Shadows of a Dream

by Nicole Disney

  One, two, three, four, five, center of his chest? A little to the left but not far? Compressions. Compressions? Two deep breaths, hold his nose. Shouldn’t it feel like my breath is actually going somewhere? Like, into him?

  “Guys, what direction from the road did we walk?” Jayden screams, then into the phone. “Hold the fuck on, I’m trying!”

  Where are the mountains? We walked away from the mountains, that’s east, but not directly away, away and to the left. Which direction is left of east? Never Eat Soggy Wheat.

  “Northeast.”

  “Northeast,” Jayden says, and I know this is taking too long. I slow down and try to do this right instead of just in a panic. One, two, three, four, five. Yes, compressions is right. Five doesn’t seem like enough though. Maybe I’ll do more, but the lack of breathing seems paramount. This whole thing is way too imprecise. I have this hole in my stomach that knows this isn’t working. Hold his nose, two breaths. I exhale into him slowly, sealing the gaps carefully, and I feel his chest expand a little. I do it again. And again. I’m starting to feel dizzy. Again. Where are they? Again. Are they even coming? Again. Black speckles are making it hard to see. Again. Tears are making it hard to breathe. Again. Jayden grabs my shoulders. Again. I muscle through his gentle pull.

  “Rainn,” he says.

  Again.

  “Rainn.” His voice is barely audible through his tears.

  Again.

  “Rainn, he’s gone.”

  Again.

  “You can’t save him, Rainn.”

  Again.

  “It’s too late.”

  It takes the ambulance an hour to find us. They yank me away from Michael and try to work on him. A guy with soft eyes and gray hair puts a blanket around me. He tries to ask me what happened, but I can’t speak. The ambulance lights are overpowering in the moonless night. Blue. Red. Blue. Yellow.

  “Clear!”

  I figure I’ll hear them do that several more times, but they don’t. Just once.

  I lie down in the grass. It’s moist like it’s rained only it hasn’t. It soaks through my clothes. I don’t care. Jayden comes over and lies with me. I wish he wouldn’t. Shiloh comes over and lies with us. I let him wrap his arms around me.

  Too quick, they’re asking us to get up. The ambulance has already left with Michael, but cops are here now, asking for statements. I’m still underage by a few months, so they take me home, to my mother.

  Just seeing me standing in her doorway between two police officers is enough to send her into a tirade about how all I ever do is cause problems. The cops cut her off pretty fast to tell her about Michael, using words like “asphyxiation,” holding a hand in front of me like I don’t deserve to be yelled at right now. My mother couldn’t agree less.

  She’s about to boil over, but she knows she has to let the cops leave first. I slightly consider pushing her over the edge so they can see what a psycho she is. Maybe they’ll reconsider leaving me in her care. But I don’t. I think I want what’s coming to me.

  My mother, ever the class act, invites the cops in, but they refuse, saying they understand we probably need to be alone. Boy, is that an understatement. The second she closes the door she slaps me as hard as she can. She then has to hold her aching wrist, subtly behind her back like she doesn’t want me to know she’s hurt herself. My ear is ringing.

  Her eyes are watering, and she just looks at me with the most hateful stare I’ve ever seen. “You were supposed to protect him,” she says. I don’t say anything. I can’t say anything. “He was your little brother. You were supposed to help him grow, not drag him into the gutter.” I’m paralyzed. It’s true. “Are you listening to me?” I make eye contact to show that I am, but I still can’t speak. “You killed him,” she says.

  “No.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “No. I didn’t mean to.”

  “Obviously you didn’t care. You’ve never cared about anything but yourself.”

  “I loved him!”

  “Then why did you do this to him?” she screams. Her eyes are bloodshot. “He did every damn thing you did. If you and your idiot friends had never gotten to him he would be alive right now! You killed him! You killed my baby boy!”

  “No! I didn’t mean to!”

  “Did you have fun getting high, Rainn?” That’s the first time she’s called me that. “Was it worth it?”

  Something snaps in me. “Maybe if you weren’t such a bitch he wouldn’t have wanted to get high! He was trying to drown you out!”

