Poet Anderson ...Of Nightmares

by Tom DeLonge

  Jonas slipped it on his head, and turned to Alan, smiling as if he were the doorman. “May I take your coat, sir?” he asked, and then laughed at himself and took off the hat. “I would have had so much fun breaking your balls for this.” He put the hat back in the box and was about to sit down when a thought struck him, heavy and clear.

  Jonas had less than ten dollars left to his name. He had no way to get food once the hospital kicked him out, and certainly no place to stay or even shower. What if…

  He spun to face Alan. “What if I went to the hotel? I mean, they’re obviously out a doorman, right? I could work after school and at night. I’ll hold the job for you until you wake up.” Jonas felt a surge of excitement, along with anxiety. For the last year Alan wouldn’t let him get a job, saying it would be a distraction from school. Jonas thought that was ridiculous, even if he knew Alan had a point.

  The last job Jonas had gotten shortly after his parents’ deaths ended when he was caught drinking in the back room with the older servers. He’d skipped school that entire week to pick up shifts and earn money, only to get fired at the end of it. Alan told him that with a degree he’d be able to get a job that required him to have more than the ability to count to ten. He wanted Jonas to have that chance, hence the “no job” rule.

  But now Jonas could contribute, and he had a reason to do so. He’d earn the money they desperately needed, and he’d keep Alan’s position ready for his return. It would be perfect.

  Jonas started to walk out, but paused, knowing that Alan would have cleared his throat and motioned to his outfit.

  “Right,” Jonas said. He went back to the bag and found one of Alan’s polo shirts. The kind he’d wear on a job interview. Jonas changed quickly, then went into the bathroom to comb his hair to the side, grimacing at how fucking presentable he looked. He sighed, letting himself hope, just a little, for the first time. He’d get this job. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. Then he’d meet with that doctor, Doctor Moss, and get Alan the treatment he deserved. And, of course, Jonas would continue searching for his brother in the Dream World. He was sure Alan was there. He’d find his brother and wake him up. It was all going to work out. Jonas wanted to believe that.

  He grabbed the box with the bowler hat and the black umbrella along with the bag of clothes, and paused at the end of the bed. “Wish me luck,” he said to Alan, and then he turned and walked out of the room, missing the nurse who came moments later with his dinner.

  The Eden Hotel was across town, so Jonas used the bus pass he’d swiped from the nurse’s station earlier in the week. He got off a block short and popped open the umbrella, reciting in his head all of his potential qualifications as his sneakers splashed along the wet sidewalk. When he could only come up with a few, he began reciting the ones he’d lie about.

  Across the street, he stopped and looked at the prestigious hotel. It was a massive stone building that took up nearly the entire block. A burgundy awning led the way from the street to oversized wood doors. The building was, at once, vintage and upscale-modern, familiar and completely new. He tried to find hints of his mother, but found none. Now it was just a hotel. And judging by the cars in the valet line, a high-class one.

  Jonas swallowed hard, adjusted the collar on his shirt and wiped his damp hands on the thighs of his jeans. The hatbox was tucked under his arm, and Jonas considered putting on the bowler, but he wanted to appear confident, not desperate. He was already holding a bag full of clothes. With a deep breath, he hopped over a puddle and jogged across the street and under the awning.

  The doorman watched his approach and then politely came over to take the umbrella. The man glanced at it, obviously recognizing it belonged to the Eden, but didn’t say as much.

  Jonas took a moment to assess the doorman. He was middle-aged with a purposeful five o’clock shadow and a smart black suit with a bright white shirt. Combined with the bowler hat and skinny tie, Jonas actually bought into the look. It reminded him of his father.

  “Can I get you a room, sir?” the doorman asked. Jonas’s confidence waned.

  “Oh, um…actually, I…” He tugged on the collar of his shirt, all of his rehearsed reasons evaporating. “I’m here for a job.”

  The doorman straightened and quickly scanned him. He handed him back the umbrella. “Are you Alan?”

  Jonas opened his mouth and actually considered lying, considered slipping into his brother’s role, but he wanted Alan to get the job back when he woke up, so he shook his head no. “I’m his brother. But I was hoping to talk to the manager about the position.”

