RockMySenses

by Lisa Carlisle

  “Yeah, Nico said Mike was freaking out about some guy and we had to high-tail it out of there. He didn’t know what the hell Mike was talking about, but we went home.”

  “He was freaked out saying some guy backstage told him he was a—what was it, some creature—a gargoyle.”

  Lily almost choked on her tea. “Excuse me.”

  “He said this guy told him he was a gargoyle and he transformed into one right in front of Mike. Told him he thought he was one of his kind.”

  “That explains the scent,” Lily said under her breath.

  “What?” I stared at her. “What scent?”

  Her eyes widened. With a wave of her hand, she added. “Nothing. Just rambling.”

  I remembered what Mike had said next as I went through my chronological brain dump of events. “Oh shit, I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. Shit, shit, shit! He was worried enough about telling me and now I’ve gone and told you, putting you in danger.” I cackled like a madwoman. “Oh my God, listen to me. I’ve freakin’ lost it. I know how insane it sounded when he told me. And here I am telling you. You’re going to think I’m a whack job. Ahhhh!”

  “Ally, calm down. I don’t think you’re crazy. Do one of your calming breathing exercises and get your shit together.” She smiled, put her hand on my shoulder to show her encouragement. “You can do it. You’re a pro.”

  “Okay, okay. You’re right.” I focused on my breath and counted, a ritual I did to center myself. My racing systems slowed to function back at normal levels. After several minutes, I said, “I’m feeling a little better now.”

  “Good.”

  I glanced at Lily, realizing she was the first person I thought of in my worst moment. We had been on friendly terms for months and hung out, but she’d always been so private and reserved. It wasn’t until she started dating Nico that she loosened up a little. No, a lot. She wasn’t as closed off and guarded as she used to be. The simple comforting gesture of patting me on the shoulder would have been too personal for the old Lily.

  “Thank you for coming to get me. It means a lot to me.”

  “You’re welcome. That’s what friends do, right?”

  I was pretty sure I was the one of Lily’s only female friend and probably the closest. “Absolutely. You know something, Nico has brought out the best in you.”

  “You think so?” Her face bloomed as her gaze drifted off. “I don’t have to hide anything around him and it lets me be more myself. You know what I mean?”

  I thought about Mike. About the glimpses into his personal life he showed me I guessed not too many people knew. About the glances into my own I showed him as well. But some of my secrets were too painful to reveal. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

  We sat in silence for several moments, lost in our own thoughts as we drank tea.

  Lily piped in on Mike’s behalf. “You know, he’s been different lately. Not hyping the role of the womanizing rock star. You must have had quite an impact on him.”

  “Maybe,” I agreed. “But that doesn’t mean he won’t return to his old ways. Once the novelty of something with me wears off and he sees some hot girl hanging onto his every move, he’ll move on.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” She shrugged. “Listen, I’m not saying it’s easy to be in a relationship with a guy in a band, especially when there are loads of half-naked women trying to get with them at their shows, but I’m glad I did. I trust Nico. He’d never hurt me intentionally.”

  “Mike isn’t Nico.”

  “I know. He’s a quirky character. But if you don’t give him a chance, you won’t ever know.”

  She homed in on the core of my inner turmoil. “It’s too late for that now.”

  Lily appraised me. “You know, I haven’t known you that long, but you’ve never mentioned a relationship. What’s the story? Are you gun-shy?”

  I chewed my bottom lip as I debated telling her more of the story. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  I sighed before I answered. “I was engaged once.”

  “You were.” Her eyes were wide with amazement. “You’re so young.”

  “That was part of the problem. We were both young. High school sweethearts. We got engaged before we started college.”

  “What happened?”

  Searching for something to focus on before I continued, I saw one of my cats sauntering behind the couch. I called her over, rubbing her under the chin and pulling her onto my lap.

  I sighed. “He died in a car crash. Alcohol was involved.”

