The Boys Who Danced With the Moon

by Mark Paul Oleksiw

  He looked up and smiled and in an officious tone replied, “Please hurry up. I have an out-of-office meeting at 11 a.m.” For a second, I thought he said “out-of-body experience” and giggled. Now that would be a meeting not to miss.

  I quickly grabbed my briefcase and, fleet of foot, headed straight for the washroom outside of the reception area. He was visibly confused about my taking the briefcase with me. Luckily, he was too self-absorbed with wiping the smudges off his business card holder to appreciate the strangeness of my actions.

  Entering into the closest stall I could find, I shed the skin I had worn for the better part of the last fifteen years: dress socks, oxford shoes, jacket, tie, shirt, and pants. I opened my briefcase and pulled out my casual wardrobe: a midnight blue plaid shirt with black squares, blue jeans, white socks, sneakers, and, of course, a T-shirt underneath. Not just any T-shirt. I gathered up all my business attire and stuffed them into the briefcase before shoving everything into the garbage of the washroom.

  When I walked out of the washroom, I proceeded directly to the main reception where Denise stood watch. Denise and I started at the firm within a year of one another—I’d known her for years. The stunned look on her face said it all. She suddenly realized what would be happening next when I handed her my formal resignation letter. No way was I going to give this to Mr. McCastle directly, as I refused to allow him to get close to me. He did have massive hands, which were easy to imagine morphing into battering ram fists.

  “Kiran. I knew this day would come. I knew it,” she said, laughing and shaking her head as she took the envelope from me. Perhaps there were betting odds in the administrative staff lunch area, unknown to me. I wondered sometimes.

  “One favor, Denise. Just one.”

  “Sure.”

  “If the old geezer asks you to call security, just give me a head start until I’m in the elevator.”

  She chuckled. “For sure. Sometimes the phone line goes down at really inopportune times.” As I was about to walk away, she added, “Good luck. We’ll miss you.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  I lowered my head and walked around the fake privacy of the cubicle world and curious faces. Many probably thought I was heading to the beach and forgot something in my office. We were in California, after all. I marched past McCastle’s secretary with a gracious nod and a wink. His face almost instantaneously turned beet red the moment I re-entered his chamber.

  “Wells! What the hell did you change for? This is so unprofessional. Our meeting ends when I say it’s over.” He was so incredulous, he managed the energy to stand up so he could attempt to talk down to me.

  “I don’t have much time. There’s a letter for you at Denise’s desk. Good luck on your future endeavors, sir.”

  “What? Have you been drinking? Did you go out to celebrate already and not invite me?” He laughed menacingly at his joke, trying to convince himself that this was an orchestrated prank on himself. He was a narcissist to the end.

  “I don’t work for you anymore,” I said, smirking. “You seem to be having trouble understanding.” Making sure not to cross the threshold again, I stood in the entrance of his office. There was no way I was going to have the door close behind me and run the risk of not being able to escape readily. My flight ticket was non-refundable, just in case I was tempted to change my plans.

  “What the fuck? Are you joking?” He let out a strange nervous laugh, the anger about to spew forth. He leaned forward and stared at my T-shirt.

  “Oh. You like my shirt? It’s one of my favorite bands; you must have heard of them.” I knew there was no way.

  “Sonic Youth? For God’s sake, Wells. You’re going to be forty in a couple of years, and you’re wearing this teenage crap!”

  I laughed. “Actually, sir, they’re older than me, and I’ve been listening to them since I was a teen. They make great music even at your age. Imagine that!” I laughed in an entirely exaggerated tone. I took one small step backward, starting to turn away. The gas gushed into that office with my words, and all that was left was the ignition. In a low distinctive tone, I started singing and accentuated the lyrics as I turned to face him one last time. I doubt he knew the lyrics to “Teenage Riot”. I did not care. I was singing them to myself.

