Chapter Text
Chapter 9: Extraordinary Girl/Letterbomb
“Fang, It’s about that time.”
I lazily gaze up from Anon’s chest as I grogily regard Haley with a light pout. “5 Already? Can I get five more minutes?”
“Not unless you’d like to reschedule.” Haley says through a cheeky smile.
I flopily streatch across Anon’s form, squirming and rolling until I’ve made my point, and perch to my feet. The nurse didn’t bring the chair this time, as the therapy session is taking place just a short walk within the ward. Atleast today’s gonna be a fun one. With Anon bringing my guitar, I can finally play some songs, maybe even get some practice in if we’re done early. Oh! I could even pair up some chords to my new stuff I wrote. I grin at the thought of sending Anon home with music to practice, like some sort of homework. Call me the f*ckin’ professor.
Before I know it, I find myself walking back through no-man’s-land toward’s Dr. Gonzales’s office. It takes no time at all to find the space, and after a quick dismissal of Haley, I head inside.
The space itself is relatively barren, not at all like the dramatizations on TV. There’s a lack of bookshelves, pipe smoke, and the ornate, comfortable chair the patient’s usually plopped in. Instead, there’s a cloth couch, a coffee table, and another couch facing eachother. In the middle sits a few coasters for patients to place drinks, and an ornate, wooden Chess board made of the same tone of wood as the furnishings. The walls itself are the same light seafoam color as the rest of the ward, though it contains a few wall hangers presenting paintings, with one containing a collection of rorshaks. On the floor sits an ornate burgundy rug, and the whole space smells of the same lavender as my room. One of the couches contains the pleasant mug of my therapist, holding a large stack of papers on a clipboard. Next to her lies the case of my Martin D-18 Acoustic, and next to that sits a few soft-bound textbooks. If it’s anything like the Plumage doctor, they’re for showing off what crazy bitch disorder I’ve got in a beautiful technicolor form-factor.
Dr. Gonzales is first to speak, adopting a cordial, yet professional tone. “Good evening, Fang.”
“Heya. Ready for some music?”
She giggles at that. “I could ask the same. Did you do your homework like I asked?”
I gesture at the case as I cross the space to plop down on the adjacent couch. “I brought the guitar, didn’t I?”
“That you did. Though I mean, the Lyrics. Did you write them?”
I pause, my face going red as I realize that, No, I didn’t do the work. “I have the lyrics here, in my head.”
“I had intended to study them while you were singing, but no worries. I’ve got a backup.” She says, pulling a small box from underneath her stack of papers. “I’ll record them as you sing them, and we can go line by line.”
Relief washes over me when I see the device, and settle in my chair with a comfortable air as I reach for the guitar case. The leather hard sided container clicks open with ease, revealing easily the most expensive object in the room. I hold the instrument with reverence, gazing over the wood as I check for new knicks and scratches. Nothing appears to the eye, so I move to check the bridge tension and tuning. After a proper setup of the acoustic, I look at the therapist expectantly.
“Okay. We’ll just get right into it, then. We’ll go one song at a time, and talk about it. Is that fine with you?”
I nod, and open my mouth one last time before playing. “Any requests?”
“I am your willing audience, Fang.”
“Okay, fair enough. I suppose this is therapy, so we’ll start with ‘Kettering’ Into ‘Wake Up’.”
