Stone Angels

by Michael Hartigan

  I ignored Shoddy, who was clearly forming an elaborate image in his mind. I scanned the story, barely registering it with my brain. Sentences jumped out:

  Owners of the establishment confirmed the young man had entered the bar with Providence College students. Police believe the young man was also a student at the college . . . at the time of this newspaper’s publication, no identification had been made on the body . . . according to police, the body was found behind the bar near the dumpster early this morning by the bar owner . . . death resulted from blunt trauma to the head . . . the young man is said to have reportedly been engaged in a physical confrontation earlier in the evening, but police would not comment on the ongoing investigation.

  The words hurt to look at, each punctuation delivering shockwaves. I breathed heavier and slouched in the seat trying to hide from Shoddy and the oblivious girls in the front. All the strength sapped from my body and had I not been sitting in a car, I surely would have collapsed.

  Shoddy’s hand steadied my shoulder. I looked at him again, his expression changed. My face was blank as he pulled the paper from my lap and folded it back up, dropping it on the floor of the Explorer. He kicked it under the front seat.

  “Take a nap,” Shoddy said with sympathy in his voice. I closed my eyes but didn’t sleep.

  “Shaw, sleep it off. Take a nap,” he repeated.

  I knew we couldn’t prevent the girls from finding out about the story. I expected them to receive cell phone calls from their friends back on campus within the hour. But the calls never came. Campus was deserted; everyone had left for Spring Break. The news would surely travel but at a snails pace compared to if it had happened when classes were in session.

  Not wanting to watch Shoddy work out the previous night’s events, I pretended to sleep. Maybe I slept and dreamed but what followed felt real.

  The hot sweats and cold chills spiking through my body; the red and blue fireworks exploding in my head; the helicopter view of a chalk outlined body bathed in blood and spotlight and then the spotlight turning on me; it wasn’t a bad dream, it was a bad hallucination.

  I watched myself jump behind the wheel of an old car and try to outrun the spotlight. I jammed down on the pedal, trying to shove my right foot straight through the floorboard. Then I was in my own head, looking in the rearview mirror. Nothing was there. No one was chasing me anymore but I picked up speed anyway. Faster and faster the car sped.

  The speedometer melted off the dashboard. The car hurtled forward. I wasn’t even pressing the gas anymore but the speed increased. The windshield strained against the pressure, shattered and tore away disappearing into blackness. The bumper and doors followed immediately.

  I was pressed back into the seat, the steering wheel wrenched from my grip and that, too, sailed away. And still the car flew on.

  As it broke the sound barrier I heard mumbled streams of a young man’s voice slip by. The rearview mirror, which was affixed to nothing since the windshield was gone, snapped away and fell into my lap. A beautiful redhead girl was standing in the mirror. Did I know her? I turned around to look at her behind the car. She wasn’t there.

  I looked back to the front, through where the windshield used to be. There she was. She was ten yards away. Nine yards. Eight yards.

  I slammed on the break pedal. The car didn’t flinch. She was five yards away. Four yards. The redhead girl didn’t move. Three yards.

  I screamed and jumped up and down on the break pedal. My screams were instantly swept away in the swirling tornado winds, as useless as the break pedal. Two yards.

  I yelled louder, my lungs about to pop. I flailed and stomped the pedal, even tried to punch it. The redhead girl didn’t move. The car didn’t slow. One yard.

  As the car barreled down on her, she smiled. I screamed so violently my teeth vibrated and the whole car shook.

  I blinked and she was there, inches from annihilation. I blinked again and the redhead girl was gone. I blinked once more and it was all gone, replaced by the back of Lindsey’s head and Shoddy shaking my shoulders.

  “Shaw, wake up,” he said with concern in his voice. He slapped my cheek and then wiped my sweat on the seat between us.

  “You’re soaked dude. What the hell.”

  I was bathed in my own perspiration. I was breathing heavy. The skin over my knuckles was stretched like a drum. Bits of my palms were underneath my fingernails.