  He didn’t have the courage to move toward me and confront me as he was already on the phone to reception dropping f-bombs on poor Denise. I closed the door behind myself just after saluting him while continuing my song. Good soldier indeed. I couldn’t help myself and reopened the door briefly. “You know, I can order you a T-shirt, too, if you’d like. They do come in your size, big guy!” Before his face could change colors again, I was gone.

  An explosion of verbal assaults ricocheting across the office commenced. I wondered how quickly he would call Rob. Rob’s reaction would be almost as priceless.

  I thought of my friends who’d had their careers ended after going into McCastle’s office —people who had kids and families who depended on them—and a hint of retribution stretched across my face in the form of a smirk as the daggers and bombs of his words flew at me from his corporate box of an office. I made my way down the hallways, passing smaller offices. Focused and alert in my quest to escape, I met each face I passed with a nod.

  Making my way through the mazes of gray cabinets, filled with files, tucked away in a tone of self-importance, I didn’t look back until I reached reception and noticed Denise bravely holding back the smile that was tickling the corners of her mouth. The phone next to her buzzed loudly with lights flashing, all calls forwarded to a voicemail that couldn’t care less. She looked up at me. “You know what would have been a nice touch?”

  “What?”

  “Signing the visitor’s log Patrick Bateman.” She winked at me while nodding at the paper in front.

  “Now, Denise. That would have been a little too over the top! Besides, he’s probably never even read the book or seen the movie.” I waved at her, picking up my pace.

  With each floor I descended, the sweet smell of my career incinerating behind me was intoxicating. There was no turning back now.

  I made my way to my car and was back at my apartment soon enough. There was one more person who potentially could stop me: Avery. I prayed she wouldn’t be home and if so, wouldn’t see me. I also knew it wouldn’t be long before Rob found out. I pictured him on his Blackberry, then dropping his Blackberry as the text came in.

  I went into my apartment and clutched the bags I had packed the day before and seized my plane ticket. The note I had left for Avery on the kitchen table was now sitting next to a plant on the countertop. Avery was too thorough and reliable. She’d already been in here to water my plants. She knew. She definitely knew.

  I raced my way out of the apartment with everything I wanted to take with me. My car waited patiently, a willing accomplice in my escape. After I turned the corner, I could see a silhouette sitting on the hood. My heart sank. I knew who it was without seeing her clearly.

  “Good thing I went to water your plants or else I would never have been able to see you.”

  “It’s too hard to explain, Avery.”

  “Rob called me already. You know that, right?”

  “I kind of figured. How mad was he?”

  “Pissed.”

  “One day I’ll explain it to him.”

  “No. I will.”

  She stared at me with an intensity I’ve never seen before. “You’re going back home, aren’t you? That stupid article you received?”

  “Another letter came.”

  “Christ. I knew something was going on. I can go with you.” She reached out her hand and tried to grab my wrist. I politely pulled it back and out of her grasp.

  “No. You need to be with Rob. My past is something I have to confront. I can’t drag you into it.”

  “You almost died once, Kiran!
”

  “You have to understand why I need to go back. I promise to be careful. If I don’t do anything now, I never will. Eventually, it would just eat away at me until . . . well. Get the picture?” Her sigh drifted through the air and pulsated against my eardrum. She had her past, too, and her demons. She also knew of the importance of confronting them and the false safety of not.

  “Of course. It doesn’t mean I won’t worry. Maybe Rob and I can make a vacation out of it and come with you,” she said pleadingly.

  “No. Besides . . .” I reached out my other hand and gently padded her belly. A look of shock crossed her face. Her secret was exposed.

  “You know?” Her lips pursed, and she slowly smiled, excited to share the moment, however bittersweet the timing was.

  “Yes. Rob needs you, and you need him now. You should be enjoying the best time of your life, Avery. That’s the one thing I know for sure.” I moved my hand over the air above her head from shoulder to shoulder like a wand. “Keep burning bright. Understand?”

