by Anne Pleydon
Noah. There is no gentleness or awareness in his eyes. She doesn’t know this boy, this man. She is shaking and it takes effort to keep hold of the kerosene can. She can smell the fumes from it. The taste of the cigarettes she has been smoking is on her tongue. She can hear the booming sounds of the music below. She can feel the vibration of the bass through her heels. She can hear the leather of her jacket as she adjusts her shoulders and takes another step back, and then another, and then she turns and is running. She barrels down the flights of stairs she doesn’t remember ascending. Her boots are so loud as she pounds down each step.
Kenny throws her arms against the exit door and bursts out on to the back lot that is half lit from a street light. She looks back. No one is following. Where is everyone? There are a dozen of club goers milling around smoking. This back lot is chained off. It is small and overrun with cracks and weeds. Snow is piled high against the fence. There are a couple patrons and dumpsters back here. She is a nameless nobody here with the smokers. It is too barren and empty though. She wants to be swallowed up in a milling crowd. Her aloneness is a beacon in the dark lot and she draws some gazes. She starts to head back to the front of the building to find her car. But then she retreats and walks to the fence separating the abandoned lot and the field. She looks to see what’s out there. Tracks. Nothing.
“Oooh,” Kenny breathes out. She can see the warm condensation hanging in the air from her breath and she marvels that she is only just now noticing how cold it is. And something about the air and night is beautiful. Large snow flakes cascade down around her. And there is a tugging in her chest and she feels how she wants to go home. But no, she can’t feel that feeling right now. But then it’s upon her again and so are all the cold nights after drinking with Daniel, when they were kids. And how he would take her hand when her head was thick from the vodka and lead her through the warm, gyrating bodies of the dance floor and she would just follow. She would close her eyes and accept his guidance because he was responsible the rest of the night. It didn’t seem like he felt the cold in the car as he started it up and she got to keep her hands safely tucked in her pockets. He would always get us home, she thought. But there are no arms to fold into now.
And then it comes. Her throat feels so swollen and closed she’s amazed that air is passing through it. Fat, hot tears roll down her face. An involuntary reflex pulls her to curve into herself. An unknown force wracks her body and the convulsions cause her to reach out a hand to grab the fence to steady herself. She wants it to stop but it hurts too much to straighten. She curls around the heavy pit of loss inside her. A sound is torn from her that is so primal it scares her for fear there is more to come. She conjures up thoughts of self-doubt to stab her flesh. She says them to herself again and again to puncture her stomach and chest and heart.
And then Kenny pauses. She gulps in the night air and straightens. She is surprised by the violence that has consumed her which seems to have vanished into the night as quickly as it came. Her body is warm. She looks at her hands hardly believing they belong to her. She is aware only of her eyes as though she is hovering above the ground and her body is a vessel carrying her eyes and her mind. She turns to look behind her at the nightclub. Someone has pulled the fire alarm.
Chapter 42
NOAH STANDS IN THE MIDDLE of his office after watching Kenny run out the back stairs. What just happened? What the hell just happened? He had not seen her for 10 years and she just shows up here and stares at him and goes on about things he said to her back in Merivale.
“Go after her,” Eddie barks at a couple of the boys and three guys disappeared after her. Noah is too angry and surprised by Kenny’s appearance to say anything. Eddie tells the others to “Check out the club and make sure she didn’t do anything. That she’s not hanging around here.”
Eddie puts his hand on Sonny’s head. Sonny’s attention is absorbed by the Playstation but still manages to say, “Who was that lady?”
Eddie says, “Don’t matter.”
“Hmm,” Sonny responds, mindlessly.
Eddie looks at Noah. “What the fuck, man?”
Noah shakes his head.
“How you know her?” Eddie presses.
“Merivale. My therapist.”
“The fuck?”
“Yeah, you know, Kenny Halpin.”
“Dr. Kenny?” Eddie seems to be thinking back.“I didn’t have her. Who did I have?”
