The First Male

by Lee Hayes

  Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid.

  Simon heard the hiss in his head before he actually saw the black snake crawl out of his mouth and slither swiftly across the floor. Brooke screamed and backed away quickly—frightfully—slamming into the wall and hitting her head before falling onto her back into the bedroom. Using her feet and the palms of her hands, she scurried backward across the floor until she reached the safety of the bed. She leapt up onto it and watched the snake slither across the bathroom floor and disappear into a crack in the corner near the tub.

  “B-B-B-rooke,” Simon said as he lay on the floor gripping his stomach, blood oozing from the corners of his mouth. The thought of a snake in his mouth sent a wave of nausea to his stomach and he shuddered. He raised his head and looked into the bedroom toward Brooke. She was pressed hard against the headboard, her body rigid with fright. A terror greater than anything he had ever seen was carved painfully and deeply into her face. Her eyes bulged and her mouth was agape; her body, melding into the frame of the bed.

  When he called out to her again, she didn’t answer. She couldn’t answer. She had no words. He wanted to go over to her, to caress her and tell her that everything would be all right, but his tongue could not form the lie. Things had drifted so far from all right that he could no longer separate this terrifying supernatural existence from the life he had lived only days ago; they were painfully and forever bound together. Tonight had changed everything. No longer could he deny or rationalize or run from what was right in front of his face.

  Carefully, he pulled himself up from the floor using the sink as his crutch. His knees were still a bit unsteady, and when he looked at himself in the mirror he barely recognized his own image. Sure, it was his face that reflected back in the cool glass, but there was something behind his eyes that remained unfamiliar and unsettling. He stared at his face. His expression was solemn and he watched as both of his eyes turned black, like pools of sticky tar. He closed his eyes and when he opened them they had returned to their natural color; but his eyes weren’t the only things that had changed in those few seconds.

  He no longer felt nauseous. Or scared. He felt powerful.

  CHAPTER 15

  Franklin looked at the clock on his nightstand when he heard the anxious pounding against his front door. It was 3:33 in the morning, and he was dog-tired after a long night at The Black Cat. He hadn’t performed, but he had partied like it was the last Mardi Gras.

  The pounding continued, growing in intensity. “Go away!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. Seconds earlier, he had rolled over and covered his head with a pillow when he heard the doorbell ring frantically several times in a row, presuming it to be some dope fiend in need of a fix who mistook his door for the door of the dealer two apartments down. Usually when it happened, the crackhead would stop after a few moments; probably out of fear that the door would swing open and they’d get pistol-whipped. Franklin had seen it happen once before. The resident drug dealer had a short temper and was known to pound a person to a pulp without much provocation.

  Franklin sat up in bed and continued to listen to the noise. The pounding sounded like a police battering ram that was about to break his door down. He had seen that happen, too, but he could tell that this pounding was different. The thumping this time wasn’t random; it was purposeful and desperate.

  He finally leapt out of bed and moved quickly down the narrow corridor that led to the front door, stubbing his left big toe against the end of the dresser on his way out of the room. He let out a yelp and bounced off the wall but continued down the dark hallway, hobbling his way toward the door. He was naked except for a pair of boxers that hung loosely over his slim hips and bony legs, not having time or even caring enough to throw on a shirt. His underdeveloped chest was tattooed with a crucifix on his left pectoral and the phrase “music man” was written in cursive on his right. A black bar with a gold ball on each end ran through his nipple, directly below the phrase.

  “Franklin! Franklin!” The thudding continued, destined to alert neighbors.

  “Simon?” Franklin said, recognizing the voice, even though it sounded gruff. He looked through the peephole and began un-latching the locks on the door. When the door finally opened, Simon quickly pushed past him and burst into the darkened apartment.

  “What the fuck?” Franklin said, as he closed and locked the door. Simon had already moved into the living room and was pacing back and forth, mumbling to himself.

