Kieran went out to lunch with his body—specifically his lungs and his balls. They met at the greasy spoon by the river. His balls were seventeen minutes late.
“Sorry we’re late,” they said. “We were picking out drapes with your old lady.”
Kieran smiled at his own genius. Years ago, he figured out how to separate himself from his organs. This saved him a lot of time wasted with girlfriends and school as he could delegate tasks to his individual parts. Marta, his most recent girlfriend, was a big fan of sending his balls out for errands. Even after Kieran and she broke up.
The hefty waitress came over and took everyone’s order. Kieran’s balls got pigs in a blanket and his lungs got black coffee. Kieran got a short stack. While they waited for their food, he pulled out a clove cigarette and lit it. It crackled like a cheap sparkler.
“What?” he said, cigarette dangling from his red lips.
The organs stared daggers. “You know those will kill you,” said his lungs. “They’ll kill us.”
“There’s no smoking in here,” said the waitress as she walked past.
Kieran shrugged and plopped the cigarette in a half empty glass of water. The butt puffed up and bobbed along the top of the water while ashes drifted to the bottom of the glass.
“So how’s things?” Kieran asked his lungs.
“’How are things,’” corrected the lungs. “They’re fine. I’ve been reading a lot lately.”
“That sounds boring,” said Kieran looking over his shoulder at the window and the parking lot beyond.
“And what are you doing that’s so great then?” the lungs demanded.
Kieran’s balls stacked toothpicks on their plate.
“I’ve been living, man. I’m out every night living and loving.” His skin looked like wet newsprint, his eyes were bloodshot, and it had clearly been days since he’d showered.
His balls reached out for his hands. “We’re worried about you,” they said. “Come back to Marta’s.”
“Screw that,” Kieran said. “That chick just wants me to be her lap dog. Just like you pusses.”
“That was really unnecessary,” said his lungs.
His balls let out a suppressed sniffle. The waitress topped off the lungs’ coffee and took away the cup of water with the butt.
“Have you talked to Brain lately?” said the lungs.
“I haven’t heard from him since he got married to my heart,” said Kieran. He pushed the melting pat of butter through the syrup on his plate.
“They’ll make beautiful children. I’ve always thought that,” said Kieran’s balls.
“Remember that time we went to that party with that Armenian chick? What was her name?” Kieran said.
“Shirin, I do believe,” said his lungs. “She really liked your liver, didn’t she?”
“They were terrible for each other. You know it’s bad when I’m telling my liver to slow down. What ever happened to her?”
“She dropped out of college and started doing porn,” Lungs said.
“Shit. I have to find that,” said Kieran.
“Marta says you keep popping up in her dreams,” Kieran’s balls say to him.
“And that’s my problem how? Man, is she clingy.”
“She cares about you,” his balls mumble.
“Will this check be together or separate?” the waitress said.
“Together,” Kieran said, eyes locked onto the bust of her grease-stained uniform.
“Separate, please,” said his lungs, looking into her eyes.
“Why don’t we do this more often?” said the balls.
“You’ll have to ask Kieran,” said his lungs.
“I don’t get why I’m always treated like the bad guy here. I found out how to separate all of you guys and then you all get butt hurt over it. Move on. I don’t need any of you anymore.”
“What do you say to that?” ask the balls.
“You say goodbye,” said the lungs, buttoning his coat and rising from the table.
Kieran turned twelve inside a hospital. It was summer. He was diagnosed with an arrhythmia and his mother was terrified for his life. The pediatric ward was overfull while he stayed at the hospital and he had to share a room with an old woman for a week. There was a thin curtain, but it didn’t block out much noise or offer any privacy. One night, Kieran heard loud gurgling and what sounded like the sheets being thrown from the bed. He went to sleep, and when he awoke the next morning, the old lady’s bed was no longer there. His condition got better as he grew, but after that stint in the hospital, he developed a disobedient streak. Marta wondered if he didn’t resign to die at thirteen and kept on living from there.
“Kids shouldn’t have to go through that kind of stuff,” she told him once. “They’re not equipped for those kinds of events yet.”
***
Kieran left a half roll of nickels on the table for a tip. His lungs gave the roll a look of acquiescence. Kieran zipped his musty jacket and followed his balls to the cash register.
“Hey,” he said to Balls. “Tell Marta I said hi.”
“Will do,” his balls said.
“We’ll be seeing you around,” said his lungs. Then Kieran gave his lungs an odd sort of side hug. His lungs squirmed for a minute, and then hugged him back.
The organs walked out of the door first, and then Kieran stepped out into the bracing wind.
