“So?” he says.
“So…”
“Did she feed you or what?”
“Sorry, I didn’t realize that was a question.”
“Did she?”
“She probably would have,” I say.
“What’s that mean?” He hands me the cup he’s been holding, coffee. I take that a little more enthusiastically.
“I left before she woke up.”
Benny stares blankly at me for a while and then starts chuckling. He takes a long drag off his cigarette before he speaks. “You’re a piece of work, kid.”
“That’s what they tell me.” I take another sip of coffee.
“Was it that bad?” he asks.
“No. It was that good.”
Benny nods emphatically, like what just came out of my mouth could not have possibly made more sense. I love that about him.
“I think you could use something good,” he finally says. I know what he’s thinking about, but I’m not about to invite him to bring it up. “You have to quit punishing yourself someday. You deserve something good.”
“No, I’m much happier depressed.”
He begrudgingly chuckles, that big-bellied bear chuckle of his. “Seriously, Rainn. It’s been, what? Two, three years since Michael?”
“Come on, Benny, I don’t want to talk about that.”
“All right, all right.” He sighs. “I’ll shut up. Sweet dreams, kid.” He messes up my hair and takes my plate and cup back inside.
I flip down the storage door and drag out my blankets, then put my keyboard back inside. I put one blanket flat on the ground, then cocoon myself up in the other two. Benny’s light flicks on upstairs, and I see his silhouette in the window. He’s there looking down on me for a long time. Finally, the light flicks back off. I wonder if he’s still standing there.
I stare at the dumpster wheel that’s two feet away, at my eye level. It smells like rotting food and sour milk. That’s probably exactly what it is.
Better than butane.
Chapter Three
“I shouldn’t have snuck out, huh?” It’s been a month and I’m still talking to the graffiti cat I like to call Libido about Jaselle. His smirk has continually changing meaning to me. He’s kind of like the Mona Lisa of back alley spray paint art, I guess. Today Libido is telling me I’m a moron. He’s telling me that leaving was a chicken move, that I’m always in too much of a hurry, that I could have left any time if things went bad, but I can never go back and see if they would have.
“You weren’t there. You don’t get it,” I tell him, but that blue smirk of his is unconvinced. “Regret is useless anyway. What a waste of emotion. Even if I wanted to do something about it, I can’t. I don’t have her number. I don’t know how to get back to her apartment, and even if I did she’d probably shut the door in my face. So, stop bothering me about it.”
Libido’s expression refuses to morph today. Usually, I just tell him to change and he does. I’ll notice some feature I’ve never paid attention to before, the friendly orientation of his ears telling me he’s not judging me, or the curious tilt of his head saying he wants to understand. All I can get from him now is unrelenting skepticism.
“I should have let Benny paint over you months ago.” I open the back door to the Chapel. I have better things to do than talk to a spray paint cat anyway. Brad is supposed to come see us perform tonight.
Backstage, Jayden looks like he’s going to puke. I’m the only one who sees that, though. Everyone else sees the same old smooth, carefree, punk rocker.
“You ready?” I ask. All he can muster is a nod.
We spend our limited extra time peeking at the bar, hoping to see Brad, but before long the lights go out like we’re doing a real concert, compliments of Benny, and it’s time to take the stage.
I hear Benny doing our intro, but it’s just a distant sound, taking a back seat to the twinge in my stomach. I clear my throat a little and pat my chest, nervous tics with no real function. Jayden’s face is shiny with anxiety sweat, but there’s no time to try to comfort him.
Benny’s voice booms through the bar. “The Suicidal Angels!” The red lights by my feet and above my head paint me in time with Shiloh’s pulsing bass intro. The sound is so strong and sensual it overflows me with energy. Then the drums thicken the sound. Jayden’s guitar over the top, screeching heartache.
“Calling up the dead. Awakening the sickness in my head…” I sing with everything inside me. I scream until I’m raw. I feel.
“You’re alive somewhere, but you weren’t there, you weren’t there…” I pull away from the mic so hard my sweaty hair flies away from my face. The lights beat down hot and smothering.
