Novel rewrite Prologue - Act One
So here it is. Approximately a fifth of the book. Keep in mind it is still rough. Still, this would be a good indication of the style and prose as well as the content the book will possess. Any thoughts on it would be appreciated but I suppose the only question I ultimately care about it...do you want to read more? Curious to see how invested the reader will get in the story and where it is going. To those who needed a more complete work I hope this suffice. Thanks for reading!
PROLOGUE
Welcome to Ashton. What was once a thriving, middle-class metropolis, has become infected. This city was built from the ground up by the working class, its blood pumps through construction and booming infrastructure. Once it was the heart of the automotive and manufacturing corporations. These corporations were forced to leave. Bloodsucking unions jacked up wages to the point of no return and to prevent buckling they fled town. Industrial plants litter the city like remnants of a bygone era. Tens of thousands of jobs were lost when the industries made for cheaper pastures. Commerce began to fold. Family businesses went under. Houses were no longer constructed. Over the past few years many people have moved away. Abandoned houses pepper the residential areas. The roads are in a state of decay many impassible by vehicles. No funds existed to fix the roads, nor did anyone on the council have the will to rejuvenate it. The city was indeed dying.
This working class stronghold has eroded into a lower-class cesspool of contamination and crime. The veins of the city are poisoned with drugs and alcohol. The denizens of this once proud place have devolved into beings of incessant need and vice. Those who stayed have been forced to take demeaning jobs, or live off social assistance and whatever they can pander from government programs. Poverty stricken and dirty, families attempt to lead normal lives, however their struggle is in vein. The rise in teenage pregnancy serves simply another dredge on the support system. Many of these families are irreparably damaged; domestic abuse is an extremely common thing. Sexual assault has been a growing charge as the people of Ashton become more depraved and unabated as the towns police force dwindles.
Deep beneath the skin lays the source of the infection. It is within the people who inhabit this dying city. A scourge of drug use has overtaken the populous. Reflecting this is the wave of petty crime; muggings, robberies, break-ins and grand theft auto are the commonest. It’s come to where the streets are no longer save to inhabit, each person passed creates a sense of dread and anxiety. Will they beat you? Kill you for the five dollars you have in your pocket? Are they on some crazy drug and they’ll attack you and maul you? And if they aren’t antisocial thugs they are desperate and homeless and will either beg for the few dollars you have left. Among the most profitable businesses now are drug trafficking, prostitution and thievery.
At the centre of Ashton is the downtown sector. This is the blackened heart of the city, where its decay is readily apparent. The only stores still open serve food, liquor or cigarettes. Comprising the area are dozens of low income apartment buildings. Despite business collapsing, it houses tens of thousands of people of the worst kind. Don’t get the wrong idea. Many decent and virtuous people still live here out of necessity. These people are targets for the seedy underbelly. It is only a matter of time before the infection of the city gets inside them, or they die. Until then they walk with their heads down, living in constant fear and aggregation of the scoundrels amongst them. The dregs of downtown are despicable people (if you can call them that); living with blinders on, only existing to fuel their own wretched vices. Unless someone is murdered, the police do not enter downtown and even then they arrive with several cruisers. Downtown now belongs to the vagabonds, felons and addicts. It is in this mutinous and inhumane place where we will spend the duration of this tale.
Lloyd traversed the destitute city. Fresh from his job at a local grocery store, he was itching for a fix. Soon it would flow through is veins and frolic in his brain and maybe he would stop thinking, if only for a few hours. All day the faces of his estranged children danced in front of his eyes, it was during these days he needed scag more than any other. A year had passed since he’d seen them, almost as long since he’d spoken to them. A treasure of knowledge existed within that was they would lead more meaningful and profitable lives away from him. After all, he wasn’t ignorant to his situation; he understood what he was now . . . what he had become. \
Tomorrow was a pernicious centennial for him, one that conjured up a storm of anxiety in him, although it used to be the pleasurable (almost unbearably) anticipation of the surprise event; the gift and the expensive restaurant, the night on the town, the whole shebang and would he ever unload his wallet on that special date. That date was no longer special to him, it had become a torturous day where recollecting was all that he could do; what disturbed him most was the intangibility of these images, for he could not ruffle his son’s hair, or read a story to his daughter or lay naked with his wife….no those days were long dead, and the grieving process was exponential. It had been over three years since that fateful day, drunk and high on cocaine, roaring into the driveway, still with the taste of the stripper in his mouth. Kate was already furious as he was hours late and driving drunk. He staggered towards her, rambling apologetically and he kissed her. She could taste another woman on his breath. No longer could she put up with his abuse. Lloyd realized she was frigid to the touch She immediately ordered him out of the house, said she never wanted to see him again. He lunged at her as she attempted to slam the door, knocking her backwards. She thrashed and kicked but he was too strong for her. He punched her in the ribcage several times, breaking one of them, as she squealed in pain. He screamed obscenities and slung vicious words at her, tendrils of spittle hanging from his lips and caressing her face. He pulled his fist up and swung it at her face, not once but twice, knocking out a molar and fracturing her jaw. As blood streamed out of her mouth, she moaned and held her face. Lloyd stood up, a glimmer of satisfaction on his face, proud of what he had done. That look however, fell from his face as he saw his precious daughter Nikki standing at the top of the stairs, clutching onto her Pooh Bear in horror at what she had witnessed. Lloyd froze, as if his daughter was holding him with her moist eyes. Seeing Kate’s swollen, bloody face he staggered backwards to the car and sped off.
Yes, tonight would be a great night for the bottle, mixed with a little heroin he thinks he’ll be okay, everything will be okay; he will be able to laugh (maybe) and have a good time with Andy and Darren and just try to forget. That life no longer exists for him and it never will again.
Still that image of Nikki clutching her bear was a crown of thorns and it hurt so much. He needed to drink, right now. He ducked into the nearest liquor store, purchased a bottle of whiskey and drank from it heartily in the nearest alleyway. The sweetness of it excited his tongue and he wiped his chin greedily before taking another swig. He could already feel it aid his nerves, but to be safe he drank some more and placed the bottle inside his jacket pocket.
As he walked, he smoked. He passed strangers on the street, attaining a variety of looks; most were simply indifference but in some he felt distain and distrust, welling up anger inside of him toward the common man. What angered him was the excommunication from that normalcy. Sometimes he would gaze into the mirror at his ragged skin, his rapidly thinning hair and the perpetual weariness he wore and wondered where he had gone, no longer recognizing the tattered human staring back. Where did his strut go? And what about his inordinate charm? Why, he could charm the pants of almost any girl, now he notices them crossing the street as he approaches, reproachful, dripping wet with botheration. Even in the growing May warmth he hides his insecurity underneath an army green toque and behind thick-rimmed glasses. How did he get on this road, in this city, so far from that which matters most to him? In the next alley he snuck another swig. At the tender age of thirty he was certain the halcyon years were long past. Now he is simply waiting to meet his maker, after he suffers accordingly.
But did the lord truly want him to suffer? He pondered this severely. If he was damned by the almighty, why was he spared? Why place a hapless junkie in his path? If he’d been run over by that car, shrouded in a haze of toxins, ‘the world would be a better place’ he’d long since convinced himself. Instead, he was yanked back at the last second by a young man adorning a galaxy of track marks on his arms. This man was named Andy. There was an instant bond with Lloyd. Divinity must have perpetrated this meeting, for it was not mere happenstance. No doubt, drunk and stoned he’d thanked Andy for saving his life countless times, yet he never felt it was repayment enough. As little as he valued his life he was spared from a messy fate nonetheless. He owed Andy an insurmountable debt and at times to Andy’s chagrin, Lloyd always guarded him. Lloyd perceived he was a good kid, only twenty-four (level headed for a junkie) good-hearted, loyal and somehow alluringly selfless. Andy would get stoned and rant about the universe and the possibilities that exist in it (metaphysics was his favourite topic); he was in favour of Darwinism and the evolutionary theory, which Lloyd would often dispute with him as a proud Catholic. Their tirades would often devolve into a more rudimentary vernacular, such as the cute girl at Patsy’s Pizzeria Andy had and incurable crush on, Lloyd found this boyish yet made Andy all the more endearing. ‘She is too pure for me.’ Andy admitted on cold and stormy night, while heating scag on a spoon, ‘I could never taint her beauty, no matter my lust for her, my debauchery knows no bounds, and my unclean hands would ruin her forever. That, my friend, is why I never make eye contact with her, for fear that alone would bequeath my grunge on her.’ At times Andy was a poet and at others a philosopher, and at times was nothing more than child hiding beaneath the safety of their bed sheets.
Lloyd arrived at their apartment building Sauer Suites, and unlocked the door. He found himself grinding his teeth, in stern anticipation of getting stoned he took the elevator up.
