We meets that Patty missus, the one from the film, gettin out of a cab in front of the Hatchet. She got this flashy gaylord type in tow whose teeth are too fuckin white for my likin. He got granny glasses on with no fuckin lenses. They each got little plastic glasses of red wine and they’re laughin together about something that musta gone on in the cab. But when she turns around and I’m standin right there her face drops and she straightens out her sparkly blouse.
—Hello Clayton.
And then the gaylord lowers his glasses, like he cant fuckin well see me proper through the goddamn frames, and gives me the special once-over.
—Oohhh, Patricia, is this our enforcer? Sexy.
He holds out his hand, limp, like I’m s’pose to kiss it instead of break it, but I dont bother either way.
—So ahhh…when should I expect to get paid for the other night?
—Clayton, you assaulted, you hospitalized one of my employees…
—Well no, not exactly, if someone’d hear my side.
—He had seven stitches above his eye.
—Does no one know what’s down in that fuckin basement I wonder?
Donna pulls up to the curb then and toots the horn and I sees that that tasty young Claire is there in the front seat.
—Well, whatever went on, all I know is that Darren might be pressing charges.
—He came at me from behind! I was securing the premises like you said. And a hundred bucks is what I’m owed.
—Well I already gave it to your uncle.
She pushes past me and in through the front doors of the Hatchet.
—What?
—I gave it to Valentine at the wrap party last night. He said he’d pass it along.
—Are you fuckin mental or something?
She disappears inside and the gaylord gives me arm a little squeeze as he’s passin me.
—We’re all mental in our own little way hey Clayton?
He winks then and gives me arm another pump before he skips inside behind Patricia. I knows fuckin well I wont see a cent of that money off Val. What am I gonna do, just come out and ask him for it? Jesus.
Charges. What fuckin next? The world is gone so fuckin backwards. The way I came up was if someone gave you a smack you either struck him back right there on the spot or you squared off out behind the snack bar on a Friday night. Charges. And sure there I was in the line of duty. And he’s the very one who handed me the bat and the flashlight the night before. What was I s’pose to do with a goddamn baseball bat all night, hunt fuckin rats? And sure what was he expectin, fuckin around and gettin me on the go like that? He got what was comin to him as far as I’m concerned. And he’s lucky it was only the flashlight I used. Seven stitches? Sure that’s fuck-all.
Donna the speed freak with greasy Jane in the back beggin her to slow down. We’re sluggin back piss-warm wine coolers, takes the turn onto the Middle Cove parkin lot doin about eighty clicks. That’d be just fuckin perfect wouldnt it, to die in a car with this lot, caught dead with a wine cooler drove up me hole. We all piles out and down to the beach with that fat smell of seaweed and salt fillin me lungs. The roar from the waves. There’re a few little fires on the other end of the beach with bottles clinkin and the burnt smell of marshmallows on the wind. Donna tries to take me hand but that little Claire, the one with the gear that we snorted off the dash on the way out, I can feel her watchin, so I scoots on up ahead.
After I gets a good fire goin (cause none of these pansies knows nothing about startin one) we all has a toke with some of Claire’s good gear mixed in for flavour. The back of me throat goes right nice and numb so I can just pour the coolers down without hardly swallowin. Donna says she’s cold and tries to snuggle up next to me. I lets her for a second but then it feels too put on, so I starts to strip down.
—What are you doing?
—Goin for a dip, what’s it look like?
—Clayton, it’s pitch black. It’s freezing out.
—Anybody else?
I gives Claire a slick look then cause I’d love to get her in the bare buff and I wouldnt give a fuck, with Donna right here on the beach, I wouldnt give a fuck. Cause I knows where me heart is not alright.
But no one else is gonna bother cause they never heard tell of swimmin in the salt water, unless they were off in Florida on a cozy little family vacation. But I’ve been jumpin off the wharf and fallin outta boats now since I was yay fuckin high and it’s so long since I had a swim I’m just gonna go for it.
I stands at the edge of the water and lets it lap over me toes and yes it’s fuckin well cold enough. Me bag pulls right tight. But I can hardly change me mind now with all them fuckin city dwellers watchin, dyin to see me back down. I stands there for a bit, gapin into that enormous black, the seagulls squelchin overhead. Donna says please be careful Clayton. A wave laps up over me knees and it’s so fuckin freezin it almost guts me, but I just says fuck it and dives straight in before I loses me nerve.
The salty death cold cuts right through to the marrow in me bones. There’s a bit of a headache but it’ll pass. The swell is rockin me back and forth and pullin me farther away from the beach. I flips onto me back to stare up at the never-ending gloom, me feet just barely touchin the smooth rocks underneath. I stays like that, on me back, till I cant feel the bottom no more and the sounds of the fire and the seagulls are duller now with this pull, this massive strength wantin me to just keep driftin out into the cold black nothing to join to the thousands upon thousands of other lost, unsettled souls.
On the upside of a swell I hears Donna’s raspy laugh on the wind and I catches a glimpse of all them people, people I dont know, who dont know me, who’ll never know me, standin around pokin sticks at the fire I just made for ’em. And I knows I could go back to that, swim in to shore and wrap meself in Donna’s blanket from the car, mosey on back to St. John’s and live in that rickety little world I got rigged up. Wait around for the big something to happen, for everything to just fall from the sky and be alright, for that someone who’s out there somewhere who’s gonna make it through with me and point me heart in the right direction, rid me of this coldbloodedness I cant seem to shake no more. I could go back to that.
Or I could drift away and never be heard from again.
Sink into the black till I’m more welcome than I’ve ever been anywhere.
I hears me mother’s laugh in that fine girlish way she had. One more snippet of conversation from the fire, the beach rocks rollin and crashin against the cliff face. There’s gonna be a dirty scar on me hand from the sambuca burn cause it’s turned bright fleshy white in the dark. I have a vague sense of me legs but it’s like they’re melding with the water and the black, black night, and then that emptiness coats me over and that sound again, that nothingness, that hard disappointing sense of silence like dust settling on a playground after all the children just abandoned their rides at once cause where they knew I was comin.
The sand and rocks between me toes and the wind at me chest and I’m walkin upright again. The fire is there and there’s a blanket and me eyes are burnin and swole up I s’pose from the salt water. I’m tryin to settle me breath and I can feel everyone not lookin at me while Donna says right soft, with her hand kneadin the back of me neck:
—Well, there you are. We thought we lost you for a second.
And yes I thinks yes, I s’pose you did, yes…