Release Candidate

by Aziz, M.

  ‘You’re right,’ he whispered, ‘it’s best to keep her smiling.’

  Marilyn flicked through channels before an image could animate. ‘I tell you, I’ll explode if they tell us what I don’t want to hear!’ she touched one of his hands and looked at him. ‘I hate having to play happy and clueless around her. It’s only been recently that she’s stopped treating me like a witch!’

  ‘Relax, not too loud! I’m up before the sun now and will knock people over to the letterbox or phone if I have to. But I’m sure all we’ll have to do is just forget about the hours so far. I bet you today was my first and final biggie.’

  Marilyn nodded and returned to the screen. A few minutes silence ensued.

  ‘Do something for me.’ he restarted. ‘Go see Haroon tomorrow. He said he’d pick out something fancy there. I’ll cover it back later.’

  ‘No. I mean, it’ll be my treat.’

  ‘I’m not some bum who needs charity all the time.’ he shook his head.

  ‘Yeah, you’re my bum who needs charity sometimes!’ she laughed and touched his knee. ‘I was racking my brain for something anyway. So that’s that!’

  Estela walked in with two mugs. She cleared her throat. Marilyn quickly took her hand off Tomás to grab her tea. Estela sat on the opposite couch and smiled. Tomás felt his face heat up. Without looking at her he sensed a similar sensation from Marilyn.

  ‘So, what do out there?’

  ‘Not worth talking about.’ replied Tomás. He took a sip of his tea.

  ‘Hmm.’ replied Estela. She looked at Marilyn. ‘You no bring back any more bag?’

  ‘Maybe next time now.’ she smiled.

  Estela seemed to search the air before letting out a false cough. Tomás and Marilyn stayed silent. Estela got up.

  ‘I go in kitchen otherwise your father go bla bla bla when he come.’

  Tomás looked at Estela and nodded with a smile. He resumed unblinking ahead. Estela sighed and shut the door behind her.

  ‘God damn. I feel like I’ve run through a week in the last few hours.’ said Tomás.

  ‘Why don’t you go upstairs? I’ll let you know when the table’s laid.’

  ‘I think I’ll have to. Care to join?’

  ‘I’m too alert in the head. TV will do for me.’

  ‘If you’re sure?’ he stood up.

  ‘I’ll check on you during ad breaks.’

  ‘Don’t. I stopped wearing nappies a long time ago.’ he opened the door. ‘The sandman’s banging at my head. What does your watch say?’

  She lifted her sleeve. ‘Nearly time for the cartoons.’

  Tomás ascended the stairs to their bedroom. He kicked off his shoes and climbed under the duvet. Turning on his side he blinked a few times before losing focus. The darkness unravelled at an undetermined point.

  ‘Fuck you! Fuck you both! This ain’t over! I’m gonna fuckin’ come back an’ fuckin’ pop you both!’

  A trio of officers forced his cuffed hands outside. A tall brown-haired woman with horn-rimmed glasses screamed back at him. He turned around. She picked up a cotton reel and threw it. It just missed him. Her fingernails showed traces of blood. A shorter man with grey hair gripped her shoulder tight. His lip was cut and he breathed heavily.

  When he screamed loudly the two girls in front looked at each other then at him. They laughed. The roller coaster sharply tilted right. He gripped the handrail until his knuckles reddened. His body felt light as he swerved down the track.

  Tomás shut his eyes tighter. He felt his heels and head fall deeply to the bed.

  ‘Back chop? Look, all gone.’ said the butcher.

  ‘Give me a pound of that chicken fillet, then.’ said Tomás.

  ‘Yes boss. I’ll go open a new packet from the back.’

  Pitch-varied clanging woke him. He pulled down his forearm to see an officer scraping a baton across the bars.

  He felt his shoulder being shook. His eyes opened wide.

  ‘You did go out like a light, then, I see.’ said Marilyn. She patted his hair. ‘I came up half an hour ago but you were like a rock. Your dad said you should come down when you felt like it, but I’m not so sure of that.’

  He sat up. ‘Man, I feel like it. I was a couple of shades away from shitting myself!’

  She touched his forehead. ‘Well, you’re cool at least.’

  ‘Yeah, but I dreamt I woke up in a slammer first.’

  ‘Now you’re not thinking it’s...’

