B. Hayer (born 1993 in West Germany) is a writer who owns many hats. Right now, he is wearing a beanie in fear of losing his hair. He consulted his mirror, but he is afraid it might have lied to him out of spite.
The Racecar Driver
38. And alone? Yes. Without anyone? Yes. Left alone? Undecided. Who’s fault is it anyway? I was left alone. She is asking questions. She is asking the questions now. She likes to swim. I can swim. She is a woman, and I am a man. We were introduced. Why aren’t we leaving together? It isn’t official. What protocol are we following here exactly? She laughs. That’s rare. It is unprecedented. It is misunderstood. I am staring at her. Angry. I notice. I am smiling with my whole clenched set of teeth. She’s still in front of me. Laughing less but a little warmer than before, the way her cheeks turn rosy red. I feel tall. Who could it be now? The waiter. I am a man. She likes me. His shoulders stay empty at my heavy proclamation. Do we want cake? She is watching. I am watching. He is watching. She is laughing. I am happy. I am angry. No cake. The bill, please. I said the bill. I have decided on the bill. She likes me. She is laughing, man. Bring the cake. We wanted cake. The bill. Are we leaving? She is smiling. I am crying. She can’t see. She will define me. She does define me. Does he know? The waiter? We are outside. We stand together. We stand together. Her name is We Stand Together. Her hair is—we stand together. Her eyes are—we stand together. The cab. The cab driver. Are we leaving? She’s waving. She’s taking my hand. We are leaving. We’re leaving together. We’re leaving together. My name is—we’re leaving together. My job is—we’re leaving together. My address—we’re leaving together. Where are we going? We’re going; we’re going; we are going. Are we stopping? We are going on. She is resting. I am racing. Ahead. I am leading the cab. In the cab behind me are the driver, a woman, and someone. The driver plus two are inside the cab. I was we. Just tonight. She was laughing. She was smiling. I was someone. She is smiling at him. I am raging at him. Eyes on the road. Can I raise the question of who she is with? Eyes on the road. He is a lover. Eyes on the road. I am a racecar driver. Eyes on the road. I need to be fast. I am a racecar driver. Ahead of them. Eyes on the road. Ahead of myself. I need to be fast. They are fast. They are good. I need to be faster. My name is Racecar Driver. My job is racecar driving. My address is the first place. I leave them behind. I am in first place. Alone? Yes. Without anyone? Yes. Left alone? I am a racecar driver. I need to be fast. First place. Yes.