Exit Here.

by Jason Myers

  I follow Michael up to the trailer door and he knocks on it hard.

  “Goddamn,” he snorts, smacking a gnat off his shoulder. “This place sucks.” He takes a deep breath and holds it in. “Do you smell what I’m smelling, Trav?”

  Yeah. It smells like shit.

  “It smells like a rotting corpse covered in dog feces.”

  Michael lights a cigarette and knocks again and Cliff opens the door this time, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans torn up so bad that Kurt Cobain would’ve been jealous.

  “Hi, Michael. Hi, Travis,” he says, rubbing his left arm, which is all bruised up. “Come in.”

  Michael and I squeeze in between Cliff and the wood paneling of the doorframe, then Cliff closes the door behind us. “What took you so long?” he asks Michael.

  “I had to pick up Travis. His old man stranded his ass.”

  “Where at?” Cliff asks me.

  Nowhere, Cliff.

  I ask Michael for a cigarette and he bums me another one and I light it and look at Cliff. I barely even recognize him. His face is pale. Sunk in. Scabbed. His teeth are rotting yellow. His fingernails are brown. There are dirty, black colored Band-Aids on his neck and on the lobe of his left ear.

  Cliff’s eyes dart the other way when he sees me staring at him. “It’s all right that you’re late,” he tells Michael after walking over to the CD player and turning the volume down. “You guys wanna see something cool?”

  “What is it?” Michael asks.

  Cliff walks to the sink and opens the cupboards underneath it. He pulls out a brown paper bag and walks to the trailer table.

  Inhale. Exhale.

  “What is that, a fuckin’ sandwich?” Michael jokes, lighting another cigarette.

  Cliff opens the bag and pulls a gun from it. A silver .22 with a black and brown handle.

  “Sweet,” Michael nods. “Let me see it.”

  Cliff hands it to him and then looks at me and I don’t have to ask because I already know where he got it.

  “Is it loaded?” Michael asks.

  “No way, man. I’m not stupid.”

  Michael wraps both his hands around the gun points it in the direction of the door. “How much did it cost?”

  “One fifty.”

  “I like it.”

  “I can get you the guy’s info and set up a meeting.”

  “Let me think about it.”

  I don’t even know Cliff anymore.

  Michael hands the gun back to him.

  “You wanna hold it, Trav?” he asks.

  I’m cool.

  Cliff and Michael smile at each other and then Cliff puts the gun away. I see the bedroom door in the back move.

  Emerging from the shadows is my sister’s friend Katie. She’s barefoot, wearing a white halter top with a red rose print all over it and a dirty mesh skirt. Fingertip bruises cover her entire neck.

  “What up, Katie?” Michael grins.

  “Hey,” she says, looking down at the ground.

  Hi, Katie.

  “Hi, Travis,” she whispers without looking at me.

  I run my eyes up her body and stop when I notice this huge cut on the right side of her stomach. It’s purplish and healing and I want to say something but don’t.

  “So,” Cliff starts. “You wanna do this, Michael?”

  “Cool.” Michael pulls out two small baggies of glass. “Forty,” he says.

  Cliff cracks a smile and digs through his pockets like four times each before producing a balled up twenty-dollar bill. “This is all I got right now.”

  “Fuck you,” Michael snaps, putting the baggies away.

  “No, no, just wait. Can’t we work something out?” Cliff flips his head at Katie. “What do you think?”

  My chest feels like it might explode.

  “Not this time,” Michael says. “I told you on the phone I wasn’t going to make an exception this time. I mean, fuck, Cliff, I’m already cutting twenty bucks off what I would charge anyone else.”

  “I know it,” Cliff whines, picking some dry skin off his bottom lip. “And I appreciate it.”

  “No you don’t,” Michael snorts. “You’re a fucking junkie and junkies don’t appreciate shit.”

  “So what the hell do you want me to do, Michael?”

  “Give me another twenty.”