Andy lay slumped on his couch – stoned – practically drooling with a vacant gaze; a cigarette draped a snake of black ash in one hand. The couch is quixotic in correlation with the rest of the two bedroom apartment; the paint was tinted yellow from tobacco smoke and a perpetual smell of mustiness permeated the apartment; it was a sordid dwelling, idyllic for a self-actualizing junkie who maintained zero second thoughts to appearances. It was an unclean, dimly lit place. The living area was scarcely furnished; a television, a tattered chair, a leather couch and wobbly coffee table, firmly in the corner was his contemplation spot, an old, coffee ring stained desk, on it rested his journal and his heroin lockbox. The windows were foggy with grim, dirty dishes littered the counters and the trash container overflowed several days ago and no one had bothered to clean it up resulting in flies congregating around a rotting slice of pizza on the floor. Yes, it was the ideal domicile for a self-actualized junkie. It is ideal for the mere fact it is cheap. It is no more than a habitable drug den. Andy was content with it. Amusingly, Andy could afford to live somewhere more accommodating, yet he chose to thrust himself into poverty. He is from a suburb of this once thriving city – his father was employed as a manger in a manufacturing company and his mother was an English teacher at a high school. He lived comfortably in a modestly appraised home; a pool in the backyard, a two car garage, four bedroom, three bathrooms and a finished basement, with a white picket fence a large Beech tree in the front yard. In the centre of a picturesque neighborhood where luxury vehicles were no stranger to its driveways, he was in disarray. In Andy’s eyes it was artificial and hopelessly mundane. Its inhabitants served as mere slaves to the redundant superficialities of its society; caring more about the aesthetic value of their lawns than of anything with substance. How he loathed being surrounded by sycophantic socialites! They would exchange congenial greetings to your face and gossip about you when you turned around. This place vexed him irrefutably and he wanted out.
One fateful night, he received a phone call from the police, at the age of twenty. There had been an accident; a drunk driver T-boned his father’s Lincoln in an intersection and killed him on impact, and his mother was in critical condition at the hospital. The police sent an outfit over to pick him up. He was stoned at the time. When he’d arrived his mother had already slipped into a coma. All night he spent in the hospital, utterly inconsolable; shaking, scratching, craving…needing. As the sun rose he was informed they couldn’t ascertain the extent of his mother’s injuries, if she’d ever awaken from the coma or the long term repercussions of the incident. Before Andy even pondered the possibility of being an orphan it became an unrelenting reality – at noon his mother succumbed to her injuries. The week following was an incoherent blur of nameless condolences and gripping embraces from relatives he hardly knew. He shot up before the funeral and stumbled and sweated through his prepared eulogy, those in attendance chalked his composure to grief. After the funeral he was contacted by their family attorney to come in for a meeting. The will stated that their estate and all their assets, including half a million in life insurance, was to be left to him. Andy was stupefied at his news. Elated and dejected at once he meandered home, with thoughts of heroin and his dead parents dancing through his mind.
For sometime he attempted to co-exist with his fallaciously considerate neighbours, as they brought him food to eat and helped him out around the property, lending smiling counterfeit smiles and uttering proverbs of inane wisdom and consolation. For several months he toughed it out, wore a fake smile and attempted to form bonds with his neighbours. But the itch was too bad. They could never accept him, he knew this. Eventually, the plaguing of family memories wore on him like a millstone around his neck. Escape was his only chance at survival. Promptly he sold the house for a smooth three hundred thousand. The only way he could escape was to find a place that in no way reflected the idyllic home he once had. All his family’s belongings were either donated to charities or sold away, save for the couch he is now slumped over on.
Andy no longer had a family, nor had a loving home and in their stead he substituted something far superior; he had euphoria in its purest form. Its caress equaled that of his mother’s touch…no, in fact, it eclipsed it, pervading his entire being from skin to bones but more than lent a sensation of wholeness – it validated his existence.
The vitriolic itch on the back of his neck teethed and his fingers scratched it, knowing full well the itch would not subside; this ethereal itch gnawed at his skin. Andy stood up and sauntered to his nook and sat down at his desk. He removed the key from necklace around his neck and unlocked the black, mini-safe on top of it. Inside the box was assorted drug paraphernalia; a roll of tin foil, alcoholic wipes, a few spoons bent back in the middle caked with brown resin, a straw, several butane lighters, syringes, rubber tubing and what remained of his monthly supply of heroin, of which only a few days (a week at best). That itch must be eradicated and this was his arsenal; a full frontal attack was underway. His process was meticulous, sanitary – akin to a religious ritual. Carefully he sterilized the needle with the alcohol wipes. The heroin was placed inside the spoon. As always, he licked the middle finger on his right hand, pressed one the powder and rubbed it along his teeth and gums. Chomping on his lower lip he lit a flame under the spoon. During this process he did not blink and his skin quivered, perspiration shimmered on his brow; he licked his lips with anticipation as his nostrils inhaled the sweet vapour that rose from the spoon. When it reached a suitable consistency, he drew the drug into the syringe. Drool drained out the side of his mouth. He smacked his lips. He set down the syringe and installed the tubing around his bicep and drew it tight, slapping his arm and making a fist to prep the vein. As great as the euphoria was, it was the anticipation of euphoria that was the truest to him. Gasping, he pierced his skin and pushed the plunger down.
Darren was inconsolably furious. He drank vodka from his flask emitting a satisfactory gasp as he swallows it. By this point in the night he is walking with a slight stumble, perhaps just enough to lure the attention of a someone looking for an easy target. However, he wasn’t concerned with such trivialities. He was on a mission and to accomplish anything less would be failure. Darren was by no means a reliable person (some would say he’s rather the opposite) yet tonight his obstinacy would know no bounds. Someone wronged him. Iit was a dear, dear mistake they made…in fact, two people wronged him and when he discovers who that second person was they will also be very, very sorry. A smile appeared on his face, the smile of a fox about to rob the chicken coop. A titter escaped his breath. The person who wronged him was his dear, dear Amy, his shining star in the uncertain blackness of night. No longer would she be there at night, when he stumbled home after consuming a cornucopia of intoxicants, no longer would she reassure his bruised ego that he was handsome and alluring, no more would she run her frail fingers through his hair and kiss his forehead when he was down on his luck. In his eyes she was the only girl to ever see past his exterior and see something worthwhile inside him. And the truth was, many nights that would fill him with self-imposed rage. The world acted as an ubiquitous depressant, instilling him with stern self loathing. What could such a kind, caring and loyal girl…no, strike that! With another swallow of liquor he reminded himself, she wass no longer loyal. No she is now an unfaithful cur. For sometime he has suspected her to be unfaithful, to be placing her loyalties and consolations elsewhere. Was it physical betrayal? That was uncertain, yet he knew it was emotional betrayal; someone else had become her confidant, her anchor, her lighthouse or any other metaphor he was able to conjure. His suspicions were proven warranted when she broke up with him last night. It was so callous the way she did it, as if she contained no human qualities and had transmogrified into a being of bitter, cold steel. They were engaged I heated argument for an hour, then she slammed against his nose. He screamed, he punched and kicked the apartment door, saliva dripping in streams from his jowls as he hollered obscenities intended to wound through the inches of wood that separated him from the object of his affections. Through all this she never uttered a word from beyond the door, nor even opened with the chain installed. She was gone.
Thinking of it again…whose he kidding? It’s all he’s thought about the past twenty-four hours, the horrific experience replaying over and over again like a nightmare tape loop. His incessant muttering to himself rescinded his love for her, yet his heart yearned for her as a starving person yearned for bread. Without her warmth and kindness he was a derelict soul, sentenced to wonder the earth as an aimless specter.
He began to shake and he knew what he had to do. Darren made sure no one was in proximity (as if it really made little difference in this city) and placed a rock of crack cocaine into his pipe. He took his lighter to it and huffed and puffed, inhaling the sugary sweet taste into his mouth, holding it within his lungs, until he felt he may pass out then finally he exhaled. Instantly he felt amazing, as if he held the ability to surmount any obstacle in his path and seeing as there was only one obstacle in his path, he knew what he must do to regain his sanity.
Fifteen minutes later he found himself outside of their apartment building, where he was no longer welcome. Due to their heated repartee he’d not given over the keys yet, nor would she have had time to ask the superintendent to change the apartment locks. That meant he still had a window of opportunity. His phone said it was almost ten o’ clock; she’d still be at work for another hour.
Sitting on the curb and he drank, and as he drank he smoked cigarettes. A storm was in the air, he could feel it and he laughed to himself at the irony; Because a storm was indeed coming in. In a little while he would make his move but until then he would increase his intoxication level. The more intoxicated he was, the more he felt he could fixate on something, without everything going wavy and off balance, for his vision was true right now. Nothing was going to deter him, nothing. As he considered this he reached into his pocket and pulled a dime bag housing four green ecstasy tablets. He swallowed half of them with a mouthful of vodka. As they settled in his stomach two police cruisers tore up the street. For a moment they instilled panic in him, as if the thought police had learned of his intentions and had come to take him away, he was afraid it was over but as the sirens faded out of audible range he was beyond relieved.
