Out of Context
By Jennifer Kohl
“Excuse me?” asks Tina.
“I need you to tell me what it means,” I repeat.
“Why?”
“I can’t tell you.” It’s true. I’m trying to! But I can’t give any context at all. It’s part of the sp—shit! Can’t say that either. “Just... please. It’s important.”
“Well...” I can see Tina hesitating. But she’s been my friend for a long time—that’s why it has to be her—and I’m sure she can see how serious I am. “Okay. Tell it to me again?”
I take a deep breath and repeat the rhyme.
Speaking plainSoothing painLoving kindMirthful mindBody fairQuick to share
“Okay...” Tina says slowly. “Well, so... speaking plain is being straightforward, right? Honest and to the point. Soothing pain is, you know, making people feel better? This is so weird.”
“Believe me, I know.” She doesn’t know the half of it. That context clause is killing me. I can barely even think about the... the... the way this happened.
“Loving kind is a trick, though. It sounds like being loving and kind, but that’s not exactly right, it’s like a Biblical thing. Lovingkindness is another word for charity. Not like, money for the poor exactly, but being charitable with people. Forgiving them and giving them the benefit of the doubt. Right?”
I shrug. “I honestly couldn’t tell you,” I say. It’s true, though not the way I’m sure she thinks. I know what “lovingkindness” means, I just can’t say anything that would influence how she interprets the sp—the rhyme.
“What was the next one?” she asks, and I recite the whole rhyme again, automatically, before I even register the question. She doesn’t notice that part. “Right. Mirthful mind means you love to laugh, and body fair means a good body. You know, somebody who works out and takes care of themselves and looks good. And quick to share is the other kind of charitable, the actual charity kind. Am I right?”
I’m relieved. Nothing she said was terrible, and some of it was stuff I like to think is true already. And the rest, well, I mean, who wouldn’t like to be more fit? I brush back a strand of my straight brown hair and stand up. “Thank you, I have to go.”
“What? That’s it? I thought you called me out for lunch!”
I did, is the thing. And right up until this moment I had every intention of having lunch with my friend. But I can’t delay or resist this. The moment I have my friend’s interpretation, the compulsion seizes me: I have to find the next person. “Sorry,” I say. “I’d explain if I could.”
“Kelly! What’s wrong?” Tina’s getting worried now, I can see that.
“Sorry,” I repeat. But I’m already starting to walk away, leaving her alone at the little table in our favorite cafe.
I walk up to the bus stop on the corner and see a man waiting there. He glances at me, gives me a quick once-over, and then goes back to his phone. I can’t exactly blame him, I’m not the kind of person who gets looked at twice. I’m short, a little dumpy, and I tend to dress in sweatshirts and jeans most of the time. I’m not a troll or anything, I go on dates, but I’m not a head-turner by any means.
“Listen,” I say. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but I need you to tell me what this means.” And then I recite the rhyme.
“What? Who the hell are you?” he asks.
“I can’t tell you,” I say honestly. He’s a stranger, which is exactly what I need him to be. I can’t know his name and he can’t know mine. “Look, I know this sounds crazy.”
“Um, yeah,” he says. “Extremely crazy.” He looks like he’s considering taking a few steps away.
I can feel the heat rising to my face. I’m pale, so it’s really obvious when I’m embarrassed. And I know he can see me blushing, which makes me more embarrassed. I feel like every eye is on me, even though I know that’s ridiculous, and I want to run and hide before the pointing and laughing starts. But I can’t. I literally cannot; all I can do is keep going, no matter how embarrassed I get. “Please,” I say. “Do you need to hear it again?”
He’s going to refuse. I can see it on his face. He’s going to tell the crazy lady to back off, and then he’s going to move away, and I will die of embarrassment. But maybe, just maybe, that’ll break the—maybe it’ll free me. I can’t possibly be compelled to do it if it’s impossible, right? For the first time since I found myself compelled to call Tina, I feel some hope.
He opens his mouth—and then stops. His eyes flick back and forth wildly as his mouth opens and closes. I realize he can’t speak. He’s as caught in this as I am, and it’s not about to let me go that easily.
I sigh in defeat, my hopes shattered. “Please,” I say. “It’ll be easiest if you just answer. What does it mean?” I repeat the rhyme.
