On/Off - A Jekyll and Hyde Story

by Mike Attebery

  The mother seemed to ignore them as she looked through a wad of papers and glanced up at the clock. The little boy ran back towards his sister, again eyeing the braids intently. Then, just as he was reaching for the hair, his mother leaned forward in her seat and grabbed the back of his jacket, stopping him dead in his tracks. He made a whimpering noise as the collar caught his throat.

  “Jeremy! Cut it out!” the woman hollered, then she dropped her hold on the jacket and went back to her paperwork.

  Jeremy sat down and pouted.

  A couple of Bukowski types stood by the vending machines, their hair shooting out in all directions, their faces blackened with dirt and stubble. Jamie thought of a Wiley E. Coyote cartoon where TNT had just blown up under the hapless protagonist’s nose. Face by Acme.

  A few remaining travelers waited out on the platform, their clothes rippling in the wind.

  The snow seemed to be picking up force. The drive home wasn’t gonna be any easier.

  Jamie turned and watched Kelli at the ticket counter. She handed the teller her credit card and looked through her wallet, absentmindedly playing with a strand of her hair. He was going to miss her. Christ, was he ever going to miss her.

  “It’s just a week,” he muttered to himself.

  In a week they’d be back at the dorms. Fritz had given them the keys so they could sneak in before anyone else got back. Think of the fun the two of them would have in a massive, empty building. Creepy, sexy fun. He smiled. Just a week. Just a week. Then Kelli took her ticket from the teller and walked over to him. Their eyes locked as she swept a lock of hair behind her ear. It damn near killed him.

  “I wish I was staying!” she said.

  “I do too.”

  They were quiet. Then, without a word, they headed out the double doors and onto the platform. The snow was coming down harder. An icy gust of wind wheezed over the roof of the terminal, sweeping a cloud of snow down with it. Kelli stepped towards Jamie and ducked her head down against his side. He could smell her hair, could feel her warm cheek brush against his chin. He put his arms around her, pulled her tight against him. The train whistle sounded around the bend. A moment later, it was pulling into the station. The platform rumbled under their feet. Kelli looked up at him, her eyes a deep, shimmering blue. They kissed goodbye and she walked away, slipping into line with the other passengers.

  The train stopped and a conductor came out and set a case of Rubbermaid steps down on the platform. He motioned towards a group of parka-clad departing passengers, who wobbled their way down the wiggly steps, then he turned to the next batch of passengers.

  “All aboard!”

  The group began boarding. Kelli waited for the woman with the two bubble-jacketed kids to herd them on board, then she slowly walked up the steps. She turned at the top and gave Jamie one last, long look, then waved her hand, and slipped inside. The rest of the passengers made their way on board, quickly on account of the cold, then the conductor made a series of announcements over the loudspeaker, his voice murmuring from the train’s windows and drifting out into the icy air. Another announcement mumbled over the platform P.A. system and the doors to the train slid shut. The engine made an irritable, whining groan as the wheels slowly came to life, slipping on the metal rails, then catching hold and pulling the train forward with a flinty squeal.

  Jamie stood on the platform, watching the cars rumble away. Then, in a wink, the snow clouds swallowed all signs of the train. He listened as the sounds faded to silence. A gust of wind murmured around him as he turned and cut through the station to his car.

  The drive home was nerve-wracking. The road conditions were deteriorating swiftly. Jamie flipped on his lights and found himself testing the brakes every few feet, afraid to pick up any momentum. The Buick felt particularly empty now. Just the sounds of slush spattering the bottom of the floorboards. He reached over and flipped on the radio. “Brother Wease” was putting in another plug for his tattoo shop, talking about the next concert that he’d be hosting at the Dinosaur Barbecue. Wease was sounding pretty good. The cancer was in remission, his voice was, well, not strong, but damn near back to normal. His signature sound had lost little from his operation and treatment a few years back. Though they’d been through much different experiences, hearing the Wease back on the radio was just the touch of normalcy that Jamie needed. People hit unexpected bumps in the road, dealt with them, and moved on. That’s what Wease had done, and that’s what he was doing now. Hopefully.

