Money
I was sprawled out across the couch, just flipping through channels, when it hit me. The bleached, botoxed woman on the television was trying to sell me some product. It was one of those buy one get one free deals. And I started to wonder, does it really matter if you get one free? Wouldn't you buy it anyways? Well, if you would buy it. Then: why would you buy it? You are spending all that money on something that's not anything. It is a useless way to squander money. And that is exactly what I need to do.
I didn't realize it until a few days ago, but I have been doing pretty well lately, monitarily anyways. Something about a warm loaf of bread when it is freezing cold outside seems to attract people. I've been saving money. I didn't mean to, but I have. It's just a couple hundred dollars stashed around my room, but it is something. Too much of something.
I grabbed $150 out of the envelope under my bed, prepared to spend it all before the night was out.
...
I never much cared for carnivals when I was younger; I get dizzy easily, and the freak-shows always piqued my curiosity but never satisfied it. Cotton candy was the only part I ever cared for, and even that pleasure left me years ago. However, this town doesn't have much too offer, no point to getting picky.
After seeing a man breathe fire, a woman with two heads, a half-man half-cat, and a variety of other "freaks," I devoured my way through a grease-covered funnel cake, two bags of artificially flavored cotton candy, and one and half rather flat Dr. Peppers; then I rode the ferris wheel (while thinking, I can see my house from here! and every other miserable establishment in the few blocks I call home), and I was finally $40 poorer, sick to my stomach, and ready to go elsewhere.
On my way out, I ran into Dave, and I asked him, "I'm am looking for a good way to spend some money, have any ideas?" Rather unsurprisingly, he suggested sex and booze, the town's staple commodities.
"I don't go to hookers. It's a personal policy. Don't get me wrong I used to love a good...well yeah...just a few years ago, you couldn't persuade me not to, but I don't do that anymore. However, I'll take you up on the alcohol, but it's still a bit too early for me. Want to join me for a drink later?"
He told me he couldn't; he was already busy or something. If his expression hadn't been so vaccant throughout our conversation, it would have surprised me that he never seemed too curious as to why I wanted to spend more money; it's not exactly a usual request around here.
...
Come that night, I was ready to spend my last $40 on some drinks for me and whoever else happened to show up. I spent the day handing out a few dollars to whoever happened ask for money, quite a few people, buying little trinkets for those who deserve something good in their lives, not too many people, and generally squandering my money however I could. In a little shop, I found a painting of the intersection between Katz and Mercy. Somehow the artist had managed to capture the charming qualities of the streets that are normallly masked by and dirt and disrepair. The buildings looked like destinations that respectable people would frequent; they would stop by the butcher shop for fresh cut meat, return home every evening to their families living in Wilshire tower, and actually shop for old furniture or jewelry in the antique store. I bought the painting for Lt. Statone. Maybe it will be the inspiration he needs to help clean up this town. Probably not. I left the painting somewhere he could find it, but I didn't leave my name or anything. I don't really want that kind of attention. Especially from a cop.
You can never be sure of who you will run into at Last Stop. Everyone shows up there at some point or another. That night there was a girl sitting at the bar. I think her name is Alex or maybe they call her Captain; no one is ever sure of who they are when they're here. As I sat down next to her, she half smiled in my direction, but the smile never quite reached her eyes. I offered to buy her a drink.
"Sure. Around here, who doesn't say yes to a free drink?"
"It's rare," I said in response.
At some point, I don't remember how it happened, I was on my fifth drink. I don't remember if Alex had one or ten, but it didn't matter. I was doing most of the talking.
"I bet you didn't know I used to have money. Soooooo much money. Like millions."
"Yeah, sure. Didn't everybody." She was skeptical. After all, I am living here.
"No really. Struck it rich she did, my mother you see, lots of money, but it was too much money, you know? You know what I mean?"
"Nah, I can't say I do. You don't know what I would do for that much money."
"Exactly, it's what people do that's the problem.That's the problem with money, the things it makes people do. Some things are worth more than money."
I don't remember much after that. I'm in my bed now, a miracle really; I don't know how I got here.
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Alex jerked awake, pouring sweat, her heart pounding. Brief but vivid images ran through her head: an old ship, rain pounding on the deck, lightning striking, wood splitting, a male voice screaming, and then silence except for the thunder.