“Speaking plain is using simple language,” he says, his voice strained like every word is being pulled out of him. “Soothing pain means... It means soothing pain, right? I guess... relieving people of what’s bothering them? Loving kind, that’s warm and friendly and caring for people, and mirthful mind is—I dunno, being fun? And a body fair sounds like King Arthur or something—fair maiden, right? But fair hair means blonde. So both, I suppose? A cute blonde. And somebody who’s quick to share doesn’t hesitate to say what they’re thinking.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. It isn’t ideal—I’m not sure people would recognize a hot, blonde me, and I’m not sure what “fun” would do—but it could be a lot worse. “Thank you,” I say. “And sorry.”
And then I’m walking on to my next destination. The one I’ve been dreading the most. But I have no choice. It has to be him. What other enemies do I have? Politicians who don’t know I exist? My fourth-grade teacher, if she’s even still alive?
No. I can tell. The spell wants a personal enemy, and there’s only one person I’ve wronged and been wronged by enough to count.
I walk into the shop and there he is. Keith. My ex.
“You!” he says as I enter. “I told you never to come back in my store!”
“I know. But listen, I need—”
“I don’t care what you need! Get out!” He’s practically vibrating.
“I can’t! Please, I need you to—”
“Forget it. Whatever it is, you should have thought of it before you cheated on me.”
I’m not about to take that lying down. “You cheated on me! With my sister!”
“After you cheated on me!” he shouts.
“Because I found out you only went out with me to get close to my Janna! Who you later cheated on me with!”
He steps out from behind the counter. He’s not a menacing figure to most people, but he’s taller than me, and I shrink back. “I said to get out of my shop,” he says coldly.
“I would if I could, believe me,” I reply, trying to get my emotions under control. Thank God nobody else is in the shop. It would be beyond humiliating to be seen having a public fight with him, again. “But I need to know what this means.” And then I recite the rhyme.
“The fuck do you mean, you need to know what it means?” he replies. “I don’t care—” His mouth snaps shut. He opens and closes it a few times, just like the guy at the bus stop, and despite everything, I laugh. He looks like a fish!
Finally the words come out of him. “Speaking plain is like Plain English or the Simple Language Wiki.”
I roll my eyes. Him with the Wikipedia again, he was always updating it back when we dated.
“Only using the thousand most common words in English,” he continues, “and never using a longer word when one or two-syllable words suffice.”
Oh no. Oh no, no no no no no. This is bad. So, so bad.
“And as for soothing pain, well apparently for you that means saying whatever you think the other person wants to hear, regardless of how you feel about it. Like all those times you said you liked my music. Or—” He does the fish thing again. He’s getting off on a tangent, and the sp—and he can’t do that. “Loving kind, well you are that, aren’t you? So much the loving kind that you can’t keep it in your pants, you’ll fuck anyone.”
I want to cry. My eyes feel hot and prickly as I hear his bitter words and imagine what could happen to me when—oh, what the fuck, I can’t even say that? When the next thing happens!
“A mirthful mind is bubbly, giggly, ditzy—somebody unserious. And body fair, well, that’s obviously someone who’s stacked. Legs for days, lots of T&A, just one of those bodies that make you say nice. And quick to share, well, share what? The body fair? So a slut, in other words.”
I wince at his words. This is all about as bad as I could imagine. And any second now—
Something seems to pass through the air. A ripple, or a wave. Something is different. Keith stares at me.
“What’s happening?” he asks. “Why did I have to—holy shit, is your hair changing color?”
My body is changing. I can feel it. I touch my hair, gingerly; it’s in waves now, and when I pull it in front of my face to look at it, it’s strawberry blonde and getting blonder by the second. I look at Keith and I’m about to beg him to do something, anything, to help me, when there’s another ripple.
I bring my hands to my face. This should hurt, but it doesn’t; it just feels weird. My nose is shrinking, my lips plumping. I turn to see my reflection in the store window: the whole shape of my face is changing. Little button nose, heart-shaped face, my blue eyes getting bigger and rounder—I’m becoming cute.
Another ripple. The changes are coming faster now. My legs growing longer, slimmer, fat slithering under my skin from my belly and thighs to my hips, my butt, my breasts. I’m getting more toned, too, and my skin is clearing up. The person in my reflection isn’t me anymore. It’s some stranger—a gorgeous stranger.
Which might not be so bad, though it’d take a lot of getting used to—except I know what’s coming next.
