The Rest Is Illusion

by Eric Arvin

  “Yeah… he’s a looker,” Sarah agreed politely. She held her cup out in front of her on the table. It was empty. Lydia got a cup and filled it up at the fountain.

  “Oh!” Lydia said, suddenly remembering something. “Your dad called again earlier.” Sarah’s heart almost burst into flames at the suddenness of the exclamation. She gave Lydia her full attention. Her eyes were wide, drawing in the light of the room.

  “What did he want?” she asked. Her demeanor had totally changed. She had panic in her eyes.

  “I don’t know. He left a message. I’m sure it’s nothing,” Lydia said. “Anyway, I’m going to go back upstairs. See you,” she said, as she made her way to the steps. “Are you all right, Sarah?” she asked, turning to look at her at the bottom step.

  “I’m fine,” Sarah lied. She raised her hand to her forehead and rubbed. News of her father in any capacity was enough to suck the spirit right out of her being. She decided she needed to find Ashley and get very drunk.

  The clip-clop of Lydia’s shoes ascended the stairs like hooves.

  TONY TRIED to keep tabs on all he’d had to drink that night, counting under his breath on the imaginary fingers in his mind as he slouched on the stained, tattered, and torn plaid sofa in the darkened fraternity room. Seven, maybe eight, shots of tequila, a couple beers, mixed drinks in a few other rooms, a shot of Jäger, some fruity vodka drink, another beer, then two forced bongings. He was more intoxicated than he could ever remember. The room spun. A muddle of guys circled around him drinking and swearing. He heard excited laughter but could not keep his eyes focused long enough to match a voice with a person. Besides, the music was so loud, and the only light sources were the eerie blue fluorescent bulbs that gave everything a ghoulish, morgue-like feeling. Gabriel’s wings appeared nightmarish as the blue light evaporated into their sheen.

  Wilder sat by Tony on the sofa. Wilder was saying something, but Tony couldn’t make it out. He strained hard to listen, but it was useless. Instead, he watched Wilder’s lips, transfixed and clueless. The music, the drunken frat brothers, everything was a blur to Tony’s senses.

  The room was so crowded and dark that Tony didn’t notice Wilder’s hand massaging his inner thigh at first. The sensation stirred something in him. He suddenly remembered Dash in the restroom, warning him about Wilder. Where was Dash? Tony had been looking all night, but Dash had completely vanished from the house. Tony felt a need to see Dashel’s gentle, slightly fearful stare.

  “Where’s Dash?” he asked no one in particular as he made a clumsy effort to stand. Wilder stared up at him from the sofa. Tony felt a nudge on the underside of his knee and fell forward in a collapsed huddle. The guys in the room howled with laughter and helped Tony back on his feet. Wilder sat in the same, unaltered position on the sofa.

  “You are sloshed, bro,” one of the guys kidded. “Someone needs to get you some water. Then maybe you should get to bed.” The music still blared in a discordant cacophony of sound. No one thought to turn it down.

  “Let me,” Wilder said, rising from the sofa. “I need to leave, anyway. I’ll take him on my way out.” He put his arm around Tony’s shoulder. Tony looked at him, remembering a nudge on the back of his leg, but he couldn’t pull the disassociated thoughts together.

  “Thanks, Wilder,” said the drunk football player who had spoken previously. “Get some sleep,” he said, as he gave Tony a playful slap on the face.

  Wilder led Tony from the room. Gabe cleared a path in the doorway for them. Tony glanced one more time at the glimmering wings.

  “You kicked me, didn’t you? Why’d you kick me?” Tony asked Wilder as they cleared the room and made their way down the hall. Partygoers who lined the hall parted with snickers and humorous pity as Wilder and Tony made their way through.

  “I didn’t kick you,” Wilder said. “Your legs must have buckled.”

  “No, you kicked me. I felt it,” Tony slurred. He was getting heavier. “Where’s Dash? I need to talk to him…,” Tony said as his voice trailed off and was drowned out by the music. He felt Wilder tighten his grip on his shoulder.

  In Tony’s room, the only room on the second floor of the house without a party, Wilder laid Tony on the bed, then closed and locked the door. Tony sat up on his elbows. It took some effort.

