Sam Rockwell and I met up in a caboose train with dim lighting and the drone of an ancient PA system echoing around us. It was the latest trend in restaurants—entrepreneurs rescuing old freight trains and other abandoned industrial steel containers and turning them into trendy eateries. Sam was taller than I thought and he wore a mustache, like he did in that robbery flick, Heist, with Gene Hackman. I wasn't crazy about the facial hair—it engulfed his small face like a brush fire and I told him so.
“I liked you best in Choke—you were sexy in a lazy, sort of ‘70s way.”
He blushed and said he couldn't watch that film, didn't like to see himself so naked on the screen.
We talked about backgammon and croquet, two sports he really admired and I told him I was keen on poker. He gave me a look straight out of Moon—a bewildered and sickly glance. “So, why choose me?” he asked and tapped his fingers on the table loudly.
The waiter bounded over—an old railroad worker's hat on his head. “No, we're okay,” I said and told Sam I admired his staunch accountability—his precise ability to sneak into a scene and take over. “But honestly, I like your stature—your swindled physique.”
And I did, I really did, I felt like I was in one of those first loves, a love so strange and strong, you want to gulp that person up, keep swimming in their everyday. But instead I said, “I'd like to dig my nails into your side, sort of etch my way down until I reached the center, and I could think about the wicked, wounded world I don't belong to.”
I think he was confused—didn't know what to say, so used to playing parts and reading lines. But it was okay; I loved him simply for that, simply for his gestures, his humbled way. We nibbled on canned beans and pickled eggs and other railroad food I couldn't identify and just then, as the blue, tired world followed us from the tiny windows of the train car, he did a great imitation of Gordon Ramsey shouting at his kitchen staff. The wait staff got nervous and kicked us out and we took the pickled eggs with us.
We walked for hours, the slow moon behind us. He told me the best thing about trains were that you were always moving—always heading towards the best and leaving the worst behind. “It's sort of like acting," he said, “build me a container, put it on wheels, roll me by the world and the rest of you can fuck off.”
I imagined him curled up on a berth in a sleeper car, the paparazzi outside snapping photos. And just then the moon left us and we fell asleep, right there on the rails. I dreamt of life in the woods, a tiny house made of twigs and spirit; and he dreamt of auditions.
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Published at: Used Furniture Review
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This started out from the prompt: what actor would you most like to have dinner with–and it's true, I do like Sam Rockwell...
Dinner with Sam Rockwell! What makes this so delightful is the dialogue, especially. Things like: "swindled physique" and "etch my way down until I reached the center and I could think about the wicked, wounded world I don't belong to."
So good. Great read, Shelagh. *
Sharpened into life by the so apt details, this is convincing from the git-go. If Sam ever needs to retrieve his real personality he needs only to look here.
hey thanks guys! David, this is his real personality, don't you know that...
Just a little kinky, but in a nice way. Sorry, but I had to google this guy. I've been ... away for a while.
* for originality, prompt notwithstanding.
this is great! i love it. wonderful, creative, soaks you into the story, risque yet endearing. is that possible? :)
Thanks, James! Don't feel bad, a friend of mine had to as well, she doesn't watch movies too much. He's been a character actor for awhile, sort of getting his glory now.
Thanks so much, Christina! Risque yet endearing...sounds like an old boyfriend of mine ...;)
Great read, filled with just the kinds of lines I love. The sparse dialogue is so strong, it balances perfectly with the narrative. *
Thanks, Foster, appreciate you reading it!
Wonderful piece, Shelagh. Good writing - "We walked for hours, the slow moon behind us. He told me the best thing about trains were that you were always moving—always heading towards the best and leaving the worst behind."
I like it.
Hey thanks Sam!
I love the setting here, the fact that it’s no ordinary dinner. And the play between the two of them is just great. Really nice!
This story is quite beautiful and filled with poetry. She is such a romantic figure, and he is such a guy: the way of the world, I suppose (boo hoo).
But getting back to your story: lots of original quirk in this and such beautiful language.
*
Thanks, Kari and Susan. Really appreciate comments on this, interesting to have a new look at their dialogue/relationship?from others eyes...
Loved this at UFR. And not just because I too harbor deep feelings for Sam Rockwell. *
Simply put, this is the most enjoyable thing I've read in a long time.
Thank you Julie! I guess that means we should become official stalkers...!
Boudreau, you're too kind..but I do like that it entertained you...
Read this earlier at UFR and loved it. It's all just so natural and easy. Nice.
Excellent read. Well written and entertaining. It goes in unexpected directions.
Thanks Susan! Loved your piece as well, that ending was great.
Thank you, Christian!
Nice!
I am in love with this sentence: "...you were sexy in a lazy, sort of ‘70s way.”
Awesome.
Thank you Jules, guess I won't change the excerpt then!
so vibrant, sensual and right there "the slow moon behind us" - your words glow. This story is luminous.
Thank you, Meg, really appreciate that...!
Thanks for the ride. Brilliant, delightful. *
Always thought love and trains partner well together, and they don't disappoint here. Beautiful writing. *
Thank you, Jack & Kim! And I agree with you Kim, must the transient nature of trains, anywhere to go is to be someone...
I kept writing/re-writing my comment because there is so much I wanted to say about how I love this, but each sounded contrived and insincere. So I'll keep it simple: love this.
There. That wasn't so hard, afterall.
Thanks so much, Erin!