"What happened to you?"
"What? Oh this? just a scratch - some worthless bastard, some disgusting degenerate piece of shit attacked me, and something about the way he performed has convinced me that the prick was impotent, which would explain a lot of the situation actually?"
At this point Paul has grabbed me by the neck and looks like he's about to slug me again. When the plate hits him in the head it just sort of thuds off his skull quietly before it smashes into a thousand pieces on the floor. It digs a deep gash right between those sinister eyes of his, and the blood sort of leaks out slowly at first, just dripping, then the pressure gives and it starts to pour out in a geyser. I get up and run over beside Meredith to avoid getting sprayed. Paul looks at the two of us, holding his head and whimpering like a wounded animal. He turns around and pauses, then says 'fuck the both of you' and walks out, slamming the front door behind him.
Chapter 21
Swirling clouds in my misted skull - like a song that you can't quite remember, but a good one - that you really want to listen too, you know the words - but they just won't come to you. It's funny - the way things just sort of melt away like that - but I guess it happens to pretty much everything, au naturale. You think everything is meant to be, you think that life is fair, until you live it. No one gets married without a prenup these days...
Chapter 22
"Hello?"
"Hey man, its Drillers."
"Sebastian! How the hell are yah? I haven't seen you since Thanksgiving! How is everything back home?"
"Not great man, just had a pretty disturbing call from one of my best customers" -pause - "you know who I'm talking about?"
"No?"
"Septum."
"Septum?"
"Yeah, he called me."
"Well, what the fuck does that have to do with me, man?"
"I've been selling him guns Charlie, guns and lots of cocaine."
"Where the fuck are you getting guns anyways?"
"That doesn't matter Charlie boy. This guy in Ottawa has been buying up a shitload of weapons man, and a shitload of coke. He's a scary dude man, not someone you should be fucking around with. I even sold this guy a couple hand grenades."
"I haven't been fucking around with him?"
"He said you've been snooping around, said you came out to his place one night like a complete fucking maniac - then ran out of there screaming - I mean the guy is a fucking drug dealer Charlie boy, you're lucky you didn't get shot."
"Bullshit."
"He thinks you're a cop man."
"Me, a fucking cop? You know me Sebastian, get real man. Fuck that guy anyways dude, you shouldn't be dealing with a guy like that, he's shady - real fucking shady. Like I don't know how to explain this to you but?"
"But what?"
"Never-mind,"
"Alright, well stay the fuck away from Septum, 'cause he said the next time he sees you he's gonna slit your throat."
"What is all this, man?"
"I have to go."
"Sebastian, wait?'
Click.
"Hello?"
"Charles."
"Yes dear?"
"Where are you?"
"I'm at home."
"No you're not."
"Yes, I certainly am my sweetest of babies."
"I'm standing in your disgusting apartment right now you idiot, and if you were here I'd definitely be able to see you, wouldn't I Charles? Because you waited until the last possible second to find a place, which is why you live in this shithole and I can never come over."
"Tragic, I know."
"So where the fuck are you then? A bar?"
"Of course not, to think that I would ever bail on my plans with you to go drink a gloriously golden and frothing beer that's fresh from the tap and served in an ice-cold glass?"
"We're done."
"Done?"
"Yes."
"Finally."
Click.
"Hello?"
"-----"
"Hello?"
"---ah-"
"Who the fuck is this?"
"----uhhhh"
"Listen man, or whoever, stop calling me or else-" "Or else what you pathetic fuck?"
"Who is this?"
"You're a fucking dead man."
Click.
"Hello?"
"Hi Charles."
"Mom, what's going on? You didn't let that bastard back in the house did you?"
"No, he's not coming back."
"Good."
"------"
"Good, isn't it?"
"I guess so."
"You guess so? For Christ's sake mom, he was a complete asshole."
"He was cheating on me."
"What?"
"He's been cheating on me."
"And how do you know that Meredith?"
"Jesus Charles, do you think it's hard to find something like that out, especially these days? I mean he didn't even bother trying to hide the fucking text messages, or the emails, or the smell of cheap perfume -"
"Please, just stop."
"Are you okay with all of this?"
"I don't know."
"Me neither."
"Does Alice know?"
"Not yet. She's dealing with enough as it is, I'm sure?"
"Well, what's next?"
"I'm going to visit nana. I think maybe we all just need a break. You can stay at the house if you want - he won't be there."
"Okay."
"Bye Charles."
Click.
"Hello?"
"Yo man, it's Syl."
"How's the rash?"
"It's gone, finally."
"You liar, what'd you have to do eh? Burn the fucking skin off, or did you use sandpaper?"
"Ha-ha, fuck you alright. That was the worst night of my life, for the most part anyways."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, when I woke up I was naked, like I said, and I didn't have a fucking clue what to do with myself, so I sort of just stumbled back to the Oak and Samantha was just getting off?"
"Samantha?"
"Yeah, I guess she works there or something. Anyways, she took me back to her place after?"
"You're serious right now?"
"Yeah man."
