by C C Roth
“Exactly. And if they’d just upped their rating to R, they could’ve done things differently.”
And then Wyatt gulped his food and sucked all the air from the room. “You know guys there is really no way to know for sure but Navin does have a pretty decent point that a lot of the Star Wars films get really dark and if anyone can go dark it’s Ridley Scott but then again if you’re going to start throwing out names you’d have to add in someone like James Cameron I mean can you imagine what that would have done to the scope of Episode III? But let’s be honest Episode II was the worst but if you’re talking about dark then you’d also have to consider Guillermo del Toro…”
I leaned into Navin, “What the hell are you guys talking about?”
He grinned. “All I said was I liked Star Wars. That was ten minutes ago.”
I laughed and took a glorious bite of my breakfast pastry.
“You’re in a good mood. What’s up?” Navin asked.
Mike answered for me. “She told Mitchell she’s taking his job offer. Isn’t that right?”
I looked around trying to find the giant marque announcing my movements to the world but saw only Karina ducking around a corner.
“Jesus, what a bitch. What did she do, sprint in here to tell you? I just left his office and I was coming to talk to you all.”
“It doesn’t matter who told me. It’s not like I’m surprised, Sam.” Mike shoved one last forkful of eggs into his mouth and stood up.
“Don’t make this a big thing. I told Mitchell that I was in but that you guys would need to decide for yourselves. It’s not like I’m signing you all up or anything. You can do what you want.”
“Oh, thanks for that, Sam. That’s really considerate of you. I can do what I want? I have your permission? This might come as a shock to you but I’m your older brother as in, I’m supposed to out rank you but that doesn’t happen does it, because you don’t care. You just do whatever you want like you always have, without thinking about anyone else, without thinking for yourself either. You just charge ahead taking as many risks as you want and things just happen to work out…sometimes. Except this isn’t high school anymore, Sam. Mom and Dad are dead. They’re dead! And you want to go looking for death for, what? For fun? Because you’re bored? Get your head out of your ass.”
His outburst shocked me to say the least and I just sat there with my mouth hanging open. Mike had never talked to me like that. He’d always been so, I don’t know, delicate with me. Like he thought I would break or something. Most of the room was staring at us enjoying the drama. They had great seats for a reality show-style family feud.
He’s in our way. Let him go.
I wanted to fire back about a thousand different things, but I just couldn’t. Mike was my rock and had always supported me. He didn’t yell at me, ever. I hung my head and felt anger trying to rise up and flush my face but instead a sadness took over and settled in my chest. I felt like I was being crushed by some invisible force. I left my plate on the floor and stormed off in the other direction, a room full of eyes trailing me as I went.
────♦────
Mike didn’t speak to me for the rest of the day and I learned a valuable lesson. The only thing worse than being bored is being bored while surrounded by other people who are having fun. Positive people make me nauseous and they were everywhere. What the hell was wrong with them? Didn’t they know we were in the middle of a war and most of them probably wouldn’t make it? The little kids were too dumb to know they shouldn’t be happy and the older kids were too busy taking care of the littles to be depressed. It was gruesome sitting around watching them. Not to mention, I’d done a terrible job of making friends and my boisterous buddy from the basement, the one who loves to yell ‘mother-fuck,’ kept glaring at me whenever our paths crossed.
Navin had been pretty good at keeping me distracted but I was getting antsy and tired of the close quarters. I tried to watch the news, but it was all death and people freaking out over the upcoming election. Texas was still succeeded and refusing to participate and there were more riots and protests about the election being unfair given the circumstances. I tried to go for a walk, but the rain wouldn’t let up, it just kept coming down in sheets. I played Warcraft with Navin but even that was tedious with a room full of people narrating my every move. I could practically hear my cold friend scratching to get out.
In desperation I retreated to our room for the rest of the day, hiding out from everyone. Mom’s journal was as good a distraction as any, so I decided to lose myself and read it cover to cover, just to make sure I wasn’t missing anything. Maybe those wacky entries would start to make sense or at least drown out the incessant hum of people moving throughout the house.
