Controlling the Elements

by N. R. Spratlin

  “What are you talking about?” I groan, not comprehending him as I wipe my hand down my stubble on my face.

  I really should take care of that soon.

  “You are coming to help me today.” He states matter of fact, daring me to challenge him.

  “Like hell I am.” I happily accept the challenge he has thrown down and stand straighter, ignoring the all too familiar rolling in my stomach, and unsteady legs.

  “You are. I am absolutely sick and tired of you wasting away in here and not trying to help yourself.” He stands up from his stance at my door and starts to walk almost predatory back to me. “Therefore, since you will not man up and start getting your shit together, I am going to help you along.” I sigh, seeing the look of determination in his eyes and I realize he has his mind made up. I might be stubborn, but Flint beats me by a landslide. That doesn’t mean that I won’t go down without kicking up a little dust though.

  “Why should I? I never made that mess in your bar. Call Connor. He was the one there the other night.” I cross my arms over my bare chest and arch an eyebrow, because damn it the last thing I want to do it manual labor, especially now. Because of him my back is killing me and that’s on top of the hangover from hell.

  “Listen to yourself man; do you even know who you are anymore? Because the Zephyr I know is always the first to chip in a hand and help. No, you are not going to hide anymore. If you will not save yourself I will have to help save you, until your wits come back” he finishes as he reaches my dresser going to the top drawer and pulling out a pair of jeans and random tee. He takes the last remaining steps that separate us and thrusts the clothes into my chest with enough force to send me staggering a few steps backwards. I scramble to grip the clothes and stabilize myself.

  “Ser’yezno Zephyr, ever since your sponsors dropped you and you lost your place on the circuit this year, you have had too much time on your hands. That is part of your problem, too much time. Now like I said you have now…” he pauses to look at his well-worn, black banded watch on his left arm, “… thirty-six minutes to get your ass ready and downstairs to go. We are burning day light.”

  I only glare at him, half temped to crawl back on to my mattress that is still lying haphazardly on the floor, along with my comforter and pillows, but something he has said has taken root in my head making a slow trek through my mind over and over again.

  ‘Do you even know who you are anymore?’

  If I were to be honest with myself, I know the answer. No, I don’t know who I am anymore. I have accepted a few months ago, that I have lost myself to the hurt and emotional pain.

  My main problem, since I’m trying to be truthful with myself, is that I don’t know how to get it back to the person I was. The person I crave to be each and every day, so much so, that I lose myself to that damn bottle when I realize it’s not happening. I’m just a lost man, on a deserted island alone, drowning in the water with no lifeline and no way to get out; the darkest depths pulling me down.

  I lift my head to tell him okay, but realize he has already left. I toss the clothes I’ve been clutching tightly to my chest onto the mattress and rub my hands over my face.

  Am I really going to be able to go back to that care free lifestyle? Right now, I doubt it. Life hurts too much.

  Then I remember Flint’s words, he’s going to try and save me if I’m not going to try and save myself. So, with a defeated sigh, I head towards my bathroom to take a shower.

  I might as well go along with it, well at least until he gives up on his hero notion; until he finally sees me for who I truly have become. I am a parasite to humanity and a loser who’s not worth saving. His lifeline will snap and I’ll drown.

  ***

  It takes me twenty minutes to scrub the previous night’s stench off from me and another ten to get my face back into a semblance of normality; no fluffy beard on my face anymore. Its baby steps, but hopefully they will amount to something eventually.

  As I’m brushing my teeth, I look up and see myself in the cabinet mirror. I mean truly look at myself. I grimace. My skin looks shallow and there are deep purpling crevasses under my puffy bloodshot eyes. Not to mention that it has been forever since I’ve gelled and styled my hair into its faux hawk. Lately, I’ve just been wearing it down and shaggy, but this morning while trying to get it back into its style, I notice it’s way past in need of a trim. Though for today, I have managed to get it back in an acceptable order. For the first time in a long time, since the day I received that life altering phone call, I look like I take pride in my appearance.