  If nothing else, he was back in school, and he had a new girl in his life. This relationship felt different from anything in the past. It was physical and intense, but there was something different going on. For all their erotic adventures and misadventures over the last month or so, there was more at work here. Intimacy was part of it, but not entirely; after all, he hadn’t told her anything about the operation yet. He knew she had some inkling that something was wrong. Or at least... unusual. Hell, he’d caught her looking at his pills and the scars on more than a few occasions. She just had to Google the names on his pill containers to get an idea of what he might be dealing with. Since she hadn’t brought it up, and since she showed no signs of backing away from him, if Kelli had looked up any of the medications, she must not have found enough to totally scare her away. Not yet anyway. So why hadn’t he told her everything?

  Was he afraid something was wrong?

  Always.

  Nothing specific. Just normal concerns. Superstition. He reached over and knocked on the dashboard’s fake wood paneling.

  God forbid anything was wrong. Aside from the headache that first week, and a growing sense of fatigue, perhaps from a bit too much late night fucking, and a few too many early morning runs, he was feeling good. This morning they’d exchanged their Christmas presents. They hadn’t opened them yet, but he’d wanted to. Christmas Eve they’d call each other and open their gifts at the same time. He’d found an antique locket at a shop downtown several weeks ago, and had put together a couple of photos of the two of them that he’d doctored in Photoshop. If you looked at the photos quickly, you might not see that anything had been done, just a couple of sepia toned prints of two young lovers, which was essentially what they were, but he’d added some extra touches, hints of color that would stand out to the studied eye. Maybe it was cheesy. He hoped not. The main gift was the locket, which was really cool - an old-time, engraved set of interlocking silver shells, with a firm clasp, just the right amount of tarnish in the details, and a beautiful matching chain. It had set him back a couple hundred dollars, and it looked it. Maybe it was overkill, but then again, Kelli seemed to be in this for the long haul, so he’d gone for it. Not that he’d have passed it up either way.

  It might be good to go for a run today if the weather cleared. It had been a couple of days since he’d had some good exercise. If the snow slowed at all, he could jog the path behind the house and make his way to the Pittsford golf course. A run would feel great right now. That is, if the weather shifted. As always, the last thing he wanted to do was to fall and hit his head. Maybe one day that would stop being a constant fear for him, but it was still too soon.

  He was deep in his mind, going over the path he’d take to the course. He’d done it a million times before, could see every root, every turn off and muddy slope along the way, as if he were running the course then and there, could anticipate the sensation of his feet pounding down on the snowy ground. He was too relaxed behind the wheel, was letting second nature set in as he made the turnoff onto the side street from the main drag and up into his own neighborhood. The Buick seemed to be taking the turn just fine, its nose jutting out into the road, wheels following the line, then, at the last minute, the back end spun around just a bit too fast, and the car started to go into a spin, whirling around on the icy white pavement, and spinning out into the line of oncoming traffic. Jamie spun the wheel instinctively in the opposite direction, even as a guttural scream rose up from his belly. His eyes bulged at the sight of
an oncoming truck, its horn sounding with the baritone burping of an ocean liner. Jamie pulled one hand from the wheel, his arm jerking up to shield his eyes. This was it.

  Honnnnnnnk! Honnnnnnnk!

  The truck let off two long bursts of air through the horn. The car seemed to slow down, a little extra sway going into the twirling motion. Then the sides of the tires hit the curb, slamming the car to a stop as the truck arced around the Buick and roared down the road. Jamie kept his eyes clamped shut. A burst of hot blood exploded in his forehead. He sucked in a deep breath of air and opened his yes.

  He looked at his hands.

  No blood. No broken glass.

  He’d been distracted. Taken the turn too fast.

  The road was empty again. The truck’s tail lights disappearing in the whiteness beyond.

  “Jesus Christ,” Jamie muttered to himself. Jesus Christ.

