September Rain

by A.R. Rivera

32

  -Angel

  My hands still grip the thin woolen arms of the chair. If they weren't cuffed, I might press one to my mouth to keep it closed. Biting my lip doesn't keep a keening cry from escaping; just like being bound doesn't stop my body from shaking.

  I heard the womans' name. Quiet Man addressed her a minute ago. I need to focus on something else until I calm down, so I focus on committing her name to memory.

  Tara. Tara. Tara.

  Tear-a. Tear-a . . . nother piece of my heart out.

  Tara with the tight hair bun-her lips don't move, but pucker. I can't figure her out. She gives so little in the way of emotion, it's tough to decipher between surprise and disgust. She could be thinking. Or maybe she's bored.

  "Take your time." Tara says, surprising me.

  It takes some effort, but I gather my wits, managing to look Tara in the eye. "Have you ever been in love?"

  Quiet Man leans forward in his chair. "I know we've maintained a level of informality, but you must remember this inquiry is about you. Your diagnoses and your needs."

  "Darren, please. It's fine." Tara sets a hand on his forearm. She looks first to my lawyer, who nods his head, then back to me and says, "Yes."

  I take a modicum of comfort. Though, no one could ever love another person as much as I loved Jake, I think she might get it. The cries threaten my throat again. "This is hard to say." It's irritating-that three-letter word, say-it cheapens what I am about to disclose.

  "Do you need a break?" Darren asks.

  I shake my head. I have to focus, try not to contract into a fetal position. Looking to the other coats in the room, everyone is quietly staring, waiting with blank faces.

  The images roll through in my mind. A reel of film, showcasing the memories of what I remember from the morning we left.

  "Just like I had lost myself in the corridor at school, I don't recall anything but waking up in the car that morning. I had no idea how I got there, or how where 'there' was. We were just driving through the desert."

  +++

  "Wake up, Princess Bitch-Face."

  My eyes fluttered open and the first thing I saw was the long road. There was static-filled music playing. The wind coming in through the half-open windows was dry and hot. Avery had the widest, dumbest grin on her face.

  "Where are we?" I sat up, rubbing my watery eyes. The sun was too bright.

  "We've been on the road an hour or so." Her eyes swept over the clock on the dashboard. "You were totally out of it, I thought I'd let you sleep."

  I was suddenly confused, staring at the old Plymouth we were riding in. It was Avery's moms' car; white with blue-gray seats. It looked an awful lot like those unmarked cop cars we used to see outside the courthouse downtown. Avery called it the Narc.

  "Back to sleep? What do you mean? I don't remember getting in. What did Deanna say?" My chest tightened as the questions kept coming. "Did you talk to her?"

  Avery turned her eyes from the road to look me over. "You really don't remember?"

  "Remember what?"

  "You were right there at the dining table. You and Deanna talked for a long time. Well, I did most of the talking. I told her how much you need this, Angel. You talked about Rosa and how hard things have been for you at school. Then, you started crying about Jake leaving . . . and, well, she totally bought it." She clapped her hands together, grinning. "Dude, we had her feeling so sorry for you." Avery shrugged. "What's a few lies among thieves?"

  "She said I could go?"

  Avery's eyes widened as she shook her head. "Well, first, she said it was a terrible idea, and she smoked a few cigarettes-I can't believe she started again-and I reminded her you're a free bird soon, either way. This is your chance at building a future where you don't become a fucking statistic like every other foster kid that's homeless when they age-out."

  My heart was pounding like the bass drums in the breakdown of One. I imagined Lars Ulrich, if he heard, would've been proud my heart could keep time with his double kicks.

  "By the end of her third cigarette, she agreed that she had to let you go. You really don't remember any of this?"

  I shook my head.

  "Maybe you blocked it out. She was kind of screaming when she finally gave in. Hey, have you been taking your Clozapine on time?"

  I nodded, "Yeah. I take it every night before bed because it makes me so dizzy."

  The static radio signal completely cut out and the car grew quiet. After a moment, Avery chuckled, "Well, shit. I guess you'll have to take my word for it. So be happy knowing that she was pissed, but being cool about all of this. Oh! And I haven't even told you the best part, yet." Her eyes were glowing as she described the reason we had gotten on the road as soon as humanly possible.

  "Your Jake and his Analog Controller will be in Tempe, at their hotel, as you know. But I talked to Max and he told me they're doing an interview with a newspaper there. I heard they might be on the radio, too."

  My mouth fell open. The dry desert air immediately zapped the moisture from it while the depth of what Avery said sank in, bone deep. My whole body was simultaneously seized by sadness and extreme joy. "I can't go back. I can't thank her."