  Lily slammed her hand over her mouth. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

  “There’s more to the story,” I revealed. “At his funeral, a number of young women came to pay their respects. I learned he’d been cheating on me with several of them. If he hadn’t died, I would have killed him.”

  “Oh, Ally,” Lily said. “That’s awful. I don’t know what to say.”

  I gave a bitter laugh. “The funny thing is he played guitar for a garage band. I guess I have a type.”

  “I totally get it now,” Lily said.

  “Me too,” I said. “I’ve been telling myself I can’t get involved with anyone because of the studio, but the truth runs deeper.” I glanced her way. “I’m terrified of making the same mistake twice.”

  Mike

  Days went by where I merely existed. Going to and from work like a zombie, participating in band practice on autopilot. Drinking at night to dull the pain. Losing myself in music I blared in my living room. Avenged Sevenfold, Five Finger Death Punch, old Metallica, Black Sabbath, the Misfits.

  Absolutely no love ballads.

  So many times I thought about calling Allana or stopping by. I rehearsed apologizing for being a giant ass and freaking out on her.

  No, you’ve pursued her enough. She’s made her feelings clear. Back the fuck off.

  Nico was the first to pick up on my foul mood. He closed the door to our office and asked, “What the hell’s wrong with you lately, man?”

  I bristled at the questioning I knew was coming. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Is it Ally?”

  “Her name is Allana,” I snapped. “An alley is a walkway between buildings.”

  “She calls herself Ally. Why are you getting all hyped up over her name anyway?”

  I spun in my chair to face him. “Damn good question. Wish I knew.”

  “What happened?”

  I envisioned the nights we went back to my place. She was so hot, we couldn’t get enough of each other. But even more, I liked having her there. On my couch, in my kitchen, in my bed. Just being near her.

  “Nothing,” I responded in a flat tone. “That’s what happened.”

  Nico remained quiet for a moment. “So things didn’t work out, eh? I heard there was a—misunderstanding.”

  “Oh, good God. She tells Lily, Lily tells you, you tell me. Wonderful, just wonderful,” I spat. “I’m living in a teen drama.” Then I undermined my flippant response by asking, “What did she say?”

  “I didn’t ask for the details. I just heard that the fling was over.”

  “Crashed and burned, my friend. A twisted, burning, smoldering, no-survivor car wreck.”

  “Talk about drama,” Nico murmured.

  *

  We had a show in Boston, our first show since the night that guy had felt up Allana.

  “Try not to beat anyone down tonight,” John ribbed.

  “If I do, I’ll start with you.”

  “Ha ha ha. Someone is so sensitive. PMS?”

  We’d played this club a few times, it was one of the few that welcomed rock acts in the age of all the oversized, overpriced dance venues. I loved coming down to Boston, but tonight I found myself searching the crowd for a petite blonde with a tight body dancing with her friend Lily. Although I knew the chances were pretty much zilch, not finding her ripped more disappointment through me.

  When a sexy brunette with enhanced breasts and pouty pink lips hung onto me aft
er the show, I thought why the hell not. Allana clearly didn’t want me, but this woman did. Besides, I vowed to go back to my old ways. Sex with no strings attached.

  We went to her place and didn’t waste any time before going to her room. The sex was okay, but I was distracted, thinking about Allana. Wishing it was Allana’s soft moans, her legs wrapped around me, her nails digging into my back.

  My attempt to forget her and move on only made me think of her all the more.

  I couldn’t even finish. In fact, I couldn’t even stay hard. I just wanted this to end and get the hell out of here. Since I wore a condom, I lied and faked coming. Then I rushed into the bathroom to flush the evidence.

  Back in her room, I said, “Sorry, but I’ve got to go.”

  “What?” She appeared stunned.

  “I’ve got to work in the morning. I have a day job too, and it’s getting late.”

  “Wow. You don’t play around. Just come over for sex and then leave?”

  Being in her apartment now made me claustrophobic and I breathed with relief once I left. I’d already forgotten her name. Something with an M and an N. Marina? Nope. No clue.