With a sigh, I move to the gutiar, and start the quiet, somber rhythm. It was first developed on piano, and produced quite recently for an interlude between songs before getting to the main track. I had thought up some lyrics, but none felt quite right or fair. The tune does well to get me into the mindset of the main track. The song chrechendos from fingerstyle picking to rhythmic strumming of the high notes as I sing an airy chant to finish out the interlude before transitioning right into ‘Wake Up’. The guitar fades to nothing as I lead the lyrics in with a simple, sweet soft howl of my voice, carrying the horrible pain I had felt during that time in my life and rolling it off the tongue and into the air. The opening of the song has my hands quietly strumming the chords as my voice bounces back and forth through the lines as my mind flies back to the roof of Volcano High. Not just the night it was written, but every moment I had spent up there, from the first few years where I had simply enjoyed the view to when I’d use it as a hiding spot from prying eyes as I plucked and plucked my down from my skin. Reflecting on when I’d use my knife-like talons to pry open my flesh and sear the pavement with my plasma. To when I’d sneak in after dark and contemplate using the conveniently body-sized hole in the fence to evenly distribute my lifeforce across the pavement below. My mind climbs now to the beautiful sunrise I shared with Anon, in the moment I realized that I could love again. It climbs to the giddy, explosive laughter I cackled as I chased Anon down the roof and through the school of prospective graduates, sprinting down the front steps as the teachers tried to get our attention. I remember our panting breaths and coughing lungs as we waited a fair distance away for a rideshare to bring us home.
Before I know it, I’m finishing the lyrics of the song as I proudly chant ‘Dont Ever, Let anyone, Tell you, You deserve that’.
When the song ends. I wipe a silent tear from my face and set my guitar side with a dull, proud smile. The psychologist carries a near shocked face at my music, and sits for a moment in awe before speaking. “Wow… That was incredible, Fang. I- I need a moment to take some notes. There’s a lot to take in.”
I reply in a cathartic, warm tone as I set aside my guitar and lean back. “Take your time, doc.”
Doctor Gonzales takes a minute to jot down some thoughts, before going to the recording. She spins back the lyrics a few times to herself as she fills in gaps and writes what I can only assume are observations.
The therapist takes a deep breath before speaking in a professional yet flawed tone. “Okay. Let’s begin. I’m going to play the first few lines, and I want you to speak on them.
I nod, and sit up straight and close my eyes. A click is heard, and my voice is played back over the tinny speakers of the voice recorder.
“With the doors closed, shades drawn, the world shrinks.”
“Let’s open up those blinds.”
“But someone has to sweep the floor, pick up my dirty clothes”
“That job’s not mine.”
The therapist stops the recording, and waits expectantly in silence as I process the verse. “Well, these lyrics are direct in some ways, but sarcastic in another. That first line, about the blinds; I was losing people left and right. I didn’t feel good about it, and didn’t want to feel the pain of losing others, causing me to close myself off in my room, in my own sort of peace. When I had written this, I had met Anon, basically by accident… He’s the voice on the second line, telling me to open up the blinds.”
I take a deep breath as a shiver hits me. “The second half there is sarcastic. Anon had come over to my house very early in our most recent relationship- ehh- sorry, for context, me and Anon were a thing in High School, we broke up over something stupid, and we got back together early last winter… Anyway, It’s sarcastic, as Anon came over to my house and, I thought he’d be disgusted, and run off at the first sign of what my apartment looked like. He just smiled, and grabbed a trash bag. I ended up basically watching him from the corner as he cleaned up my whole house just so we could sit down and hang out… It- It was the nicest thing anyone had done for me in a very long time.”
The therapist nods and speaks a non-response. “And you feel guilty that you didn’t do it yourself. I see… It seems that Anon was really a highlight in helping you in your mental health.”
“Of course, he’s the guy who got me into the ward. He probably saved my life on a few occasions and I just didn’t know it. I’d- f*ck, give me a moment.” My mood sours as I reflect on my past, taking a moment to weld my eyes shut and breathe deeply while grasping firmly at my thighs.
“Take your time.”
In a second it passes, though leaving me slightly shivering.
“I’d probably be dead in an alley somewhere if it werent for him. Instead, I’m- f*ck. I played infront of thousands. I’ve rekindled my relationship with my brother, my parents, my best friend, Trish.”
I pause for a second to wipe the quiet tears that have drawn themselves from my face. I can’t dry my face fast enough, and end up falling into my hands as I cover my face and speak through my fingers.
“So, yes, he’s a f*cking highlight.”
“Thank you for sharing. Are you willing to move onto the next passage?”
“One second.”
“Take your time.”
