by Mike Kilroy
It appeared that assumption was incorrect.
What was real? Before or After?
The answer seemed to be: both.
Chapter Seven
Little Tommy Boy
A light dusting of snow covered the grass as Solo knelt and scooped up a handful of slush. He packed it into the silver construction hat that looked now like a giant Snow Cone.
The clothes Mar had given him—a pair of tattered jeans, a red and black flannel shirt and an old, black leather coat her father once wore—hung loose on his frame, but were much better than the blood-soaked threads he had discarded.
Solo stared down at the red on his hands. The blood had dried and the pink of his skin showed through only in the cracks when he bent his fingers. He rubbed them in the snow and on his shirt and on his pants and on anything he could, but the blood would not come out.
“Out, damned spot,” Solo whispered.
Solo mixed the snow and ice with his right hand in the construction hat as if he was kneading bread and walked back inside the house.
“Got any soap?” Solo asked as he stood in the arch to the living room and watched as Mar lounged on an old couch with yellow, flower-pattern upholstery and stroked Uno’s head as the pup nestled it into her lap.
“That won’t work,” Mar said as she slowly got up. Uno looked up at her through sad eyes, rested her head on an equally garish upholstered pillow, and let out a soft whine. “I think I have something that’ll work.”
Mar sprinted upstairs and returned quickly, tossing a bottle of liquid at Solo. It plopped perfectly into the construction hat, splashing cold water into Solo’s face.
He reached into the murky water and pulled out the bottle. He read the label, his eyes knitting together in confusion.
“K-Y? You have K-Y?”
Mar smiled coyly. “It works. Trust me.”
Solo cocked his head and looked at Mar. “Why do you have K-Y?” Mar’s face began to flush. “Never mind.”
Solo squeezed some of the K-Y Ultragel Personal lubricant into his palm and scrubbed his hands with it. He was amazed at how easily it removed the blood.
Mar smiled proudly. “See.”
Solo was disturbed that she had K-Y, but even more disturbed that she knew it removed blood from the skin. He realized then that he really knew nothing about Mar—other than she was deeply, deeply flawed, duplicitous and possibly a sociopath.
He also realized that she couldn’t help it.
Whether she was a product of a terrible upbringing, influenced by bad people in her social circle or just plain demented, she had saved his life.
That counted for something.
Solo could feel the bond, and it wasn’t just because they had faced death together. It was a palpable feeling because they shared the same foibles, the same pain, the same faulty wiring inside their fragile and confused minds.
As Solo scrubbed, dipping his hands into the melted snow that was now tinged crimson, he peered up at Mar, who plopped back down onto the couch and resumed her petting of Uno. “I’m not going to ask why you have K-Y or how you know it removes blood stains from the skin, even though I really want to know.”
Mar winked. “A girl has her secrets.”
Solo smiled. “Don’t you have something you want to ask me?”
Mar grinned. “Ask you what?”
“Seriously?”
“Okay, okay.” Mar slipped out from under Uno again as the dog let out a small whine. She shushed her and walked to Solo. “I wasn’t sure how to bring it up. Babylon? What was that all about? That was fucking nuts, even for you.”
“It’s going to sound even more nuts.”
Mar snickered. “Everything you say sounds nuts, so why would that bother me?”
She straightened out his coat as Solo finished cleansing his hands and arms. “As near as I can guess, this is the future—at least my future—and I’m here from the past. Or this is the present, and I’m taking trips back in time. I’m not quite sure yet.”
Mar let out a snort as she fixed his collar; the right side of it had folded under itself. “Jesus, Solo, that’s kind of out there, even for you.”
Solo frowned. “Well, I believe this is real now and not just all in my head.”
She examined his hands and began drying them with a towel. “That’s a start.”
“I keep bouncing back and forth. My memories are coming back, too.”
She looked up at him and bit her lower lip. “I wish my memories would come back. Maybe I don’t. Maybe I should be careful what I wish for. And maybe you should, too.”
