Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-28428152-20181020071418

Chapter X

It was April, 2004. Twenty-one-year-old Janice Bakker at the time was renting out a house in Maysburg—a real steal. She’d found it for only seven-hundred dollars a month from an old couple who predominantly lived in Andary, Canada. The only catch was that if they came down to visit family, she would be asked to leave the house during this time, though this was worth it to her, as she could always stay at her friend Rosa Rodriguez and Mike Erikson’s apartment nearby.

She’d moved to Maysburg from La Vergne, Tennessee three years earlier to go to college, though she’d found herself succumbing to depression and ultimately dropping out—though her parents still helped out with rent, despite their disappointment. Fortunately, she had known Rosa since high school, and she got Janice a job at a small fast food chain by the name of Dingle Burger, though Rosa herself was fired soon afterwards for stealing from the register in order to pay for a new CD Player.

But it was during this April morning, with the day still young, that Mike Erikson showed up on her doorstep while she was practicing on her guitar, still in her pajamas.

Ding-Dong!

Jan shrieked and jumped from the loud doorbell, not having heard the tires pull up in the driveway or the music blasting from the car outside. She took a moment to recuperate before getting up to go to the door, her heart pumping. Confused by the disturbance, she headed to the door, and almost made it, too, before she heard a loud squeak! and found herself crashing into the floor, the old acoustic guitar she’d forgotten to put down crumbling beneath her into a pile of sharp splinters.

“Jan?” she heard through the door. “Jan, you okay?”

“Yeah,” she groaned, picking herself up. “Just gimme a second.”

She pulled off the guitar strap, removing the splinters from her clothes and stomping over to the front door and yanking it open.

“It’s nine in the morning, Mike,” she breathed. “What is it?”

Mike didn’t say anything for a moment, but instead scratched his shaggy brown beard, looking around awkwardly.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, his eyes shooting open. “Yeah. Sorry it’s late—I mean early.”

Jan noticed the music blaring inside Mike’s car, which she noticed was full of suitcases.

“’Down in a hole…. Losin’ my soul…. I’d like to fly, but my wings have been so denied….’”

“You know your car’s still on, right?”

“Wha—Oh, fuck. Hold on.”

He raced over to the car, and leaned into the driver’s side, turning off the car.

“Sorry about that,” he said after he came back to the front door.

“Jesus, Mike. How much weed did you smoke before you came here?”

“Weed?” Mike asked in confusion. “I haven’t smoked today. Why?”

He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, looking at the road nervously.

“A-are you okay, Mike? You seem… out of it.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he answered, still looking up and down the road. He turned back around and gave a look of surprise. “Oh!” he exclaimed. “Yeah, you okay? I heard something loud.”

Jan sighed and stepped aside to let him in, cigarette still lit.

“Well,” she said, “I uh…. You’ll laugh at me, haha, but I forgot to set down my guitar and tripped over one of Dibby’s toys and kind of fell on it.” As she said this, her wall-eyed grey mutt of indeterminate breed sauntered into the room, tongue out and breathing heavily.

“Oh, shit!” he said, stooping down to look at the pile of guitar. “Wasn’t that your dad’s or something?”

“My grandad’s,” she said. “He’s dead, too. So, I dunno. Guess it’s trash, now.”

“Well, my uncle Max can fix it up,” he said, investigating a long splinter. “Hey, don’t eat the guitar!” he scolded at Dibby, who was desperately trying to eat the splinters.

“Dibby!” Jan hollered. The dog looked at her for a moment before putting his tongue on another splinter.

“Goddamnit. Dibby! Mayonnaise? You want some mayonnaise, Dibby?”

Dibby barked and farted, hobbling into the kitchen.

“Sorry,” Jan said. “It’s the only way I can get him to stop eating random objects. Probably why he’s so fat. Not the brightest crayon in the box, that one.”

“So, what were you saying about your uncle?” she asked once she’d fed her dog five spoons of mayonnaise.

“What?” he asked. He’d been peering into the peephole of the front door.

“Your uncle Max?”

“Oh, right. Yeah, he fixes instruments for a living. Has a little shop called Miracle Max, like in The Princess Bride.”

“Is he good?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah! He’s the fuckin’ best, man. He’ll make this shit look like it came off the shelf. I’ve seen him fix up guitars, yeah, and basses, drum kits, mandolins, banjos, even a didgeridoo once. Dude can fix anything. He moved out to El Paso about a year ago, though, so it’ll take a while before it gets back.”

“Must’ve been around him quite a bit.”

“Yeah,” he said. “He raised me after my mom ran off with some CEO or some shit to Vancouver. But, hey, at least she’s using his money to pay for college. Only thing she’s done for me, though.”

“How is school going, by the way?” she asked.

