I did my best to smile, but I'm not sure if I pulled it off. "Yes." That was the first major lie I had ever told Sam and it made me feel guilty. I still felt a little weird—like I was some sort of jig saw puzzle that was missing some of its pieces. Many pieces.
Isn't it normal to throw away a puzzle that has too many pieces missing? Scary thought.
After Sam left, I wrote everything down in my journal. Reliving the incident with my father made me feel better somehow. It distanced me from the whole thing and made me feel like a visitor. It made me feel as if my journal was a work of fiction, that I had merely created this suicidal main character named Harlan Sexton. Somehow I don't think that's a healthy attitude, thinking of yourself as a fictional character. Oh well, whatever works.
After a few hours, Suzanne came into the room carrying a tray. She had made me a cheese omelet and some toast. At first, the very thought of eating made me feel sick, but after a few moments I realized I was famished. Over the last few weeks I had barely eaten anything, surviving mainly on strong coffee and some bagels. Suzanne sat and watched me as I ate, every once in a while offering me an odd smile. I knew she wanted to talk to me and I was glad she waited until I had at least finished eating.
"I just saw your father," she said after I had wiped my mouth and took a sip of the coffee that needed way more sugar. I grimaced. "He has a bandage over the top of his head. It appears that you messed him up pretty good, Harlan. If ever there was a son-of-a-bitch that deserved it, it was him. It's a good thing you didn't kill him, though. They sewed his ear back on."
I put the tray on the bedside table. "That's the scary thing, Suzanne. I was trying to kill him. If he hadn't moved his head he would probably be dead. I lost it last night." I shuddered. "For the first time in my life, I completely lost control. The only thing that I could think of was hurting him."
She put her hand on my leg. It wasn't sexual. We had left that territory now, and we both knew it. "You're welcome to stay here as long as you like. I mean it, too. I'm not going to let you go back home to that monster."
I smiled weakly. "Thanks. If I do have to go back home, I will kill him. I know it."
"I like her."
For a second I had no idea what she was talking about. I looked at her foolishly. "Sam?" I finally asked. "Yeah, she's good to me."
"She really cares about you, Harlan. I could see it in her eyes. I always told myself we would never work in a relationship. Our twenty-year difference would ultimately hurt us. I wanted you to find someone that would care about you in the same way I do. Sam does. I only talked to her for a short while, but I could already see that she was intelligent and confident. All of that and pretty as hell."
I moved closer to her and put my arms around her in a tight embrace. After I squeezed her for a few minutes, I looked into her eyes. "Thank you, Suzanne. Without you in my life these last few years I know I would have fallen apart. You held me together. You've always done this. You're doing it again now. I'll always love you no matter what happens."
"Sometimes right is wrong and wrong is right," she whispered into my ear. I could tell she was crying.
I embraced her. "Fuck it, baby, hold on tight. We going for a ride."
"Fasten your fucking seat belt," she said.
After a few minutes we were laughing uncontrollably. Not because anything was hysterical or anything, but simply because we had each other. It was happy laughter, even if the very term is redundant.
Chapter 13:
Violently Happy
Julian, Vlad, and I were sitting on the hood of Fat Ethel staring at the moonlit surface of Lake Angel. The late November night was turning cold, but it felt good to get some fresh air. Both Sam and Allison were working at the mall. Working at the fucking Gap of all places. Just walking into a store like that makes me want to fall to the floor like a vampire struck by sunlight. Julian was making unpleasant popping noises with his mouth.
I reached over and pushed him. "Do you have to do that? It's annoying as hell."
Julian looked over at me blankly, as if I didn't know what I was talking about. "I was thinking."
"You, Julian Morrissey, thinking?" I said teasingly. "Well I know it was either some masturbatory fantasy or...or some masturbatory fantasy." I looked over at Vlad and saw he was smiling. He had stopped wearing his makeup ever since he had gotten his ass beat. I guess he figured it wasn't worth it.
"You guys are both going to laugh, so I'm not going to tell you," Julian said, sitting up. "Screw both of you."
