Darker Shades of Fear

(Installment 33)

 

I don't claim to know my way
I still run in circles everyday
Running around half blind
Life can be unkind
But it's better than it was
It's better than it was
I complain very little because
It's better than it was

 

* * *

 

He came to, and for one brief moment his mind was blank and he had no recollection of who or he was or what he had done.  His eyes flickered open, well rested for the first time in years and his head was clear. That second stretched into eternity but was over entirely too soon as consciousness settled in and he was immediately sick.

His stomach churned and he was overcome with a paralyzing sensation of dread.  He knew what he was and what he had done and what was left to do.  He had chosen this fate and now had no choice but to embrace it. 

He didn’t want to.

What he really wanted to do was to go back to bed and wake up somewhere new, as someone else.  To not remember this life, nor his old one, and just start over.

Like last time?

‘I just want this to be over.’

So do I, but I’m afraid things won’t be so easy.

‘Nothing ever can be simple, can it?’

Not for you, I’m afraid.

‘Were things ever remotely simple?  Did I ever have a grip on my goddamn life?’

Define “grip”.

‘That’s what I thought.’  Kenny sighed and rolled over onto his back, ‘Why aren’t you yelling at me?’

There’s nothing I can do.  There was never anything I could do.   I tried to help but my intervention proved useless.  I’m going to try to salvage what’s left of you before this hits the fan, because believe me, we haven’t seen anything yet.

‘What do you mean?’

Please Kenny, you know better than I do that Pezziano is already looking for you.  I’m sure one of his guys followed you back here after you left his house.  He’s not stupid and he’s certainly not forgiving and you are not in any kind of position to receive his mercy.  This man isn’t some two-bit gambler or smuggler or petty thief.  He’s a criminal and a murderer and this is the kind of shit he lives for.

‘He’s kind of like me, then.’

A lot like you, at your worst.

‘Guess I should be scared.’

You can’t be scared if you’ve got nothing to lose.

It had a point.  It was only once a man has lost everything that he becomes free to do anything.  Old words from a book he’d once read.  Whether he lived or died was really no matter.  He was bound to die anyway, a miracle he’d survived this long living the way he did.  He had lived a full life as far as he was concerned, and it would be no shame if it were to end prematurely.  He’d probably be doing more good by throwing in the towel and resigning himself to the fate he had chosen.  He had danced with death before figured it was high time to resume the tango.

‘This is what I have to do.’

At this point, I can’t argue with you.  He’ll find you wherever you go, in whatever you do.  You’re not safe anymore, from yourself or from him.  I tried to help you, I really did. 

It sounded regretful, as if it really didn’t agree with anything but was stuck along for the ride anyway.

‘I… I’m sorry this happened.’ He offered.  In a way, he really was.

Why are you sorry?  This was your choice.

‘I know.  But I disappointed you.  And I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you hoped for.  I’m sorry I didn’t listen.’

It sighed.  It’s not about me.  I know you don’t like where things are headed, I know you wish you had done otherwise, and believe me, I wish I could help.  I wish you had seen me as a part of yourself instead of some disembodied voice; maybe you might have listened then.

Kenny in all honesty did not know how to respond.  Hearing this was doing noting to strengthen his resolve.  What he really wanted was to go back to bed and sleep the rest of his life away.  He offered a pathetic attempt at a laugh. 

‘Have I ever really done the right thing?  It feels like my whole life has been one bad decision after the other.’

Well, you’ve never done anything exceptionally righteous but you were a good person.  Deep down, a part of you still is.  You wouldn’t have been able to love Leah like you did if you were all bad.  You were never blessed with fortunate circumstances.  You did what you could with what you had, up until a certain point.

‘That point would be where Salantino and Pezziano came in, right?’

Absolutely.

‘Talk about going full circle.’

True story.

‘I wonder why Salantino was listed.  If I hadn’t seen his name none of this would have happened.’

Of course he was listed.  After being convicted for all that shit don’t you think it would look suspicious if he didn’t have his name in the phone book? Even if it was the wrong number and address, he couldn’t look like he was intentionally hiding.  He was shady and the police knew it, he has a record.  What better way to throw them off by giving the image of a normal, upstanding citizen?

‘Fair enough.’

You know all this, Kenny.  Why do you ask me?

‘I think you know the answer to that.’

This is true. 

‘So why do I need to explain?’

Because I think admitting it will help.