Journal Entry
June 8, 2010
Jackson and I had a fight again, the same fight we’ve been having for years. I try not to let work get in the way of our life but it’s always there. It’s this permanent stain on our world that I just can’t get rid of no matter how hard I try. He says I’ve been gone too much, I explain it’s important, he wants to know what could be more important than him and the kids. When I can’t tell him, it’s like the merry-go-round starts all over again. It’s exhausting fighting like this, I just want it to go away. I’ve taken on less and less responsibility but there are some things you just can’t walk away from and he’ll never get that. It’s not his fault. They warned me, everyone warned me, but I thought we could make it work. I still do. I want this life we’ve built but sometimes I feel like I’m alone. When I’m with R. sometimes things make more sense. There’s no hiding the truth because we’ve seen it all. Somehow recognizing that makes me feel awful. Like it’s a betrayal to Jackson and the kids. I wish I could be more myself at home, but the truth is I’m gone so much home doesn’t feel like the relief it should. I want out. All the time I think about it. Sometimes I get mixed up about which life it is I want to escape from.
Awesome. Super inspirational, Mom. She was clearly eluding to a double life but what she really meant was she wanted to get away from us. She didn’t want her family. She wanted a life with this R. person. All I could see was my parents’ faces floating in my mind. My Dad’s easy smile, his jokes, his contagious laughter. I couldn’t picture Mom without him, with another man I mean. How could she do that? I had to talk to Mike about it, but it wasn’t the time. He needed his space. I thought about her journal entry and I tried to remember Mom being absent from my life, but nothing stood out. I knew she had traveled a lot for work, although it never seemed odd. But as I thought about it, I realized maybe I just didn’t miss her when she was gone. Her absence might have just been the norm for me as a kid and the one constant was always Mike.
Desperate for more I kept reading. It was a jumbled-up mess, but I learned a thing or two about what she had been feeling over the years. I was able to decipher pretty easily between the phony stories and the real ones. Turns out my mother was a little messed up about her life. Constantly questioning all her decisions and she missed us a lot of the time, so she must’ve been gone more than I ever realized. Years of her life, some real some fiction, poured over me until I couldn’t keep my head up any longer. Her handwriting blurred together and eventually my eyes closed for the night.
────♦────
It had been a shitty day followed by a shitty night’s sleep. I had tossed most of the night, unable to get comfortable and when I did sleep, I was assaulted with endless nightmares. Memories mixed with present day events to produce a torturous onslaught of random emotions.
I was three years old maybe, stomping around the backyard in my new rain boots. They had bright green dots all over them and I loved them. Mike was yelling at me for killing the worms on the pavement that had escaped the rain-soaked grass. In my dream I could smell it. The memory was so vivid, I could actually smell the funky wet scent of rain mixed with dirt and pine needles. So real it was like being transported back to our old yard in Humble.
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“Mikey, I stomp,” I said proudly and sent another worm to its maker.
“Sam, quit. You shouldn’t do that.”
“Why?” I asked confused.
“Because they didn’t do anything to you. You can’t squish something for no reason.”
“Why?”
“Because. Just stop.”
He was mad and pulled my hand to make me sit on the steps.
“No. I stomp,” I pouted.
“You can stomp in the puddles but don’t kill the worms. Promise?”
“Okay, I promise, Mikey,” I lied. I got right up and squished the very first worm I saw then smiled at him proudly.
“Sam, no! You have to go inside.”
