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What is Real

De
304 pages
Dex Pratt’s life has been turned upside down. His parents have divorced and his mother has remarried. When his father attempts suicide and fails, Dex returns to their small town to care for him. But he’s not prepared for how much everything has changed. Gone are the nice house, new cars, fancy bikes and other toys. Now he and his wheelchair-bound dad live in a rotting rented house at the back of a cornfield. And, worse, his father has given up defending marijuana growers in his law practice and has become one himself. Unable to cope, Dex begins smoking himself into a state of surrealism. He begins to lose touch with what is real and what he is imagining. And then there are the aliens…and the girl-of-his-dreams…and the crop circle…
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W h a t IS r Eal
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Text copyright ©2011Karen Rivers All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Rivers, Karen,1970-What is real [electronic resource] / Karen Rivers.
Electronic monograph in PDF format. Issued also in print format. isbn 978-1-55469-357-3
I. Title. ps8585.i8778w43 2011ajc813.54c2010-908047-5
First published in the United States,2011Library of Congress Control Number:2010942087
Summary: When Dex Pratt returns to his small-town life to care for his wheelchair-bound father, he finds his world turned upside down and goes to extreme measures in order to cope.
Orca Book Publishers is dedicated to preserving the environment and has printed ® this book on paper certified by the Forest Stewardship Council .
Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit. Cover design by Teresa Bubela Typesetting by Jasmine Devonshire Cover photo by Getty Images Author photo by Meg VanderLee
orca book publishers po Box 5626,Stn. B Victoria,bc Canadav8r 6s4
orca book publishers po Box 468 Custer,wa usa 98240-0468
www.orcabook.com Printed and bound in Canada.
To you.
cha pter 1 now.
This is my real life. But I keep thinking… Ifthings were different. In any way. In every way. IfBeforestretched intoNow. Then… I would still be me. But it doesn’t. Everything changes. I am me, but I’m also not myself. I am a guy who is playing himself ontv. (Except I am not ontv.) But on the one hand, I’m still trying to get it right: My lines. Mymotivation. On the other hand, I want to know what is going on here. I have lost something. There is a line that I have
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crossed, and I can’t go back. I didn’t cross it. The line crossed me. My mind was crossed. I am not me. But what is real? Are you? Am I? Is anyone?
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cha pter 2 s eptem b er 2 6, t h i s ye a r.
EXT.—CORNFIELD—EARLY EVENING, SUNNY And… SCENE: Dex Pratt is on his back in the corn. Eyes half shut. He is holding a spliff. There are shiny scars from old burns on his fingertip because, as it turns out, he isn’t very good at this. (Or anything.) The audience will recognize his character in the first frame. He’s that kid. (Is there more? They won’t know that he didn’t used to be.) Close up on the burn scars, the flat shine of his fingertip. The lit ember at the end of the joint. Dex’s face. His red-veined, pink-high eyes. The stain of the smoke.
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Pan the field. Pan the blue-fading-to-gray sky, messy with clouds. Back to Dex on his back, sweating through his shirt. His T-shirt is ripped: Che’s face gapes open from ear to chin. His shorts are not exactly clean. Below the frayed hem, his left knee bulges purple-gray, yellow-green, a bruised fruit, throbbing with pain. Focus on the joint, burning, the ash as he raises it slowly to his lips, the long slow pull of it. And then the lips, sealed shut, holding it all in. (Hold it all in, that’s what he does, isn’t it?) Because. Now there is the wind blowing through the corn, making sounds like ghosts or someone so sad that his pain becomes a low sound. Add a layer of music. No words, just some flutes dismally whistling spit through silver tubes. No, violins. The whine of the strings. Show how Dex is hearing the ghosts in the corn, and the pot is high and…no, wait, that’s the corn. His eyes are open. No, closed. The corn is high in the maze. The maize maze. The corn maze that frames him, walls holding him in, walls trapping him here. In this town. In this life, which is not his. But it is.
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Our Joe’s maze is built out of lies and funds more lies. There is no money in corn or there is. The money is in the maze or maybe Our Joe just likes kids getting lost in there, crying. That is close to a truth that Dex doesn’t want to know. Look away, look away. Show a bull’s-eye. Show Dex, looking away. Don’t let your eyes settle on what you don’t want to know, because there is a point at which it is too much, and sometimes a maze is just a way of getting high-school kids to part with ten bucks to scare the shit out of themselves. But… And… Then. There is something about Our Joe that Tanis said. There is something. Show Dex trying to think of what it is, without looking at the obvious thing that he knows but can’t deal with. Show how Dex can’t deal. What does that look like? Crying? No. It doesn’t show. Asshole. Show a shadow in the corn. The shadow of a child, running. Show Dex in the corn, standing. No, sitting. No, lying down.
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