  The doorman’s mouth twitched with a smile. “So you’re showing up unannounced to speak with Marshall about a job? For your brother?”

  Well, shit, Jonas thought. Maybe this wasn’t such a brilliant plan. “Is…Marshall around?” he asked, refusing to back down before he gave it his best try. Now the doorman just looked entertained.

  “He certainly is,” the guy said, touching a Bluetooth wrapped around his ear. “This is Hillenbrand at the front door. I have a…” He rolled out his hand for Jonas to supply his name.

  “Mr. Anderson,” Jonas whispered.

  “I have a Mr. Anderson,” the doorman continued, “here to see Mr. Marshall. Unexpectedly.”

  There was a long pause and Hillenbrand laughed. “Yes, seriously,” he said.

  Jonas bit on his lower lip and looked around the street, embarrassment heating his face.

  “I assume it’s about the doorman position,” Hillenbrand responded. Jonas glanced at him and nodded, and Hillenbrand seemed pleased with himself. “Thank you very much, Vera.”

  The doorman touched the Bluetooth again and turned to Jonas. “Mr. Marshall will be here shortly.”

  “Thanks,” Jonas mumbled, feeling cold for the first time since leaving the hospital.

  The doorman turned back toward the street, arms at his side like a toy soldier. He shifted his eyes to Jonas. “If you don’t mind my asking, what happened to your brother? We’ve been covering his shift for the past week and it’s a nightmare. We were about ready to track him down and beat the shit out of him.”

  “Shouldn’t be hard. He’s at University Hospital. ICU.”

  Hillenbrand’s face fell, and he turned back to the street. “Sorry,” he murmured. Jonas nodded, accepting the apology.

  The two of them continued on in silence and watched the valet park cars that had been left by the entrance. An older woman in a fur stole came out the front door of the Eden. A sharply dressed man chased behind her, an unopened umbrella clutched in his hand.

  Hillenbrand’s eyes widened and he jogged ahead, flagging down the first cab to pass. The woman looked him over. Rain dripped off the brim of his bowler hat while she stayed dry under her assistant’s umbrella.

  “Thank you, Charlie,” she said to Hillenbrand and offered him her hand. Jonas curled his lip, wondering if the doorman was supposed to kiss it like some peasant, but then he saw the flash of green and realized she was giving him money.

  The door of the hotel opened again. A black man in an impeccable pinstripe suit studied Jonas from the top of his head to the tips of his sneakers. His beard and mustache combo was perfectly trimmed, and he pulled his mouth to the side as if looking truly unimpressed.

  “Mr. Anderson?” he asked in a deep, hearty voice.

  “Yes, hi,” Jonas said quickly, switching the bag of clothes to his left hand so he could extend his right. Instead of taking it, the man motioned inside and then walked back through the door. Jonas followed, uncertainly, tossing a look at Hillenbrand who gave him a thumbs-up. Jonas smiled, glad he at least had won over the doorman. He hoped Mr. Marshall would feel the same.

  Chapter Six

  “If you don’t mind me getting to the point, Mr. Anderson,” the manager said as they entered the grand lobby, “where the hell have you been for the past two weeks? If I’d have
gotten any other applications, I would have filled the position.”

  He spun on the marble floors and faced Jonas, who’d completely lost track of the conversation, instead astounded by the beauty of the hotel itself.

  The front desk was to his left, a small mahogany station with two petite women, both beautiful with coifed blond hair and dark red lipstick. Their dark eyes followed Jonas before they flashed him nearly identical, pleasant smiles. Jonas looked up at the tray ceiling where a mural had been painted, soft white clouds with dots of silver stars in the background. It seemed familiar, and it only took a moment for him to realize he remembered it from his childhood. The entire place smelled of old money—paper and sawdust and the lingering hint of expensive perfume.

  “Mr. Anderson. Alan,” the manager snapped. Jonas turned to him quickly and apologized. “Where have you been?”

