family strong

Family Strong

I'm racing a death clock on someone that I thought I would never see again.

I got the call yesterday from my step-dad, John. I hadn't heard from him or my mother for over three years, so I was very surprised to hear his gravelly, but still somehow familiar voice on the other end. How did he even get this number?

It was hard for me to pay attention to what he was saying, because in my mind the lights were dimming and the stage was being set with the memory of their last visit.

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They breeze through town not quite four years ago, apparently moving to Knoxville,Tennessee, and thought it apt to find me. It had already been two years without seeing them before this meeting, and i had completely written them off. Only a few sentences were uttered during a torturous meal at Flat Branch. After a half-hour of silence my mother stands up, lays two crisp hundred dollar bills on the table, then turns to head out the door, John on her heels like the lap-dog he is. She turns back to the table and leans down by me. I can't meet her eyes. The last thing she said to me was "Have fun working in a warehouse your whole life." She had always been great at motivational speaking. With parents like these, who needs enemies?

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I try to focus back in on John's ramblings, but he's not making much sense. He was my mother's fifth husband, so I had never really tried to get close to him, and now this rambling loser is bothering me at work.

Interrupting his blather, I sigh out "Why are you calling me John? We have nothing to talk about."

"......Jeff..... she's sick. She's real sick and doesn't have much time left. I know this is a lot to ask of you, but she wants you here."

A muffled sob from his end makes this all too real.

"The doctors say it could be any day, and your mom really wants and needs to see you......please. Do you think you can make it?"

The desperation and fear in his voice sucks the air out of my lungs and leaves it almost impossible to reply. On some suicidal auto-pilot I croak," I'll be there."

That night i cried as i thought about our life when i was a little boy. It seemed that all we had was each other. A Snoopy blanket wrapped around us tight while watching a movie, or her bringing my breakfast to me in my favorite hiding spot. We were so similar back then, before it all changed.

My friend Jackie lent me her car the next morning and i was off.

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Crossing the Tennessee border, still about four hours away, I cant help but think of the downward spiral of our relationship. Of course we had fights about the various idiots she would marry on a whim, but inside we knew that our love was an unbreakable bond. That ended when I was fourteen.

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Growing up there was no one i loved as much as my grandparents, Mimi and Papa. I remember, before my father died, him saying that if I could love anyone the way i love them, the world would be an amazing place.

Once I was old enough to ride a bike, I started going over to my grandparents house every day after school. Walking through that door, my grandpa in his favorite chair, my grandma bustling around the kitchen trying to find me anything sweet. They were both diabetic, but kept a hearty supply of Little Debbie's just for me. I didn't really like sweets, but they never knew. This went on for years.

One day after school, I walked through the door just like normal. Grandma looked a little pale, but she smiled and handed me a piece of angel-food cake she had just made. Still warm, slathered with her homemade icing, i was in heaven. She even had the first boardgame out and set up.

About an hour into the game, my grandpa snoring loudly in his chair, i noticed a strange look on my grandma's face, like she was trying to remember something, but it was just out of reach.

I realized that she hadn't said anything in a while.

"Mimi........Mimi?" Nothing.

No recognition on her face, but her color was darkening into a terrifying blue. As my grandma slowly started sliding out of her rocker on to the living room floor, awareness came back to me.

Time seemed to have stopped. Just sounds. The ticking of the cuckoo that's been on the wall as long as I remember, the blaring television, that ridiculous snoring, suffocating me.

"Papa, wake up! There's something wrong with Mimi. Wake up!"

He gave me a sleepy smile until he read the fear on my face. I needed him to take control, but he seemed frozen, maybe as scared as I was. My mom and I had taken two different CPR classes together. The first for boy scouts and the second because i was always over here.

Mimi was a bigger woman, so i had to climb on her to start CPR. Papa was at their old rotary phone calling 9-1-1.

After I had given the first few breaths, i thought i saw some life creep back into her eyes. Then just as quickly, I saw it burn out completely. Through a downpour of tears, I kept trying to revive her, to no avail.

When the ambulance got there, she was already gone. Grandpa was collapsed in the corner, phone still in hand. I was still laying on top of her, my arms wrapped around her tight. I just couldn't let go.

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From that day on, my mom could barely look at me. She would snap at me for anything, no matter how trivial. She had always been somewhat emotionally impaired, but after Mimi's death she was almost unstable. We both knew that she blamed me for her mother's death, that I could of done something more. That thought never left my head, either.

A couple of years later, at the age of sixteen, she gladly signed for me to get married, and I moved right out. I saw her a few times when my son wiley was born a year later, and things seemed to brighten for her. The inevitable darkness took back over, though, and we didn't want her being near Wiley. I've seen my mom only four times since then.

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Two hours outside of Knoxville, I decide to pull over and take a breath. I've been so on edge this trip, almost to the point of panic attacks, that my body is completely worn out. I think it's time for some self-medicating.

Open the trunk to grab my little bag of tricks. Pop a xanax and a couple percocets, my go to stress relievers, grab a blunt and sit back in the front seat, radio on. The pills will hatch a plan with the pint of "crown" that I've been downing en route, and hopefully figure a way to even me out.

Parked beside an abandoned gas station, watching the traffic on the distant interstate, i finally start to calm down. It's funny how i need a tragic combination of ingredients just to feel normal. I didn't use to be like this. I close my eyes and lean back and start thinking about Megan.......