Ecstasy.
I try to penetrate the black wall the bright lights in my face have thrown up, but I can’t. I want to know where Brad is. I want to sing to him personally. There’s just no way for me to know, though, so I pour my soul into the entire room.
The end is coming. “I have a confession for you, since we’re alone. I think I want to die tonight. I think this might be it tonight.”
Alex goes into his drum solo that caps off the performance. With his last powerful blast to the symbols I scream, “We are the Suicidal Angels. Thank you and good night!” It’s cliché, I know, but I’ve always wanted to do it. We take a bow to the wild applause and buzzed roars.
There’s a knot in my throat from the happiness. We’ve never performed so well, ever, and what a night to pull it together. I blow kisses to the crowd as we make our way off stage, fulfilling every cheesy whim.
The overhead lights come back on and the house music returns, quiet compared to us. The next band, Travesty, goes to work preparing their set. Benny is waiting to the side and spreads his arms wide for me. I fall into the bear hug.
“You guys were great!” He grabs my head and jostles me around. The guys come in for a group hug, smiles bursting off their faces. People are fist bumping the guys. Girls are coming up to compliment me. One person even asks for autographs. We’re mini-celebrities.
I crane my neck to try to catch sight of Brad without being too obvious I’m doing so. He’ll find us, so the guys and I go to the bar and get drinks. I turn on the stool so my elbows are resting on the bar and I have a view of the tables, dance floor, and stage. Brad. Where’s Brad?
It’s crowded and visibility is limited. I wait. He’s here somewhere. I wait and wait. Benny keeps the drinks coming with added potency every time. Travesty gets further and further into their performance. It’s been an hour and a half. The crowds are starting to clear. There are fewer and fewer nooks I can’t see.
He’s not here. He wanted to see us, had to see us. He promised, but he’s not here. We gave the ultimate performance, technically and emotionally. He didn’t see it. I turn back to the bar and take a shot.
“Easy, tiger.” Shiloh rubs my shoulders. “It was still a great night. You know Brad. We should have seen this coming.”
Well, he’s right about that. This is, after all, the third time Brad’s stood us up. I just thought for sure this time he was serious, that he’d be here. I always think I’ve learned my lesson about counting on people, but then something happens to make me realize I haven’t. I genuinely thought he was going to come tonight, because he said he would. I take a shot.
We were supposed to be on the cusp of victory. We were supposed to have a real opportunity in our hands, but we’re no closer than we’ve ever been. We’re still street rats making noise in the local bar. We’re still nothing.
“Hey.” Benny breaks into my thoughts. I look up. “Fuck him. You guys are amazing. Talent like that doesn’t stay in a dump like this for long.” I smile for his benefit. We’ve been here for two years, so apparently it does. I take a shot.
A cloud of sweetness takes me, the smoothest, warmest smell. I glance over my right shoulder and there, so close the loose fabric of her shirt is brushing my arm, Jaselle. My chest tightens with fear, relief, desire, need. I look int
o my empty shot glass, only allowing myself to watch her through my peripheral vision.
There’s a glow to her skin, a luminescence to her eyes, bone structure to make a sculptor drool. If she knows I’m sitting here she shows no sign of it.
“Two Coronas.” She tosses a ten on the bar. Benny gets her the beers, but he’s looking at me the whole time he does it. His face looks like his brain is busy trying to assess what’s happening. She turns and walks away, returning to a table with a woman, a different one than the night we met.
Benny stares me down, hard. Then he nudges his head toward her sternly. He knows how much time I’ve spent thinking about her, and he was the one who planted the idea that I messed up “something good” to begin with.
I inhale deeply and stand up from my stool. I notice for the first time my level of intoxication, higher than I thought. I’m not trashed, but there’s a little sway to my step, for sure, if only in my mind.
Each step I take presents a new fear. What if she cusses me out for leaving? Step. What if she won’t acknowledge me at all? Step. What if she looks at me like I’m crazy for having spent any of my time thinking about it? What if she expected and wanted me to leave immediately? What if she wasn’t even asleep, but pretending to be until I left to save herself the awkward conversation of kicking the homeless one-night toy to the curb? Step. Step. Step.
