| |
Soft morning light filtered through his window, warming his face, putting slight pressure on his closed lids and forcing them to open. He was afraid that Bailey would be standing over him, just as he had in that basement nine years ago.
He wiped the crust from his lids, feeling groggy and displaced, taking him a moment to remember what day it was. He looked around his room, locating his calendar hanging on the wall to the right of his bed, the date was circled in red ink. It was Saturday, most importantly it was Sandra’s birthday, and he had yet to acquire a gift for her.
“Fuck! Why now, why today?” He ran his hand over his head and treaded to his closet, pulling down a white tee with the retro Batman logo on it. As he pulled up yesterday’s jeans he thought on the dream—the memory—he tried to shake it, to get Bailey’s voice out of his head.
You were made for me...
Aaron opened his bedroom door and made his way down the stairs, adjusting his keys in his pocket. His feet moved sluggishly on the oak, thudding slowly and without rhythm, the scents of coffee and toast, as well as bacon and jam floating through the house, using his hunger to draw him to the kitchen, though the actual idea of eating made him nauseous.
He found his roommates in the dining room sitting down to a prepared breakfast, most likely created by Christy and Trish, with bottles of champagne and a carafe of orange juice.
They all looked at him as he came in. Sandra was sitting at the end of the table, her seat to the left of the fireplace, dressed in a pair of skimpy plum cotton sleeping shorts and a matching top, her hair rolled in curlers, a big smile spread on her face and last night’s lipstick still intact.
“Happy Birthday, sweetie!” he said to her.
She thanked him and told Aaron to join them at the table.
“I’m not really hungry....”
Sandra protested.
“Well, you don’t have to eat! But I know that you could use a cup of coffee.”
She waved her mug in his face, trying playfully to tempt him.
“All right.” He nodded and smiled, raising his arms in surrender and planting himself in the chair between her and Tammy. Andy smiled, at him but said nothing.
“So, what’s going on with your guy?” Sandra asked him, handing him the bowl of sugar which he dumped by the spoonful into his cup, followed by a couple of tablespoons of cream.
“No, it’s not important. Today’s your day and I don’t want to ruin it.” He shook his head, thinking of a kiss shared between two teenagers on a late night in April, and a nine-year gap waiting to be filled with answers.
“C’mon, tell me! It’s my birthday, and that’s precisely why you have to tell me!”
She curled her bottom lip in a pout, forcing Aaron to cave.
“Well,” he began, trying to avoid the five sets of eyes that were all focused on him, “he’s been avoiding me. We haven’t spoken since that night, and I don’t know what happened or what I did, but we haven’t had any contact.”
Sandra looked away from him and focused her gaze on the antique armoire by the window, her wheels seeming to spin.
“I’m sure there’s a reason,” Tammy responded and Christy and Trish followed it up with a nod, while Andy continued to say nothing.
“If there is a reason,” he sighed, “he hasn’t told me about it.”
Sandra whipped back around and looked at him, placing her hand on the blade of his shoulder.
“I’m sure it’ll work itself out; just give it time...” She offered him a warm smile and Aaron returned it uneasily, trying to shake off the dream.
––––––––
He and Tammy made their way through Bellis Fair Mall, moving in and out of the various shops, Aaron trying to find the perfect birthday gift. They had just reached Abercrombie & Fitch, loud dance music blaring from within the shop, its white siding and large double black paneled doors were wide open and that nauseating fragrance was being pumped out from the vents to the point that Aaron was sure that he would die choking on it.
“Maybe I could just get her one of the female models from this place, I’m sure she’d like that...” he said to Tammy, lifting the sleeves of a powder-pink fleece pullover.
“Wouldn’t we all?”
He looked at her and rolled his eyes.
“Okay, with the exception of you and every other gay man or straight woman, but for the rest of us!”
Aaron laughed and called her a dork. She flipped him off and hit him with a random fleece cap.
“I don’t have the slightest clue as to what I could get her. She’s Sandra, for Christ’s sakes! She’s always changing her interests.”
Tammy nodded as they made their way back out of the store, taking a left and heading back towards the food court, high school kids and families of all kinds moving around them and not paying attention to what they were doing or who was trying to get around them.
Aaron really hated weekends.
“Well, you passed over Hot Topic; I know you said you wanted to skip it—”
“Yeah, because we live in Bellingham, Washington, which means that everyone shops here, which further means that most of her gifts will come from here, which only concludes that most likely whatever I get her someone else will get as well!”