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After my divorce from my first wife, Jody, at nineteen, I decided to finish college in Murfreesboro, Tennessee, where they had the Recording Industry major that I wanted. My senior year I was twenty-one, because almost two semesters didn't transfer from Southeast Missouri State. I hadn't had anyone serious in my life since Jody. I honestly didn't think that i wanted to get that close to someone for a while, so when i met Megan and instantly fell hard, I was very surprised.

We moved in together right away and both knew how serious this was going to become. For a straight year, i was the happiest I had been since I had first married Jody. Possibly happier. There was nothing that we wouldn't do for each other and nothing we couldn't do.

When I decided that I was going to ask her to marry me, we drove back down to my hometown so that she could meet Jody and Wiley, and I could get their opinion of her. Jody and I had stayed very close, and always met each others partners if it got that serious. Jody and Wiley both loved her and were excited for me when they heard my plans.

I decided to call my mom and invite her over, even though I was very nervous about the meeting. Megan knew a lot about how my mom was, but I had still kept some things private. If it wasn't for Megan's persistance to meet her, i certainly never would have brought it up.

My mom picked up on the first ring like she was expecting a call, but didn't say anything at all when she heard my voice. I told her that I was in love again and wanted her to meet the woman that i planned to marry.

In a quiet voice, almost barely audible, she said 'no thank you' and hung up the phone.

The first thing I did when we got back to Murfreesboro was to get down on one knee and propose. Luckily she said yes, and for a while everything was great.

Almost three months to the day after she had said yes, Megan was killed in a car crash. The cops said it looks like she must have fallen asleep at the wheel and just driven off the road. Everything inside me fell to the floor, leaving an empty husk of misery. Jody and Wiley came up and stayed with me for a couple weeks, practically taking care of me like an invalid. I tried calling my mom at least ten times, leaving long,sobbing messages about how I needed her now more than ever. She never even called me back.

Being nothing but a shell, I filled myself with booze, coke,weed, and any kind of pill I could get my hands on.

I'm still that shell today.

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I was startled to see that it was now dark outside. I must have been asleep in this car for hours. My cell phone was crying out, and it took me a minute to find where it had slid to.

Without even checking the number, I fumbled it open and groggily muttered," Jeff here."

"You didn't make it, she's gone." It's John and he's fucking hysterical. At this point, I'm still out of it enough to where i don't even know what he's talking about. "You selfish little prick, where are you? She just kept asking for you right up until the end, racked with pain, and you're just taking your fucking time!?"

All i can think of to say is a weak and stunned "sorry".

Arrived at their cabin a little bit later, and all the lights were off. i knocked to no answer, but the door was open. It smelled like death in here, which i guess was fitting. I hadn't been here before, so i slowly maneuvered around the little cabin. As I walk into the kitchen, I see the slumped over body of John, sitting at the kitchen table in the dark, not moving.

"Where were you?", he grumbled without looking at me. Sounds like he also must of taken something to calm him down. I ignore the question and turn on a lamp on the far wall. He's staring down at the table to the envelope in his hands.

"She wanted to tell you so many things, to explain so many things, and you didn't give her that last wish. Honestly, I think she knew that you wouldn't make it so she wrote you this."

With that,he handed over the envelope. I accepted it from shaky hands and felt gratitude that he was in some kind of shock, a lot less yelling.

"If she wanted me here and wanted to make things right, why didn't she get ahold of me long ago? Why did she move all the way out here, away from everyone? Why did she write me off?"

Tears were running down my cheeks as John told me why.

Two days later, after the funeral, I climbed back into Jackie's car to start the journey home. The letter was on the seat next to me, still unopened. Thoughts were whipping around in my head. Take a breath Jeff.

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"She came here to die." That is what John told me. She had been battling cancer for a while. It would come and go, but she knew eventually it would come for one last dance. John said that she couldn't stand me watching her wither away. In his eyes noble, in mine, selfish.

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Roll the window down to grab a smoke and my eye catches the envelope. I put the cigarette back in the box and grab the letter from the seat. I want to open it and read it right now, but instead throw the whole thing out the window. I can be selfish too. Maybe we weren't that different.

two shitty poems

all that i have now is something that i cannot keep. something i am afraid to keep.

each day it rips at my insides like some wild beast, aching to be released from its electrified cage.

but as much as i try to suppress this "thing", i know that i cannot stop it.

i can't stop myself.

that is what i need to talk to you about.

you can help me.

you can help me because there is also something in you, ripping its way to the surface.

i know that you are also scared.

i dream about you and me,together; lying in a field, licking each others wounds.

pools of blood, slurping up everything around.

ecstasy, looking up at a red moon, half-conscious from the loss of blood.

my life is yours now.

i can barely feel you chewing. my life to your life.

i know this has got to be the beginning, the end would be too convenient for everyone.

is there actually someone still there?

i'm having a hard time caring.

my eyes keep slamming shut and are getting harder to open.

i should do something, but i won't.

that has always been a fault of mine.

find this,please; and save a life that needs you. your blood, your soul.

i'm done with everything :love, guns, blood,drugs, death, laughter, hope and dignity.

show my true insides, unless you're still feeding.

i love to love, and i wouldn't have changed.

