by Z. Rider
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, it was just…a static shock. Sorry. I’m really sorry about this.”
“That must have been a bad one,” she said as her towel sopped up the mess. “And I didn’t feel a thing.” A wave of cream-colored coffee splashed over the front edge of the counter, pattering at his feet, making him step back. He was glad to step back. As his breath rushed out, he realized he’d had a tight hold on it.
“Sorry,” she said. “Did I get you?”
“No. I’m just…I’m gonna go,” Dan said.
“Let me get you another coffee. A doughnut too, if you want it. On the house, because I am so sorry about this.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m just gonna…” He took another step back, his thumb pointing behind him, to the doors.
“Grab a fresh pack of ground off the shelf at least. You paid for it. Grab two. Please. I feel wicked bad about this.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“Oh!” Her eyebrows popped up. “I got it! You went to Central, didn’t you?”
Road noise got loud behind him as someone opened the front door. More people, just what he needed. His heart slammed in his chest. He turned and lurched through the vestibule, swinging a wide berth around the truck driver coming in.
He dug in his pocket for his keys. When he got in the car, he dropped his forehead against the steering wheel.
He wanted those sleeping pills a whole lot more than he had twenty minutes ago. If it weren’t for those, he’d drive right back up the two blocks to his apartment building and lock himself in. But he didn’t want to do that and sit there, wide-awake.
Just give me the chance to knock myself out again for a while.
A rap on his window brought his head up, fast.
The girl from the shop had two bags of coffee. As he rolled his window down, she fed them through, her apron soaked with the coffee he’d spilled.
“Thanks.” He held them by the bottoms, careful not to make contact with her.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m…I’m okay. And yeah, I went to Central.”
“Class of 2003?”
“’02.”
“Ah. I was a year behind you. I knew you looked familiar. You hung out with Ray Ford, didn’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“I had a wicked crush on him. Not that I ever got up the courage to say more than two words to his face. Do you ever hear from him?”
“Yeah,” he said, detached from himself. Trapped by the need to be polite to someone who’d cleaned up after him. “We still hang out.”
“Gosh. I’d ask you to say hi, but there’s no way he’d remember who I was.”
“Hey, you never know.”
She started to open her mouth. “No, no, never mind. I’ve gotta get back in before George has a shit fit. Take care of yourself, okay?”
“You too.”
As she hurried to the front doors, he put the car in drive. Wal-Mart was the closest everything-store he could think of. He hoped he didn’t run into any more old classmates.
The place was more crowded than Dunkin’ Donuts. Older folks mostly, pushing carts up the aisles. He skipped the socks, which were in the middle of the store, and headed straight to the pharmacy section, right past the registers. Cold and flu, allergy, motion sickness. NoDoz. Where were the fucking—a-ha. He grabbed three packs off the shelf and headed for the checkout. The nicest thing about Wal-Mart was its self-checkout. No human contact. He scanned his ZzzQuil, dropped it in the plastic bag, pressed the pay button.
A cart with a sticking wheel bumped toward him.
He slid his card through the reader.
The old man with the cart started unloading stuff onto the shelf at the side of the checkout.
Dan tapped his foot, waiting for the card to process. Waiting for the go-ahead to grab his shopping bag and get the fuck out of there.
The man dipped into the cart, struggled to heave up a case of canned dog food.
The receipt finally printed. Dan yanked the bag off the carousel.
And as the man turned with the case of dog food, he bumped Dan in the arm.
Dan barely heard the “Excuse me” over the roar of bees. Like a jet taking off in his head.
He jerked aside, his arm up, saying, “God fucking damn it.”
The old man stepped back, blinking. “I said excuse me.”
“Sorry. I’m sorry. Just…it’s a bad day.” He sidestepped past the cashier stand and fast-walked it out of the store with his head down, the bees staying with him, crawling all over each other at the top of his spine. He swerved around a pair of older women heading for the front doors and crossed the parking lot, squeezing his keys so hard the jagged edges dug impressions into his palm.
