Ionic Relapse Page 12

What if she knows, huh? What you gonna’ do? Make up a lie for that lie and repeat the process until you drown in a pool of untruths?

  Alright, relax. You don’t have to be honest with her about why you left. Probably better that she doesn’t know how neurotic you are. But you do have to say something.

  The real question is: How deep of a hole can you inadvertently dig for yourself?

  Let’s stay tuned to find out.

  As Kieffer dumped out the change he owed and stepped out of line, his legs autonomously carried him to his usual table nestled in the back corner. Ashley and Kieffer always sat together at lunch, joking and laughing freely about random things that only they found funny. Mind racing, he sheepishly approached Ashley who was already sitting down in her usual spot, distracted by her phone.

  “Hey, Ashley.” His voice was barely audible over the surrounding chatter.

  “Kieffer madness!” Ashley cooed jokingly as he slid his tray over and sat down across the table from her. “Eating lunch today? Odd. Can’t remember the last time I’ve seen you do that— So, how did that family thing turn out?” she asked while teasing a rogue curl of shiny gold hair that fell loosely to the side of her temple.

  Preloaded with a response, Kieffer averted his eyes down to the etched-out tabletop. He quickly glanced at several stick figure pot leaves carved next to the words SUCK MY TAINT colored in with blue ink. “Yeah. My mom was just freaking out over my uncle Willie. Weird accident. Not much to tell.”

  “Oh my god— seriously?” Her face grew lined with interest.

  “Yeah, he’s doing okay, though. They’ll probably let him out of the hospital in a couple—”

  “What happened? Come on, man. Details.” He could see her genuine interest in what he had to say. She was hanging from his every word. The look on her face was kind but longing. Something had changed in her since the last time they were together.

  Kieffer couldn’t help but laugh out of nervousness. Still trying to suppress a smile, he looked right into her wide blue eyes. “I have an alcoholic uncle who lives upstate. He’s one of those crazy loner types who lives out in the boonies with his dog and refuses to buy a computer. Well, he got hurt ten years back while working at the paper mill up there. Stories differ, but basically, he drove a forklift off a six-foot loading dock. He said the accident was a mechanical issue and sued the mill when they let him go. He won the case and now doesn’t work at all. Ever since then, he’s been getting monthly compensation checks. My mom says all he does is drink beer and punch his dog all day.”

  Ashley frowned at this and said, “He sounds like a real... winner.” The real words locked behind her tight bubblegum lips. Probably out of respect to Kieffer. Again, something different was in the air.

  “That’s not how I’d describe him,” Kieffer added, hoping to dissociate himself from his imaginary white trash relatives. “I guess the night of the accident Willie had just polished off a few six packs and then decided to go back to the store to restock. So, on his way through the front yard to his car, the dog's leash somehow gets wrapped around his ankle. It was one of those ones with the steel cable wrapped with nylon. Real tough. The leash he’s got is almost a hundred feet long. He keeps it tied it to a fifty-foot cedar. Why so long, you ask? Because Willie enjoys watching his black lab, Garf, charge down across the yard after deer. So when Garf gets to the bottom of the slope, he practically snaps his own neck.”

  “He’s a turd burglar. I got it.” Ashley chimed in, again suppressing her usual no-holds barred commentary. “Get to the part where this shithead gets hurt.” A momentary slip. She realized what she had said and blushed a little. “Sorry.”

  Ashley blushing? Saying sorry?? Something is up here, and I’m not sure what.

  Don’t just gawk at her. Say something!

  Clearing his throat, Kieffer averted his eyes back to the graffiti tagged table.

  “Right, anyway, Willie is so pissy drunk that he doesn’t notice he’s accidentally lassoed himself. How it got wrapped around his leg without him noticing is anyone's guess. But considering he was two sheets to the wind, I think assumptions can be made. So, he’s got this leash dragging behind him, and Ol’ Willie just stumbles down the driveway and gets in his car. He starts it up, turns up the radio, and is on his way.