  ‘Get real.’ he interrupted. ‘I may be delusional but I’m not dumb.’ his stomach whined.

  Marilyn nodded.

  He put his shoes on and followed her downstairs. Awaiting him were slightly burnt-crust slices of home-made pizza and a can of coke. Gus emerged beside him. He looked up as Tomás tucked in.

  ‘Good. You look yellow before.’ said Estela.

  ‘Mmm.’ he sucked his fingers, took a sip and munched some more.

  ‘Ah, manner!’ she tutted.

  ‘Sowwy, Mum.’

  ‘You go,’ said Marilyn, ‘I’ll do this pig’s plates.’

  ‘Pig?’ Estela giggled. Gus followed her out.

  ‘Oh my God, Tomás, slow down! You’re really going to need an antacid now.’

  Tomás picked up his last slice. He quickly drowned it with the last of his drink.

  ‘All done?’ she asked.

  Tomás pounded a fist to his chest and nodded. He flashed her a wink before heading to the living room. Alberto was sitting next to Estela. Majestic, sad Chinese classical harp stirred the room like a spoon through froth.

  ‘Son, this is amazing, isn’t it? A friend copied me this.’ said Alberto. ‘Headache pills cannot beat sounds like this. I am glad you used your legs today, my boy. But you have to not use them too much yet. You understand?’

  Nodding, he sat down on the opposite couch. His eyes were drawn to the speakers throbbing a very low bass line. Marilyn came in shortly after and sat beside him.

  ‘You no stay up long! Your both eyes is like vampire.’

  Marilyn nodded.

  ‘It’s definitely much better than all the chart crap now, Dad.’ said Tomás. ‘You’ll have to lend me your memory key.’

  The total time on the Hi-Fi counter reached 74:29 before resetting. The plugged memory key blinked itself off. An hour of TV watching, right down to the last rolling credit of a soap opera, ensued before they all re-entered the kitchen.

  ‘Tablet is okay bit early? It messes pattern, no?’ she half-turned the bottle cap.

  ‘Doubt it.’ replied Tomás.

  ‘Ah, okay.’ she filled the kettle with a rapid stream of water. ‘Toast?’

  ‘No thanks, Mum. My jaw’s finished for the day. I was about to nod off back in front of the speakers.’

  ‘And me.’ said Marilyn. ‘Just half a cup for me as well.’

  Alberto poured some cereal. ‘See, I told you. The radio isn’t like it once was. You would hear stuff like this on some, just some, stations when I was young. She, my friend, said the harp player has done many other things with musicians all over the world.’

  A few minutes later the kettle clicked. Estela soon placed a pill and mug before Tomás. He swallowed and took a sip. Once the mug steam subsided he rapidly downed the rest.

  After giving Alberto a pat on the shoulder and kissing his mother on the cheek he went up. Marilyn followed a few moments later. She stood in the corridor listening to the boiler click and hiss as it conducted muffled water to the bathroom and kitchen below.

  Tomás exited, Marilyn entered. In the bedroom he removed his clothes and got into bed. He turned on his side, shutting his eyes tight.

  The decay sound of the toilet flush briefly increased in clarity as Marilyn walked in. He felt her cool washed hand touch and squeeze one of his bare arms paper-clipped over the duvet. He didn’t stir. The sound of clothes being changed was followed by the rebound of the mattress. An echoing click from her direction strengthened the darkness in his shut eyes.


  7

  The whites of Tomás’s eyes shone. He sat up, breathing heavily. A film of sweat lined his forehead. Beside him Marilyn was asleep on one of her arms. He ran a hand down his face. His palm felt dewy.

  Slowly getting up, he tiptoed around to her side. He glanced at her for several seconds. Turning around, the cupboard mirror flashed his dark reflection. Framed in half-silhouette his reflection’s eyelashes fluttered in response as he turned his head and wiggled fingers. After looking once more at Marilyn he slowly slid the mirror aside. He carefully removed his clothes off the hangers and got dressed. It then took what seemed a full minute to open and close the bedroom door without a sound.

  He allowed each step down time to soak his weight to minimise creaking. He paused before the living room door to look back. Nothing.

