by J D Spero
“I dunno, D. I’m no freakin’ psychic or whatchamacallit. Probably hormones anyway.”
Ty’s problem had nothing to do with hormones. But Derek found himself nodding.
“Yeah, fine,” Pop said. “Ty can help out for the summer. Minimum wage, though. He gets no more.”
“Thanks, Pop.” Derek sighed. Ty was not his problem to fix. Getting him a job would be a help, maybe. Nudge him into reality a little more.
He tossed his empty into the slop sink and grabbed the mop, his steps lighter. He’d be done in a jiffy. Soon, he wouldn’t have to do it at all.
Pop’s belch echoed across the empty diner. “Hey, remember, D. You gotta make a run for me on Thursday. They expect you in Rensselaer eight pm sharp.”
“I know. I won’t forget.”
“Grab me another one?” he called from his seat.
Derek was on his own, again, to close the place. “Sure thing.” Drink up, Pop. I got this.
It was already happening. He could feel the transfer of power. The diner was as good as his.
Ty was psyched when Derek asked for company on the drive down to Rensselaer. Motion was good. Sitting in Derek’s truck was good. Ty zoned in on the tactile stuff. The seat’s hard, cool leather through his T-shirt, the carpeted steel beneath his Chucks, the vibration of the wheels against the highway.
He didn’t care how far it was. Or why they had to go there. Something about an errand for Leon. It was a Thursday night. They’d be back late. He’d coast through tomorrow. One more day until the weekend. Sleep was overrated anyway.
Their favorite station played Guns N’ Roses, Pearl Jam. Good stuff. One song after the next, Ty rocked against the passenger seat, eyes closed, living in the music.
Less than an hour into the trip, the car radio went to static. No reception.
“Ack.” Derek shoved it off with his fist.
Silence was no good. Ty felt the passenger seat close in around him. Out the window, the trees blurred into what looked like wet sand at low tide. Tidal tracks. Like a wet giant’s claw marks. Tearing long divots in the grainy earth.
He held his breath.
They were just trees.
The tree line broke and the nearly-full moon blazed against the darkening sky. It was dusk—a dangerous time. Ty’s chest tightened as a face appeared in the moon. Laughing with a gaping smile. Squinting eyes darting at him. Ty cracked his knuckles. The sound was huge.
“Man on the moon,” he mumbled.
Derek didn’t hear. He smacked the dash. Ty jumped.
“So, I got it all set up,” Derek said, businesslike. “You’ll start at the diner in June. Closing shift.”
“Why?”
“You want to mow lawns all summer again?”
“No. Why June?”
“That’s when school’s out, nerd.”
“Why can’t I start now?”
Derek shrugged. “Guess you could. Long as Marcella don’t mind you workin’ late.” He lit another cigarette. Offered one to Ty. Sulfur from the match filled the car. In the next moment, the driver’s side window was open. White noise and wind swirled in his ears. He tried to get the music back, but it was gone. He forced himself to think of something happy, like Roxanne Russo.
“If there was one girl, who would it be?” Ty shouted over the wind.
Derek cranked up the window. Smoke trickled from his upturned lips. “Cindy Crawford.”
“No, dude. Serious. Someone we know.” He took a long drag. It never seemed like enough.
“I dunno.”
Smoke curled, hung in the air. Ty closed his eyes before the smoke grew into something. Count to ten. Open. Deep breath. He focused on the fiery tip of his own cigarette. “What about Roxanne Russo?”
“Been there. Done that.”
A buzz in his ears. He couldn’t have heard right. “What?” The word was a breath.
Smoke was everywhere. His eyes stung. The last bit of daylight outlined the mountains in the distance. Mosquitoes splattered the windshield. Their green, slimy innards smeared against the glass.
Been there? Done that?
Ty trembled. A hot, wet blanket covered his head and shoulders. “What did you say?”
Derek threw out his butt and rolled up his window.
Ty’s fingertips went numb. The hum of the wheels against the pavement ground in his ears.
Splat. Another mosquito. Smeared alive. He could literally feel its pain. Alive one second, dead the next. Guts spilling onto the glass.
Ty’s chest was being pinned. A panic attack?
Been there? Done that?