  “You better watch yourself,” she warns me.

  “No, fuck you. All he wanted was to be himself and you acted like there was something wrong with that. You rejected who he really was. That’s why he ran away from you. You think you’re such a good fucking parent just because you threw money at his education? All you had to do was listen to him. I don’t want to play the violin anymore. That’s it! That’s all he asked of you, don’t make me play the violin anymore. How hard is that? Was that worth it, Mother?”

  She winds up to slap me again. I push her so that she misses. Fury lights up her eyes, and she’s so desperate to hurt me her arms start going wild. “You are a useless, evil piece of trash! You are not my daughter!”

  Her sweet Chanel perfume washes over me, and I realize I will never again associate it with her tucking me in at night. It will forever be this moment now. “Yeah, I know, Mom. I know you fucking hate me. You always have. You’ve always loved Michael and hated me.”

  “You are an ungrateful, spoiled, selfish little girl.” Her hand is on my face, pushing. I don’t know what she’s trying to do exactly, just hurt me. My fingers are weaved through her hair, and I’m pulling as hard as I can. It feels like straw from too much bleach.

  “I hate you!” I scream.

  Somehow we both know it’s time to let go. We give each other a hard shove and detach. “Get out of my house,” she says. “Now. And never come back.” She pushes me again, toward the door now. “Go!”

  I couch hop for a month, crashing with each of my friends for a night or two at a time. When I run out of friends I start at the beginning again. Everyone is a little extra lenient because they know about Michael, but sympathy doesn’t go as far as you think it will. I know I can’t keep this up. I know there’s an easy answer. I don’t feel ready yet, but I bend.

  I take my bag and walk to the apartment that used to house all of us, Jayden, Shiloh, me, and Michael. I don’t know how I’ll look in his room, but I have nowhere else to go. I haven’t spoken to the guys since it happened. I don’t know how they’re doing, but I’m surprised when I get to the door and hear music coming from inside.

  When I open the door, the music pours out. Jayden’s sound is unmistakable, his guitar cries. I walk down the hall. Shiloh is playing bass. I turn the corner to the living room. Some guy with a scruffy face wearing a wifebeater is playing drums. I heat up from the core. He’s not just playing drums. He’s playing Michael’s drums. Jayden and Shiloh spot me and stop immediately. They look petrified.

  “Rainn.” Jayden starts to take off his guitar so he can come hug me. I’m not interested.

  “Who the fuck is that?”

  “He’s, uh…” Jayden scratches his head.

  “I’m Alex,” the guy on drums says. “It’s really nice to meet you. The guys say you’re an amazing singer.”

  “Who the fuck is that?” I ask Jayden again.

  “He’s Alex.”

  “Jayden.” I stare into him, daring him to tell me.

  “He’s our new drummer.”

  “The fuck he is. Get out!” I scream at Alex.

  “Rainn, he’s good,” Shiloh says.

  “I don’t give a shit. Get him off my little brother’s drums right now.” I storm toward Alex, smacking a mic stand intended for me over on the way. Did they think I was just going to jump in and sing? Did they think this would be okay?

  Jayden tries to grab my arm. “We would have asked you, b
ut we didn’t know where you were. We have to keep playing. Michael would want us to keep playing.”

  I pull my arm out of Jayden’s grasp and smack him, then push Alex as hard as I can, square in the chest. He topples backward off the drum stool. His head hits the wall so hard he puts a hole in it. Shiloh rushes over like he thinks he might have to restrain Alex from attacking me, but Alex just holds up his hand that he’s okay.

  “Hey, I didn’t know these were his,” Alex says. “I’m sorry.”

  “Whose did you think they were, asshole? He was our drummer!”

  “I’m sorry,” he says, holding his hands up like I might attack again. “I won’t touch them again. Ever, okay? I’m sorry.”

  I spin on Jayden. “You think you can just replace him?” I turn to look at Shiloh too. I wish they were standing on the same side of the room so I could scream at them simultaneously. “You think you can just give some other guy his drumsticks and the beats and everything will be cool?”

  “You know that’s not what we think,” Shiloh says.