　

　

　

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#2

there is a girl worth writing about-

lying again on the melted field

lapping up the translucent luxury that was her.

euphoric utterings

equip my pondering

with a sense of real life ecstasy,

which before i thought improbable.

loneliness keeps sinking in, though,

and even while i try to outrun it,

it keeps closing in.

i don't know what i'll do

when the blanket of the alone comes down.

there is a girl worth writing about-

the subject wracks my brain and

clenches my fist,

knowing that i can never totally express

what she could represent.

not knowing her fully myself

is what keeps me awake at night,

staring at the darkness with a

doomed expression slapped on my face.

even now, as the dawn lights awaken,

the very essence of her still lingers

on the tip of my tongue and fingers.

what horrible evil have i suffered,

not to have her driven off by another.

one never knows oneself

until a far-reaching search is concluded.

i shall start now.......

there is a girl worth writing about-

the name brings an acid sting to my mouth and heart.

it appears that Camus was wrong;

death doesn't prolong love, just post-pones life.

why do i bring these thoughts with me?

why am i doomed to take them with me to the grave?

i'm a love slave

to the dead and buried.

i've still got the blood on my shirt....

　

tennessee jambortion

Tennessee jambortion

jeff banks

- when the fuck is brian gonna get home? i'm ready to get fuckin' drunk. i'm goin crazy here.

i'm a little edgy, but it's been a rough week. that girl stephanie that i had dated a few months ago was back with some news. we had been together about six months before she went batshit crazy.

three days ago, she had met me for lunch at this piece of shit diner she had always liked. sitting across from me in our usual faded and constantly sticky booth, she announced that she was pregnant with our baby.

she looked into my eyes with concern, knowing that something had to be done. i'm just barely able to see her.

-obviously, we're too young and in no way capable of this.

i was sitting there thinking the same thing myself, even though i was already the father of my five year old, wiley, with my ex-wife jo. i stayed quiet, making it easier on me as she realized what, of course, had to be done. after a few minutes of silence, her eyes pleading at me to say something helpful, or even relevant, she proclaimed that an abortion would be scheduled to happen as soon as possible.

nodding my head, i just keep thinking to myself 'thank god'. i know it seemed kind of an asshole move, and believe me, if we had still been together, it might have been a different story. maybe. things being how they were, though, made the decision very simple in my mind.

as we return to the silence that had chaperoned this entire meeting, i look down at what's allegedly suppose to be my country fried steak, and sigh. what a fucking shithole. i probably wouldn't be able to eat any way, she's wearing that fucking perfume. that goddamn fruity perfume.

during one of our break-up rants, i let it slip about how putred i thought she constantly smelled because of that damn perfume. in the mornings, i would swear that the fruit scent has gone bad.

toxic, but we had some alright times and her aroma still brought up some sufficient memories. so, asshole or not, i was still suprisingly saddened by the news of the upcoming disposal. it was going to be my first, and hopefully last abortion. i use to be so naive. that's over.

my wife jo and i got married at sixteen. we were only 17 when he was born, but never even thought of getting rid of him. jo and i had gotten a divorce at nineteen and he had moved from cape girardeau(hometown) to columbia, MO a few months before i left for tennessee, and was still living there with jo while she finished college. i graduated from MTSU in 2000 but somehow found myself being a stupid, selfish dick.....

.. all this flashed through my brain instead of me focusing on what was going on. Stephanie had gotten up and walked out, leaving me there lost in my own head.

as usual, an apology later in the night righted everything. at least enough to get us through what we had to do together.

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plans were made that i was to drive her to nashville this morning for the appointment, but at the last minute she had decided that she would prefer me not to be there. she had already lined up another ride with one of her friends that i didn't really know. from there she was going to be dropped off at her mom's house, who still lived right outside of nashville.

i had already requested off work, so all day i've just been shifting aimlessly around the house. lost in thought, lost in some strange funk. needless to say, i was fucking stressed.

-hit that bottle in the freezer. it's been there forever anyway. sage advice from joey, that little fuck.

-you know i hate that fuckin shit! maybe a little strong, but 'come on.'

sweat on my brow, threatening to flow into my eyes with any sudden movement. dipped into the blow a little early, around nine this morning. Joey gives me one of his judging looks that he could have patented, then goes back to his computer. he's always on that fucking thing.

just then i hear brian's jeep pull up along side the house. he walks in with that shit-eating grin that i've seriously grown to hate. brian, joey and i have been living together for almost a year. when the lease is up, we're most likely going to separate and go our own way. this whole arrangement is just getting stale. and a little clostraphobic.

-where the fuck you been?

-calm the fuck down, muchato. i was just hangin with ann marie....a pause and that goddamn smile...good girl, that ann marie.

those laughing eyes on me. that fucking prick. he knew i'd been trying to get with ann marie. and i already know that he had to have told her about stephanie.

everything is a competition with him. should knock that smile from his fucking face. he's bigger than me with a shitload of rage mixed in, but when i get mad, i could give a fuck. my bigger concern was that i get all my shit from him. finding a new dealer is not something that appeals to me right now. i decide to ignore him completely and get back to what's happening now, which was getting him ready to go.

