by P. J. Post
Peggy answers the phone. “Hello…Oh…” She shakes her head at us and covers the phone. “It’s Carla.”
I listen closely.
“No… What did she say?.. Yeah, I’m worried too… You think so?.. I’ll tell him… Yeah, I know he’s in love with her…” Peggy winks at me.
What the hell? Does everyone know?
Todd sees her wink at me, and looks back and forth from me to Peggy, confused.
Peggy continues talking, “Where was she flying to?... You do?... Thanks… It is an emergency…” Peggy grabs a pen out of a Godfather’s Pizza cup on the table and writes a number on the wall above the phone. “Give me your number too.” Peggy writes Carla’s number on the wall above the other one. “I will and you do the same. Thanks. Bye.”
“So?” I ask.
“She said Tonya called her this morning and they met at Tonya’s parent’s place. Carla took her to the airport, but Tonya wouldn’t say where she was going. We said we’d call each other if we hear anything.”
“This is weird,” Todd says with concern, like he’s trying to sort out a puzzle.
“Carla was really worried. Tonya swore her to secrecy, but Carla was too freaked out not to tell anyone. She thinks Tonya’s in trouble,” Peggy says as she slips her hands into her back pockets.
I’m not sure what to think. “Where’s the number to?”
“I don’t recognize the area code,” she says and then she shrugs as she picks the phone back up and calls the number.
She listens and then hangs up.
“What?” I ask.
“It was an answering machine. It said something about fun in the sun.”
“She’s in Boca with her brother,” I say.
“How do you know?” Todd asks.
“I overheard them talking a couple of weeks ago. He’s house sitting for someone down there. Fun in the sun, that must be it,” I say.
“So what now?” Todd asks.
“Let’s give her a couple of days and then I’ll call her,” I say.
“Carla said you should call soon. She specifically said that you should call.”
Todd leans forward with a confused look, but sounds accusatory. “Hang on a second. What’s really going on?”
Peggy looks at me questioningly.
I grind my smoke out and light another and start pacing.
Todd’s face gets sterner. “Peg, on the phone, who was Carla talking about? She said someone loves someone. She must have been talking about Tonya, right? So who’s in love with her?” He glares at me.
He’s figured it out.
“I’m in love with Tonya,” I say softly. I’ve said it so many times to myself that it sounds weird to hear it out loud like this.
“Did you fuck her? Is that it? What did you fucking do to her? If you hurt her, I’ll fucking kill you, man!” Todd jumps to his feet, seething with sudden fury.
Peggy is quick to rush over and takes his face in her hands. He’s pissed and tries to jerk away. “Baby,” she coos, “baby, Connor would never hurt her, you know that.”
He ignores her, but she shifts around to look into his eyes and finally gets his attention.
“It’s not like that,” she says soothingly. “It’s complicated, but Connor didn’t do anything wrong.”
“If he was fucking around…”
Peggy raises her voice slightly. “He wasn’t, okay? We don’t know why she left. That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”
Todd sits back down on the couch, looking only slightly less irritated and Peggy slides in next to him.
“Connor and Tonya only went out once. He loves her, not the other way around. Got it?” she asks.
“Oh — oh, okay.” Then Todd looks at me and understanding settles over him and his face softens. “Shit, dude. She’s been dating Trevor. Sorry, man. You okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll live. But as long as we’re on the subject, you want to hear the fucked up part?” I ask.
He nods and Peggy shakes her head.
“Remember the whole mystery girl thing? My fantasy girl?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“That’s her.”
“That’s who?” he asks.
“Connor,” Peggy cautions.
“It doesn’t fucking matter now, Peg. It’s Tonya,” I say.
“Tonya’s not rich, she’s down and ugly punk. How is she your rich fantasy girl? You’re high, dude,” he says, dismissing the revelation.
“No, it’s her, dude, it is. She’s the girl I met two years ago, but her real name isn’t Tonya, it’s Bethany — Bethany Warner,” I say. It feels good to get rid of these secrets. I feel lighter, even though it’s meaningless now.
“Wait, no shit? All this time, Tonya was that girl?” he asks in surprise.
“Yep. I remembered everything a couple of weeks ago. But I was afraid to say anything.” I glance at Peggy and she looks sad for me.
She pushes off of Todd, stands and walks over and hugs me.
“So what if she doesn’t come back?” Todd asks. “What about the band?”
“Then I’m fucked, you’re fucked and the band is fucked,” I say.
“Shit, dude,” Todd says in disbelief.
“Tell me about it,” I confirm.
“She didn’t say anything? I mean nothing; she left, just like that?” he asks.
I nod. It’s always just-like-that when I lose shit. Only this time, I feel like I got lost along the way too and I'm not sure I’m able to find my way back.
§§§§§
Todd and Peggy manage to get me drunk, which only makes the pain sharper. But alcohol brings out the morbid gallows humor in me, so it’s easier to joke about it. I tell them to sleep in Beth’s room. They might as well. Besides, I don’t want to be alone, even if they are upstairs, that’s better than solitude.
Fuck, I’m pathetic.