  “I need some water,” he said drowsily, as if he were almost asleep. In fact, his eyes were closed. He didn’t see any dim party lights here, only the intruding glare of the overhead that hurt his drunken eyes.

  “I’ll get you some. You just rest,” Wilder said as he went to the mini-fridge in the room and found some bottled water. “Here you go, buddy.” He handed Tony the bottle. Tony opened his eyes and drank the whole bottle. A dribble of water dripped down his chin. He threw the empty bottle across the room and fell back on the bed. The spinning intensified. He knew he would be sick the next morning.

  Tony felt a hand slowly undoing his jeans. “What are you doing?” he asked groggily, his eyes refusing to reopen.

  “Shhh,” Wilder hushed. “You’ll like this,” he whispered in what seemed like the voice of a snake.

  And again, Tony’s mind echoed with Dash’s warning. But where was Dash?

  IT IRRITATED Wilder to hear Tony sputter out Dashel’s name with such obvious concern. And the accusation of a push to the back of the knee was insulting even if it was true. How dare Tony question his actions, as if Wilder wasn’t in control. Wilder was losing his patience.

  Tony lay semiconscious on the bed, still awake enough to question what was happening, still quarrelsome and accusatory.

  “Trust me,” Wilder repeated, “you’ll like this.” Truthfully, Wilder knew Tony would not like what was about to happen. But Tony had lost control of his own faculties. He had become weak by his own actions. What was to follow was nothing more than retribution for his weakness.

  Wilder pulled Tony’s jeans down past his knees. Tony had large legs due to years of football. They were muscular and sculpted, with the thinnest of dark hairs. Wilder ran his hands up Tony’s inner thighs. Tony gave a sleepy moan. Wilder tugged at the band of Tony’s boxer briefs, which did little to hide a growing, if alcohol-induced, bulge. Tony was now fully asleep. The pleasurable sensation of a hand on the inner thigh had put him under.

  So easy, Wilder thought. Still, it disturbed him that he had not been able to trap Tony as easily as everyone else. As easily as all the other simple sluts and weaklings of Verona College.

  Carefully, Wilder started undressing the passed-out football hero. Unlacing the shoes, slipping off the wool socks, taking the jeans the rest of the way off, then the boxer briefs and the T-shirt. Everything was removed meticulously, silently. When Tony was completely naked, lying on the tousled white sheets, Wilder stood back and examined his handiwork. Tony’s cock, though not turgid and stiff, stood at least softly aroused from Wilder’s gentle attention. His plan of conquest was in motion, and it had required very little effort at all.

  Wilder’s lip curled, and his eyes flashed angrily. He came closer to the bed, standing directly over Tony, and began to undress slowly, eyes ever on his victim. A twisted lap dance for an unwitting foe. When he too was completely nude, he reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a small camera. There was a growing excitement at seeing Tony’s slumbering, masculine face. It did look as naive and stupid as the others after all. Wilder adjusted Tony’s limp body and proceeded to spin his web….

  When it was through, the web spun, Wilder dressed and looked at Tony lying so quiet and ignorant on the bed. Wilder congratulated himself on his victory. Tony would wake up naked in the morning and soon learn the truth. But it would be a lesson on Wilder’s terms. He felt a profound rush, a stratospheric sense of importance and control, something his father must feel every day.

  With the camera safely in his pocket, he left the defeated football star on the bed, closing the door behind him. The house was getting quiet. The hallways and stairwells were vacant, and the party was almost d
ead. Wilder, high in his own inner sky, walked back to his dorm through the falling snow. He still had things to do that night.

  Chapter Four

  He was the bird again. High on the strong branch of the old tree overlooking the river valley, he eyed the stillness across the flow. The loneliness was a rich fog, millions of memories floating on the thin air just above a tranquilized current.

  The water in the river had frozen. Not just frozen, but turned to shiny glass. The river had been transformed into natural concrete with a delicate sheen. Still, the sound of great amounts of flowing water echoed along like tiny clapping hands beneath the surface. The air in the dream was tangible. It could almost talk, a being unto itself with the body of ample mist.