-clean up fucker, i want to get down to the 'Boro'.

the Boro is this shitty little dive bar a couple of blocks away in the middle of town. it was also the only bar that we went to. we knew everyone that worked and went there, so we were allowed certain privileges. from cutting through the kitchen to cutting huge rails at a booth, it was incredible, almost a power. a healing power that could definitely help me now.

in my room, inhaling a pile of mixed powders.they reminds me of that colored sand art that got so popular a few years back. so many different pills get broken down on this table, you never know exactly what you're getting high on. little mix of everything. my delicious cocktail.

i hear brian turn the shower on in our brady bunch conjoined bathroom. joey has one all to himself on the other side of the house. as usual, about two minutes after he gets in the shower, he starts coughing up everything from inside of him. couple minutes later come the inevitable snot rockets that stick to the sides and floor of the tub. if you're not quite sure what i'm talking about, then you're spared. just one more reason to hate that bastard.

by the time he's dressed and ready, i'm fucking flying. sweating my ass off, but feeling powerful. itching a little, but no big deal. i made sure to cut my nails real short this morning. smart fucking guy.

i try to down the dos equis i've just been holding for the past forty-five minutes but it catches in my throat, and it takes me a few minutes to regain my breath and head to the living room. joey at the front door, brian grabbing a couple of grams before following out. i exit last and watch my 'friends' as we single file towards joey's jeep limited.

joey runs the u-haul here in town and always has bank. i'm sure that's why brian always wants him around. joey's his number one customer. loves the fucking shit. line after line, hour after hour while staring at that computer screen. whatever makes the dude happy, i guess. we all have our different shit.

we ride in silence. windows down, listening to the new 'widespread' bootleg that brian picked up. they're coming to town in a few weeks, and everyone's pretty fucking jazzed.

pull into the boro just as the sun is darkening in the background. once again, i trail behind as brian and joey stride into the bar. the setting sun lowered the temperature to just tolerable, which is a good thing for this town.

enter in to an apocalypse of southern rock,lowered lights,and even lower self-esteem. know fifteen people already. i've got that coke glisten, that rapist's sweat, dripping from every pore.

we sit in our normal "gangster booth" as kala the waitress brings us our usuals. joey is without a doubt always seen with a jack and coke in his hands. he claims that everything else makes him sick. brian gets his opening three cuervo shots that it must take him to get comfortable. a cold coors in front of me and we're ready to go. everything i've ingested, it'd be a waste of money to try to get drunk for a few hours. tonight, i'm a late night alcoholic.

comin' home with me tonight, k?

brian already trying to make plans early. kala has been with all three of us before, so he must not want to try real hard. she tries to act coy, but she'll be over later. they're all about the same in this town. fuckin coke whores.

joey's girl walks in looking great. how he managed that pussy i have no idea. jessica and joey have been toether only a few months, but already seem to be planning a life together. brian and i have had many coke fueled late night talks in which we each describe the disgusting acts we would love to perform on her. she's just seems too perfect, and nothing feels better to an asshole than ruining perfection. however, being the gentlemen that we are, we decided that joey deserves to be happy. we declared her off bounds, and have actually started looking at her like one of the guys.

as usual, we drink our first drinks together and cheers to the night. this time we also cheers to bad times and that they may be better. with that joey and brian bring their glasses to mine. these two assholes are my best friends. how the fuck did that happen?

we down the first round and go our respective ways, but always in earshot should something happen to one of us. not a common thing, but a lot more relaxing knowing you have back-up.

i pick up a game of pool with some bar friends while brian takes some frat guys on darts. joey and jessica are still in the booth, no doubt talking about some future for themselves.

the night goes really smooth. we meet up periodically to kill some lines and down shots( as much as my gak throat will allow). we do the lines right there in the booth. if anyone has a problem, they've never said anything.

almost 1130 and suddenly joey's by my side.

we have to get the fuck out of here right now!

joey's already shit faced but jessica's by his side also trying to convince me, so i know it's not about them. i'm flying so high that i just smile and keep saying "totally", though not taking a step towards an exit. "totally confused" was probably my complete sentence. brian is nowhere in sight, so he must be in some sort of trouble. jessica takes hold of my arms and tries to guide me out. i rip myself out of her grip, convinced i've got to save brian.

i've gotta find brian. what the fuck's goin on!? what's wrong with brian!?

joey tries to grab at me but i'm spinning and running to the other side of the bar to find brian. i stop dead in my tracks.

stephanie and four other guys are standing in the corner, having a killer laugh, obviously fucked up and loving it. all i can do is stand there with my mouth open while my brain tries to process this. my brain seems to be working just one step slower than the drugs. this can't be happening. i turn around to see brian there, out of his fucking gourde, staring red eyed at the drunken quintet. he seemed to have the voice that i was lacking.

WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU HERE?! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE!!!?

my mind was fucking racing. why was she here? what about the abortion? she said she would be staying with her mom. WHAT THE FUCK IS SHE DOING HERE?

i stare directly into her eyes and cant tell what i see. she knew i would be here, is she trying to make a fucking fool out of me? goddamn, i need a fucking smoke.

out the side door, once more in the humid night. what's the plan, i tell myself, as the spinning in my head subsides.

brian joins me with two jim beams and plan.