  “Are you sure we can’t do a little trade-off?” Cliff presses.

  Katie’s shoulders tense up.

  She looks broken.

  “No. That was a one-time thing,” Michael rips.

  Cliff turns to Katie. “Do you have anything on you?”

  She shakes her head.

  Cliff shakes his head. “Just go sit in the fuckin’ room, Katie. Christ.”

  She nods and walks back down the short hallway and disappears into the room and closes the door.

  Where’s Natalie? I ask.

  Cliff looks at me. “In Chicago with some dude she met. And ya know what?”

  What?

  “I don’t even care,” he laughs.

  And Michael goes, “So what am I doing, Cliff?”

  Cliff turns to me again and stares.

  What, Cliff?

  “Could you spot me?” he asks.

  Come on, man. I’m not your fucking piggy bank.

  “Please, Trav,” he begs. “I need this. I’m about to lose it. I’ll never ask you again.”

  I look at Michael and Michael looks at Cliff and then at me.

  “Please,” he whispers. “I need this.”

  Fine. Whatever.

  I pull my wallet out and hand him a twenty.

  “Thanks man. You’re so rad. This is why we go back so far.”

  I roll my eyes.

  No, Cliff. We go back so far because we go back so far and that’s it. There’s no other reason.

  “Exactly,” he nods and hands Michael the money in exchange for the crystal. “You guys wanna stick around for a minute and do some?”

  No.

  “No.”

  “All right,” he says. “Then you should both leave. Okay?”

  I roll my eyes and push the door open and walk outside. I ask Michael for another smoke.

  “Here.” He hands me a whole new pack from a pocket in his jeans.

  Do you want money too?

  He shakes his head. “No.” He climbs into the van and I light a cigarette. Cliff walks out.

  “Travis,” he calls.

  What, Cliff?

  “I’m sorry.”

  For what?

  “For being me.”

  What does that mean?

  “It means I’m sorry. Don’t forget, okay? I’m sorry.”

  Whatever.

  I open the door and jump in and Michael starts driving. He turns out of the trailer park and goes, “Let’s go to Kennedy Street. I gotta run some errands.”

  That’s cool.

  “Don’t think about Cliff, dude. I’m sure he’s done worse shit than that.”

  I’m not thinking about him, Michael. That’s what’s strange. I don’t care.

  “You’ve never cared,” he says. “Who are you trying to fool?”

  • • •

  On Kennedy Street, the two of us duck in and out of stores. Michael buys a few things—pair of Lucky’s, pair of BKs, new shades, white T-shirts.

  At the Lower Playground store, Michael grabs the annual VICE photo issue and tells me that him and Dave are moving into this righteous pad just up the block at the end of the month.

  “Shit’s gonna destroy all, brah. It’s huge, it’s cheap, and it’s right across from Bottoms Up.”

  Nice.

  On our way out of the store I notice this green poster on the storefront window that says:

  Peaches & Death present the first annual

  Karen O look-alike contest August 7th with musical guests:

  The Shoelaces, The Jill Kelly Experience,

  Lamborghini Dreams,

  and Modern Romance (A Yeah Yeah Yeahs cover b
and)

  Michael. Check it out.

  Michael looks over. “Fuck yeah,” he smiles. “Shit looks good. Our names getting out there, man. We might be the best band in the city right now.”

  That’s a pretty big statement.

  “Not really. Our stuff is that good,” he says. “Let’s move.”

  So we continue down the sidewalk, fanning ourselves with our shirts, cigarettes between our lips.

  “Let’s walk down to the Brown Jug and grab a beer,” Michael says. “Outdoor seating and shit.”

  Sweet.

  We stop at a crosswalk.

  Thanks for picking me up again.

  “No worries.”

  I called Laura before I called you but she didn’t answer.

  “Does that surprise you?” Michael asks, staring at this blonde walking by with two ink sleeves, a red satin miniskirt, fishnets, and a Lovemakers shirt.

  A little bit. We’re pretty much back together.