  After finishing my bathroom routine, I walk back into my room; my mattress is still on the floor. I bend my knees and pick it up awkwardly, struggling to get a good grip on the large, heavy thing. After several failed attempts, I give up trying to pick it up and drag it across the floor, one step of a time. Once it’s besides my bed I drop it, stretching out my back as I catch my breath.

  How the hell did Flint easily lift this thing? I’m either weak from drinking all the time or he’s super strong.

  I rummage through my mini fridge, having to take out several cans of beer, whisky, and vodka until I come across what I’m after. Once I put the alcohol away, I open the lid and take deep gulps of cool, refreshing water. Once I’ve had enough, I screw back on the lid and put it down to attempt to lift the mattress again.

  With great difficulty, I set it back on my frame and go looking for my phone as it took flight along when my mattress did. I lift all my bedding, plopping it on top of my bed in a tangled mess, spotting my phone on the floor where it had been covered.

  Four minutes left.

  I walk to my closest digging out the tool belt I keep in the back, grab my dark brown Timberland boots and a pair of socks, before I head down to the kitchen.

  I hope Flint lets me at least grab some more water and a couple of aspirin before we leave. Hell, I could even go for something greasy while we are at it.

  As soon as I hit the landing the chatter which I had heard coming down the stairs stops, and everyone’s eyes suddenly lock on to me.

  Wow, way to make a guy feel self-conscious.

  “What?” I question, smelling the air, my eyes lighting up. I’m soon heading over to the island where a plate of hashbrowns, eggs, and bacon are waiting.

  Hmm looks so good.

  I look at Connor and lift my eyebrow in question.“Dig in, it’s yours. Flint told me to tell you to meet him at the bar after you finish. He went on ahead.”

  Wow, I guess he really did have more faith in me than I do myself. Somehow, that helps to ease a bit of guilt, while instantaneously giving me a sliver of hope that maybe I can find my way back even if it means depending on him to help me along.

  After my stomach is satisfied with food, I put on my boots and socks and head towards the door. As I’m walking down the street, I finally start to realize that it has been quite some time since I last saw the sun shining like this; even if it’s a little chilly out. I quickly raise my face to the sun basking in the feeling. It takes me about ten minutes to reach Mesto. It’s great that Flint was able to rent a shop right in the downtown area, and truthfully, I’m proud of the man for actually settling himself down somewhere. I know since then he has been much happier.

  Walking in the front door, straight away I notice the compete devastation of the pub. Wiring has gone to hell, glass, and bits of debris everywhere crunching under my feet. Singe marks, burnt bits of plastic and wood, the flooring ruined. Chairs, and stools which have legs broken and stuffing missing. I sniff the air as a faint smell of smoke lingers. I can tell that bits and pieces have already been cleared up for the workmen to move with a little ease. The only thing that looks unharmed is the bar and behind it the counter.

  Sand blasters and plank boards are all ready to be used. Flint is just finishing up nailing some new pieces of wood to the stage when he notices me. He gives me a lopsided smile.

  "Go ahead and pick up a sander, we need to smooth ou
t the window panes and replace the actual windows if possible." He nods in the direction of the materials.

  "Sure, no problem," I reply as I head over to grab the tools. It feels weird holding a sander in my hand again. The last time I held one must have been when I was at Deacon's surf shop. We were trying to thin out a frame to give to Lyon for when he became older. I frown, staring at the sander.

  Does Dillon know that Deacon had been working on a custom board for him? I wonder where that board is now.

  I pick up the machine and check the sand paper. Flint, being the ever prepared one, seems to have already laced a new sheet on there so all I have to do is go.

  I walk over to the first window that has been busted out, the one closest to the door and then realize that I will also need to go grab a hammer and knock some of the remaining shards of glass out. My lip twists up slightly with dark humor.

