CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
The battle was over between Mr Black and the obnoxious rainbow of colours that thrived during the day. The families of all the slaughtered shades cried, pouring their remains from the sky in the form of rain. It was thick and each inch that Mr Black waded through reminded him of all the varied lives that he slaughtered with his monotone blanket. Despite that, he still somehow found joy in it all. Squint and one could see a sharp smile through the dense cloud of black.
Mathew shifted through the curtains of rain that smashed against his overcoat. His car was parked a distance away which left a distance for him to walk. Having to wash his hair once more that day didn’t bother him. What bothered him was the thick layer of pitch darkness that refused to let him see exactly where he was going. The closest street lamp was a fistful of meters away. The pavement was laced with a plethora of puddles that cracked and screamed under every heavy step from the six foot man.
The wind was minimal, tight and yet brought a sharp cool texture along with its faint blow. After a short walk, Mathew collected his frustrated thoughts and packed them back roughly into his coat pocket. Kevin’s house stood firmly in front of Mathew, half hiding behind the black curtain. He opened the gate and shifted his head down to his chest in order to see exactly where the night was leading him. The oval shaped dip to the door was clean, washed by the rain, which made the stone tiles all the more difficult to manoeuvre on.
Mathew held out his right hand to reach out to the chest height ground. He dragged his palm cupped over the wet stone and fringe of grass. Mud collected in his palm. When he reached the door he wiped his hand on the bottom half of his overcoat. The rain continued to torment the drowned soil and Mathew’s already soaked scalp. Before knocking he took a moment to wash his eyes with what remained at the bottom of his cheap drink. It was a smooth smudge, loss of focus that danced in front of his pupils. He felt confident however and took a few pondered seconds to wipe away any sign of how much he drank.
Standing a few feet from the face of the door he took the opportunity to look at the house. Look at it, point out every possible flaw, every conceivable connection to the man he was about to meet and greet. He wanted to form an idea of how the man would speak from all the wild flowers and the faint light visible through the window. Mathew knocked on the door, one fist and three bangs.
The door opened revealing Kevin standing on his private legs, with one hand on the door ready to close. His hair was loose, thrown back by a drag of a few fingers. His simple salmon coloured shirt appeared darkly pink by the light from the kitchen. It painted his back, shining and highlighting his white hair as if the tips were burning from the cold.
“Hello... um” Mathew said with his hands frozen from something. He didn’t know if it was the weather or a slight sense of stage fright. “Get to the point its clearly late and pretty cold. I don’t want my knees to start shivering like yourself.” The words from Kevin came in the same packaged bundle of dry humour and proud laughter.
“Yes… I am aware of the time.” Mathew stood his ground and tried to steady his arms. He dug an expectant look into Kevin. “Don’t get short with me boy. I’m the one with the hand on the door, so you don’t have the privilege of being smart with me. This door… this fucking door is very emotional when it comes to people who don’t say who they are. Its mood swings are well known... I have ta change the hinges every month.” Kevin said with a distinct sense of pride. Mathew sensed hostility build up. He wasn’t sure if Kevin knew him or not. All he knew is that they had never met before.
“Sorry... I really don’t mean to instil hostilities. My name is Mathew Hughes.”
“Doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue.” Mathew quickly sliced his reply into the conversation. “I think you know who I am.”
“I never said I didn’t, although I don’t know why you are here so late at night. Susan isn’t here if that’s who ya are looking for.” Kevin said tightening his grip on the door. His words were quieter and more paced than previously. Mathew removed his hands from his pockets and let them hang under the outside faucet. “Don’t worry… I’m not looking for Susan.” He said breaking his gaze from Kevin’s stern and now stiff face. He took the moment to drag his attention across the inside of the house. He looked at everything on offer through the gap in the door. The rustic kitchen table poked out into view.
“You seem to be looking for a lot of other things” Kevin said narrowing the door and closing the gap with his body. “It’s raining”
“And yet you chose to come here at this time. Rain isn’t a good enough reason to let you in.” His words created a crudely built wall blocking any attempt to get in.
The garden shifted under the stomach of Mr Black. That tree, that towering tree that fondled itself on the idea of how alpha its branches were, did just that. A few snaps of crackled and brushed sounds popped in Mathew’s eardrum. “You must have spent quite a large amount of time working on your garden. I’m not even going to pretend to know how long it might have taken to build that pathway.” Mathew threw those words back into the conversation, desperately trying to gain a good vantage point. The fact that Kevin still entertained him was a good sign.
“If you are not here for Susan, then why in the name of all that is fuck are you doing here at my house at this hour in this weather?” Kevin asked aggressively. “I can see why she is scared of you...” Mathew was immediately cut off by Kevin and a nose full of confusion. He sniffed and snorted with disbelief and disgust. “Scared of me?!?”