  "You did. And, hello? McFly?" Avery knocked on my head. "Focus. We're starting a whole new life, Angel! We are masters of our own destiny. We get to watch both auditions. We get to soak up the California sunshine."

  Avery wanted to keep the conversation to the positive side. So I let her. It was easier to let myself concentrate on the fun we were about to have: meeting up with the tour, watching the shows, lying out on hot, sunny beaches and spending the rest of my life on one with Jake.

  I never felt so high in my life. My spirit lifted from the bitter earth and into wild euphoria. I never wanted to come back down. I wanted to stay up, up in the air with Avery, with Jake and his music. Forever. And for the first time in my life, that seemed like a possibility.

  We were in an area between radio stations-between worlds-leaving one to begin another. And I don't remember if I spoke the thought out loud or not, but somehow we ended up in a deep conversation about the power of music, which got me talking about Jake. Naturally.

  "It's like, he creates words that have a power to bring me to life."

  Avery eyed me, switching her gaze between me and the road. "That's so profound."

  I couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic, but I hoped not, because I meant it. Avery had a way of looking in and seeing everything and her deep green eyes made me think she was being serious. I distinctly remember smiling back, feeling thankful that she chose to use her powers of persuasion for good instead of evil.

  Jakes eyes were like two hazel windows that led into an old soul. In them, I saw purity. Even when they were glossed with alcohol, there was wisdom looking back from inside. Jake had the kind of eyes that drilled a deep, pointed sense of focus into you. The kind that changed your biology. He was mysterious. There was a spark in his stare. When he looked at me there was no one else. It was a mystery and a miracle that Jake could carry such surety and purity and release it so freely in his music.

  My insides twisted with anticipation every time I thought about the show. Because I knew better than anybody how Analog Controller could move a room. There would be a sick mosh pit going, I just knew it. Jake liked to jump in with the crowd when the music allowed. But sometimes, he would just play and watch.

  I imagined how the bodies would be packed shoulder to shoulder; the crowd moving as one when they played Killing Season.

  Underneath the night sky,

  Underneath the moon,

  My dead dreams come crashing down,

  Littering the tombs.

  But I stay alive drinking from your veins,

  Hooking up while going down,

  Down into my grave.

  +++

  The motel was a single story, two-tone brown affair with a kidney-shaped pool behind a painted iron fence at the back of the building. Commercials were
blaring from the local radio station as the Narc pulled into the lot. When Avery parked, we both went for our seatbelts. She set her hand over mine.

  "Wait here. I'm gonna see what the rates are."

  We hadn't discussed gas money or room rates. "I have like two-hundred dollars." More than I had ever had, but still, not much considering there was no payday in sight. I would have to get a job the second I got to Los Angeles.

  Avery grinned, vacating the driver's seat. "Don't worry. This one's on me."

  "Via your mother," I assumed.

  "I kind of stole her grocery money." She laughed at my shocked expression and turned towards the office.

  In less time than I expected, Avery was back in the driver's seat handing me a single, silver key with an orange tear-drop key ring. "Room number one-six-six."

  "It's around back."

  We scanned the lot for the tell-tale white van, but it was nowhere to be found.

  The second we romped into our single star room with en suite bath, a fifteen-by-twelve palace, perfectly suited for trailer-park royalty like me, it was a race to get into our bathing suits. I snatched a few towels and we were headed for the pool in less than five minutes. Not to swim. At least I wasn't planning on swimming. I wanted to bake in the hot sun for a while; catch a little color.

  While Avery familiarized herself with the spring of the diving board, I spread out my towel and commenced with sunning my back. The dry desert air swept across my skin, soaking me with warmth. Before long, every cell in my body opened wide, keenly craving the radioactive burn-minus tan lines. I reached back and untied the string of my top, flopping the black laces down around my sides.

  It was so peaceful.

  +++

  My eyes flew open at the first scent of a vomit inducing stench. A rank wind kicked up while I napped. I smoothed my hair behind me and spotted a dark shape. The sudden closeness kick started my heart and I flinched before the shape registered-I was beside a trash can.

  Avery was lying at the edge of the pool, beside the cool blue water. Her long body looked still like the sparkling surface she aligned herself against. With one hand extended over the concrete ridge, her fingers traced the surface of the water.

  Just passed the edge of the nasty trash can, I found the shape of magnificence: a white van in the parking lot, a passenger model of American make, dirty inside and out with a dented back bumper, and way too many bumper stickers. Only three spaces away. It was parked sideways because there was a small trailer hitched behind it.

