Curse: The end has only just begun

by Rich Hayden

  Admitting defeat, the Meteors released their shattered treasure into an uncertain future. Flung from the embrace of certainty, Amil was again left without direction. His bank account was padded by a few game checks and from money he was able to stash during his stint in Triple-A. Some guaranteed cash from defunct endorsement deals would keep him afloat for the time being, but the fact remained, sooner or later, Amil Young would be broke and unqualified to do a damn thing.

  For reasons he did not fully understand, Amil jumped in his truck one night and drove out of Cincinnati as a road map of Pittsburgh lay crinkled on the passenger seat next to him. Due to some poor navigation skills, he was well into his fifth hour of driving before he crossed into the limits of the Steel City. It didn’t much matter. He had nothing else to do, and nowhere else to go. He felt like the eternal traveler. Pushing on, from habit, away from the world he knew, never to reach a destination.

  In a maddening exercise that sent him down a myriad of one-way streets and over bridges whose destinations seemed to be only toward a more fierce set of asphalt puzzles, Amil struggled to find his way around the dark city. But as determined a soul as there had ever been, his goal was fixed on the neighborhood of Aspinwall, and he would indulge no rest until he set his eyes upon that diner on 1st Street.

  Parking his truck in the square which played host to the ephemeral activities of wind and moonlight, Amil glanced into the LED eyes of his stereo. The clock read 4:45am. Totally bereft of human company, he stepped outside and sucked in the chill of the early morning air. It was November, and a light dusting of snow had speckled the town as it slept. He crossed the street and peered into the blackness of the diner. It wouldn’t open until six. Among the blue glow of the moon as it reflects off snow, Amil rubbed his eyes and retreated back to the warmth of his truck. He stared out the fogged window and hoped that the spin of the earth would increase and deliver 6 o’clock just a bit sooner, but, like most uttered prayers, his plea went unnoticed. With the mild vibration of the V8 as it idled, he was lulled to sleep with his face pressed to the tinted glass of the driver’s window.

  The sun of a new day cracked the sky, and, as the sounds of activity and life filled the streets, Amil was jarred from his nap. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and then greeted the cold arrival of the morning. With the sharp air hastening his return to consciousness, Amil pushed his fingers through his hair and did his best to stretch the wrinkles from his clothes. His untied boots pushed their way through another couple inches of fallen snow as he lazily drifted his way to the entrance of the diner.

  He sat himself at the counter, as he had a little more than a year before, and ordered a cup of coffee from a rotund man who appeared quite silently from the kitchen. Dropping lumps of sugar into the minute abyss held within his cup, Amil surveyed his environment. The younger patrons were getting their morning beverages to go, with maybe a scone or muffin as company, while the few older men that were there took to immersing themselves in the day’s paper. Anxiety tumbled Amil’s insides. He felt abandoned by the faculty of focus. A nervous hunger sent tremors to work on his limbs. A trembling hand stirred his coffee to froth, and his appetite betrayed the groans of his stomach, as he ordered nothing more than toast.

  As he nibbled the scorched bread, Amil began to wonder if he had the rotten luck of having popped in on Ali’s day off. The more he thought of it, she probably didn’t work there anymore. He downed four more cups of the burnt blend, ate half a muffin, and felt about as pathetic as any living creature has the capacity to feel.

  As he was about to leave, Amil noticed as someone had sat down beside him. He didn’t bother to look. The small counter was almost full, and there was most likely nowhere else to sit. He pined for the indifferent grip of loneliness, as a disconnecting from the sensibilities of others rooted itself within him. With his eyes fixated on the tan liquid that lay still in his cup, he hoped in desperation that whoever occupied the space next to him wasn’t a chatter. He had no desire for banter, to converse lightly about trivial things destined to be forgotten. The only action left to take was to leave.

  “I know you.”

  To his amazement, Ali had been sitting next to him for at least the last five minutes. He cared so little for the image beside him, before her voice rang out, Amil could only have guessed at the gender of the smear of colors and flesh that occupied the space next to his.