“I’m in a psych ward with a little Chinese man, a babbling dude in a robe, a guy with rotting teeth, a really obnoxious girl and a chick with sunglasses. I didn’t wish for that.”
Mar flashed a smile meant to humor him. Solo had seen smiles like that in the Before, lots of times. People showed him that smile when they had no idea how to deal with him. They were trying to be polite, but it only mocked him, belittled him and made him feel inferior.
Solo could see the gears of her mind turning, trying to contemplate what he had just told her. “A psych ward?” she asked as her smile evaporated.
“Yes.”
“Well, that makes sense. You are batshit crazy, after all.” She winked and punched him softly on the shoulder.
Solo lowered his head and shut his eyes. “You don’t believe me.”
“How can I? It’s … It’s preposterous. They are memories, maybe, or dreams or something you saw in a stupid movie. All I know is we are here now and we need to survive and I need to get out of this house and the rotting dead guys upstairs.”
Mar grabbed Solo’s backpack and handed it to him and then retrieved her backpack and slung it over her shoulders. She called Uno and the pup eagerly obeyed, peering up at her through excited, black eyes with her tail wagging in a circle like the blade of a windmill.
Mar stood in front of Solo and tapped her boot on the hardwood floor expectantly. “So, Marty McFly. Where are we headed?”
Solo clenched his jaw and eyed her with determination. “To where it all started.”
***
Eye Lyds brushed the snow away with the sleeve of her coat.
She stared at the stone, set into the ground, and sighed.
Solo stood behind her. His sigh was one of frustration. “What are we doing here?”
“I wanted to see him.”
“You don’t even know if it’s a him. It could be a her. It could be a dog buried there for all we know.”
“No. It’s a him.”
Solo thought it creepy that they lived so close to a cemetery. He would sit and stare out at the tombstones from his bedroom window at night as a child. He swore he saw ghosts.
Eye Lyds reassured him that he didn’t. She was sure there was no such thing as ghosts.
She was fascinated with this particular spot and this particular stone, unmarked. No name. No date. Just a slab in the ground, surrounded by empty plots.
It fascinated Solo, too. He tried to hide that from Eye Lyds, but she saw through him. She had a way of seeing deep into his mind, heart and soul.
“No one visits him. No one leaves him flowers or anything. Let’s dig him up!”
Solo grabbed her arm. “I told you. We can’t do that. You can’t do that.”
Eye Lyds lowered her head. “I know.”
“You have to be smart. Mom and Dad already hate it when we come here. You remember how mad Dad got the last time.”
“Dad’s always mad.” Eye Lyds said as she pulled her winter hat tighter over her dark hair and red ears.
“It would be nice to solve the mystery,” Solo said, shoving his hands into the pocket of his coat, bracing against the cold.
Eye Lyds stood, startled. Her big eyes were even bigger as she scanned the darkness. “He’s coming!”
***
Each step Solo took on the cold road, glazed with slush, he dreaded.
He wasn’t exactly sure why he was filled wit
h such foreboding, but he was. Each stride that brought him closer to his childhood home in Avella, a rural town in the Middle of Nowhere, Pennsylvania, forced his heart to thrum a beat faster and his angst to swell palpably more.
“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Tom rubbed his fingers through his beard and walked alongside Solo as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Perhaps he didn’t. His words were couched in cheer, which was odd.
Tom was never cheerful.
Never.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“I’m not so sure you’re sure.”
“I’m sure enough.”
Solo peered back at Mar, who walked a pace behind so Uno wouldn’t have to tax herself to keep up. She tossed crumbs of a breakfast bar behind her to keep the dog interested in only the path ahead.
“I gotta know,” Tom said. “What do you think you’re gonna find there?”
“Some answers.”
Tom scoffed. “You’ll only find more questions.”
“If you know, why don’t you tell me? You’re part of me, so I must already know the answers, I just can’t remember them. Why are you hiding things from me?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“No. No, it isn’t.”