"Why didn't you tell me that before?"
"Well I thought you might be mad or something? but I talked to her and she says that you two are just friends now anyways, and like completely over it or whatever?"
"Rot in hell you fucking bastard."
"What'd you say to me Mahon?"
"I think you heard me, you fucking slob."
"You better be careful, Charlie boy?"
"Take that filthy dick of yours and keep it the fuck away from me, alright?"
"Oh, coming from the biggest man-whore in the city."
"Yeah, that might be true Syl - you might have a point there. But somehow I've managed to keep my dick out of the filthy holes while you just go diving right into those gaping mother fuckers. You just can't help yourself can you Silly boy? There's a problem with this fucking generation Syl, and it's you - haven't you ever taken a look in the mirror and wondered why you don't feel anything? Don't you realize how pointless you are?"
"You better hope I don't see your face around the market again Charlie boy."
"Oh, I can't wait."
Click.
"Hello?
"Charlie, its Ryan."
"Yeah, what's up man? How's South Port treating you?"
"I'm okay, something's happened though?"
"What?"
"Its Sebastian? he's? well, he's dead."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Someone shot him."
"Fuck."
"Yea?"
"But? I just spoke with him yesterday - he called me."
"Well you must have been one of the last people he talked to, because they found him dead this morning in his apartment."
"But? why?"
"No one really
knows for sure, but I mean, come one Charlie - we all knew what he was into?"
"I knew he was dealing?"
"He was doing a lot more than dealing, Charlie boy."
"What do you mean?"
"Sebastian has been running guns up through Toronto, apparently all the way up to Montreal."
"Jesus?"
"Charlie, there's something else?"
"What is it?"
"Sebastian was, well? he left town last month."
"What do you mean he left town?"
"He took off. He pulled a gun out on Tommy Carson, drove off with some 14 year old girl he was banging, some girl he brought up from the city."
"I don't get it?"
"We think he was running girls too, kids."
"Running?"
"Yeah, you know, whoring them out."
"What the fuck is happening?"
"I don't know man, but Sebastian is dead and the cops found dozens of guns in his apartment; shotguns, handguns, rifles, even a couple grenades."
"How do you know that?"
"Come on Charlie, this is South Port, you know how things get around here."
"This can't be happening."
"That's not even the weirdest part? apparently they found videos, on his computer. no one knows for sure what was on them but, people are talking?"
"What do you mean?"
"Sex tapes, weird ones."
"Jesus?"
"Apparently, there was a pink teddy bear sitting on his chest, you know, when they found him this morning."
"A pink teddy bear?"
"Apparently."
"What does this all mean?"
"I'm not sure Charlie, just thought you should know."
"Thanks, I guess."
"Take care, man."
"You too."
Click.
"Hello?"
"-------"
"Hello!"
"Stop! No, no --- - PLEASE ---- - ah -- - I can't, no - stop stop STOP! AHHHHHHHHH"
Click.
Chapter 23
I put on a collared shirt because it's the only clean shirt I have left and I spit on my wall as I walk out the door of my shithole apartment. The sun is out and things are all soaking through the snow. It seeps inside me and makes me all soggy and pathetic. There doesn't seem like much else I can do. Tiny crystals dance on the crusted surface of the ice coated pavement. I tried watching the tape of Syl fucking the tranny again but it kept making me barf so I had to turn it off. Paul has rented an apartment on Elgin Street because my mom is going to keep the house, which is good, I guess.
Moving down the darkened pavement at a crawl, and in the sky everything is grey. My face aches as the wind cuts sharp across the bruised and battered flesh. The thing that eats me up most is that I always knew it would be like this. And every day I wake up and try to tell myself things are going to be different, but it never works out that way. I keep expecting this fucking magical moment - this climax or sign or epiphany - but nothing ever comes. Where's my Miramax moment? I keep looking up into the sky but it just stares back all blank and grey so that I start wishing for comets and missiles and lasers to shoot down from above. I can't stop myself from regretting the way it ended because she was my best fucking friend, she was everything. And when you know that if you just got that one chance, that chance to talk to her again, and you would say all those things you never said when you had the chance, when you should have, and every word would come out perfectly, eloquently. We laughed at each other's jokes and when I said weird shit or stupid shit or gross shit, she would always giggle and call me a loser or retarded or sometimes she'd just hit me but it was always good, you know, and now neither of us is with anyone, and to me it just seems like a complete fucking waste. I fucked everything up. And then she fucked everything up. So now we're both fucked; but not with each other.
I get to her house and bang on her door. She answers in her pink bathrobe with nothing on underneath. I see her reel a bit at the sight of my face. She reaches out towards the gash above my eye and I bat her hand away. I can't call her mine anymore.
"How the fuck could you do it?"
"Do what?" she says.
"Sleep with him, again."
"Charlie, don't - please?"
"No, I really have to know."
"What happened to your face?"
"I cut myself shaving."
"Charles?"
"No - I need to know. I mean, I fucking loved you Sam - I still love you. And I know you feel something too because I can see the way you look at me and the way you smile? but there's something stopping you."