WE WALK IN STRONG, BRO. JOEY AND I TAKE THE FAGS WHILE YOU GRAB THAT BITCH AND GET YOU'RE ANSWERS.

seems like a solid plan. the only problem is that i've got a case of the shakes that would have erkel coming up to challenge me. it's all in the mind, i guess.

walk by the bouncer with a mixed grin and already hear brian starting to rave. pick up the pace though i'm in no hurry. everything is a dream now.

gazing to my left, i see brian pinning the one guy with dreads to the pinball machine while his friend is wailing on b's left ear. joey and jessica are trying to reason with the other two guys who look like they're about to jump in and help their friends.

no bouncers, no bartenders. they know the score. i slowly fumble my way toward the spot where steph is crouched. she's between a pool table and the wall, knowing what's coming. guess she doesn't know me.

the boro staff finally kicks in and escorts the guys outside, promising them that stephanie and i are just going to talk. in truth, no one knows what i'm going to do, especially not me.

they let us go through the kitchen into a little back room that would offer the most privacy, even though a few people were still mulling around, probably as curious as i was to see what was going to go down. i knew i only had a limited time to get the truth out of her before one of her friends showed up and convinced her to keep her mouth shut. she has this terrified look in her eyes that is actually only making me angrier. how dare you look scared, you made this happen!

JEFF.... I....IT'S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE.

my eyes averted, my voice a hoarse whisper: AND WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE?

I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE THINKING...slightly sobbing...BUT YOU'VE GOT TO LISTEN TO ME. BELIEVE ME! PLEASE!

i've always been great at running away in situations like these. never a good idea, but this time it would of given me time to think. instead,mistakingly, through tear-filled bloodshot eyes, i decided now was the time to take a stand.

i open my mouth to call her out, but i realize she hadnt stopped babbling out her excuses. i try to make a conscious effort to hear her.

....so when i got there everything was set to go,um, like i was saying. the weather outside had gotten pretty bad, i mean,uh, you saw the storms this morning, right?

i was tweaking so hard this morning a tornado could of come through and i wouldnt have noticed. as long as it didnt touch my supply, that is. lost in my own thought, i assume i must have been unconsiously nodding my head. whatever i was doing, it convinced her to continue.

well, anyway, the storm was pretty bad, as you know. so eric and i...

eric?who the fuck is eric? that fucking dreaded fag? maybe brian should teach him a lesson after all.

eric?

she either was wrapped up in her story or decided to ignore me. tough enough to get through this pre-fab'd story, but now there's an eric. certain she was just ignoring the question, i gave her a kill-all stare that actually seemed to get through to her. she was really scared. if i didnt feel like bringing the wrath down, i might have felt some pity. she was always such a tough chick. how the fuckin mighty have fallen.

so, there we were in the waiting room, when all of the sudden,um,the lights went out on the floor. the emergency lights came on, uh, but they ended up canceling all the procedures for the day. they're gonna call me tomorow with a...a..schedule.

by procedures i'm assuming the entire floor was in the business of angel-making. it seems unreal that a hospital would have power failure, let alone not be able to operate with some capability. needless to say, i didnt believe any of these fucking lies. after all this was the girl that tells everyone that she is john gotti's niece. dumb-ass bitch.

i didnt know my fist was even clenched until i hit her in the face. i've done so much bad shit with never a regret, but that was one thing i wish i could take back. she got a dazed look on her face that actually scared me. everything stopped at that moment. everyone who had been watching had majically vanished. it was just me and a bleeding, sobbing girl that i had once really cared for. i could hear nothing but the music playing from the kitchen in the back of the house. i still remember that song to this day, although i've never figured out what song it was. i remember this one verse......

every gesture you make

starts an earthquake inside me

i'd walk away if i could

but my legs would betray me

....stephanie is sunken to the floor by the empty kegs, crying.

right before we got a divorce, me and jo were having one of our rare, but devastating fights. right in the middle of our coup, i realized my hand was in a fist. not only that, but it was raised. we both stopped yelling and looked at my ready fist. everything was quiet for a minute. the longest moment of my life. i had never hit a girl, and for it to be my wife was too much of a stereotype. after staring at at my hand with my mouth agape, i turned and walked out the door. i never wanted it to get that close again. so of course, this current situation caused quite a stir inside me. deja vu with a twisted ending.

i unclenched my fist and was about to start blathering apologies, when i heard the sirens just outside. even feeling like we were part owners of this place did not dislodge the feeling that serious trouble was happening.

i left steph there, crumpled on the ground, and went to the main bar to find brian and joey and get the fuck out of dodge. who had called the cops? would they sympathize? better not to find out. head out the side door again to a barrage of lights and sound. brian was getting put into the car in cuffs, face covered in blood. i saw dreads(eric?) on the ground getting helped by some cops. his pulp of a face told me everything i needed to know. hate him or not, brian is loyal as fuck.

i sneak away with joey and jessica back to the house. after a long talk, joey agrees to put up the money for brian, with the understanding that he will be compensated, of course. i stay at the house while they go get him. about 4 in the morning they get back with a deshevled, and scarily sober brian. he walks in a gives me a hug with a wink and utters only one word...

brothers.

we grab some beers, some more lines, and decide to watch the upcoming sunrise. joey's feeling tired, says he's going to bed, which means at least one more hour on the puter.

two hours later i'm feeling the inevitable coke shits and excuse myself to the boys room. took a little longer in there than i expected(finished the entire US Weekly). when i walked out it was strangely silent. hoping the party wasnt over, i bounded into the living room. jessica was riding brian, skirt up by her waist, oblivious to the fact that i was standing there watching. he saw me, though, and gave me that fucking smile.

feeling dizziness and an unreality, i quietly called it a night.

friends.

turns out stephanie was telling the truth

the end of the beginning

the end of the beginning

cape girardeau, 1999

pounding on the door, frantic. should be curious, but i know exactly who this is, and exactly what it's about. that pounding, filling the room. head throbbing with each rap. the door and i merging into one.