  “Oh…” Jonas felt the handle of the plastic bag cutting into his left wrist. “I’m actually not Alan. I’m his brother, Jonas. I was hoping I could step in for him. You see, he’s—”

  Marshall laughed loudly, startling the women at the desk into busying themselves. The sound bordered on malicious and Jonas felt his muscles tighten for an impending argument.

  “You’re not even the right Anderson?” the man called out. “Now that’s just hilarious.” Marshall continued laughing, but it only succeeded in making Jonas more determined. This wasn’t a joke to him. This was his only shot at keeping him and Alan afloat.

  “I’m Jonas Anderson,” he said. “My brother Alan and I were on our way here from Portland. But coming over the mountain, we were in an accident.”

  The smile faded from Marshall’s face.

  “And my brother…” Jonas absently brushed his hand through his hair, messing up the slicked style he’d tried for at the hospital. “Well, Alan’s at University Hospital in a coma. But if he were awake, he’d be here. And he’d be the best damn doorman you’ve ever seen. That’s what he does,” Jonas said, feeling the blood rushing to his face. “He impresses people. But now it’s just me and I need a job. I’ll fill in for him. I’ll wash dishes. I’ll take whatever job you have. And I’ll be fucking great at it.” He looked up and saw Marshall’s stern expression. “Sir,” Jonas added, smiling weakly.

  “Alan Anderson is in a coma?” Marshall asked. His eyes were concerned, and it caught Jonas off guard.

  “Yes, sir,” Jonas said. “But he’s going to wake up. In fact, he’s seeing a specialist today. They expect him to make a full recovery.” Jonas didn’t even count this as a lie. It was the reality he chose to live in.

  Marshall slipped his hands in the pockets of his suit as if thinking things over. He looked at Jonas again, narrowing his eyes. “Aren’t you still in high school?” he asked. Jonas nodded, resisting the urge to say “Unfortunately.” “I won’t encourage you to leave school,” Marshall said. “That means you’d have to work the ten to two a.m. shift.”

  Jonas’s spirits brightened. Was he about to get the job? “I’m totally fine with that.” He pulled out the box under his arm. “I even brought the hat and the umbrella. I just need a suit.”

  “Hm…” Marshall said glancing over Jonas’s outfit and then at the bag of clothes at his side. “That’s a certainty.” He took a breath and exhaled heavily, apparently not totally convinced. “Fine,” Marshall said after a long moment. “You can train tonight. I’ll send my assistant, Molly, down with your uniform. Meet Hillenbrand at six at the staff entrance so he can show you around. The girls,” he motioned to the front desk, “will give you directions. See you tonight, Mr. Anderson.”

  Jonas smiled and watched as the manager started to walk away. It struck him then that he didn’t know his pay rate or where he’d be staying tonight. “Sir?” he called.

  The manager turned around. “Yes?” he responded gruffly.

  “Room and board?”

  Mr. Marshall closed his eyes and motioned for Jonas to follow him. Without missing a beat, Jonas fell into step at his side and walked with him onto the elevators. The manager pushed the button for the basement and Jonas felt his heart dip.

  “You keep suites in the basement?” he asked.

  The manager laughed, glancing over at him like he was crazy. “You’re not getting a suite,” he said definitively. “There’s a renovated custodian’s closet down there. It has a bed and a tub—the basics.”

  Jonas clenched his teeth and shook his head. “Alan said you were giving him a suite.”

  “Yes, well you’re not Alan, are you?” Marshall replied coldly. “You’re lucky I have anything at all.”

  Jonas wanted to argue, but he knew he was powerless in the situation. Great, he thought. I’m going from living in a hospital room to sleeping in a janitor’s closet. Some new life we’ve got, Alan.

  The elevator doors slid open, and Jonas followed behind the manager, noting the faded green wallpaper in the hallway, the threadbare carpet. Marshall stopped at a wooden door and pulled a metal key from the key ring hooked onto his belt. He unlocked the door and then worked the key off the ring before holding it out to Jonas. He must have sensed Jonas’s disappointment because his expression softened slightly.

  “I really hope to see your brother soon,” he said. “But in the meantime, you work for me. You show up on time, act professionally, and don’t cause any trouble. Staff meals are prepared and held in the kitchen.” He pointed down the hall toward a metal door. “Through there, to your left.”