Goddamnit.
It was back. Whatever it was, it was definitely, absolutely, no question about it back. He had the sleeping pills, though. He could knock himself out, wake up hours from now just like he had in the hospital. Wake up feeling fine. Right?
And if he weren’t fine, he’d see the doctor.
He hoped he’d be fucking fine.
Goddamnit.
He wanted to hit things. Pick shit up and hurl it at the asphalt. Instead he yanked open his door and threw the bag inside.
“Fuck!” He slammed the roof of the car with his hand. Propping his elbow against it, he covered his eyes. Fuck. The bees buzzed restlessly. Hotly. He gritted his teeth, his lips pulling back.
Fuck!
He drew back and hit the car again, hard, and just off enough to slice the edge of his palm open on the wind deflector. “Fuck.” He shoved the cut in his mouth, sucking on it to stem the bleeding. Fuck. He closed his eyes.
And opened them.
It was quiet.
Completely quiet. Oh, there were motors running, the crash of one of the Wal-Mart guys shoving two lines of carts together. A pair of high heels clicked efficiently across the pavement. But inside him, total peace and quiet.
He dropped his hand from his mouth. Let his breath out.
Peace and quiet.
His phone rang.
He looked at the side of his hand, slick with spit, blood beading from the cut. He licked it.
His phone continued to ring.
But the bees were gone. The headache was gone, just like that.
Just like that, everything felt all right again.
He reached across himself to pull the phone from his pocket with his good hand.
“Hello,” he said to Ray.
“Hey. What are you up to?”
“Fucking shopping. Remind me to do it online next time.”
Ray gave a wheezy laugh.
“What’s up with you?” Dan slid into the driver’s seat.
“Jamie just called.”
“Uh-oh.”
“He wants a ride to this detox place in Rhode Island. I told him I’d do it.”
“You want some company?” The bees were gone. It gave him confidence. He was suddenly not so keen to go home—wander around his empty place, waiting for the bees to come back? No thanks.
“Only if you’re not busy,” Ray said.
“No plans for the day. Swing by and pick me up.”
“All right. I just got on 293. I’ll be there in a couple.”
“You’ll probably beat me.” He had a lot more lights between himself and his place than Ray did.
When he rolled around the corner, Ray’s beat-up Fury idled alongside the sidewalk. He left his stuff in his car, locked up, and jumped in with Ray.
“It’s strangely clean in here.” Usually he had to kick trash around to make room for his feet.
“Yeah, Sarah cleaned up when she was using it.”
“I’m in favor of that. Still smells like an ashtray, though.”
“What can you do?” Ray said around a cigarette. They headed back to the interstate with their windows down, wind blowing their hair.
“So why’s
he want to go to detox all of the sudden?” Dan said.
“‘I don’t want to talk about it’ is all he said.”
“Ah shit. That always means ‘There’s something I don’t want to tell you about.’”
“‘That I should tell you about,’” Ray added.
“Yep.”
“Well.” Ray glanced in the rearview before sliding around a car going fifty. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth is how I see it. Whatever his reasons, he’s going to detox.”
“And it’s far enough away that he might not hitchhike home after a day,” Dan said. “Maybe.”
“Maybe.”
Jamie was sitting on his parents’ steps when they pulled in. He jumped to his feet, a duffle bag in his fist, and strode to the driveway. The bag went in first. Jamie climbed in behind it, all knees and elbows.
Dan waited till they were back on the interstate—too far for Jamie to spring out and walk home—before he turned in his seat, grabbing hold of its headrest. “So is it just detox, or are you going to do rehab too?”
“I’m taking things one at a time, trying not to get too far ahead of myself. Detox, then see where I am.” He shoved his hair back from his face and blew a stream of air out as he looked out the side window.
So detox only then. Dan wanted to ask whether they should expect the cops or a pissed-off chick to come knocking at their doors looking for him, but Ray was right: the guy was going to detox, whatever the sketchy reason behind it. Best to look on that bright side.
