Shadow's Night

by Bryan James

  She was reading Breakfast of Champions that evening, thinking Vonnegut got it wrong and that she lived in the asshole of the Universe and that if she wasn’t careful she might live there for the rest of her life. She moaned at the thought. She wanted a distraction and she thought about Kevin. She hadn’t talked to him in weeks since he had been back to class. She took out her phone and called him.

  “Come down and visit me,” she said as soon as he picked up. “I’m bored and no one is here.”

  Alone in his room with one hand pressing the phone to his ear and the other scrolling through his dashboard he looked to the clock. He was bored too and there was nothing he had to do immediately. He agreed and ended the call before he got up from his desk chair, tightened the belt to his jean shorts, and made sure his fly was up. He stuck his phone in his pocket, checked the weight of it there, and headed out.

  No one was there to notice him leave. He slipped his shoes on at the front door, pulled the door shut behind him making sure it was locked before he turned on his feet and made the quick five minute walk to Main Street and the coffee shop. He looked through the main window to Heather who looked back with her chin propped on her hand still bored. He opened the door to the smell of coffee and baked goods. His hands in the pockets of his hooded jacket he walked to the counter.

  “Do you want something?” she asked.

  “Uh,” he said before he looked back to the two people by the window. “I don’t know. Calories, you know, maybe just a tea.”

  “No problem, go have a seat and I’ll bring it over,” she said.

  He suddenly felt guilty for her waiting on him, and he hadn’t even paid. He reached into his pocket for the few loose dollar bills but when she saw him she shook her head and motioned for him to go where she had told him to go. He pulled out the dollars anyway and put them in the tip cup before he walked to the table, did a quick assessment of where she would need to sit to keep and eye on the door and sat in the opposite spot. He listened to her. She was getting a tea for herself, something to eat.

  Was it something to share? He groaned at the thought. He was hungry, just a little bit, but he knew he’d look better if he denied it rather than indulge. She stepped out from behind the counter and walked to him where she set down a tray. There were two teas and two scones.

  “You’re mean,” he said.

  “Just a few carbs,” she said. “Besides you get plenty of exercise.”

  “This will be an extra mile, maybe half,” he said.

  “Skinny Mr. Kevin,” she said. She saw him wince at the comment. “Sorry, it just came to mind. We haven’t talked about it in a while. Does your father still check up on you?”

  “Sometimes,” he said.

  “That’s nice,” she said. “He cares.”

  “So what do you want to do?”

  “I don’t know, blow my brains out maybe.”

  He recoiled at her sarcasm.

  “Sorry, it’s been a long day,” she said. “I’m going to buy bullets with my tips.”

  He raised an eyebrow at her and crossed one leg over the other to turn away from her slightly mocking her desperate, bitter attitude. She pulled her hands to her face and let out a grunt of disgust before she stretched out her arms and lay face down on the table for a second before she raised her shoulders with an inhale of air.

  “That bad?”

  “I’m here breakfast, lunch, and dinner everyday. I can take time off here and there, I convinced my father to get someone to help but it’s all just the same. It was bad when there were more people I knew from high school but there’s been two classes since we graduated. They get dumber each year. Somehow the place became hip.

  “God, the other day there were a group of teen girls in here who talked about the television show Friends the whole time and how they wanted to go to New York. Boy are they going to be disappointed.”

  “Reruns,” he said. “It gives us such bad impressions.”

  “My father likes it but ugh, I’d rather be in some bookstore somewhere, reading quietly in the back, only sell things occasionally.”

  “People would steal your books,” he said.

  “No one steals books,” she said. “They’re not worth anything.”

  She broke off a piece of scone and stuck it in her mouth, began to chew. Kevin watched her, looked at his own scone, looked away.

  “How’s class?” she asked.

  “Boring but I’ll get through it,” he said, “we’re supposed to research our local town and write a piece about it for our final paper. It’s not due for a long time though.”

  “Not much to write about here,” she said.

  “Some white people took land from some natives who suffered on a reservation until a loophole allowed them to open a casino where poor people of all colors go to gamble and buy cheap cigarettes.”

  “Wow, that doesn’t sound bitter at all,” she said.

  He laughed mockingly at her causing her to smile.

  “So really what do you want to do?” he asked.

  “Tarot card reading,” she said.

  “Aw, come on?”

  “No, it’ll be good.”

  She got up from the table and went behind the counter to her bag where she retrieved a cloth bag that held her Tarot cards and returned with it. She sat across from him with renewed energy. She opened the bag, got out the cards, and shuffled them. She held them close to her body with her eyes closed, readied herself across from him before she slid them in his direction. He picked up the cards. They had been through this several times but each time he relied on her instruction and her creativity for what the cards meant.

  “You deal your own fate,” she said.

  He shuffled the cards, toyed with her a little before she instructed him on how to lay them out for a twenty-one card reading. She looked at them for several minutes when something else caught her eye, a spark. She looked up through the main window to the sidewalk where she saw a young man, a stranger, Conrad, with a cigarette in his hand signaling for someone to join him. The stranger was handsome. He wore a leather jack, the collar up towards his face to protect him from the wind.

