Simon had been adding it up all night and it wasn’t going to work. By the end of the week he’d be a hundred short on rent and two hundred in the following week, and that wasn’t including buying any food. Josie would stop work for the baby in a fortnight, so they’d only have his measly wage to rely on. If he’d gotten a job at a supermarket at least he’d be able to score some free food, maybe knock-off some nappies. All he got now was a bottle of his choice which he could auction to the teenagers who lived a few floors below him. He tried not to clench his jaw, the store manager had already warned him about appearing friendly to the customers.
He was busy marking down the Teacher's Whisky when this tall strange fellow walked up to him. He was long limbed and pale from the top down, starting with cream-coloured hair in a lively spike, as if he’d cut it himself while jumping up and down. He wore black leather trousers and a mesh-weave muscle shirt of excitable red, stained from sweat and hanging loosely on his narrow frame.
Leaning onto the shelves, he cast a shadow over where Simon was kneeling.
‘You got any juice in this place…Simon?’ You had to hate those badges, they were meant to make the customer feel they were getting personal and caring service, but mostly it gave assholes the chance to make fun of you.
‘Back fridge, bottom shelf. The only stuff we have is plain orange.’
‘Thank you Simon.’ he clicked for one of his friends to go collect it. ‘Simon, you seem tense. Is there anything wrong?’
‘Do I know you?’
‘Lex.’ the white-haired one shot his arm forward, pulling Simon to stand as they shook hands. Lex’s eyes were a pale unfathomable blue, unblinking as an eagle’s. Simon didn’t so much sink into them as become awfully aware of the vast distance that existed between their two souls, how separate he was from the man shaking his hand. He had to look away and their hands dropped apart.
‘You know a few of us are hanging out tonight, if you just want to kick back with some cool folk…you should join us.’ Lex offered casually.
‘I’d love to, but my wife expects me home.’ Lex and his friends broke into cackles and even threw in some mock whipping sounds for good measure.
‘How old are you?’
‘Eighteen.’
‘Eighteen and married already. Shit mate, you could be my grandson — and I bet you’ve got a kid already.’ Lex winked at Simon’s nod.
‘On the way.’
‘Well, the invite is there. If we see you later, we see you later. Cool?’
‘Cool.’
Lex gave him a hundred dollar bill to cover the juice, some bottles of wine and spirits. There was nearly fifty in change but Lex waved it away laughing. ‘Keep it. What the fuck do I need it for?’
Later that night Simon walked home feeling something. There were no buses after closing time but he was used to footing it home, it saved money. A flimsy breeze was coming through, picking up the heat from the road, chilling the sweat he was building up.
He felt miserable and leaned into himself, shielding from the dancing detritus that blew against him. There wasn't enough money. A day ago he could picture all the things Josie and the baby would need. Today there were blank spaces. The nursery with no crib, no mobile hanging from the ceiling. Just shadow markings on the walls where these things should be. The more he conjured the more hollow he felt. Nothing he could do would make a difference.
Breaking the seal on the bottle he had intended to sell, Simon took a long unpracticed gulp and then froze at the sound of smashing glass and hoodlum laughter. He relaxed as he recognised that Lex guy sauntering towards him, swinging a black cane like a showman, and followed by an enlarged pack of rowdy teenagers. God it would be nice, Simon thought. Just nice to hang out with some kids his own age for a bit, not including Josie.
Disused tracks led towards an old warehouse district, the pebble bedding crunching under their feet. The young gang laughed and joshed, knocking each other from their attempts at walking on the thin metal tracks. As bottles were finished they were thrown and shattered upon the rusted carriages and containers that lay abandoned all around.
A fat brown reefer was passed between the group until it ended up with Simon who, feeling fuzzy enough already, tentatively tried passing it forward to the young man leading them on.
‘Lex?’
At his gentle tap Lex spun fiercely towards him, eyes catching the light. He smiled widely at Simon’s proffering. ‘Don’t mind if I do,’ and he sucked deeply on the joint, burning down an inch in one hit. ‘Are you having a good time Simon?’
‘It’s a blast.’ He couldn’t believe this Lex guy. He had everything, money, confidence and a persuasive way with guys and girls. He was such an intense guy, with so much direction — and that was just what Simon needed right now. ‘Hey, where are we going?’
‘Oh anywhere really — how about here?’ Lex gracefully swept his arm towards an old railcar that had fallen on its side. They all helped each other to the top, and Lex alone had strength enough to shove the old door across so they could drop inside.
It was a rusty dark and most of the crew held up lighters and shoved the old seats into more comfortable positions. The guy they called Goon, with the faux-rasta hair, immediately began strumming on his guitar. He played odd songs that nobody knew, mumbling creole words, that seemed to have meaning for him and nobody else.
‘Anyone bring candles?’ Lex joked, then asked for the bottle of whisky and Simon’s bootlace. With deft authority he quickly punctured the cap with his teeth and manufactured an impromptu lamp. The faint bluey light wandered over the faces, most Simon didn’t know at all, others were sort of familiar, he saw them now form into natural couples with the lonely girls that had drifted to them as the night went on. It made him think of his wife. Josie would be long home by now, given up on waiting for him he hoped.
‘Chin up, my boy.’ Lex grinned uncorking a wine bottle with his teeth and after a brief pash with it himself handed it on to Simon. ‘Drink up friends — drink and be merry, for tomorrow we may live.’ He was right Simon thought, I’m sick of worrying and thinking.
He took a deep careless swig, nearly choking on its thick sweetness. It was syrupy, metallic and alive, he wasn’t that used to wine so didn’t know what to think. Only moments after hitting his belly his heart reacted, beating as if trying to pound its way through his ribs. His breathing faltered, his vision changed and he passed out. The last thing he remembered was Goon’s gobbly lyrics, drifting inside the cart, the alien syllables taking shape and swimming around him.
Quicklinks The Quiet Darkness by David Henley - First Entry | Latest Entry
Pretty interesting!
Posted by: Lynn | 11/14/2009 at 08:07 AM