Fortunately, I pass out early in the evening and don’t have to listen to them have sex until they wake me the next morning.
Thanks, guys.
I walk up the stairs, only absently aware of Todd going down on her. She winks at me. “Good morning.”
Todd pokes his head out from under the covers and grins.
I wave and then go to the bathroom.
I take a piss while I stare at myself in the mirror. I look like hell.
I wash my face and then knock on the door to announce myself as I walk back into the bedroom.
They are sitting up in bed, Peggy smoking. “Want to get some breakfast?”
I walk over and take the cigarette from her and take a drag. “Why not?”
11
Shit Gone Wrong
By Friday night, I’m going stir crazy and have to get out. I’ve called Boca several times and left messages. I’m sick to death of that fucking fun in the sun recording. But Beth hasn’t called back and I haven’t left the Garage all week, just in case she does.
I’ve been an emotional pinball, bouncing from love to anger to dismay to depression to contempt and back to love again. But I’m finally beginning to accept the reality of the situation with Beth. She’s never going to love me, she’s gone and she’s not coming back, the band has to start over and that’s fucking that. The anxiety isn’t quite as bad as it was, but sleep would still be nearly impossible without the tequila.
But then I just wake up again and the whole goddamn cycle starts over.
Love is an insidious disease.
I’m not sure what to do about the Garage, but I know I need to find a new place to live. I just need to get my gear and lock the doors one last time and walk away.
Todd and Peggy suggested we all rent a house and while I’m not crazy about the idea, it makes sense for all of us. Peggy no longer has a job because Todd’s adamant about her not going back to stripping. I can’t say I blame him on that score.
But I think Peggy is flourishing under Todd’s love, so she’s not fighting him on it. I know she’s had boyfriends over the years, she’s too beauti
ful to not have had guys throwing themselves at her, but I think Todd is the first guy that really loves her.
It’s only been a week or so for them, but when it’s right, it’s fucking right. As shitty as they make me feel, constantly reminding me of Beth and how I feel about her, I’ve decided not to kill them in their sleep — at least for as long as they keep me stocked with Jose Cuervo. But even then, it’s fucking hard. I think I get the Romeo and Juliet thing now, not the suicide part, just the understanding of how deep love can be. Well, I know how it works from one side anyway.
Fuck it.
I’ve cleaned up and put on my best worn out clothes and am waiting for Todd and Peggy to come downstairs.
“It’s fine,” I hear her say.
“No, it’s not,” Todd says, following me down the stairs in his usual overalls.
“What’s not fine?” I ask.
“Peggy here wants to go back to Sweet’s, by herself mind you, to pick up her last paycheck and say goodbye to everyone,” Todd says.
She steps into the main room wearing jeans, a baggy shirt and sneakers. She’s not wearing any makeup and her hair is pulled back with a banana clip. She looks about as plain as she is capable of looking. That was a thoughtful touch for Todd’s anxiety.
I wince just the same. “Sounds like a bad idea. I agree with Todd. We should go with you.”
“Don’t be stupid. I’ve been working there for the last year. I think I can manage one night. I’ll be back by ten, Dad.”
“But you quit kind of suddenly,” I say.
“I already talked to Curly, he’s fine.”
“Who’s Curly?” Todd asks.
She turns and says, “He’s the owner. It’s totally cool, okay?”
I shake my head. “I’m voting no.”
Peggy stops by the front door and leans against it, one hand on the handle. “You two,” she says, pointing at us, “don’t get to vote on what I do.”
“But Peggy…” Todd starts again.
“Look, you just saved me from one controlling bastard, are you trying to take his place?” she asks.
Fucking ouch.
Todd shoves his hands into the sides of his overalls and walks over to her. He stands really close and leans over and kisses her softly, like those kids in a Norman Rockwell painting.
“Be very, very, very careful, okay?” he admonishes.
She lets go of the handle and wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him. She lets go and he steps back as she opens the door. Todd hands her a spare key to the front door and she slips it into her pocket.
She waves as she walks out to her Z. “I’ll be waiting for you guys when you get back. Have fun.”
Todd turns back to me. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” I say.
“Should we, like, follow her?” he asks.
“Do you love her?”
“Yeah, fuck yeah, I do.”
“Want to lose her?” I ask.
“No, man, no. Why would you even ask that?”
“Because if you follow her, she’ll never trust you again and — poof — she’ll be gone.”
“Think so?” he says with concern, rubbing his chin.
“I know so.”
§§§§§
Todd turns his Nova onto a country section road and gasses it, the tail slides out just like a Steve McQueen movie.
“A short cut?” I ask.
“More or less,” he says through a grin.
We’re running down to Norman to check out a few local bands at a dive bar just off campus called The Crucible. It’s got that punk vibe like The Underground, but it’s much smaller. Lots of the new Indie label bands play there and it’s getting a pretty good reputation. We never know who is going to be there and in this business it’s all about who you know. If we’re going to take this band to the next level, we’re going to need more contacts.
And a new a singer.
A chick singer.
A chick singer with an amazing stage presence, and the talent to scream and sing like a goddamn angel.