I’m standing at her tall table with my hands resting on the back of the empty seat before she looks at me. My stomach clenches.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey.” She smiles. I try to resist the instant infatuation that happens when she does that. I toss a rudely disregarding and unconcerned glance at the woman she’s with, then scratch the back of my head.
“I just wanted to—”
“We loved your show,” the other girl blurts. “You guys were incredible. I had no idea you know her, that’s so cool!” she directs the last at Jaselle. Jaselle just smiles subtly and sips her beer.
I stand, awkwardly shifting my weight, trying to think of what to say, if I’m welcome, whether or not I’ve just walked in on a date.
“You just wanted to…” Jaselle says.
“Uh,” my voice gets stuck in my throat. “Just say hi, I guess.”
“Here, sit down! I’m Shelby.” Shelby hastily goes to work clearing the extra chair of her purse and coat so I can sit. Jaselle is still leaning far back in her chair, silently watching.
“No, no. Thanks, but that’s okay. I’m interrupting. I just came to say hi.” I can feel my cheeks getting red. I wave at Shelby like a moron and start to turn.
“Sit.”
I look back and examine Jaselle’s face. “Sit,” she says again. I slip into the chair, holding eye contact with her as I do, trying to say everything I need to say by staring it into her. I’m sorry. You’re so beautiful. I was scared. I can’t tell if she’s seeing me or not.
“So who came up with your band name?” Shelby asks. I feel the seconds passing in silence while I stare at Jaselle. Shelby clears her throat to draw me back.
“Oh, uh, I did.”
“What’s it mean?”
“It means some people aren’t here to stay.” Jaselle leans forward and stares into me while she answers. “It means that sometimes, even the best of us, even ones chosen by God, still will self-destruct. There’s a darkness inside that will never go away, and it’s always calling. There’s nothing that can fix it. They touch our lives and then they’re gone, looking over us. Angels.”
Her eyes are blue-gray and stormy. I take a deep breath and look back to Shelby.
“Well, there you go,” I say.
Shelby looks uncomfortable suddenly, her peppy disposition interrupted. She blabs on about something, obviously not picking up the tension between Jaselle and me.
“Let’s get out of here,” she finally says. I nod my head and prepare to take my leave, but Shelby reaches out and squeezes my arm. “You’re coming, right?”
“Where?” I look Jaselle’s way again, feeling incredibly anxious that I’m unwanted, guilty that Shelby is dragging me along.
“We’re going back to Jaselle’s. We got some boomers we’re going to do.”
“Boomers?”
“Yeah, you know, mushrooms.”
I chuckle a little. “Yeah, I know.”
“You ever done them before?” Shelby leans closer.
“Once or twice.”
“We have plenty. Come with us.”
I turn to Jaselle again. I wonder why it’s not occurring to Shelby to run any of this by her. I keep silently asking permission for her. Jaselle gulps down the rest of her beer.
“Let’s go then,” she says. We all get up and head for the door. I notice the guys watching and nod my good-bye. Benny does a silly little salute.
I somehow end up in the front seat with Jaselle. Shelby volunteered for the back. I haven’t quite figured her out yet. She breaks out the ’shrooms immediately. My buzz from the shots is starting to wear off a little already, a fact I’m grateful for as I pop the mushrooms in my mouth. I muscle through the familiar unpleasant taste. It’d be easier to just swallow them, but instead I chew and chew. Jayden taught me that chewing makes them affect you sooner. I don’t even know if that’s true, or why it would be so important to make them kick in fifteen minutes earlier anyway. It’s one of those things you just do. Jaselle takes the bag next and puts a couple in her mouth, breaking the long stems so they’re more manageable.
We’re parked in front of Jaselle’s building before any of us are feeling anything. I’m starting to get queasy from the mushrooms though. We head down the stairs, and Jaselle opens the door. I listen for Noah, expecting him to come chew us out, but he doesn’t.