Another ripple. And I can’t help it. This whole situation is just so ridiculous. I let out a nervous little giggle—and it feels good. I love to laugh! I giggle again, and it spreads warmth through me. I turn and see Keith still staring.
Oh god. He’s just... watching me. Watching me while I turn into this, this... giggling pinup! I want to shrink through the floor and disappear. Instead, I giggle again.
Fuck, that feels good.
But I’m dressed all wrong. I don’t look like my happy, fun-loving self, I look comfortable but drab. I shake my head. No, what am I thinking? I giggle again, and that good feeling makes it hard to focus, but I have to. I’m not averse to fun, but I’m not always happy. This is how I dress normally!
Ripple.
Oh thank God, now my clothes are changing. None of this boring shit? I’ve got a killer bod that the world needs to see, but who could even tell under this outfit? But the sweatshirt is shrinking and transforming into a cute little quarter-sleeve sweater in pale pink, with a low neckline that shows off the girls and a bare midriff that shows off all the work I’ve put into it. The jeans are shrinking too, and the legs merging into a little black barely-there denim miniskirt. And by the time I think to check my sneakers, they’re gone too, transformed into the cutest little sandals with—of course—fuck-me heels.
Something’s wrong with everything I just thought, but I can’t figure out what. Which is such a ridiculous thing, I can’t help but giggle. Keith is still staring, and wow does it feel good to be looked at like that! But... but I hate being stared at. I want to cringe away, but at the same time it’s just so hot to be checked out, to know I turn someone on.
Another ripple and I feel something different in my head. “Something’s changing in my head,” I say. “Oh! Right! The guy at the bus stop said I would say what I’m thinking.”
“What guy at the—Kelly, what is happening?” asks Keith.
“Whatever people told me the rhyme means, that’s what I’m becoming,” I think, so that’s what I say. “Also I’m getting really embarrassed by how I’m dressed and how you’re looking at me, because I’m Kelly. But it’s also really hot because I’m a slut now and I can’t keep it in my pants.” I giggle helplessly.
Ripple.
I feel a smile breaking out across my face. “Isn’t it awful to be enemies? We should be friends again.” Yeah, because I really want to be friends with this douchebag, I think, and don’t say. “I can’t lie anymore,” I say in horror. “I can’t even be sarcastic!” But I have to say what I think!
Ripple.
“I really want to be friends with you,” I say. “And I can’t lie, so everything I say is true, and I say everything I think, so everything I think is true.”
Ripple.
“I’m sorry for hurting you. Why am I sorry for hurting you?” I ask. “Oh, of course. I’m kind and generous and forgiving, Tina said so. I—I forgive you for hurting me.”
“Seriously?” he asks. “You’re way hotter than your sister now. If you want to get back together—”
But I don’t. Forgiving doesn’t mean pushover.
Ripple.
“I know you want me to say that I will, and—Oh God. Oh God, no. I—I—I can’t stop! I will! I have to say what you want me to say, and what I say is what I think and what I say and think is true. I—”
Ripple.
“I have to be what you want me to be. It’s the only way.” I smile and step toward him, and run a finger down the front of his shirt. “And I know what that is.”
“My metamorphosis is nearly—”
Ripple.
“I am almost done changing.” I pau—I stop and tas—feel my words in my mouth.
“Oh something,” he says. “I said you would only use common words! I’ve something you!” But he did not say something. I can not say or think what he said, the first one is too... too not common and the other is too compli—too big.
“And nothing with too many... too many... beats. I can not even say s... that word.” I look at him, eyes wide. “I say what I think! I can not even think it!” I can not help it; I gig—I make a little laugh.
“Wow, you really are turning into a d—,” he says, and then he gri—he smiles big. “I’m not much for going out with someone who can’t carry a conv—, but then...”
He trai—he slo—he not fast, stops speaking. I know what he wants, and it is true. “I am not for going out. Sluts like me are for fucking.” I give a little laugh again. I am happy!
And so that is who I am now. A happy, silly ditz who forgot all the big words and inside spends all her time humi—emba—feeling silly and shy about what she is doing and saying and thinking.
And I can not tell anyone how it happened, and I say what I think, so I can not think how it happened. Pretty soon I will forget I changed at all!
I give a little laugh and get on my kne—the middle of my legs to take his cock in my mouth.
* * *