‘Wait – if you’re just the embodiment of my internal subconscious, I’m really trying to convince myself to do something my conscious mind doesn’t want?’

Big words there, Captain.

He sighed.  ‘I’m talking with myself.  You’re me.  I’m you.  So basically, part of me is speaking through the voice I assigned you.’

Bingo.

‘What part would that be?’

The part you’ve forgotten about.

‘You’re me before the crazy?’

In a way… It exhaled.  It’s hard to explain.

‘I want to understand.  Maybe if I know where you came from and why you’re here in the first place, I can understand myself.’

Understanding yourself is going to take years of therapy and God only knows what else.  What that man told you were brief and vague snippets of a very intense history that you’re not ready to accept or handle.  I know you’re trying, Kenny, and I’m not berating you for it.  Do you remember when I first started talking?

‘Do I remember anything nowadays?’

Point taken.  It was after you saw that blonde girl snorting painkillers in front of a liquor store.  You remembered feelings, decided to get shitfaced.  You tried some introspection, and I showed up.

‘I didn’t like you very much at first.  No offense.’

None taken.  I was kind of a bastard.

‘We can both be that way.’

This is true.

‘I have a question.’

Shoot.

‘Which one of us is the real me?  If I were to wake up completely sane and stable and all that, who would I be?  Would you wake up in my body and would I be gone?  Where would I go if I did?’

One question at a time, Daniel Dennet.

Kenny smiled.  ‘I was pretty smart, eh?’

Yeah, you were.  You still are.  But as to your earlier questions, about which of us is “real”, I’d say that we’re both real.  I don’t think I’m a separate entity from you.  I’m just certain thoughts vocalized in a way that allows you to focus.  People debate in their heads all the time.

‘Somehow, I doubt people do this.’

Maybe not to this extent, but certainly they do.  One thing says “do this” and another “do that”.  I think a “sane and stable” you would be minus the violence and aggression, losing time, and such.  I think without that, you wouldn’t have to rely on me so much.  Thoughts would move easier. 

‘Maybe once all this is over I’ll give it a shot.’

I will never understand why you pick now to be optimistic.

‘I do have a knack for bad timing.’

That you do.

A beat of silence passed between them and Kenny sat quietly on the edge of the worn motel bed. 

‘This is the calm before the storm, isn’t it?’

Why don’t you go out and enjoy yourself.  It’s been a long time since you’ve relaxed in a remotely social setting.

He felt his heart fall just a little.  It was too kind to say so but Kenny knew that his question had been answered and affirmed.

‘I’m going to lose it again.  I’m going to lose my mind again.’

Come on, we don’t know that.  Nobody can know that.

‘Since when do you censor yourself to make me feel better?’

Does it matter?  Just take my advice and go have some fun.  Try to forget everything and have a good time.

‘I don’t want to forget I –’

Kenny!  Go to the bar, hustle some pool, put a quarter in the jukebox and play Promised Land a few times.  Relax a little.  Go play some piano.

‘…You think they’ll have Promised Land?’

They don’t call him the King for nothing.

 

The bar was more crowded than usual.  Music was playing louder than he was accustomed to.  Probably a weekend, or something.  Fuck if he knew.  He went over to the jukebox and to his surprise, they had exactly what he was looking for.  He grinned and selected two tracks before claiming his spot at the bar.

“You’re looking better.”  Observed the bartender.

“Thanks.”

“You pick this?”  He asked as a familiar tune pulsed through the speakers.

“I was surprised to see you had some Elvis in there.”  He said, motioning to the jukebox.

“Always room for the King in my bar.”

Kenny laughed.  “Amen to that.”

“What can I get you tonight?  The usual?”

He considered his options and decided to go with his customary glass of gin.  “Yeah.  That’d be great.”

“You got it, kid.”

Kenny hummed the tune of Blue Suede Shoes as he waited for his drink.  The bartender set it in front of him but Kenny didn’t drink it right away.  “How’s life?”  He asked.

The bartender was a little surprised.  “Same shit, different day.  Yours?”

“Don’t wanna think about it.”

“What’s going on?”

Kenny sighed with a smile, “Didn’t I just say I don’t wanna think about it?”

“Yeah.  But you know damn well you’re not leaving this bar without telling me.”

Kenny took a drink, “Anybody ever tell you it’s not nice to be nosy?”

“Many a time.  Now explain.”