  Jonas’s emotions were a mixture of gratitude and regret. He hated being underestimated, but more than anything, he hated that he was the one here instead of Alan.

  “Yes, sir,” Jonas said. He took the key, surprised to find how heavy it was. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  “No, you won’t,” Marshall said, clapping him on the shoulder. “My shift ends at six. Don’t talk to me after that.” He chuckled to himself and started back toward the elevator.

  Jonas waited for him to go, thinking it would be more polite, and once the elevator doors slid closed, he turned and pushed his way inside the old room.

  It was dark, and Jonas felt along the wall until he found the switch and turned on the light. His mouth fell open. It was no surprise this place had been a custodial closet. The room still smelled of cleaning products, which he guessed was better than most things it could have smelled like. The plaster walls were a dingy white with several rows of tile near the sink near the back. An old clawfoot tub looked unfit to wash in, and there was a twin bed with a rusty iron frame.

  Jonas stared so long, he lost track of time and jumped when there was a knock on the door behind him. He turned and opened it, still holding his hatbox and a trash bag filled with clothes. On the other side stood a girl dressed in a crisp white shirt and black dress pants. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, and she blushed when she saw Jonas.

  “When Marshall told me he was sticking a poor soul in here,” she said, “I didn’t believe him.” She smiled, unable to hold Jonas’s eyes. “I’m his assistant, Molly.” The girl was small and mousy, not much older than Jonas, but her shyness was endearing.

  “Nice to meet you,” he said, shifting the weight of the items in his hands. “I’m Jonas.”

  “I know,” she said. “And of course, I’m terribly sorry about your brother. The weather on the coast can be unpredictable.”

  Jonas flinched. “What? How did you…yeah…”

  Molly’s gaze darted to his, and then flitted away. “Sorry. I was the one who selected Alan for the job and contacted him. Marshall just told me he’s in the hospital. Anyway,” she smoothed her hands down the thighs of her pants, looking nervous, “dinner’s at five if you’ll be around. If not, we keep the leftovers in the walk-in. They’re labeled. And I’ve sent your uniform to housekeeping for pressing. You can pick it up before your shift.”

  “Great. Thanks,” Jonas said, leaning against the door
frame. “Anything else I should know about this place?”

  Molly looked up at him, pausing long enough to make Jonas straighten. “Sure,” she said, smiling politely. “It’s an old building and the sound tends to travel. So don’t be too wary of things you might hear in the night.”

  “Uh…” He pulled together his eyebrows, waiting for her to laugh. But Molly nodded politely, and turned to rush down the hallway. Jonas stuck his head out of the doorway and watched after her. Once she was gone, he closed the door and laughed to himself.

  “Weird.” He set the hatbox on the nightstand and dropped the clothes in the corner. He took the time to check over the room, glad to see it wasn’t exactly dirty, just old. He went to pause in front of the small glass mirror that had been attached above the sink. His hair had fallen over his eyes and the circles under them had only deepened. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept a full night. It seemed like it could have been years.

  But he was exhausted now. Jonas kicked off his sneakers and fell onto the bed, greeted by the creaking of the wire springs. He lay there, staring up at the naked bulb hanging from the ceiling. He slid his fingers into his back pocket and plucked out the business card to study it.

  “Doctor Moss,” he read aloud. Jonas felt his eyes growing heavy as sleep rushed up on him. “I hope you can help us.” Jonas set the card next to his pillow before curling up on his side to face it. “I hope you can help Alan.”

  This time, when Jonas fell asleep, he was too tired to tell himself to search for Alan, a routine he’d gone through every night since the accident. That was how he and Alan would set up for lucid dreaming, focusing on a single thought or place to make it come true. But his bones ached and his mind drifted, and next thing he knew, Poet was sitting on a subway car.

  “And there he is,” Sketch said, hanging onto the pole as Gunner smiled from behind his shoulder. Around them the subway car swayed. “Poet, my man,” Sketch continued. “You have missed the best night. Gunner swears he saw a city last time, back when that old dude kidnapped you.”