  It seems it’s all I’m doing lately.

  As I look around, it hits me. I really don’t know what has happened here.

  No one really has filled me in on what has been going on. Although, it’s not like I can blame them, I have been an ass lately. All I know is that, it must have something to do with Dillon, and the fact Everett thinks she is our Manipulator.

  I frown, with that idea alone; it is enough to confuse me even more. My hands begin to shake, feeling the need to drink some alcohol to numb my confusion and questions. I hate how my body has got so used to coping with the emotions that it automatically needs alcohol.

  When exactly did I become the person who covers up everything and takes the temporary and easy way out by a fleeing moment of perpetual numbness?

  I take in a deep steadying breath then let it go while I stare out the glassless window, allowing the rays of the sun surround me in a warm glow. I stand here until the shaking and urges subside. For the first time in a while I decide that I need to take out my emotional overhaul in a healthy way. So, I pick up a hammer and start to chip away the remaining bits of glass.

  Around thirty minutes pass, and my body starts to feel the stress from the lack of work lately. My whole body starts to tremble, feeling weak, not to mention that I have started to smell the alcohol sweating out of my pores. I’m pretty sure Flint can smell me from where he is over by the stage knee deep in reconstruction.

  "Hey, how does this look?" I shout over as soon as I get the first window up. I’m not so sure about the placement for some reason it looks a bit off centered to me.

  "Looks fine,” Flint says after he passes a scrutinizing eye over it.

  "Are you sure? It looks a bit wonky from my angle." I take a few steps back not being able to place what is really off about it.

  "I do not see anything wrong from over here, hold on." he replies as he puts his hammer back into his tool belt and stands up from the now sawdust riddled floor. He takes his time walking back towards the window. His face shows a pensive look as he takes a closer inspection, trying to see any discrepancies.

  "Ah, I see what it is." He finally proclaims right as he gets to where I’m standing.

  "What?" I still can’t see it.

  He steps over to where the rest of the materials are scattered around the bar and grabs a small step stool. Back at the window, he pops it out and climbs up.

  "Here, hand me the sander, you forgot to shave off the excess wood chippings along the top, so that is why it looks weird from where you are at."

  I tilt my head up to the area he was pointing at, and sure enough, there is a small chunk of wood just hanging along the upper right-hand corner.

  "Well damn it, I’m sorry. Here, I can get it." I try to urge him back down. My skin is itching to get back to concentrating on work so I don’t have to deal with those errant thoughts.

  "No worries muzhchina, I am up here so just hand me the sander." He glances down at me and I can see in his eyes that he is sincere. I pick it up and hand it up to him, moving the electric cord enough so it won’t get in his way. After about two minutes of smoothing the window, it finally looks right to me.

  "Here, why don't you go grab a bottle of water out of the fridge, you’re sweating like a pig." I follow his gaze, and look down at my shirt and realize that I have indeed collected some nice sweat patches along the front, and on my armpits. I cringe to think what the back of my shirt looked like.

  "Alright, do you want one?" I offer.

  "Yeah sure," He mutters as he goes back to inspecting the window.

  I make my way towards his bar and notice that all of his smoky grey glass shelves have been cleared of bottles. There’s a faint tang of bleach in the air, so I can only assume he has taken a big hit in his liquor stock.

  "Hey man," I shout to him as I’m behind the bar, “you never really told me what happened." I push open the cold metal top and reach around for a couple bottles of water. My hand makes contact with a cold glass bottle first. I look down and realize that he has beer stocked in here. He normally keeps the min the cooler further down the bar. I promptly look in the direction of the cooler, but that cooler is actually missing.

  Huh, I guess it took a beating too.

  "Well, that makes two of us not fully explaining things." Flint replies as he stops his work, looking over his shoulder at me. I look at him confused.

  "What are you talking about?" Not sure what he’s trying to get me to confess to.