He chased his smoke with some more vodka and stormed up the apartment stairs, unlocked the door and entered the building. Strangely enough, he was giddy with excitement. He could barely keep himself from drooling he was so ecstatic. No doubt he would have the drop on her and he would coax the answers he craved from her. Routinely he went to the elevator but opted instead to take the stairs, walk the hallway on the third floor and take the furthest staircase to the fourth, less chance of running into someone he knew. Enough people in the building were customers of his and bought dope off him periodically. He was a part time seller, full-time customer, selling only enough to support his habits; Amy often took care of the necessities. That’s why he is so devastated. Looking at his state now it’s hard to believe not two hours ago he in a Subway washroom, doing lines of blow on the toilet seat, after spending a night at home drinking, smoking crack and crying like a ten year old girl. That’s what he felt like, a whiny pathetic bitch who deserve nothing, an ugly piece of shit that mattered not one iota to anyone; he was one hundred and twenty percent expendable to the world. It was he carried like a talisman for most of his life, a truth he understood but didn’t recognize until now, and Amy was the shepherd to this epiphany. At the end of the day, who wondered if he was healthy or happy or safe? Did anyone? His father was glad he rid of him and they haven’t spoken for three years, which is fine for Darren which means no more drunken beatings, and his mother has disowned him because if she did not his father would surely beat her too…that is if she wasn’t busy ingesting the ridiculous amount of painkillers for her gout. Now if Amy truly doesn’t love him anymore, then no hope remained. He was desperate and desperation makes men do the work of insane men. Sometimes, as history will note, desperation can make heroes and victors out of men, as well as leaving us in remembrance of a fool.
When he arrived at their apartment, he tried the key and sure enough it still worked. The welcoming darkness reassured him. He’d never considered until now that Amy could be bedridden with guilt over her treatment of him and lying under the covers of the bed they’ve shared for nearly two years, crying and howling into her pillow in absolute darkness. When he envisioned this possibility he thought if that was the truth, would crawl in bed beside her, wrap around her and gently whisper in her ear that everything will be alright, that he forgives her, and she would turn to him and gaze into him through his eyes, and he’d wipe a tear from her cheek as she nods apologetically and he’d kiss her. Then he’d make her grovel for a bit. Yes, he wants to see her grovel before him. And that is exactly what he intended to make her do, after he got what he wanted from her.
To rest his paranoia he turned on the bedroom light. The room bed was unkempt. Clothes were strewn on the floor. A pipe and a pile of ash were on the night table. But she wasn’t here. He turned the light off and smiled in the darkness. A sip from his flask settled him. Darren locked the door to the apartment. He went into the hall closet and shut the door behind him. And there he seethed.
ACT ONE – SCENE ONE –
When Lloyd entered the apartment Andy was slumped over at his desk. He tsked at the image. Approaching him he saw his journal open beneath his face, a puddle of saliva darkening the paper. In his hand was a pen, constructed of sixteen karot gold. Lloyd was astounded to discover he'd spent nearly ten thousand dollars on this pen purely on a stoned whim. Lloyd had often pondered what he wrote in it. It was odd to him that Darren was not here. It's common on Fridays to see him already half in the bag by the time his shift ended.
He shook him awake.
Andy turned at him with glazed eyes, as if he didn't recognize his roommate. Then he shook the cobwebs out and smiled at his compadre.
"Good to see you, Lloyd."
Lloyd smiled back at him. He was always happy to see Andy, even in this pathetic state. Andy came from a family of privilage and oppourtunity, something neither him or Darren weren fortunate to have, yet he willingly pawned it all for this squallid apartment in a shitty neighbourhood; it was befuddling to Lloyd. Unbecoming as his exterior is, Andy was somehow more human than anyone he'd ever known.
"Likewise," Lloyd said and offered him his hand.
Andy accepted it graciously and made it to his feet. Andy $plopped on the leather sofa and Lloyd sat in his chair. It was the one physical remainder from the house he shared with his family, the fabric was now faded and pulling in places, the recliner handle broke and now a monkey wrench is installed, and it carried the yeasty odour of many spilled beers. The rest of his things housed in a storage lot; he’d not visted his memorabilia for many years.
They both lit a cigarette.
"So how was work?" Andy asked.
"Same old shit as always. But what choice to I have? I need to make money somehow. Sure it’demeaning and unfitting of my experience. You know how it is in Ashton. I read in the paper last week we lose ten jobs a day, averaging just over three thousand jobs a year."
Lloyd regailed Andy with his sob story. He was once a legal assitant and made a moderate salary of eighty thousand a year. He lived in a fine, suburban house, drove an Infiniti, a lavish television he adored, a great lawn that was the envy of all his neighbours. After the divorce he found a job at a law firm in Ashton. During his tenure he was in a terrible state; depression clogged his lungs, infliltrated his thoughts and assassinated any possible relationships, plutonic or otherwise. The squalor of his life defeated him every day, he drank the nights away, either in the slummy bar around the corner or in the poverty of his own home. Two months in, he arrived at work drunk (on a Monday) still carrying his drunk from Friday like a torch. Needless to say, he was a sloth and aggregator, disposing his misery on his co-workers and his bosses. When he called his boss, the man who hired him, a fascist pig-fucker for asking for photocopies, it was all over. This particular boss carried a tremendous amount of clout in the legal jurisdiction of employment and ratified he would never find another job in his field in the region. His boss did not welch on his promise. When the unemployment ran out, and dozens of interviews with every law firm in within a hundred miles, he gave up.
"True that." Andy replied solemnly. "I'm sorry things turned out the way they did for you. That boss of yours was a douche, what was his name again?"
"Humphries. Yeah, he's a douche but still. It was my fault, ya know. I though I was in golden when I got that job at the Motors but sure enough, they closed the plant down and left me out of a job. My experience is limited outside of legal and the manufacturing industry in this city is over. So now I stock shelves at a goddamn grocery store. "
Lloyd began perspirating suddenly and he became fidgety. Something was on his mind and the inane small talk was driving him batty. Finally, he blurted out: "So Andy, can I get any of that scag off you?"
"Sure man, help yourself.” He threw his hand over his shoulder towards his box, then threw it towards the kitchen. “Can you get me a beer first, though."
Lloyd was put off by the notion of having to get a beer first. He'd been salivating at the thought of smoking some dope since hour one of work. Even during a six hour shift it was difficult for him to remain sober throughout that time, often by the end of a shift he would be introverted and agitated if someone approached him. He knew intoxication at work screwed him over once so he's attempting to reform. Still, he got a beer for himself while he was at it and opened them both, handing one to Andy and sipping at his own.
From the open lock box he removed the tinfoil and ripped it into a square. He placed heroin ont he tinfoil and took a lighter to it and inhaled the smoke through the tube. It penetrated his lungs with feroicity and he coughed, it was always good to cough. He lit it and inhaled more. He fell on the chair and his head swooned, he closes his eyes and he was gone for the ride.
Andy sipped his beer and laughed. "That's good shit, isn't it? Francis never lets me down, nothing but the best from him. "
Lloyd heard him but was unable to respond. The faces of his children melted away from his vision and he was at peace. In this moment there was
no alimony, no child support, no crummy jobs, no shattered dreams. . .It was freedom.
While Lloyd took his freedom, Andy pondered where Darren was. He was supposed to be here hours ago, it was their routine Friday night gathering. The fridge was stocked with beer and there was enough scag to go around. He'd tried calling his cell a few times and it was off. Darren never turned his phone off in case he got word of a good deal on something or if he could pander a deal to the lowest common denominator. It was eleven now. . . probably some drama going on with Amy. If that's the case he might not see him for days. Andy laughed to himself. He decided to try Darren again. His phone was still off. He thought to try Amy but decided against it. A minute later he wasn't even considering Darren anymore. He merely drank his beer and smoked his cigarette. Always coming down from the high is this afterglow, in which his mind slows to a crawl. In this state contemplation is impossible and his mind is free to drift.
When Lloyd came around he returned to his chair, stroking the arm rests in ecstasy, still reeling from the drug. "Do you know what tomorrow is?"
"No." Andy answered.
"It would've been mine and Kate's ninth anniversary."
Andy sighed remorsefully, but said nothing. Lloyd didn’t notice the reluctance.
"It's been over three years since we separated and it's weird, I miss her yet I don't. Does that make sense to you?"
"You know I've never been in a serious relationship before." Andy admitted. "But go on."
"When I was with her, I was too busy chasing something."
"Like what?"
"I only wish I knew." he said and lit a cigarette.
"All life's quandaries are solved only with time."
Lloyd looked at him, perplexed. Andy had a way of speaking that still, over a year after first meeting him, struck him with wonderment.
"You're right." Lloyd said. "At least if time doesn't answer our questions it gives us new ones to consider."
Andy smiled. "I know I'm right. I always am. But I digress, another beer?"
Lloyd motioned for him to carry on and he did, returning moments later with two more beers.
"So, did you hear about the news out of Texas?" Lloyd asked.
"Me? Hear news? Latest news I heard was that they got Saddam.” He laughed at his own joke. “Current events are trivilous, Lloyd. That is, until they become history then one must take notice."
"What if the news is, 'Incoming nuclear warheads from China?"
"Then the flash will scare the shit out of me." Andy said with a warm laugh that caught on in the room. "But what's this news, you've piqued my curiousity now."
"There was a guy, not sure how long ago it happened, but someone tried to kidnap his daughter. Well he ended up catching the guy and he beat him to death. He was just aquitted of all charges. An overwhelming show of support of parents outcrying 'I'd do the same'. And he doesn't get charged. And if that happened here, in this city, he'd be serving a life sentence. Amazing, Texas is such a backward place yet I commend them for this."
"So you're saying that you'd do the same thing, if someone tried to, say…take Nikki for instance."
Lloyd eyes looked at Andy with a sullen intensity. He crushed his empty can of beer in his hand and opened the next one, and took several long, drawn out sips while still staring at Andy.