  Banging other women didn’t help erase Allana from my memory. What would? Burying the humiliation, heartache and regret on how things had panned out, I turned to self-reflection. I started to question characteristics about myself. I’d always been considered “quirky” or “weird” even for the nerd world. My teachers said it was normal for someone who was advanced on an intellectual level yet still at his chronological age on a social one; that this was normal for kids who had been accelerated. But now I started to question it more. Danton had planted a seed causing me to wonder not just who I was, but where I came from.

  Besides my quirky traits, I thought about my family. Every one had its oddballs, which you overlook as they’re relatives. I thought about my family line to see if anything Danton said could possibly ring true. Did we have gargoyle blood in us? Giving my relatives a mental shakedown to see what I could pinpoint as different, I discovered I didn’t even know what to look for.

  Over the weekend, I called my parents’ house to make sure they were home. When I arrived, my mother had a pot of coffee brewing. She poured us each a cup, hers in the World’s Best Mom mug I painted for her when I was twelve, which still somehow hadn’t broken. My dad had a mug reading Fishermen Do It Better, one of his favorite hobbies, which he only took a breather from during the coldest part of the winter. Mom handed me a mug of steaming black coffee. The mug was from MIT, one of the many pieces of memorabilia they bought when I’d graduated, two years younger than most of the other graduates.

  We sat in the living room. My dad in his worn brown leather recliner that was “his chair” and my mom next to me on the suede beige coach.

  “What is it, Mike?” my mom asked. “You seem tense.”

  “Something strange happened recently.”

  “What was it?” my dad asked.

  I gave them a condensed version, leaving out some of the more graphic parts, so I could cut right to the part about Danton explaining how he descended from an ancient family with certain capabilities and asking about my family history. “He said he was a gargoyle.”

  My parents looked at each other, communicating something with their eyes. A cloud of seriousness descended into the room.

  “Did he tell you anything else?” my dad asked.

  “He said he thought I might some gargoyle blood in me.” I erupted into nervous laughter. “And he showed me how he could transform.” I ran my hand over my chin. “Why are you looking so serious? Shouldn’t you be laughing and telling me I’m being crazy?”

  My dad’s eyes bored into mine for a long time. His penetrating gaze could speak volumes, especially when I was a teen getting into trouble. Now I noticed something different I never really thought was strange until now. The way he didn’t blink, his stony demeanor. When he spoke, my cloud of blissful ignorance shattered. “You’re not crazy.”

  “What are you saying?” My voice rung with uneasiness. “That this could be true?”

  My father continued to stare at me as if trying to communicate something deeper. “Yes.”

  “Mom?” I turned to her. “What is Dad talking about?”

  “Listen to him. We weren’t sure if we would ever have to tell you.”

  “Tell me,” I repeated in a higher pitch. “Tell me what?” I faced my dad.

  “What you heard is true. You are descended from an ancient tribe from the Catalan region.”

  My eyes widened. “Gargoyles?”

  Dad nodded. “Yes.”

  “Holy shit.” I put my head between my hands and leaned forward. “This can’t be happening.”

  “It’s nothing to fear, Michael.” Mom put her hand on my back and rubbed.

  My mind clashed with racing thoughts and questions fighting for prominence. After several moments, I tried to sit up with some composure. “A gargoyle? I’m part-gargoyle.”

  “You say it like it’s a bad thing,” my father replied.

  My eyes widened. “Oh, I’m sorry. Should I show more enthusiasm?”

  “Don’t be snarky,” my mom said.

  “Jeez, I don’t know how to react. It’s not every day I find out I’m a monster.”

  “Not a monster,” my mom said. “Just different.”

  I stared at her for several long moment as if she’d lost her mind. They both had. And me. We were a bunch of loonies talking nonsense. Tomorrow I’d wake up and remember all this as a bad dream. My fight with Allana, the encounter with Danton and my parents telling me something I would never concoct in even my wildest sci-fi fantasies. “Tell me everything.”