A moment passes by in this state as I clear my mind, and think of happy memories as a way to recalibrate. Once my breathing settles, I finally wipe the last of the tears away, and look at the psych with a renewed passion. “Okay, let’s do this. I didn’t think it’d be this hard to explain the lyrics.”
“They come from the heart. Nothing that comes from the heart is easy to explain.”
“You can say that again.”
With that, the psych presses the button on the next four lines. My voice rings once again in a raspy, shaky sheen that nearly immediately sinks my heart back to tears.
“Now that everyone’s an enemy, my heart sinks”
“Let’s put away those claws”
“I don’t blame them for the curtain-calls ‘cause I pulled the rope”
“I wanna call them back out for applause”
I nod, and breathe deeply as I speak in an exhasperated tone. “It’s more of the same as last time. People were leaving me to rot, giving up on friendships with me, and I resented them for that. My parents, brother, friends, Anon. After a while I had realized that I was a driving force behind it, I was pushing people away, and giving up on them, that’s that third line there.” I stop, and grimace as my gut pangs in discomfort. After a grunt and a moment to myself, I open back up with a slightly resentful tone. “I didn’t blame them for leaving me to rot, cause I abandoned them first. That fourth line meant I wanted them to come and- f*ck, again- give me a second.”
The doc nods, and lets me recalibrate before I open up, singing the next line slowly and methodically in order to focus my mind on the words.. “ ‘I wanna call them back out for applause’... It was me saying I wanted them to come back just to put me down, and berate me for abandoning them. Because the pain of their silence seemed more painful than their leers and jeering voices. I wanted silence, until I got it.”
“You felt like you deserved to be screamed at and berated for your actions? Maybe because you wanted redemption? Some sort of punishment that could serve as a path forward?”
I look up, my heart thumping in my chest as my leg bounced quickly. “What do you mean by that?”
She looks at her pad, and back to me. “Well, it’s a normal response for some who feel they have wronged others to want to be screamed at, to be insulted, and humiliated. It’s natural to think that once the people you think you have wronged have gotten it out, you could move forward with closure and maybe even seek redemption from the people you have wronged.”
“Wow. I- I never thought of that.”
“It’s just a consideration. I want you to think on what I said on that line and do some writing on it before our session tomorrow. Are you willing to do that?”
“Yes. I- I can do that.”
“Excellent. Are you ready to move to the next section?”
“Yes.”
She nods, and clicks the tape. Once again, my voice rings clear while the guitar sits dimly in the back of the soundscape.
“Spring and Thompson on the first of May is horrible.”
“We hid in catacombs”
“So now i’m sleeping next to mousetraps in a bed of all our clothes”
“While I’m Hoping that she won’t come home.”
The shrink looks up from her pad, question loaded and primed. “Before we start, Fang, I was wondering if we could talk about who ‘She’ Is, in this song, Is this you?”
Her words pierce my gut like grapeshot, tearing a hole wide open and forcing images of somebody I once knew.
Jane.
A bedroom door Slams open as an old friend calls out from the passageway.
Lucy! Please tell me you have NARCAN!
I grimace, and freeze in place, my body tensing up as my heart races. The reassuring words of the shrink are drowned out by a form of buzzing as my vision blurs. Her form stays stoic in place as I grip my thighs and try to control my panic with deep, slow, deliberate breaths as I try to force the words from my head and replace them with fond memories. The sunset, mount shasta, the burlesque, the stage, come on, come on, hang in there.
Slowly, my breathing calms as my vision clears, the moment passing like a hot wind fading into existance until I'm left simply distraut, and a bit surprised.
Jane. That’s- yeah. That’s a talking point.
“Holy sh*t, that one almost f*cking hurt.” I say, through rough breaths.
She speaks in a concerned, yet firm tone after watching my breakdown. “If you want to be done for today, we can.”
I continue to speak through winded pants as I dismissively gesture at the psych. “No, No, give me a second. I still have words to say.”
She responds in a concerned tone. “Fang, you don’t have to push yourself.”