  Creeping inside, he rummaged his mother’s purse on the bookshelf for a note and some coins. Upon reaching the front door he slowly opened and closed the locks. On the doormat he breathed out smoke into the cold air. The lamppost guided his way left of the street. Looking back he saw no windows light up.

  He whispered an address over and over to himself as he headed towards a bus stop just opposite the Tube station. The bus shelter was empty. Tomás glanced at the bus route display. He sat on a shelter seat and looked down the quiet road.

  Several minutes later he saw a hunk of red in the distance grow in size. He stood up as it slowly rolled in. The middle doors opened outward to let out a teenage couple. Tomás stepped on and handed the driver a note.

  The bus promptly moved. The imbalance forced him to tug to the back via the yellow bars to one of the many free seats.

  To his left a grey-suited man scrolled through songs on a tablet. Near the back window a young black girl in a black leather coat hovered fingers over her mobile phone. The bus hummed through flashing lollipop amber lights of a zebra crossing. Tomás folded his arms and pressed his head against the window. Few people walked the scarcely lit streets. His breath gradually misted a portion of the view. The bus whir rattled his forehead against the glass.

  It got darker outside when his eyelids started to droop. Passing a certain street made him slam the red button before him as if it were a venomous bug.

  The stop after the one he wanted was announced by a robotic female voice.

  Tomás got up and wobbled towards the exit. The bus soon shook as it stopped. He exited and proceeded to walk back towards the street he saw and down it. A neighbourhood of light-blue flats with windows lit or off in the fashion of a disordered Rubik’s cube guided his way.

  At the penultimate block he looked up at the topmost unlit window then either side of the street. He pulled the squeaky brown gate leading to a chipped brown door intercom entrance. The silver button panel had a black speaker grill. He slowly pressed a faded button until it sunk in its socket. Through the immediate cross-hatched window he saw a flight of stairs. After several seconds he released the button. A minute later he repeatedly pressed it in an unintelligible Morse code pattern. His second-last buzz distorted as the grill activated.

  ‘Whoever you are stick your finger somewhere else!’ said the loud male voice.

  Tomás cleared his throat. ‘Alexander?’ he made his voice deeper. ‘Alejandro?’

  ‘Well done, you can use a directory!’

  ‘Let me up. It’s urgent.’

  ‘You royalty or something?’

  ‘Please,’ he breathed in, ‘I’m not here to sell anything.’

  ‘I’m not in the mood for playing games either.’

  ‘It’s about your son.’

  ‘I don’t have one.’

  ‘Whatever. Buzz me in.’

  ‘I click off to strangers.’

  ‘I’m Mr Gabino.’

  ‘Did you hang out with that bastard or something?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You better not be shitting me!’

  ‘I’m not an aggressive person.’

  The grill turned silent. He pushed the buzzing door. Locks echoed as he ascended. Covering his face with a palm he climbed two flights. A bronze chain lock kept the man’s door slightly ajar and taut. Half of a grey-haired man in a nightgown squinted through the gap. His arm gripped the door handle tight. Tomás walked right up to him. He removed the palm from his face.

  ‘It’s not what you think.’ said Tomás.

  The man froze. His eyes widened. The door slammed shut.

  ‘Forget the face!’ Tomás shouted. He banged the door.

  ‘Security there on strike or something? I’ll get ‘em back on you right now!’

  ‘No. Don’t! Take a better look at me.’

  ‘You dropped the soap too many times and you like dressing up now, huh?’

  ‘Please, leave the phone. I’ve got nothing on me. You can come out with something sharp, if you want.’

  The door re-opened, rebounding on the chain lock.

  ‘Do you think I’m nuts or something?’ he raised a mobile phone.

  ‘Alejandro, they told you your son seriously injured himself, right?’

  ‘Right. Because it seems the lazy shits dropped a bunch of keys and cooked up some crap. You crossed the line too far, you bastard! If I come out and pulp you now, they can’t do shit. You’re supposed to be in a box!’

  ‘Feel free but first hear me out. They didn’t tell you the truth. Pascual didn’t do anything to himself. They kind of messed with him.’

  Alejandro undid the chain and walked out. Tomás felt his intake of air decrease as he was pushed to his knees.

  ‘Please,’ Tomás gargled, ‘if I was him, I would not... fucking... t-ake this!’

  Behind them a tall woman with horn-rimmed spectacles and a nightgown stepped forward.

