Cold Summer Nights

by Sean Thomas Fisher

  A few days later, she went into a vegetative state. The last thing Nick ever heard her say was how she just wanted to go home. It broke his heart to see it come to this. All those years raising a family and enjoying a long healthy life, only to end up going out in a blaze of humiliation. He knew she would rather be with his grandpa and couldn’t understand what was making her hang on for so long.

  The white hall seemed to get longer with each step he took. An elderly man in a ragged nightgown approached, a colostomy bag hanging out his left side. He grinned at Nick, revealing holes where teeth had once lived. “You wanna know a secret?” the man whispered as Nick passed by.

  Nick looked away and kept plodding down the wide hallway, coated in years of sterile white paint and desolation.

  “I can turn into a dolphin!” the man yelled after him.

  Nick quickened his pace and the man began making - what he obviously considered to be - dolphin sounds. Although to Nick, it sounded more like squirrel chattering.

  “Take me to the ocean!” the man demanded. “I can prove it!”

  Nick turned into his grandma’s room and stopped just inside the doorway, the sight of his withered grandma making his gut wrench. Just like every time before. Unfortunately, Nick’s mom succumbed to breast cancer two years ago and it had pretty much been left up to him to make the weekly visit. His brother, Matt, always seemed to have swim lessons or soccer practice or another birthday party to whisk Madison off to.

  Nick took a deep breath and forced his legs into action. “Hey grandma,” he said, the smell of urine and feces slapping him even harder in the face as he traipsed closer to her bed.

  He bent over her emaciated body, trying to limit his breathing. “How are you doing?” he asked loudly. Her eyes remained just as closed as her wrinkled mouth. Her usual response to anything he said. He always wondered if she could hear him in there, trapped inside her own failing body, unable to respond in any way. Still alive. Still conscious. He hoped not and brushed stringy, white hair from her sagging face. She needed a haircut. And a bath. He sighed, wishing they could afford better.

  Her lips were sucked into her mouth and wrapped around her gums like a vacuum cleaner was turned on deep down inside her throat. She hadn’t worn her dentures for years and looked twice as old without them. He turned away and began his routine sweep of her things. The few things she had left anyway. It was staggering how much could disappear around here and how quickly. Nothing of real value, but her things just the same. It was hard to tell who was to blame, the crazies or the underpaid nurses.

  He picked up a silver framed picture of him standing between his grandma and his mom. Wide smiles graced their sunlit faces as his grandma leaned on her cane in front of a cluster of tall lilac bushes in her backyard. Must have been ten years ago now. He missed his mom and forlornly set the frame back down on the dresser, filled with dingy hospital gowns, grandma-panties and socks.

  “Your mother says to stay away from her,” floated out in a hoarse voice behind him.

  His heart spiked while the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Slowly, he turned around with wide eyes. His grandma swallowed with her doughy eyelids still sealed shut, the largest sign of life he had seen from her in years. His eyebrows dipped and with heavy legs, he trudged over to her bedside, his face contorting further along the way. “Grandma?” he quivered.

  She didn’t respond.

  He cleared his throat and took a step backwards, expecting her to suddenly rise and start floating after him, just like in his stormy nightmares. But she didn’t. Her skin clung to her unmoving bones like always. He glanced to the doorway just as someone walked past. Grudgingly, he turned back to the lady withering away in the bed in front of him, his blood pumping in his temples. “Grandma?”

  Golden liquid started dripping into the plastic bag hanging on the side of her bed.

  Chapter Five

  Ke$ha’s Blow assaulted the warehouse-sized room. Visible air ducts and metal girders ran the length of the tall ceiling above. The driving beat slipped in and out of the rotating flashes of colored light as young men and women danced like they might rip off their clothing and start screwing on the dance floor at any second. They grinded against each other with the beat, sweat glistening from their skin.

  Nick’s mouth hung open as he stared at Rusty with narrow eyes. “What do you mean you could see your breath?” he shouted over the music.

  Rusty grimaced. “I told you, I don’t know what happened! All I know is it threw my whole game off and I might need you to stick it out till one,” he said, knocking back a Jack and Coke.