I sat up too. "I promise you we won't laugh. You agree, Vlad?"
"Not even a titter," Vlad said, pulling his knees to his chest.
Julian glared at us both. "I'm serious now. If either of you laugh I'm taking off and you can both walk the hell home. You hear me?"
"I swear," I said. "Brother Vlad?"
"It takes a hell of a lot to make me laugh," Vlad said. "It has to be some pretty funny shit for me to even smile, I can tell you that. As a rule, angst-ridden and death-obsessed teens like myself and Harlan don't laugh very often."
"Well that's bullshit," Julian said, his eyes darting back and forth at us. "Harlan laughs all the time."
Vlad nodded. "Yes, but Harlan is psychotic. He's only violently happy."
"True. True," I said, nodding somberly as I tried to suppress a smile. I looked over at Vlad. "Although can one truly be violently happy? Isn't that an oxymoron?"
"Sure you can," Vlad said. "For example, look at Alex in A Clockwork Orange. You should know better than anybody, Harlan. It's not like you weren't him for Halloween. Remember that scene where Alex kicks that man to death, all the while singing that song 'Singing in the Rain'. What would you say he was?"
I smiled. "Okay, I'm going to venture a guess here, Vlad. Don't kill me if I'm wrong. Was he violently happy?"
Vlad grinned. "Well, let me ask you this. If you were singing Zippity Doo Dah while you were slamming that iron into the side of your Dad's head would that have made you violently happy?"
I put my fist under my chin and acted like I was thinking up some heavy thoughts. "I like that song, even though I'll deny that if you tell anyone. And I certainly wouldn't be singing it if I was sad. You can't sing a happy song like Zippity Doo Dah whilst you're sad." I snapped my fingers in front of my face like I had discovered the cure for cancer. "Wait a second, what if I did sing that song while I was sad? What if I sang it while I was crying? What would that make me?"
We knew we were talking like complete fucking idiots, but the look on Julian's face was truly priceless.
Vlad looked at me with mock seriousness.. I could see he was fighting hard not to break out in hysterics. "I'd have to say the act of singing the song would instantly cheer you up." He snapped his fingers in front of his face the same way that I had. "Wait a second! What if you were crying, singing Zippity Doo Dah and slamming the iron down into your Dad's head? That would make you violently happy-sad."
"No," I said. "Then I would simply just be psychotic."
We both broke down into helpless laughter.
"You guys are both dicks," Julian said, not joining in. "That had to be the stupidest conversation that I have ever heard. I feel like an idiot just for sitting there and listening to it. I think I just lost fucking brain cells. I feel like I'm in the third grade. Or living in a group home listening to two of my housemates talk."
His last statement only made us laugh harder. After a few minutes, we began to calm down.
"You guy's done now?" Julian asked, lying back and looking up at the stars.
"All right, Julian," I said, settling down against the cool windshield. "What's on your mind?"
"Do you believe in God?" Julian said, staring off into the infinite stars.
I sighed. I hated talking about religion. It always left me feeling tired and confused. "I believe in God, yes."
"God rides the same boat as Santa Claus in my mind," Vlad said, rubbing his hands together for warmth.
"When I
was young, I always believed in God," Julian said, seemingly mesmerized by the stars. "I always believed if you were a good person then God will protect you. Lately I have to wonder. Look
at you, Harlan. You are probably one of the best people I know, but you've been getting served from the shit pie since the day you were born."
"That's a pretty colorful way to put it," I said, thinking about my life. "I've always believed there is a God. I don't necessarily believe God is good, though. If anything, God is one cruel bastard. I know my life isn't as bad as some. It's more of the overall depression that makes me want to end it all."
"I don't believe God exists at all," Vlad said. "God is just something that people made up to scare people into keeping in line. That and it makes people less afraid of dying if they believe they'll end up in some kind of gold paved heaven."