“So what’s this place in Rhode Island?” he asked instead.
“They do medical detox. No one around here does that, at least not that I could find on the internet.”
“And medical detox is…?”
“They give you drugs to get you off drugs,” Ray said.
“Whatever works.” Dan turned back around and settled in for the two-hour ride.
The two hours stretched to nearly three when Jamie wanted to grab lunch before checking in. If Dan hadn’t been feeling so much better, he’d have been edgy by the time Ray flagged down the waitress and begged her to bring their check. He looked at the side of his hand, the cut stiffening with a delicate layer of scab. So was it…?
Had he gotten rid of the bees by sucking his own blood?
“Let’s go.” Ray dropped a couple twenties on the table.
“Don’t be in a rush to get rid of me or anything.” Jamie slid out of the booth.
“I’m just in a rush to get a smoke,” Ray said. “Come on.”
“Can I get one off you?”
“You can get a whole pack.”
“Can you smoke in detox?” Dan asked, following behind.
“Yeah,” Jamie said. “They don’t make you quit everything.”
In the car, Ray leaned across Dan to pop the glovebox. He grabbed two packs and tossed them over the seat. His elbow brushed Dan’s arm, and…
Nothing.
With a sigh of relief, Dan sank down in his seat.
Absolutely fucking beautifully nothing.
† † †
“So how’re you doing?” Ray said as they drove back through Massachusetts.
“Oh, you know.” He studied the trees whipping by. “I’ll live. You?”
“Adjusting.” Ray smiled. He actually did better on the road. Being in one place too long started to itch at him almost as soon as his bags were unpacked.
“Get unpacked yet?” Dan asked.
“Nah. I’m thinking of having HazMat come pick it all up and dispose of it. Except for the guitars.”
“Of course.”
“Probably be doing my neighbors a favor. I don’t even want to unzip those bags. How’ve you been feeling, though? Any repeats of the other night?”
Dan chose his words carefully. He didn’t want to lie to his best friend—but he didn’t want Ray pulling up to the ER doors instead of his apartment, either. “I think I’m still catching up on sleep. And, you know, non-fast food.”
“Mom stock the fridge?”
“You know it.”
“Nice,” Ray said. “The only thing in mine when I got back was condiments and beer.”
“And now it’s down to the condiments, right?”
“You know it.” Ray grinned.
The album Ray had going on the car’s stereo—the only update the car had had since it rolled off the factory line in 1978—ended, leaving a restless silence. Dan scrolled Ray’s phone for something else to put on, decided on Louisiana Red—dark enough to fit the shit in his head. When it started up, he turned up the volume before settling back in his seat to watch Wellesley pass by the windows.
The sky turned the gray of engine exhaust.
His body still felt good, but he chewed on the edge of his thumbnail as Red sang about feeling the sweet blood call. He pressed his eyes shut for a moment, thinking of his hand. Thinking about the silence the moment blood had touched his tongue.
“Looks like we’re in for a storm,” Ray said.
“Yeah. Hey.”
“Mmhm?”
“I’m sorry about what happened on the bus.”
“Yeah. Just don’t let it happen again, we’ll be fine.” Ray squeezed the steering wheel with the hand Dan had tried to gnaw on, and Dan dragged his eyes away. Thinking about the give of flesh under his teeth. About the CT tech and the dark shadows of that memory.
Was it blood he’d been after?
Jesus, he was becoming a fucking vampire. He’d have laughed if he weren’t so freaked out.
“When do you want to get started back to writing?” Ray asked.
“Any time’s fine with me. How’s the foot?”
“Better since I’m not walking on it so much. I’ll give you a few more days to catch up on sleep. Lord knows I could use it.”
Fair enough: once they started writing, they’d be up till sunup, hardly noticing time spinning past.
“I’ve got a few ideas on the one we started in Dallas,” Ray said.
“Cool.”