  “As he's just passing his mailbox at the end of his long dirt driveway, he feels a real hard tug on his leg and then nothing. All the feeling in it is gone and then he feels a stinging numbness that pulses up and down his entire left side. The pain is so intense that he pulls over and tries to get out, but can’t. Thinking his leg is asleep or he’s having a stroke, Willie reaches down and picks up his own hairy chicken leg. He figured it out eventually and got to a hospital in time. Good news, I guess, would be that at least it was a clean break. He brought it into the E.R. in the cooler he kept in his car for beer. Hmm, I wonder if that’s considered irony?”

  Ashley simply stared at Kieffer, her shiny sapphire eyes bright with wonder. She scanned his face for levity. He felt like he could look into nothing but those eyes for an eternity. Two tiny windows into nirvana.

  “...WHAT?!” Ashley yelled at him, drawing some attention from surrounding groups of kids and cliques stationed at their tables.

  Kieffer smiled at her and said, “Just kidding. My grandfather had another heart attack. He’s fine. Has them at least once or twice a year. I personally think he fakes it for attention, but who knows? He throws in a lot of dramatics and gets rushed to the hospital every time. And every time they tell him that he should stop smoking and eat better, but he never does. My mom worries every time that it’s the big one. My life is like a Sanford and Son rerun.” Not a great lie, but better than the first. It would do.

  “Stanford and what?” Ashley asked. “Never heard of it. Either way, you had me going there for a little bit. I’m glad that it wasn’t anything serious, though. Well… you know what I mean. I was afraid that you left so suddenly yesterday for… other reasons.” Subtly, her demeanor shifted. Ashley’s hands drifted to her lap; her head tilted forward to avert her eyes from his. A guarded demur that Kieffer wasn’t used to seeing with her. He realized that she too had something to say about yesterday’s kiss.

  Here it comes. Time to nut-up.

  “No, what happened yesterday was… good…”

  Good? That’s the best you could come up with? GOOD?? Jesus on a jelly donut Christ, Kieffer. You might as well leave now. There's no chance of you coming out on top of this one, bro.

  He entertained the thought of simply walking away before Ashley broke in. Her voice uncharacteristically low and unsure.

  “Yeah… so…” she trailed off. Her eyes looked everywhere but at Kieffer. A hot wave of overwhelming embarrassment and remorse swept over him. He knew by her sheepish demeanor that he was being let down gently. He had his one shot and managed to completely miss the target. His one and only free arrow was stuck in a tree somewhere, too high for him to reach. With only three excruciatingly long minutes left until lunch was over, Kieffer’s mind still screamed at him to get out.

  If you walk away now, you might be able to save face later. I know, you won’t do kissy-kissy with her ever again, but maybe you can salvage the friendship. Or maybe not. Who knows?

  No question about it, though. You WILL die alone.

  Defeated, he started to stand up, tray in hand, when Ashley’s voice slapped him out of the thick cloud of self-pity that helmeted his brain.

  “Wanna’ come over again after school today? If not, it’s cool. I know this is kind of last minute.” Her tiny white hands were clasped together in front of her chest. She looked to Kieffer like a reformed nun praying to a God she once denounced. Hopeful that He will forgive her for her lapse in faith and take her back under his umbrella of limitless adulation.

  Taken aback by the sudden turn in events, Kieffer froze half-crouched over the now cold tray of food. He didn’t have to search Ashley's eyes for any misguided attempt at a joke. Somehow, some way, he
was being granted another chance.

  Wow. Maybe there IS a God.

  Completing his rise from the table, he stood and looked down at her. He was aware of the seconds between speech racing by him like dandelion seeds caught in a gust of sheltering wind. They boldly faced each other, both completely unprepared for such an emotionally serious discussion.

  “Sure” he finally said, his voice strangled under the invisible hands closing around his throat. “Want me to bring anything?” He immediately hated himself for asking such a pointless question. Chastising himself from the outside in for having the brain of a schizophrenic and the social graces of an alpaca, Kieffer was forced to let the question hang.