Kenny feigned annoyance, but he was thrilled to know that someone on this miserable wretch of a planet cared about his welfare.  “I might have gotten myself in some trouble with a bad man.”

“What kind of trouble and how bad a man?”

“Remember that dealer you told me about?  Joe Pezziano?”

His face dropped.  “Jesus Christ.”

“He’s far from it.”

“I know – shit, kid… how bad is it?”

“Oh it’s bad.”  He replied, “It’s all kinds of bad.”

“Any specific kind of bad?”

Kenny sighed, “I-can’t-buy-myself-asylum bad.”

The bartender ran a hand through his hair and nervousness showed on his face.  “Tell me, so I don’t give myself an ulcer worrying.”

“Would you rather an aneurysm?  Possibly heart attack?”

A stern glance from the bartender and Kenny gave in.

“You know how I told you my memory is shit?”

The bartender nodded.

“That name I gave you, I said I couldn’t remember much about him but I knew he and Salantino were arrested?”

“Go on.”

“So I found out Pezziano was arrested with the other two for drugs, obviously.  Someone went to the police and ratted all three of them out.”

Kenny was looking intently at the countertop and the bartender’s eyes widened.

“Yeah.  I’m fucked six ways from Sunday.”

Silence.

“It was my only option at that point.  Things had gotten so bad… he fucked them over and they wanted to kill him, I was caught in all of it.  They set him up… he had me take the fall.  They came to the hotel and I didn’t have a choice.”

Kenny leaned back and sighed, still not looking up.  He fidgeted with the bottom of his glass and avoided eye contact at all costs.  The silence was unbearable.

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” He said as he exhaled, “Shit indeed.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“Eh.  Probably avoid him as long as I can.”

“And then what?”

He shrugged.  “I don’t know.  Die, probably.”

“Don’t say that.”  He replied stern and serious.

“He doesn’t know it was me just yet.  Maybe he never will.  Right now, I don’t know.  It’s not gonna be easy from here on out.  I’m just trying to enjoy myself tonight before everything goes to hell.”

The bartender sighed.  “Can’t argue with that.”

“Why do you like me so much?”  Kenny asked.  It was a legitimate question.  Why did a complete stranger, who knew all the horrible things he had done, want to befriend him?

“Shit, I don’t know.  You’ve done a lot for me since you started coming around.”

“Before you know it you’ll be telling me you would have liked the son you never had to be like me.” He joked.

“Why not?”

Kenny nearly spit out his drink.  “Why the hell would you want your kid to turn out like me?  I’m a monster!  You know that.  You know what I’ve done and what I do.”

“I know you’re a damn good man when you want to be.  You’re a smartass, no doubt about it.  You’re stubborn, strong willed, and fucked up.”

He laughed.  “You’re right about the fucked up part.  You forgot alcoholic, chain-smoking, emotionally-stunted nymphomaniac who swears like a sailor and, oh yeah, murderer.”

“You know what I mean.  You’re smart, and you don’t take shit from anyone.  I know you’re not a saint, Kenny, believe me.  I think that if I had a son, I would want him to have your personality.  Not your… occupation, I guess.”

Kenny downed the rest of the glass.  “You must see something I don’t.”

“That’s obvious.  Take a compliment.  You’re a good guy to me, for what it’s worth.”

“It’s worth a lot, believe me.”  Kenny said, sliding the empty glass across the counter.  It was filled again and set in front of him.

“Are you gonna be okay?”

“Pssh.  I’ll be fine.”

“You are such a good liar.”

“So I’m told.”

The bartender sighed, “So, besides getting yourself into a world of trouble with a very bad tempered gangster, how have you been since I last saw you?”

“Eh.  You know.”

“How’re your arms looking?”

Kenny looked up and made eye contact.  “They’re fine.  I wasn’t… I wasn’t me when I was doing it.  I know how it sounds, but I didn’t even know about them until you pointed them out.”

He nodded.  “You getting any sleep?”

“Yes, actually.  I still don’t particularly like it.”

“Good.”

Kenny finished his second glass and smiled.  “I’m gonna go play a round of pool.  You know I’ll be back.”

The bartender rolled his eyes and Kenny departed for the billiard tables. 

