Stone Angels

by Michael Hartigan

  I shuffled backwards again, this time half-deliberately hitting that same kid’s elbow, just a little reminder. People passed by and pressed me up against the boney joint and it responded in force. The elbow pressure retreated, thankfully. With the amount of tequila in me, it wouldn’t have taken much to loosen the constraints I placed upon myself that night. Then pain shot up my side from two short jabs into my right kidney. Constraints unlocked.

  I swiveled my head as much as the crowd of people allowed, my angry eyes searching for the kid with the bony arms who was about to get cracked. They landed on Duncan.

  The music pumped louder and the strobe lights came on. Duncan and I stood face to face (or his face to my chin) on the edge of the dance floor. He was waiting for me to confront him.

  The crowd behind me swallowed up Ben. Shoddy and the girls were dancing. Duncan’s friends leaning up against the wall ten feet away weren’t paying attention. Duncan and I were alone in a sea of people, not one person noticing the tension crackling in the minute space between us.

  Duncan and I stared at each other for a few seconds. In that short time, every memory I had that included him boiled up behind my eyes.

  The gap between us started closing even though I couldn’t consciously feel my feet move forward. If looks could kill, the night and both our lives would’ve ended there.

  Duncan spoke first.

  “Happy anniversary.” His voice pierced the music-saturated room and went straight into my ears. It was pure rage, woven around a center of hate.

  I knew what he was talking about. I also knew what I wanted to say but all I could muster in return was a grunt. I was grinding my teeth so hard I think the people around us started dancing to the noise.

  “Maybe you didn’t hear me,” Duncan repeated. “Happy anniversary. A toast is in order. Cheers.”

  He took a drink from his beer bottle; barely moving his arm up due to the lack of space afforded us in the crowd. He just sort of tilted his shoulder at an awkward angle and let the warm domestic lager slide into his mouth’s corner.

  The increasingly bacchanalian throng danced and groped around us. An orgiastic beat pulsed with the crowd, a harmony of music, swirling hips and dripping sweat. To my left, two pretty things sandwiched an underage boy. Three sets of eyes closed, three heads lolled and three crotches swayed together. He placed one hand on the hip in front, one reached over his shoulder to grip the nape behind. A flurry of female hands meticulously picked their way around him. The hedonism reserved for spring break awoke prematurely and was running wild around Primal Bar.

  Duncan and I were oblivious. Two stones trampled on by a herd of satyrs. Revelers bounced and slammed into us from every angle but we did not respond. Neither one of us lifted a finger, indifferent to their intemperance.

  I thought of how I wanted to rub the smug look off Duncan’s face with my knuckles. All of my responsibility, pleasure, contentment and anticipation had diffused, replaced by an expanding fury that saturated my already tequila-lubricated self. I felt like an over-filled balloon.

  Duncan was the pin.

  “What did you give Lily for your anniversary? Flowers would seem appropriate. Lay them right there on her headstone. I hope you sent my regards.”

  Since I was too confined to raise my hands, I lunged headfirst. I kept my eyes open because I wanted to see the blood spatter from his nose and spray over the crowd. Call it some sick sacrifice to the god of wine we all worshipped.

  But while my forehead was en route to Duncan’s face, the sea around us parted to let another vein of foot traffic scuttle past. Duncan shuffled sideways and instead of lambasting his arrogant mug, the top of my head hit something soft, with give. I was nose deep in the cleavage cleft of one of the passing revelers. Even from that angle, I recognized her from a few of my classes. She may have registered my identity, maybe not. But it didn’t matter either way because she squealed and jumped backwards, spilling her lime green drink down my back.

  The icy, sticky liquid did little to cool my boiling rage.

  By the time Ben got to me the vein of foot traffic had closed, Duncan disappeared and the large-breasted sophomore girl from my classes went off to get a new drink. The celebration resumed around us, barely pausing to register the minor disturbance.

  “What the Hell was that?” Ben asked as he dragged me to the bar.

  “Nothing,” I said. “Get me a red bull and vodka, will ya?”

  “I thought you weren’t drinking tonight?”

  “Shut the fuck up and get me a drink.”