  As he, the Great Bird, watched with keen awareness, he noticed movement down on the beach. A young stag was gracefully strolling toward the glass-water with slow, languid steps. It bent to take a sip at the river’s edge, but its tongue was met with ice concrete. It raised its head and looked up in the tree, directly and purposely at the Great Bird on the high branch. Then, with a twitch of the neck and shake of the tail, the stag turned back to the river and walked across the palpable stillness.

  Lights on the hillside across the water glimmered and sparkled like sun-stroked icicles through the forest. Soon, the entire hill was alive with a bright whiteness that engulfed the stag, enfolding it into the light. The shimmering white flood inundated the great river, and the mirrored reflection of the abundant light on the glass-water blinded sight of the world. As the cascade of luminescence reached out for the tree, the bird saw, in the corner of its keen eye, a red streak, sharp crimson that turned everything a blushing pink….

  Wake up, Dashel. This is all for you.

  Dashel woke on a pew in the college chapel. The morning sun was coming in through the windows. He heard a great many voices coming from outside, yet Dash was alone in the small house of Christian worship. After climbing the steep hill through heavy snow and darkness, he had chosen to rest in the first building he could find open. The chapel met the criteria. It was open all night for any student who needed a place to pray or heal. Dash had curled up immediately on the pew closest to the pulpit. Now his legs ached from the night’s climb, and a sniffle had set in.

  He sat up and rubbed his nose. The dream had been different this time. Never before had it changed so drastically, but there it was, that deer. And the river freezing over? That was definitely different. Still, he had awakened with the same feeling of contentment. It was still a pleasure to sleep and dream of the tree and the valley.

  The laughter was loud outside. Dash rose from his seat, leaving his things behind. His legs were sore from his journey, but it felt good to feel the juices in the muscles again. It reminded him of his days on the track team.

  “You going to go join in on the fun?” a kindly voice asked from near the front of the chapel. Dr. True must have slid in silently as Dash was pondering the meaning of his dream.

  “What’s going on out there?” Dash asked, smiling. He was slightly alarmed by Dr. True’s presence, but his euphoric dream state had not yet fully worn away. And, too, Dash felt different. Lighter. Relieved.

  “A big snowball fight. I almost got pelted myself coming in. It just missed me,” Dr. True said in his shy manner. “A friend of yours, I think. Wilder Rawls?”

  Wilder, a friend? Dash smiled at the chaplain’s innocence.

  “Guess I’ll go join everyone, then,” Dash replied. “Can I leave my things in here? I don’t know if I have the strength to carry all that.”

  “Absolutely,” True said gently. “That’s what this place is for. It’s good at helping to carry loads.” Dash swallowed and turned to leave, the statement stiff in the air. “Dashel,” True called. “If you ever need to talk….”

  Dash turned and smiled again. “Thanks,” he said and opened the double doors of the chapel onto the light of the quad.

  Outside was a frenzy of flying snow and screaming students. Dash stood for a moment with one hand on each of the doors, taking in the scenery around him. It was a beautiful day. The snow had stopped falling, leaving a foot of sparkling powder on the ground. Firm stuff. Easily packable. The clouds had departed and left the sky clear and blue. Dash inhaled the day, letting it sink into every poisoned, sickened cell.

  Realizing he still stood with the chapel doors wide open, he closed them and waved to Dr. True as they shut. As he turned back, a ball of snow hit him straight in the chest, bursting into thousands of tiny fragments. He looked to see Sarah and Ashley, snowballs in hand, ready to wage war.

  “You’re in for it now, Jesus Freak,” Ash grinned. He was playful as a young pup, bouncing around with vibrant energy.

  “Shit!” Dash yelled as he flew from the chapel steps laughing. Sarah and Ashley took off after him. Dash swooped down to the cold earth with one hand to grab a fistful of snow and join in the fight. He felt almost cured. Elated to be alive.

  FROM THE window of Sarah’s dorm room, Ashley saw the growing throng of students assembling in the quad. Ashley smiled at the thought of the great battle that was about to occur, a snowball war the likes of which the campus had never seen, or so the student body said every year when a great snowstorm descended. Sarah was still sleeping, curled up in the deep red comforter they had both snuggled under the previous night.