“Whenever I hear about you, it’s always about how you bury your head in your garden... she described in a way, quite poetically actually... something like... you do it so much is that she can see dirt marks around your neck every time she visits. I took it that she wasn’t speaking literally.” Mathew said with a new found sense of confidence within the ring of the conversation.
Two things happened next. First Mathew rested his eyes on the lining of Kevin’s neck. Secondly he rose is arm to hip height and angled it like a slide. He kept it still, letting all the collected rain pour down his arm onto Kevin’s floor. The water dripped and splashed across the tiles, sheds of wet landed on his nightly shoes. Kevin straightened his neck and sharpened his curiosity directly at Mathew. His drenched hair cried from the incessant down pour, which unfortunately made his scalp weep even more. It was a never ending circle of wet abuse.
Kevin backed away with a few paced steps and brought the bi-polar door with him. Mathew could smell an intense punch of warmth shove its way up his nostrils as he walked inside the house. He couldn’t tell if he was happier to continue the conversation or escape the cold. Cleaning his boots with a few cute shakes he walked into the house and ended up in the middle of the kitchen. Kevin closed the door refusing Mr Black to spread his wealth even further than usual.
Mathew held a moment right beneath his tongue, trying not to say anything before he soaked in every interesting facet of the place. He stood next to the table holding and rubbing his hands with each frozen palm.
The kitchen merged with an open area that had a few loosely thrown stools and armchairs. A table hid underneath the window to the front garden. A faint and inconspicuous lamp merged with the simplistic wall behind it. Looking directly at the lamp rendered the idea that it was weak and barely capable of lighting anything. But it lit up the entire lower half of the house without any help from other lighted sources. A book and a half drank cup of tea yawned with impatience on the large table.
“Liking the rustic feel to it all. I would say “nice place” and all the other pleasantries that come to instinct, but you seem like the kind of man who doesn’t like to waste time.”
“What do you call this? Feck mate if you don’t explain your statement now then I’m going to regret letting you in.” Kevin said throwing his arms out presenting the very situation that they found themselves in. His fingers shook a little, wringing and dancing at the tips from a strong need for rest. Mathew saw from his wasted eye
s that he needed sleep, or something equivalent to cutting brain cells in half. He was clearly neck deep in something before he had opened the door. Mathew blamed Kevin’s frustrated attitude to that possibility. The word plan was used very loosely with Mathew. It was more an alcohol dripped need that resulted in a pinpointed idea of the problem. As for what he did was entirely left up to the turning tides of emotions that late night.
Mathew played with the distance that they had together. He knew that Kevin for as much a reason as anyone else would want to maintain a comfortable stance against a tall and young stranger. So he grabbed the distance that formed between them. He wrapped his dripped fingers around the very loose line and started to reel it in towards himself. After every few tugs he would throw the line over his shoulder so that it wouldn’t get in the way. Quite difficult considering his hands were controlled by the notions of an empty whiskey glass.
“Now is a good a time as any to start regretting.” Mathew whispered from the skin of his lips. Pulling harder on the line, he walked closer. The distance of the line shortened alongside Kevin’s breath. Mathew saw ringing shakes dance between Kevin’s fingers as if he was trying to telepathically send an emergency message.
“I don’t mean to instil hostilities. Deceptive little lad huh? Get out of my house.” Kevin said stabbing his feet to the floor. Mathew moved in closer to him, blocking most of his view of the kitchen. It was the distance that no longer existed which punched regret into Kevin’s chest. It was tough and brisk, quickly dancing to and from his ribs with snapping fists. Their shadows merged with the narrowing gap between the two. Naturally it pissed off Kevin’s shadow who now stood with crossed arms afraid that they would be forced to submit.
“I’m going to say my bit and you are going to take it in like the proud and caring father that you are… understood.” Mathew said raising his clenched fists into the conversation. They remained at the side of his coat, yet suddenly became highlighted to Kevin. “Leave now!” With that Mathew let go of the line, false comfort more than anything. A few steps backward into the landscape of the kitchen. When he turned around he saw the cup of tea, which had fully frozen with impatience.
“One night. Some night ago. Late anyways. Susan called me to pick her up from here. Her voice was unusual, which I should have taken as the first sign. When I saw her she was crippled from something. I don’t know what exactly. Even though she wanted comfort, she was pretty tight lipped about it... I held her the entire night. Do you know what it’s like to hold someone who is fundamentally afraid? Afraid of you.” Mathew stood firm and let his soaked arms hang. That’s how his arms advertised themselves anyways. Each curled muscle in his forearms tightened and flaunted their capabilities. Kevin’s ribs weakened from all of the abusive words. They acted as punches striking against the very bones that hovered near his warm gooey candy caramelised heart.