  The apartment was covered in darkness, except for a sliver of light escaping from underneath the bathroom door. Silver moonlight spilled into the room through the thin curtains that hung across the big window behind the television set. Simon was disheveled, as if he hadn’t slept in days. The bags under his eyes were heavy and his clothes were wrinkled. He wore a path in the carpet between the coffee table and the makeshift dining room set with the mismatched chairs.

  “I gotta go. I gotta get out of here. I gotta go.” He spoke quickly, as if he were running out of breath.

  “Simon,” Franklin said, as he flicked the switch and turned on the light, “dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

  Simon looked at Franklin, stone-faced. “I need your car. I gotta go.”

  “What? You need my car? Are you crazy, bustin’ up in here in the middle of the night asking fo’ my car. I could’ve had a little freak up in here. You can’t be bustin’ in like that.” Franklin’s voice was irritable.

  “I. Need. Your. Car.” Simon spoke deliberately, clearly enunciating his words so that there would be no confusion.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  “I gotta go.”

  “Go where?”

  “Just go.”

  Franklin stepped closer to him and grabbed his arms, trying to get Simon to settle down.

  “What are you talking about? What’s wrong?”

  “I gotta find Addie. Yeah, Addie. I gotta find her.”

  “Who the fuck is Addie?”

  Simon looked at him as if he couldn’t believe he didn’t know who Addie was.

  “She’s . . . she’s . . . she got answers. Answers to the snakes. She knows about the shadows.”

  Franklin looked into Simon’s wild eyes. “Fool, are you high? You been smoking?”

  Simon looked at him and spoke in a lucid tone. “You know I don’t smoke, Frank. I need to go.”

  “You ain’t makin’ no sense.”

  “I been seeing things. Hearing things. Shadows. Snakes. Ghosts. I can do things. I can feel things. I can fly.”

  “Okay, if you think you can fly, you must be high as a kite. I don’t know what you took, but you need to sit down for a minute. What did you take?”

  “I didn’t take anything. No drugs. No drugs in my body. Only snakes. Only snakes in my body. I vomited one earlier. Ask Brooke. She’ll tell you.”

  “Did you do something to Brooke?” he asked, his voice shaded with concern.

  “Brooke is fine. I can’t be around her, though. Not until I figure out what I am. Addie knows. I gotta find Addie.”

  “Simon, take a seat. Let me get you some water. You’re kinda freakin’ me out.”

  Simon looked at Franklin oddly, but didn’t protest. He plopped down hard on the sofa and continued mumbling to himself. Franklin quickly moved into the kitchen, grabbed a glass, tossed in a few ice cubes, and turned on the tap, waiting for the glass to fill.

  From the kitchen he could hear and see Simon, who now was rummaging through a pile of CDs Franklin had stacked on the coffee table. He was in the process of converting much of his music to digital files and the discs on the table were organized by genre: blues, jazz, zydeco, pop, R&B, country, classical. In order to be a good musician, he believed that he needed to listen to all kinds of music and his apartment reflected that philosophy.

  Franklin returned from the kitchen and handed Simon a glass of water, which he greedily drank. He sank down into the sofa and breathed heavily. Franklin didn’t want to force a conv
ersation, so he let Simon rest, hoping that whatever he took would tire him out and Simon would simply go to sleep. Then, when they woke in a few hours, they’d have a good laugh about it and be done with it.

  When Franklin woke up and quickly looked around the room, Simon wasn’t on the couch. He looked at the clock on the DVD player underneath the television. It read: 7:18.

  “Simon?” he called out as he got up and moved through the house. He walked down the hallway and the bathroom door opened and Simon stepped out, wearing a towel around his waist. Franklin felt the heat from the shower as soon as the door opened, and he was relieved when he saw the Simon that he had come to know and love. Gone was the wild man who burst into his house last night.

  “Hey,” Franklin said. “How you feelin’?”

  “Better. Much better.” They stood in silence for a few awkward seconds, each one waiting for the other one to say something that would make everything all right.

  “So . . . ” Franklin began.

  “Listen, Frank. About last night. I didn’t mean to show up and dump my issues in your lap—”

  “It’s cool. Don’t sweat it. We’re friends—that’s what friends do. Although, I don’t know what the hell your issue is. You weren’t making any sense last night, at all. You were talking about snakes and shadows and somebody named Addie.”