"You're goddamn right I would."
"And you don't think taking a man's life with your own hands isn't a little extreme?" Andy said, chipper at the prospect of a healthy debate.
"Not in this situation, not when your child and their safety is involved. If you had kids of your own you would understand. You would rip your own heart out of your chest if theirs stopped beating. I'm talking about boundless devotion here."
"But does that justify the killing of someone?"
"In the eyes of this father it does. I'd serve a life sentence before I let my baby girl get violated by some sicko, by my watch and warrant I stand by that statement."
The conversation titillated Andy, for he'd always looked in awe of the power of the parent and child bond, it's will indominatable and unbreakable. There is so much power involved in raising a child, the influence you carry is daunting. As a father you're imprinting how you perceive the world onto your kids; your reactions, your feelings, your words and affections mould a child into adulthood. Andy couldn't imagine the pressure of being a parent. He shuddered at the thought of having a kid; the responsibilities alone would make him tear his hair out. Life with no responsibilities was the only way he knew how to live. He's fine sitting in his corner, with his introspections and judgements. It was far easier to live life through a dirty window.
"It's good to know you're so considerate of your children's welfare." Andy said and raised his beer to him.
"I only do what is best for them."
Upon saying the words, Lloyd realized that it was true. What lasting impression did he make on his daughter when he saw him lay hands on her mother? Hearing the things he'd said. That ravenous, drunken fury in his demeanor. Did he scar her? That wasn't the first time he'd hit Kate, no there were many times where she deserved it, and times when she probably didn't deserve it. Lloyd didn't care about that though, to this day he feels no remorse over the things he'd done to Kate. Afterall, she trapped him into marriage with a pregnancy. But he couldn't take losing control and doing anything to his children. Many drunken nights he'd imagined himself slapping his daughter in the face, and he'd have to drink until the image would vanish. Since that night he hasn't even been able to look his daughter in the eye and he hasn't seen his children in nine months. What he is now, is no impression to make on a child. He's best left begotten in their eyes.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to change the subject.” Lloyd vulnerably admitted.
“Of course, anything you want.” Andy nodded.
“What do you write in that journal, anyways?’ Lloyd asked, throwing his head towards the desk.
“To tell you the truth” Andy took a sip of his beer, drew a big long breath and held his arms out at his sides, surrendering. “I have no idea.”
“None? At all?” It was Lloyd’s turn to be interested.
“I’ve never actually read any of it back. Been writing in it every day for, I don’t even know how long, maybe five months. Sometimes I only write a sentence, others I write pages.” Andy drank some beer and laughed. “It’s probably incoherant drivel.”
“You’re a queer fellow aren’t you?”
“Excuse moi?” Andy raised an eyebrow.
“Peculiar, I mean.” Lloyd replied with a sly smile.
“Ain’t it the truth.”
Lloyd stood up and stretched, his shoulders were tight from stock shelves.
“You ever plan on reading it?”
“One day, maybe. Why?” He looked at Lloyd suspiciously. “Have you ever taken a peak at it? I wouldn’t be made if you said you did.”
“If you were the girl next door and I was twelve, then yes I would have. But no, I respect your privacy. Afterall, you’re gratious enough to allow me to stay here for free.”
Andy held his palms out ot him.
“What are friends for? It’s not as if I have any problems paying the bills. Got no problem getting you high so long as you can buy me some pizza from Patsy’s once in awhile.”
“Ahh, made by your dream girl I reckon.”
Andy blushed.
“Don’t be bashful, Andy. I get it, she’s cute. A little young for me but I can see why you’re taken with her. Somehow she does for flour stained aprons what Marilyn Monroe did to street vents.”
They both laughed.
Andy scratched the back of his neck.
“You want to get high?” Andy asked.
“Sure, why not? Then I say we go out and I grab us a large, sausage and pepperoni pizza with extra cheese.”
ACT ONE – SCENE 2 –
The air was chilly and damp, Amy thanked herself for bringing her jacket. It was another hard night of work at the restaurant. She tended the bar, which usually wasn’t too bad, but when hockey was on the orders for drinks and wings never ceased, with the playoffs on it was even worse, the patrons were loud and obnoxious, spilling their drinks and one guy even toppled a basket of nachos and cheese in celebrationg of a goal. In other words, it was a torrid night, made moreso by the happenings of the night before. The fight between the her and Darren had been long since building and last night she erupted like a volcano. She wondered if anything she said registered in his drug addled brain. The shift felt longer than usual and after smelling wings and appetizers all night she’d worked up a voracious appetite herself, to curb this she went into Patsy’s Pizza.
A fair share of her was glad to be rid of the weight that was Darren; he was going nowhere in life and dragging her along with her. A few days before she had a good long gaze in the mirror, analyzing every line on her face, every curve and blemish and the dark under her eyes. At one time a vivacious girl would stare at her, full of promise and jubiliation; now she was merely treading water and the waves had gotten tall. At night she was anxious of the shadow she cast. She’d learned, at the behest of Darren, the kind of light that shadow cast. Everything was always her fault, even when it was his. For years he’d undermined her at every turn, insulting and degrading her, stripping away her youth and vitality until only a pallid, cracked shell remained. What she saw in the mirror now was unjust in her eyes. There had to be better out in the world. Surely, someone venearble and civil had to exist for herr. For the a year she’d been consumed by a seething rage for her lover, though she no longer thought of him that way. As long as she’d wanted out was as long as she couldn’t get away. All he had was her, there was nothing for him to go back to. The thought of his suicide if she were to leave kept her at bay for quite awhile, for the potential guilt would crush her frail form. So she trooped it out, but she could no longer take it. She approached Darren about going into rehab and getting off the drugs and he’d planted his hand around her throat and slammed her against a wall, declaring that would never happen, he assured her that he was in complete control. Then he said what she’d always feared; that if she was planning on leaving him that he would kill himself; actually hearing those words instilled a fear of dread on her yet, it liberated her. The fear no longer seemed irrational and she realized she didn’t care if he killed himself.
Amy ordered a slice of pepperoni pizza and a can of Coke, and sat down at a table. The white paper plate was see through already, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. She ripped off a mouthful of pizza, instantly elated from the taste and washed it down with a cold swig of coke. It had been a month since she’d been clean. Some nights the sweats made her want to tear her hair out but most of that had subsided. Darren was a constant trigger for her, the mere sound of his grating voice made her want a fix of anything. For a few weeks she only smoked weed and drank then decided to stop that altogether. Soon she wanted to enroll in school, economics or city planning was her planned major. She knew her parents would never take her back, not without becoming commanding drill sargeants. Her only hope was to talk to her sister, Becky, try to make an arrangement to live in Toronto with her. Dropping Darren should help her make her case.
She looked at her phone. Still nothing from Darren. It would be a lie for her to admit she wasn’t worried about him. As sour as things became she didn’t want him to harm himself. It had been almost twenty-four hours and not a call, not a text. Frankly, she expected him to come crawling back, stoned out of his mind, kissing her feet and bowing before her, petitioning for a second chance and if he were to do just that, she would surely hold him by the chin and pull his face towards her and she would utter those magical three words; ‘no fucking way.’ Truth be told, if he did grovel it wouldn’t befit their relationship. No longer was she going to allow Darren to stomp all over her.
“Well look who it is!” A familiar voice exclaimed. She turned towards the voice; it was Lloyd, with Andy. They both looked stoned.
“Hi, Andy.” She smiled, turning to Lloyd. “And you as well.”
Darren’s compadres were sure to spoil the mood for her. Tonight was her first night unbound. Andy probably knew about what she did, so then Lloyd did as well. She can only imagine what skewed version of the night they heard.
“Have you seen Darren?” Andy asked her.
She was caught off guard by the question.
“No, I haven’t.” She answered.
“Then where could he be Lloyd? I thought for sure he’d be with Amy.”
“I have no idea. I’m ordering the pizza.” He said and made his way to the counter.
Andy asked with his hands if he could take a seat, she answered by pushing the chair out with her foot. He sat.
“So what brings you here?” Andy asked.
“You mean besides the pizza? Amy forced a laugh, it sounded forced. “Looking to unwind for a bit before I go home. Was a long night at work, well technically it’s still last night to me.”
“Up all night eh?”
“Yeah there was no way I was sleeping after last night.”
Andy shot her a puzzled expression.
“Why, what happened?”
Amy was bemused.
“You mean you don’t know?” She said, suddenly panic stricken.
“Should I know? I don’t keep up with current events. Funny I was just explaining that to Lloyd before we came here.”
“I just thought he’d have told you. Last night I broke up with Darren.”
Andy pushed his hands into fists and turned towards Lloyd at the counter.
“Oh.” He said, but looking at Lloyd. “Get me a coke, man. And some garlic bread.”
“Sure thing.” He rang back.
An award silence passed. Amy couldn’t believe he was so non-chalant about it. Afterall, Darren had been his best friend for nearly a decade. It was hard to understand his reason for being so unfased.
“You don’t seem surprised to hear that.” Amy blurted out finally.
“About you and Darren? Am I supposed to be?” Andy held back a smile.
“Well…yeah! I would think anyone would be shocked when their best friend’s relationship comes to a sudden stop.”
Andy looked around as I to make sure Darren wasn’t eavsdropping in the shadows. He leaned forward and spoke in a whisper.