  Nick’s face soured in the spinning bursts of bright lights. “What?”

  “I told ya though!” Rusty shouted, nodding to the throbbing dance floor. “Ass-soup!”

  Nick shook his head and took a pull from a bottle of Coor’s Light, the club’s deep bass vibrating every inch of his body. He wondered how the DJ could see anything with shades on in here.

  “It’s barely eleven-thirty!” Rusty said. “And it’s already packed.”

  “Well, you better start pullin some digits before your ride splits in five minutes,” Nick replied coldly.

  “Give me a minute to get into a groove here, Nick. Will ya?” Rusty said, letting his eyes roam free. “I gotta tap into the bar’s vibe.”

  Nick gestured with his beer towards the bar. “What about those two brunettes over there.”

  Rusty followed his gaze and smiled. “Oh, I’d like to tap into that too! Nice spot. What else we got? They’re way outta my league and not near drunk enough yet.” His head bobbed with the music as his eyes drifted across the room.

  Nick watched the animated crowd, primarily made up of bartenders and easy waitresses, who danced like strippers and usually went home with the bartenders after it was all said and done. It was their one night off a week to let loose and they didn’t call it S.I.N. for nothing. He took another drink and decided he didn’t miss this scene. The constant game. Loving it that night, hating it the next morning. He pulled his cell out again and subtly checked the screen. No messages. He exhaled a long breath and slipped the phone back into his pocket, formulating the perfect text to send Summer real quick. Something brief, yet witty. He took another drink and discarded the entire idea altogether, refusing to fall into that trap again.

  “How bout those three in the booth?” he suggested instead, nodding in the opposite direction.

  Rusty followed his gaze and grimaced. “Wow, you really have been out of the game! You know better than to roll up on a three-top, Nicky. The fat one will always end up wanting to go home early and ruin it for everyone.”

  Nick grunted. “Sounds like her and I might have something in common."

  “Go get her then, killer! Your secret’s safe with me.”

  Nick snorted, nonchalantly checking his watch again. When he looked back up his eyes met Amy’s big blue ones, making him regret coming even more. His heart fluttered and things promptly went into a three-drink slow motion.

  With Stacey at her side, they bounced across the flickering room, their boobs doing the majority of the bouncing. Amy stuck her hand up into the air and smiled at them, her trim black leather jacket fitting almost as tightly as Stacey’s red one. Both blonds strutted across the dance floor in high heels, cutting through the crowd with authority and looking like something out of a modern day Warrant video.

  “Sweet Jesus!” Rusty said, pointing with his rocks glass and nudging Nick in the side. “Here comes the gruesome twosome!”

  Nick shifted in his stance and straightened his shirt.

  “And would you get a load of Stacey! I am so going to pull that tonight,” Rusty grinned as the fit blondes closed the gap.

  “Hi guys!” Amy smiled brightly, giving Nick a big bear hug.

  She squeezed tighter than he did, her thick perfume making him wonder if he should burn his outfit later.

  “How are you?” he asked, pushing away as Rusty pulled Stacey closer.


  Amy grinned, the blinking lights reflecting off her teeth. “I’m good. Single again!”

  Nick nodded, glancing over to see Stacey struggling to break free from Rusty’s eagle claws. A smile broke out across Nick’s face as he shook his head.

  Amy stood on her tippy-toes and leaned into his ear. “But I heard you’re not.”

  He frowned and she returned to his ear.

  “Single.”

  He tipped his head back and then shook it. “Not anymore.”

  She puckered her brow and leaned in even closer, brushing his ear with her soft cheek, causing his muscles to tense. “Who is she?”

  Nick shrugged. “Just a girl,” he shouted over the thumping tune.

  She laughed. “Just a girl?”

  Rusty poked his head in between them with an arm still wrapped around Stacey’s waist. “Hey, how good does Stacey look? Did you say hi to Stacey yet, Nick?”

  Nick smiled and waved.

  She stuck her face in close to Nick’s, revealing some serious cleavage and a ton of make- up. “I heard you have a girlfriend, Nicky!” she said, with a laugh that smelled like tequila.