“What do you mean?” Ty’s voice wavered.
“No big deal, Ty.”
“No big deal?” Ty whined, tearing away from the dead bugs to study Derek’s profile. Partly shadowed, the line of his flat forehead bumped out to a simple nose. His meaty neck gave a false promise of strength. That square under his lip needed grooming. Stubble grew in thick around it, like he was fully a man. He’d gone and left Ty behind.
What did Roxanne see in him?
Fidgety now, Ty felt his virginity stink on him. His vision blurred and his palms got sweaty. “When the hell did this happen?”
Derek cracked his neck, kept checking the rearview as if they were being trailed. Were they? No. The road was dark.
Ty threw out his cigarette, wiped his hands on his jeans. Derek and Roxanne? Together? He didn’t hear right. It didn’t happen. No way did that happen.
“Derek. Tell me. When did you and Roxanne…” He couldn’t even say it.
“It was, ah, I gave her a ride home that night after Don’s party.”
Don’s party. Two weekends ago. Maybe three. Ty remembered that night. She sat next to Ty on the floor. Glazed cranberry nails passing him a joint. That quick, secret smile. Derek wasn’t even in the circle. He didn’t even like her. She didn’t like him. She couldn’t.
Ty swallowed bile. “You didn’t give her a ride home that night. You gave me a ride home, asshole.”
No response. Derek steered with one hand, drummed the stick shift with the other.
“Don’t lie to me.” Ty hated how he sounded. He couldn’t help it. He was drowning in lava.
Derek sighed, annoyed-like. “At the party, she asked me to come by her house after I dropped you off.”
“She did? When? You weren’t even with us.”
“I dunno. She kinda grabbed me on the way to the bathroom.”
“Grabbed you?”
A laugh. “Kinda.”
Ty’s blood boiled. “You’re such a prick. What happened when you got to her house? Weren’t her parents home?”
“She snuck me into her basement.”
Ty’s eyes pinched closed, trapping the heat and the tears and the disturbing images that came rushing at him. It didn’t match up. Roxanne and Derek—their bodies didn’t fit together. That wasn’t how it was supposed to go down. His fleshy lips slobbering all over hers? Disgusting. Gag reflex-worthy. “She musta been totally smashed.”
Derek whapped his chest. “Screw you.”
Anger boiled from the depths of his spine. He snapped, “So you dropped me off and went and porked Roxanne? Just like that?”
No response. Lava was everywhere now. Filling his chest and his ears. He thought he’d explode. He locked his hands together, prayer-like, and squeezed hard.
“Are you guys dating now?” Ty squeezed his eyes shut. His head hinged open. A bug crawled out.
“Dating? Come on. What do you think?”
Ty’s voice was high and whiny and on fire. “Why not, though? Why aren’t you her boyfriend?” He sounded pathetic. Desperate. Jealous. But he couldn’t stop.
Derek shrugged. “Maybe I don’t want to be.”
“Maybe she doesn’t want to be seen with your fat ass.”
“Whatever.” Derek punched the radio dial and a trace of a song came through static. Something Marcella listened to. The unmistakable voice of Annie Lennox.
Derek fumbled with the tuner until it came in clear.
“Didn’t know you liked the Eurythmics.” Ty sneered.
It was quiet for a while before Derek answered. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”
Maybe I don’t want to know you anymore. Ty’s thoughts roared in his mind. He forced his eyes out the window. He needed a serious distraction from the sudden gash in his heart or he might puke all over Derek’s truck. He zoned in on the street signs. Almost there.
It was Ty’s first trip to Rensselaer. It had been eons since he’d been to the tri-city area at all. He’d built it up in his mind, though, as a big metropolis. Weird that it looked like any other northern Adirondack town, aside from the graffiti and traffic and the occasional hobo on the street. But right now he was too pissed at his best friend to care about the tri-city area. It didn’t matter what Rensselaer had to offer. They could be going to Mars for all he cared.
Derek’s truck was poisoning him. He had to get out of the lava. When the truck pulled to a stop, he poured out of the seat. Out of habit, he walked alongside Derek. With each step, though, he fantasized about the different ways he could hurt him. Make him bleed.