“Jesus.” The gruffness had returned to Tom’s voice. “You just don’t get it.”
Solo clenched his jaw in frustration. “Who are you?”
“Ah, that’s the question, isn’t it? Who am I? What do I represent in your little damaged noggin. You’re dyin’ to know, but like Devil Bitch said, ‘Be careful what you wish for.’”
“What’s that supposed to mean.”
“I’m here for a reason. I’ve always been with you, protecting your sorry ass, pointing you the way. You try to resist me, but you can’t. There is no head so holy that the devil does not make a nest in it.”
“You’re the devil?”
“No. But I ain’t no saint.”
“I’ve done bad things. I deserve to be here, don’t I?”
Tom scoffed. “Everyone’s done bad things, you fucker. No one deserves this.”
“Wait up, you’re walking too fast,” Mar yelled. Solo slowed and peered over his shoulder at Mar, who jogged up to him. “Uno needs a break. Let’s stop in that house over there.” She pointed to a farmhouse on top of a hill. “It looks in good shape and it’s cold and it’ll be getting dark soon.”
Solo felt Tom hovering next to him and, out of the corner of his eye, saw Tom’s grinning lips through that thicket of a beard. Tom was taunting him. “No. I need answers and there is plenty of light left.”
Mar’s smile dipped into a frown. She examined him a long while—an uncomfortably long while. Solo now had two sets of eyes, one real and one imaginary, cutting through him. He didn’t much like the feeling. “What’s the hurry? It’s not like we have jobs to get back to. We’re free. We do what we want, when we want. You’ll get your answers soon enough. C’mon.”
Mar sprinted down the road and then up the hill, stumbling a bit as she did. Uno playfully bit at her heels.
“Well, I guess she wears the pants in the family,” Tom chortled. “Better get after her before she gets cross.”
Solo had always thought of Tom as his benevolent companion, someone he could always count on, someone who was always there for him. Yes, it was odd to have such a specter, but he was like a warm blanket on a cold night—soothing and comfortable.
Now, things were different. Tom was no longer soothing, but abrasive. Tom mocked him, he ridiculed him and Solo had no idea why.
Perhaps it was a defense mechanism. Perhaps it was Tom’s way of doing whatever he could to protect Solo.
Maybe the truth and memories he sought were dangerous, to Solo and to Tom.
But he had to know. It was an ache like a hunger, an ache like a thirst, an ache like a haunting loneliness in need of a companion.
He had to know.
Tom be damned.
***
Mar strummed on her guitar. It appeared she knew how to play only one song—it was the same tune she played in Walmart when he found her—but he didn’t mind much. She played it well and it was one of the only things that calmed him.
Uno slept peacefully in the corner. It was cold, but they were out of the wind and the pellet-like snow that lashed at them.
Mar stopped her strumming and set the guitar aside. She looked at Solo most peculiarly. “What’s your deal?” She asked.
The question stunned Solo, who opened his mouth to say something before realizing he had nothing to say. “W—what?”
“You look lost.”
Solo chuckled. He was so lost, in fact. Always had been. It was as if everyone had a map but him. He just stumbled about. He couldn’t remember if he had a career, but figured he didn’t judging by the modest home in which he lived. He had no ring on his finger, a few valuable possessions in a cardboard box that once held cans of SpaghettiOs, and he felt old and used up.
The girl in front of him was young and vibrant.
What was his deal? What was her deal being here with him and looking at him as if he were the only man in the world.
Well, I sort of am the only man in the world.
“I get the feeling I was just as alone in the Before as I am now, maybe more so. I get the feeling I have done nothing of any significance, that if I did fall off the face of the Earth, no one who was left would even care to look for me.”
“I always felt like a misfit, as if I didn’t belong anywhere. I used to hide myself away. I didn’t want to be seen because of my eyes. I was called freak. I’ve felt alone, too. We’re a lot alike.”
She reached out her hand and grabbed his.
“We’re definitely alike now,” Solo said, squeezing her hand. It was so soft and small in his.