“Do you want to know why I’m not surprised?”
“Why?” She replied, genuinely intrigued.
“Because I see the way he treats you and if I don’t see it, I hear about it from him. I see that you’re a smart, beautiful girl with a lot of potential. Truthfully, you can do better than him; I know, you know and he knows it too. I’ve seen this coming for a long time. I’d have said something but it’s not my place. I don’t get involved in people’s relationships. The Surgeon General says you’ll live longer that way.”
Amy was perplexed by the situation she found herself in. She laughed so loud the Andy’s dream girl stopped taking Lloyd’s order to look at her.
Andy stared at her with a queer expression.
“I was so dreading the conversation when you came in.” she admitted. “I thought you had already known and you’d speak on his behalf, convincing me to take him back. And now I’m so relieved that you agree with my decision.”
“Woah, hold on there a second.” He said waving his hands in front of him. “I never said I agreed with you. It all depends on the manner in which you let him down, was it gentle or hard?. And it’s not my place to ask how it all went down. I just hope you weren’t too hard on him, he’s had a hard life.”
“Oh, believe me…I know all about his hard life. Hear about it all the time. I ran out of sympathy for him a long time ago, Andy. For as long as I’ve known him he’s gone around and pitied for himself, wallowing in his own debauchery and expecting me to console him when he turns up empty handed. I’ve tried to help him, I tried so hard to. I love him, I still do love him, a part of me will always love him. But I know he’ll never be the man I thought he could be. I can’t placate him until a miracle happens.”
Andy sighed and watched Lloyd approach them, unbeknownst of the serious nature of their current dialogue.
“Your dream girl says ‘hi’ Andy.” Lloyd smirked, poking his friend in the ribs with his elbow, offering him a wink. Andy, shot him an odd look. He offered the two of them puzzled glances at the silence that greeted him.
“What did I walk in on here?” Lloyd asked, shaking his head.
“I guess we may as well tell him.” Andy proposed to Amy.
“May as well.” She concurred, looking at Lloyd. “I broke up with Darren last night. I’m not getting into why. Not right now.” She finished her slice of pizza. “In fact, I’m to start the journey home.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Lloyd said, in misguided sympathy. Amy didn’t need sympathy, she needed reassurance, to know that somewhere down the road is success and someone who will treat her with love and respect.
“It’s okay. You two have a good night, I’ll see you around.” Amy said and got up.
As she walked out the door she could already hear Lloyd inquisitioning Andy about what they had talked about. That isn’t to say she wasn’t worried. Much like how Andy expected to find Darren with her, she expected him to be adorning consolation from his best friend. That simply begged the question. . . where was Darren? And perhaps more pertinent, what kind of condition was he in? He had a habit of being aggravated emotionally, turning to anger fueled by a desperate need for escape, and that escape was usually whatever he could get this hands on.
The streets of Ashton are hardly a place for young, vulnerable woman to be walking alone at night. Even the streetlights cast shadows. She walked past the ruins of a bookstore which gave her temporarily employment once; it’s sign now spraypainted to say ‘Gookstore’, the windows broken and boarded up. She peeked in through the boards and saw the flicker of a lighter, followed by the acrid scent of burning rubber, and she knew it had become a crack den. It made her want to break down and cry. The city is dead and it will claim everyone who can’t get out in time. She just had to get out.
Until last night she had been clean for two weeks. Not an epic accomplishment but she was proud of herself. The stress of the situation last night made her smoke some weed hidden in a secret stash, one she used to hide drugs from Darren, who would always simply help himself. The level-head that came with cleaning up allowed her to be assertive for the first time in their relationship. She had a plan and up until now it was going perfectly; one, get clean, two, break free from Darren and three, move to her sisters in Toronto.
Amy pulled out her phone, it was nearly eleven thirty and it was almost too late to call her sister. A major falling out happened when she moved in with Darren. Her sister was just leaving for an entry level job in marketing in Toronto, and took her parents side on the matter. Now Amy accurses herself for not heeding their advice, that Darren was a terrible person and influence. It was too easy to go home but it was this city, it did something to you, she had to make a fresh start. A liberation awoke within her and she wondered if this how female pioneers felt, traversing across uncharted lands, an ardous yet necessary journey ahead. She had to get everything in motion. She hit dial. The phone rang three times, her sister picked up before the fourth ring.
“Hello?”
“Becky! Hey, it’s Amy.” She said, sounding a little too phony.
“It’s late. Can this wait till tomorrow? I have to work early in the morning. Can you believe it? On a Saturday, in an office. Something about some rush job from KFC they need done for some new item they want to push. Of course I don’t get a say in it, I just sit and watch and learn, I guess. I’m the person who gives the phone to someone else.”
Amy sighed.
“Becky, you’re ranting again. I hope you don’t do this before you give the phone away.”
“Well, you know me, an old fashioned motor mouth. So, what are you looking for? You wouldn’t call me at this hour simply to have a chat.”
There was a silence before she spoke. Amy was worried about the justification in her previous actions upon hearing the news.
“I broke up with Darren.”
“Amen!” her sister ejaculated in jubilation through the phone. Amy was taken back by it, but wasn’t surprised by it in the least. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”
“No, it’s okay,” Amy insisted. “It really is. I’m in a good place…well actually no, I’m not. I’m in a very bad place. You have got to get me out of this city.”
“You want to move here? Is that what you’re saying?” A sigh of ambivalence carried through the call.
“I can’t go back with Mom and Dad. I’ll be on house arrest, treated like a child and I’m still in this fucking city. It’s a disgusting place. I can’t take it anymore!”
“I remember, I remember. You forget I’ve been gone not even two years.”
“I know, but its somehow gotten worse; seedier, dirtier. It’s like it gets inside you somehow, the melancholy of this place is infectious. It don’t see it having a rebirth, Becky, it’s gone. Please let me come stay with you.”
“I don’t know.”
“Please.” She pleaded, making puppy eyes her sister couldn’t see.
“I don’t want you freeloading off me, okay Amy? I know you’ve been good with working whenever you can. Just promise me you’ll be dilligent in finding employment. There are lots of places you could work in my area alone.”
Amy wanted to let out a shriek of joy.
“Is that a yes?”
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll come out there tomorrow night. Pack up a load tonight and we’ll bring it out. You can stay here for the week, just buy your own food and we’ll go move you out next weekend.”
“Oh my god! Becky, I love you so much! You have no idea what this means to me!” Amy was jumping up and down in place. An old man watched her with hungry eyes across the street, hiding in a plume of smoke.
“This is just temporary. Okay, we’ll see how it works out. If you start getting on my nerves, I’ll kick your ass. Fair warning!” Becky laughed on the otherside.
“I can’t even begin to thank you enough! I’m almost home. Call me or send me a text when you’re coming tomorrow. I’ll get the ball rolling on my end. I love you, Becky. I feel silly now. I was anxious to ask you.”
“Why?” she replied. There was a distinct moment of silence.
“Because of how we left things, before you went to Toronto. You did take Mom and Dad’s side.”
“I didn’t take their side. I’m not vindictive. I just wanted what was best for you, same as them. That’s in the past, Amy. You’re making strides now. I think you starting somewhere anew could be exactly what you need.”
Amy wiped a tear away from her eye as she turned the key in the apartment lobby. She sniffled.
“You’re right. It’s a new beginning. Have a good night, Becky.”
“You too. Talk to you tomorrow night. Goodnight”
Amy shut the phone and went up the elevator to the fourth floor. A wave of pleasure washed over her, better than any drug she’d ever taken. This is what hope and promise were like. It was wonderful. It was as if she had been born again, all sins repented, all mistakes erased, she just couldn’t help but smile as she entered the apartment.
In the closet Darren smiled too.
ACT ONE – SCENE THREE –
“I know you’re smitten with that girl, and she’s rather nice. To be honest, I think he’s a little smitten herself with you.” Lloyd said, after shoving the last mouthful of pizza crust in his jowls.
Andy put down his slice of pizza, put his hands on his knees and rearranged his slouched posture so he was now sitting forward. He let out an irritated sigh.
“Why are you asking me again?” Andy asked, his face contorted to display his anxiety.
“I just don’t understand why you won’t even talk to her. You always make me go over and order, while you sit at a table and wait for me.”
Andy snuck a peek at her; she was a petite, yet still curvaceous. Her eyes were a brilliant green and her smile seemed to invite you. Many nights lying alone in his bed, he considered the pleasure of her warm body pressed against his own. It had been many years since he’d shared a bed with a girl. In high school he was a bit of a playboy, his intellectual charm seemed to make naïve girls swoon at every twist of his tongue. As he’d told Lloyd many a night, he’s never had a serious relationship, nor had he consciously considered one.
“Why do you look at me as though I’m a fool?” Andy was defensive.
“I don’t think you’re a fool. Just now she looked over at you! I saw this myself, and it’s not the first time.”
Andy looked again and as he sensed her gaze fix on him he quickly turned away, flush in his cheeks.
“See?” Lloyd said his arms akimbo.
“See what?” Andy took a sip of his coke.
“The door is wide open for you to walk through it.”
“Just because you spent your younger years as a hound dog doesn’t me we’re all like that.” Andy laughed.
“I know you’ve had your fair share of flings.”
