Side B: The Ballad of Heartman & Songstress
THE LITTLE MAN in Jessica’s heart began his preparations in silence. He picked up an arrow, but reconsidered. Today called for something smaller. It was time to use the tiny darts. Why? It didn’t matter. Heartman worked on intuition. He just knew.
At that exact moment, the little woman in Jessica’s brain sang “Pretty Maids All In A Row” in her quiet, soothing voice. The harmonies were harmonious. She was Cyranoniously Cyranesque.
What was the impetus for her lyrical outburst of musical Tourette’s? The song was one of her favorites. She already liked this Benji character. He reminded her of the other one, but only a smidgen. This time was different. Special. Could Benji make Jessica happy? Yes. Yes he could. When Jessica was happy, the Songstress was glad. She yearned for that same type of happiness herself.
Maybe today she’d go meet with the man in the heart. She’d always wanted to. Benji could keep Jessica company for now. Heartman would make a great companion. He’d be a better partner than those guys who ran the feet. Singing and dancing seemed like a natural pairing, but something was lacking. She was so over those commitment-fearing guys, but they wouldn’t leave her alone. And there were so many of them! Love songs were more powerful. Why hadn’t she contemplated this before now? She was too busy singing Jessica’s favorite songs to have a thought of her own.
Traveling from the brain to the heart was a short trip. Songstress took the express vein train. The need to take a train at all was a little odd, but distances scaled in funny ways here. Not funny ha ha, just funny strange. But no stranger than a little woman and a bunch of tiny dudes living in someone’s body who helped them sing and run and fall in love.
Benji’s arrival in Jessica’s life gave Songstress the luxury of a much needed day off. Even the little woman who lives in your brain deserved a break sometimes. Life could play out with a natural soundtrack for a little while. It could march to the beat of the heart. She could too.
Heartman’s door was open. And then it was closed. And then it was open. It had a certain rhythm to it. Songstress entered the open valve without knocking. It felt a little presumptuous that he’d welcome her, but she cast her doubts aside. Heartman was on his stomach in a sniper’s pose, crossbow out with three tiny darts lined up at the ready. Today he meant business. She watched him shoot the darts into Jessica’s bloodstream, then began her song.
It was the first time she’d performed live for anyone else. She supposed she was still performing for Jessica since she was still inside her. This was a song for Jessica, but also for herself. Her separate self. And for Heartman, who she hoped would soon be hers. A heartsong for a new heartthrob.
Heartman grooved out to the mesmerizing melody and smiled. He had heard rumors of an alluring Songstress sourcing sounds from the top floor, but this performance was his first proof that they were true. You couldn’t trust anything those foot guys ever said without verifying it for yourself. They were a tribe of exaggerators, always running their mouths while running the feet.
Heartman turned to the Songstress and bowed, awed to be in the company of an angel. She beckoned him with a wave of her hand and sang her plan. At the beginning he only listened, but by the time the second chorus came around he nodded in agreement. His nods were in perfect time to the beat of Jessica’s heart. Their heart. Heartman had so many questions he wanted to ask her, but there would be time for that later. Songstress insisted they act now, before the feet ruined everything.
She helped Heartman carry his quiver of darts down the torso, past the groin and into the legs. They found the men in the left foot first, running at top speed on their treadmills. Sprinting backwards, trying with all of their might to keep Jessica from falling in love with Benji.
Heartman shot a dart. Jessica felt a tingling sensation of pins and needles. Her foot was asleep. Or so she thought. She shook it, tapping her heel on the ground to regain some feeling. Just enough movement to serve as the diversion Heartman needed. He managed to subdue the entire quintet with just one dart. Using a siren song as a distraction made things easy. Almost too easy.
The ones in the right foot would be more amiable foes. They always were. The foes in the toes. They practiced self- defense, and that made them dangerous. But this was a ball they couldn’t kick.
Upon reaching the right foot, Heartman and Songstress found those soldiers were already asleep. It was as if the left foot ambush had somehow equally impacted the right. Heartman fired a dart at the big toe anyways, just to be safe.
Did this amount to sub-molecular sabotage? It depended on your point of view. Songstress considered the feet saboteurs of love, making things cold or awkward with their dragging and stepping on toes. They never learned to dance, and that wouldn’t stand right now. Jessica needed to get back on the floor for another chance at love, and Songstress wasn’t letting any body parts get in Heartman’s way. Not after what happened with the other one.
Happy to both have an ally and to eliminate a competitor, Heartman was all in. The body didn’t run off a traditional hierarchical structure, but it was safe to say a resident of the brain was looked up to as de facto head honcho. They had access to the control center and the monitoring systems, so the odds of being discovered from the inside were low. And very few outsiders had microscopes powerful enough to detect the little people.