  Three sets of eyes turned to stare at me. Lindsey even asked if she should pull over.

  I waved them off.

  “I’m fine,” I forced out meekly. “Bad dream.”

  “No shit,” Shoddy said.

  “What the hell did you drink last night?” Emily asked rhetorically, before turning back around and diving back into her magazine. Shoddy went back to reading a book. Lindsey gave me an awkward look through the rearview mirror and then put both eyes back on the road.

  I had to concentrate on slowing my breathing. With every breath the explosions in my chest diminished. I put down the window and felt a rush of cool highway breeze dry out my sweaty air. My body cooled too as I waited for my turn to drive again.

  For the rest of the ride down I looked up into the rearview mirror frequently. Each time I did, Lindsey was watching me. From the angle she was sitting, and the angle I was slouching, only one of her eyes was visible; one clear, deep blue eye keeping watch. It seemed like it was always on me.

  I didn’t sleep again on the ride to Florida, whether I was driving or not. But somewhere at a rest stop in one of the Carolinas I saw Shoddy discreetly throw away the Providence Journal.

  I decided then that drinking heavily for the following week would be a sort of queer requiem for all the ghosts I left in Providence.

  Chapter 32

  Despite the late start we arrived in Florida early. It only took twenty-one hours to reach Orlando instead of our expected twenty-four. Even though we were all exhausted we wanted to make the most out of our short time there. We checked into two rooms at the All Star Movies resort and were directed to the 101 Dalmatians section.

  “We should go right over to Magic Kingdom and go on a few roller coasters,” Emily suggested. “Then go over to Disney Studios for their rollercoaster and the Tower of Terror. Then tonight we can hit up Epcot for the fireworks show. We have these hopper passes that let us go to any park we want.”

  It sounded like a lot to me.

  “I’d rather take a nap,” I said.

  “Me too,” Lindsey agreed. She was at the helm for a large chunk of driving.

  “Come on! We’re here, we have to do stuff!” Emily pleaded.

  “Easy for you to say. You drove for two hours up in Virginia,” I said. “Lindsey, Shoddy and I each drove like ten hours today.”

  “The trip only took twenty-one, Shaw,” Emily corrected.

  “Whatever, you know what I mean,” I said. “What do you wanna do Shoddy?”

  “I’m fine with whatever but I just slugged two Red Bulls. I’m not going to nap right now.”

  “Why don’t you guys go to Magic Kingdom and Shaw and I will meet you at EPCOT in a couple hours. We can drink around the world,” Lindsey said.

  Emily and Shoddy were suspicious.

  “You two are going to nap?” he said.

  “That’s the plan,” I said, knowing what he was suggesting.

  “Sure,” Emily said.

  Lindsey either knew what they were hinting at or feigned understanding pretty well. Emily and Shoddy looked back and forth between Lindsey and I. They smiled at each other and nodded.

  “Alright, meet us at the pub in England in two hours,” Emily said. “You’ve been here before, right Shaw? You can navigate the bus route?”

  “Yeah, I’m good Em. We’ll see you in a couple hours. Say hi to Cinderella for us.”

  “Have fun in Wonderland,” she replied.

  Emily sent a smirk my way and dragged Shoddy down the path, disappearing around a corner next to a massive replica of a cartoon D
almatian.

  Our rooms were on the second floor right next to each other. There was even a door inside that opened into the adjoining rooms.

  Initially, Lindsey and I separated with our luggage into our respective rooms. I was changing my shorts when the adjoining door swung open.

  “Hey, I have no pants on!” I yelled, startled.

  “And? That’s never stopped me before,” Lindsey said. She walked slowly into the room and sat down on my bed right on top of the shorts I was about to put on. I wasn’t sure if she was seducing me or deliberately putting me in a vulnerable position of weakness.

  “So do you really want to take a nap?” I asked. “Or was that all a very poor ploy to get rid of them?”

  She was looking at the floor and didn’t answer right away.