He pulled me into the kitchen and closed the sliding glass door. I watched as he collected every single worm from the pavement and carefully transported them to the other side of our fence. I didn’t get it, at all. I wanted to squish worms and for the life of me I couldn’t figure out what the problem was. But Mike was upset so I knew I had to stop; I just didn’t want to. I put my hands on the glass door and started pounding but Mike didn’t hear me. I hit it harder and harder, thundering my tiny fists against it with as much force as I could but Mike just kept to his task of picking up worms. I screamed, my little body shaking with the effort, until a feeling of dread suddenly came over me and I realized I couldn’t get to Mike. The door had shut me out and he could no longer hear or see me even though it was glass. Suddenly, I sensed I wasn’t alone. I turned slowly and found my mother standing behind me, kneeling down with her arms outstretched for a hug. I ran to her and squeezed but when I looked up, her face was gone. She was still there, hugging me tight but she had no face. It had been erased and just a flesh colored blur remained with two gaping holes where her eyes should have been.
“Mommy loves you, Samantha girl,” the creepy mommy-thing said and tried to squeeze me again, but I screamed and ran away as fast as my tiny boots would let me go. Suddenly I wasn’t in my house anymore, just an endless void of white. I kept running without direction until a shadow crept up behind me. It was enormous and began to spread across the white in front of me. Terrified, I tried to outrun it, but I was still only three and my legs were so short. It spread until it covered all the white as far as I could see. Exhausted, I tripped over my rain boots and fell down, turning slowly to see what was pursuing me. The shadow reached for me and I screamed again as it started to engulf me. Then I woke up, breathing heavy and wrestling the sheet on my bed.
A silent room told me I was the first one up. My screams must have been only in my nightmare. I could still see it though, the creepy faceless mommy-thing chasing me, and I had to shake myself a little to get rid of the image. Three sets of bunk beds, which I used to think were really cool, lay quietly loaded up with still sleeping dudes, completely oblivious to my silent torture. Their snores didn’t bother me so much anymore, it was almost like a sound machine. I squashed the impulse to wake Mike and tell him about my dream. We weren’t little anymore and it wasn’t his job to chase my nightmares away.
He was on the bunk above me, so I quietly swung my legs over the edge and grabbed a handful of clothes I’d washed the day before. I only had two outfits to my name, both generously donated by The Home, which meant everyday was laundry day. Ugh, what I wouldn’t have done to go shopping with Nia. She made everything fun, even the monotony of trying on potential ensembles. Sometimes she would bring me the worst possible outfit she could find and make me try it on. I’d model it, sashaying up and down an aisle in leopard print leggings paired with a men’s vest or grandma pajamas tucked into a mini skirt. She’d end up in a fit of laughter on the floor until we would inevitably be asked to leave.
With everyone still sleeping I made my way to the bathroom to change, a rule Mike had laid out our first night there. So over-protective, like any of these guys were looking at me anyway. By some miracle the bathroom was empty, and I hurried so as not to cause a line. I swear there had to be 20 to 30 people on each floor, I don’t know how they managed it. But even with it being so crowded, I was thankful for the simple luxury. Having to squat in the woods for a few days after jumping the train, had given me a newfound respect for modern conveniences. Seriously, toilets are amazing things.
I donned my donated clothes and shrugged as I looked in the mirror. Jeans, unremarkable and saggy. Baggy t-shirt, equally unremarkable. Nia would have shaken her head and said something hilarious like, “that outfit is basic as fuck.”
“Yep, we need to go shopping.” I pulled my hair into its signature ponytail and stopped in the hall outside our door. Even if he was already mad at me Mike would be super pissed if I left alone and besides, Navin was so much fun to torture so I decided to drag him along. I snuck back into our room and tiptoed over to his bed.
“Hey. Hey, wake up.” I shook his arm a few times.
He rolled over in his lower bunk underneath Wyatt and glared at me. “What is it?”
“I’m bored.”
“So? Go back to sleep.”
“C’mon. I want to go out on a run. I don’t want to go by myself.”
He blinked heavily and huffed a huge sigh, “What time is it?”
“Early. Really early.”
“What do you need?”
“Something important,” I lied.
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“Because, you’re my favorite?” I batted my eyes obnoxiously.
“That’s crap and you know it. You’re lucky I’m mildly afraid of you.”
“Yay!” I whispered my excitement, trying not to wake the others. “I’ll grab us some food to take with. Get dressed.”