  "Yeah and soon they're gonna need a good priest!" Rusty cackled.

  "Ooh," Stacey cooed. "That serious, huh?"

  Rusty laughed. "That's just to get rid of the flies and glowing pig eyes! His girlfriend is bat shit crazy!”

  Nick frowned. “She’s not crazy, and I don’t see what you’re problem is,” he said, taking a serious tone.

  Rusty’s face stiffened, his drink sloshing in his hand. “My problem, Nick, is that your girlfriend tried to kill me with some kind of Mr. Freeze bullshit today and I don’t appreciate it!”

  Stacey's face wrinkled. "What?"

  Nick looked to Stacey and Amy and laughed. “You hearin this? Guy loses his job and now he’s losin his mind.”

  Rusty stepped closer, almost nose to nose with Nick, who held his ground with a steady smirk. “You just don’t want to hear it, Nick! Just like always!”

  Nick closed the distance between their noses. “Just because you wanna end up all alone doesn’t mean you have to drag me down with you!”

  “Boys!” Amy yelled over the music, pushing in between them.

  Rusty’s face soured. “I never said I wanted to end up all alone!”

  Nick laughed loudly. “I thought you said you were getting a cat!”

  Stacey and Amy turned to Rusty with matching looks of puzzlement gripping their fake-baked faces.

  Rusty pushed past them and grabbed Nick around the back of the neck, pulling him so close, Nick could feel Rusty’s warm whiskey breath on his ear. “All I’m saying is something is off with that girl. Just take tonight to collect your senses and enjoy the company of the lovely Miss Amy,” he said, pulling back and gesturing to Amy who smiled coyly.

  Nick snorted, feeling his face getting red and hoping it blended in with the dance floor lights.

  Stacey carelessly swung a Limon and 7, spilling on the floor between them. “Do you love her?”

  Nick laughed and started coughing into his hand. “We are very much in love,” he said sarcastically.

  "No wonder we never see you anymore," Amy shouted.

  Stacey grinned and brushed long blond hair from her face. "How many times have you sent her flowers?”

  Nick’s face fully flushed and there was no hiding it this time, even in here. He had sent Amy a dozen red roses after she had dumped him for Brad. Twice. It was something this group would never let him forget, even Rusty, who called it one of the top three rookie moves of all time.

  “Only six times, but I have something special lined up for our three month anniversary.” Nick replied, feigning a weak smile.

  Stacey threw her head back and laughed, spilling more of her drink. “Oh Nicky!” she said, just before Rusty swept her back into his arms.

  Amy leaned up to his ear again. “So tell me about this Summer.”

  Nick stared into her blue eyes, wondering what he ever saw in them before. “What do you want to know?”

  “Well,” she started, playing with the straw in her glass. “Where did you meet?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Why?” he asked, taking a drink.

  This time she shrugged. “Just wondering.”

  “Barnes and Noble.”

  “Ooh,” she grinned. “So romantic! It’s like a movie.”

  He laughed, remembering the night he had met Amy on a crowded rooftop bar called Wellman’s Pub. It was one hour before last call and he still managed to drag her back to his place. He turned to Rusty, who was lost in Stacey’s eyes and going on and on about something that seemed very monumental.

  Amy crept back to Nick’s ear. “I miss you.”

  He chuckled and looked down to his brown Adidas, smelling her strong perfume already floating off his shirt and jacket.

  This time she came so close, her lips brushed against his ear, sending a volt of electricity shooting throughout his entire body. “Do you ever think about me?”

  Nick cringed and tried to hide it. “Things have actually been kinda crazy lately.”

  Disappointment washed over her face.

  “My grandma is real sick,” he said, playing up the sympathy card.

  Amy’s eyebrows dropped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” she said, taking the opportunity to hug him again. This time she squeezed tighter and for much longer, nearly turning it into a slow dance.

  He rolled his eyes behind her back. When her hug waned, he tried to lean back but she pulled him close and tenderly kissed him. He tensed, tasting rum on her lips and pushed away.

  Her brow wrinkled. “What’s wrong?”

  “You’ve got the wrong idea,” he yelled, over Usher’s latest hit.