“Oh, great. I’m looking at interning at NASA, soon. I’ve been working on some theorems of mine, think it might impress them. But yeah, how ‘bout the guitar? You want my uncle to take a jab at it?”

Jan sighed and massaged her eyebrows.

“How much will it be?”

“Hmm. This’ll cost a few hundred. But I can probably get him to do it for less, which’ll be cheaper than anywhere else.”

“Well, I suppose it’s better than throwing it away. It’s the only thing I have left of his.”

“Tight, I can call him later after I get set up.”

“Set up with what?” Jan asked with a puzzled expression on her face.

Mike opened his mouth and closed it again. “Wait,” he said, “did I not already ask you?”

Jan shook her head.

“Oh, shit. Well, um…. I need a place to stay for a few days. That okay?”

“What’s wrong with the apartment? Did you and Rosa get in a fight or something?”

He looked at the floor for a moment, as though trying to figure something out.

“Yeah,” he said. “We got in a fight. I… I don’t really want to talk about what it was about, but I need a place to crash for a few days until things… uh… cool off.”

“She won’t get jealous, will she?” Jan laughed, waving cigarette smoke out of her face.

“Rosa? Nah, she wouldn’t. You guys have known each other since what, high school?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s right. I mean, I only met her through college, so she should trust you. But is it cool if I stay for a few days? I just need to escape.”

“Yeah, anything you need. I’m always here for you.”

“Sweet. Hope I can actually get a few night’s good sleep for once.” He paused, patting his pockets absently. “Alright, I’ll go grab my shit. Where am I staying?”

“You can stay in the den, I guess. Couch is pretty comfy.”

“Word, I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I can.”

After bringing everything inside, Mike left for several hours, though to where, Jan didn’t know, nor did she ask. But late that night, she woke up to use the bathroom and saw the light on in the den. When she looked inside to check on Mike, she saw him asleep on the couch fully clothed, tears on his cheeks as he mumbled, “James…. James…. Don’t go…. I didn’t mean to…. Come back….”

*  *     *     *  *

Jan closed her eyes and took a deep, shaky breath.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Y… yes,” she answered harshly.

“We can stop at any time, you know.”

Jan looked slightly surprised, though she didn’t acknowledge my statement.

“Mike acted… very…. What’s the word?”

“Strange?” I suggested.

“Yes. Mike acted very strange. Very paranoid. When he came over, I mean. Like, the days he stayed at my house. He was very paranoid. And he rarely talked to me. He was very personal. I mean… private. Which he could be withdrawn sometimes, but he was usually a fun dude to be around. But those five days before the show, he just wasn’t himself.”

I pulled out my phone to check the time. It was 11:56.

“Shit,” I said. “Well, we’ll have to stop here, for now. It’s almost time for everybody to go back inside. But maybe we can continue this afternoon? Or tomorrow, if you want.”

“Today,” she stated, taking a trembling drag from her cigarette. “I wanna get this out of the way.”

“I understand,” I said gently, turning off the voice memo on my phone. “But I’m gonna go talk to Joe, okay? If you need anything, I’ll be right over there.”

“Yes, ma’am. I mean, sir.”

I smiled and left Jan to her usual solitude, striding back over to where Joe was by the door.

“Anyone notice?” I asked.

“Nah,” he said with a slight southern drawl. “People don’t usually come by the door during rec. But, hey, are you sure about this, man? I mean, it’s not against policy to talk to the patients, but if they notice that you’re always talking to her, they’re gonna get suspicious. Might think you’re trying to flirt with her. Or worse, they might find out what you’re doing. Either way, you’re bound to get canned.”

“It’s seven-and-a-half thousand dollars, Joe. Could really put a dent in my student loan debt. Besides, you know that Dr. Melville is my cousin. I’m sure she’ll take it easy on me.”

Though it was true that Dr. Melville was my cousin, she had also put herself out on a limb to get me hired, and I wasn’t so sure that she would be so lenient with me getting into trouble. She was business first, family second.

“God,” Joe huffed. “It’s risky. I mean, I don’t know why her, though. I mean, she’s pretty low maintenance. Plus, I have no idea how much sense she’ll make. I’m sure most of it is made up, with her being retarded and everything.”

I scowled at him. “What do you mean, she’s retarded?”

Joe shrugged his shoulders and said, “I mean, brain damage and schizophrenia? Total vegetable.”

I clenched my fists inside my pockets.

“She’s not retarded, Joe. She just has trouble with words, is all. I could understand her perfectly fine this whole time. She’s got a memory like an elephant.”

“Dude, she couldn’t remember how to put on her shirt the other day. I had to put it on for her.”

“Well, obviously she has short-term memory problems. But I can tell that she’s all there. Well, mostly. A little slow, but she’s there.”

Joe scoffed and shook his head. “Damn, you’re really sticking up for her. Man, I’ve seen you crack jokes about every patient here, but now you won’t hear a word against her. What is it? You feel guilty or something? You have feelings for her?”