  “I think so.” She reached down and grabbed my hand and moved it from left to right over my head. “For good luck.”

  I smiled, then turned and walked around her to put my luggage in the trunk. Her voice was now barely audible, in a hushed tone. “You forgot your jacket. It gets cold back home from what you once told me.” She pulled out my old flight jacket that she had hidden behind her.

  “I was wondering why it wasn’t in the apartment. You took it?”

  “Yes. I thought maybe you would change your mind if you couldn’t find it.”

  I stood speechless as she grinned back at me, her eyes a bright watery green. “How did you know? I mean, what made you think of it?” I asked, confused.

  “Sometimes I know more than I let on, although it doesn’t mean I understand it. Who gets letters? I saw the strange look on your face. I’ve never seen you scared before. If only I knew what they meant, I could have burnt them before you saw or read them.” She continued admiring the jacket as if suddenly seeing it for the first time. “What kind of jacket is it? It doesn’t look like a military-type.”

  “An astronaut’s flight jacket.”

  “It’s nice,” she said, her eyes staring at the logo.

  “Had it since high school. I’m not sure if it’s real. Probably only a replica. It doesn’t quite fit now, but it has sentimental value.”

  “Is this from one of the moon landings?” She pointed at the mission logo.

  “Not sure really.”

  “I know there was one where the astronauts died on the launch pad. Fire devoured them. Horrible way to go. I hope it’s not that one. Good karma is surely needed.”

  “Don’t think it is that one. There was also one where they tried to go to the moon and never made it. They returned safely,” I said smiling. I grabbed the jacket from her and was about to climb into the car. She lost herself in the intensity of the moment and, carried by a flood of emotion, rushed toward me. She leaned forward and grabbed my head tightly. She kissed me firmly on the forehead right above my eyes, dead center.

  “This wards off evil spirits.” She backed off, composing herself with her lips quivering.

  “Wow. Now I’m scared. I thought you stopped believing in all that stuff.”

  She backed farther away, her eyes fixed on mine. “Maybe I don’t, but I know you do,” she said with a forced smile and turned away.

  “When do you plan to come back?” she said.

  I avoided the question, like she probably knew I would, and started the car while rolling down the window. “I’ll call you once I settle in and leave you a number where you can reach me. If my dad calls, don’t tell him a thing. Please.” I could see her waving in the distance as she gently rubbed her belly while I backed up.

  My car would be abandoned temporarily in the airport lot. In my note, I asked Avery to pick it up one day and drop it off in some alleyway with the spare keys inside. I figured whoever found my clothes could use a car, too. Beckett and Bells would be hiring.

  Driving to the airport, I realized how sharp and long the claws of the past were to pull me back in after so many years. For so long, I tricked myself into believing I had escaped. I could no longer hide; it had found me disguised in the form of my true love. It’s amazing, the power of ink on paper.

  CHAPTER 8

  Pauley River, June 2006

  I arrived back in Pauley River, choosing to remain in exile at the outset. Without a map or a compass before me, my next steps needed to be chosen carefully. Landmines lay everywhere—even in the friendliest of places. With my sneakers off and feet firmly on the floor, I prepared to immerse myself in water again. This time, though, it was in the sanctity of a simple bath.

  The ceramic coolness of the floor did not deter my curiosity. The bath stood enticingly, waiting for me. Something about its forgotten stillness captured me at that moment. I knelt down slowly, almost reverently, and gazed at the water. I really didn’t know what I was trying to do. I couldn’t see my reflection in it. Not seeing it made me wonder if I existed.

  I realized only later that it was the peaceful tranquility seducing me. For now, without thought or observation, I just stared at the water. I closed my eyes slowly when the words trickled through from the backlot area of my mind.

  “I am here to awaken you.”

  My eyes opened, and I looked deeper and more nervously at the water. It remained still and tranquil. I didn’t take my eyes off of the tub, wondering what magical spirit it had just conjured. I didn’t need to look around the room and search for someone else there. Even though it wasn’t my voice, it was a voice I had heard before, long ago muffled. I could put no face to the voice, just as I couldn’t see my face within the reflected waters.