  Michael takes his shades off and rubs the sweat off the bridge of his nose. “What’s so special about Laura, anyway?” he asks. “Why do you want to be with her again? You’re Travis Wayne, dude. You can have a lot of other chicks who don’t suck nearly as bad as her.”

  She doesn’t suck, okay, Michael? We were together for a long time.

  “That means nothing.”

  Yes it does.

  The light turns green and we cross the intersection. I flick my smoke at the side of a building.

  “You guys used to cheat on each other all the time,” Michael says. “You fought constantly. She tried punching your lights out a few times. What was so fucking great about that?”

  Because there were times when we were alone and not all messed up on drugs. We’d go on drives during the afternoon and lie around and say the stupidest things to each other. But they were things that seemed so important at the time.

  Michael drops his smoke on the ground.

  And there were other times when no one was around and she took care of me and listened to what I had to say. When my cousin Alex was shot and killed, she was with me every night. She came to Chicago with my family for the funeral. She stayed up with me while I told her things I’ve never told anyone, and she never said a word. She just listened. That’s the shit you guys never saw.

  “So what, Trav? I still don’t get why you think you need to be with her now. You’re the one who quit talking to her. Where were all those rosy fucking times you just told me about then?”

  I stop walking.

  I need her back, Michael.

  “No you don’t.”

  Yes I do. I need to have something again.

  “You already have everything, Travis. What more could you want?”

  I want to go back.

  “Why?”

  Because it’s the only thing I know.

  30.

  MY LAST NIGHT IN HAWAII I got really wasted on booze and tried calling the coke dealer again, but he wasn’t picking up, so I decided to go out and ended up playing an AC/DC pinball machine at one of the bars I’d hopped to and that’s when I saw her.

  She walked across the bar in this green hula skirt and white lace top. She was beautiful and had long black hair that was tied in the back and matched the milky dark color of her skin.

  Walking by me as she left the bar, she smiled and I smiled back, but I didn’t give it another thought until I was out of quarters. Instead of going back for another drink, I felt like getting some fresh air and stumbled the thirty feet down to the shoreline, and heard someone say hi.

  I turned around.

  Behind me was the same girl from the bar. She looked amazing, standing under the bright stars of the Pacific sky, and I was so drunk, so ready for anything.

  “Didn’t I just see you losing a game of pinball?” she asked.

  You did, I slurred.

  “Bummer,” she went.

  This whole night has been kind of a bummer.

  “Mine too.” Pause. “I have a thought,” she said.

  What’s that?

  “Maybe we could turn it all around. I have a lot of fun things in my room.”

  I smiled.

  Really?

  “Of course. I wouldn’t lie about something like that. Some things . . .”

  Are too sacred, I finished.

  “Exactly,” she said. “So, what do you think?”

  I don’t have to. You had me at “fun” and then again at “room.”

  The girl grabbed my hands. She led me all the way across the beach to this motel in the middle of nowhere and went, “So what’s your name?”

  Travis. What’s yours?

  “My name is Autumn,” she said. “Autumn Hayes.”

  Travis Wayne

  31.

  LAURA AND I GO OUT to eat at this italian restaurant downtown a couple of nights later. When we’re finished, she hooks an arm through mine and says, “Let’s not go to a bar for drinks.”

  What do you want to do instead?

  “Let’s go somewhere more personal.”

  Your house?

  “No,” she smiles. “Let’s get a bottle and go to Rawson Park.”

  Shit, I haven’t thought about that place for a few years.

  “Let’s go, then,” she begs. “We can sit at the tables and drink like we used to before we got fakes.”

  So the two of us get a bottle of Beam and a bottle of Coke from the liquor store across the street and drive.

  Rawson Park is very small and very modest compared to most of the other parks in the city, especially some of the “mega” ones that have been built recently by some of the downtown businesses. It has a small patch of cement for a basketball court, a tennis court with no net, a small brick building used for bathrooms, a swing set with only two actual swings, and a fairly large rectangular sandbox fully equipped with a lopsided merry-go-round, and the tornado slide where I took Laura’s virginity on her fifteenth birthday.