  “So, you do move. I thought you’d never look up,” said Ali in a flat tone.

  “Just a little tired, that’s all.”

  “I’ve read about you.”

  “Yeah? What did ya hear?” asked Amil.

  “A lot...I watched that game. Ya know, the one where you hurt your elbow.”

  “Oh yeah, that game. Almost forgot about that one.” For the better part of a year, Amil had been haunted by thoughts of Ali, and, as she sat next to him, he could do nothing but act like a prick.

  “Why are you here?” Ali asked impatiently.

  “Came back for the coffee.”

  “No you didn’t. It sucks anyway. Really, why are you here?”

  “I don’t really know, to be honest,” Amil quietly said as he turned and faced Ali for the first time. “I guess I just wanted to talk to someone that I could relate to.”

  “Meaning what? You don’t know me. Shit, you’re practically a stalker.”

  “I’ve only come here twice, just once on purpose. I’d have to bother you a bit more before I earn stalker status.”

  Ali remained unamused.

  “Sorry. I just thought we might have something in common. I mean, we’ve both had our dreams taken away from us, and in public, too.” The sentence repeated in Amil’s mind. It echoed with the accompaniment of scorn and judgmental laughter. “I drove all night and slept in my truck just for the chance to talk to you, and now that I’m here, I don’t know what to say.”

  “Me neither.”

  “Fuck it, never mind. Have a nice day,” he grumbled out, and turned away.

  As the diner door closed at his back, Amil stared into the falling snow and felt completely lost. There was plenty in Pittsburgh for a visitor to enjoy, but in that moment, all he wanted to do was to disappear. Oblivion promised to be lonely, but perhaps it wasn’t as cold. As he slid the key into the icy door of his vehicle, a familiar and bitter voice called his name.

  “Hey, that’s not what I meant. I wanna talk, too. I don’t have the words either. Look, I’m about to start my shift. Gimme a call after 6, okay?”Ali slipped him a folded napkin that contained her phone number. Without a smile, she turned away and hurried back to the diner.

  Amil slid into his truck, and the cab held an air of annoyance, a suffocating ambiance of frustration. “What the fuck am I gonna do until 6?” he wondered aloud.

  Born into a speck of a village, Amil was afraid to lose himself in a foreign city, and so he didn’t wander far from the diner. He drove away, and, upon finding a movie theater, he decided to take in a flick. It was an exercise designed only to waste time, and what a waste of minutes it proved to be. The feature was a rather uneventful and clichéd action film. The world was about to end, government conspiracies were abundant, and terrorist groups ruled the day. Enter the conquering hero, unwilling and unwittingly thrown into the fragile plot, only to discover an uncanny knack for saving the day. Bombs went off, cars were chased, and impossible physical stunts were performed. Boredom and stupidity spread their stains over the screen, and Amil left before the credits rolled. He couldn’t sit still, as the flow of time had ground to a halt.

  Finally, after the longest afternoon in the history of the measured day concluded, Amil dialed the numbers that he had since memorized. The third conversation shared between he and Ali went along as awkwardly as the two that had preceded it, but at the end of this massacred version of verbal exchange, they agreed to meet. He picked her up outside the diner and Ali directed the way to her apartment.

  Ali usually walked to work, but as the days were growing colder and n
ight fell early, she savored the chance to have a warm ride home. Once they slipped into her apartment, Amil sat in her cluttered living room and solemnly flipped through The Sporting News as Ali got changed. He had started to read six different stories when she grabbed her coat and motioned for them to leave. It was for the best. Amil had no intention of finishing any of the articles, for their conclusions were assuredly too warm for his jaded heart to take.

  Ali did her makeup in the visor mirror of the truck, and all the while directed Amil to a destination unknown to him. They wove past beautiful homes and discarded houses, all in a period of time that felt impossibly small. After about fifteen quiet minutes had elapsed away, Ali pulled a pink knit cap over her head and slipped on a pair of gloves. She instructed him to park the truck, and soon, he realized why his date had dressed so warmly.