  “Well, that’s what this looks like. You know what? Replace me too. I’m sure it won’t be hard for you.”

  I leave the apartment. It’s snowing now. I walk until I can’t feel anymore. I walk until I’m numb. I walk until I can’t see their faces, until Jayden and Shiloh are gone, until Alex is gone, until my mother is gone, until the guy with gray hair is gone, until the flashing lights are gone, until Michael is gone.

  I turn down a quiet little passage behind some buildings. I lay down on the wet asphalt that’s just starting to collect snow. I hold my arms out to my sides. Look, Mom, I’m an angel. Look at the snow angel. A pair of shoes is strung over a telephone wire, silhouetted by the nearest glowing streetlight. The snow blurs the light to yellow. My tears blur the blob to streaks.

  A door beside me opens. Music streams out. A guy walks right past me with a bag of trash in one hand and a cigarette in his mouth. When he turns to go back inside he sees me.

  “Whoa, whoa. What are you doing? There’s no dying allowed here.” There’s a smile in his voice. Does he think this is funny? Next thing I know there’s a big friendly face entering my view. “You all right, there? You on something?”

  I shake my head.

  “Drunk?”

  “No.”

  “Looks like you ought to be. You want to come in?”

  “I’m seventeen.” He only hears “seventeen,” or maybe he just pretends that’s all he hears. I can’t be sure.

  “No, it’s worse than that, negative three. You’re out of your mind, and in short sleeves? Come on, let’s go in. I’ll get you a hot chocolate.” He grabs my arms and starts to pull me up. At first, I’m being difficult, but then I realize I actually can’t stand up. My legs hurt too bad from the cold.

  “Come on, sweetie,” he says. “It’ll be okay.”

  “No, it won’t.” I feel lightheaded. I’m almost completely limp in his strong supportive grasp.

  “Come on now, stay with me,” he says. “What’s your name?”

  “Rainn.”

  “Rainn? That’s pretty. I’m Benny.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  The blood on my hands from Ice has dried and is a dark brown color by the time I get home. I go straight to the bathroom to shower. I run the water as hot as it will go and just let the steam suffocate me. I take off my clothes and stare at myself in the mirror.

  “Are you okay?” Jaselle surprises me. She doesn’t usually get up when I come home anymore, just waits for me. I guess she’s worried about us still.

  “I’m fine.” My voice is croaky. Jaselle comes in and closes the door. She walks over and wraps her arms around my waist and kisses my shoulder.

  “Is this blood?” she asks. I nod. “Are you okay?” I nod again. She takes off her clothes and gently pulls me toward the shower. “It’s going to get cold soon,” she says. I let her pull me inside. She starts washing the caked blood off me. I watch the colored water disappear down the drain.

  “You’re not high,” I whisper. It takes me until now to realize I’m surprised by that.

  “No.” She kisses my collarbone. The water is still all the way on hot. I wonder if her skin is tingling from it the way mine is. “You know what I hate the most about doing crank?” she asks.

  “Uh, withdrawing when you don’t have it?”

  “No.”

  “Not having enough money for it?”

  “No.”

  “Waiting for drug dealers?”

  “No.”

  “Fighting with me about it?”

  “No.” We both start laughing a little.

  “Okay, okay. What?”

  “It makes me forget how fucking beautiful you are.” Part of me melts. The other part sarcastically remarks that it’s a wonder she’s still with me then, since she’s been high for the majority of our relationship. I’m trying to say that out loud, to remain hard to her, to protect myself for once, but she kisses me and I just can’t. The fireworks don’t go off in my chest like they used to, but I just can’t hate her.

  She touches my face, and I give in to the kiss. She’s so different when she’s not high. She’s gentle. I can feel the love, not just the lust. I want to want more. I try to want more. I hold her, running my hands down her back and kiss her deeper. She moves her hand down and touches me.

  I close my eyes and grab her hand. She parts the kiss. I can see the pain in her face. I don’t think I’ve ever stopped her before, no matter what was going on, no matter how mad I was. When she started touching me, I forgot. She thinks this means it’s over, that I’ve shut off completely and forever.