“f*ck taking this easy, all due respect, Doctor, but I still have words to say.”
She shakes her head, and settles in her chair. “I admire your strength, Fang. I haven’t met many patients like you. Please, whenever you want. I’m here to listen.”
I slouch into my chair, and wipe a tear from my face as I grimace, but finally get my thougths together.
Jane.
“If that thing’s for recording stories, I’d suggest starting it.”
She nods, and quickly changes the recording out for a fresh track. When she clicks the button, I slouch into my seat, and begin.
“The beginning of all this crap started around a year and a half after high school…”
…
My mind wanders as I tell the story of the time I spent with my old roommate. I recall sitting on my black leather couch in a sparingly furnished version of my apartment. I still had my coffee table, and the entertainment center, but nothing was on the walls nor was there a frame adorning my cheap second hand mattress. Jane sat next to me, She was a relatively unassuming grey Ankylosaur with black hair that rested at her shoulders. Her face was adorned with dark makeup, and her wardrobe consisted of dark green cargo pants and colorful T-Shirts. In my memory, her feet were clasped in her favorite pair of sandals.
“What do you think they did before ladders?”
I look up, and find her still staring at her screen.
Jane responds by looking up from her phone, and smiles warmly when she sees my form sitting cross legged on the end of the couch.
“Like, just in general?”
“Were people like ‘Well, can’t fix that sh*t’.”
I giggle, and shake my head as I respond with a simple “Yeah. They had to pile some rocks or something.”
She beams as she speaks in a tone of realization. “Youre right! You gotta keep piling rocks! They’re sitting there like ‘Man, if only there was some sort of invention that could allow me to get up to that place.”
“Must have been when Henry J. Ladder showed up, rocked their f*cking worlds.”
We die laughing at this, and settle into a cordial air from her ice breaker.
“How do I look?”
She smiles cutely and takes a peek up and down my form before speaking with a salacious tone. “Like a proper hard rock goddess, Lucy. Though I’d brighten up the eyes a bit.”
I had just gotten done practicing a guitar solo from an old rock legend from the 60s. At this point, we had just been waiting on a text from Reed for the address to the party. Me and Jane had first met at a similar house party, she loved old Nu Wave music and certain Caldera Bay bands. We had sat down and talked music while we were pretty well at the peak of our intoxication, and hit it off. From there, we had gone to a few more parties together before I brought up my plans to move to a new apartment, away from my parents. She was quick to ask to be my roommate, and from there, we found this place. It had always been pleasant in Jane’s presence. She had been working a couple jobs around town doing anything from janitorial stuff to dealership jobs. She had been sending almost half her money home to her family in southern Mexico in order to keep them afloat while she used the second half to suppourt her meager lifestyle. She was never really into anything harder than weed or alcohol, though on occasion she’d enjoy a dose of Carfe with me.
My phone buzzes, and a quick check of the screen keys me into the location. I smile, and show the screen off to Jane.
Despite her heritage, she spoke in a surprisingly normal accent. “Oh hell yeah, not that far away, either. Are you gonna bring the guitar this time?”
I shake my head. “No, as much as I'd like to. if I start playing, Reed wouldn't let me stop, and I’d rather just enjoy myself.”
She giggles. “Aha, fair, fair. Well, I’ll order a Lyft if you order a bit of dinner at the party.”
“Sounds good to me. Are you ready to go now?”
“Yep.”
“Sweet, let’s get out of here.”
With a nod, I hop to my feet and help Jane up with an outstretched hand. I make one last stop to the bathroom to make sure my makeup is done properly and my hair isn’t tangled before meeting my roommate at the door. She holds it open for me before softly closing the passage with her outstretched tail. I tease her as a showoff before we head down the elevator and into the street. Soon, a grey sedan is there to bring us out to the spot in north Volcaldera. Jane sits comfortably close to me in the backseat as I count the streetlamps that pass, after a swift exit later we’re left infront of a relatively large home with white plastic siding and quietly cut shrubs and poinsettia bushes out front. From the number of cars in the street, I can tell that this is the spot. I walk down the brick path and up the stairs before giving the door my best ‘I’m friendly’ knock. It takes just a moment to open up to the smiling face of Reed, wearing his favorite pair of stutter shades and cheap headphones worn around the neck. He flashed me finger guns, and regards us with a pleasant grin.