Tammy rolled her eyes and flipped her hair behind her. She clasped her arm around his and pulled him into the store.
“Now pick out something!”
“Yes sir, Sergeant Dyke, sir!” He rolled his eyes and she shoved him, telling him he had ten minutes.
He looked at the assortment of products. Spiked collars, fang caps, velvet gowns, and a vast collection of Nightmare before Christmas products as well as CD’s and posters. None of this interested him, and though he knew that Sandra would find joy in whatever he got her, he wanted it to mean something, so he returned to Tammy empty-handed.
“Well?” She asked him, wearing black skinnies and a form-fitting gray sweater, her eyes staring at him with a questioning.
“Not here!” He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back towards Macy’s. He wasn’t going to find anything in the mall, and in truth, it was making him start to feel claustrophobic.
––––––––
“Oh! You should have told me that you wanted to get her a book in the first place!”
They were standing in the middle of Barnes & Nobel, where the smells from the Starbuck’s café lingered in the air. What Aaron loved most about bookstores, even the chains, they were always so quiet—no matter how busy—no matter how technology changed, there was still a reverence that people had for books.
“Well, I actually didn’t come to the realization until we were standing in that God awful store!”
He began to make his way through the stacks, thinking at first on maybe getting her a book of lesbian erotica, but decided against this, most likely one of her friends would get this for her, and the whole point of this exercise was to get her something unique and original.
He made his way to the art section and spent several minutes looking through shelves, reading this title and that title, about to give up hope when to his luck he found a book about female nudity as celebrated in the Art-Deco movment, which he snagged right away, nearly knocking Tammy over as he spirited by, eager to get back home.
––––––––
“So, what’d you get her?” Tammy asked, taking off her jacket and reveling in the unusually warm air, the sunlight glistening in her honey hair and dancing in her eyes.
“A book of naked women,” Aaron answered.
The two of them made their way up the street, returning to their house from where the bus had dropped them off.
“Please tell me you didn’t get her a Playboy!”
Aaron rolled his eyes.
“No, it’s artistic; God, you think I’d actually touch a Playboy?” Tammy shook her head laughing, Aaron silently telling himself that perhaps today was going to be the first good day in his whole week.
He was still unable to shake the truth about Andy from his mind, as well as the words of Bailey Nguyen, hovering over him silently like a cloud, teasing him with threats of his possible resurrection
“God, I’m starving! And I have no idea why; I practically scarfed down breakfast!”
Aaron sighed as they turned down the walk and made their way up the steps of the sprawling Victorian.
“It’s probably your time of the month; you always eat like a beast when you reach your cycle.”
Tammy nodded, telling him that he’d better watch out for the next few days.
“Believe me, I know when to stay clear of you!”
They stepped inside the house and the foyer looked warm and inviting. It was golden and the dust danced like glitter in the sun.
“Where is everybody?” Tammy asked him.
The place was empty and the entire house was spotless and pristine, as if they were taking a tour through a historic home and forbidden to touch or sit or breathe on anything.
“I don’t know...” he replied, taking a right and walking into the large living room, where a collection of antique French and English furniture occupied the space and a set of French doors stood at the opposite side of the room, revealing the library. He went to these now, staring through the glass panes and looking around the room.
“Hmm...” Aaron opened one of the doors and walked in, where he was greeted by cool air and shadowed daylight, which gave the room a bluish hue.
Bookshelves reaching fifteen feet lined the walls, and in opposite corners were red leather club chairs and against another wall was a matching love seat which sat across from a large mahogany mantle fireplace.
There was an antique rug with hues of red, royal blue, and green lying atop the old mahogany floorboards. There was a large eucalyptus positioned in the corner between the window and the fireplace, the limbs stretching like arms to the ceiling and spreading out and the leaves and branches were like an umbrella above him.
He looked out of the window, which gave him a direct view into the backyard, and he spotted Christy and Trish resting with one another in the old, white swinging bench, surrounded by a garden of lilacs and roses in full bloom.
Aaron smiled and felt a strange warmth come over him, which was then proceeded by a quiet sadness, secretly wishing that it was he and Chase on the bench, wrapped up in the comfort of one another.
“Found them!” he said to Tammy, who stood confused in the living room, her arms folded tightly across her chest and a bemused look on her face.
“Where are they?” she asked him, following Aaron’s lead back out into the foyer and down the narrow hall next to the staircase which led to the back door.