“That breakdown problem we kept running into.” He hummed a bit, like a question mark, and when Dan said, “Right,” he said, “I think I’ve got that smoothed out. I’ll show you when we get together. Thursday good?”
“What day is it today?”
“Monday. I think.” He tapped a beat on the steering wheel. “Yeah, pretty sure it’s Monday.”
“Thursday’s good,” Dan said. “I’ve gotta have dinner with Mom soon. This weekend, maybe. Wanna come?”
“If I’m free. Buddy’s throwing a thing for Sarah’s birthday this weekend.”
“There’s always next time if you don’t.” He stretched, pushing his hands against the car’s ceiling.
They fell into a familiar silence that took them up into New Hampshire. Salem, Pelham, Windham, Derry. The gray sky darkened the farther north they went. By Londonderry it felt hours later than it was.
Dan said, “How are Buddy and the family?”
“Good. Jane started school and has no front teeth. Sarah wants another one. Buddy’s wanted another one anyway, so he’s happy about that.” He tapped the wheel again, the rhythm of the Dallas song. One of them was going to need to put words to it.
“You ever want kids?” Ray asked.
“I get exhausted thinking about having a goldfish.”
Ray laughed.
“What about you?” Dan asked.
“The idea of it’s pretty amazing, you know? You bring someone into this world that’s part of you, that looks up to you, thinks you’re the best guy in the world. Then I think, When would I see them? ’Cause I can’t imagine taking kids on the road. Around Jamie? Around Stick?”
“Stick’s actually great with kids.”
“Yeah, but you don’t want kids underfoot, you know? I don’t want kids underfoot. So instead of being this guy they looked up to, I’d be this guy they’d see a couple weeks at a time, in and out of their lives like a stranger. My memories of them would be snapshots. Their memories would be snaps
hots.”
“I think everybody’s memories are snapshots.”
“You know what I mean. Anyway, it’s just making excuses. The reality of the situation is if I wanted kids, I’d find a way to make it work, so I probably don’t want them that much.”
“You’ve given it a fuckload more thought than I have.”
Ray shrugged. “It’s just ’cause of Jane. That’s the first kid I’ve had in my life. But while I’m the cool uncle who disappears for months at a time, the way she looks at her dad… Sometimes I think, I want that. I want to be someone’s whole world. But…you know, at the same time, I don’t want to give up any of my own world.” They slowed for traffic, and Ray said, “That night we took you to the hospital, what do you remember?”
Dan sighed, looking out the window again. The first fat drops of rain hit the glass. “I don’t know. Everything after blacking out was black. I vaguely remember a struggle. I guess that was the tech, before they sedated me. Actually I vaguely remember trying to bite someone’s face off. Were you there for that?”
Ray twisted his hands on the wheel. “They wheeled you away for the CT scan.”
“Was I awake then?”
“Sort of sleep-mumbling.”
“It’s all fucked up in my head. I don’t know if I was hallucinating or just losing my mind. You said you saw things squirming in my eyes?”
“Yeah. I thought so at the time, but it seems kind of crazy now, right? I was probably just freaking out.”
Dan bit his lip. When he let it slide free, it was to say, “I didn’t mention it at the hospital, but when I was all fucked up, I couldn’t see straight. It was like when you’re dreaming and you’re trying to read something, and the harder you try, the less you’re able to see.”
“Fuckhead,” Ray said.
“What?”
“You should have told them that at the hospital. Because if I did see what I thought, and you saw what I saw from the other side—that’s seriously fucked up. They’d have checked you harder if you’d said something.”
Dan shook his head, not denying it, just not wanting to talk about should-have-dones. It hadn’t come back, the eye thing. Who was to say they didn’t both hallucinate it? Who was to say he wasn’t having trouble seeing because he was losing it, and Ray just thought he saw something in a flash that wasn’t there? A week past the events, the edges could have softened enough to let them jimmy their two pieces of memory together and call it a match, but what if it was just coincidence?