  “Yeah, Chapstick.” Ashley gave Kieffer a big one eye wink right before the bell crashed into their ears. Everyone around Kieffer, including Ashley, stood up and herded their way to the next period class. The cafeteria quickly thinned out until eventually there was only Kieffer left.

  Standing over his uneaten tray of food, he restarted the anal-retentive ponderings of possible scenarios to come. He told himself with as much conviction as he could accumulate that this time would be different. No matter what his interior voices told him, he would see this through. No more sacrificing the present to prevent an uncertain future.

  This time, it was do or die.

  Chapter 8

  April 4, 2006

  3:21 pm

  Hampden, Maine

  They had gotten their Sociology projects back from Ms. Craig earlier that day, forcing them to carry around a 22 x 28-inch sheet of unbendable paper for the last four periods. Ashley had rolled hers up using a hair tie. When offered an extra tie for his project, Kieffer refused. He wanted to keep his poster wrinkle-free so he could hang it up in his room to admire. He had put a lot of effort into his project and had spent weeks just trying to decide who to choose for the board. All three pictures were printed on special laminate paper for optimal quality.

  Feeling like a human sailboat, his beanpole body the wooden mast that clung to the giant sheet, he walked with Ashley in the lingering winter winds of the bright April afternoon. Maine’s rugged winters tend to hang around clear through to May, causing a seasonal battle every year across the long, sparsely populated stretch of state. The mountains of snow left over from January and February slowly get pummeled down by rain by mid-March, ushering in the strong April winds and cold showers. Problem is, the sleet keeps coming and has nowhere to go. It can’t absorb into the ground because the soil hasn’t thawed yet with the drainage pipes all packed with ice. It just sloshes and freezes over everything. No amount of rock salt or sand can keep it off the roads. The dreaded black ice hides under it on nights when the windchill gets into the negatives, waiting to claim another victim.

  Kieffer tried to keep his feet dry by avoiding the many potholes full of slush and mud on the way, but his anxious thoughts distracted him. By the time they made it to her house, Kieffer could feel chunks of half-frozen dirt crunching between his toes. He barely noticed the grating numbness at his feet over the screaming and taunting voices that bickered in his head. The closer he got to her house, the more conversations started sprouting up with alternate dilemmas.

  Her parents might already be home. Maybe they parked in the garage. It is an attachment, so how would you ever know? There’s probably someone there. Can you handle that?

  Ok. Maybe they aren’t. Then what? Are you ready to make out for an hour straight?

  I see. Well, you know what that will lead to, right?

  Yup. That’s right. Sexy Time. And I don’t even need to ask if you're ready for that. No offense, but you don’t have the balls. Yeah, you got those hairless little grapes down in your pants, but that’s not enough. You need to man up. If things start getting serious then—

  Wait, what if this is your only chance to get laid? You don’t wanna’ be one of those guys who loses his virginity to a Taiwanese tranny in his mid-thirties, do you? This might be the only chance you will ever have to become a man.

  But then again—

  Kieffer tried his best to ignore the illogical, focusing hard on the conversation he and Ashley were having about how The Butterfly Effect could have been a good movie.

  “Poor Ashton Kutcher,” Ashley said as they cautiously walked around a meteor strike sized puddle on the shoulder of the road. “Every role he plays is Kelso, even if it’s not.”

  They rounded the corner of her street. The little red oak door off in the distance got bigger and bigger with each step. The rust-spotted yellow buggy Kieffer had seen pull into the driveway yesterday was nowhere to be found. Feeling the bubbling unease starting to gradually settle into the pit of his stomach, he followed Ashley through the front door and into the living room.

  “Where should I put this?” Kieffer asked Ashley as they walked through the modestly furnished living room to get to the kitchen. A large burgundy colored couch sat in the center of the room. The cold fireplace yawned up at them. Its mouth full of ash and dust particles clinging to the sunlight stretching in from the uncurtained windows. Once again, Kieffer found himself alone with Ashley after school in an empty home. Same scenario, different room. She assured him that her mom and stepdad wouldn’t be home for at least an hour. Plenty of time to “hang out” without interruption.