  “Whoa. Fine. Looks like he pissed you off as much as you aggravated him.”

  “Who, Duncan?”

  “I saw you too staring at each other, then you head butted that hot chick in the tits. She bumped into him and his beer went everywhere. It was very funny from my vantage point.”

  “How were they?” Shoddy’s voice begged from behind me. He had seen my head falling into a low-cut V-neck tank top overflowing with breasts. “They looked soft. Were they soft? Did you motorboat?”

  I pushed him but said nothing, using my mouth instead to chug the Red Bull and vodka handed to me by the bartender. Before he could walk away, I ordered three shots of Jagermeister and swore off sobriety for the evening. Neither Ben nor Shoddy complained and the shots disappeared instantly, replaced by three more at the insistence of one of my companions.

  Ben and Shoddy helped me loosen up and forget the Duncan encounter. The poison made me forget about the dredged-up past. I drank just enough over the ensuing hour to be content in my own head and erect a thin veil in front of the anger that still lurked in there.

  At one point I told the bartender to bring us a round of house special shots. He mixed peach schnapps, Jagermeister and cranberry juice, plopped them on the bar.

  “What are these?” Ben asked.

  “It’s called a ‘redheaded slut’ shot,” replied the bartender.

  “Sounds terrible,” Ben said.

  “It is,” replied the bartender.

  “Lily woulda thought that name was hilarious,” I blurted. “And appropriate. Let’s drink to her.”

  Shoddy and Ben hesitated and screwed up their faces. They weren’t comfortable with where this was going.

  “Hey, fuck you both,” I said. “It’s been a year since she died. This was her favorite drink. Plus I paid for them, so take the shot.”

  They both shrugged, their reluctance apparently gone. We raised the three shot glasses, clinked them together and said, “cheers.”

  I tried to stop drinking after that shot. Maybe it was the burgeoning specter of Lily or the ever-present nagging of the responsibility I just couldn’t kill with alcohol. Or maybe I had just had enough. No matter what it was, I wanted to stop drinking. That doesn’t mean I did. The rate slowed, though, and I mixed in several glasses of water to stem the tide. Nevertheless my inhibitions dissolved with each, “cheers.”

  Eventually Ben faded into the crowd. Lindsey and Emily appeared and tried to get me to dance. I politely declined and they stole Shoddy while I remained at the bar, watching my three friends shimmy and grind to the pulsing beat. I drank and allowed the alcohol to take the wheel and fill my sails. It navigated my mind past my friends—those gyrating a few feet away and those six feet under. I half reminisced and half surveyed.

  The party pulsed and flowed around me as it had all evening. Everyone was especially drunk and, of course, especially horny. Most of them couldn’t tell you the name of the bar they were at. Most of them couldn’t even tell you the color of the strobe lights. None of them cared.

  In the midst of the organized confusion, and my drunken stupor, those flashes of colored light on the beer soaked floor held my attention. To an inebriated brain, they were much more interesting than the people grinding over it. I watched the lights washing over everyone, dousing the sweaty dancers like a spicy marinade over raw meat. The glistening bodies writhed and swayed almost in unison to the thumpa thumpa thumpa of a heavy baseline.
It was transfixing, like a lava lamp made of Red Bull and vodka.

  Lindsey, tripping in her drunkenness, caught my eye and beckoned for me to join her on the dance floor. I smiled at her and she sent back a seductive grin. I was right about everyone being horny.

  She was sweating in that sexy, female way. The liquid pheromones melted down her neck and trickled over the exposed tops of her breasts. It resulted in an enticing sheen cast over her lightly tanned skin. It was the tempting kind of sweat, the kind that perspires just before and just after passionate sex. She took her eyes off me, closed them and pushed away from whoever’s hips she had been grinding with. Her body slithered in unison with the bass line, her exposed midriff rolling over her hips. The colored lights illuminated parts of her body then hid them in shadow. I was entranced, drunk and on the verge of reclaiming positive feelings.

  Then light violently snapped on and off and on again. Lindsey was there then she was gone, then there again. I thought it was the strobe light until a sound like snapping celery echoed in my ears and all at once pain drowned out all else. Light dimmed, the colors blurred and the back of my head screamed. I stumbled forward and caught myself on a pole in the center of the room, gathered my senses and whirled around to see a small, bony fist hurling towards me.

