Back at the river I had one hour left
before I had to beat feet back to the train.
The Russian chick and I were sitting there in
the mud, sharing space and time and cigarettes.
I’d taken one from her and it was as bad
as I’d imagined it would be. Tasted like
shit. “Hey, what does your city flag look like?” she
asked me. I just shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never
paid attention to that sort of thing. I know
my state flag is red, white and … uh … I know I
could pick it out of a lineup.” More silence.
“So,” I finally said. “Tell me about your
lovely town.” “There’s not much to tell,” she remarked.
“You’ve seen the cow and the river. There’s little
else to see.” “What’s the cow’s name?” I asked. “Victor,”
she answered. “Just like The Lone Ranger’s nephew’s
horse,” I muttered. The woman made a face. “Who?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “I’ve been thinking,
though, about an idea I’ve had.” “Do tell,”
she mumbled, lighting another death stick and
shifting in the mud. “Well,” I began, “There’s this
movie about a hyper-intelligent
guy named Will Hunting, right? He can see all the
angles in life. He’s read nearly all the books
in the library and can recite them word-
for-word when the need arises. He tells his
girlfriend he doesn’t know how he can do the
things he can do. She wants to know how his mind
works and he can’t explain it. He says something
like, ‘I look at a piano, I see a
bunch of keys, three pedals and a box of wood,
but Beethoven? Mozart? They saw it – they could
just play. I couldn’t paint you a picture. I
probably can’t hit the ball out of Fenway
and I can’t play the piano, but when it
comes to stuff like that I could always just play.’”
I took a drag from my cigarette and thought
I might puke. “How do you smoke these?” I asked her.
“You get used to it,” she said. “It’s like coffee.”
I nodded and smiled. So did she. “What were
you saying before? What could that Will Hunting
guy play?” I shrugged. “It’s hard to say. The actor
who played him is named Matt Damon. He’s not bad.
In fact, he’s pretty damned good. But then I watched
this movie called The Bourne Identity and
once again, there’s Matt Damon telling some girl
he’s hanging out with that he doesn’t know how
he can do the things he can do, he just does
them. He says it to a doctor on a boat
in the beginning of the movie, too. That
got me thinking…” The woman looked at me and
raised her eyebrows, expectantly. “I believe
Jason Bourne is actually Will Hunting.
He’s driving away at the end of the film,
right? He’s driving a hunk of junk from Boston
to California. It’s going to break down.
Guaranteed. Now … Will Hunting is poor. He needs
work, so he takes a job at a McDonalds
in Colorado and really does serve fries
to that asshole frat boy from the bar who liked
apples and Vickers, only this time the guy
is working for the CIA and recruits
Will into their service as an assassin.
I mean, why not, right? Skyler’s gone – shacked up with
some guy who plays for the Lakers – might as well
kill people. He even says that in Dogma,
which is just Will Hunting’s afterlife. His name
is Loki, then, and he’s the angel of death.
His angel buddy Bartleby looks just like
Chucky from Good Will Hunting because he was
Chucky – that’s why the car didn’t run. It had
to break down in Colorado so Will could
turn into Jason Bourne: Super Killer. He’s
still just Will from Boston, though, so he can’t help
but be attracted to the brunette girl with
a funny accent. It’s almost as if his
soul and hers are connected somehow. Like they’re
tailor-made for one another. I don’t know.
Just a theory. I’m not saying I’m right or
anything, but the pieces fit.” The woman
smiled slightly and pulled her hair away from
her face – she almost looked Japanese. In the
distance a train whistle blew and both of us
turned to look. “I’d better go,” I said. “Don’t want
to miss your train,” she replied. I stood up. So
did she. We hugged and said goodbye, then I turned
and began the 3.8 kilometer
trek back to the station, I never did catch…