  “Linds?”

  “What are we doing here, Shaw?”

  “Here? We’re stopping for the night so we don’t drive off the road into an alligator swamp.”

  “No, stupid. You and me. What are we doing here?”

  Leave it to a twenty-one year old Psychology major to bring up a deeply emotional and complex relationship conversation at the start of Spring Break.

  When I didn’t answer she looked up at me, her lip quivering like a teenager in the final moments of virginity.

  Followed by the crying.

  “I can’t do this anymore, Shaw,” she said through a sweeping curtain of tears. “I need more from you than just drunken hookups.”

  “We aren’t always drunk!”

  Wrong response, Shaw.

  “You asshole. After everything we’ve been through you can’t give me a straight answer.”

  “What do you want from me, Linds? What do you want me to do, define our relationship? Go out and announce it to the world? Want me to climb to the top of the Tower of Terror and yell it out?”

  “Don’t patronize me. You owe me more than that,” she sniffed back tears. I reached over to wipe them from her face and she brushed my hand away. “This is never going to work because of her.”

  “Who?”

  “You know who. The girl you were in love with, before, you know . . .” she trailed off, probably remembering the worst night of both our lives.

  “Come on Lindsey, don’t do this now,” I pleaded.

  “Why not, Shaw? What difference does it make? Shoddy and Emily already know, they aren’t blind. And don’t think it hasn’t been awkward with the four of us. Maybe you don’t feel it but I sure do. Shoddy looks at me like the enemy now. Emily thinks the same way about you. She thinks I’m a fool for falling for you. Like all I am is some kind of replacement girl.”

  She wasn’t crying anymore. Her eyes were still seeping. Those beautiful blue pools were overflowing and spilling down over her high cheekbones. But it wasn’t crying. She was in complete control, speaking with purpose and clarity.

  “So you need to tell me, Shaw. Am I going to risk my friendship with them and continue what we’ve started? Or am I going to lose my best friend, am I going to lose you, because you can’t move on with your life?”

  “I want to make it work, Linds, really I do. There are just a lot of things going on that you wouldn’t understand.”

  “Try me.”

  I hesitated. I looked around the room, trying to buy time I knew wasn’t for sale.

  “Does this have anything to do with what happened at Primal the night before we left?”

  She caught me off guard but damn she knew me well. I don’t know what nonverbal communication I exhibited the past twenty-four hours, but she read it loud and clear. My mouth was closed but I pressed my lips tighter together in defiance.

  “Fine, don’t talk to me. Just like you, Shaw. Things get complicated and tough and you just run and hide.”

  If she only knew how wrong she was.

  “I bet you’d tell Lily. How bout we jump in the car and drive up to Connecticut, swing by and see her?”

  It was a low blow and she knew it. She immediately regretted it and hurried an apology.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. You shouldn’t have anyone telling you what to do about all that.”

  “No,” I said in almost a whisper. I looked down at my feet. “It’s alright Lindsey.”

  It was true that the loss of Lily—Lindsey’s good friend—changed everything.

  “I’m over all that,” I said and looked up into her glistening, wet blue eyes. I said it hoping to elicit a specific reaction from her. Lindsey knew me better than anyone. The flip side being I knew her in the same way. I got what I was looking for.

  “No. No I understand, Shaw. Too soon is too soon. I can only pretend to know how hard it was for you.”

  “What do you want me to do about all this, Linds?”

  “I should be asking you that. Look, I meant what I said. I can’t keep going on and on like this. But for now, let’s just get through this trip, through this week and then we’ll sit down and talk.”

  That was easier than I anticipated.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure. But you have to promise me you won’t flake out again.”

  “I promise.”

  She tugged at my arm, pulling me, still not wearing pants, down onto the edge of the bed. With me sitting, she stood up and took a few steps to close and lock the interconnecting door.

  “You have both of your room keys, right?” she asked as she unbuttoned her tight pink polo shirt.

  “Yes. I never gave Shoddy his key.”