  I stepped to my left and Duncan’s clenched hand collided with the pole. He screeched and turned his black eyes to me. I lowered my head enough to meet them with my own hazel eyes. Immediately he looked away, gazing back over his shoulder at the two imposing oafs framing him. Duncan’s round body heaved with short, excited breaths while Flask and Regan stood motionless, like granite, but in their faces you could read greed, like pigs waiting for their farmer to empty the slop bucket.

  I spoke first, this time.

  “You missed,” I said, even though the first shot he gave me was still ringing around my ears.

  “Fuck you,” cried Duncan. “We end this now. I’m going to kick your ass like I should have done a long time ago.”

  I don’t know why it caught me off guard, but for some reason I didn’t expect him to be so blunt.

  “You want me to fight you here in the middle of the bar, with these two goons standing guard?” I knew the answer so I straightened up.

  Duncan squealed something I couldn’t make out. When Duncan got excited his voice elevated a few octaves and cracked like a pre-pubescent nerd, straining for an adult tone. The adrenaline coursing through his body wouldn’t allow him to be anything but shrill. Flask bent down and whispered something in his ear.

  “Outside,” Duncan said. “These idiots will stay here. You and I go outside.”

  “I’m done with you,” I said, knowing how painful a rejection would be to Duncan’s ego. I started walking in the direction of the bar but the lingering alcohol in my system forced me to keep talking. I added, “You’re not worth my time. But your little sister might be. Tell her I said congrats on that figure skating title. Or maybe I’ll give her a call and tell her myself.”

  The pain in my head that had started subsiding pulled a sharp U-turn when three bodies lunged and landed on me—two heavy, controlled and overbearing, one frantic and furious. I could do nothing but throw my arms behind my head, flailing, and try to make contact with some flesh and bone.

  I was doubled over, with one large oaf pinning my shoulders almost to my knees and the other oaf helping him. The scuffle cascaded to the people around us and Duncan got partially caught in the chaos. He had enough appendages free to get in some choice shots to my cheek and head.

  The crowd tumbled but seemed to barely notice our fight. The pressure of Flask and Regan forced me down to one knee, my face pushed closer to the rancid floor. Rotten alcohol vapors and dirty feet wafted into my nostrils and I choked back vomit. My throat burned from it.

  I tried to push off and stand but my shoe slipped and slid out from underneath me. I sprawled to the floor, face-first, the two lumbering fools falling with me. Duncan got his footing and stomped like a pro wrestler.

  Feet were everywhere. A few slammed into my face, kidneys and groin as I struggled to stand up. Most, but not all were Duncan’s. People were palpitating and swinging like they got caught in the tide. Duncan’s friends stood up and were swept back away from me by the crowd, while Duncan and I were isolated once more.

  I pushed up to one knee and caught a kick to the shin, sending my spinning back to the floor. I pushed up again to one knee and anticipated Duncan’s move, deflecting his shoe away with my forearm and jumped to my feet.

  There was no hesitation and my fist caught his cheek dead on. He wheeled back in surprise. He obviously thought his goons would protect him, or that I wouldn’t even fight back. I did tell him I was done with him. But I was lying. I wasn’t done with him yet. Not until everyone knew him like I knew him, exposed and fragile, pitiful and manipulative, jealous and fake. Physical violence was the path to the truth; anger and emotion just the means of transportation.

  Duncan was on the ground and I stood above him. I reached down and yanked him to his feet. There may have been fear in him but all I knew was what was in my own body—all the frustration, malice, and emotions I had never dealt with surging into my heart and from my heart into my fist. My whole body thrust into a punch that sent him stumbling towards the door of the Primal Bar.

  Then the bouncers were on us. Reaching in with their vice-like hands, they snatched me up and tossed me easily through the door and onto the sidewalk. Only then did the rest of the club react. The only thing more enticing to drunken kids than more alcohol was a brawl.

