Sleep wouldn’t come. Night crawled to dawn. Dom was sat on the couch in front of the blank TV, trembling, thinking about Eddie and Dad. He had to find them and try and explain to them where he’d been. They were probably looking for him, worrying, most likely resigned to the notion that he was dead.
But, I’m alive and kicking, bro! I just feel, a little... crappy.
It was the first time in who knew how long he hadn’t had a venom fix and already he was getting the shakes. He looked down at his trembling hands, that itch in his brain starting to gnaw again, starting to annoy. He found himself licking his dry lips in an obsessive compulsive fashion. His system wanted venom, but his soul didn’t. He ran his hands through his hair, brought them down his stubbled cheeks and chin, his stare fixed on the window. Outside, Chicago was starting to wake from its slumber. More and more cars were now running through the streets, the blare of cop sirens replacing the scant birdsong of the previous hour. Welcome back home, Dom; the city, the hive. At least down in the basement he was in his own isolated womb, cocooned from the concrete jungle.
The city sounds continued to buzz in his head like flies while the cravings for venom got worse. He needed to get off the couch and do something. Eddie and Dad popped in his head again. His heart grew heavy. He wished he could contact them, could remember where they lived, their cell numbers, something. Anything. He’d scoured the apartment for an old cell that might be lying around, but there was nothing. There wasn’t even a trace of any of them on any social websites. It was like they’d all disappeared. All three of them.
He grabbed his head again and clawed at it, wishing for assistance from somewhere. Anywhere.
Come on, dude, you mean you can’t even remember where you grew up? Man, that venom must’ve really did the trick, huh?
Come on, think, think, think...
Then like divine intervention, something popped into head, those old, deep rooted memories dredging up from the black hole kicking in again: 58 Bachman Road.
He nodded slowly. Yeah. Yeah, that’s Dad’s address...
My old address.
He stared at the TV with a slack jaw, the frown embedded in his face staring back at him from the blank screen. Yeah, that was where he grew up. 58 Bachman Road. Edgewater. North Side.
His jaw raised itself back up into a grin. He chuckled. Good work, buddy. Now, let’s go find Dad.
He checked the time. 6:34 am. Not too early for a surprise visit. He shot up from the couch, venom cravings and shakes suddenly a distant memory.
Within twenty seconds, he was out the front door.
*****
He found his beat-up Ford parked in the small parking bay adjacent to the apartment block. It needed a clean, but that wasn’t important right then. He got in, and at any other time, that homely feeling would’ve engulfed him once more, but other things were at the front of his mind. He started her up, pulled out, and hit the road. Acting on instinct, he crossed the streets of Chicago, a hot excitement coursing through him. On his way, he cut off a couple of drivers to the sound of their horns. The noise passed right over his head. He was eager to get round to Dad’s, eager to hug him, eager to see the look on his face once his son turned up at the front door. He tapped the steering wheel with anxiety while waiting at reds, took any shortcuts he recalled, overtook any dawdling cars. He wanted his normal life back and there wasn’t any time to waste.
Eventually, he reached Edgewater and he turned into Bachman Road, the road he grew up on. The familiarity intensified as he rolled along the street, his heart hammering, until finally, he pulled up outside 58. He parked, killed the engine, and stared at the house with baited breath.
We’re here, buddy...
He nodded and smiled.
Well, what are you waiting for? An invitation? Go see Dad.
He jumped out the car, throwing the door shut behind him. He sucked in a huge breath as he jogged up the path, the grass either side of it neatly trimmed, just how Dad always liked to keep it. Now there were no nerves. It was pure excitement surging through him. It fizzed through his stomach like electric eels. He neatened his hair and his dirty clothes.
How am I gonna explain where I’ve been?
The question suddenly popped in his mind, bringing with it a slight dread. Yeah, how was he gonna explain all this off?
It’s not the time, Dom. First, make contact with Dad. All that other stuff is for later.
Good thinking...
He slowed as he reached the porch. He stepped up to the front door, butterflies now fluttering freely in his stomach, half from nerves, half from excitement. He knocked on the doorbell and the door duly opened. He threw on a smile, just for Dad.
The door swung wide, and Dom was ready to embrace his dad and let the tears flow, and tell him how glad he was to see him, and how much he’d missed him, and—
But, instead, his eyes fell upon a stranger. A younger man than Dad. But, not much younger. Dom flinched in surprise. He frowned, just as the man standing in the doorway frowned too.
Dom went to speak, but no words came out.
“Yes?” the man at the door asked.
Dom looked him up and down as if hoping it really was Dad, but he knew it wasn’t. He knew. He cleared his throat. “I’m, er... looking for John Dempsey,” he said to the bemused man at the door.
The man shook his head in response. “Dempsey, Dempsey…” he repeated to himself while he searched his memory banks.
Dom watched him, a deep sense of anticlimax setting in.
Then a sudden spark seemed to go off in the guy’s head. His eyes widened. “Oh, you mean the people who lived here before we moved in, right?”
Before...?
“Er... I guess so,” Dom tentatively replied.
The man shook his head, a look of sympathy now emerging on his face. “They left, son,” he told him. “Sorry.”
Dom looked down at his feet, devastated. “Oh. Okay, thanks...”
“Relatives?”
Dom looked up to meet his eyes. “My family.”
Now the man at the door looked down. “Oh.”
“I... lost contact with them. You don’t know where they went do you?”
The man shook his head. “Sorry, son. I don’t...”
Dom nodded his head in understanding. “Well, thanks anyway. Sorry to disturb you.”
“No problem. Hope you find them.”
“Yeah...” Dom said with a disappointed sigh. He turned away, taking in a lungful of air. He looked up at the grey sky, just as he heard the door close behind him. He promised he’d find them. He promised.
He trudged back to his car, his shoulders slumped as if God had just thrown a cinder block on each one.