  They got out of the truck and left it to sleep along the street under the shadow of a modest castle. The edifice fascinated Amil, as it stood curiously misplaced in such an urban environment. The pair walked up the quiet and wide promenade which ran through the trendy and eccentric neighborhood of Lawrenceville. Among the chill and the wrap of darkness, Amil still couldn’t unravel his companion’s plan, as not a bar or other such establishment suited to a casual date was within sight.

  “Here, quick, follow me,” instructed Ali, as she started to climb an iron fence that ran the length of the sidewalk.

  “What are you doing?” asked Amil.

  “Just come on, don’t be a fag. Hurry up, before someone sees.”

  Amil took her command, and, as the pair dropped down over the other side of the black bars, they found themselves in Allegheny Cemetery.

  “You took me to a graveyard?” questioned Amil, a bit amused at Ali’s choice of scenery.

  “Is this creepy? It’s a little creepy, isn’t it?”

  “No, not really. It is weird, though. Mostly cold as shit, but a little weird,” he said.

  “Toughen up, southern boy,” Ali said through a laugh.

  “It gets cold in Virginia.”

  “Well it gets colder here, so quit your bitching,” commanded Ali playfully.

  “You could have warned me, ya know.”

  “That would have just spoiled the fun.”

  “So why are we here anyway?” asked Amil.

  “Where else were we gonna go? I have chemical dependency issues, so going to a bar is out. You just saw a shitty movie, so screw that, and I work with food all day. Sorry...I hope you ate already.”

  “I haven’t had much of an appetite today, but now that you mention it.”

  “Here, eat this,” offered Ali, as she pulled a Snickers bar from her purse.

  “So, back to my original question, why are we here?” asked Amil again, through a filter of peanuts and nougat.

  “Because if you go to Pittsburgh, Allegheny Cemetery is one of the places you have to visit.”

  “We have dead people in Virginia, too.”

  “Don’t be a smartass. This is one of the largest cemeteries in the state. Josh Gibson is buried here, Steven Foster, too,” said Ali.

  “Who’s he?”

  “He was a musician...never mind, he’s dead. Who cares?”

  Amil laughed at Ali’s comment and the general circumstances of the situation. They continued to talk, a bit more leisurely, as they paced slowly under the starlit sky. Snowflakes drifted down upon them, and the glow of moonlight bounced off the graves. They must have walked for miles, passing sophisticated mausoleums, unique tombs, and graves so insignificant and small they were barely noticeable. As they started to retrace their route and the ghosts of the footprints left before, Amil softly took Ali by her gloved hand.

  “Is it safe here?” he asked, a little intimidated by the urban setting that towered beyond the gates.

  “You scared?”

  “No, I was just asking.”

  “Well, I suppose it can be a little dangerous, but I don’t usually come down here after dark.”

  “You talk funny,” stated Amil, as he found her accent endearing.

  “Me?” questioned Ali, equally amused.

  “Yeah, okay,” he conceded.

  “So, you come here a lot. What for?” he continued.

  “I like to be alone. I don’t have many friends, and even when I did, I just did a bunch of drugs and a lot of other shit I’m not proud of. I’m able to think here. You don’t get bothered, and even when someone else passes by, they never say anything.”

  “Then why did you agree to hang out with me?” he asked.

  “Because of what you said this morning. We don’t really know each other, but I feel like you can understand me. Besides, every time you looked at me today, not once did you look at my scar. Most people don’t do that.”

  “I was happy when you showed up this morning, scars and all,” he said.

  “You wanna go back to my place?” Ali asked, and then hesitated. “Don’t get excited, nothing’s gonna happen.”

  “Okay,” Amil said, with a laugh. Coming from anyone else, the comment would have made him uncomfortable, but from Ali, it just sounded natural. Then again, she had taken him to an outdoor party in mid-November with 150,000 of her closest friends.