  It was late morning. Everyone who hadn’t gone to the Sigma Gamma party the night before had probably already been awake for hours. The party attendees, however, were just beginning to stir and look out their windows onto the white canvas of the world. Ashley himself had only just gotten up. The bright sheen off the snow had called to him as it lit up the room. He rose without waking Sarah and walked to the window. The students outside were dividing into teams. Their alliance between friends would vanish after a short time, and it would be every collegiate for him or herself. It was tradition to stand alone and gleefully fight.

  Ashley still wore his smoke and beer-stinking clothes from the party. He and Sarah had grown tired of it and left early. Sarah had seemed a little disturbed and distant after she had returned from the basement. When he asked her about it, she passed it off with a forced grin.

  Ashley took Sarah by the hand as they walked past the noisy partygoers and out into the snowy campus night. Sarah wanted to go to her room. Lydia wouldn’t be there for a while, if at all, so they could talk and relax and watch cult classic movies. They walked slowly, meandering. The cold didn’t bother either of them. They cuddled and enjoyed the silent alone time of an empty college campus in a nighttime blizzard.

  When they reached the dorm, they talked for a while, watched a movie, then curled up under the red comforter and slept. It was as if they had done it a thousand times before. Ashley felt the tickling of desire, but he realized the time wasn’t right to play the romantic. So he pulled Sarah close to him and slept contentedly, nuzzling into her breasts.

  “What’s happening out there?” Ashley heard Sarah ask, half asleep. He turned from the window to see her reclining on her elbows, wiping the sleep from her eyes.

  Ashley grinned widely. “Snowball war,” he said in a hushed holler. “Let’s go!”

  Soon they were back in their winter coats. Sarah had hopped out of bed as if the fire alarm had sounded. Lydia stirred in her bed, disturbed by their busy excitement. She had come back after all and snuck in while they were both passed out in each other’s arms. Sarah flipped her bright pink scarf around her neck, and they were out the door.

  Once outside, Sarah wasted no time. It was war, after all. She reached for a heap of snow that had piled on one of the well-manicured bushes and flung it at Ashley without bothering to form it into anything resembling a ball. Ashley squealed and shivered as the wet, cold snow found its way inside his clothes. He looked up at her with a playfully menacing grin as he took a great pile of snow and dumped it on himself, grunting with caveman-like bravado.

  His green hair was turned white once more. Sarah shrieked in delight
and ran into the middle of the quad war, icy missiles launched over her and whizzing past her with great speed, her classmates laughing and screaming on all sides. Ashley ran after her, shaping a weapon of glacial death. With a great grunt, he threw… and missed. Sarah bent to pack a ball of her own. Ashley ran at her and tackled her as she rose. They both fell to the ground in a fit of laughter, he on top of her. Sprinkles of frozen light in the air blessed them, fragments of the flying snowballs overhead.

  “No fair,” Sarah said as she caught her breath. “You blend in.”

  “Yes. We albinos love the snow. In times of war, it’s our greatest asset. We’re like invisible men,” Ash said in a mock show of evil. Sarah giggled, kissed him quickly on the lips, and used the shock of the moment to free an arm, grab a handful of powder and stuff it down his pants. He howled as she got to her feet, delirious from laughter.

  “You are so dead!” he promised as he chased her to the chapel. She had a good lead, and they couldn’t run very fast in the thick snow. They were both pelted by other snow soldiers as they ran.

  As Ashley approached the chapel, he noticed Sarah had stopped running and was staring at something, the back of her black coat caked with snow. He ran to her side, slowing as he got closer and looked in the direction of her stare. The screaming and fits of joy continued all about them.

  “What’s he doing?” Sarah asked.

  Dashel was standing in the chapel doorway, eyes closed and an arm on each of the two doors. Ashley saw something different about him. A strange glow was on his face. Maybe it was just the light from the sun and the snow, but he seemed peaceful and at ease.

  Ashley looked at Sarah’s eyes and saw the same glint of recognition and admiration she had shown him all through the morning and previous night. The slightest tinge of jealousy came over him, but he swept it away beneath happier thoughts.