\u2019m staying. Just go.\u201d<\/p>\n I smiled back and told Ramesh that he should go and that I would take care of her. He didn\u2019t answer me and got up and told Karen that they were leaving. She again declined, and he grabbed her by the arm and tried to pull her up. She was pulled half out of her chair before standing on her own accord and flinging his hands off her.<\/p>\n \u201cNo!\u201d She screamed. \u201cI don\u2019t want to go with you!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019re going!\u201d He screamed back. She picked up her half full pint and emptied it into his face. He slumped back into his chair. The beer glistened as it beaded down his face, leaving squiggled streaks on his cheeks.<\/p>\n I began to laugh loudly, and my laughter grew and grew until tears welled in my bloodshot eyes. Craig looked at me bewildered, and Ramesh\u2019s eyes now swelled with anger. He took a cell phone out and dialed a number, muttering something about me being sorry for something. This made me laugh even harder, and I buried my face in my hands. I heard Ramesh giving directions to someone, and I again heard how sorry I would be. My stomach hurt from laughing so hard.<\/p>\n Craig was on his feet and was dragging me away from the table. Through vision that was blurred with tears (and probably drunkenness as well) I was able to see Ramesh and Karen arguing, and then I was spun around and walking quickly down the street, away from the gothic girl and her Pakistani husband. The band was belting out I Believe I Can Fly, <\/em>a cover of a hit R and B song. As my laughter turned into giggles, and the music faded as we walked down the street, and I began to hum the tune when it became inaudible. I heard Craig talking about not wanting to stick around to meet Ramesh\u2019s friends, whoever they were.<\/p>\n I was too drunk to care, and half an hour later I was at home in bed, giggling to myself softly as I faded into a drunken slumber.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" We Are All Scarred I stood outside the concert hall, leaning against the brick wall and listening to the local band inside playing some punk rock version of Mmmmm Bop made famous by that goddamn pop group Hanson. The band was off beat and the singer was mediocre, but […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":748,"parent":148,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","template":"","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-175","page","type-page","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue13\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/175","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue13\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue13\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue13\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue13\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=175"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue13\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/175\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":681,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue13\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/175\/revisions\/681"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue13\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/148"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue13\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/748"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue13\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=175"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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\n\u201cKaren, what\u2019s wrong?\u201d he asked gently, leaning towards her.<\/p>\n