They went up the deserted drive that led to a rundown two-story house. The ramshackle house could’ve been in Schroon Lake or Severance or any other upstate town. Broken windows revealed grimy curtains, unhinged gutters hung like broken limbs.
The place looked abandoned.
“No one’s here,” Ty said.
“Shut up.”
Worn wooden steps creaked underfoot to the front door. Four rusty bicycles were stacked against the foundation.
“What’s with the bikes?”
Derek glared before knocking twice, hard. “No license. How you get around?”
They waited. Ty glanced back at the truck. Weighed his options—go back to the lava or stay with his asshole-best-friend?
The front door opened as if by itself. No one was there. Derek stepped in. Ty hesitated.
“Maybe I’ll wait in the truck.”
“Whatever.”
Then Ty was inside too. The house was dark save for a purplish glow coming through a bed sheet tacked to the doorway—a sheet dotted with pink flowers.
“Stay here.” Derek went through the floral bed sheet.
Ty didn’t dare move. The weed smell masked the odor of mildew. Ty’s stomach heaved.
Hurry up, Derek.
Laughter from the kitchen. Ty clenched his teeth to keep from moving. He stared at the flowery bed sheet. Did Roxanne have sheets like that?
“Sit down.” The words vibrated near his left ear. He turned toward them, expecting to see nothing, assuming his mind played another trick. But—holy shit—someone was there. He had a thick beard, though he couldn’t have been older than twenty-five.
“Sit,” he said. This time, Ty had read his lips and knew the guy was real. He palmed his chin, tugged at the fine hairs that grew there.
The man sat on the marshmallow couch. A numbing sensation crept up Ty’s neck, as if both arms had fallen asleep and the tingling traveled up to his brain. He fell into an armchair nearby.
The bearded man didn’t speak as he retrieved a wooden box from under the coffee table. His motions were deliberate and businesslike as two lines of white powder formed on the glass. Ty stared, disbelief starching his eyes. Only when the man cleared his throat, Ty realized he was handing him something.
A pen.
Relief pumped the room like Vegas oxygen. Must have been a trick of light. Those weren’t lines of white powder. That stuff only happened in the movies. It must have been some sort of receipt. While Derek collected the goods for the diner, Ty had to sign for them. That’s it.
Ty nodded, taking the pen in its chopstick position, ready to give his John Hancock.
But the pen was hollow in his hand.
“Hurry up,” the bearded man ordered.
More laughter from the kitchen. The empty pen trembled in Ty’s grip. He glanced at the sheet and its flowers electrified by purple light. He yearned for Derek—his asshole-best-friend—like a child yearned for his momma. At this moment, he didn’t care about whatever happened or didn’t happen with Roxanne Russo. Derek would help him out of this. He’d know what to do.
Sweat trickled near his ear. Deep breath. That mildew smell disappeared. Incense too. He couldn’t smell anything. Like his nose stopped working. The bearded man spoke again. Ty didn’t hear any of it. His ears stopped working too. It didn’t matter. None of it did. Derek and Roxanne, this bearded guy, the white stuff on the table. A weird out-of-body thing happened, like he was floating, watching it all from above. Aha! It was a movie after all. Those were lines of coke. Ty almost laughed. Was this even real?
Dude tapped the table, impatient, and Ty looked over at him again. More closely this time.
Wait. Bearded dude wasn’t a dude, but a bear. A brown bear! His thick, dark beard covered his whole body. He sat upright and talked somehow. Talked nonsense. Bear talk.
Now, Ty couldn’t help laughing.
Okay, Bear. What do you want me to do? Snuff this up my nose? Will that make Bear happy?
“Let’s go,” Bear growled.
Ty understood that. Everything snapped back. Smells were everywhere, suffocating him. No more laughter from behind the flowery sheets. The quiet was loaded. Lava churned in his gut. Everyone waited. Derek was waiting. For him.
“Whatever.” Ty leaned down and sniffed the shit up his nose. Just like he’d seen in the movies.
Thanksgiving 1991
In the backseat, Hen clapped his backpack straps together, excited for the day. Mom finally agreed to take him to see Tyler in jail. She drove while Bernie sat in the passenger seat of her Impala. The air was sharp between them, even though they weren’t talking to each other.