“Hola amigos! Lucy, Janet, welcome to el Casa de oro!”
Jane lights up and speaks in her native tongue, grabbing Reed's hand and nearly making him feint from the friendly excitement. “¡Ah! ¡Tu español se ha vuelto bastante bueno! ¡Gracias por invitarnos a tu casa de oro!”
Reed takes a step back and bows as he looks at Jane from the top of his stutter shades. “Es un placer, hermana. Por favor, pasen. Siéntanse como en casa. La fiesta empezará pronto.”
She switches back to English, letting her accent free as her excitement gets the better of her. “Aah! Your pronunciation is almost spot on, too!”
Reed turns towards the main room as he speaks over his shoulder. “Yeah, turns out most of my suppliers prefer ol’ Español. Plus the taco shops always give you so much more if you order in their language.”
I smile, giggle a bit and hold the bridge of my snout as I talk through an exasperated tone. “God, Reed is food and drugs all you think about?”
He turns fully to face me as he starts to walk backwards. “Sometimes it's just food. And sometimes it's all taken up by Rockroid Prime.”
“Oh yeah, you found a new console, didn’t you?” Jane speaks up.
“Yes ma’am, found me a sweet transparent dinocube. Guy wanted 40 bucks for the console plus the pretty swinging pile of games that came with it. Finally got me to turn off my PS2. You two gotta come over after this and play some Mario Party.”
The space was relatively boring, a normal family home, save for the few small bags of drugs sprawled out on the main counter flanked by bottles and bottles of booze. The cover charge for a party like this was around 40 bucks, though it was easily the best price-to-performance you could get for having fun in this town. There were a few people sitting around the space pregaming with beers while Aesop Rock played over the living room’s soundbar. Jane moved to pour herself a drink while I unwound by mixing myself a little dose of Carf.
“Alright Reed, what’s the dose for tonight?” I ask, getting his attention.
“How crazy do you want to go?”
“I dunno, like a four for right now, maybe a seven later.”
“Alright man, we’ll go to 40 miligrams and bump it up a few more later. You still like it how I like it?”
“Yeah, strawberry soda, if you’ve got it.”
Reed smiles, and shoots me finger guns “You’ve got it, sister. Coming right up.”
“Thanks man.”
Reed nods, and grabs an unassuming bag of white powder before heading off to the kitchen. I call out to him as he walks, causing him co*ck his head.
“How much do I owe you?”
“Eh? We’ll call it even for that couch you helped me move last week.”
I blink. “What? I barely helped it up a flight of stairs.”
“Yeah? We’ll it’s exactly where I want it. So don’t worry about it. Consider it an exchange of goods for services.”
My skin flushes from the kindness. “Well, f*ck, okay. Thanks man. I appreciate it.”
Reed grabs a 2 liter of soda from the fridge and pours it in a tall glass. “Anytime ami-go. Thanks for coming out!”
After a swift measurement, he pours the dust in the top and stirst it around until it’s all but dissolved. I approach the counter as he slides the glass over, and produces his own co*ked up mixture. Jane’s quick to join in on my side of the counter, and we all raise our glasses to a pleasant saturday night in the warm summer of volcaldera.
That was the highlight of the night.
I had started drinking hard after the Carfe settled in, leading me to puke my cheaply procured dinner into a kitchen trash can while the quickly gathering crowd cheered me on. A fake smile adorned my face as I excused myself to the bathroom, from there I took a moment to recalibrate and shoe away errant thoughts and voices before washing my mouth out with water and heading back into the main room. Me and Jane shared a cigarette out back as we talked about anything and everything. After the cigarette was gone, I lit another while Jane excused herself to head into the party. I had my eyes on a particularly cute Pterosaur guy inside. I didn’t know his name but… I wanted to learn.