Andy laughed again, this time from the depths of his stomach.
“No, flings are one night stands or the usage of the opposite sex for…well sex. I’ve never once used a girl. Truth be told, I think many girls have used me throughout my days. Most of the girls I’ve slept with have ended it themselves.”
“You’re saying not once, you’ve ever used a woman for sex?”
“Scout’s honour.” Andy held up his hand in a salute. “Simply put, I have too much respect for women. It’s such an atypical quality in these times. We live in a world furthered by debauchery and sexual titillations. In layman’s terms; sex sells and it gets results.”
“And don’t you think that’s an endearing trait to have? At least in the eyes of the fairer sex, anyways. I know a lot of guys would there would insinuate that you’re playing for the wrong team.”
By this stage Andy was tired of defending himself. In the simplest terms, he simply wanted a life devoid of personal dramas. The death of his parents, whom he respected a lot, as hard workers and dedicated family people, gravely affected him. Even as an atheist he envisions the stern, disappointment in his mother’s eyes, her face twisted in disgust, watching from above as he injects heroin into his arm. Another life can’t get dig in that deep, the loss of such a thing would devastate him irreparably.
“I’m not saying it isn’t. In this stage of my life I have no inclinations to be involved with anyone.” His gaze drifted towards the object of his affections. “No matter how alluring she, or any girl for that matter, may be…I just don’t want to complicate my life.”
Lloyd laughed as he picked up another slice of pizza. In his eyes Andy was too pure for this world and this particular city. Yet, as kind and ethical as he was, it was silhouetted by his insufferable altruism.
“What do you mean complicate your life?” Lloyd said jovially. “You have the simplest life I’ve ever encountered! You don’t work; you have no romantic relationship and yet you’re still worth a half a million dollars! With that kind of money you should have to beat the girls off with a stick!”
“I don’t need the entanglement. I’ve got you and I’ve got Darren and I have my scag…what more do I need? I surely don’t need money, or fame or power.”
“No, you certainly don’t.” Lloyd paused to collect his next thought. “But what about love? Everyone needs love. Love makes the world go round, afterall.”
Andy’s interest in the conversation piqued at the question. He pondered to himself whether he truly needed the love of another human. Besides the primal and necessary love from his parents he’s never really found a yearning for it; inklings yes but never a desperate needing.
“I have love in my life.” Andy said, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s just unconventional love. Come on; let’s take the rest of this to go. I can’t eat anymore.”
He stood up, turning once more towards the subject of conversation before turning his back.
“What already?” Lloyd inquired as he looked at his half eaten slice. Then he noticed the way Andy was scratching and he placed the remainder of the slice into the box and closed it. “Okay, let’s go then.”
Lloyd stood up, gestured goodbye to the girl and she returned it with a wave and a smile. He understood the stress he placed on his good friend interrogating him about the Patsy’s Pizza girl. It was strange to him, not wanting to approach a cute, personable girl who sent all the signals. If Lloyd were Andy he’d have already bedded the girl by now. Then again, those days were long behind him. He suddenly considered his own sexual drought and the last time was nothing to brag about (he paid), which is why he’d never bragged about it.
The moon was full and bright/ On this night, the denizens of the city were out in full force. A middle-aged woman walked alone on the sidewalk across the street, a pair of arms reached out of the darkness of an alley and pulled her in. Neither Andy nor Lloyd saw this, yet they heard the scream of terror she uttered as she was attacked. They craned their heads towards the sound but saw nothing, so they continued walking.
An old man staggered towards them, crossing the street mindless of traffic.
“Do you have any change?” he said as he crossing their path.
The stench from him was appalling, his yellow stained teeth seemed to shine in the moonlight, his breath smelled of decay and his white, unkempt beard was stained. He was homeless and probably suffering from some form of dementia. These types spent all money given to them on a bottle or a pill or some powder and if one happened to ask you for a cigarette, and you gave them one, they would ask again, forgetting they just had. Lloyd was disgusted, yet Andy looked upon him with pity.
Andy reached into his pocket, withdrew his wallet and handed the homeless man a twenty dollar bill. The old man snatched it from his hand, gazing at him cautiously the whole time. And then he was gone, no thank you or a nod of gratitude nothing. Already his mind was working out how to get stoned, drunk or both. Lloyd shook his head with disapproval at the actions of his friend but said nothing. When he lived in Toronto, many times had bums pandered at him for change or cigarettes or some had the boldness to ask straight up for drugs. Never had he parted with a single penny of his own. All the sob stories in the world could not persuade him to give away his hard earned cash. The only emotion he felt as they pleaded with him was abhorrence. Lloyd wished a passing car would strike the old man as he ran across the street. Alas, his wish wasn’t granted.
There was another scream from somewhere else, ricocheting off the old brick buildings that constructed the downtown district. Lloyd looked around but still he didn’t see anything. It was simply his imagination he decided. In this city a scream often meant you walked the opposite direction. Three police cruisers flew towards them, sirens blaring and took a hard turn down Baker Street.
“Wow, I wonder what’s going down.” Lloyd said aloud.
“I have no idea. Probably taking down some drug dealer or they found the guy who committed that double homicide on Celina Street on Thursday.”
“It’s probably a domestic disturbance and no way would a cop come into downtown without full backup.” Lloyd giggled. “It’s probably a call about some old woman who fell and broke her hip and the neighbours called because she wouldn’t shut the fuck up.”
“They get the call, hearing its an old woman and decided not to take chances. Who knows? Maybe the old woman could be high on PCP and have a fully automatic rifle. They should have called the S.W.A.T. in for this one!”
They both laughed as they entered into their broken down building on Baker Street.
Upstairs Andy immediately headed for his lockbox for a fix. Lloyd set the pizza on the coffee table and went into the kitchen for a beer. Within minutes both were indulging in their vices, Lloyd drank his beer in haste and Andy smoked a hit of heroin.
For the next ten minutes they sat in silence. Lloyd had started on his second beer and was smoking. Andy lay slumped in his chair; eyes closed and adorned a swooning face.
Lloyd’s thoughts helplessly drifted toward Darren and the state he would be in. He concurred Amy’s fears were just and he was out on the bender of his life. He merely hoped that he’d be safe and out of the grasp of the law. Knowing how it felt to be cut loose by someone dear, he silently prayed for Darren’s welfare.
ACT ONE – SCENE FOUR –
Darren could hear Amy moving around the apartment; her shadow danced through the crack of the door. He reached out, touching the shadows, expecting a surge of happiness but was instead instilled with a deepening sense of madness. Through the door was the love of his life…and she wanted nothing to do with him. Such a notion could not sit well with him and his intoxicated thoughts. He seethed as if preparing for his own Normandy Invasion; the right move must be made at the right time. If he were to lunge from the closet too early, he feared she wouldn’t feel secure enough to be truly frightened and her terror would be the key to getting everything he needs from her. The answers the questions that have ignited a fire inside him, one that threatens to burn down his life.
He finished the vodka in his flask. His eye twitched. Puddles of sweat formed around his neck and armpits. He ground his teeth. His breaths were rapid but deep and he exhaled silently. He heard her approach the closet and watched the crack darken as she moved past it. Next he heard the chain latch shut on the door. He smiled, knowing she would feel safe now. No way could he possibly get in, not with the chain on. He had to suppress a laugh by dipping the flask to his lips and was dismayed to discover its emptiness. In that moment he felt the flask was mocking him so he tossed it aside. He had to focus and wait for the perfect moment. As the minutes burned away he began to wonder what she was so energetic for. Amy moved around the apartment as if on a mission; the sounds of drawers opening and closing, the zip of zippers and the rustling of bags. He wondered what she was up to.
The two tablets of ecstasy had just kicked in, a tingling rushed across his skin, his heart pounding against his ribcage and sweat on his brow. His foot was tapping against the floor and he had to use his hands to steady it. The breaths that escaped him were rapid and shallow, his tongue protruded from his mouth. He closed his eyes and spun in the darkness of the closet. Amy was singing to herself, though he could not make out the words, perhaps she was merely humming. Still, the sound of her voice was caustic to his ears and he found his plans crushing around him. The closet enveloped him and squeezed the air from his lungs. As much as he wanted to wait he merely couldn’t, the agitation and anxiety were far too great to subside.
When he burst out from the closet and ran at Amy she let out a scream. Before she should react he was upon her. His weight pinned her to the ground, her head his bed on the way down. She trashed immediately, scratching him on the cheek and drawing blood. She screamed at her and he pitted his forearm against her throat and she began to gasp for air.
“If you ever want to inhale another breath you will tell me what I want to know.” Darren said his voice frigid.
Amy’s eyes screamed since her mouth could not. Instantly Darren knew that he’d already won and was in the position of power. So far, so good, he commended himself. For another moment she resisted and tried to break free from his weight but it was impossible. The panic melted from her face and she softly nodded that she understood.
“Good. I’m going to let you breathe but if you use that breath to scream I will crush your windpipe. Do you understand me?”
Amy knew he was beyond high. His pupils took over his entire eyes, one eye lid twitched with every beat of his heart and he was drooling on her. Her best chance of making it out of this altercation unharmed was to cooperate.
With hesitation he alleviated the pressure on her throat and replaced it with pressure across her breast. She could speak but he’d no intention of allowing her to move free of him.