“Can we open the window?”
“It’s only forty degrees outside, Hen,” Mom said. “I’ll turn off the heat.”
“Supposed to get cold this weekend,” Bernie said. “Real cold. They’re talking about snow.”
Mom sighed. “Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve seen snow in November.”
Why did she sound so unhappy? It was Thanksgiving. They were spending it with Tyler. They had turkey subs with cranberry mayo and a jug of apple cider. Mom even bought little napkins printed with horns of plenty.
She seemed sad, but gave him a pep talk. “Let’s stay positive for big brother, okay? Let’s not worry him about anything. Smile. Tell him a joke. What do you say?”
“Okay.”
She parked near the brick building. Hen skipped to the glass doors as if it led to an arcade. Inside, heat hit him like a wave. A door opened down the hall, a swish of movement, shuffling feet. Tyler?
Tyler!
His brother entered a room across the hall without looking at them. He held his hands behind his back.
Officer Clapp, behind him, paused to wink at Hen. His dark sunglasses were propped on his cap, covering the police emblem. Hen shuddered. Seeing Officer Clapp reminded Hen of where they were. He was suddenly afraid of what he might see.
In the small, windowless room, Ty sat at the narrow table chewing on a hangnail. The UFO camera’s red eye lit up, staring him down. He refused to look up. Clapp said he had visitors. It would be Marcella, of course. Still, he held onto a sliver of hope his father would come through the door.
A tap on his shoulder. Ty yelped, his heart racing. What the—?
“Hen?”
“Tyler!” Hen threw his arms around his brother’s neck. Ty unclasped them, removing an albatross.
He blinked at his little brother, a knot forming in his chest. “What are you doing here?”
“Happy Thanksgiving!” Hen sang, smiling big.
“Is Mom here?” Ty craned to see out the opaque window. His heart pounded.
Hen nodded. “We brought turkey subs. And apple cider.”
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Hen’s grin
wouldn’t quit. “I figured it out. I need a bucket. And cat food.”
“Cat food?”
“Tyler! For the trap.”
“What?” Ty went rigid. They were listening. He had to be careful.
“A trap,” Hen called more loudly. “To catch a hedgehog.”
Red eye blinked. They won’t understand. He looked right at it. “He’s just a kid.” Red eye winked out for a long beat. An answer. They were suspicious.
Ty’s voice shook. “Talkin’ ‘bout trappin’ a hedgehog. An animal. Not for mean reasons. For a pet.”
Hen looked up. “Who are you talking to?” He spotted it. “Oh. Hi, there!” He waved both arms.
A flash of red. “Hen, stop it. What are you doing?”
“Saying hello to the camera.”
Sweat broke out. Not good. “No. No camera.” They wouldn’t like this. It was supposed to be hidden. Secret. They’ve been exposed.
“Yeah. Right there.” Hen pointed. He actually pointed at it.
“Stop it. Just stop it.” Ty was scrambling. He had to get Hen out of here before he did more damage.
“Why?” Hen stopped pointing, but he still stared at the red light, which had stopped blinking. It was a solid red. Angry, like a siren.
“Hen, please. You have to leave.”
“Leave? We haven’t even eaten yet. I told you Mom brought turkey subs and apple cider.”
Ty got up—a sudden flash—clanging the table. “Mom? Are you out there?”
Clapp appeared in the doorway. “Easy now, Tyler.”
“Can you get my little brother out of here?”
Clapp looked confused. “Your family is here to visit you.”
“Is my mom out there?” He tried to push past Clapp, which was like trying to push past the Incredible Hulk.
Clapp shoved him back into the room. “Sit down, Tyler. She’s on her way in. Bringing in quite a feast for you.”
Hot tears started. He glanced at the red eye. Still angry. Always on. And there was Hen, staring right at it. “No, no, no.”
“Don’t do anything stupid, now. This is supposed to be a nice, family visit.”
The room was unbearably hot. Ty couldn’t get any air. The red light buzzed. They were really going to let him have it. He had to get out of here. If Hen wouldn’t leave, he’d have to. Desperate, Ty tried to squeeze between Clapp’s shoulder and the doorframe.
