dreams and lies
Aug. 26th, 2003 11:24 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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ds_flashfictionTranslator's note:
This was posted last Saturday to LCV705 in Japanese, by a new author who is getting better and better. As it also accidentally fit into this week's challenge, I couldn't help but translate it. This piece was a shock to us, coming from someone who usually writes very sweet stories, but you see, we're at the end of S2 now. The author's note, "You can't just leave Fraser alone, Ray!" says it all to us.
Huge thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
imkalena and Santa Sato for beta and readthroughs, as well as, of course, the author herself! --Sakana
Warning: Death Story
"Look, Benny, I don't know if they have a similar thing up there in Canada, but down here in America we have this thing called friendship. And this is something that a friend would do. Like, for example, if one friend calls another friend and he's supposed to meet him at a certain time and a certain place and he can't be there, he usually calls him to let him know."
"So everything is all right, then?"
"Yeah, Benny. Everything is all right."
--Burning Down The House
Six Months
by Matsutakedo
I was going to tell him everything when I came back. It was only six months. Six lousy months in Vegas pretending to be a bigshot mob lieutenant, Armando 'the Bookman' Langoustini. Who just happened to look exactly like me. Six months. That was it.
I wake up to a scratch at the door. I can smell Ma's breakfast in the air. The wolf, a city dog now, sniffs raptly.
"Morning, Furface." A pat on his head, and he darts down the hall as soon as I open the door. I shower, shrug into my suit, and go down into the kitchen. It's Saturday morning; nobody but Ma's up yet.
"Morning, Ma."
"Good morning, Raimondo. You're up early."
"I'm going in to work today. Management job sucks, but that's life."
"Are you all right, caro?"
It's the same question she asks every morning for six months now, ever since I got back. I put on my usual smile and start tucking in. Ma leaves me alone, more or less, so long as I keep eating what she puts in front of me.
I'm fine. I don't feel a thing. Maybe I've been dead all this time. Maybe I died six months ago.
I dream every night -- two years worth of dreams.
***
I'm fresh out of the holding cell, and he's standing right in front of me in his brown uniform. I tell him I'm in love with him. "I know we only just met, but. . . I am." His eyes widen in surprise, and then he's smiling at me.
***
We kiss on the hood of the Riv, on the shore of Lake Michigan. "I got you . . . I got you in time, didn't I?" he gasps. I forget I almost drowned down there and kiss him back, just as fiercely.
***
In a freezer full of horsemeat, he's holding my shivering body tight. "I'll never let you die Ray, I swear." Wrapped in his arms, I feel peaceful as I close my eyes.
***
Two bodies tangle on top of the pool table. Our breath is white in the cold of the room. "Nobody can have you but me. Nobody." He's crying, nodding over and over at my words, his sobs turning gradually into sweet gasps of pleasure.
***
Dancing. A real dance, a romantic dance, with him finally out of that stupid dress. I can still smell that perfume. I nuzzle behind his ear and inhale deeply. He giggles like he's ticklish.
***
A phone call from Canada. Fraser is being polite but I cut him off. "I said I'll pick you up, okay? And I will. Just wait for me at O'Hare."
"But Ray, I can . . . "
"Don't give me that Canadian politeness crap. I'll be there."
"As my boyfriend?"
His voice sounds shy. He's probably blushing. I smile.
"Yeah, Benny. As your boyfriend."
***
Pulling him aside at the airport, I kiss him thoroughly, unable to hold back. I tell him in the Riv how I turned down the undercover gig the FBI tried to put the screws to me on.
"Two weeks and I was crawling the walls, Benny. How do you expect me to live six months without you?"
Clear blue eyes stare at me. His lashes fall then, and I see a tear roll down his cheek.
"Thank you, Ray."
"For what?"
"For not leaving me alone."
***
I wake up and I'm crying.
Lips that I never kissed. Skin that I never touched. Sweet dreams of happiness that never was.
I walk out my front door and get into the Riv. Instead of heading for the precinct, I find myself in West Racine. That rat hole of an apartment has been replaced by a fancy building; none of his old neighbors are still around. His dad's trunk was never recovered from the rubble. I'm not even sure anymore if he was ever here at all.