“Here!”
They stepped outside and followed the brick path that lead out to the large fountain in the center. The path continued around it and finished at the back gate leading to the alley, which they only ever opened when they were having parties to make it easier for the people who had to park out back.
The sounds of birds as well as rushing water filled the air and the garden was full and lush. Roses of all colors climbed up around the walls and the gate, as well as ivy and lilac trees, their large emerald leaves illuminated by sunlight, and the redolence of the flowers and the fresh cool water lingered in the warm breeze.
“Well, aren’t you two just adorable!” Aaron said.
Christy and Trish looked up startled but humored, Trish yelling at them to take a picture.
“No, I think I’ve seen enough lady pictures for one lifetime!” Aaron responded as he and Tammy made their way to the bench, playfully nudging Christy to scoot over.
“Move it, I need to make way for my fat ass!”
They all fell into a chorus of laughter as Tammy dropped to the bench, the swing moving just a little before steadying itself into a nice, gentle pace. Aaron rested his head on Tammy’s shoulder and closed his eyes. The fruity perfume of her shampoo still lingered in her hair, entangled with the lingering aroma of her mousse that kept her tendrils intact.
“So, Aaron, did you find a present for Sandra?”
He looked at Trish and nodded, his body basking in the sunlight, the blue sky and white fluff of clouds bright above him.
“Yeah, we went to like twenty different places before he made a decision!” Tammy remarked and Aaron rolled his eyes in response and waved his hand in dismissal.
“You know I only did it because I wanted to get her something different, something that not everyone would think to get her... I mean, c’mon, it’s better than getting her a vibrator!”
“Hey!” Christy and Trish both proclaimed, defensive of the gift they had gotten her.
“Not that there’s anything wrong with getting her a vibrator, but I knew that someone else would, so I didn’t; that’s all.”
They nodded and fell silent, and as they sat there swinging casually in the sun he began to drift, to float down into the past, unable to avoid the onset of memories making their way once again to the surface, unrelenting and vivid in their assault.
It had been a day like this nine years ago when the world caved in on itself. The sun had shone just like this on bright green grass, glittering like emeralds set in a piece of jewelry. The sky had been this blue and the clouds just as powder-puff soft, looking like cushions in heaven, allowing for a comfortable place for angels to sit and look upon the glory of God.
That glory was the thing in the sheet with drying red spots that had travelled like a parade float in front of all of the innocent lambs.
He opened his eyes just as that uncomfortable chill ran through his body, causing the bench to shake on its chain. He rose to his feet rather abruptly, startling his roommates and even himself.
“You okay?” Christy asked.
Aaron nodded and ran his hand through his hair and rested the other on his hip. “Yeah, I just need to wrap her gift and figure out what I’m going to wear to her party. The Chateau isn’t really my scene...”
“It’s pretty much only Andy’s and Sandra’s,” Tammy answered back.
He laughed and tilted his head back towards the open door. “Yeah, yeah; that’s true.”
––––––––
Aaron stepped inside and closed the back door behind him gingerly, as if the noise would disturb a sleeping giant resting beneath the house. He walked back down the hall and took a right into the kitchen, desperate for a glass of water and a tranquilizer or two.
He opened the fridge and grabbed one of the opened bottles of champagne left over from Sandra’s birthday breakfast and took it upstairs with him, swigging the bottle as he made his way up the winding staircase.
In his room he stood staring at a blank canvas, desperate to paint but unaware of how to go about it. Sure, he knew the whole mechanics of the process, but what to actually paint or how to get it out was beyond him. It was drifting somewhere in his subconscious and it seemed like it wished to remain there, lost in the deep recesses of his mind.
After several minutes of just standing there and coming up with nothing he decided to give it a rest, throwing himself down onto his bed and taking in the realization that his drapes were still open. This light was rare and unusual, and his room was now strange and bright.
Why are they opened? I didn’t open them.
He rose from his bed and made his way to his closet, the fabric of his garments seemed so different, so unusual in the daylight. They spilled out of the closet like a river and that idea of a river made him think of blood.
He had seen rivers of blood.
He had caused rivers of blood to flood out as if breaking through a dam.
A dam made of tissue and ivory.
He shook the perverse thought from his head and began to sing to himself, some nameless song and completely unimportant, but it was working in its attempt to get him to ignore the past. There was no reason to think on that, none whatsoever. It was Sandra’s birthday and that meant that he had to have fun and avoid the truth, no matter how hard it tried to get at him, kicking and screaming and clawing for his attention like a toddler desperate and needy at its parent’s feet.
