by Rae, Nikki
I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t tell them the truth but I can’t lie, either. Both options are too hard and too complicated.
“I’m sorry.” This time, the words don’t leave my mouth, I form them without adding any sound.
“I know you are.” He’s sincere and not sarcastic when he says it now. “I know.”
I sniff.
“So,” he says, finally closing in for a hug. “Just don’t make us worry like that ever again, okay?” He’s crying now too. I can smell the salt and I can feel the warm dampness in the fabric of my shirt.
I nod against him. “Okay,” I whisper.
“It’s a good thing we love you so much,” Boo says once we’ve stopped crying, the yelling and anger gone.”Because we had to make some executive decisions while you were gone.”
I turn to Trei, who’s come back over to us now that it’s safe.
“What kind of executive decisions?” I ask.
“Well, we had to finalize the merch we want to sell,” she explains.
Boo steps away from me so he can grab a box from the corner of the kitchen and set it in front of me. “Go ahead, look.”
I kneel down and peel the cardboard flaps away, the surface like sandpaper against my fingertips. Inside are folded black and white T-shirts, and tucked in next to them, hard plastic CD cases.
“This is our merch?” I ask. “I thought we had more time to think about what we wanted to sell.”
I’m more comfortable now, talking about band things instead of my life, which has become even more separated from my friends than before.
“Just look at it,” Boo says.
I take out a shirt first. Printed on the front are black outlines of a piano, violin, and drum kit with the words “We like to play” below it. When I flip the shirt over, all of the instruments are smashed and destroyed with the word “Hard.” Under them. The band’s name runs across the top in old script-like letters: An Anachronism.
When I unfold a black T-shirt, the design is the same, except it’s in white.
The CD cases have the same design as the front of them.
All of this is overwhelming but my eyes keep getting caught on our name. The name we took so long to think of, the one we finally all agreed fit our band’s sound the best. We were in Boo and Trei’s house. Then we became a real band. This is what I’ve wanted since I was little. I never imagined it would get this far, or work out this well, despite the roadblocks and non-band related problems. Part of me is so happy that I can barely contain myself. The other half is terrified of what might happen and if it’s going to affect not only my relationship with the band, but the only friends I’ve had in my life.
“You guys, this is amazing.”
“No, no, no,” Trei corrects. “You haven’t even heard the most amazing part yet.”
I finally look up from all of the things with our name on it and both of them are smiling at me.
“What do you mean?”
“Sophie,” she says. “We’re going on tour.”
My eyes shift from her to Boo and they both stare at me like their eyeballs are about to pop out of their heads.
“When...” I have to steady myself. Tour means leaving. Tour means Michael might find me. Us. I haven’t even been able to process that he might still want to kill me, maybe even more so now that I’ve turned, but here it is now, and I have to hide it from two of the most important people in my life. I don’t know why, but keeping things from them now is somehow different than when I was keeping my personal past from them before. This time, they could get hurt too. Like Stevie did.
I swallow, hoping it’ll clear the lump in my throat and distract me from my thoughts. “When did this happen?”
They don’t notice my internal struggle. “About a week ago,” Trei says. “Manny came up to us and asked if we would be interested in being their opening band. He wanted to tell you personally,” she pauses. “But...you know.”
“I–” Words fail, breaking apart in my mouth.
Fortunately, my friends don’t expect me to say anything else. They embrace me in a heap of hugs again. I can’t breathe for more than one reason.
I’m happy but I’m more scared shitless than anything else. About touring, being a real band, about Michael and what will happen if he finds me.
And I will.
I hear it as if he were in the room with us. It makes my entire body tense up. Was it real? Did I just really hear his voice in my head or did I imagine it?
“You okay?” Trei asks.
I realize that one of them has said something to me but I missed it. “Sorry, what?”
“I said,” Boo slows down his speech. “You look tired.”
“Yeah,” Trei agrees. She comes closer and places an arm behind my back. I can feel how bony her wrist is through my trench coat. “You sure you’re okay now? We don’t want you to feel obligated to do something with the band if you’re not ready to go back to work.”
Boo’s serious again. “Right,” he says. “It’s been hard, real hard on everyone.”
“So if you don’t think you can do it,” Trei says, “We’ll understand. There’s always next summer.”
Not for you.
This time, it sounds like the voice comes from right behind me and I turn my head away from my friends just to make sure he’s not there. There’s no one, just the couch with folded laundry on it. When I turn back to Boo and Trei, they’re staring at me, concern written in their expressions. “Of course I want to tour!” I hope it sounds as sincere and excited as I meant for it to be.
“Okay,” Trei says. “Well, we leave on Sunday, so you need to go to Midnight and fill out some paperwork before then.”
“What day is it?” I blurt.
Boo rolls his eyes and I’m thankful he’s annoyed and not worried. “Tuesday,” he says. “You have some time.”
Not much. Michael’s voice echoes in the back of my mind.
“Paperwork?” I ask to distract myself.
“Yeah,” Boo says, waving a dismissive hand. “You know...in case we get hurt or die on the tour we can’t sue the club.”