Nobody told me about the accident when it happened. They didn't want me to blow my cover. It was a simple case of a drunk driver hitting a pedestrian who was crazy enough to be walking on I-90 toward downtown Chicago. Fatality: the pedestrian, Canadian citizen, on his way back from a two-week vacation. Having no family, he was cremated by his appointed next of kin, and his ashes sent back to be scattered in his homeland.
Six months later, that next of kin -- who had never once met the guy who died -- one Stanley Kowalski, the fake Ray Vecchio, handed me the wolf and a backpack. I opened the backpack in the Riv.
A passport, some papers, and a wolf snack. A brown leather-bound journal. The last date of entry was the day I talked to him on the phone.
I can't be with Ray tomorrow. It's only one extra day after two weeks apart, yet my heart aches, reminding me exactly how much I have missed him. Please, God, that I still have my courage to tell him that I love him when I see him in Chicago.
The world blurred and then disappeared. I heard a howl somewhere that wasn't Dief's. It took me a while to realize it was mine. Only six months. I left you alone, and you left me behind.
I love him. I was supposed to tell him that when I got back. It was only six months. I thought nothing would change.
Six months. And then Benny and I, we would . . . the two of us . . . I love you . . . I love you . . . I love you . . .
They promoted me to lieutenant, and my life is back to normal, but not back to a year ago. It's back to two years before that.
Forty-one cases piled on my desk, all of them frustrating as hell. But none of them are "the dead Mountie thing" that lay on top of my pile that day. The pristine brown uniform is nowhere to be seen.
I park on the hill overlooking Lake Michigan, and take the journal out of my glove box. Benny, I miss you so much.
I dream every night. I dream two years worth of lies.
This was posted last Saturday to LCV705 in Japanese, by a new author who is getting better and better. As it also accidentally fit into this week's challenge, I couldn't help but translate it. This piece was a shock to us, coming from someone who usually writes very sweet stories, but you see, we're at the end of S2 now. The author's note, "You can't just leave Fraser alone, Ray!" says it all to us.
Huge thanks to
imkalena and Santa Sato for beta and readthroughs, as well as, of course, the author herself! --SakanaWarning: Death Story
"Look, Benny, I don't know if they have a similar thing up there in Canada, but down here in America we have this thing called friendship. And this is something that a friend would do. Like, for example, if one friend calls another friend and he's supposed to meet him at a certain time and a certain place and he can't be there, he usually calls him to let him know."
"So everything is all right, then?"
"Yeah, Benny. Everything is all right."
--Burning Down The House
Six Months
by Matsutakedo
I was going to tell him everything when I came back. It was only six months. Six lousy months in Vegas pretending to be a bigshot mob lieutenant, Armando 'the Bookman' Langoustini. Who just happened to look exactly like me. Six months. That was it.
I wake up to a scratch at the door. I can smell Ma's breakfast in the air. The wolf, a city dog now, sniffs raptly.
"Morning, Furface." A pat on his head, and he darts down the hall as soon as I open the door. I shower, shrug into my suit, and go down into the kitchen. It's Saturday morning; nobody but Ma's up yet.
"Morning, Ma."
"Good morning, Raimondo. You're up early."
"I'm going in to work today. Management job sucks, but that's life."
"Are you all right, caro?"
It's the same question she asks every morning for six months now, ever since I got back. I put on my usual smile and start tucking in. Ma leaves me alone, more or less, so long as I keep eating what she puts in front of me.
I'm fine. I don't feel a thing. Maybe I've been dead all this time. Maybe I died six months ago.
I dream every night -- two years worth of dreams.
***
I'm fresh out of the holding cell, and he's standing right in front of me in his brown uniform. I tell him I'm in love with him. "I know we only just met, but. . . I am." His eyes widen in surprise, and then he's smiling at me.
***
We kiss on the hood of the Riv, on the shore of Lake Michigan. "I got you . . . I got you in time, didn't I?" he gasps. I forget I almost drowned down there and kiss him back, just as fiercely.
***
In a freezer full of horsemeat, he's holding my shivering body tight. "I'll never let you die Ray, I swear." Wrapped in his arms, I feel peaceful as I close my eyes.
***
Two bodies tangle on top of the pool table. Our breath is white in the cold of the room. "Nobody can have you but me. Nobody." He's crying, nodding over and over at my words, his sobs turning gradually into sweet gasps of pleasure.