  I touch her face, make her look at me, and kiss her again. “Not yet,” I say. It hurts too much still. I see you with him still. She nods like she understands. I think she actually does. Even though I’m saying no, I feel like we have a better chance of moving past this, legitimately. I’m dealing with it. And she’s dealing with it. It’s not just being shoved aside out of fear of losing her. And she’s not high. She’s feeling it.

  “I love you,” I say. I figure telling her that will go a long way. Let’s face it, this beautiful, sweet Jaselle who remembers she loves me may not be here tomorrow. She could be sick again tomorrow. She could tell me she’s dying again tomorrow. She needs to know she’s not alone.

  “I love you,” she says.

  We get out of the shower and go to bed. I hold her as I’m drifting off. I know I’ll only get a little sleep. She squeezes my hand every few minutes, or pulls so that my arm is around her tighter. I haven’t felt her so aware and concerned about me since the beginning.

  * * *

  A thunderous crash makes me jump a foot off the bed. Through the window I can see it’s still dark, middle of the night type dark. I hear footsteps. Someone is in the house. Jaselle is awake but frozen stiff. I grab an iron fire poker Jaselle has by the bed. They don’t even have a fireplace, so I guess it’s here for this exact reason.

  I go to the bedroom door and start to shut it, intending to lock it, but Ice is a second too fast. He kicks the door before I can get it to latch. It slams into me and knocks me over. He walks right past me, followed by Metal Mouth and Short Shit. None of them even look at me. Ice and Metal Mouth grab Jaselle’s arms. She tries to swat them away, but she’s nowhere near strong enough. Short Shit goes to grab her feet. She kicks him in the face. Ice slaps her and Short Shit wrangles her legs in. They pick her up.

  I shake off the hit from the door and stand up. I don’t bother saying anything, just swing the fire iron at Short Shit as hard as I can, fully aware that if I connect with his head it will probably kill him.

  He has to drop Jaselle’s feet to dodge it. I swing again, intending for Metal Mouth this time, but Short Shit tackles me. He punches me and pins my arms beneath his knees. He’s a lot stronger than he looks. He hits me repeatedly. I taste blood in my mouth.

  “Knock her out, man,” Ice yells.

  “I’m trying.” H
e keeps punching me. I’m determined I’ll stay conscious, but every time I lift my head he hits me and I’m getting weak, so when he does, the back of my head smacks down against the floor. I can’t move my arms. I have absolutely no way to defend myself.

  A flash of colors knocks Short Shit off of me. I look over and Noah, clad in his bathrobe as always, is fighting with Short Shit. I turn over and spit a mouthful of blood out and grab the fire iron again. Ice finally pulls out his gun.

  “That’s enough!”

  Noah doesn’t notice and punches Short Shit again. “Hey!” Ice screams and points the gun at Jaselle. “I said that’s enough.” Noah looks over and sees the gun finally. He reluctantly gets off of Short Shit.

  “Put it down,” Ice yells at me. I drop the fire iron. “In the living room.”

  We all file out obediently. Ice stays glued to Jaselle, keeping the gun against her head. I cringe at him touching her. The long cut across his face from where I took a crowbar to it is cleaned up now, sewn shut with stitches. Is this revenge?

  “Sit down,” Ice says and pushes Jaselle into the chair. “You two don’t move,” he says to Noah and me. He looks back at Jaselle. “You got two minutes to give me the money.”

  “What the fuck is this about?” I ask, realizing it’s clearly not about me after all.

  “Shut the fuck up, bitch,” Short Shit yells. He bounds forward and slaps me.

  I push him back. “Do I look scared of you?” I scream. Now that I know this is about money I know Ice won’t shoot. Not yet. “Do I look scared of you?” I say again.

  He grabs my throat and comes closer to my face. “You better get scared, little girl, or I’ll make you mine again to remind you.”

  “Hey,” Ice yells. “Get back over here, stupid.” Short Shit releases my throat and does as he’s told. “You got it or what? Time’s up. Derek won’t wait anymore.”

  I can barely hear Jaselle answer. “I don’t have it.”

  “What does she owe?” I ask.

  “I said shut up. This ain’t about you,” Short Shit yells.