  Most of the club spilled out onto the sidewalk and into the street, surrounding Duncan and me. Flask and Regan were at the perimeter of the makeshift human ring. I was at the center of a large semi-circle of shadowy faces. Everything around me darkened except the two large and one small body skulking towards me.

  I wasn’t going to wait to be pummeled. I grabbed Duncan and dragged him towards me, he tried to wrestle away but my left hand clenched his shirt while my right hand beat his face like it was pizza dough. My arm extended, made contact and retracted.

  For a split second it stayed motionless and then extended, made contact and retracted. I wasn’t the only one punching, as other fists collided with my stomach, my kidneys, even my thighs. Flask and Regan paid me in body shots but I didn’t stop hitting Duncan. Extend, contact, and retract. Extend, contact, and retract. Extend, contact, and retract. Every extension was towards Duncan’s nose, every contact with the nose, and every retraction away from the nose.

  Pink liquid sprayed from his nostril and spattered my own face, then liquid began oozing from it, colored a reddish-amber in the streets lights.

  My heart stopped. It was the color of Lily’s hair. Suddenly it wasn’t Duncan anymore. All I could see was Lily and I yelled. I was suddenly terrified and ashamed.

  I let go of Duncan and fell back, knocking Regan and Flask to the ground. I caught myself on a mailbox on the sidewalk edge.

  No more fighting. She would not have wanted this. His blood wouldn’t bring her back.

  It must have been only a few seconds before Flask and Regan were on me again. The furious whacks knocked me back and the vision of Lily vanished, white bursts pulsing behind my eyes instead. I was on my back like an upended turtle. They dragged me away from the mailbox. A fist hit the side of my head. A foot smashed the back of my left knee. Another flurry of punches peppered my torso and what felt like someone’s knee hammered into my shoulder.

  Then it all stopped. I waited for more but none came.

  I slid open my eyes and saw the outline of two smudgy figures looming over me. I lunged.

  Before I could land a punch, one of them spun me around and clutched me in a tight bear hug. The other slapped my cheek, not violently though.

  “Shaw,” Shoddy said, “calm down. It’s me. And Benny. We’re here.” He squeezed my shoulder and nudged me away from the crowd.

  My body slumped in Ben’s arms as the adrenaline leaked
away. They dragged me a few feet down the sidewalk, and I heard the crowd groan in disappointment as their entertainment was taken away.

  We took a hard right around the corner to the side of Primal. Lindsey and Emily leaned against the bar’s dirty brick exterior but instantly jumped when we appeared. They were on me, doting and pawing and wiping what I assume was blood from various spots on my face and shirt. I didn’t have the energy to shoo them away.

  The brawl’s immediate aftermath came and went in a blur. I sat on the sidewalk along the dark side of Primal, which was directly across from a cemetery. I stared into the darkness of the gravesite, trying to regain my focus by looking past the endless headstones. The girls continued to flit and swoon over my bruised face (which was now raising). Their perfume, ignited by elevated body heat, poofed and clouded my senses even more. I choked and coughed at the sweet and sweaty stench sauntering into my nostrils. It stuck somewhere behind my teeth.

  After some amount of time, it could have been a minute or an hour, I coughed and the pain crashed in my chest. The external bruises pulsing said nothing about whatever internal damage was done by Duncan and his clan.

  Shoddy saw me wince.

  “Alright, time to go,” he said to the others. “We better get you girls out of here.”

  He responded to Lindsey’s outcries with disinterest and a flick of his hand.

  “Ben, can you walk Emily and Lindsey home?” Shoddy said. “You know how this neighborhood is.”

  “You sure?” Ben replied. “You two going to be alright?”

  “Yes, we’re fine,” Shoddy said.

  “No problem then,” said Ben. “We shouldn’t be sitting around out here anyway.”

  Ben quickly started ushering the girls up the sidewalk towards the main street.

  “What about you two?” Lindsey yelled back. “I want to stay with Augustine!”

  Shoddy turned his back so as not to see Ben manhandling a screaming Lindsey up to the main road, turn right and continue towards campus. Lindsey struggled and screamed until out of earshot. Emily followed silently. She had a horrified look on her face through the entire ordeal. It was the first and only time I ever saw her legitimately scared.