We’ve given up on Tonya and have decided to poach a new singer, rather than have auditions. We’ve managed to build up enough of a name for our band around the state that we might get lucky. If Tonya shows up for the fall, great, but we’re not holding our breath.
I’m just kind of numb about her leaving. The only way to deal with it and have a reason to get off the fucking couch is to focus on the band.
“What if we can’t find someone like her?” Todd asks.
“I’m more worried about someone else singing her lyrics. That just sounds wrong to me,” I say.
“Maybe we do something different then. How about we sing or get a guy to sing and write new songs?”
“You mean start over basically. In the end, it might not be a bad idea. Besides, I’m having a hard enough time dealing with her being gone, I don’t need someone coming in and pretending to be her.”
“Yeah, that makes sense. Sucks, dude. Sorry,” he says quietly.
Todd glances over at me and starts to say something and then stops. And then he says it anyway. “Do you think Peggy is okay? I’m really worried about her.”
“Look, for the twentieth time…”
I start to reassure him that she’s fine and not to worry about her. She’s a big girl after all. I think it, but I’m too distracted by headlights emerging from the tree line off to Todd’s left to say it.
I don’t even get out a warning, and as we hit the intersection the headlights grow larger and brighter surrounding Todd’s concerned silhouette. For the briefest of moments, he looks like one of those paintings of Jesus, his head centered in the halo of one of the headlights.
I see the glass around Todd’s head explode into knife shards, slicing through the car. I see his head twist and his body fly towards me and then I feel the impact.
The Nova stops on a dime and begins to spin as it crumples around the intruding grill. Everything happens in blurry slow motion, sharp and yet, indistinct.
The oncoming headlights have been doused by the impact and the pale blue dashboard lights of the Nova are sparkling off of the glass that is bouncing around inside the car. I see the chrome window trim come loose and stab at us over the steering wheel, and then the windshield buckles and shatters.
I slam up against the door as my body twists and I bend over sideways into the dash. Todd crashes into me and I feel his head ricochet off my shoulder.
The Nova slides across the road, the weight and power of the other car is still accelerating through us. We jerk to a stop for a split second as the Nova violently pushes back and then it lurches over and flips. We’re airborne.
I see Todd drift from his seat, his arms and hands lifting and lifeless through the dash-light glow. I grab onto the side of my seat but my hand is whipped away immediately as I join Todd in a macabre dance like we’re floating in space.
We hit the ground and Todd slams into me hard, both of us collapsing against the passenger door. Pain shoots down my side.
And then we flip again. Glass, car parts and the crap in the floorboards, drive-through burger bags and empty beer cans leap back into the air, spinning and careening off of me and Todd and every other surface inside the car.
We’re going to die.
And then we violently hit the ground again and everything stabs at us as gravity takes control once more.
I don’t want Todd to die. He’s good, really fucking good and he fucking deserves to live.
I hear someone screaming.
God, please don’t let Todd die. I don’t matter, take me and do what you want. Send my ass to Hell, I have nothing and no one to depend on me, but please, let Todd live — he has a family and now, Peggy.
As the Nova’s headlights cast ghostly pirouettes down the road, I realize that I’m the one screaming.
“Todd!” I hear myself scream in one long burst of anger and frustration.
The car
that hit us pursues us like a predator. We slam into the ground again, bouncing and collapsing the shocks and springs. The Nova threatens to flip again, but settles back down on its tires in a gentle rocking motion. We come to rest at an odd angle.
The painful shrieks of twisting steel and breaking glass and plastic have given way to a surreal silence, broken only by the sound of hissing radiators.
I don’t move.
Am I dead?
I open my eyes to see the Nova’s headlights are now shining up through the dust cloud at the treetops that line the road. I shift around and feel the first stabs of pain shoot across my side. It hurts to breathe.
I’m not dead.
My first thought is to check on Todd. He’s fucked up. He’s lying mostly back in his seat unconscious and bleeding from, from fucking everywhere. I noticed that his leg is bleeding the worst, blood gushing out of a wound near his knee.
I reach over to him, trying to ignore the pain and see if he’s alive. I watch him closely and thank God that he’s breathing, shallowly, but still, he’s breathing.
I pull off my belt and fashion a tourniquet above the wound. He’s not going to last until someone finds us.
I try my door handle, but it won’t budge so I groan in agony as I crawl through the open window and collapse onto the dirt and then howl in pain. I look down to see blood covering my shirt and pants. A lot of it is Todd’s, but I also know that some of it is mine. I wonder how much.
I know I’m cut up, but I ignore it, especially the pain coming from my chest. I don’t need to know how bad it is — I can’t know, because I need to get help right the fuck now. I don’t have time for anything else.
I stagger and stumble, trying to get to my feet. The pain is so bad, I’m afraid I’m going to pass out. I lean against the car and throw up, and that hurts far worse than breathing.
The tears come unbidden.
Motherfucker, but it hurts.
I reach down and pull up my shirt. I already know what I’m going to see. I run my hand along the broken ribs, but none of them are actually protruding.