"That's what really scares me," Julian said. I could see his breath frosting up in the cool air. "The idea God doesn't exist. It's scary to think you die and then there is nothing. Can you handle that, Harlan? I can't. The idea you can kill yourself in a few months, and that's it? No Heaven or Hell? No Purgatory? Harlan Sexton ceases to exist?" He snapped his fingers, mocking the way that both Vlad and I had done only minutes before.
"Sure it scares me," I answered. "But it's also kind of a relief at the same time. To me, death is kind of like sleeping forever. No one will be able to bother or hurt me ever again. I won't have to deal with any problems. In some ways, it's terrifying, but in others it makes me feel good. The idea that I can simply shut everything off and not have to deal is great."
Both of them sat there saying nothing, as if I had said something great and profound. I looked toward the lake and saw fog rolling gently over the calm surface. We stayed there like that in the silence of the night, pondering our futures. Or lack thereof, in my case.
Just a little dark humor for you, Dear Reader.
Chapter 14:
Embrace the Darkness, Harlan
I had the most amazing dream. I heard the music first, a kind of lullaby. I still remember the lyrics perfectly. They went like this:
Sleep, Harlan. Sleep and feel nothing.
Close your eyes, Harlan. Close your eyes and turn off the world.
Embrace the darkness, Harlan. Become one with it.
It was sung in a whispery female voice, its ghostly inflection soothing in a way that's really hard to describe. It instantly made me want to relax. All of my problems seemed to dissipate, and I no longer felt any pain.
I was standing in front of a large white church—the entrance brilliantly lit, its gothic spires rising right into the clouds. The lullaby was emanating from the church, it's calm melody beckoning me like one of those Sirens you read about in fantasy books, the ones that lured the sailors to their deaths.
Above me, the clouds were crossing the sky rapidly, almost as if someone had accelerated a film. The wind was blowing my hair around my face. It was warm and smelled of decaying flowers. I just stared at the church and wept, part in bliss, part in complete sorrow.
My first day back at school just reminded me that my suspension was actually a vacation away from Hell. Teachers gave me hostile glares as I walked to my homeroom. One good thing did happen on my way, though. I saw Ross Morrissey go limping by, using crutches to carry him along, which only served to remind me things could have been a lot worse. If I had been caught during the football incident, then I certainly wouldn't be here.
When I walked into homeroom, everybody stopped talking and looked up at me as if I been announced or something.
"Hello, people," I said, trying my best to stay calm. I wasn't used to this kind of attention.
After I sat down, Melissa Robinson, a stunningly attractive brunette, put a note on my desk. I opened it up, frowning.
What are you doing Friday night?
I sighed and wrote: Going out with my girlfriend. Sorry.
Let me ask you, Dear Reader. How in the hell does shouting, "You worship the wrong heroes, motherfucker!" convince the ladies you are suddenly dateable? If anything, saying that was incredibly embarrassing and pretentious. Two weeks ago no one would even look at me. Now all of a sudden it's like I'm freak-boy or something. I don't think they really like me, it's more of a curiosity factor. Look at me, I'm hanging out with that crazy bastard Harlan Sexton. I feel like I've become a twisted kind of trend.
Julian came up to me in the hall. "Did you see Allison anywhere yet?"
I shook my head glumly. I didn't want to be here. This place was sapping my energy in a big way. I told Julian that I'd meet him in front of the library at lunch and I went to my first period algebra class.
Mr. Peterson looked at me with that smug look that he always seems to have pasted to his face. He was the teacher I had shouted "fucking boom" at last year.
"Well, Mr. Sexton, I'm glad to see you've decided to rejoin civilized society," Peterson said, his buggy eyes threatening to pop from his skull.
I smiled. "Yes, Mr. Peterson. Especially considering that the words 'civilized society' have become an oxymoron. They just don't belong together anymore."
Gotcha! He just stood there looking at me, his face flushing. He had a vein that always throbbed in his head whenever he was getting angry. It was throbbing like fucking crazy now.
He looked down at the floor, his body rigid with controlled anger. "You know something, Mr. Sexton. You're right. As long as you decide to belong to our society than we can never be civilized."