***
Dancing. A real dance, a romantic dance, with him finally out of that stupid dress. I can still smell that perfume. I nuzzle behind his ear and inhale deeply. He giggles like he's ticklish.
***
A phone call from Canada. Fraser is being polite but I cut him off. "I said I'll pick you up, okay? And I will. Just wait for me at O'Hare."
"But Ray, I can . . . "
"Don't give me that Canadian politeness crap. I'll be there."
"As my boyfriend?"
His voice sounds shy. He's probably blushing. I smile.
"Yeah, Benny. As your boyfriend."
***
Pulling him aside at the airport, I kiss him thoroughly, unable to hold back. I tell him in the Riv how I turned down the undercover gig the FBI tried to put the screws to me on.
"Two weeks and I was crawling the walls, Benny. How do you expect me to live six months without you?"
Clear blue eyes stare at me. His lashes fall then, and I see a tear roll down his cheek.
"Thank you, Ray."
"For what?"
"For not leaving me alone."
***
I wake up and I'm crying.
Lips that I never kissed. Skin that I never touched. Sweet dreams of happiness that never was.
I walk out my front door and get into the Riv. Instead of heading for the precinct, I find myself in West Racine. That rat hole of an apartment has been replaced by a fancy building; none of his old neighbors are still around. His dad's trunk was never recovered from the rubble. I'm not even sure anymore if he was ever here at all.
Nobody told me about the accident when it happened. They didn't want me to blow my cover. It was a simple case of a drunk driver hitting a pedestrian who was crazy enough to be walking on I-90 toward downtown Chicago. Fatality: the pedestrian, Canadian citizen, on his way back from a two-week vacation. Having no family, he was cremated by his appointed next of kin, and his ashes sent back to be scattered in his homeland.
Six months later, that next of kin -- who had never once met the guy who died -- one Stanley Kowalski, the fake Ray Vecchio, handed me the wolf and a backpack. I opened the backpack in the Riv.
A passport, some papers, and a wolf snack. A brown leather-bound journal. The last date of entry was the day I talked to him on the phone.
I can't be with Ray tomorrow. It's only one extra day after two weeks apart, yet my heart aches, reminding me exactly how much I have missed him. Please, God, that I still have my courage to tell him that I love him when I see him in Chicago.
The world blurred and then disappeared. I heard a howl somewhere that wasn't Dief's. It took me a while to realize it was mine. Only six months. I left you alone, and you left me behind.
I love him. I was supposed to tell him that when I got back. It was only six months. I thought nothing would change.
Six months. And then Benny and I, we would . . . the two of us . . . I love you . . . I love you . . . I love you . . .
They promoted me to lieutenant, and my life is back to normal, but not back to a year ago. It's back to two years before that.
Forty-one cases piled on my desk, all of them frustrating as hell. But none of them are "the dead Mountie thing" that lay on top of my pile that day. The pristine brown uniform is nowhere to be seen.
I park on the hill overlooking Lake Michigan, and take the journal out of my glove box. Benny, I miss you so much.
I dream every night. I dream two years worth of lies.
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Apology and correction
Date: 2003-08-27 05:23 am (UTC)Its Matsutakedo, not Matsukedo.
My sincere apologies, Matsu!!
--Sakana
Correction and apology
Date: 2003-08-27 05:25 am (UTC)It's Matsutakedo, not Matsukedo.
My sincere apologies, Matsu!
--Sakana
Uh oh.
Date: 2003-08-27 05:28 am (UTC)and another apology. . .
Date: 2003-08-27 12:36 pm (UTC)by Matsutakedo
Date: 2003-08-27 11:33 am (UTC)Thank You,Kindly!
You are the person who stated the first comment to the tale which I who was translated into English wrote.
Because it isn't good at my writing a sad tale, this is one exception which is.
The fan in we Japan doesn't know RayK yet, at present, I am writing Benny/RayV tales mainly.
Of course, the heart where I love them isn't changed but I make the day when it is possible to meet him a heart wait.
(Sorry!My English Skill is so Bad!)
Re: by Matsutakedo
Date: 2003-08-27 11:49 am (UTC)Let me say it correctly: Matsutakedo, this is excellent! I love the way you've given details for things that never happened.
I'm sure you'll love Kowalski when you finally get to see him - he's a total sweetheart.