"jeff, open the door!"

time stops, breath stops. the beat that my heart skipped.

door knob frantically rattling back and forth, door itself quaking in its frame.

"open the fucking door!" shit.

glancing around, quick inventory. the apartment reeks of guilt and mangled sex. the room itself is utterly destroyed. how much do i really remember about the last few hours? the couch cushions on the floor try to remind me.

uproot your fucking legs! this little mantra is getting very old.

on numb legs and knocking knees, i wobble to the door. watching my hand go for the knob seems so surreal. a strangers hand, doing what i myself seem unable to do.

'am i ready for this?' is all i can whisper as i turn the handle with sweaty palms.

i open the door with absolutely no surprise and stare into the dead eyes of my best friend and neighbor, Ryan. i cant talk. luckily, he knows what he has to say.

"Jaime's gone, we have to go find her."

the darkness in those eyes burn right through me. how much does he know? what do i really know?

by the look in his eyes, i can tell that he thinks he knows everything, but is clinging on to doubt. or just hoping he's mistaken

i can physically feel that a drift has shifted and realize that i'm on a different plane. this is the end of something and the beginning of something else entirely.

"grab your fuckin' jacket, we gotta go." stuck.

nothing to do but grab my coat and follow the slightly slumped over body of my friend as he ascends the five steps that would lead us to my back yard. walk out into one of the stalest nights ive known. no sounds, no wind, only the same screaming birds and squirrels.

ryan's house is two down from mine, so we make our way over there to get to his car. the beat up pussy wagon bmw parked omnilously between our houses.

--at this point, the author would love to wax-nostalgic about all the good times were had in this particular vehicle, but realizes that the time for reminiscing is over. long over.--

curiosity keeps my brain questioning- how is this going to end? all i know for sure is that nothing is going to be the same ever again.

we get into the car and start to drive. where we are going, i have no idea. all i can focus on are those hands gripping the wheel. clasped so tight, the knuckles as bright white as beacons, but where are we being guided?

we sit in silence for about fifteen minutes. the only movement inside the car is ryan's chain-smoking. wasn't he trying to quit? finally he turns his head and looks at me.

"so.....what happened?"

how long have i not been breathing?

his voice is almost pleading, and for just a second, my guilt gets replaced by pity. poor son of a bitch. by his eyes, i can tell that he is searching desparately. he knows something, but needs me to fill in the blanks and tell him exactly what happened. i still dont even remember the exact facts, do i? can i possibly get out of this? shame and regret slap me in the face simultaneously. he's been staring at me for so long, i'm afraid we're going to crash. i open my mouth to say something, anything, but i guess i waited to long and its gone back to him.

in a voice straining to remain calm, he once more looks at me.

"i need to know what happened, and i need you to tell me.....now."

dear jesus, those knuckles. as spiked as snow peaks. absorbing all of my attention. i know the time has come for me to fill in the gaps, but how far am i willing to go?

ryan and i have had issues concerning his fiancee jaime over the last few years. namely the fact that jaime and i had almost hooked up a few times before they met each other, and that fact gives him 'residuals'. every once in a while when she's really drunk, she likes to openly ponder what would of happened if we had gone all the way back then. basically causing nothing but trouble. dirty bitch.

so we had a history of problems with her, so this was really nothing new. but the scope of what was happening was beyond anything we've ever wanted to deal with. totally stuck.

lost in my head. his turn again.

" i walked in and knew something was wrong right away. jaime was huddled on the floor crying fucking hysterically, so my first thought was that someone must have died. she was obviously fucked up, and when i tried to get close, to comfort whatever the fuck was going on, she screamed and jumped up......"

uncomfortable pause

"....then i saw her eyes. we've been through every shitty thing a couple has ever gone through, but i have never seen this look before. she was standing there unable to meet my eyes and that's when i noticed that her pants were undone and her shirt had somehow gotten ripped. when i reached for her she bolted out the fuckin door and took off in her car. please give me an answer. do you know what happened? do you have anything to do with this?"

he pulls the car over. the time has come.

i'm trying not to face him, so i glance out the window and see a stranger looking back at me in the side mirror. i'm slowly losing me. i just kept feeling the waves of radiating change.

inside my head i was putting together the confession that was due. an idiotic pulse kept running through me, saying that if i handled this just right, it might all somehow work out. while my brain was working overtime for a story that we could both believe, my mouth decided to go ahead with the task.

still looking at the window, suspended, staring at the strangers eyes .

"it just happened."

did i just say that out loud?

scarlet flashed onto his face, so i knew that he heard me.

"it just happened?! what just happened? what did you do?

during this questioning, his voice just keeps growing weaker and shakier.