  Back at her apartment, Ali made some grilled cheese sandwiches and brewed a pot of coffee, of all things. The pair sat closely on the couch and watched infomercials for some of the most bizarre garbage ever conceived. Her cat slept in her lap, but was often disturbed as Ali and Amil giggled wearily at the ridiculous contraptions being pitched by the television. As the sun was soon to rise, it became clear that their time together had reached its end.

  “What happens now?” questioned Ali as Amil rounded up his things.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t thought of next very often over the past year.”

  “Well, do you wanna see me again?” she asked.

  “Yeah, of course I do. I had a lot of fun tonight. It’s just gonna be hard because of the distance.”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m kinda relieved that we live far apart. I don’t know if I’m cut out to handle anything more substantial than a long-distance thing.”

  “I guess we’ll find out. See ya around,” said Amil quietly, as he left the apartment.

  Over the course of the next few months, Amil and Ali developed something which came to resemble a genuine relationship. Every weekend he would make the long trip to Pittsburgh to be with her, and the couple came to enjoy each other’s company more and more with each visit. They had a bona fide first date, and did things that most couples do in the early stages of any relationship. They visited some of the local museums, checked out a few movies, and walked around an art gallery or two. They went to an exhibit on Greco-Roman technology at the Carnegie Science Center, blew some money at the casino, and ate at countless restaurants of every description. Ali scored a couple of outrageously priced Steelers tickets, and as they sat in the crowded, frozen confines of Heinz Field, Amil desperately strained to understand the joy of attending an outdoor football game in January.

  It seemed as though the young couple had managed to do a great many things during a relatively short period of time, considering that they usually only saw each other for two days out of every week. In fact, about the only activity they had failed to do was to have sex. They made out and pawed at one another. It was common for Ali to fall asleep on the couch with her head in Amil’s lap as they snuggled in front of the TV. They would always sleep together in Ali’s bed, but a twitchy repose brought on by strange dreams was the rowdiest activity that the mattress hosted.

  “Are we ever gonna have sex, Ali?” questioned Amil on a frigid morning in February.

  “Maybe. Yeah, probably one day I figure that’ll happen,” Ali answered easily.

  “I’m serious.”

  “Is it a problem?”

  “Well, no, I guess. I just wanna know where we’re at. I wanna know where this is going,” he said.

  “Let me tell ya something a
bout me.”

  “Here goes...” Amil joked.

  “Since the time I was 15, I fucked about every boy I ever dated within the first week. Shit, some nights I’d just get drunk and bang a random dude. And, oh yeah, the last boyfriend I had made me do porn...wow, you’ve probably even seen it, haven’t you?” questioned Ali, as she began to chew her nails.

  “Ali...I’m not like those other guys,” whispered Amil.

  “Yeah, I know, dumbass, that’s why I’m still with you. The point is that every relationship I’ve had has been based on sex. It holds a lot of bad memories for me. I mean, for fuck’s sake, my Dad doesn’t even acknowledge I exist ’cause I’ve been such a slut. So maybe you can dig why I’m a little apprehensive?”

  “It just doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”

  “I know. I just don’t want you to be another guy on my list that I don’t speak to anymore...I love you, Amil. And you better feel lucky for it, ’cause that’s not something I’ve said very often,” she instructed curtly, with a sniffle.

  “I love you too, Ali. I’ll never hurt you,” he said as he wrapped her up in his arms.

  “Promise?”

  “Yeah, I promise.”

  “Good, because if I don’t get laid soon, I’m gonna end up in the nuthouse,” said Ali.

  Spring arrived. The last heaps of dirtied snow melted away, and the white hue of pulverized salt finally disappeared from the surface of the roads. Amil left Cincinnati behind for good, and, in doing so, he closed the book on his career in professional sports. He and Ali moved a few addresses down to a slightly more spacious apartment on Middle Street. With the last of the cash left over from his impossibly short stint as a Major League pitcher, Amil made the space they shared quite cozy with a full set of new furnishings. He bought Ali a car. It wasn’t new, but it beat the hell out of riding the bus every day or walking through the mercurial Pittsburgh weather.