Pleased with the way they executed her plan, Songstress took Heartman by the hand and sought the elevator out of the legs.
##
AFTER NEUTRALIZING THE men in both feet, Songstress and Heartman were nearly inseparable. Both worried what would happen if they abandoned their assigned posts for extended periods, so most of their time together was spent at her place. They reasoned leaving the heart unattended was less risky than leaving the brain. Better to be occasionally empty-hearted than empty-headed. The heart muscle itself ran autonomously, so Heartman could handle loving matters with equal efficiency from upstairs.
Standing side by side they peered through the dual windows known as “eyes” to mere mortals. Jessica had a spectacular view. So did she, Songstress supposed. A perk of living in Jessica’s brain.
Via this viewport they observed Jessica out shopping with Benji. A redux of that initial chance meeting at the grocery store. He handed her a note. The paper filled Songstress’s vision, temporarily blocking the outward scenery.
Close up, it wasn’t a note. It was another list. Actually a series of lists on a single sheet:
Wood Block
Ant Trap
IT (paperback)
Beeswax
Sugar
-
IF (magazine)
Lamb
Cod
Beer
IN (door sign)
Heart
Wheat Power
Mirror
-
Scale
THAT (not this)
Eyedropper Innerspace (movie)
Lovers & Other Strangers (movie)
Weathervane
Ukulele
-
Sewing Machine
Easel
To Do List
Songstress wasn’t sure what it meant or what purpose it served. Heartman suspected some sort of scavenger hunt. Outsiders often sought something somewhere for senseless reasons.
One thing the insiders didn’t have to speculate about was the potency of Heartman’s weaponry. When Jessica lowered the list to gaze at Benji it was clear the darts were working. Their eyes were like billboards, unable to hide anything. Songstress sang a celebratory song. Teamwork had paid off.
Combining matters of the head and the heart had not led to disaster. They complemented each other quite well. Logistical problems weren’t so bad when Heartman had his say, and Songstress now understood why all the greatest songs were written about love. She had found an external muse to sing about alongside an internal one to sing to, and she wanted the feeling to last.
What if Heartman didn’t feel the same way? Maybe she needed him to use one of his arrows on himself. Or maybe the little man in Heartman’s heart would do so for her.
Was there a little woman in her own brain singing to her? Was there one in Heartman’s head? If so, would Songstress be jealous of the littler woman? She wondered how many heads and hearts deep these layers went, but understood it would be an impossibility. So she embraced being in love with Heartman, and tried to convince him to do the same.
It’s not like it was difficult. All he had to do was fall in love. Easy, right? Yet this was easier done than sung. The days and nights were wasted when they weren’t together. Why did Heartman still go to work? Was he afraid? The plight of the other one wasn’t their fault. It was outside of their jurisdiction, and thus not in their control.
One delightful afternoon, Jessica closed her eyes and Songstress slipped out of her head. Alone in the heart Heartman called home, she found his satchel of spare darts and carefully removed one, wrapping it in tissue to ensure the tip never came in contact with any part of her. She believed it had to pierce the skin to work its magic, but she wasn’t taking any percutaneous chances.
Back in her penthouse suite, she nestled the dart between the two cushions of her heart-shaped loveseat (a headwarming gift from Heartman), pointy end up. She removed the fascia, poured a glass of blood red wine to dull her nerves and waited. The glass was dirty, but she didn’t mind. Songstress imagined she could taste Heartman’s lips on the rim. The red wine saliva tasted sweet, like really awesome candy. But it wasn’t the wine, it was the sweet sweet kiss of her sweet love.
Songstress continued to sensually sample the side of the glass, refilling with wine periodically to maintain an adequate portion of potion. She was alone, but discretion was still important. She resumed her ruminations on how every night alone was wasted. Soon she realized it was she who was wasted. It was her own fault. She shouldn’t have had so much wine, and she shouldn’t have spent a drunken afternoon alone that evolved into evening.
As she drifted off to sleep, she hoped Heartman would arrive soon yet feared his reaction to seeing her like this. She dreamed of the arrival of her knight, but slept through the arrival of a king and his army of card playing companions.
##
STUPID CUPID! HEARTMAN threw down his bow in disgust. He had a rough day at the office. Or as rough a day as one could have when they mostly worked from home stoking the flames of love. It was like any other job. Success was sweet. Failure was not. But the difference between the two wasn’t as cut and dry as you might think.
A good day involved shooting darts into the walls of Jessica’s heart and watching what love could do. He was already inside her body, so just about any shot did the trick. No sharpshooter skills required. As long as the bow was taut enough, a shot in any direction would get her done. Behind the back. Through the legs. Over the shoulder. Eyes closed. It all worked. That’s how Jessica fell in love so easily.