  Simon inhaled. “I know. None of it makes sense.”

  “None of what?”

  Simon stepped out of the doorway of the bathroom and moved down the hallway back into the living room, with Franklin right behind him. He sat on the couch and dried his hair with the small towel draped around his neck.

  “There are some things I’m going through that don’t make sense. Some things I have to figure out, which is why I need your car. I have to go somewhere.”

  “Where?”

  “That’s it. I don’t know. I’ll know it when I get there.” Simon diverted his eyes away from Franklin before he met his gaze.

  “See, that’s the shit I’m talking about—that don’t make no sense.”

  “I told you I can’t explain it, but there are some crazy things going on with me. Things you wouldn’t believe.”

  “You sure you ain’t high? I mean, if you are, it’s cool. You know I smoke weed, no judgment.”

  “Damn, man, would you listen to me? I ain’t on drugs.” Simon leaned in closer to him. “Listen, this is real talk. I’m not on drugs and I ain’t crazy. I need your help, seriously. I really need to borrow your car. I promise I’ll take good care of it. I have some shit to figure out. I won’t be gone long.”

  “How long?”

  “Hmmmm, I honestly don’t know. A few days, maybe. Are you gonna let me borrow it?”

  Franklin sat back and studied Simon’s face before speaking. “Nah, man, I can’t do that,” he said slowly. “You’re in trouble. I’m your friend, and wherever you’re going, I’m going with you.”

  “I can’t let you do that. It could be dangerous.”

  “Look at these muscles,” he said playfully, as he flexed his puny bicep. “I laugh in the face of danger. Ha. Ha. Ha.”

  “You are such a fool.”

  “Me, a fool? Let me tell you about this fool who was banging on my door last night.”

  Simon sat in the passenger seat of Franklin’s gray 2002 Nissan Maxima and pulled the seatbelt across his torso. Once he heard it click in place, he fought the urge to free himself from the restraint and call the whole thing off. What was he doing? He was in a car with his best friend about to embark on a trip with no idea of where they were going. He had some strange notion that Addie would guide him to her, but he wasn’t going to tell Franklin that out of fear that he’d drive him straight to the loony bin. If he was being honest with himself, he had to admit that it all seemed insane. He was searching for a woman who, for all practical purposes, existed only in his mind.

  “So, are we ready?” Franklin asked in a tone that was far too cheery for Simon, given the early hour and the gravity of the situation. Clearly, Franklin didn’t understand the magnitude of their journey.

  “You sure you wanna do this? We could go back in the house.”

  “If you’re going, I’m going. Stop stalling. Tell me which way.” Simon didn’t know which way. He had hoped for some mystical intervention, but none came.

  “What about work?”

  “I’m off today.”

  “I’m not sure we’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “Man, fuck Cisco. I ain’t worried about him. I’ll call in sick and if he wants to fire me, then fine. It ain’t hard getting a job as a cook, you know what I mean?” Franklin strapped himself in and adjusted his rearview mirror. “What about Brooke? She cool with you taking off for only God knows how long?”

  “I hope so. I left her a note.”

  “You sneakin’ off on that girl? I may not be an expert on relationships, but I know women don’t like their men to disappear into the night. She gon’ beat yo’ ass when we get back,” he said playfully.

  “She’ll be fine. I hope.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “At my place. She tried to leave last night, but I told her to go to sleep and she laid down. She was out within seconds, and after the night we had, I can’t say I blame her. She must’ve been exhausted—I know I was.”

  “A’ight. If I know Brooke, she’ll be calling you in a few minutes.”

  “I know.”

  Franklin pulled his charger out of the cup holder in the center console and plugged it into the cigarette lighter before connecting it to his phone. A red dot shone indicating the phone was charging. “So, which way?”