ReplyDeleteShe couldn't go back to sleep; she didn't even consider trying. She rolled out of bed and looked out the window. It was still dark, 1:00 a.m. according to the clock on her dresser. She racked her brain for something to do, something that would be open at this time. She settled on the bar down the street and pulled on some clothes, grateful that the smell of ocean was finally fading off them. She locked her door behind her and set off down the hall, carefully avoiding all other tenants.
"What the hell?" Alex eyed the chicken on the sidewalk in front of her; it stared back.
Just when she thought this town couldn't get any stranger, a chicken shows up. A chicken that was staring. Its little, beady eyes seemed to be mocking her. The more she stared back, the more the chicken seemed to make fun of her. It joked about her appearance, her fears, her past, her loneliness. Her whole life was being made fun of by a chicken.
"FUCK OFF!" Alex yelled and stomped her feet, forcing the tears away.
The chicken backed up a little, but kept staring. Another chicken showed up and stared at Alex too. Now it was her turn to back up. She had to be crazy; thinking a chicken was mocking her. She had to be going insane. She blamed the town. This strange town was forcing her into insanity.
She walked around the chickens, far around, and heading into the bar. She sat by herself and ordered a rum and coke. And then, once she had finished her first one, she ordered another. And by the time the guy down the bar asked to buy her a drink, she was too tipsy to say no. She wouldn't remember this night: the dream, the chickens, or the nice guy at the bar. That was the point, really. She didn't want to remember anything. And by the time she stumbled back into her apartment early that morning, she had already forgotten.
CRACKING DOWN
ReplyDeleteI awake to a shaded room and what sounds like dozens of chickens. I think its all a dream and turn to look at my clock.
It is 5:12pm. Darn. I slept the whole day away. I guess yesterday at the carnival tired me out.
I go to the drawer and pull out my father's letter and read it for the umpteenth time. I take note of every initialed reference and then head out to unveil the mystery and figure out my father's past.
The first thing to do is ask around since I don't know anyone. The best thing is to head to the carnival again. It seems like everyone is always there. So I head out the house.
On the way to the carnival I realize why I heard chickens. There are literally dozens of chicken wandering the street and some are walking straight towards the carnival and some are in the mix of the rally going on...So weird.
I arrive at the carnival and see that everyone is there since its the last day. I can definitely find out who is who today-and I intend to.
I walk around and spot a few people that I've noticed before. So I head in their direction first. I first talk to a woman named Edna. I don't just come right out and tell her what I really came to ask. Instead I just do small talk. She doesn't seem to want to talk so I come right out and ask her about the initials. She looks at them puzzled for a minute and then turns and looks at me with a screwed look.
"What is this for child?".
I swallow hard and then begin to explain my father's letter and the initials.
Halfway in, Edna stops me and asks,"wait...what's your father's name?"
"Will", I answer.
The woman slowly backs up as if I were a stray dog about to attack. She then snaps and sternly says,"Will...he is not missed." Then she turns and walks away.
I dont know what to think of it so I brush it off and continue to search for answers. Thats when I find one initial person...Cain T.
He was standing by the cotton candy machine when i spotted him. It must have been written that we'd speak because as soon as I looked, he did the same and there was the same look on his face as that of Edna.
I walked towards him and his awkwardness intensified. When I reached talking distance, I introduced myself and asked his name. He hesitated to answer, but finally stuttered," C-Ca-Cah-Cain Taygen".
I gasped and realized that I was on the verge of a breakthrough. C.T is Cain Taygen. So I asked,"do you know my father?". He hesitated again.
"Well do you? His name is..."
"I know...Will".
I was stunned at his interruption. But I didnt say anything.He must have noticed that I wouldn't speak because he bagan.
"Come with me". I followed him to an area of the carnival where there were not much people.
"Can you keep a secret".
"Yes", I answered.
"Your father and I were really close".
"Well what's wrong with that?" I asked.
"No like really close", he said.
"I don't understand".
"Did you know your father...Like really know him".
"No, he died when I was 12".
"Well I really knew your father. He were really really close. You see---I am gay."
"Wait that means that my father is..."
"Yes. He was gay. And I was one of his regulars."
"What do you mean one of his regulars."
"Your father was not only gay. He was a gay man whore and frequently came to me."
"You're lying", I shouted and I turned to run away.
"If you don't believe me go visit Renee Factor."
Renee Factor I thought---R.F. This is not the answer I was looking for.