I know he’s joking, but it’s really hard to laugh. “Okay,” I say after a few seconds of awkward silence. “I’ll get on it.”
I turn on my heel to leave when I don’t really want to. I haven’t seen my two best friends in weeks. If I stay, they’ll want to talk about where I was and what was wrong and I can’t handle that.
“Well, I’ve got some stuff to take care of, I guess,” I say. “You want to hang out later maybe?” I start to inch back to the door.
“Yeah,” Boo says. “We could watch movies. Get some pizza. Like old times.”
Just like old times, only now everything’s different. “I’ll text you,” I say. They both smile as I leave, like there’s nothing out of the ordinary at all, like there’s nothing different about me, like the monsters aren’t about to come out from under the bed.
Chapter 5
Caught Up
“Hear my voice, it’s saying something and I hope you’re concentrating.”–The Talking Heads
As soon as I’m back at my apartment, Jade wastes no time in jumping in with the questions. Fortunately, none of them concern my new life.
He’s lying on the couch, a lime green pillow clutched to his chest. When he sees me, he sits up slowly, looking like I actually did just wake him up.
“How’s the band?” he asks.
“Okay,” I say. “We’re going on tour, apparently.”
Jade nods like he has to take that in and tries to fix his messy hair with a hand. I sit down at the kitchen counter with my hands holding up my head.
“You have a shit-ton of mail,” he says, sitting next to me. “It was all near the door when I came in. Must have been piling up through the mail slot since you left.”
I glance to my right to the aforementioned pile. I decide to go through it just so my hands and mind have something to do.
“You want cof
fee?” Jade asks, already standing again. Maybe he needs something to do too.
“Yes,” I say without having to think.
I think about telling him how I saw Stevie. How he pushed me through the door and made me come back. But I can’t do that right now. I just came back quite literally from the dead. He’s adjusting to enough already and I can’t pile more onto him right now.
We occupy the same space silently for a while. The only sounds breaking through the quiet are me tearing envelopes open, crumpling junk mail and throwing it in the trash and the coffee maker. Jade hums softly to himself once in a while. The song is disjointed so he must be finishing it in his head. Maybe he’s not even aware that he’s humming out loud at all. But I recognize the song: “No Surprises.”
That’s when I start to concentrate more on opening mail, being extra careful in tearing open the envelopes and slipping the letters back inside before throwing out over half of them.
About midway through the pile, I get to a letter that makes me stop. It has an address that looks familiar, from the same town as mine in New Jersey.
I thought the handwriting reminded me of someone’s I knew before I opened it, but once the actual letter is set free, I wish I hadn’t noticed anything.
I glance up for a split second before deciding if I should really read it or just throw the letter out. Jade has begun cleaning the dishes in my sink, something else he’s using to occupy himself. That’s what this whole mail-opening thing was supposed to be. But here are the thoughts, running over the paper in the familiar scrawl of someone I wanted to forget. Here are the memories, sitting and waiting to be dug up from the words on the page.
I’m reading it before I can stop myself:
Sophie,
I’m sorry I scared you the other night. I didn’t mean to. I know you probably don’t want to talk to me but it’s important that you know some things. I don’t want to do it over phone or letters because someone could find out the information I need to tell you. We need to meet in person in order to do this and I know that’s probably the last thing you want because of what I did and I can’t blame you. But I need to try to set things straight. I’ll be in the Caffiend at five o’clock every day for a week. It’s right near the club you play at, and it’s a really public place and it’s protected...I know what protected means. Trust me; I wouldn’t go anywhere unless it was. So if you get this, just show up. I’ll be there.
-J
Jack. He sent me a goddamn letter. After the whole incident between him and Myles, I thought I would never have to see him again, but here he is, staring me in the face.
“You okay?” Jade asks.
It takes me too long to realize that my hands are crumpling the paper between my fingers. I glance up at him and then throw the letter in the trash.
I have to take a moment to steady myself before I speak. “You’d think after disappearing for more than a few weeks, I’d have more mail than just ads and shit.”
Jade sets my coffee down next to me and I abandon the rest of the mail, figuring one letter is enough to read and I don’t want to have to worry about finding yet another from “J” among the pile, seeing how long ago the first one was dated. Guess I’ll have to change my address or something now.
Jade sits down next to me. “People don’t even send mail anymore,” he’s saying. “It’s all email and Facebook and junk.” He takes a sip of his coffee, which I can smell, strong and bitter as if it were in front of my own nose. “I wouldn’t get too beat up about it.”
“Yeah,” I say, but I can hear how empty it sounds.
“So,” Jade says, either not noticing or not wanting to acknowledge it. “Are you sure you feel up for a tour?” He takes another sip from his cup and I do the same, the caffeine causing these odd pins and needles in my mouth and throat before I taste the coffee. “Like Myles was saying,” Jade says, “being around humans might be hard. And shows have a lot of humans.”
“You’re human,” I say. “And being around you isn’t bothering me.”
I hear Jade take in a deep breath. “This is so fucked up,” he whispers after a minute.
“Yeah.” I take another sip of my coffee. More tingling then nothing. “Why not tour?” This time, my voice comes out sarcastic and I’m glad. “Because that’s what I should be doing right now,” I finish, wrapping my hands around the mug.