  “Good,” she was standing above me. “We don’t want any surprise interruptions.”

  She pulled her shirt off and tussled her own long blonde hair. There was something else in her big blue eyes. No longer watery desperation but hunger. She pushed my chest so that I fell back onto the bed, my legs still hanging over the edge. She crawled on top and knelt straddling my torso. She took my right hand and placed it on her back, right at her bra clasp.

  We were late making it to the pub in England that afternoon. Emily and Shoddy must have anticipated our tardiness because a half hour after our scheduled time they too had not yet showed up. When we finally met up they were giggling and pointing at us a little too obviously. We dove right into a few pints before moving on to margaritas in Mexico and some sudsy brew in Germany. We spent the night watching fireworks and eating overpriced concession treats and when we got back to the Dalmatian hotel Shoddy and I went to our room, Emily and Lindsey to theirs. The interconnecting doors between our rooms stayed shut.

  Chapter 33

  The next morning, Monday, we took off for Key West earlier than planned. The ride was quiet and the scenery of southern Florida was less than impressive, until we reached the three-hour stretch over the ocean through the Florida Keys. They all voted that I should drive, citing that I was the best driver in the group. I knew it was because the two-lane highway spanning miles of open water was quite intimidating. I relished the opportunity I was given to focus on the road without interruption.

  The girls nervously gazed out at the blue span of water, little white boats dotting the horizon. Barely anything was said, which was fine with me. I was too busy reliving the previous afternoon’s delight with Lindsey. I didn’t feel one hundred percent comfortable with what we did, considering the conversation she attempted to have prior to. Did I take advantage of her weakness, again? We were both so hungry for the carnal connection. I justified it that way. If we didn’t unscrew the sexual valves, the tension in the group would’ve been unbearable.

  As it was, the group had yet to find our collective frame of mind and establish the unspoken ground-rules of our vacation dynamic. The initial excitement about vacation wore off a few miles outside Providence, followed by hours and hours of schizophrenic emotional waves ranging from happiness and anticipation to jealousy, pettiness and extreme boredom. Perhaps Florida was the cure, the day before just an appetizer.

  Our arrival at The Southernmost Hotel and Resort that afternoon did alter the mood of our group consider
ably. As soon as we stepped out of the Explorer into the mildly humid Conch Republic air, simpatico clicked in. We instantly became a calm, cohesive unit with common goals: to get as much alcohol, food and sexual stimulation as four people could get in a tropical paradise in four days.

  We checked in at the lobby without issue, stored our bags and immediately walked across the street to the tiki bar on the beach.

  After a few margaritas we asked the bartender for advice on where best to begin our journey to inebriation. He suggested a personal favorite, Irish Kevin’s, a tropical Irish pub, if that makes any sense.

  We tipped him generously and walked the two miles down Duval Street, the island’s main drag. Between the quaint cafes and bars sat art galleries featuring local artists’ renditions of island life. And snuck in between the art studios were one-man stands selling hand-rolled cigars. We saw the Key West Lighthouse, the original Jimmy Buffet’s Margaritaville bar and my personal tensions floated away with the live tropical music wafting out of each open door we passed.

  I forgot about the long drive. I forgot about the almost-feud with Lindsey. I forgot about the troubles and chaos of the past year. At one point I even reached out and grabbed Lindsey’s hand. We were walking in front of Emily and Shoddy. She shot an anxious glare my way; worried our friends would notice the public display of affection. I smirked my best “I don’t care” smirk and squeezed. She squeezed back.

  “Awe isn’t that adorable,” a man’s voice said from behind us. I turned to tell Shoddy to shut up but instead saw something unexpected. Shoddy and Emily were there but the comment hadn’t come from either of them. It had come from a tall woman, taller than Shoddy or me, standing at the opening of a bar. She was dressed in a sparkling red sequin ball gown. Her cherry-red hair was swept up in an old-school beehive do and her makeup was too caked on to be classy. Then she spoke again.