Fiction: Yesterday's News

By Dmitriy Kogan

 

This guy who I went to high school with went on a shooting spree in a shopping mall. We all suspected that there was something wrong with him, but I didn’t know it would ever lead to that. He killed three women, two kids, and a man. Then he went into the restroom and turned the gun on himself.

I read the full story in the newspaper on my train ride to class. It didn’t happen in the city. It happened in a small town in Jersey. That’s where Oscar moved with his parents. He did a semester of community college before dropping out, according to the newspaper. 

I honestly hadn’t spoken to him after I graduated. I don’t think anyone I knew from high school kept in touch with him.

 

I fell asleep in my Intro to Philosophy class. It was in a lecture hall and I sat in the back and the professor didn’t see me sleeping. A girl woke me up. She was pretty hot, but had an annoyed look on her face. Maybe I was snoring. The class ended five minutes after I awoke.

My friend Monica texted me. She asked me if she wanted to get some coffee before her class started at three.

I texted her, ‘sure,’ and added that I didn’t have any classes for the rest of the day.

 

She was wearing a new peacoat when I met up with her in front of the coffee shop. We walked inside.

“How was your philosophy class?” she asked.

“It was wonderful. Slept through all of it.” 

I paid for the coffees.

“Do your parents know they’re paying full-time tuition for you to sleep, Al?”

“They won’t know. All the lectures are online now anyway. I’ll be fine.”

We sat down at a table.

“It’s getting so cold out,” she said.

“Yeah, that’s winter in New York City for you. So did you declare your major in music? What is it, music production?”

“Yeah, music production.”

“That’s great. What are you going to focus on? Piano or guitar?”

“You can take classes in both.”

“Yeah, but which one interests you more?”

“Piano.”

“You like Billy Joel?”

“Yeah, I like Billy Joel.”

I sipped my coffee. 

“How’s that music professor doing? The one you have a crush on.”

Monica bit her lip.

“What, he’s keeping you after class? Is he spanking you?”

“I slept with him.”

I went cold. 

“What?”

“He did keep me after class. And one thing led to another… And I came over his apartment.”

“Monica, that’s wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“A professor shouldn’t be sleeping with his students.”

“He was so good, though.”

I adjusted my seat. I felt like dropping my head on the table.

“I have to be honest. I really don’t respect you now.”

“Al, I’m not a little girl anymore. I can make adult decisions.”

It felt like everyone in the coffee shop could hear us. But Monica didn’t care. She wanted everyone to hear her. She looked so pleased with herself.

“I just don’t understand why you would do that.”

“Are you my boyfriend?” 

“What?”

“We’re not dating, numbskull.”

“I care about you.”

“You only met me last semester. How much could you possibly care about me? You didn’t even know that I liked piano more than guitar until I just fucking told you.”

“Monica, keep it down.”

“I’m not yelling.”

A couple was sitting next to us. They were around our age. One of the guys had a purple beanie and a goatee, and he looked like he was romancing the girl sitting across from him: a curvy blonde. Her cleavage was showing. Man. She must have been like a triple-D or something. Lucky guy.

“Al, where are you looking right now?”

“Sorry.”

“Well, I’m glad this conversation is coming to an end. Now we don’t have to talk about how you’ve just been trying to fuck me this whole time.”

“What?”

“You think I’m stupid? You think I haven’t had male friends before? You think I don’t know how it works?”

There was a giant lump in my throat.

“You wanted to fuck me. Hard. In every position. Just admit it.”

I felt like I could hardly breathe for a whole minute.

 

On the train ride home, I read the newspaper again. I felt bad about what happened to Oscar. No one should have to suffer such a sad fate. And the people he killed. It was such a shame.

 

 

 

 

 

Dmitriy Kogan is a short story writer, poet, and essayist from Staten Island, New York. His work has appeared in Stone of Madness Press and Oddball Magazine.