“Of course not. I just wanna keep the record straight, is all.”

“It’s whatever, man. But hey, you see that Nine Inch Nails is coming to Nashville in October?”

I shook my head, staring at the grass.

“Yeah, you wanna go? I’m not sure how much the price will be.”

I thought a moment before responding.

“If I still have a job, then sure, yeah. But I might not be able to.”

*  *     *     *  *

“Hey, Jan, you wanna carpool, or you wanna drive separately?” Mike called from the living room.

It had been five days since he’d shown up on Jan’s doorstep, and he showed no signs of leaving anytime soon.

“I think I’ll drive separately,” she replied as she finished putting on her makeup in the bathroom.

“Alright, cool. You know where it’s at, right?”

“Yeah. It’s at Spitfire.” Spitfire was a bar they frequented in downtown Maysburg that held shows most days of the week, usually of the underground variety.

“Sweet. Well, I’m gonna head out. See you there.”

“See ya!”

Jan listened as the door slammed shut, trying to dispel an uneasy feeling in her stomach. She couldn’t be sure why, but she had a strong urge to go outside and drag Mike back to the den and tie him up, to keep him from playing that night. But she’d promised him she’d go, and besides, Rosa would be there if anything went wrong. Not that anything would go wrong, of course. That was silly. It would be a great night, she’d have fun at the show, and go to bed exhausted with her ears ringing. And that was what she kept reminding herself as she left half an hour later, and what she kept telling herself as she made the drive to downtown.

She was relieved when she arrived to see that Mike was chatting effortlessly away with his bandmates by the bar, though a little troubled to see that Mike appeared to already be drunk.

“Hey, Mike, what’s up?” she greeted.

“Hey, Jan. How you doin’?” he slurred. He downed his shot and waved to the bartender for another.

“How much have you had?” she asked.

“Fuck if I know.”

“You sure you wanna be drinking that much before you go up?”

“Shit, Mike’s all good,” Greg, Slaugh’s guitarist, said, pushing his long slick hair back.

Jan knew what Greg meant. It wasn’t uncommon to see onstage-drunkenness, but she had noticed a desperation in Mike’s eyes that didn’t sit well with her.

“Yeah, Jan…. Quit buggin’ me. It’s gonna be a kick-ass show.” Mike laughed and patted the bassist on the back and downed the shot, waving again for another.

“Hey, is Rosa still coming?” he asked, eyes darting around nervously.

Jan nodded. “Last I heard.”

“Fuuuuuck,” he moaned, spit landing on Jan’s forearm. She wiped it off and excused herself to go to the bathroom, where she stayed until the first band played.

Jan had forgotten her worries after things kicked off. She soon was swept up in the music, thrashing around with Rosa right beside her the whole time, though she did go to the back when Slaugh came onstage, Mike stumbling up to the mic and slurring his speech.

“Hey, you fuckers,” he growled. “I’m three sheets to the fuckin’ wind, who’s with me?”

They all cheered and raised their beers, laughing along with him as he gave a sloppy grin.

“Cool. Well, we’re gonna kick some ass tonight, and I hope you guys do, too. Kick each other’s asses, and if the cops come, kick their asses, ‘cause fuck ‘em, am I right? Hehe. Well, we’re gonna be playin’ some stuff from our EP we’re about to come out with, Soul Prison. Alright, let’s get this shit started.”

They immediately jumped into the setlist, and the bar soon turned into a pulsating mob of sweaty bodies, and Jan was relieved to see that Mike was still coherent enough to perform. And things were great until about halfway through the set Jan noticed that Mike seemed to be agitated, staring at a single point in the crowd, his voice becoming more and more frantic, as though he was terrified of something. His vocals became increasingly shrill and ragged until he was full-out screaming. And not screaming in a good way but screaming as though for dear life. The other musicians seemed to be thrown off, and the crowd did as well. But Mike paid no attention, his eyes were transfixed upon a singular point, his face contorted in terror. Greg leaned over and whispered in his ear as he played. Mike jumped, glanced at him, and looked back to the crowd and screamed again, racing into the crowd and out the door.

“Is that part of the act?” the man beside Jan asked.

“I think so. I mean, the band is still playing, but they’ve been playing that same riff for a while now,” somebody else answered.

Jan stared at the door for a moment, stunned by the display.

“Jan!” she heard from next to her. She turned her head to see Rosa staring at her, eyes wide in worry. “Is he coming back?”

Jan opened her mouth but didn’t respond. Instead, she pushed her way through the crowd towards the door. As she reached the exit, she could hear the music stopping.

“Is he outside?” Rosa asked from behind her as Jan opened the door.

Again, Jan said nothing, for as she stepped outside, she saw his car peeling out of the parking lot, smoke billowing out from the tires as they barreled down the road. 