Noah laughs. “No clue.” For a second, he notes that they have never spoken about his psychologist before.
Eddie walks toward Noah. “Is she gonna call the cops or something?”
Noah sighs. It is strange how protective he feels toward Kenny especially when he sees how dark Eddie’s eyes have become. Kenny. Noah can’t believe how small he felt when she was in the room. Like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. He hears Kenny’s voice from all those years ago. “That’s called embarrassment. You feel like shit, ‘cause you did something shitty.” He can hear her labeling feelings for him in a language he understood. He would have felt more comfortable if his mother had walked in. He could have just said, “Ma, get out here.” But Kenny. Shit. She pissed him off walking in and judging him. Making him feel young and like he’d done something wrong. “No one can make you feel anything. Those are your feelings.” He can hear her again. God, he wants her out of his head. He was terrified of her standing there looking at him like no time had passed. Like she had every right to be there and he had to explain himself. How does she do that? He had lashed out at her. The thought of it makes him feel strange inside. But he had done what he needed to do. “Sometimes ya gotta put the mask on to get shit done. I get that. My concern is if you can’t take it off.”
And now he reflects on Eddie’s question. Noah smiles. “She ain’t gonna call the cops.”
“What, then?”
“She just wanted to talk to me. It’s nothing, man.”
“You need to deal with this shit.”
“Yup.”
“Imma let the boys scare her if she sets foot in here again.”
Noah doesn’t respond as Eddie lights up a cigarette and returns to sit on the couch by Sonny’s side. He sees his son move into the crook of Eddie’s arm. Eddie laughs, “Aho ho ho” as Sonny makes some move in the video game. Noah marvels at how Eddie and Sonny seem to understand each other implicitly. Yeah, he had a kid with Eddie’s sister, Crystal, but there is an intimacy between Eddie and Sonny beyond an uncle role. Sonny admires Eddie and the crew. Noah rejects this admiration as he wants to remain distanced. He wants Sonny to not get too close. To not know too much about the life. But Eddie tells Sonny everything. Eddie feels a freedom to get as close as he wants to Sonny because he doesn’t have the problems with the baby mama drama. Sonny is the son and kid brother Eddie never had. Sonny looks up to Eddie the way Noah used to look up to Eddie when Eddie used to run things. Noah and Eddie are partners now. They both have their roles. Noah is brighter and colder. Eddie is loyal but excitable. Eddie makes mistakes. Sometimes big ones.
Noah watches his son absorbed in the video game and oblivious to the sounds of the club. It’s late and already well past some non-existent bedtime. Noah remembers all the promises he made to himself about how his kid wasn’t going to be around this shit. Arbitrary rules. No one was allowed to use in front of him, but people could sell, and they couldn’t talk about shit, but there were fights there.
“Jesus, Sonny, you need to go lie down. Go to bed,” Noah says, gesturing to the open futon in the corner of the room.
“Nah,” Eddie says, rubbing Sonny’s head.
Noah returns to his desk. He thinks about how he got Crystal pregnant so fast after he got out of Merivale. Too fast. He hadn’t wanted to be a dad just yet. Noah wonders at what age did Sonny start listening, like really listening to them. Of course, Sonny couldn’t understand them in the beginning. He was just a baby. But now he can, and for years he’s been able to understand. He
’s heard too much.
Noah is tired. He has been drinking and holding off on the valium until it looked like the night would be drama free. He always waits until Eddie gets his second wind and wants to talk big and close up the place. Eddie enjoys doing that. He likes it if there is trouble, too, like a fight, so he could justify unleashing the boys on someone. Noah knows they need to crack down on this shit. They can’t afford to have anyone get seriously hurt there. They don’t want the attention.
Noah remembers the look on Kenny’s face when she became scared. He shudders. Fucking Merivale. And the promise. He groans inwardly. She just doesn’t get it. Gonna get herself killed. But she is right. He does remember that day, crystallized in his mind, sitting on the concrete molded bed in discipline cells.