  A feeling of oozing cool flowed out from his forehead and radiated through his face. He reached over, put the car back into gear, and pulled a U-turn in the middle of the road. He pointed toward Pittsford and started on his way home again.

  ***

  The house was dark when he arrived. He walked up the front steps, his knees weak, feet leaden. He could feel his face sagging.

  “Mom?” he shouted.

  No answer. She was probably out skiing.

  He needed to take a short nap. Recharge from the shock of that near miss. His body had gone into panic mode; now it was crashing.

  He stumbled across the living room, pulling off his damp clothing as he staggered to the couch and collapsed in a heap.

  He saw a purple haze, then the crimson curtain of his eye lids, then nothing.

  He slept.

  At some point he heard the creaking of the front door. Lynn was home, walking through the house. She sang and hummed to herself as she went about her routine. Then, she must have seen him sleeping and grew quiet, slipping into the kitchen and closing the door behind her.

  He heard the wind outside. Felt drafts of cold air whistling in under the front door, curling their way through the house, and sailing past him as they swirled into the fireplace and up the chimney.

  Still he slept.

  ~

  Finally, he woke with a start. Sitting bolt upright and gasping for air.

  He looked around the room in confusion, wiped a mist of cold sweat from his forehead, and stared at the fireplace.

  A fire was burning now.

  How long had he been sleeping?

  It was dark outside.

  He walked over to the front door and turned on the light. The snow was still coming down. This storm was a monster.

  A monster.

  Jesus. He still couldn’t wake up. He shook his head, rubbed at the edges of his eyes. All for naught. The mental cobwebs held their ground.

  He headed for the kitchen and the sounds of Bob Dylan.

  Lynn was standing at the counter, paying bills.

  “Ohh, mama, can this really be the end?” she sang. “To be stuck inside of Mobile with the Memphis blues again.” She danced to the music as Bob picked up with the next verse. Then she spotted Jamie from the corner of her eye and jumped in surprise. “You’re up!”

  “Yeah, I’m up. How long was I asleep?”

  “A long time. Long enough for Kelli to call for you, say she’d made it down to the city okay.”

  “Oh my God,” he muttered.

  “Everything all right?” Lynn watched him closely as she pulled the lid from a covered dish. Steam swirled up around her as she spooned leftovers out into a bowl.

  Jamie sat down at the table. “Yeah, I was just exhausted. The schedule I’ve been keeping must have finally caught up with me.”

  “You’re probably right.” Lynn set the bowl down in front of her son. “Have something to eat and see if you feel better.”

  Jamie ate quietly, staring at the flickering flames in the fireplace.

  “You have anything you want to do while you’re home? Any holiday requests?” Lynn asked him.

  “Hmm?” Jamie responded absently.

  “Boy, you’re still in dreamland, aren’t you?” she replied.

  “Oh,” Jamie started. “I dunno, just watch the usual movies, hang out. I assume we’re seeing the family too.”

  “Yeah, we’ll head over to your cousin’s place on Christmas for dinner and the regular routine.”

  The regular routine largely involved snubbing and critical glances. Jamie had grown used to it over the years.

  “That should be fun.”

  “Yeah,” Lynn rolled her eyes. “A regular laugh fest. Let’s make the most of things in the meantime shall we? You up for a movie tonight?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “You need to call Kelli first?”

  “Nah, I’m sure she’s tied up with family stuff her first night home. I’ll catch her in the morning.”

  Lynn nodded.

  Jamie sat and ate quietly. The thoughts in his head slowly clearing, like he was coming out of a trance. His mind was foggy, and his body was tired. It wasn’t an entirely unpleasant sensation. That’s what worried him.

  ~

  Jamie awoke in the hallway with icy cold air blowing around his ankles. The house was pitch black, and it took him a moment to get his bearings. Then, in the moonlight, he realized he was standing in the middle of the upstairs corridor, halfway between his bedroom at one end, and the second floor landing at the other. He could just see the outline of the curved staircase that led downstairs, and he knew the other flight of stairs lay hidden in the shadows to the right, leading up to his father's abandoned third-floor office.