  “Who is that?” she asked.

  Kevin turned on his seat to look out the front window. He looked to the young man, was captivated by his handsome face, his button nose, and kissable lips. He didn’t have to be gay, he thought, anyone would want him.

  “Holy shit,” Heather said, “look who’s walking up to him.”

  Kevin turned a little more to see the direction the young man was staring to see a familiar person stop in front of him. He knew that face.

  “It’s Simon Winters,” she said.

  Kevin turned around back to her, his muscles and joints slightly ached by the way he was turned. He let out a grunt of pain and looked her in the eye before he turned back to see the two young men outside the coffee shop talking, then he looked back to her with one ear listening for the door.

  “Do you think they’re coming in here?” she asked.

  “Has he ever come in here?”

  “No, I’ve never seen him in here. He usually sticks to himself. I only ever see him in the library sometimes but he’s always alone. I’ve thought about going up and saying something to him.”

  “More like getting his autograph,” he said.

  “He’s infamous, not famous,” she replied.

  “Is he moving in this direction?”

  “I think they are,” she said.

  They looked to the door where Conrad pushed his way inside followed by Simon who walked with his hands in his pockets. Heather jumped to her feet and made her way behind the counter to where her patrons took turns looking at each other, the selection of baked goods, and coffee.

  “I’m terrible at this,” Conrad said.

  “I told you I’ve never been here,” Simon replied. He was annoyed for having been dragged along and didn’t want it to be any easier.

  “Can I help you?” Heather asked.


  Conrad leaned against the counter and looked into Heather’s eyes, looked her over before looking to Kevin who sat staring back at him. They caught each other’s eyes and looked away, each with nearly the same thought, he’s cruising me, here. Conrad shook off the thought.

  “I usually just get black coffee and a scone,” he said.

  “We can do that,” she said.

  “What about your friend?”

  Everyone looked to Simon who held up a hand of slight protest. He looked to the floor and out into the street trying to show no interest.

  “He’ll have the same,” Conrad said.

  She rang up the order but she wanted to know more. She had an idea.

  “I uh, usually call out a name,” she said.

  “Conrad,” he replied.

  Heather and Kevin looked to each other as Conrad began to count out cash. He paid with a ten dollar bill and when he got back the change he dropped a dollar and the change in the tip cup. Simon looked ready to leave but Conrad led him to a table where they sat. Conrad cast one last look across the room to Kevin who had focused back on the Tarot cards on the table. He spied the young man’s muscled calf and the way he played with his hair. Maybe there were queers here after all, he thought, and maybe I should get to know them.

  Chapter 06 - The Archivist

  That night after Simon and Conrad had left the coffee shop Heather decided no one else would be coming by so she decided to close early and Kevin walked her home. They walked the familiar path to her house in near silence as each thought over their brief, mostly quiet encounter. Simon was a celebrity around town for all the wrong reasons. He was infamous and there were many rumors about him, few that either Kevin or Heather had reason to believe were true.

  Inside her house she signaled for him to go upstairs to her bedroom as she checked on her father who was asleep on the recliner in front of the glowing television. Her father lay with his head turned at odd angle, an open bag of chips at his side and an open beer on the table nearby. He smelled of cheap booze and cologne. His hair was disheveled and he snored. She took a blanket from the couch and placed it over as much of his body as she could without waking him. She turned the television down a little so that it wouldn’t bother her upstairs when she went to bed.

  If he didn’t die, she thought, then he’d be awake in a five or six hours to go make all the baked goods for the store. If he didn’t die, she thought, it would all happen again. She sighed and went to the kitchen where she retrieved a pizza box of leftovers from the refrigerator and two cans of root beer that she took with her upstairs. For a moment before she pushed open her bedroom door she thought about the few nights her and Kevin had spent together as friends in junior high and high school. It was like those nights all over again. Her father didn’t have a problem with him, with them, once he figured out Kevin was gay and harmless. She pushed open the door.

  Kevin stood at one of her bookshelves running his finger along the tops of the books there quietly assessing her collection. They were in alphabetical order and many of them looked half new, even a few duplicates, though almost every paperback had a broken spine. It looked like she had every book by every pop author for the last two decades as well as just about everyone from the English canon. He knew most of the new books were from her relatives, aunts and uncles who bought them as Christmas gifts which is how she ended up with two copies but it looked like she had started buying her own.

  “That’s a lot of books,” he said.

  “Thanks,” she said. “I picked a few at the last library sale and I found this thrift store over in Renton that sells books. I think people give them books when people die. I found this whole collection of gay and lesbian themed books last week.”

  “Really around here?”

  “Yes, gay people live around here too,” she said.

  “No, of course, I mean look at who you’re talking too,” he said.

  “I was being sarcastic,” she said.

  “Right,” he said.

  “Come over here and have some pizza,” she said.

  Kevin walked to the bed where she opened the box and held out a can of root beer. He took the can and opened it, took a slice of pizza and bit off some. He chewed slowly and put the slice down on the open lid. He sipped from the can and got up from the bed, walked back to the books. Heather was less polite, less reserved. She picked up a piece and began to eat it voraciously as she opened the can of root beer with her other hand in a style much like her father.