He grabbed a pair of black 5’11’s which he threw on the bed, followed by a fitted black mesh Helmut Lang long sleeve tee and his usual boots.
“I guess this is bondage enough... should have stopped by the pet store and picked up a collar.” He laughed and shook his head.
“Oh, lord!” Aaron yawned and laid down on his bed, clutching the bottle of champagne and giving it another swig. All he wanted to do was float.
“They all float down here...” he whispered, thinking of Pennywise’s iconic words.
––––––––
The day came and went and darkness descended on the city, casting his room in eerie nighttime shadows, the orange street lamps bursting through his windows as they flickered on at their appointed time.
He had been lying there for several hours, drinking, dragging himself to his open window and lighting up a cigarette or a joint; doing whatever possible to keep his mind busy.
“Aaron....”
The voice was familiar, and yet he was having difficulty placing it, as if his mind had become so preoccupied with being unoccupied that he could no longer comprehend anything going on around him, and even forgetting the names of the people he loved.
“Who is it?” he asked, keeping his head directed out of the window, taking a drag from his cigarette and clutching the neck of the champagne bottle like it was an anchor holding him in place and keeping him from drifting off out into the night sky like The Red Balloon.
It was such an odd question. He knew this person, this woman who spoke his name, but he could not summon her identity. He could not recall the face that the voice belonged to.
“It’s me, Andy. Are you all right?”
Andy.
He felt stupid for not realizing it, and the last thing he wanted to do was raise more questions. Chase Sheppard had fucked him up. He had been able to fake it for so long, but with Chase Sheppard eighth grade hung around him like cologne.
“I’m fine.” He didn’t care that he lied; he had nothing to confess. There was nothing worse than sharing inner turmoil. He was now convinced of this, and surely the proof could be found in Andy Stone.
“You sure?”
He nodded to her as he strained to make out her form in the darkness. She was backlit in blazing hall light, making it so that Aaron had to hold his hand up to guard against it.
He watched as the form of his friend made its way to his bed and offered him that familiar warm smile.
“So, you excited about the party tonight?” he asked her, trying to make himself sound normal and free of his burdens.
“Of course! Wait until you see what I’m going to wear!”
“That’s good; I’ve been trying to figure out what I was going to wear all day.” A big lie. “But I finally figured it out and I’m quite pleased.”
Aaron smiled at her and she laughed, kissing him on the cheek and making her way back out of the room.
After several moments Aaron rose up and stripped down to his underwear, thoughts of salt and blood filling his mind, the memory of wet, red tiled floors and open bedroom windows whispering to him from the shadows of his room.
“I need to shower.”
––––––––
He had been unaware of the time, surprised when he looked at the gaunt grandfather clock to see that it was already five minutes into the nine o’clock hour. The only light was coming from the Tiffany lamp in the living room.
As he went into the dining room he found a note resting on the white table cloth, the yellow of the paper looked harsh with the blue ink written on it. He scanned it over for a second, realizing what he had already known; his roommates had gone on without him, and suggested he called for a cab.
He folded it and rolled his eyes, tucking the note into the pocket of his black wool trench coat. He would rather walk than pay for a cab. He strolled to the front door and opened it, the cool night air smelled of damp and the dew on the lawn outside caught his attention and made him smile as he watched it twinkle in the porch light.
He closed the door and locked it, making his way down the steps and towards the campus, cutting between buildings and body clusters. He took a right at Bill McDonald Parkway and headed towards the main drag of Samish Way, which snaked towards downtown with cheap decades-old motels and restaurants that were once glamorous, but with development of the Northside, were now as much relics as downtown had once been.
The difference between the worn strip of Samish Way and downtown, was that downtown Bellingham had always found a way to bounce back. It had appeal, history, parks and quaint homes and buildings. Samish Way was just a scattered retro strip that was continually invaded by fast food chains in the Seventies and Eighties, which snuggled themselves right in between these once chic and mid-century modern restaurants.
The street was busy with traffic. Everyone getting to their Saturday night plans. He glanced at the campus of Mariner High School as he passed. He had gone to school here when he was sixteen, after each new school back in Tacoma had ended up with people discovering who he was and speculating if he had killed Bailey or not, forcing him to transfer as far away as possible.