(And don't worry about your English: I'm an AET and my students have *terrible* English, so your English seems *excellent* to me!)
You and Sakana make a great team, and I hope you'll dazzle us some more. You could probably poke Sakana and make her translate her own stories, too. *g*
no subject
Date: 2003-08-27 11:23 am (UTC)This was amazing.
Welcome to flashfiction, and please don't ever leave! *g*
by Matsutakedo
Date: 2003-08-27 11:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-27 11:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-27 01:01 pm (UTC)The translation owes a lot to Kalena. My first draft had me twisting over just about every other word, going, "do you say that in English?" She was kind enough to offer her help to a total newbie who hadn't even spoken to her before, and guided me through each step. Kindheartedness to strangers is clearly not a quality limited to Fraser!
--Sakana
no subject
Date: 2003-08-27 03:54 pm (UTC)To Matsutakedo --I never told you, personally, how good this is! Your writing has a lot of emotional depth. I certainly hope to see more! :)
by Matsutakedo
Date: 2003-08-27 04:38 pm (UTC)I make a sad tale weak originally.
That you liked it is very good.
no subject
Date: 2003-08-27 11:32 am (UTC)by Matsutakedo
Date: 2003-08-27 11:42 am (UTC)Thank You,Kindly.(^-^)/
no subject
Date: 2003-08-27 12:27 pm (UTC)by Matsutakedo
Date: 2003-08-27 12:42 pm (UTC)Have a nice day!
no subject
Date: 2003-08-27 12:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-27 01:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-27 02:59 pm (UTC)--Sakana
no subject
Date: 2003-08-27 01:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-27 01:30 pm (UTC)Wow.
Like many others, I'm not a fan of death stories, but this transcends my aversion to them. It's so beautifully written and constructed, and the feeling of Ray's longing is so intense and painful, that I can only say, thank you so much for posting this. And we really don't care if it's "too long." The number of words doesn't really matter -- it's the quality that counts, and this is an exceptional piece.
by Matsutakedo
Date: 2003-08-27 02:11 pm (UTC)Because I so loved RayV.
You like it and are glad!
no subject
Date: 2003-08-27 01:33 pm (UTC)by Matsutakedo
Date: 2003-08-27 02:05 pm (UTC)Thank You,Kindly!(^-^)/
no subject
Date: 2003-08-27 02:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-27 02:06 pm (UTC)-qwerty
Amazing
Date: 2003-08-27 02:50 pm (UTC)Re: Amazing
Date: 2003-08-27 03:12 pm (UTC)My guess is, Matsutakedo herself actually DOESN'T like deathfic very much. But I did. Hee. I'm the one who should be blamed for choosing this one in particular to share, and for making everyone sad.
--Sakana
no subject
Date: 2003-08-27 03:53 pm (UTC)by Matsutakedo
Date: 2003-08-27 04:50 pm (UTC)My dear translator "SAKANA" may translate it.
Maybe,Someday...
Re: by Matsutakedo
Date: 2003-08-27 05:36 pm (UTC)I'm a big fan of yours, Jodie, ever since Ces pointed us to your "Meet Porno Fraser." Or does it say something about me that I like your stories? (Oh! Could be I should have kept that a secret. . . *g* By the way I mean this as a complement, not an insult.)
About more translations? I don't know if I can ever do Japanese-to-English again. . . But maybe. Just maybe. Someday. Like, in a very distant future, someday. Because this was much, much tougher than it seemed at first glance. Much tougher than the other way around.
Oh, and if you're thinking about asking me to translate the song to that kikkoman flash, you can forget it. I *refuse* to do that!*g*
--Sakana
Re: by Matsutakedo
Date: 2003-08-27 05:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-27 04:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-27 06:48 pm (UTC)This is sad, desperate-feeling stuff. Ray, just trying to get through the days now, when he's lost so much, so very much never tried for. I was left with a vivid mental image of Benny walking down that highway alone, and Ray just crushed by the guilt of what happened.
This is tremendously well done!
no subject
Date: 2003-08-28 01:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-28 05:45 am (UTC)"It was a simple case of a drunk driver hitting a pedestrian who was crazy enough to be walking on I-90 toward downtown Chicago."
The FBI killed him.
Bastards.
Great story, to all of you, by the way!!!
Julia
Deidre
Date: 2003-09-08 07:17 pm (UTC)