Failure wasn’t judged by the accuracy of his shots. It was more around choosing his spots. He couldn’t go making Jessica fall in love with everybody. Was it the right time? The wrong place? A good guy? Plans could also go astray due to other intangibles. If Jessica turned her head at a crucial moment, the dart dosage might have unintended effects. She could be looking at Mr. Right, but shift her gaze to a donkey at the zoo as the payload struck. That was awkward. But it’s also how Heartman learned to be careful.
Heartman’s darts didn’t only cause Jessica to fall in love with living things. The magic worked on other objects too. Recipes. Books. Clothing. Songs. Soap. Love was far out. And far reaching. It made the world a better place. Why? That’s not for you to know.
This was where the true skill of the job came in. The nuance of balancing her likes and dislikes. Maintaining interests via well timed booster shots. Knowing the difference between a passing fancy and a long term
commitment. Never taking anything for granted, yet never assuming a lack of conditions. It was harder than it looked at first sight. Every day Heartman had decisions to make and bonds to strengthen. The things she loved, he loved. What will we look forward to falling for today?
Today’s rough day related to external forces. That pesky Cupid was at it again, messing with Heartman’s mojo. Some thought Cupid had a harder job since he was responsible for everyone. Being outside in the world, he needed to have better aim. Cupid had to shoot both people at nearly the same time. Two lovebirds with one stone was ideal, but not required.
Cupid’s camp thought Heartman took easy pot-shots from the inside. That wasn’t a fair assessment. Heartman wondered why Cupid even existed. Was it because they didn’t think he and the other heartmen were doing a good enough job? That they needed a hired gun from the outside as a hedge? And who might they be? Jessica was already in love. He had this under control. Meaningful love dosing regimens were his specialty. His results spoke for themselves.
Anyway, Cupid penetrated Jessica with his outside arrow. Heartman couldn’t see Cupid, but an unexpected rush of blood to the heart alerted him to a Valentine’s Day massacre in full effect. The pheromones overpowered him. He was in the heart after all, and that was Cupid’s target. The attack also rendered his own weaponry impotent. He had many tools at his disposal, but needed to wait for Cupid’s time-release arsenal to dissipate before his own would be of any use again. He hated when this happened. It rarely ended well.
Sometimes Heartman wondered if it was worth it. Why did he try? It always seemed like he tried so hard. If Cupid could trump in at any time with extra strength loving, why was he even here in this awesome machine anyway? Love was weird.
Heartman wasn’t going to get any more work done today. The afternoon was (literally) shot. He decided to take the rush train via the main artery up to the brain to visit Songstress. Preventing the feet from tripping them up was her idea. She’d be able to see this Cupid situation logically and make him feel better.
When he arrived he found her splayed out on the heart- shaped loveseat he’d given her. She was drowning in a sea of neatly arranged wine bottles. How could she have consumed so much and still cleaned up?
Heartman blamed Cupid, wondering if any of the cherub’s cardiac poison made it up here. But he knew that was foolish speculation. Cupid’s powers couldn’t travel beyond the heart. This was the wine’s fault. Wine impacted both brain and heart, but the brain was the primary playground it seduced.
Was wine beneficial to the heart? Some scientists believed so, others disagreed. One hypothesis held moderation was key, but nobody could agree on the definition of moderation. Further study was needed. Past research was inconclusive. The complex series of chemical reactions involved were difficult to replicate. And the highly distractionary nature of the little people who lived inside of human bodies made it challenging for the researchers to focus. If you were a scientist, how would you be able to complete any cutting edge studies with this fantastic non- stop miniature soap opera broadcast daily via your microscope?
Heartman sidestepped the bottles and sat beside Songstress. He stroked her jet black hair, wishing for a better life in a better place. Somewhere beyond the two spaces they always ended up. Head and heart. Heart and head. Heardt? That word might belong more to the ears. The ears that listened to the Songstress and her beautiful music. They’d been listening to her music for awhile. Heartman made a note to ask Lea about it the next time he saw her.
Could he get them out? He felt like he was getting aheart of himself. Even if he could get them out, should he? What about Jessica? He needed to let events play out in their natural sequence. Something was missing, but escape wasn't necessarily the answer.
Heartman closed his eyes to clear his head. Planning wasn’t his thing. It was a headier pursuit. Yet try as he might, he couldn't help but imagine a life outside the body. Even if he could...even if...even if.
Songstress hummed in her sleep. Humming is basically singing without words. Songs without words are known as instrumentals. They are easy to fall asleep to. And they have been instrumental to our story thus far.
Heartman listened and thought and listened and thought until he drifted off into a sound slumber soothed by the sweet humming of his love.
Hummmmmmm.
Hmmmmmmm.
Mmmmmmm...
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