  “Just set it on the couch,” Ashley said. “I’m sure it’ll be safe.” Her smile beckoned him to follow her. Her paint-chipped fingers tugged at the black Hawthorne Heights t-shirt that hung loosely off her budding chest. She paused a few moments in the doorway, watching his lack of reaction, before disappearing past the open frame and into the kitchen.

  Stuck in proverbial quicksand, Kieffer struggled to process any real thought or action. Everything in him was consumed by hypothetical scenarios yet to come. Each second revealing another randomized element to account for. Unpredictabilities aside, things looked good for him. This was the time to stay positive and not get bogged down in obsessive bullshit.

  Last chance to dance. Get in there, stud.

  Slowly, he propped his poster face up on the couch before shoving his reluctant body into the sunlit kitchen. Spotless tiled counters and chromed-out appliances sparkled under the basking rays of the setting sun. Heatless bans of dancing light filled the crystal glass of the wide bay windows set to the far end of the kitchen. Beyond it laid the backyard, unusually green for the time of year. He could see in the distant treeline the white framing of a gazebo. Wind chimes and empty birdhouses hung carefully from its tall pillars. Kieffer couldn’t help but admire how nice the yard was. All he could see from his kitchen window was the Greek pizza shop across the street. And he lived on the third floor.

  “Wanna’ drink?” Ashley asked, bent over in the open fridge door. “I have orange juice, Vitaminwater, and wine coolers.”

  “Any chance those wine coolers are B&J’s? I have a preferred brand.”

  Ashley laughed with her head still ducked into the fridge, “Seagrams. Sorry.” Then, rolling out a bad cockney British accent, she added, “Might I interest you in a flavorless bottle of Kool-Aid powder and tap water, my good sir?” She turned back towards him, two murky plastic bottles in hand, and closed the fridge with one pass of her foot. For a second, just before the door slammed shut, the light from the open fridge silhouetted every curve, every subtle line of her figure, making Kieffer feel—

  Alright, alright. Quit flicking your bean and say something. You look like a psychopath.

  “Sounds great. Thanks.” Kieffer took the bland looking bottle and set it down unopened on the counter to his left.

  Ashley opened hers, took several loud sips, and said, “I never knew VITAMINS could taste sooo good!” She threw in one of her signature forced belly burps at the end for extra zazz.

  The mood from that point started to drastically shift; Kieffer sensed it. After they shared a short laugh, the room grew quiet, fast. It occurred to him that he would have to make the first move. Something that he wasn’t completely confident in do
ing. Really struggling to find courage, Kieffer blurted out the first passable thing that came to mind.

  “I bet there’s more vitamins in that Brillo pad than this stuff.” One shaky finger pointed to the sink by the corner. No longer able to keep the smile off his face, Kieffer chuckled at his own verbal spewage like a trashcan robot who just told his first knock-knock joke. What started as giggling escalated to detached hysterics. Bent over laughing, his face grew hot and slick with sweat. From somewhere else he realized that something was wrong. He purged the nervousness out of his system and then turned to see Ashley’s response.

  Nothing.

  She didn’t laugh. She didn’t smile. She just looked at him with two pitted black eyes, empty inkwells that sawed clear through raw muscle to his aching bones. Her basic shape was the same, but it wasn’t the same person. It was as if Ashley had been cloned but something terrible had gone wrong in the process. The skin on her face, once so soft, was now peeled and torn open. Long, opaque strips of pulpy white tissue sprung from her cheeks like an overstuffed cushion. Exposed muscle twitched and snapped under the strain of whatever was happening underneath the loose flaps of dripping skin. Kieffer watched in stilted horror as her greyish green flesh bubbled with festering sores that oozed steaming chunks of—

  “Kieffer? Are you ok?”

  Kieffer heard this from somewhere deeper than what was standing in front of him. The echoing sound of Ashley’s real voice brought him back. In a millisecond, the real Ashley stood at his side, one arm wrapped loosely around his narrow waist.