I took a redose, and invited myself along with the lean pterosaur upstairs to enjoy our presence together. He was happy to accompany me, following the lead of my hand on his wrist. The door closes behind me as the mix of intimacy, synthetic opiates, booze, and nicotine begins to flush my skin and send my head into a whirl. We kissed, and landed on the bed, though I never made it any farther than having my shirt removed as I heard the quick pattering of feet on stairs, heading in my direction. A ferocious knock nearly beats down the door, standing as the only warning I had to get decent before it swung open, presenting the startled and ruffled form of Reed.
“Lucy! For the life of me, tell me you brought NARCAN!”
I shoot up and throw on my shirt. “What the f*ck do you mean!”
Reed shakily grunts and grabs me by the shoulders, shouting through my swimming, intoxicated psyche with words I prayed that I’d someday forget.
“It’s f*cking Janet! She’s- She’s-” Reed leans into my form, tense and shivering in “Oh my god. I’m gonna call an ambulance! I have to-” He trips, and I reach out to catch him. “I gotta flush the-”
Before I can get a word through my frozen terror, he flips around and heads back down the stairs as he starts to shout, first at the other guests of the party, and then at Jane.
I didn’t have any NARCAN.
The ambulance was coming, and for drug overdoses, that meant the cops.
I can’t-
The EMTs will handle it. I have to go.
Now.
I look around, and spot a well placed window that leads to the back yard. Quickly, I janked the window open and thrusted myself out. I had a soft landing on a bush, which allowed me to quickly roll to my feet. A quick glance later, I found myself hopping two or three or four wooden fences, distancing myself from the house. At some point I found myself on the sidewalk as a set of emergency vehicles dash past me, lights and sirens and engines screaming.
I pull out my phone, quickly shoot off a message to Jane’s phone, and pocket it before ordering a rideshare back to skin row.
I’ll be at home. Please message me when you can.
I take a moment to calm down, my surprise turning to anger as I realize that Reed must have f*cked up the measurements. He f*cking overdosed her. My stomach fills with disgust at the thought of the raptor as I whip out my phone, and quickly move to block Reed’s number, and go through and make sure he’s wiped from my various socials.
Once she’s out, she’ll probably do the same. We’ll find someone else to hang with.
The car pulls up, as I spend the rest of my night in cold, shivering silence as I’m propelled back to our apartment, and left to wait patiently for a message from my roommate.
A text message that would never come.
…
When I’m finished with my story, I’m left laying on the couch, with my wings draped over my form as I clutch my forearms tightly. The psych looks intently for signs of preening, though I simply sit suffering and shivering as tears flow down my face.
“She died that night. She was just f*cking 19.”
“That’s horrible that you had to go through that, it wasn’t your fault.”
I curl up a bit more and mumble a response. “I know, but if I just had something to give her, she might have still been here. We didn’t know eachother for very long, but she was one of the nicest, kindest friends I could have asked for. I even-” I’m cut off by a cough and a sob as I force myself to spit out my next sentence. “I even considered going out on a few dates with her, y’know? I’ll never get that.”
“It’s not your fault, Fang.”
I unfurl my wings and shoot up. “I f*cking ran! I was a coward, jumping out a f*cking window thinking she’d be fine! I knew they sold that stuff over the counter at a place down the road. It would have taken me five minutes to grab a bottle and get back there. Reed was too busy flushing his meager party supply down the toilet while I was-” I cut myself off as my mind begins to fire at a rapid pace, moving left and right and up and down as I feel my brain short circuiting as lightning fast memories, good, bad and ulgy all appear in parallel.
The only friends I had from that life are dead. It's as if a part of me died with them, too.
I shrug to my feet, and awkwardly outstretch a hand to the psychiatrist.
“Thank you for your time, but I’d prefer if I went back to my room now.”
The psych nods, and returns my handshake. “If you want anything at all, Fang. Please don’t hesitate to ask.