“Susan can’t be afraid of me! I raised her. I gave her shelter, love, fucking heat! I have done nothing but treat her with care! She is my daughter, a part of me… she cannot be afraid of me.” Kevin said opening the front door and flexing his jaw to the constant bang of fear that broke his bones. Rain cried its way into the fray of the scene, demanding and throwing tantrums to once more play a part amongst the two men. Unfortunately the only source that had any form of a background base was Kevin’s chest. Which only he heard.
“You know she had a good stable job at my agency. More than anything else she had when I wasn’t in her life... did she tell you about that job? At all?” Kevin stood silent trying to juggle the incessant boxing match between his ribs and the information that he received. Mathew could tell from his washed face that he was confused by what he had told him. He pondered it, whether it was true or made from fabricated fabrics.
“I have been towing my point all night. Desperately want to know why she is scared of you?” Mathew said once more digging his thumbs into the loose line between them. Narrowing the distance he teased very simple ideas. Simplistic thoughts of velvet violence. Like the face of a chef’s knife. It’s all about the possibilities. Kevin stood torn at his door, unable to throw guarded words from his usual bucket of insults and curses.
“Every time she visits she expects to see you hanging stiff from the ceiling.” The words tumbled out from Mathew’s lips. The distance had now fully disappeared between them. He stood above Kevin with his face plastered and carved into his comfort zone. Light had refused Mr Black to take over much of the house, but at that moment he frolicked about on both of their faces. The door was still open, which allowed a punch of air to crawl up Kevin’s spine. It messed with his hair and froze his eyes into a position of turmoil. It was the entire play of ingesting the information that Mathew presented, and the process of trying to separate fact from friction. In turn heavy punches on his chest made his ribs twist and bend to each heavy breath that he tried to squeeze in.
“And because of that she thinks it’s right... healthy to cut all of her ties just so she can calm you down from the noose.” Each, each and every syllable, each one created from Mathew’s grinding teeth stabbed holes right between Kevin’s yawning ribs. His eyes widened in rhythm to his breathing. Mathew expected a reply, but rolled with the stared silence that he got instead. Kevin’s legs weakened alongside every one of his exhausted crippled bones. His grip of the door had fallen to his side and the reality of his health problem filled his palms. His heart ached trying to run away from the heart attack that came next.
Mathew placed his hand on Kevin’s shoulder and dug his fingers into the loose folds of his top. “There is something wrong with you Kevin, something lacking... I’m just glad that Susan turned out as well as she did.” The words acted as the last few pokes through his ribs. They were carried through a faint series of taps that Mathew played on his shoulder. Mathew’s face was sculpted by the very ideologies of success. Wind sharpened through the open door and carved a slight smile into his cheeks. The collected mulch of his drink framed the award and coated the winning medal with its own golden shade of vomit.
Sound from the scratching branches filled the soundtrack, which accompanied Kevin’s bending knees. His heart plagued his muscles, sending sharp knifed hellos’ through his very tendons. The ground fell beneath him and was replaced with a cushion and blanket lined floor. His joints morphed into balls of collected cotton.
Kevin grabbed onto Mathew’s coat and held onto it with a few hanging fingers. Mathew backed off almost in disgust at what he was seeing. His joints spread and spilled across the floor, leaving no option but for Kevin to lay silently. Mathew took a few steps backwards and filled his mouth with the fresh air that seeped in from outside.
The scene was presented upon a very fine platter held by the exact consistent hands of Mr Black. Dramatic weather tormented its own nature, thrashing and turning in abuse. Mathew stood tall holding his high shoulders. He was coated with the warmth from inside the house and frightened by the rain outside. He shook from every aspect of the human spectrum as if being flung by some demented pill. Kevin sprawled along the line of wet that poured its way in from the outside. His arms turned tangled and twisted against time’s attack on his chest. Life was still in him. Mathew saw this as he held the moment in his hand as if it were a very physical decision. It only had two edges, yet it was sharp and cut into the safety of his thumbs.
His eyes travelled through an entire continent of thought, trying to find the one place that they felt safe in, that felt like home. With that he took one last look around the house and walked over the rotting bundle of consequences that lay heaped on the wet floor. He closed the door and once more joined the large shower that continued to cry outside. All in all he made sure not to slam the door, gentle was the way he felt. So he inched it closed like a whisper saying goodbye.
Mr Black covered him which made it look as if his coat was made from the very skin of Black. Walk home. That’s all he had to do. It wasn’t necessarily difficult to walk to his car, yet he found it unbearably
hard to move from the spot. The sky continued to pour its salty waste along the edges of his shoulders. Directly from the front door he took out his phone. With his nose lit up from a hushed sea blue he pulled the phone up to his ear. “I need an ambulance.”
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