His family had been from here. He was born in Bellingham, and its curse that those born in Bellingham were condemned to always return there—that they would die there—seemed to hold true. This curse that had been as a result of the families of Chinese miners killed in a tunnel blast that had resulted in no justice for the families. Legend had it that the families were quoted as cursing the people of Bellingham, and that all those born in the city would die in in it, making it so that even the ones who got away, always found themselves returning—often for good.
Aaron believed in the curse. He had witnessed it in kids he had gone to school with that he had found on Facebook and Myspace that had left to go to school or pursue their dreams, only to end up back in Bellingham. He had also seen classmates who had been born someplace else and only lived in Bellingham for a few years, leave and never return, because things ended up working out for them.
He wondered if the curse could only summon you a handful of times, and if you could prove your resolve it would eventually lose its power and let you go?
He had already left and returned twice. After the attempt at sixteen to start again up here had failed, all because by the end of the school year, it had been discovered after he stupidly confessed it to a girl he had thought was a good friend. She had been in love with a guy that Aaron had gone out on a couple of dates with. It had been the worst day of his life, bested only by the day Bailey had died.
She had told everyone that he had beaten Bailey violently, that Aaron had all but confessed it to her and that he was dangerous. Most didn’t believe it, but there were enough whispers that Aaron knew he had to leave the city completely. Yet three years later, he returned. Called to it, as if he were hearing the city sing his name.
After his first year at the acclaimed Savannah College of Art and Design, Aaron Christopher found himself longing for Bellingham’s own eerie haunted streets and spectral houses. So he returned, and without the suffocating confines of high school he was nameless and faceless—just another ghost of blood and bone navigating from one minute to the next and trying not to wisp away completely and become nothing more than vapor for everyone else to breathe in.
His mind swam with uncertainty, his gift for Sandra was wrapped in simple violet paper and tucked inside of a black and violet gift bag with matching tissue blooming out of it.
He wondered about Chase Sheppard. He wondered if they would ever speak again. It seemed unlikely. They shared a past that was as damning as its truth, and the last thing that needed to come from it was a relationship. No matter what he told himself, it could never be otherwise. He hated secrets; he hated that he had them, and yet he knew that the key to his own survival was the keeping of those secrets.
There was the sound of whistling just beyond his shoulder; a morose tune that had begun to follow him as soon as he made his way under the overpass. It was like a tune that you would expect to hear at a funeral, and for a moment a picture of Bailey’s coffin being laid to rest at the New Tacoma Cemetery came back to him.
He hadn’t gone to the funeral, but the death had been so tragic and shocking for the times that his service had made the front page of the News Tribune.
He began to pick up his pace, just enough to gain some distance, but not enough that it looked as if he were scared. The road was dark and empty and there wasn’t a single vehicle driving by to make him feel safer.
Aaron came to the conclusion that he could die on this lane and no one would ever know.
He felt the solitude of his surroundings. The unknown woods that neighbored his right shoulder, the stark homes with black windows to his left, and the lone back road that guided his path ahead. The sky seemed heavy now, his own thoughts jumbled and the thick confusion was blinding; if it hadn’t been for the whistles that kept him alert, he knew that he could have very easily become lost in this beauty.
“The dead don’t come back, the dead don’t come back...” he repeated over and over again like a personal mantra, as if it were a charm that could simply make all of the bad things in the world go away.
The fear that took hold of him was paralyzing. It was only a couple of yards to his destination and yet he was permitted no leave. He hadn’t planned on turning around, on attempting to stare his demon down and look it in the eyes, but his curiosity took control and despite himself he was already pivoting on his heel, preparing to face this devil.
The man was strong and tall and walked with a casual confidence. His whistling grew louder, and at first he had thought that it had been someone he knew and that they were just playing a prank on him—but with each approach the stranger made, the more dangerous Aaron realized that he was.
He shut his eyes as tight as he could, beginning to repeat his mantra, his heart slamming in his chest as his legs shook and his knees threatened to buckle. Death was imminent and it was tangible. It lingered behind him and hunted him like Bailey had hunted him in the past.
“The dead don’t come back, the dead don’t come back....”
He had lost count of how many times he had repeated this, feeling that it could never be enough, that Bailey would always come for him, as if no matter how many miles separated them the grave was always a step away.
Cautiously he opened his eyes, realizing that the tune had faded and the footfalls had seemed to go with it.
The road was empty, save for Aaron and his erratic heartbeats, and this was a strange comfort to him; this dark and isolated lane suddenly absent of its apparitions.