 

He came to appreciate the crowdedness of the bar once he bought himself in for a round of pool.  Most of the men he beat were just playing for the sake of sport.  Yes, the wanted to win, but it didn’t phase them terribly one way or the other.  He’d earned a very nice amount of money by the time he set down his cue for the night.  The attention he’d gotten by being “the guy who keeps winning” drew in more competitors than he’d expected.  He even bothered to make small talk with a few people just for the sake of it.  It felt like forever since he’d spoken to anyone but himself or the bartender.  It was nice, in a way.  He knew it was all bullshit in the end.  But still, there was no harm in enjoying it for a while.

He’d spoken with a

He returned to his previous place at the bar, got a drink and it went down easy.  Two more and he decided to slow the process up just a bit.  He was in no mood to drink himself sick.  He’d just won a good five hundred dollars and wasn’t about to let alcohol get in the way of his enjoying it.

What he really wanted was to hold onto this illusion for as long as he possibly could.

“How’d it go?”

“Cleaned ‘em out.” He replied with a smile.

“Damn.”

“Told you I played a nice round of billiards.”

“Yes, you did.  What was it that you can’t do again?”

“Waffles.”

The bartender laughed.

“It’s not that funny.”

“Come on, kid.  Of course it is.”

“Nobody’s perfect.”

“I just think it’s… well, interesting that making waffles is the one thing you can’t do.  You can play the piano like nothing I’ve ever heard, you’re an exceptional poker and billiards player, and yet, waffles elude you.”

“Do me a favor and don’t remind me.”

Kenny recalled the fiasco that ensued the last time he had attempted the task.  It was sort of funny but he’d never admit to that.

“I don’t understand why this is so hard for you….” She mused aloud.

“Look, I just can’t do it.  Never could.”

“Did you read the directions?”

He eyed her as if to say I’m not stupid.

“Well, you know… men and directions don’t really go well together.”

“I read the freaking directions!”

She laughed.  “Calm down, Ken.  It’s okay.  We’ll figure it out.”

He sighed.  “Why the hell did we decide to do this anyway?”

“Because you wanted to.  Remember?” She asked, opening the refrigerator.

“Yeah well… I didn’t think you’d take it seriously.”

“Liar.”

He grumbled to himself.

“Does this damage your masculinity complex?”

“What?  No!  Who the hell cares?!  When did this become such a big deal?!”

She laughed. 

“This is not funny.”

“Yes it is.” She replied, still laughing.  “Oh please, Kenny.  You have to admit that it’s just a little bit amusing.”

“A little, maybe.  Not nearly as comical as you’re making it seem.”

“That’s because I’m watching it.”

“God woman, will you let it go?!”

Her laughter continued.

He sighed and rolled his eyes.  “What now?”

“You’re so funny.”

“I really don’t see how.” He replied, crossing his arms.

“It’s… you’re so sensitive about such a stupid thing!”

“I’m not sensitive about it!”

“Oh please.”

“What?  I’m not!”

Kenny’s childish protests only encouraged her fits of laughter.

“Leah, I swear to God.  This is the most retarded thing we’ve ever done.”

“I’m having fun!”

“You would.”

“Oh, and what’s that supposed to mean?” She asked, eyeing him.

“I think you know what it means.”

“Oh cut the enigmatic bullshit.”

“It’s true.” A smile graced his lips.

“Yeah, well you’re the one getting all worked up over his complete ineptitude.”

“I am not inept!”

“Fine.  Kitchen-related ineptitude.”

“I cook just fine!  You never complained before!”

She sighed.  “You SUCK at making waffles!”

“It’s not my freakin fault.”

“Kenny, who the hell can you blame?”

“Fuckin waffle mix.”

“Why don’t you write the cooperation?  ‘Dear Aunt Jemima, I am writing in regard to a defect in your waffle mix.  Even though I followed all the steps accurately, I still could not produce anything remotely resembling a waffle.  Please compensate the damage this has caused to my girlfriend’s kitchen’.”

“Oh shut up.”

“Please.  You’re not the only one who gets to enjoy being sadistic around here.”

“Touché.”

“You know I’m kidding.” She said, hugging him.

“I know.”

“It was pretty funny, though.”

“Can we forget about the waffle fiasco?”

“I mean, when the waffle maker exploded, and everything went flying…”

“Leah…”

“And that small kitchen fire”

“Leah…”

“And when you got electrocuted.  I mean at the time I was terrified but now, It’s kinda funny… you had this look on your face I wish I had a camera-”

“Leah!” He interrupted loudly.

“How are you feeling, by the way?”

“I’m fine.”

“Sure you don’t wanna go to the hospital?”