  “My father, your grandfather, is part of a Catalan tribe of gargoyles that lived outside Barcelona.” My dad leaned forward. “The numbers have dwindled over the centuries and only few pure-blood families remain.” He glanced at a framed picture on a bookshelf of my grandparents. “He met my mother in Barcelona, a human, and they fell in love. They married and had me and my two sisters. We are a mix of what they both are—gargoyle and human. I met your mother,” he nodded her way, “who is also human, and we came to the U.S. after we married. Our family’s surname is actually an old Breton one, Haerviu, which roughly translates as battle-worthy, but we adopted the surname Harvey to blend in. After we settled into our new lives, we had you and then your sister. Many gargoyles have mated with humans and our abilities diminish with each generation as we become more human. But for some, the gargoyle genes run dominant and they remain strong.” His eyes focused on mine with intensity. “We have seen it with you growing up.”

  “You’ve seen my gargoyle characteristics while I grew up.” I shook my head. “You’re playing a joke on me, right? You have to be. What you’re telling me can’t be real.”

  “Think about it, Michael. You know you’ve always been different from the other kids. Your intelligence, your preference for solitude, your intensity in being able to focus, these are all gargoyle traits. Not to mention your speed and your strength.”

  I exhaled, contemplating this, and he continued.

  “You might not remember as you were so young and weren’t into athletics, but simply throwing a ball was something you couldn’t show in any baseball game. The speed and distance would mark you as different. And not just talented like what a scout would notice, but inhuman.”

  “Inhuman,” I repeated. “I’m not human?”

  “Yes you are. Three-quarters to be exact, so you’re mostly human.”

  “Oh well, that’s a relief,” I flipped my hand to emphasize the sarcasm. “I always thought I was a freak. Now I know it.”

  “You’re not a freak, Michael,” my mom said. “You are part gargoyle. That’s something to be proud of, not ashamed of.”

  “I don’t see Dad parading the fact.”

  “You were such a precocious child,” my mom said in a wistful tone. “With all the grade acceleration and trouble connecting to people your own
age, we didn’t want to add anything else to make you feel different.”

  “You’re mostly human and we thought it best you live your life as one,” my dad added.

  “Mostly human? I can’t believe I’m hearing this. This has to be a dream. No, a full-fledged drug-induced nightmare.” I closed my eyes and reopened them. “What about Emma?”

  “Your sister appears to have mostly human traits,” my mother replied. “We’ve only seen the gargoyle ones in you.” She watched me carefully, before adding. “Why don’t you get some air and let this sink in,” my mom said. “It’s a lot to process. I’ll make us some sandwiches.”

  I stood up to go outside, but then stopped in front of the back door. “I feel— I feel so betrayed.”

  “Please don’t feel that way,” she said. “We’re your parents and we love you. We did what we thought was best for you.”

  “I don’t even know what to make of this. It’s insane.”

  “You have a lot to digest,” my dad added. “I’ve been there. It takes time to come to grips with it.”

  I opened the door and went outside. They had a few inches of snow still on the ground out here. My parents had moved to the other side of Route 495, the highway outside of Boston that served as a strange weather marker in Massachusetts; weather forecasters often referred to it in their snow predictions, noting what might fall inside or outside the 495 belt.

  I paced through the snow while I thought about everything they’d told me. What else hadn’t they told me? Could my father transform into a monster like I saw Danton do? Could I?

  I rushed back inside, wiping my boots on the mat so my mother wouldn’t freak out. My mom was making sandwiches in the kitchen and I found my dad still in the recliner. “So can you transform into stone, like a statue?”

  He peered up at me and shook his head. “No, I don’t have that ability. Papa can.”

  Pictured my grandfather turning into a stone monster seemed incongruous with reality. “He can?” I whispered with incredulity.

  “Yes. Scared the heck out of me when he first showed me, but I grew accustomed to it over time. He didn’t do it often, though. Being married to a human, he lived his life more as a human as time went on.”