"Charlie, it's just?"
"Why do you torture me like this? I mean, why don't you just admit what you want?"
"You don't get it!" she screams, cutting me off in anguish. "I can't trust you anymore. I gave you so many chances Charles, and every time you told me things would go back to the way they were, you were always such a romantic - but all we did was fight! Nothing was ever going to change. We were always arguing with each other, but then you would go out and buy my flowers, or ballet tickets, or you'd give me a back massage? we were just good at pretending?"
"Pretending?"
"It wasn't real Charlie, it wasn't the way you remember it."
"But? I want to go back?"
"It's too late now," she says. "Everything's changed."
"What about the other night?" I say, clutching and pleading.
"Charlie, it's not what you think. The reason I got fired? the reason I came back to Ottawa, it's not what you think."
"What do you mean?"
"I had a boyfriend Charlie, we were living together and? he dumped me. I was devastated. I quit my job, left Toronto, dropped everything and came running back here to Ottawa. And it's been nice, to see you, to see all the people I used to know, but it's only a rebound. I won't be staying here, I can't. I don't want to get stuck in a rut?"
"So? what are you saying? You're saying that I'm a fucking rut?"
"No, Charlie, please - try to understand."
"Understand what? What the fuck are you trying to say?"
"Me and you will never work, not ever again," she says, staring into my soul. "I was feeling weak, vulnerable, and I'll admit I've thought about you a lot lately, but I can't keep doing this, I can't keep going back."
"Sam?"
"Just get out of here, please, just go Charlie."
Before she shuts the door I turn back and say 'you should probably get your cunt looked at' which makes her start crying a lot harder.
I meet up with Pat in Cornerstones and when he sees my face he goes 'what the fuck happened to you man?' and I say 'nothing' and he says 'was it Syl?' which makes me laugh and shake my head.
"So where is this new car of yours, Charlie boy?"
"Doesn't exist anymore."
"What do you mean?"
"I crashed it."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah."
"And that's what happened to your face?"
"Sure."
"Sure?"
"Yeah, sure - well, sort of - can we just have a fucking drink already?"
Patty laughs and pats me on the back, patty-pat pats, and we go over to the bar to enjoy a couple of over-priced drinks. We know the bartender though, so he gives us doubles and triples and puts a little banana liqueur in our Coronas so we get right smashed. The place is pretty empty and Patty disappears for a bit while I sit at the bar staring mindlessly at the hockey game. Patty comes back with the staff bathroom key because he used to work in the kitchen or something, anyways, trekking down the stairs and piling inside the rotten stall. Pat busts out a couple lines and I ask him how often he's doing this shit now. 'not that much man,' he says. But I can see the outlines of his skull against the pale skin, all stretched out across his forehead. And his eye sockets were starting to bulge out of his head a bit. I do a line but it doesn't make me feel any better. My
nose burns at first, but then the numbness sets in and the -snnnnn-ahhhhh - one more good sir, righteo then - onward and upward, soaring about in my mangled mind, stopping at random pit-stops with severed heads sopping in the toilets.
"I dropped out," he tells me.
"Shit man?"
"My dad is pretty pissed."
"Naturally."
"Yeah, but that's only because he can't gloat anymore. If only he knew. Shit, I've drank more here and tried more drugs? I've fucked without rubbers on, I mean, what do they think we're doing up here?"
I laugh and nod my head, but in my mind I realize how contrived these little coke-filled diatribes are - meaningless results for actual problems. I have this sinking feeling that I don't even know who Pat is.
We leave Cornerstones and Patty says 'just so you know, Syl is looking for you -' and I say 'yeah yeah another fucking story, another fucking day.'
Where is he in all of this?
We're in hell.
I can't call her mine anymore.
When I get to my apartment my door is sitting ajar. Poking my head inside, I see that my place has been trashed. My mattress is flipped up on its side, and there are smashed plates all over the floor.
My toothbrush and all my other bathroom amenities are floating in the toilet and it looks like someone tried to start a fire because the oven is on with a bunch of papers stuffed down in the elements. My steel-toe boot is sticking out from the television screen, and it sort of makes me laugh at first, but I don't really have the energy to smile, so I stop. I go over to the oven and turn it off, taking note of the blood stains on the floor from when Paul broke my face. I go over to my closet and reach up to where I hid the video of Syl and the tranny, but it's gone.
Then I leave - not before noticing the message carved into my wall that says 'Run Charlie Run.'
When I get outside the building I feel like somebody is watching me. My phone starts ringing again but someone taps me on the shoulder before I can answer it.
"Jesus!"
"Sorry Charlie boy, I thought you heard me."
"What's up, Ron?"
My landlord shrugs and asks me if everything is okay. He's wearing a dull teal uniform with yellow-stained teeth and I would give anything to be him right now.
"I'm doing great, Ron," I say.
"You don't look so good Charlie? I saw your room?"
"That wasn't me who did that."
"Who was it?"