  My stomach flipped.

  Being with Jake was like being with two people. My Jake was quiet, panther smooth when he stalked me, super-sexy, and unintentionally brutal in his honesty. Also a little awkward in the way he'd get excited sometimes and talk with his hands. He was so completely talented, it blew my mind. When I was with him, I was me. But when I glimpsed Jake, the lead vocalist for the up and coming band Analog Controller that I loved longer than I'd known him; he was loud, raucous, and his performances exuded enough energy to power a small city. It turned me giddy. Every time I saw the front-man I devolved into the mumbling fan-girl he met in a dark hallway with his face plastered on her t-shirt.

  From behind the van, carrying a long duffle bag, a pouch of drumsticks and a guitar case was the very mischievous Max Sims-the tall, brown-haired cutie.

  "What are they doing at a shit-bag motel like this?" Avery snickered.

  "It's no five-star Inn, but they offer free continental breakfast until eleven."

  We were wrapped in towels and moving towards our room, keeping to the shadows like stalkers until we reached our door.

  "Do you think they're all staying together?" Avery asked and I knew who she was referring to: the auditioning guitarist.

  I shrugged. Avery shrugged back, stretching around the doorframe to see what she could see.

  Her declaration came in a hoarse whisper. "Angel, they're all here." She jerked my arm forward and simultaneously fell out of my way so I could see.

  Out from behind the van appeared the lanky form of Andrew Greene. He was wearing his favorite Sex Pistols t-shirt and faded jeans, carrying a backpack, and just behind him, a beautiful, talented dream. The lead singer. His head was covered with a black skull cap. Just below the edge, on the sides and back, the milky skin of his head was visible under newly shorn hair.

  I was drawn, like a magnet, into the open corridor. Jake was looking down, adjusting the straps of the bags he was hauling. Just as my lips began to form the first sounds of his name, Avery's hand reached from inside the room, yanking me back.

  "Angel," The corner of the towel that was around my waist was now in her hands. "It's supposed to be a surprise!"

  My hands rushed to my cheeks. "I don't know if I have the patience to wait until tonight."

  "Think of it as letting Jake concentrate on the interviews. Besides, I like playing stalkery fan-girl and I want to have my friend to myself a little longer. Will you let me? Once he knows you're here, this tour is going to be all about you two and I'll be back to third-wheel."

  Looking at her pouty face, I totally caved.

  Avery rewarded my loyalty with the first shower. Probably so she didn't have to witness my meltdown when I looked through the bags she packed for me. Nothing cute or sexy; only black jeans and t-shirts. To her credit, she did pack a lot of silk underthings and my favorite lacey bra that I stole from her.

  "That's my bag." Avery wrapped herself in the last dry towel. "Yours is on the other side of the bed, on the floor." She plucked a short round bottle from the counter and began moisturizing.

  I was already frustrated and sweating. "What if they leave?" The contents of my duffle bag flopped onto the bed. I was sifting through the assortment of denim. Blue, black, acid washed cut-offs . . . "Yes!" My favorite pair of faded Levis; men's, with a button-fly. They were tight, but there was still room for my butt. They hung low on my hips. I slipped into them, feeling the soft material mold itself to me.

  "Wear this, too." Avery extended a finger, on which rested a long black tank top. It had the bands initials stenciled on the front in red puffy paint. I liked it because the curve of the letters made my boobs look bigger.

  "Thanks." I grabbed and tossed it on and got busy on hair and makeup.

  Avery watched and critiqued, humming to Soundgarden blasting from the local rock station. The fact that it came in so clearly made me question the usability of the radio in the car since we were short of music nearly the whole way. We listened with hope at hearing the deejay announce anything to do with Analog Controller.

  "There." I tucked a strand of hair back into the knot that was Avery's sloppy bun. We each stared into the mirror, examining one another with approval.

  "You're flawless, but natural." Avery added, "Like you're not expecting to run into anyone. But he'll be happy when you do."

  We both smiled.

  The local radio station was still playing. I turned it up all the way after they mentioned Anemic Psycho's show at The Mystic Muse. It was the first time I heard the tour mentioned on the radio. Then again, Tempe had a bigger scene. I wanted to bust into Analog's room and find my man to tell him, but I promised my friend I'd wait.

  "We drove nearly three-hundred miles to see this band." Avery mused with a wry look. "Better be worth it."

  "Only a little while longer," I was practically hopping with anticipation. "I want Jake to sleep with us, in our room. Is that cool?"

  "Since when have I turned down a chance at having a hot guy in my room?"

  Avery waggled her eyebrows and I laughed.