“Positive.”

“Okay.  Hey, at least you didn’t lose your hair.  This kid I knew in college stuck his fingers in an electrical outlet and he went bald in patches, so he had to shave his head.”

“That was some useful information.”

There was a beat of silence.

“C’mon… you know it was funny when the waffle maker exploded.”

“If I say yes, will you let me live this down?”

She laughed.  “Boy, you’re never gonna live this down.  Ever.”

“It’s not even that funny!”

“Well I don’t think the time I rear-ended that car full of Army Personnel was funny, but you seem pretty keen on making sure I never forget it.”

Kenny smiled.  “That was pretty funny.”

“Oh shut up.”

Kenny laughed.  “And they all came out of the car and you started to hyperventilate…”

“It was the Army!”

He continued to laugh.

“Yeah, well, you owe me a new waffle maker, Mister.”

“I can do that.”

“You better.”

“Well, what if I don’t?”

“I’ll never, ever sleep with you again.”  She replied slow and serious.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Kenny kissed her.

“Ready?” She asked.

He smiled, “ I’m always ready, baby.”

“Good.  Go get your shoes.”  She said, walking into the foyer.

“Wait – what…”

“Williams Sonoma.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No waffle maker, no sex.”

“I didn’t think you were serious!”

“I was quite fond of that particular appliance.”

“But – I – Leah…” He whimpered.

She laughed.  “C’mon.  I wanna get one of those things with changeable molds.”

“I can’t believe this.”

“Don’t forget your wallet.”

 

Kenny zoned back into reality.  He wasn’t sure if he’d fallen asleep or not, but he’d definitely drifted out of focus for a while.  It was difficult not to have done so, under the circumstances.  They’d been going at it since they’d gotten back from the kitchen accessory store and God only knew when that was.  That waffle maker had definitely cost him but he didn’t mind so long as she intended on rewarding him like this.  He smiled to himself and rolled onto his back.  He was surprised to find that Leah was out of bed already.  He found her in the kitchen, dressed in a rather amusing combination of a pair of his boxers and a bra.

“What?”

“Nothing.  I was looking for those the other day.”

“They were in the laundry.  Fair game.”

He nodded.  “What are you doing up?”

“For starters, it’s four in the afternoon.”

“Good point.”

“And I really wanted to try out my new waffle maker.”

“I never want to hear about waffles again.” He said, sitting at the kitchen table.

Leah set a plate full of the aforementioned breakfast food on the table in front of him.

“Heart shaped?”

“Something new.  Just think of them as lovewaffles.”

“Lovewaffles?  Leah, I think you’ve just reached a new level of lame here.”

“Shut up!”

“And just when I didn’t think that was possible.”

She took a waffle and playfully shoved it in his mouth. “Eat the waffle.”

 

It was a good memory, one he was happy to have.  It made him smile to remember her like that.  He hadn’t thought of her in so long, it seemed, and when he did, he always felt hollow.  He missed her.  He missed her more than he ever thought he could miss someone.  He wanted her here, sitting on the empty barstool next to him.  Wanted to hear her laugh or cry or speak again.  He had long since come to terms with the fact that it was not possible and he would have to rely on his memories to keep her around.  It was difficult sometimes, with how faulty he knew it to be.  But he took it as a good sign that he could remember this, even if it was a stupid, insignificant event.  That a small stimulus was enough to make him to remember.

“What?”

“Nothing.  Just thinking.”

“You usually don’t smile when you think.”

Kenny laughed.  “Very true.   This would be an exception.”

“Ah.  I see.”

Kenny left a few hundred dollars on bar before he stood up from his seat.  “I’m gonna go make an awful racket on that piano in the back.”

“Feel free.”

Kenny smiled and ventured through the crowd to the back of the bar where he disappeared through the side door and found himself in a room he knew well.

The moon was out tonight, he noticed. It was shining through the only window in the room, giving it a slivery glow.  He lifted the top and blew some dust off the keys before setting into an appropriate position.

He didn’t quite make the “awful racket” he had warned about, and instead created an easily flowing melody.  Slightly staccato, sad but sweet.  It sounded vaguely familiar.  He knew that he had played this piece or something similar to it once.  It had been his own, improvisational then, but now played solely on instinctual responses with each note corresponding to the one he heard in his mind.  His hands moved over the keys effortlessly.  It was a beautiful piece.  The emotion in it was nearly palpable.  He could feel it rising, the solitude and loneliness he’d felt while creating it.