  His eyes adjusted to the darkness as he looked around. He couldn’t remember getting up and walking out here, but how else could it have happened? Had he been sleepwalking? He’d never done it before, but there was no other explanation. The hair on his arms and legs stood on end. He shivered and rubbed his hands over his arms. His body was shaking, and he tensed up suddenly in panic.

  No!

  He willed himself to stop.

  “It’s just the cold,” he muttered under his breath.

  A gust of wind whistled at the end of the hall, and an icy draft of air swirled around him. Jamie looked behind him and saw the curtains on the window near his room billowing freely with each gust. Snowflakes had swirled inside, collecting on the red carpeting. The window was pushed all the way open. Jamie rushed over and slammed it closed. He looked down at the snowy yard. What time was it? Deep in the dead of night, that was for sure. There wasn’t a glimmer of warmth in the sky. He stared out into the darkness, then pulled the curtains tight.

  The hairs on the back of his neck bristled.

  His imagination was trying to get the better of him.

  “Calm down,” he muttered to himself.

  The upstairs hallways had always scared the hell out of him when he was a kid. If he was downstairs with his folks and they told him to go to bed early, or he wanted to get up and grab a book or a game, he’d always done it quickly, not wanting to be alone. He’d brace himself for the worst, step off the stairs on the second floor landing, glance up the second set of steps to the third floor, then take off running for his room, where he’d search frantically for the desired item before heading back down the hall, his socked feet peeling out underfoot as he scrambled to gain footing and flee. Even now, more than a decade later, he felt his legs tensing up, ready to run from the ghosts and goblins that waited for him in the shadows.

  Course, that’s when he noticed something else, down the hallway, at the point where the stairs to the third floor poked out from their little stairwell. It was dim, but it was there. A light was shining down from upstairs. Someone had been up on the third floor.

  Jamie’s mouth pulled tight. “Fuck.”

  He hesitated, then ducked into his room, grabbing a hooded sweatshirt from the corner of his bed and pulling it over his head.

  “Goddammit. You’re a grownup. Act like one for Chri
ssake.”

  He marched out into the hallway and down to the second floor landing. No lights glimmered up from the first floor. He turned toward to the third floor stairs. Hesitated. Then ducked his head around the side of the stairwell. As a kid, this was when he’d always expected someone to come lunging out at him. When he did it now, all he saw was a crooked, narrow set of steps that led up to a small corridor at the top with two doors on either side. The light was coming from the room on the left. His father’s office.

  “Ohh goody.”

  Childhood demons, on the next Dr. Phil.

  Jamie stepped up onto the first stair. It groaned under his weight. So did the next. If someone was up there, they’d know he was coming.

  “Mom-?” Jamie whispered, his voice a blown out speaker. He cleared his throat. “Mom? You up there?”

  Nothing. No response.

  “Christ.”

  Go for it.

  He headed up the stairs.

  The wood creaked and popped wildly. The doorway to Jeff’s office approached in topsy-turvy POV spasms. Then he was at the top of the stairs, two steps from the next landing. Still no noise from inside.

  He took the remaining stairs in a confident stride.

  One. Two.

  Doorway.

  Turn.

  Then, when he got around the corner, there was nothing. The light was on. The chair at the desk was pushed back, but no one was sitting in it. Here again, the windows were all pushed open. Jamie wondered if he’d been up here too. He walked into the room, glancing behind the door as he entered. No spooks or goblins or burglars were standing with their backs pressed against the wall, waiting to spring on him. He rounded the corner of the desk and felt a crinkling of paper underfoot. Dozens upon dozens of manuscript pages were spread out across the floor. Jamie paused and looked over the yellowed sheets. The font was thin and blocky. The columns of text frequently narrowed into line after line of dialogue. The stuff Jeff Pepper was famous for. He shivered, and quickly closed the windows, flipping the latches securely into place. Then his attention shifted back to the papers.