  Simon exhaled. Franklin didn’t have the first damn clue about what was he was getting himself into, but if Simon tried to get him to stay back, he knew Franklin would resist; Simon simply didn’t have the energy to fight. Truth be told, Simon could use his company. If ever he needed a friend, it was now, even if he was concerned about putting Franklin in harm’s way. If he could vomit a snake, read people’s thoughts and emotions, kick a man across the room, and lick a bloody knife—among other things—then there was no telling what he was capable of. There was a growing darkness within him, threatening to overtake him. He could feel it. He was more afraid of himself than of anything they might find on their journey. “Get on I-10 West.”

  “A’ight. Sounds like a plan.” Franklin put the car in reverse and backed out of his parking space. He wasted no time in hitting the city streets. “You know I can’t travel without some music,” he said as he clicked on the radio. “Oh, check this out, it’s my new song,” he said as he shoved a CD into the player. Within minutes, a smooth bass line met the subtle melody of a saxophone. Franklin smiled and bobbed his head up and down, singing out loud, looking at Simon for some approval. “You like?” he asked after a few minutes of his early morning concert. Out of obligation, Simon nodded in approval. He closed his eyes and tried to get more into the song. Franklin’s voice dug deeply into the music, grabbing and unifying all chords with his moving voice. Simon wanted to revel in the song, to lose himself in its majesty; it was extraordinary, but he couldn’t focus.

  They hit the highway and merged with the snarled morning traffic. The sound of blaring horns and screeching tires eventually took its toll on Simon. He could feel the anger and agitation from drivers who simply wanted to move forward, in spite of the fact that the roadway had largely turned into a parking lot. The feeling was overpowering, causing his head to ache. The throbbing grew into a steady pulse that matched the tempo of the beat of the music from the radio. Simon couldn’t take it anymore. He closed his eyes again and inhaled deeply, telling the noise to go away. He had to learn to control what he was feeling and not be overtaken by random emotion—someone else’s emotion or pain. Like with Blaine.

  “You okay?” Franklin asked after a few moments.

  “Yeah, I’m cool. I hate this fucking traffic.”

  “Imagine how I feel. You ain’t the one driving.” Frankl
in suddenly jerked the car to the left, cutting off the driver behind him. His action was met with a loud, aggressive horn that blared right behind them as the driver laid on his horn for several seconds. Franklin looked in his rearview mirror and shot his middle finger in the air. “Fuck you!” he yelled and hit the horn on his car.

  “Please don’t do that,” Simon pleaded. “My head is already killing me.”

  “A’ight, man. My bad. I’ll chill.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “You know, I really appreciate what you’re doing for me. I know this is crazy.”

  “It’s nothing you wouldn’t do for me.”

  “I gotta tell you something, though—something serious.”

  Franklin shot him a concerned look. “What?”

  “I want you to understand how serious this is. This isn’t some kind of buddy road trip where we meet a couple of girls and drink and party and fuck our way through the country. This is me fighting for my life, trying to figure out what’s going on with me. There’s a lot I’ve been going through this past week or so that I haven’t shared with you or Brooke. Some things neither of you would believe,” he said as his tone became more solemn. “Although, after what Brooke saw last night, I’m sure she’d believe it at this point.”

  “What happened last night?”

  “Before I tell you, I need you to try to be open and listen to what I’m saying. I need you to suspend your disbelief.”

  “College boy, what the hell does that mean?”

  “It means I need you to believe whatever I tell you and whatever you see, even if it doesn’t make sense. You may see some crazy shit and think your mind is playing tricks on you. I need you to believe whatever you see, even when it seems unbelievable. Can you do that? Can you trust me like that?”

  “Uhhhh, okay. I can do that, but I want you to know you’re giving me the heebie jeebies.”

  “I know. I’m freaked out, too.”

  “So, we’re both freaked. Fine. Now, what happened with Brooke?”

  Simon looked at Franklin, whose eyes were full of curiosity. He quickly thought of a hundred different ways to say what he needed to tell him; whether to broach the subject gently or to jump right into the conversation, but nothing would change the facts. It happened, and the words he used to tell the story wouldn’t change that or soften the blow. There was no easy way to say it, so Simon spat it out. “I vomited a snake.”