  “So, Simon,” he said, “how weird is that? I mean I thought he’d have left town or something. Or maybe we hear about him in thirty years and he has a collection of bones in his house. You’ve heard the rumors.”

  “They’re just rumors,” she said.

  “His father disappeared and his mother... she was suspected in the death of who knows how many old people. People call her an Angel of Mercy behind her back.”

  “He seemed so shy.”

  “What did you make of his friend?”

  “Yeah, who the hell was that? He was cute for sure, and I think a bit gay.”

  “You don’t know that,” she said.

  “Oh, I have my suspicions. I think we were cruising each other.”

  “Yeah right,” she said.

  “It happens all the time. It’s a look. He had it.”

  “So do you think Simon is gay?”

  “And maybe he took up a lover after spending all that time at home with his mother? That would be too easy. No, Simon doesn’t seem gay.”

  “How the hell would you know?”

  “My gaydar is perfect. He’s a bit creepy, shy maybe, and I’m sure people assume he’s gay but he’s not.”

  “You’re just making this up,” she said.

  “Maybe, but it’s true. But who do you think this stranger is?”

  “He said his name is Conrad. Maybe he’s a graduate from somewhere around here or maybe he goes to college.”

  “Why were they together?”

  “Well, maybe he’s renting a room. He lives in that big, old house, and times are tough.”

  “Who would move here?”

  “Maybe a psycho killer,” she said.

  Kevin looked to her and laughed.

  “That’s very good, two murderers living together,” he said.

  “He’s not a murderer. He just stabbed a guy,” she said.

  “Lucy Kleinman’s older brother, stabbed him in his own front yard.”

  “Do you remember that? God, that was such big news when it happened. He went to jail right? He was gone for a few years. I remember there were all these write ups about how her brother was such a good guy and Simon was from a troubled home.”

  “We were like eleven at the time. I remember there was something about his father just leaving one day. He’s a few years older than us. He’s got to be like twenty something now, maybe like twenty-two or twenty-three. How old do you think that guy is? He looked about the same age or younger.”

  “Trying to figure out if he’s dateable? He’s a bit young in that case.”

  Kevin made his way back to the bed. He sat and picked up his piece of pizza. He took a bite and chewed slowly, drank some pop.

  “Sorry,” she said.

  “Don’t worry about it, it’s just, you still can’t say anything.”

  “You haven’t even told me his name, although I have a few ideas about who it is.”

  “No one can know,” he said.

  She picked up a second piece of pizza and he finished the rest of his piece. She moved on to another and so did he. They ate in silence for a long time until Kevin moaned and rubbed at his stomach. She looked at the clock. She had a feeling about what would happen next, about how he would get out of this, fake it, and have to leave. Would he do it here or at home?

  “I feel so bloated,” he said. “I need to go use the restroom.”

  He got up from the bed and she wanted to stop him. She wanted to grab his arm, hold him there, maybe even
cuddle together on the bed until he had no choice but to digest everything he had eaten. She wanted to keep him safe but she knew it was useless so she didn’t even try. She watched as he walked from the room, closed the door, and made his way to the bathroom. She reclined on her bed into her collection of pillows and stuffed animals. She could imagine him in the bathroom vomiting everything back up. Pizza was the worst.

  But she pushed the idea away and tried to think about something else. She thought back to Simon Winters and Conrad who had come into her coffee shop. She thought about them sitting together and the way Simon looked bothered by the whole thing, the way he sat playing with the sugar packets, his mustache and his hair that had grown too long. He was cute in a certain way, maybe if he lost the mustache, got a haircut. What am I doing? He’s a pariah. He had stabbed Josh Kleinman, she thought, even though he is one of the biggest hypocrites in town it wasn’t right. She had read the articles no one else seemed to have read, the ones about how Josh had thrown eggs and harassed him. It wasn’t simple, she told herself, there was something there.

  Her thoughts were broke up by the sound of Kevin approaching down the hallway. He pushed open her bedroom door, a forced smile on his face. She had seen that look before and she knew he was recovering from having vomited everything up. Had he gotten better or did she feel complicit? She raised a hand of protest but he was quicker. He moved to her and gave her a hug, told her he felt better but he had to be getting back home. She let him go and he double checked that he had everything in his pockets before he headed for the bedroom door. She watched him leave and fell back onto her bed. She closed her eyes and wished it away for a moment before she got up, retrieved her Tarot cards and went back to her bed where she prepared for another reading.

  Chapter 07 - Explorer

  Days later Heather found herself still thinking about Simon, the lonesome and troubled young man dragged along to her coffee shop, another lonesome soul in this unforgiving town and she decided to close down for a few hours between lunch and dinner for her own personal errand. She walked across town to the Winter’s estate, the mailbox and drive much like she had seen it any time she had passed by but she didn’t stop there or keep walking. She walked up the long path to the house, a small mansion secluded by acres of land and dense woods. The place seemed too large for a young man, his mother, and now a stranger.