  Her red lips reached his ear again, the smell of her perfume stinging his eyes. “I’ll let you do whatever you want to me,” she said softly.

  He smiled politely. “I’m probably all good, but thanks.”

  She stepped back, hurt glistening across her face which quickly turned to anger. She put a hand on her tiny waist and looked him over from head to toe. “You know what?” she said, wrinkling her nose like he had some bad body odor. “You’re right. I do have the wrong idea. Let’s go Stacey!” she yelled, pulling Stacey from Rusty’s arms.

  There was a brief tug of war between the two but, grudgingly, Rusty gave up and watched them strut away, disappearing into the bouncing crowd on the dance floor.

  Nick smiled and took a long pull of cold beer. After everything she had put him through, he had no idea how good that was going to feel.

  Rusty casually leaned into Nick’s ear. “I should've stuck with Dallas.”

  Nick got home at quarter to one and the first thing he did was check the remote. It worked just fine so he shut the TV off and went into his bedroom. Despite his triumphant turn with Amy, his buzzed thoughts kept returning to his grandma’s eerie warning. Unanswered questions made his head spin. Stay away from whom? Amy? And what the hell did his mother have to do with anything? Had his grandma even spoke to begin with? After all, that would be impossible. She hadn’t uttered a single word in nearly four years. For all he knew, it could’ve just been that old coot babbling incoherent thoughts out in the hallway about his secret identity. But deep down, Nick knew it wasn’t. Either way, the crackly voice replaying in his head gave him the chills as he belly-flopped into bed with his shoes on.

  He rolled over onto his back, feeling guilty about kissing Amy, and kicked his shoes off. They thumped onto the floor, one after the other, as he pulled his phone from his front pocket and checked for any texts or missed calls. He dropped his head back into the pillow and wondered if he should call Summer right now and just come clean about the whole thing. Hell, maybe she wouldn’t even mind coming over tonight after finding out how firmly he had dealt with his ex.

  Before he knew what was happening, his phone was connecting to hers. He took a deep breath and held it, almost hanging up. But it was too late
; he had already left caller ID tracks all over the place. He scrambled to collect his half-drunken thoughts, each ring of her phone making them grow more distorted. He cleared his throat, wondering what he was doing. Her voicemail answered and he hung up before he could dig himself in any deeper. He wasn’t that drunk. Still, he’d have to be ready to explain why he had called so late on a Sunday night. She was probably staring at her caller ID right now with sleepy eyes, shaking her nappy head and wondering what she had gotten herself into.

  Amy stumbled into her apartment and shut the heavy wooden door with an inconsiderate slam. The deadbolt clicked home and she crossed the living room, bathed in parking lot lights slipping in through the sliding glass door that led to a small balcony outside. Her keys jingled into a fancy dish from Pottery Barn resting on top of a slim sofa table with straight edges.

  “He’ll call,” she muttered, unzipping her leather coat and tossing it onto the couch without looking, nearly taking out a lamp. She kicked off her high-heels, going from five feet eight inches to five foot four, and dropped her short black skirt to the carpeting below. Her bare feet stepped out of it and tromped into the kitchen where she whipped back the refrigerator door and grabbed a cold bottle of Miller Lite.

  She popped the top and grinned. “How could he not?” she smiled brazenly, admiring her tan, toned legs in the soft refrigerator light. She took a long drink and sighed with satisfaction. She smacked her lips, shut the fridge door and screamed when she saw a dark figure standing on the other side. It stared holes in her with its cavernous eyes.

  Amy’s breath caught in her throat, paralyzing her entire body. The beer bottle slipped through her fingers, shattering on the parquet flooring around her red painted toes. The shadowy female’s long hair was as lifeless as the face staring back at Amy. It stood there, quietly observing the pretty blond. Horror ransacked Amy’s mind, mixing with the alcohol already coursing through her veins. The combination made it impossible commanding her body to any kind of action other than clumsily backpedalling. The smell of rot and decay wrapped its mushy limbs around her. Without moving a muscle, the silhouette leaned forward and slowly began coming closer. It moved with the greatest of ease, like it was standing on a lazy conveyer belt.