Fang. The name I re-adopted when Anon first saw me. It felt so good to be seen as someone other than Lucy. A name that I had run from, and then embraced again when it was convenient to my psyche.
I haven’t changed. Lucy had died twice, once in high school, and once when Jane went.
I blink my eyes and find myself in my room, staring at Anon. I avert his gaze as his worried eyes make me disgusted. My feet silently move towards my twin mattress as I set myself on top of the pristinely made bed.
The voices are dead silent in this moment, and what remains are my own horrible thoughts.
______________________________________Anon__________________________________________
It’s a quick, road rage filled journey back to skin row. I sat in the driver’s seat of the lexus fuming to myself as Fang’s words rattled through my head.
Don’t go after him.
I trust Fang. I trust her. I don’t know the whole story. It seems there’s only two people who know it.
I need to talk to Reed. Just talk. f*ck. Okay, okay, the bar. I need to meet him there.
At a stoplight, I open my phone and find a few leftover text messages. A couple from Trish, complaining about how sh*tty she feels, and how she might not be around tomorrow, before following up with a simple ‘I’ll let you know’. Then one from Reed, who’s messaged me with a cordial air.
Sup amigo, got a new game for DinoCube if you want to come over and play it. Ever tried Twilight Princess?
Please meet me at the pizza tavern in 20 minutes
Elipses flash and disappear before reponding with a simple
You’ve got it.
With a huff, I toss my cellphone in the center console before turning onto the vascular street towards the apartment. Quickly, I park my car, lock the door, and head briskly down the street towards the bar. There’s a different guy at the counter tonight, A human who’s badge proclaims their name as ‘Johnny’. He’s bald like- oh, not like me. Anyway, he’s bald, with a scraggety goatee and strong face with biceps of nearly rippling muscles. He smiles when he sees me enter, and welcomes my stern mug to the establishment.
“Dining in, tonight. I’ll take a booth by the bathroom, please.”
“No problem, Anything to drink?”
“Yeah, Vodka soda, and I’ll take a pizza for the table.”
“Sounds good. Opening a tab tonight?”
“Yes, please.”
With that, he leads me into the tavern and sets me down near the stage as I sit facing the door. A quick trip later, he’s deposited one fresh vodka soda, which I greedily drink down as I wait on the man of the hour. My eyes stay glued to the door in an apprehension as my mind wanders on things to ask, or to say.
‘Hey, did you try trading a blowj*b for drugs?’
‘Hey, why did Fang say she killed you?”
I perk up as I see a bundle of salmon flavored feathers poke through the door of the tavern. “Oh, there’s the bastard now.”
I take a deep breath, look in the bottom of my glass, and wonder about buying another drink as he talks to Johnny. Though I dont have that kind of window, as he quickly turns and points to me in the corner. Reed approaches me with about as much anxiety as I’m used to feeling, and stands for an awkward second as I keep my eyes glued to him. He sighs, and sits down in silence. A moment passes as my eyes dart between his own, and down to his hands, which sit clasping the table.
Reed’s first to break the silence. “Hey amigo, did you put on cologne or something? Smells good, whatever it is.”
“It’s lavender. From Fang’s room in the mental ward.”
Reeds eyes go wide at my words, and he tenses up as his breathing heightens. “Jesus man, is she alright?”
“No. She’s not. I’ve asked you to come here… I want to talk. Just a bit of context.”
His face grimaces as I seemingly confirm his suspicions.
I squeeze out my words from a place of fury, taking my time to enunciate each word individually “Why did Fang try to kill you? What the f*ck happened.”
Something glasses over in his eyes as he sharply enhales and grabs hold of the table with such force that it causes the damn thing to creak, he’s back in a moment, breathing heavily as tears try to poke from his irises. I give him a moment as I stare at him with a heavy scowl.
He stammers out his last sentence as if he forgot how to speak. “It- It- It was my fault.”
I gesture my hand to get him to keep talking. “Well, that’s a start. What else?”