“What do you want to know?” Amy asked with a trembling lip.
Darren simply laughed at the question and pressed his weight down harder.
“What do I want to know? What a humourous question! Let’s start with what you’re willing to tell me.”
Amy looked into his eyes, utterly confused at this line of questioning. She thought he was paranoid, delusional and dangerous.
“Tell you about what?” She choked out.
“For starters, tell why you dumped me without warning!” Darren screamed in her face.
“Can I sit up?” she said, grimacing in pain.
Darren pulled her up a few inches off the floor the slammed her down again. Amy screamed in pain and Darren covered her mouth to make it a moan.
“You will sit up whenever I decide you can sit up. Don’t play games with me, Amy! I deserve better than games! I deserve your undivided attention! Don’t fuck with me tonight!” he stopped. He need to compose himself, no get emotional if he could help it. “Why did you leave me?”
Amy was terrified of telling him the truth, yet was even more terrified of being caught in a lie. So she decided on truth: “Look at yourself! You’re pathetic! You’re a junkie mother fucker! You treat me like shit and you always have. You condescend to me as if I was a mere dog! I’ve had enough of it.”
Darren slapped her in the mouth and she recoiled in pain. Instead of screaming, she let loose bellowing sobs of pain and frustration. She thought all this was over, that she was finally free and she cursed herself for being so naïve.
“How dare you talk to me like that? After leaving me out in the gutter with my head in my hands! Alone, cold and miserable! How could you do it? Two years we spent together…” He was beginning to break emotional composure again. “Two years! And for what… for you to cast me aside like a piece of trash?”
“I’m glad you know how it feels now.” A mistake she knew, but the instant gratification before he slapped her again was worth the pain.
“Don’t talk down to me, bitch. I worshipped the ground you walked on for two whole years; I did everything I possibly could for you! I treated you like a princess!”
Amy laughed right in his face. Darren wanted to hit her again but instead, let up the pressure on her.
“Boy is your memory spotty, Darren. You scoundrel! It was I who worshipped you, who sacrificed who I was for you! Who I am now… I don’t even know who she is but I hate her! I hate her so much I just want to smother her and it was you that bore her into the world!”
“How dare you blame me for your own mistakes! I didn’t put the pipe in your mouth!”
Amy flinched, prepared for the sting of his skin against hers. When it didn’t come she cautiously parted open her eye lids. Tears rolled down Darren’s beat red face as he vigorously gritted his yellowy teeth. She waited, with his weight pinning her down, for him to make a move or say something. Already she’d said regrettable things during this scenario. The primal passion brought out the facetious tendencies in her. Now, as the adrenaline fades the throbbing of her jaw lectured her on the benefits of being cordial to your attacker.
A full minute past, where the only sound uttered between them was exasperated panting. Each waited for the other to make the first mistake. When the tension became too much to bare, Darren broke the silence:
“Who is he? Just tell me who he is?”
Amy was aghast by the insulting inquisition, almost as much as she gazed at him confused.
“Who are you talking about?” She replied, every syllable dripping with honesty.
“The person who has turned you against me, it’s obvious that it has happened. You don’t just end a long term relationship on a whim, Amy! Who does that? There is always a reason and more often than not, it’s because someone is fucking around on the other person…that or are though is at least entertained.” Darren studied the perplexity and benevolence on her face. “What you think you’re innocent in this? Well you’re not! You’re not innocent at all!”
“There is no one else!” she pleaded.
Darren looked at the bed, littered with clothes and a half full suitcase. He then smiled and laughed when he looked at her.
“Do you honestly think I’m that large of a fool? Do you? What’s with the suitcase and the clothes? And why, oh why, were you humming so happily when you came home. Did you just come from seeing him? What did he promise you? That if you left with him you’d live happily ever after? That he’d take care of you?”
“You’ve lost your mind!”
Darren laughed, mouth agape, eyes darting around the room. He inhaled a large, deep breath, which seemed to bring him down to a more controllable place.
“Have I? Have I really? Oh poor Darren has lost his mind!” He tittered. “Well I suppose that doesn’t bode well for you then, does it?”
Terror glazed over Amy’s eyes. She began to squirm and shift his weight but it wasn’t enough. Darren mocked her with his dilated pupils.
“I may be insane,” He began, chomping his lower lip with such force it oozed blood. “But that still doesn’t explain the bag. That you were packing. Your parents would never take you back, not after the big mistake that was me. Isn’t that what you believe? Hmm? That I influenced you to ruin your own life, take drugs yourself, move away from your precious Mommy and Daddy?”
“You were a mistake!” She defended herself.
“That’s right, keep drinking that misogynistic Kool-Aid your mother has been serving you for years! You can’t even think for yourself! I bet you never even loved me! Oh now I know that is entirely true. Don’t deny it! You’re already denying it with your eyes! How could you love me, I’m a piece of shit right? Your mother warned you, and so did your friends, oh how everyone looked out for dear, precious, naïve, delicate Amy. How nice to have so much support! You’re the only support I ever had and it was all a ruse, wasn’t it? All you wanted was to rebel! To make them love you all the more but when they disowned you, oh how you cried! I remember now! And I consoled you! I held you and caressed you and that night we made love! Well I made love,you simply made do.”
“How can you say that?” Amy screamed with moist eyes. “Do you really think I’m such a vile person to stoop to such levels? That I would use another person for a petty ploy against my parents? After all this time that is how you see me?”
Darren stared at her, vexed. His nose kept curling in anger, his teeth clenched and bared. It was as if he’d becoming nothing more than an animal. There was something in his eyes, something that reached into her body and grasped her heart with icicle fingers.
“It’s clear to me now. The way you left me with no warning whatsoever! I was an experiment, a society slumming experiment. I was the perfect candidate, wasn’t I? A broken home, drug user and abuser! How much sympathy have you garnered from your friends? ‘Oh poor me’ I can see you saying, ‘I love him so much but all he does is treat me like trash’ and then you’d get a pity hug but it’s so much more than that to you isn’t it? It’s a commendation for suffering through my suffering!”
Amy opened her mouth to speak but he placed his palm over it. She wanted to bite him, make him scream and bleed but she was a model of restraint.
“No…no, my pretty, you’re not speaking. This is my time, you spoke last night. And ever since, all those destructive, wounding words have floated around my head. It’s only been a day and I can’t take it! I just cannot live with being abandoned by you. What do I have to go back to? More beatings? Watching my fifteen year old sister give birth in a few months? Watching my mom robotically function with her painkillers and Xanax? And that is why you will tell me where you were going. I want to know what fantastical life you were leaving me for. I need to know. Think of it as closure.”
He uncovered her mouth and as she began to spoke he muffled her again.
“I only care about the truth. Don’t bullshit me.”
Amy coughed viciously and gasped for air when he finally removed his hand from her mouth and nose. The room seemed to spin around her, the adrenaline was back again. Darren’s condition and emotions would eventually give her an opportunity to escape. She just had to bind her time and give him what he wanted.
“I was going to my sister’s, in Toronto.”
“Becky?” he shook his head. “But she hated me most of all! I know you told her things you didn’t tell your mom.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you’re sisters, and I can only imagine the skewed image she has of me. She never even met me, except when we ran into her at the mall! You didn’t think I noticed the contemptuous way she regarded me? She looked me like one looks at their shoe after stepping in dog crap!” He paused and shook his extended index finger in her face. “Let me guess, she’s happy as a pig in shit that you’ve dumped me?”
Amy smiled at the corners of her mouth. She peeled it away before Darren noticed.
“I can only imagine the sob stories you’ve given her, most of them probably helpless exaggerated.” Darren concluded.
“Don’t insult yourself with my mouth.” She pleaded. “All I want is s a fresh start at life, in a new city with new people and new doors to open. Do you really begrudge me that? I thought you love me?”
Darren began to cry and in that moment he wanted to be lost in her all over again, to hold her and cherish her and make love to her to keep her from leaving.
“I do love you! You’re my entire world! And now my world is on fire and it is burning!”
“Then let me go.”
Darren wasn’t sure how to react. His instincts battled over slapping her and embracing her. In the end he came to solution and that maybe he should let her go. He apologized to her with his eyes and she returned the favour.
“If you love me, let me go.” She repeated with a swollen smile.
Darren shifted his weight and sat back. Amy pulled her left arm that was under him up to her face and tried to shake it awake. He grabbed her and pulled her into his arms. Sobbing he squeezed tight with love than he had with hate. She gasped out at the shock of the action. They shared a passionate kiss. He stood up and helped her up.
“You’re right.” He said, holding her numb left arm. “You are so entirely right.”
Amy laughed, relieved. She inhaled her first true breath in almost ten minutes, her lungs ached from deprivation. As much as she hated Darren now and wanted away from him, she drew herself in and planted a kiss on his lips. Then, crying, she grinned and squeezed his hand.
“I’m glad you understand. This is really what is best for me. Thank you so much.”