They had spoken so many times about. “How will you know you’re not doing well?” and he would say, “I’m never coming back here.”
“How many kids do you think say that to me?”
“I know. All of them. But I mean it.”
Noah closes his eyes. Cells at court and the police station. Fuck those cells. They’re the worst. Would rather do a month in jail than a weekend in cells at court or with the cops. But then in his mind he’s back in custody, in room 7. The good one. You can see the tv good when you’re laying in that bed. Gotta have status to get that jail cell. All those hours, days, years that he imagined being done with all of them. Fuck staff, fuck therapy, fuck justice, fuck the judges, fuck probation, and fuck school, and fuck getting a job, and fuck his parents. Back then, he could not wait to not have to listen to any of them ever again. He wanted to just relax when he got out. He was in there for years. Years, man. When he got out, he wanted to just chill. Talk to girls. Get pussy. Get some money. Maybe do something big, then go legit for sure. Or half legit. Then, get a good girl. But not too soon. Gotta be free for a bit. He had so looked forward to not having one expectation or rule. Yes. The sweet-ass end point in time when he could truly be free from Merivale and probation. Keep the anger and resentment toward all of them inside until that point and then fuck them all. They’ll never know how much he hated them. Never let any of them in. Well, Kenny a bit. But she was paid to care, too. Just like the rest. He stopped himself. Not true. He could tell the difference. Some staff were alright. The ones who gave the extra calls, and didn’t flip over the language. Some brought in cool movies, and food, and coffee. They weren’t on him ‘cause they knew he’d been around a long time, so gimme a break. Not like the damned Casuals. But they were still staff. So fuck ‘em. He could never do to kids what those staff did.
And Kenny bugged the shit out of him back then. She told him off unlike any therapist he ever had before. How many times had she told him to just quit therapy and ride his sentence out? Taking a chance to access that part of him that could recognize he had choices. He had some power in there. It hurt him once when she went quickly to her ‘just quit’ response. Like he meant nothing to her, like she could be okay with it ending just like that.
“That’s respect,” she said. “Your needs are more important in this relationship. If you want out, I want to help you get out.” She took that same stance with the life. “I can’t help you become a better criminal. I don’t have a fuckin’ clue. The easiest thing in the world for you to do is just do your time and continue on with this life. You worked hard for it. You wanted it. You pay the price every now and then for it. But that’s your business. When you hurt others, it becomes society’s business. But ultimately, it’s your choice.”
“You want me to be perfect,” he had said to her, feeling sullen.
“No, that’s what it feels like to be connected to prosocial people who expect good things from you. It feels like a burden because you’re not used to it. You resent it because it sucks. But that’s what it’s about being in this world. Your world doesn’t give a shit. There are clear cut rules here about being good. Not hurting yourself and others is part of the rules.”
“I look after my family, I look after my own.”
“Right. Until they fuck you over. Or they get fucked over because of you.”
“I protect them. No one’s ever gonna touch them.”
“Why don’t you protect them from you?”
“I’m not afraid of dying.”
“Then, die staying in or die trying to get out. It’s up to you.”
“Nah, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re right.”
Noah is lost in these memories. He had walked the line for awhile when he got out, taking a couple college courses but selling on the side. And then he dropped out. He didn’t want to have to do anything. He remembers his fantasies in Merivale. How desperately he wanted that freedom. He still tastes it today. Small places. Hates them. Malls. Still feel too chaotic. But the little things are good. Getting coffee. Putting as much sugar in it as he wants. Being in bed. He loves comfy beds. He’ll never sleep on a shit, thin mattress again. Watching tv and not worrying about shit. Not asking permission to turn on the fuckin’ tv. He never turns the television off now. Sleeps with it on. Take showers for as long as he pleases.