Shelby starts laughing beside me. I look over at her for the explanation, but there isn’t one. Her smile is about to bust her cheeks right open. My stomach is starting to feel warm. Any minute now. She must be a little ahead of me.
We settle down in front of the TV and watch South Park. We’re laughing hysterically within ten minutes. Shelby keeps falling all over me, making sure some part of our bodies is constantly touching. I figure she’s just high.
“Hey!” she says abruptly. “Hey! You know what song I really like?”
“What?” I try to focus, but her arms are rippling like little sound waves and I keep chuckling, then trying to stifle it.
“Oh, man, what’s it called? That one that goes ‘you’re my forever, I’m your first drink,’” She sings a terrible rendition of one of our songs.
“Yeah? Cool.” I’m no good with compliments.
“Oh, and the one that goes, ‘drown me in the blood of yesterday’s heartache.’”
I just smile.
“Do you write the lyrics?”
“Yeah.”
“I love them. I get them, you know? I feel like I already know you.”
She springs to her feet before I have to answer and heads to the kitchen. I look over at Jaselle. She’s smoking a cigarette and staring hypnotically into her swirling exhale, seemingly detached from us.
Shelby returns with three beers. The mushrooms are really starting to take me now. I’m getting a strong body high and I just feel good, about everything. And I want to touch.
Jaselle finally speaks, but it’s a whisper, so quiet I barely hear. “Drown me in the blood of yesterday’s heartache. I am tomorrow’s tragedy.” She hums my song. I close my eyes and listen. I want to reach out and hold her.
“That’s a fucked up image, actually!” Shelby blurts. Jaselle and I both look at her, both obviously irritated.
“Seriously, have you thought about that? Drowning in blood?”
Once or twice, Shelby, it’s my song, you idiot. “I guess.”
“I don’t think I like it anymore.” I don’t bother answering. I zone out for a minute, and then I hear a strange wind behind me. No, not wind. Something swirling? I look over. Shelby is holding her chest and breathing weird. In in oooooout. In out in innnn.
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“Are you okay?” Jaselle asks. She just keeps breathing like that, holding her chest, turning pale.
“Shelby?” I say. “Dude, are you all right?”
“I’m freaking out, man. I don’t feel good.”
Jaselle sits up and puts her hand on Shelby’s back. “What’s happening? How do you feel?”
“The walls are red. Everything is blood. I don’t want to be high anymore. I don’t like this. I want to come down!”
I kneel down in front of her. “Look at me,” I say. It takes her a long time to do so. “Look at me. It’s going to be fine. You’ve got at least three hours to go, okay? But it will stop. Don’t try to fight it, you’re making it worse. Let’s go outside for a minute, okay?”
In in ooooooout. In out innnnn.
“You’re making the trip go bad. Stop freaking out,” Jaselle says. Shelby can’t answer. She’s just busy breathing weird with wide eyes. I wonder what she’s seeing now. Out of nowhere, she screams, loud. It makes Jaselle and me both jump.
“I don’t want to die! I don’t want to die!”
“Come on, honey. Let’s go outside.” Jaselle starts trying to pull her up.
Suddenly, trying to handle this is demanding too much thought, too much control. My trip starts trying to turn on me. I see the hallway that goes to Jaselle’s room and it’s too dark, dangerous. It turns into a mouth. Then it’s just a gaping hole in the house, a cold vacuum that’s trying to swallow my soul. It’s evil. I’m certain there’s a thousand bats and Satan himself in the shadows. Everything is collapsing on itself.
Stop. Change the scenery; that’s the fastest way out of a bad trip.
“Shelby, get the fuck up!”
The sooner I get her to relax, the sooner I can. Stop resisting the high. It’s the first thing you want to do when things aren’t going right, get sober, stop seeing bad things. But that only makes it worse. Give yourself to the drug.
Finally, we tug Shelby up. We burst out the front door, where I’ve convinced myself the shadows can’t get me. The nature of all my hallucinations changes. Now I’m in a Super Mario Brothers game. The sky is purple. The trees reach out forever.
Shadows of a Dream Page 3