Slowly at first, images flashed in his mind.  Brief glimpses of a memory.  He had the opportunity to stop, to ignore it, to suppress it and move on.  He knew he should have.  He just didn’t have it in him to fight anymore.  He was at war with a very dangerous man, someone he could barely recall, and to throw himself into that equation was too much. Couldn’t keep fighting everything that had happened.  Maybe it would drive him crazy.  Maybe it would be his saving grace. He couldn’t know and there was no way to be sure.  He sighed quietly as the memory surfaced completely.

 

Bathed in blue shadows, hands pressed down on ivory keys, producing a staccato but fluid melody.  Its sweet, but sad tune filled the small club.  He never had to write music beforehand, and that was one thing he was grateful for.  Tonight, though, he found himself unable to appreciate this gift, much less anything else.  His hands wandered around the keyboard at their own will, telling the story he kept so secret.  Each note explaining an intimate detail, blending together into one unmistakable autobiography.

He closed his eyes as this haunting melody washed over him.  He felt like a pilling in the tide, waves gently ebbing toward the beach, sometimes completely consuming it.  He was not sure that he liked it.  Fixed in place, no allowance for freedom or motion.  Bound to the sea, victim to the tide.  As much as he tried to believe that he was in control, he knew that was the farthest thing from the truth.  He knew because he was still sitting here, playing the piano, living out of a motel in the cheap side of town with the ghost of someone he had once loved. 

A discordant, but not unpleasant crescendo sounded unexpectedly as his previous train of thought hit a nerve.  He hated to think about it, about what would happen when he left for the night…. He’d take the long way home again, walking as slowly as he could, almost as if avoiding it – which he was.  He would push the door open and find the passed out form collapsed in bed, if he’d even made it that far.  He would shake his head and sigh in the doorway before brokenheartedly picking the other off the floor and into bed, or check for something as simple as a pulse.  Sallow skin and dark ringed eyes would serve as a reminder of this imminent degeneration and he would turn away, sickened.  He would remember a time when they were happy... oh, how miserable they had thought they were.  In juxtaposition, there was no contest.  The bad days now looked beautiful.  They had been scared, but they had each other.  There was friendship and so much more.  There was strength.  Now there was nothing.  Nothing but decay and misfortune and death.  Death had been such a game to them.  In a way, it still was.  He watched as the other tempted it every day.  What made him sick was that sometimes, he caught himself wishing that maybe, just maybe he would lose.

Eyes still closed, he wanted to scream.  For so many reasons, he wanted to bellow at the top of his lungs until his throat ruptured.  Instead, he closed his mouth and kept silent, allowing the music to scream for him as melodically as it would.

 

The house lights went down, leaving in the darkness a very confused, tormented young man.  He sat in the darkness for what could have been hours, crying through music and tears until his fingers gave out and so did his heart.  Slumping forward on the pianist’s bench, he held his head in his hands and realized the sheer hopelessness of it all.

 

Opening the door, he shook his head with a sigh at the sight of the dark-haired man lying passed out on the motel floor.  His heart sank as he entered the room, shutting it behind him and carefully lifting the other off the floor and into the bed.  He caught sight of the pistol on the nightstand, wondering why it was out of the drawer.  He realized that he didn’t care so much... it kind of seemed appropriate.  He observed the scene and noted that the gun really did make Clark look nicer... and he hated it.

“I’m fine, Kenny, I swear.”

“Just forget it.  You’re right.  Sorry I asked.”

“C’mon.  Don’t you trust me?”

“... Of course I do.”

With one last glance at his friend, Kenny knew he had lied.

 

He didn’t feel nauseas or sick to his stomach once it ended.  He just sighed and kept playing.  There were going to be more of these, and he might as well get used to them.  It bothered him significantly that he still felt the emotions associated with that memory, but there was nothing he could do. 

He’d tried so hard.  Saw it coming, wanted to stop it, but there was only so much he was capable of.  He couldn’t have stopped Clark in the same way that Clark couldn’t have stopped him.  Granted, the circumstances were different and both of them were even more so.  Kenny was naive, but Clark was ignorant.

He knew why he remembered heroin.

He knew why he hated it so much.

“Hey Ken… are you okay?”

He was silent, sitting still on the bed hugging his knees.  He was wrapped in blankets and had not spoken since the night before.