  "Why didn't you tell us you knew Dillon as soon as her name was mentioned?" He pins me down with a hard stare, the one that usually makes any of us to fess up. I instantly prickle at his question. The uncomfortable roll of my stomach is back, and I want nothing more than to reach towards that other side and crack open a bottle of beer; the cold condensation on the bottles stare at me as if begging me to drink. My hands start to shake again. I wrap them both around my bottle of water trying to prevent them from reaching out. I want to drink some, needing so badly to escape; my brow starts to sweat more. It’s then that I fully realize something; I have a problem.

  "It is none of your business." I snap, while taking my hand off the bottle to rub the back of my neck.

  Is it just me or is it really hot in here?

  I place my hand over my chest, feeling my heart starting to palpitate fast as my anxiety ricochets up a few notches.

  He doesn’t need to know about her. I don’t want him to realize what a monumental fuck up I am. I don’t want any of them to know.

  "Since when do we hide things from each other Zephyr? Haven't you figured it out yet?" he looks at me like I should know what he is talking about. Obviously, I don’t. Once he realizes that, he sighs and continues.

  "We went into this alliance to work together as a team. We are connected in such a way that we will be there for each other for the rest of our lives, God willing. We are only strong as our weakest link. And right now, you buddy have been our weakest link for quite some time. So why don't you suck up your pride a bit and let us help you out." He finishes in a sincere tone. I’m suddenly flooded with a massive amount of adrenaline running through me at the acknowledgement that he knows something which I’ve been trying to hide. I swallow thickly, feeling sick at the thought. I know he’s trying to reach out to me, but it’s too much.

  "It's just not that easy,'" I confess, knowing now the reason why Flint made me get out of the house today.

  "Of course, it is, just start talking." I look up at him hesitantly.

  Would it really help just to open up like that? Maybe it could, because obviously what I have been doing is not helping one bit.

  "Well do you mind if I grab a beer? This is going to be a long ride." I ask, shifting uncomfortably on my feet.

  "Don't you think that shit has held you back enough man?" Flint asks with a hint of worry in his voice. I slump my shoulders knowing he’s right. So, I grab a cold bottle of water for him, while my almost full bottle is still in my hand.

  I make my way over to where he is. He snags a couple of chairs which haven’t been badly broken, while I pick up a towel to wipe the foul smel
ling sweat off of me.

  "I don't know where to start," I confess after I pass him his drink, and place mine of the ground by my foot. I take a seat as I make a few passes over my face with the towel.

  "The beginning is always a good place." He retorts like some wise old man. I look up sharply seeing if it was said sarcastically, but by the worried expression on his face I know it isn’t. I hesitate for a brief moment and open my mouth; I groan and then take a swig of my water. I look into his eyes, feeling nervous, but surprisingly the words start flowing with ease.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “I mean, here I was, caught between a rock and a hard surface.” - Zephyr

  Zephyr

  I told him about the day when my mom had moved us to this town after my father’s funeral, how she changed so much since his death. She was so detached, barely knew or cared when I was around. In order to cope, she would drink a bottle of cheap whiskey every night, until one bottle turned into two, two into three. I barely saw her sober for around two years. I was so sad after losing my father, but I also lost my mom as she was no longer emotionally available to me. She was an amazing mom beforehand, and I couldn’t understand the change, I thought it was my fault at that age. I felt so alone and knew no one in town.

  Thinking back now, I realize just how close I’m getting to following down her path. Without the support and help she received, she would have died an early death. I suppress a shiver. Far too close a call.

  I carried on telling Flint about how I meet the twins in school, with their blonde hair, big smiles, and twinkling eyes that welcomed me straight away. They were always there, never allowing me to stay sad for too long. Flint laughed with me as I told him stories of growing up together, the mischief we made, and how we pulled pranks on unexpected victims. It stirred up long forgotten happy memories. I mentioned how Dillon became extremely jealous when I snuck around to play with her brother.

  No girls aloud.