" did you.....(recognition in those eyes now)...did you...fuck her?

hearing that hurt in his voice took me back to the previous summer. we had carried on a very similar conversation back then. a conversation that ended in me promising him that nothing would ever happen between me and jaime, and that his friendship was the most important thing to me.

i am such a prick.

we drive by her house, drive by her parents house; no car. all this done in silence. i try to roll down my window, but he must have the child-locks on. surely that's just a coincidence.

the car starts slowing down in the middle of the street. i look back out my window for comfort, but even the reflexion looks scared.

he lets go of the wheel and the car starts veering to the left side of the road. is he possibly looking for a place to stop? or has he just given up? still facing the wrong way, but its a good start. he pops the car into park, then turns towards me one more time. i'm just staring at myself in that mirror like and idiot, just waiting, and wanting him to say more......to please put this all together for himself.

to my absolute horror, i see the lips in the mirror moving. worse than that, it's talking in my voice. who is this bastard? this cold blooded stranger trying to take my place? not to mention, what the fuck had he just said?

turn to ryan, hoping to judge by his look what kind of nonsense i had just spewed. the burning insanity i saw when i swivel to the left stops me cold.

"WHATEVER!? did you just fucking say whatever to me!!??"

oh shit.

that was when i got hit. dont feel the punch much, but sure as hell feel my head banging off the window. blackness, enough light to see a couple more punches sneak in. dizziness takes over. i'd never really been in a fight yet and was very unuse to any sort of beating, so this feeling was something altogether new.

coming back to reality, i hear the door wrench open and can only watch as im pulled out and thrown to the ground. here is my best friend, my other, kicking the shit out of me. looks like he's screaming, but i cant hear anything he's saying. a boot to the ear has left me with only a high pitched, dull buzz. eyes roll in their sockets to the left and i see that we are by the domino's that jaime works at. those lights so close. knowing that at least one friend of mine is inside that could stop this, but im going nowhere. no cavalry riding in today. then.......nothing.

come to a few seconds later, see a pair of feet running off, but understand nothing about what's going on. no shouts, no voices whatsoever. i try to prop myself up on my elbows, not successfully. look down and see that my right arm is bruised and twisted in an impossible direction. testing my left arm and trying to blink out the blood pouring from my face, i barely make out jaime's car in the shadows behind the store.

now i can hear yelling, coming from those same shadows. using the car for balance, i get to my feet. pain hasn't hit yet. still in the middle of some numbing shock, so i decide to take advantage.

start staggering towards the shadows behind the store. look down to see my right ankle dragging behind me. if it wasn't for all the blood, people might think that i was one of those tragic teenage stroke victims, freshly rehab'd. they have those, right? out on the town in the middle of the night. what time is it, anyway?

as i get closer to where jaime's car is parked, i see the lump of a body on the hood of the car. i also see the hunched over, heaving shadow near the front of the car that must be ryan. poor fuck, losing his dinner like that.

i come up behind ryan and squat down next to him. try to anyway. my ankle being fucked, i lose ground and fall on my ass right in front of the car. this has to just be a dream, right? at least i have that figured out.

his lifts his face to look at me, my fall putting us only a couple of feet apart. glazed, watery eyes, chunks of bile covering his chin and the front of his shirt. all the rage had left him. had he just tired himself of it, or was it something else? on wounded knees, i rose and looked down on the shiftless pile on the hood. jaime.

what had she taken? i was thinking about trying to move her, then i notice what must have made ryan so sick. i have to fight myself not to turn and do the same thing. that, or scream. no feelings at all now, no thoughts. actually, one thought. jesus fucking christ.

------------------------------------------

at the hospital, they separated us all, insisting i get looked at as well while ryan hangs back with the paperwork; and possible details. so much blood on my shirt, don't know if its mine or hers. probably both.

my right arm was broken in two places, but my ankle was only sprained. i had to get thirteen stitches on my scalp for a wound that had gone unnoticed. slight concussion. all in all, not too bad for how i felt.

the doctor tried a couple of times to ask me some questions, but i feigned too weak.

this is actually the first time i have ever talked about this. some sort of journal therapy.

i walked out to the waiting room but there was no sign of ryan. he must be with her. i was thinking about checking up on her, but that's his job. as i was waiting there at the checkout desk, jaime's mom came in, rushing by me without a glance. ryan must have called her.

i'm wearing a paper hospital shirt since mine ended up being covered in what did turn out to be both of our blood. i walk out the sliding doors and light up a smoke. thank god.

get home, pop a couple xanax and a perc. nothing seems real anymore. looking around my apartment. it only took a couple of hours to change my whole life. no use picking up tonight, and fuck those doctors, i need some sleep.

turn out every light, pitch black,deadly quiet. lying there, with every urge fighting to subdue it, the images start flashing through my mind:

-my reflexion in that damn mirror-so different from the one i'm used to.

-ryan huddled over himself, unable to fight me any more, and unable to fight the tears pouring down his face.

-my friend kelty and the other employees of domino's all gathered around me as someone inside calls the cops.

-and jaime. i'll never forget that sight.

---------------------------------------------------

i look down on a friend that i don't recognize. this poor creature before me sprawled awkwardly across the hood. it looks a bit like a hit and run, but her car had been sitting idle for some time.

"jaime..."

i shake her slightly and she's completely limp. she had used something to completely slice up her arms, face, neck and chest in brutal gashes. hardly an inch of unmarred skin. jesus christ, she had been so fucking beautiful. my eyes fill with water, and through my swimming view, i watch the ground approach very quickly. i passed out even before i hit.

i wake up in the ambulance on a gurney next to jaime. all those bandages. nothing holding me back now, the tears come. mercifully they come, blocking out everything else.