Mar swallowed hard and spoke again through a cracking voice. “I don’t remember much from before the world went to shit. My memories are gone, but I have feelings, you know? Feelings about the person I was and the people who were around me. I know I hated it there, back in that house. I know my father was abusive and my mother didn’t seem to care about anything. But the particulars—those are gone. It’s weird that you have the same huge gaps in your memory.”
Solo nodded. “It’s no coincidence.”
“I guess not.”
“The guys you were with, Vegetable Guy and Stocky Guy, did you talk much?”
Mar cocked her head. “Vegetable Guy?”
“The guy with the X tattoo,” Solo pointed to his hand. “He was in the Before in that psych ward.”
“Well, we didn’t talk much.”
“I see.”
Mar’s eyes shot open and she shook her head. “No. No. It wasn’t like that. We were all trying to survive and we decided the best way was to stick together. I kept them in line with the drugs and they fought off rabid animals and helped me scrounge for food. I tell you what, X—that’s what we called ‘Vegetable Guy’—was the strongest person I’ve ever seen. Didn’t look it, though. I saw him carry a tree trunk over his head for firewood. We never saw anyone else … until you.”
“I was lucky, I guess.”
Mar lowered her head. “I’m sorry about what I did to you.”
“It’s all in the past now.”
“Or the future,” Mar said, laughing.
Solo couldn’t help but smile. Mar had a way of disarming him.
Tom didn’t like it. “You keep falling for the same trap. Every. Single. Time.”
Solo didn’t heed his words. He trusted Mar, for better or for worse.
He hoped not worse.
Solo sat on the faded hardwood floor, its color bled by the wear of time, and pressed his back against the ugly couch. He pulled his legs up to his chest and rested his chin on his boney knees.
Mar sat beside him, snaking her arm around his thighs and pecked him on the cheek. Solo turned his head to peer into her eyes and saw a longing in them, a longing to belong, to be accepted, to be loved and he dove in
to that abyss, if only for a moment.
She leaned in, her lips gently touching his and they shared a soft, warm kiss before Solo pulled away.
“What’s wrong?” Mar asked. She was hurt.
I didn’t want to hurt her.
“This isn’t right. I’m too old for you.”
Mar scoffed. “What does age matter now? Besides, you’re not that much older.”
He remembered VHS tapes that you had to rewind and Sony Walkmans. He remembered film and Polaroid pictures. She grew up with the Internet, with cell phones and MP3 players and CDs. With camera phones. He was Generation X. She was a Millennial. They couldn’t be more different.
“I’m sorry,” Solo said.
He really was.
Mar lowered her head and peered down at her lap. Just then Uno jumped on her and began licking at her face.
Mar giggled. “Well, at least someone loves me.”
“I do love you, Mar.” Solo reached out, grabbed her hand and squeezed it. She looked at him with a tender smile. “I do. Just—”
“Hey. It’s okay.” Mar punched him on the arm. “We should get some sleep.”
Mar pushed herself off the floor and slung her guitar and backpack over her shoulder. She called for Uno and the pup obeyed as she marched into the other room.
Solo thought he could see her brush a tear away from her face.
***
“I have a devil on my shoulder,” Solo said.
It sparked a raised eyebrow from Dr. Head Shrinker. “Oh, tell me about him.”
“He whispers things in my ear. He says he is trying to help, but he lies. I resist him the best I can, but sometimes I can’t.”
“At least you try to resist, Morris.”
“I worry for my sister.”
“Why is that?”
“He wants to hurt her, too.”
“Do you feel remorse, Morris?”
Solo’s eyes welled up with tears. He tried to blink them away, but failed. The tears were warm as they ran down his cheeks. “Yes. All the time.”
“Do you feel regret?”
“Yes. All the time.”
“Why?”
“I fear I can’t protect her.”
***
Solo stared at Mar’s back as she walked unrelentingly forward. She didn’t look behind her. She didn’t so much as utter a syllable. Her purpose was straight and true.