  The glow from the light overhead spread like an aura from the center to the sides of the bath. I had forgotten what peace felt like or had felt like until now. I wondered what kind of sensation a hand or a finger in the water would bring. Would it be hot and would I need to pull away quickly, or would it be cold and numbing? I did not find out. The voice had tapered off to a distant memory as if hiding, hoping for a childlike game to commence. I wrapped my palms around each knee and closed my eyes again, resting. I never worried that I would fall asleep, nor did I worry about losing track of time. Time is what I owned now. No place to go, no one waiting for me. I had made a choice, right or wrong. Time was only moving slowly enough for my past to catch me eventually. Time seemed to be a patient conqueror.

  I finally extended my finger into the water and “pinged” the stillness, watching impassively at the ripples I created. I amused myself for a while this way. Ripples shot out in different directions. I named a ripple for myself and watched it expand its borders before crashing into another one I created. The theory of nothing was what I sought.

  The sudden ring shattered the serenity. Damn the phone. Disconnecting it was never an option. It was probably Avery. She was my only anchor and only safe harbor. My knees were numb, and one of my legs fell asleep. I enjoyed the sensation of my hand and then arm immersing itself, grasping for the plug. The ring continued at its metronomic pace. I staggered to the phone with a limp leg.

  My answer of a curt “Hello” was borderline groggy, partially mixed with nighttime exhaustion. No voice responded. The old Bulova clock on the end table reminded me how long I had lingered. The clock itself was meaningless, as was the ritual of seeking it out. I knew the phone would ring again at some point, whether it would be five minutes, one hour, or days from now. I looked at the phone, almost trying to will another ring with my thoughts just to get it over with. Staring at the bath had somehow refreshed and comforted me. But I knew the worry would come back, whether it be like a lightning bolt or slowly like a boa constrictor strangling the life out of me.

  The bed upon which I now sat was comfortable enough. The apartment was like many a hotel
I had stayed in and had the same temporary feel. On the tired old walls there was a hint of layers of wallpaper long since removed. Someone had washed the slightly yellowed walls with a cloth as there were uneven watermarks here and there. Thankfully, the floors were dark hardwood. It was my only sticking point with the landlady. No carpeting. I was not obsessed with germs or anything, but not knowing what lurked in the recesses of a carpet’s fabric was too much mystery. I made some lame excuses about allergies.

  The bath held a unique charm, as I never took baths. I had gotten so accustomed to the quick get wet, get dry, get out of the house rhythm of a shower that I almost forgot what water in a tub even felt like. Now the water was totally drained. I summoned some measure of courage and decided to finally leave my humble abode and go for a walk.

  I knew if I procrastinated long enough that the good intentions I had to leave the safety of isolation would be gone, but satisfactory progress was how I described my day so far. It was as though I was preparing for an eventual visit to a psychiatrist. Yes, the patient made good progress. He filled a tub of water and emptied it.

  From the edge of the bed, I could see my reflection in the dresser mirror. Good lord, it had been a while since I shaved. I stroked my beard and remembered a time in my youth when this was the look I wished I could achieve. I laughed as I approached the mirror. The look was probably more of a washed-up folk singer than anything else. The beard took the focus away from the dusky circles under my eyes and my pale skin. Before I stopped shaving I had thought I looked jaundiced, or maybe it was shading created by unforgiving lights. The beard elegantly covered up any imperfections now. I looked healthy enough to go out without anyone worrying about me.

  My success was in eating regularly, albeit only because of the kindness of my landlady. I appreciated all of the home-cooked meals I’d had in the last few years. There just was never enough time to sit down and prepare my own food. Fortunately, the landlady had brought me a welcome meal the first day I moved in. She demonstrated concern for my well-being almost from the time we met.