I crept downstairs and into the kitchen where the crew was hard at work prepping the breakfast. I grabbed some Pop-Tarts and a few bottles of water for us then waited by the lockers for him to come down. I was practically pacing by the time he got there.
“What took you so long?”
“I was debating on going back to sleep but then I thought you might be mad. Then I started thinking of what you might do if I made you mad and I got scared so I couldn’t go back to sleep.”
“You’re hilarious. C’mon, you can drive.”
He eyed me with a “yeah, right” face.
“No really, you can drive,” I dangled the keys in front of him.
“Okay, you’re being weird.”
“I’m just excited to go shopping. I need new clothes.”
His mouth hung open for a second. “No. Absolutely not. No. You woke me up for clothes?”
“Yeah. What?”
“Sam, you don’t need new clothes.”
I splayed my hands, presenting my outfit as if what I was wearing was enough of an explanation.
He shook his head. “What is that, I don’t know what that means. Your clothes are fine. Besides, anything new you get will probably just get destroyed in a day or two.”
“That’s why I need back-ups. These barely fit as it is. C’mon, please? I’ll be good I promise.”
He held up a hand, “Don’t bother lying. Let’s just go.”
“Yay! This’ll be fun.”
Letting him drive was a little painful but luckily, we didn’t have far to go. The mall downtown was only a few blocks away and I’d heard some of the kids talking about the stuff they’d gotten out of there. It sounded like it was still stocked if you were willing to search. Navin pulled up to the front of the building and parked along the curb right in front of a No Parking Zone sign. Another apocalypse plus, no parking tickets.
“Oh my god,” I teased. “Look at you, breaking all the rules. I think I’m starting to rub off on you.”
“Well if I get a ticket, I’ll let you do the talking but until civilization recolonizes this city I’m parking where I want. Besides, there’s no way I’m walking through a dark parking garage, they give me the creeps.”
I chuckled and grabbed my rifle from the backseat. “Scaredy-cat.”
“Yes I am. But a
dmitting it is the first step.”
We strolled up to the enormous building that at one point was an impressive glass front with tall marble columns sandwiching the main doors. But it appeared the impressiveness had been beaten out of it. Someone had defaced the columns with mediocre artwork and delightfully gruesome profanity. The rectangular glass panes surrounding the front entry were pretty much disemboweled giving the main entrance the ghostly appearance of a toothless jack-o-lantern. Shards of thick debris were scattered all over the walkway, our boots sending pieces skittering across the concrete.
“Well that was thoughtful of someone. They made you a door.” Navin gestured toward the biggest rectangular opening.
“Yes, and a sign in case we were lost.”
A red arrow of spray paint pointed to the opening along with the words, buttholes enter here.
“Clever.”
“Well it can be difficult for a butthole to know if they’ll be accepted in a particular establishment,” Navin said thoughtfully.
“So true, this really spells it out for you. How considerate.”
“Please, after you, butthole,” he bowed like a true gentleman.
“Thank you. You’re too kind, Sir Butthole.”
We giggled like idiots for a minute as we maneuvered the crunchy floor of glass fragments.
“So, do you think we’ll find some good stuff in here?” I asked.
“Hard to say. It’s been hit but this is a huge place. I’ll bet there’s plenty of hidden junk somewhere.”
We cleared the main doors and stood in a towering opening faced with five floors encircling what was once a large fountain in the center of the space. There was barely a clean spot left on the floor as if people had just thrown random loads of junk down from the levels above, leaving piles of unwanted leftovers everywhere.
“Ick, people are so rude. C’mon, let’s go in here,” I pointed to the left. “These big stores always have more stuff to choose from.”
Stale popcorn crunched under our boots as we walked into the department store and an overly sweet pungent odor assaulted our noses. Likely a food stand with decaying snacks. The store was as big as a football field with signs hanging from the ceiling marking the different sections. We stood in the shoe section searching for where to start but with no lights it was hard to make out where to go.