When I stare down, I can see each one of my knuckles popping out, even whiter than the pale skin encasing them. The veins in my hands are a dark blue, but when I blink, all of those details are gone and I see my hands the way I’ve always seen them, with human eyes. “It’s not like I should be trying to figure this whole thing out,” I say, twisting my palms slowly around the warm ceramic. “Not like I need to figure my whole relationship out.”
“Sophie?” I hear Jade say it, but only barely.
There’s a loud thumping filling my ears but I hear the mug shatter, feel the burning liquid on my hands as it drips off of the counter but I can’t care about it. That sound. That bump. Bump. Bump.
Jade’s hands are on my arms now and he’s shaking me slightly. “Sophie?” He isn’t screaming, but his voice is strained, as if at any moment he’ll start. “Sophie, look at me.” The words are muffled.
“You can’t hear that?” I practically yell before staring at my hands, which are now red and irritated from the hot coffee.
“Hear what?” I barely hear Jade. “Tell me what you’re hearing. Maybe I can help.”
The backs of my eyes burn. I’m on the verge of crying again; I won’t let that happen. Instead, I start describing every detail to him. The bumping and thumping. How loud it is. How I can’t hear anything else.
“Maybe we should get Myles?” Jade suggests, and I can hear the doubt in his voice. He doesn’t want him here.
I shake my head. I can’t handle that right now either. “I’ll be fine,” I say, finally looking up at him as if to prove it. I take in a deep breath and grab a hold of his hand, squeezing gently.
“Do you remember when we were kids,” Jade says, focusing all of his attention on me. “And I had that pet snake?” I notice that he’s talking a little bit louder for me and the pounding has slowed down a tiny bit, although it’s still just as loud.
I laugh a little but I can’t hear it. I nod. “Sir Pent”
“Right.” Jade tucks some loose hair behind my ear. “Remember how big that thing got?”
“Yeah.” I take a deep breath and push it out. “Huge.”
“And that one day.” The sound isn’t as loud as it was before. I think this is working. “He pushed the lid to his tank open and got out, remember?”
I laugh a little bit more this time. “Mom freaked.”
“Yeah.” Jade scrunches up his nose and tries to do his best Mom impression.”‘I can’t believe there’s actual vermin in this house.’“ He pauses for a second, making sure I’m okay so he can go on. “’A fucking snake isn’t a pet. Normal kids want dogs.’”
I can barely hear the bump-thumping anymore. Now there’s mostly our quiet laughter.
“Didn’t he come back?” I ask.
“He did!” Jade says as if suddenly remembering. “Like, a year later I found him in the backyard, just hanging out.” He laughs almost naturally. “He was so fat.”
Now the sound is completely gone. I can’t hear it at all. “I’m okay,” I say after a few minutes. “I’m okay now.”
Jade doesn’t give me any warning and snatches me up in a hug so tight that it’s hard to break free.
Not that I want to. Not that I ever want to. “You scared me,” he says into my hair. “You sure you’re okay?”
I nod against his chest, which I now realize is where the bumping was coming from, only now it’s a soft, normal sound. Human.
I break free of his embrace and straighten myself out. I take some paper towels and start sopping up the remnants of my coffee and coffee mug. Jade sits back in his stool. I know he’s uneasy, but he’s good at pret
ending he’s fine. He even continues to drink his coffee.
“I have to go to the club,” I announce after a while. “I have to fill out paperwork if I’m going to even attempt going on tour.” I don’t even know if it’s going to be safe or dangerous. Dangerous because of Michael, dangerous because of me.
Instead of questioning it, Jade says, “Then I’ll come with you.” I can’t find it in me to argue and I’m not so sure I want to either. I want him with me. I want someone who knows me–the me I was before all of this happened. Maybe that’ll make it easier once I become someone completely different. Maybe he’ll still recognize me once I’ve started doing vampire things.
“Okay.”
***
“I want you to come on tour with us.” I say when we’re almost to the club. We both decided it was best that Jade drive, not knowing how I’d be on crowded streets so soon. I can’t get over how clean his new car smells. How much smaller it is that his truck that was totaled in the accident. A sharp pang hits me in the ribs if I think about it too long. I also feel guilty for asking him to come on tour. His fiancé is dead. His sister died and came back. He probably hasn’t even been home in the past few weeks. Yet here I am, clinging to him.
“Sure,” he says simply, like there’s no other answer to give.
“I’m sorry.” I feel like I should keep apologizing until there is nothing left of me. “I’m sorry you have to go through this too. You don’t have to come.”
Jade wraps his arm around me. “Of course I’m coming,” he says. “There’s no way I’m staying in Jersey when you’re doing all of these great things.”
The rest of his reasoning hangs between us for the rest of the car ride: In case something bad happens. When we get to the club, Jade holds the door open for me and I push myself inside before I can worry about how many people are there or if the sound of their hearts beating will bother me. It’s dim and it smells like paint and dust, and something else I can’t quite place. Some musty odor that’s so old I’m sure I’m one of the only ones who can smell it.