  ‘It can’t be? Pascual? Pascual! Papa stop it!’ she screamed.

  ‘What? After what this bastard did to you? I’m going to finish this scum here now. Just watch, Esther!’

  Tomás’s knees squeaked against the floor as he tried to get up. Alejandro’s face and hands bulged red as he continued squeezing his neck.

  ‘Papa! Let him go! He’s not doing anything!’

  Alejandro relaxed his grip. Tomás’s hands fell to the floor. He coughed loudly. Alejandro stood back, trembling.

  ‘Come on, spit it out!’ Alejandro breathed out.

  ‘Here for help.’ he massaged his neck. ‘I repeat, I’m not who you think I am. I can’t talk out here. Hand me in but please listen first. I’ve had a few dreams and, well...’

  Alejandro eyed Esther. She scrunched her nightgown collars. Tomás allowed himself to be dragged in by the shoulder with a powerful grip. Dumped on a faded maroon armchair, he looked around the room. A photo of a young boy hugged from behind by a black-haired Alejandro hung on a wall.

  ‘Hurry up then fuck off. I’ll leave the animals to take care of you. Because, damn, there’s lots of them out there running round! You must’ve cracked your skull or grown bigger balls to show your face!’

  Tomás slowly rolled his eyes shut. He opened and shut them again. A thwack and a stinging cheek followed.

  ‘This ain’t no junkie bed!’

  Tomás opened his eyes. He pinched stubble on his head a few times, wincing. He looked at Esther whose tearful eyes had a hint of happiness. She was quivering.

  ‘I’m Tomás.’

  ‘Stop it, you cunt!’ Alejandro raised a fist.

  ‘I’ve not finished.’

  Esther nodded at Alejandro.

  Tomás briefly explained his story.

  Alejandro laughed. ‘Am I hearing this? Bring on the funny farm!’

  ‘Laugh if you want. I wish me here was your imagination. But I’m here because I’ve not been all myself lately. I’m not being funny. There’s things inside me that are not mine, but they’re only half-formed. I didn’t use a phone book to get here. What I’m saying is while I have this burden I can’t just play happy at home. I hope it’s just a passing feeling but I came here to clear it all out.’

 
; Alejandro laughed louder. Esther walked forward and looked Tomás in the eyes.

  ‘Maybe you have lost it. Maybe you’re not lying.’ she said. ‘But the Pascual I know never used words like you.’

  ‘They probably have fucking English classes in there.’ said Alejandro.

  ‘I can’t do anything to show you I’m him in body only.’ Tomás slapped his forehead. ‘I’m not sure why you should know, but there’s a part of this lingering side that’s sensitive. Remorseful. It doesn’t have a voice, though. I think I, well him, might’ve had issues with you?’

  ‘Issues? That bastard spilled blood! Lots of it! Started off just by finding burnt tin foil and powder in the bathroom then he went rapid from there. Other fucking lowlife scum burst in waving their big man toys at her for her purse. And then he himself, my own flesh... What do I mean he? You know it all!’ his neck veins throbbed.

  Esther touched Alejandro’s forearm.

  ‘This all sounds like fantasy.’ she said. ‘But let’s go with it; why come at a silly hour? Why not ring, or just let us be if there is an ounce of humanity in you? Any of you.’

  ‘No number came to mind. Even so, a call wouldn’t have got me here. I admit I’m selfish, okay? Seeing and feeling is the cure I’m after. I have to kill my problems while they’re small.’

  ‘Let’s just run with your make believe,’ Alejandro laughed, ‘why not just go rest in peace? Who are you to take over what was my creation? You’re just as fucked up as who you say you’re not.’

  ‘Desperation, opportunity. An apology from me is worthless. The me that is not Pascual, I mean.’

  Esther squeaked out tears.

  ‘Why are we listening to this fucking bullshit? This is fucked up veins talking! You can see it.’

  ‘The only stuff I’m taking is to help me be one person.’

  ‘So, is there more storytelling half-scum roaming around like you, then?’

  ‘Have you heard of any others?’

  ‘You’re a beast if you’ve possessed this flesh!’ shouted Esther. ‘You’re some beastly thing. Not really this, not really that. Man messes with life and look at what you get. But you’re not the one who should apologise. It’s those hawks that prey on poor people.’