Reed’s eyes meet my own as they snap into a brutal fear that I hadn’t seen before. But he continues on, speaking in a strained tone. “It- f*ck… It was the first time I had seen her in months. She cut contact with me a year and a half ago after-” He pauses again, and closes his eyes as he grunts and mumbles to himself.
I jut an outstretched finger at his chest. “You’re not making me feel bad for you, keep f*cking talking.”
He doesn’t respond. Though after a moment, he slumps in his chair, defeated and staring listlessly past me. He wipes his tears with his forearm before speaking softly, and aimlessly.
“Lucy, Janet, and I- We were at a party, A party I threw at a friend’s house… It happened so fast, I turned one moment, and the next- I-”
Another mental flare up, more glassy eyes and mumbling as he stares off with wild eyes. He pauses for a great moment as he suddenlly starts to look around erratically, breathing heavily as his face shows a complete dissociation and confusion, one that strikes a spike through my heart as I recognize the scared, confused look of Fang, if only for just a moment. It sets off my anxiety for just a second as I reach out and quietly grab his arm, and try to get his attention. His eyes lock with mine, somewhat surprised at my presence as his breathing catches, and his eyes settle.
He speaks between heavy breaths in a panicked tone. “Anon? Oh f*ck, Anon, it’s you. Give- Give me a second man.”
He breathes out a few more times before settling in, his feathers ruffled and standing on end. After one last breath, he settles in, and stares at me listlessly.
“Lucy-” He catches himself, and grunts as he tries again. “Fang, Janet, and I- we were all in the same friend group, going to house parties. She- She died in my arms from an overdose. I was mixing up a drink for her, and she decided to take a half spoonful. She was drunk- really drunk, didn’t know what she was doing, took enough Carfe to kill a T-Rex. She was out on the ground, puking, the EMTs weren’t fast enough. I didn’t see Lu- Fang- I didn’t see Fang after that, It shattered our friend group. I started using heavily. Really, really heavily. I didn’t know what was going on most of the time. One day, I saw Fang walking by, and- I saw my chance. I wanted things to go back to the way they were, house parties, rock shows, having my own place to live, and when I saw her, I tried my best to just have her come hang out, do some Carfe like the good days, before it all shattered. I didn’t know she was-”
“You didn’t know she was clean, did you ask?”
“f*ck no! I wasn’t thinking. I pushed hard, really hard, and it-”
He grimaces, and reaches up to pull down his shirt, and points to a few long, thin lines running down his neck and to his chest. He skillfully points out each and every little scar on his front side.
“She put me in the hospital for almost 4 months. She took what little money I had, and if my parents didnt have me insured still, I’m not sure what would have happened. It was my fault.”
“She said you tried to trade favors for favors. Do you understand how f*cked that is?”
He looks at me with his mouth agape for a moment as he thinks on my words. Suddenly, he shakes his head. “Jesus f*ck, I didn’t mean it like that!”
“Then how the f*ck did you mean it!” I shout, causing Reed to recoil.
“I- I- I’ve- We’ve-”
“You’ve f*cking what!”
His voice catches traction as he speaks in a quick, staccato tone. “She’s asked for Carfe before, with- without money! She told me she couldn’t buy it! I meant we’d just figure something out! I wanted to just give it to her for free, man, I just wanted someone to talk to, not a prostitute!” Reed sticks his hands out to the side as his defence turns to indignance. “I’d always find a reason to give her stuff if she wanted it! She always wanted to pay for it, I didn’t care about her f*cking money!” Reed slumps in his chair again as he stares at the table defeated. “I just f*cking, I was so lonely, hanging in a sh*tty alleyway with nobody.”
I blink hard and look over to Johnny, and wave him over. I’m quick to order a set of doubles for the table, and pull my vape from my pocket as I look at Reed, my anger diffused and confused with my brutal anxiety as my brain teeters from blame to absolution. I breathe in, and rub my eyebrows as I take a pull from my vape, and exhale while speaking with a defeated tone. “I guess it is more complicated than that.”