He shook his head no. “I’m not doing that again.  Never.”

“Calm down, it’s no big deal, Ken.  Nobody said you had to.”

Kenny shivered.

“How do you feel?” He was worried.

“I feel sick.”

“You’ve thrown up three times so far and not on purpose.  You just need to rest.  And relax.”

He flinched.

“You’ve got to calm down.”

“I know.”  He breathed, “I know.”

Clark lit a cigarette, and Kenny instantly recognized it wasn’t filled with tobacco.  “Want some?”

“No, please… no more.” It was almost a whimper.  “I’m sick of it.  I don’t like those people, and I don’t like the drugs.”

“Kenny, this is harmless.”

“I don’t care.  I know that.  I – just – right now, it’s making me sicker.”  He said, breathing through the rising nausea.

Clark grudgingly put out the cigarette and opened a window.  “Better?”

“… A little.”

“You know I hate it when you’re upset.”

Kenny nodded.  “Please don’t get involved with those people anymore.”

“Don’t let ‘em bother you.  Some of them are real assholes.  The junkies are the ones you’ve gotta watch for.  Jack and Joey are all right.”

“I don’t like either of them.”

“You don’t know them.” He replied, a little defensively.

“Neither do you.”

Clark looked at him, a little shocked.

“Jack is just your dealer and splits your money with Joey.  You’re buying what they’re selling.  Of course they’re all right to you.  They keep you coming back, don’t they?”

Kenny certainly didn’t hide his resentment and frustration, and his tone made it even clearer.  “Please just give up the drugs.  I know you like them and it’s just ‘recreation’ or whatever, but… please don’t use them anymore.”

Clark sighed.  “Fine.”

Kenny was visibly relieved.  “Thank you.”

“What, you thought I’d say no?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re my best friend.”

Kenny eyed him, “Is that all?”

Clark smiled and nudged him.  “You know what I mean.  You’re all I’ve got.”

“That’s why I want you to stop.  I can’t be alone.  Not now.  I’m getting better, you know I am, and I don’t think I can do it by myself.”

“I know you are.  How about this: I’ll stop using as long as you don’t cut.”

“Sounds fair.”

Clark smiled.  “We’re going to be fine.”

Kenny returned the expression and tried to believe him.

 

He could remember the cold sweat, the sickness, and the shaking after coming off his first and only heroin high.  He’d never felt more repulsed in his life.  His body told him it wanted to do it again but this was one thing he would never allow himself to do.  It wasn’t euphoric like he’d been promised.  At first it had been.  And then the complete and total loss of control was worse than the time he’d done too much acid.  He felt like he was dying.

It wasn’t the same way for Clark though, and he knew it.  It was why he’d asked him to stop.  He knew right from the beginning that it was going to be bad.  Neither of them had been particularly successful in coping with addiction in the past, so why would something like heroin be any easier?  Kenny’s smoking was out of control since he’d decided he was determined to stop hurting himself.  Just trading one addiction for another, but at least this was better.  All addictions kill.  It was just a matter of how fast.

He wondered briefly how things might have gone if Clark had kept his promise.  They would have gone separate ways eventually.  Maybe.  He had no fucking clue.  It didn’t matter either way.  What happened was over.  He wanted to put it behind him but that was impossible since the past was so closely tied to his future. 

It seemed inevitable.

Everything was going to start coming apart.  He could slowly feel himself coming undone.  It was a matter of time.  He wasn’t sure if he’d make it out alive or not, but he was almost certain that he would win.

It would be an empty victory like so many of his others, but it would be finished at last, all of his loose ends neatly tied and stitched together with the threads he could feel unraveling within him every moment.

He sighed and stood up, closing the top of the piano.  It had been a good night, all things considered.  The most fun he’d had in a long time.  He was content with the course that had been set into motion.

He was ready for hell.

 

 

 

 

©Danielle Lovallo, 2006.

Lyrics © Fastball, Better Than it Was

 

Author’s Note:

Two years.  Happy second birthday to my beloved brainchild.  Surprisingly, BOTH my side-project-one-shots appeared in this one.  Weird.  Enjoy happy!Kenny cause from here on out things are getting much, much worse.  New levels of bad and crazy.  I love the waffle bit.  It makes me laugh every time.  Listened to a lot of weird stuff while writing this one… Elvis, Prize Fighter Inferno, Fall Out Boy, From First to Last… this one clocks in at 23 pages.  Enjoy.