Darren punched her in the face. She was so caught off guard she howled. Then he broke one of her ribs. Oxygen rushed from her throat. She fell to her knees, coddling her ribcage and crying. When she looked at Darren she seemed to be asking him ‘why? What his eyes answered cause her heart to sink. Then he was back on top of her, but she squirmed free. Frantically she made it to her feet, knocking over a night table and sending a lamp crashing to the floor, casting them both in darkness. She made a great din all the while. Before she could leave the bedroom he’d grasped her ankle and yanked. She fell face first into the floor. Everything sounded distant. Her eyes could no longer focus in the darkness. A great weight held her down. More impacts against her ribcage, followed by the metallic taste of her own blood. Hands tightened around her windpipe. Each haggard breath burned her throat. A pressure built up around her eyes. It was impossible to think, impossible to move. She could feel herself fading away into an all encompassing blackness. Still, she could make out the moonlight glistening in Darren’s massive pupils and faintly heard him say: “I’m letting you go.”
And then Amy was gone.
ACT ONE – SCENE FIVE –
Once again the city of Ashton claimed another life. Once again it appropriated the unclean hands of one of its residents. It is said that a city has a life-force and personality of its own, often this is to be attributed to the culture of the people of the city. But what if the people merely existed to the propriety of the city’s demands? Is it possible for a city to influence its inhabitants to make choices to meet its own ends? Is a decaying city the product of the choices made therein by the people or do they obey an intangible force? In this city, people are driven by inhumane acts for dirty hedonisms, allowing their fellow man to be eaten alive if it meant they could loot their wallet afterwards. Such an intense selfishness this is! Darren was no stranger to such indecent acts. For once he watched a man beaten outside of a bar, for reasons he did not know, As he watched it like a movie he drank fro his flask. For nearly five minutes this old man was pummeled by three other men. When they were done they left off belting laughter, still taunting him. Soon after Darren walked up the man, who begged for him to get him help. He was so bloodied and swollen he could barely shift his own weight. Down on his luck himself, Darren reached into the man’s coat, retrieving his wallet, removing the twenty-seven dollars inside and contemptuously dropping the wallet on his aching chest. Then he left. Until now he’d never recalled this incident. But staring at Amy’s lifeless body, still feeling her drying saliva on his hands, he was inexplicably reminded of it. He’d no way of knowing if the man had lived or survived and until today he was not the least concerned. Now he understood the jolt taking a human life can give. He coped with the distress by smoking several pipe loads of crack and popping another two tablets of ecstasy. What other way could he take the pain away?
Amy’s eyes were still open. The courage to close them didn’t rest within him. Never, never until last tonight had he laid a hand on Amy. For the past hour he’d recounted how easy it was! He was beguiled by how powerful he felt with each crack of his knuckles. The ability to manipulate Amy into feeling anything he’d wanted did rest within him. However, as the conversation wore on he realized she was invulnerable to physical abuse. Darren’s arsenal the past two years consisted of verbal and emotional abuse, the only goal in his actions to make her smaller than him and until last night it had worked. Every opportunity to compact her ego he seized like a lion sinking it’s fangs into a sick antelope and he got high off it. Yes, staring at Amy’s corpse had brought Darren too many stunning epiphanies. Was taking a life the only reliable way to reflect on your own life? He considered this over an after fix cigarette. In recollection he considered the power dynamic of their relationship. By all means Amy was the responsible one, who believed in family despite being disowned by hers and maintained legitimate employment to sustain their apartment. And what did Darren do? He controlled her money, not allowing her the right to use their own. He introduced her to drugs, for she’d done nothing more than smoke weed with friends before meeting him. Darren gets it, she wanted danger and excitement and an escape from the proper suburban prison she was raised in, but still, he was infuriated that she would use him for adventure. He was a human being! He didn’t deserve this!
In his mind he was in a courtroom already, on trial for his life and in his thoughts he defended himself mightily. He was merely a victim of the circumstances of his life! No, he isn’t a bad man or a spiteful man or an indecent man but merely a boy without structure and discipline. Any sins he had committed were crimes of necessity, not of cruel or inhumane intentions. This was a crime of passion! So what if he was waiting in the shadows to pounce on her like a jackal? All he wanted was answers but things got out of control. He envisioned a sea of shaking heads, the twelve men and women on the jury regarding him with the harshest scorn and the hammering of the judge’s gavel. He shook the image away. No, he wasn’t among the damned yet. Instead, he chose to maintain a sliver of hope in his dark and twisted mind.
The truth of it all was he hadn’t considered the way he treated her until her death rattle penetrated his ears. Why did he treat Amy so terribly? Why did he minimize her self worth until she was a destitute soul like his own? He was crying now, repenting his past indignations with tear drop apologies. He didn’t believe in God but if there was a God, he considered if he could be forgiven. The human race certainly won’t let bygones be bygones. Deep down Darren was terrified with Amy attaining the realization she was truly better than Darren and that she would leave him. He needed her love so much that he would do anything to keep it. The only way he knew how was burden her with misgivings and meticulous criticisms. For so long it had worked, the power he held over her was tantalizing. It was easy to take half her paycheck to buy drugs, because he convinced her she needed the drugs as well. Did Darren feel supreme guilt at this moment? No, he did not.
Darren let out a bellowing laugh at Amy’s maligned body.
“You were so easy to manipulate.” He taunted. “When we met you were so strong willed and independent. You knew exactly what you wanted and how to get it. And what you wanted was to infuriate your folks. Isn’t that right, love? Oh but you didn’t count on me, did you? No, you did not. Somewhere along the line you really did fall in love with me. When that was I haven’t the faintest idea.”
Darren got off the bed and lay down with Amy, draping an arm across her.
“Do you remember our first anniversary? You were saving up money from your job so we could go out and celebrate properly. You massaged my face in bed the week before and consoled me for not having money for it. It was so sweet. You did it just like this.”
He took his hand and brushed the back of it across her frozen face, swooning at the memory.
“The next night I told you I could get a great deal on an ounce of weed and that I could dime it out, sell it and double our money and I promised you it would work, that I would need the money you’d saved and half your paycheck. Well, I digress; you know what happened, you were there.”
He cackled at his own words.
“I smoked most of it, with friends and the money I made selling I spent on coke and I brought it home. I remember lying to you, saying that I made more money than I thought by pinching and I bought us some blow to celebrate our love with. When you took those lines you were so happy. And when I told you the day of our anniversary, when you asked for the money, that it was all gone, you got so angry. You were livid! I’d never seen you so angry, honey, not once. You cried and you wailed and thrashed your arms about. I reminded you how great the coke was and the passionate sex that followed it.”
With his eyes closed his hand fondled at her breast, and he kissed her bruised neck.
“Oh you pleaded my forgiveness! I was the one who fucked up and you asked me to forgive you for being so upset. As much as you wanted a romantic, grown up night out, it wasn’t happening. Why were you so apologetic to me? Was it because you were angry at yourself for trusting me with money or trusting me with your love? From that moment on, you were mine. That night you gave me absolute control over your life. And tonight you gave me absolute control to free you from it.”
He stood up and walked over towards her purse which lay on the bed and opened it. From inside he removed her wallet, took the cash and stashed it in his jean pocket.
“You know, I’ve realized something tonight, staring at your body. For so many years I walked through life with this…this weight on my shoulders. And do you know what that weight was, love? It was the feeling of being pathetic. My parents made me feel pathetic, my friends made me feel pathetic and sure as shit the ladies made me feel pathetic. Tonight I realized you’re the pathetic one. And that’s not just because you’re dead.”
Darren lifted his head up the heavens, laughing at his own comment, it echoed through the empty apartment.
“If you weren’t pathetic you wouldn’t have let yourself become a doormat or whatever metaphor you conjured up in your feeble little brain. All you did was humiliate yourself over and over again. You made it so easy! At first it was a clever game, like chess, where it would take me dozens of moves to get to checkmate and yet the past months it was like hunting a deer by sticking a shotgun in it’s sleeping mouth. Where is the sport in that! I began to lose respect for you, chasing after me like a weak puppy…yet my love deepened. I couldn’t make sense of it. But tonight, as I wrapped my sweaty hands around your frail little neck and I squeezed until I watched the light vanish from your eyes that I realized that it wasn’t love I had for you, no it was an overwhelming feeling of power. I had power over your thoughts, your emotions, your livelihood, your self-image…you weren’t even a human when I was through with you. You were just skin and bones with no meat, no substance. Hell, you were the walking dead. I had no intention of killing you tonight. All I wanted was to terrify you to get the answers I wanted out of you. But you were going to leave me, and not just romantically. I just couldn’t have that; I couldn’t have my power taken away! It was all I have left.
“Wait, don’t say it. Don’t you dare say it! I know it! I know it all too well! You’ve still left me and that power is still gone. Yes, I mourn that loss and will mourn that loss for quite sometime. Do you think you’ve won?” he kicked her lifeless body much like he’d once poked a dead raccoon with a stick as a child. “Sorry to disappoint your ego but I still won. You wanted to make a fresh start, get out of this…what did you once call it…an ‘infectious city’? You wanted to make a new life for yourself? You thought you could regain power and control over your life? No, I wouldn’t have it! Not under my watch, you don’t get that back. I could see it in your eyes as they darkened, how disappointed you must be at how things turned out! To think not more than an hour ago you were humming cheerfully, packing for a new life of promise and adventure! How beautiful it all sounds! Blue skies and bright eyes! Isn’t that right?”
Darren knelt down beside her, took a drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke into her face. With a devilish smile he touched his mouth to her ear.
“You truly believed you had gotten away, didn’t you? You can’t escape it.”
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Originally Posted by Brice