  We get to the park a little after ten. No one else is there. Posted near the small road entrance of the park is a large sign that says AS OF 9/01/06, THIS LAND WILL BECOME THE PROPERTY OF WAYNE REALTY.

  “When the hell did your dad buy this?” Laura snaps, letting go of my hand.

  I don’t know. I didn’t even know he had.

  “What do you think he’s going to do with it, Travis?”

  He’s probably going to tear it up and build some condos or something.

  “Well, you can’t let him. This place is special to me. It has history.”

  What do you want me to do about it?

  “Talk to him.”

  I start laughing.

  Laura, my father drove me to the middle of nowhere last week, during one of the hottest days ever, and left me stranded there. I mean, do you really think he’s going to listen to me right now?

  She pulls a cigarette from her purse and lights it. “You won’t even try.”

  No, I won’t. Did you even hear me? My father doesn’t give a shit about sentimentality unless it’s me being third generation at USC and following his every move.

  Laura blows a cloud of smoke out. She looks annoyed. “You’re being a fucking jerk,” she says. “You’re acting just like your father.”

  And you’re acting like Winnie Cooper during that episode of The Wonder Years when their neighborhood park is about to be destroyed.

  “So?” Laura says, holding her arms wide. “What’s wrong with that? This is sad.”

  Do you wanna split? We can go somewhere else.

  “No,” she says. “If the park is going to be destroyed we should hang out here tonight.”

  Laura tosses her smoke and grabs my hand again. The two of us walk down the narrow, weed-filled sidewalk, and stop at the lone picnic table.

  It’s hard to see. There’s only a sliver’s worth of moonlight, so I walk to the light pole and open the circuit box and pull the generator lever down.

  Very slowly, the yellowish glow of the bulb begins to flicker more and m
ore and more until it flickers all the way on.

  Laura claps her hands and cheers, and even though it feels completely cheesy, it makes me smile. It feels good to smile from something other than one of Michael’s stories or jokes. I haven’t smiled and really meant it in a long time and being with Laura at the park means everything right now.

  I walk back to the table and sit down with her on the tabletop. She passes me the Beam and Coke and I take a few drinks and hand them back to her.

  “Do you remember the last time we were here?” she asks, lighting another smoke.

  I don’t.

  “Me neither” she says. “It has to have been, what, like almost four years ago by now.”

  At least.

  She takes a few drinks and passes me the bottle again.

  “But I do remember the first time we were here together,” she says. “The summer before we started high school.”

  I choke down a pull of Beam.

  So do I. We ran into each other downtown during the Fourth of July, where all the carnival rides were at. You were spending the night at Amanda Doyer’s house and I was staying at Chris’s parents’ with Cliff and Kyle.

  Laura smirks. She’s like, “I had the biggest crush on you, ever since you saw me sneaking that cigarette during study hall. That was also the night we started talking and you told me that you were going to sneak out of Chris’s and walk over to Amanda’s to help me sneak out.”

  I take another drink. Pass the bottle back to Laura, and take a drag of my cigarette and lay my chin against her shoulder.

  I say, And I did it, too. You snuck out with me and we walked here and that was the night we decided to go steady.

  I point at the basketball hoop.

  We kissed for the first time right over there.

  Laura turns to me. “And the second time we ever came to the park . . .” She grins wildly.

  I start laughing.

  The tornado slide night. That was your idea.

  “No it wasn’t.”

  Yes it was.

  “No it wasn’t, Travis. I wanted to go into the bathroom to screw but you said they smelled too bad and that the only place with enough cover was at the top of the slide.”

  Okay. Fine. You’re right. Maybe it was my idea.

  “I’m positive I’m right.”

  We begin kissing and my body gets warm.

  Laura pulls away. “This is nice.”

  I know it.