Ah … but Noah still worries. And that was not part of his plans. He wanted to be free from all the external controls but also wanted to be free from the fuckin’ stress. The drama. Looking over his shoulder. Can’t go anywhere. Baby mama drama. We’re all family now. Fuck. The valium. Fuck. Said he was never gonna do that shit again. Weed maybe but not the other shit. He’d had plans. But it was the streets that did him in. Promises. Loyalties. Beef. People asking for favours. In Merivale, he had told Kenny so many times that no one on the street would ask shit of him again. He’d done enough time. Proved enough. How many times had he said to himself and to Kenny, “My friends know. They’ll respect what I want to do.” But it was never enough. He knew shit. They knew shit. He owed people. He couldn’t say no. He didn’t want to say no. He wanted the money and the respect. He liked how people feared him. And these fuckin’ players. He was supposed to ignore that? These punks. The new guys. The young fucks. Trying to be someone. Acting G like it’s a hobby. Stepping up to him. Old beef. Can’t. Just can’t have it. Fuckin’ stress. The cops. He knew it was only a matter of time before he and Eddie were picked up for what they did to Marco. Everyone on the street fucking knew. Just takes one rat. Marco. Oh well. It had to be done though. Had to be done. It went way back. People gotta see what’s up.
And, what now? He had wanted to be free. He had plans back then. He had asked Kenny to blow it all up if he ever went back to the life. He chuckles to himself. He meant end it, tell the cops, not actually blow anything up. Kenny with a can of kerosene. It’s a rumble that builds and he’s laughing aloud. Kenny coming here. Can you believe this bitch? She is crazy. But she had said, “I’m pretty sure you’d try to stop me.” And he had said, confidently, “Nah, I couldn’t stop you.” And she said, “You’ll go down with it. You’d get hurt.” He was all talk, and returned, “It wouldn’t be living.” What the fuck had he been going on about? But he made her promise. He remembers she was reluctant. It was a dumb thing to do. To promise kids shit. He had promised Sonny all sorts of stuff. Even before he was born. “If I ever have a kid, I’m always dress him in the coolest shit. He’s gonna be a little G.” She had exaggerated her displeasure, “Oh god, he’s gonna be spoiled. I’ll see him here in 12 years then.” He had laughed at her dramatic reaction. He knew he would give his son everything. Everything. And she is wrong. His son would never go to jail.
Noah wonders if he should’ve been a normal dad. But he loves money. He’s not going to work some 9 to 5 and make 50 bucks a day. Slow money, Kenny called it. Why would I make it slow if I can make it fast? he asks. Well, that’s the question isn’t it? she returned. Sonny loves money now, too. It’s easier to buy him shit then spend time with him. But Noah believes he is a good dad. Sonny’s gotta have two of everything anyway since he lives in two different places. He can’t be wearing Walmart
clothes. His son has to have the best. But he can’t be a little punk and be brought up in this life. Where would Noah go though? Not gonna leave and leave his family here. Someone has to protect them.
“He can’t be hanging out here like this,” Noah says to Eddie as he picks up his phone and stares at the screen. He can’t remember who he was going to text. Sonny. He is better here than with his baby mama. But Sonny shouldn’t be here, either. In the life. He’s already a little bastard at school. He doesn’t even want to go to school no more. But Crystal doesn’t give a shit. Her mother loves having him there. Noah’s thoughts go round and round.
Noah looks at Eddie and Sonny. His son is not going to end up in jail. His kid will not go to Merivale. Because if he did, then what was all this ... Noah pauses. All of a sudden he misses Merivale. No, fuck that. He pushes down those feelings. Never. Never miss that place! Miss the boys, yes. Sometimes. But not that time, that place. Noah is shaken from his thoughts though when he hears the nightclub’s fire alarm.
Chapter 43
WHEN KENNY WALKS BACK into Noah’s office he is standing behind his desk. Only Eddie and Sonny remain in his office. Noah’s on the phone. Kenny listens to him barking orders to someone. “Well, check it. It’s gone off before for no reason, but get everyone out. I don’t need a fuckin’ fine. I don’t need the fuckin’ fire department here.”