-----------------------------------------------------------

i need to get some sleep. i've been lying here for hours. the shittiest thing about this is that i love that girl. i always have.

did i neglect to mention that?

i guess she had told the doctors about wanting to punish herself. she had used her keys to try and saw herself open. when that didn't work, she got busy with the pin from her name tag. explains why the cuts were so bad. the amount of time it must have taken for each gash is staggering.

i turn the lights back on. nothing for me here anymore. no best friend, nothing real.

my landlords upstairs were gone for the weekend, so i break in. steal as much as i can, load up the car and head to tennessee. plan on never looking back. on to the next nightmare.

it would have been nice to tell her that i did love her.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

blizzard brothel

j.a. banks



.......the train barrels across the wastelands at an astonishing 770 mph. the cabin's been stabilized to allow for the maximum comfort for the elite on board, myself included in this category. how i was allowed this certain luxury still amazes me, but it saves me time in getting to where i have to be.

the gemini is the only active transit system in what was once the united states, before "the fall". usually reserved for government officials and the rich collective known strictly as 'the pavers', the train itself surpasses every other technological advance since the revamp.

my business aboard this certain vessel is in direct relevance to my newly appointed position as the census taker of the AAF(advancement for the american federation).

i've kept my own agenda a secret due to the fact there is absolutely no one i can trust with who i really am. to them, i'm just a simple bean counter. a remedial man sent to do a remedial task. it doesn't help that i'm constantly compared to a stick of a man named ichabod, a character from one of the few remaining stories that survived. at least some culture was saved. to think of all that was lost still makes my head swim.

as we cross the border of a unified territory that was once nevada(according to the old maps), i sneak a glance out one of the tiny windows near the ceiling of my cabin and sigh. the clouds are already rolling in thick, i just hope we can make it there before travel becomes impossible. i have to get there before the storm. i have to get to her before the storm. i just pray there is enough time. i can already feel it in me.

still an hour till the depot, so i decide to try and relax. shut my eyes and suddenly i'm transported to a different time and place......

chamisa turns back and smiles at me. so innocent, but who isn't at nine years old? after mama died, and daddy just being how he was, we had to rely on each other more than ever. not that i ever minded being the one she looked up to. i would have done anything for her. after spending so much time in the earth, we had only been top-ground for about a week when mama caught the sickness. she passed soon after, while daddy was on one of his expeditions of self-preservation, and greed. he was truly a vile creature. he had quite a few secrets himself.

we'd been warned of the creatures that inhabited most of the land, but weren't taught about the other humans, which in some cases, could be a lot worse. chamisa, finishing the laundry in one of the remaining clean water reservoirs, smiling at me while the trampling of a hundred horses closed in.

sammy?

the fear growing in her eyes is what snaps me out of the relaxion of the shade from the pine.

suddenly, they were everywhere. screaming their terrifying banshee cries, war paint made up of the victims they have slain along the way. pelts of human and animal alike adorning their near naked bodies.

i see chamisa's eyes go wide as we both realize there is no way that i can reach her in time. i try to yell but have no voice, so i start running all out, though my destination will never be reached. still about thirty feet away, one of the bigger tribesmen snatches her up. she's still screaming. he pauses long enough to give me a bloody smile through jagged teeth before turning around and tearing away with the others. that's the last time i saw her.

.....snap awake as the break-system kicks in and everything seems all too real.

a simple robotic voice lets us know that our destination has been reached and departure will begin immediately after docking. god give me the strength to do what i came here to do.

walk outside from the bright white, overly sterilized hospital-like station into the dusty, thick air. even though it's middle afternoon, the darkness is taking over the skies with frightening efficiency. the first dirty flakes are beginning to fall. have to make this quick before they find out who i really am. nothing holding me back now. if anyone gets in my way, they die. i'm not about taking risks at this point. i'm only here for one reason. her.

it was jenny green-tooth that gave me the only clue to where she might have been taken. she said that all of the younger girls were taken to this god-forsaken land with the intent of selling them to anybody with the means to sustain them. the horror stories of what they've been used for resonates through every bone in my body.

but so does my rage.

hurrying, but smiling while thinking of the outcome, i head to the center of this man-made burg, the Andromeda brothel. the hive of every sadistic sentient being left. basically, where the women are. the thickening snowfall blankets every step i take, which is a blessing for what will progress. no one outside, which also is good for me, my shape taking the form of something that no one could recognize, outside of their nightmares. she must be close.

clothes shedding from my body to hit the filthy snow of this shit town. a promising growl trying to escape my lips, but don't want to give to much away yet. almost there.

only one drunkard outside of the Andromeda. his caterwauling as his limbs are torn off bothers no one inside. all business now.

open the door to absolute quiet. bartender is scared shitless, so i end his suffering quick. as i'm finishing him off, i hear a scream from upstairs and know the cause. chamisa. my family.

making my way upstairs the old-time harem, i hear random doors opening to figure out the source of the torment. doors shut just as quickly as they see me mounting the stairs. lucky for them, my goal is already set.

top floor, a multitude of doors framing the long and somewhat warped hallway, i notice that one has lazily opened.

no fear in me, not as i am now. i turn into the opening door and watch the second most vile creature i've known. ripping the skin off an unsuspecting drunk with his shit covered pants around his ankles. the screams take me back. chamisa.

time is running out, so i walk straight in......