He finally looked up at me and walked over to my desk. He bent down and whispered into my ear. "You punk cocksocker. You're lucky I don't rip your fucking head off right here."
Now that shocked me, and I have to tell you, after the last few weeks there wasn't a lot of things that can send a jolt through me.
I beckoned him closer to me, and he bent down so that I could whisper back. "Fuck you, you sorry excuse for a teacher."
He moved away and smiled at me in a very predatory way.
At this point the class was so quiet I could hear the teacher lecturing in the next room. Peterson backed up and started laughing, almost giggling insanely. Now I was actually getting nervous. For a second, he looked like he was going to lose it. He was laughing uncontrollably, but the whole time he kept his gray eyes glued to mine. The eyes weren't laughing at all—but instead seemed to be the barrels to guns.
Everybody was looking at me, either to see what I was going to say next, or because they were wondering just what in the hell I had said to make Mr. Peterson laugh. If only they knew. The whole thing was dreamlike. Peterson and me had just exchanged some pretty profane words back and forth right in front of the class, yet none of them knew a damn thing.
As I sat there watching Peterson strut around the class for the rest of the period, it suddenly hit me. I knew something about him that would probably stun the rest of the class so bad that half of them would probably pass out and fall right to the floor.
"I'm telling you I think that Peterson is the serial killer," I said to Julian as I took a sip of my orange juice. I was staring at the greasy hamburger he held between his hands. It wasn't cooked well enough and my stomach immediately began to turn.
"You're dreaming, Harlan," Julian said, biting into his hamburger hungrily. A little bit of ketchup stuck to his lip as he chewed. "Okay, so he's a little hostile to you. Don't you think he has a right to be considering you shouted 'fucking boom' in his face last year like the psycho teen that you are? Hell, I'd hate you passionately too if I was a teacher. You embarrassed the shit out of him, man. I'd have an easier time thinking that you, or Vlad, was the serial killer before I would think of Peterson. He's just too much of a pussy. He looks like a bullfrog version of Richard Dreyfuss for Christ's sake!"
I looked at the burger disgustedly. "Can you, like, at least chew that with your mouth closed?" I tried not to watch him eat. "Think about it, Julian. Jessica was the first victim and she went to the high school. Alisa was also from the high school and better yet, the
y found her body under the bleachers. So, what do they have in common? They both go to school here. And if you think about it, the killer had to know the school a little bit. He had to have some access to the school. Peterson teaches girls volleyball. It all makes perfect sense to me."
Julian put his burger down. "Oh sure, Harlan, perfect sense. Peterson whispers cocksucker in your ear and suddenly he's Ted Bundy. Even if what you say is true, that the killer does have something to do with this school, it could be anyone. It could be the goddamn janitor—it could be a student. Hell, it could be my brother. It probably is my brother."
"It's Peterson, Julian. I can tell it from my gut."
Julian sighed. "Now you sound like one of those cops from those dumb TV shows. Since when did you suddenly develop cop instincts."
I saw Sam and Allison enter the cafeteria. "Don't you say a word about this to either of them," I said to Julian. "We'll talk about this later."
Later that day, on my way home from school, I had another brush with the weird. A car pulled up beside the curb just as I turned down my street. Much to my surprise it was Ross Morrissey and three of his asshole friends. I was about to break into a run when something inside told me to just stick around.
Ross got slowly out of the car, his friend Rob handing him his crutches. "Why don't you guys take a ride for about ten minutes and then pick me up?"
I looked at him nervously as the car pulled away. I probably looked something like a dog that's been beat one too many times by his owner: Fear mixed with a little bit of hate.
"Harlan," he said, nodding his head as he hobbled over to me.
"Ross," I said, nodding back tensely. I decided just to wait and see what went down. His hair had finally started to grow back, making him look more on the athletic side rather than the psychotic side. He had gained a little weight as well, probably as a result of the lack of exercise over the last few weeks.
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