Update!
OK, here’s the next chapter.
Title: Unison
Rating: R
Summary: Ryan Dunn has been away for four years, until he gets a call that he never expected and reluctantly returns to the one place he used to call home.
Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with any of the characters in this story. It is simply a work of fiction.
Prologue
It’s nearly seven on a Friday night. I make my way into West Chester, yawning constantly. I feel myself begin to surrender to the pains of fatigue, all the while knowing that I can’t stop until I get there. I don’t know why I’m doing this to myself; it’s not like I’m trying to prove anything to anybody. But being the “bad” driver that I am, I know I should try to stop somewhere soon to get some rest. That just won’t be happening.
It’s surreal, being back here. All the memories that I’ve had of my adolescence, drenched with humor, sadism, and the like, come flooding back. We happily participated in stupid pranks like running into walls, playing war games, launching footballs into people’s cars, kicking each other in the nuts - shit like that that would make adults tremble and look on in horror, hoping that their own children wouldn’t be influenced by our behavior. It was too late for that when “Jackass” came around, and when some kid set himself on fire trying to copy a stunt, we knew we’d be in trouble. But we weren’t babysitters; we weren’t trying to set examples for future generations. No, we were trying to have ourselves some fun, since life is otherwise too short and monotonous to make a point.
And I can still feel the old battle scars. I shiver as I get closer and closer to that house, taking the corner, feeling the tears well up.
It’s still as yellow as I remember it. My own parents marveled at the size, but it still looks untouched, newer than new. Yet the people who lived there for so long knew better, and so did I. I couldn’t stand to leave that house. It was a source of comfort, and I spent more time there than at my own house, and I wondered why my parents never mentioned their concerns to me. Maybe they felt with people like Phil and April Margera, I was going to be okay. It was just their offspring that they were worried about. They were the nicest to me when I moved here. I couldn’t believe that they still took me in as a son and never let me go. Even after the accident that nearly killed their own children, they kept me at arm’s length for a while, but they never ostracized or hated me. I know April will still remind me of it, and I know she’s a mother, but the guilt lives within me every day as if it were another person breathing inside of me and tearing me apart. Now that I’m a parent, I finally understand.
It’s still surrounded by oak and pine, and it feels so cool when I open the windows. The minute I pull into the driveway, there almost isn’t enough room. There are several other cars that are there. I manage to snag a spot and I turn the engine off. My jeans feel grimy, my hands slick with sweat. I can’t stand knocking on the door and being greeted by all these people that I used to know so well. I’m not even sure that I really want to do this, but there really is no turning back. I’ve come too far to change my mind now. I make my fist, and my knuckles rap against the wood. I take a deep breath and sneak a look around, noticing the bright lights that are coming from the kitchen. I hear noise, but I wait for someone to answer the door. When someone finally opens it, I feel the nausea creep up, the bile burning the back of my throat. I swallow it, but the feeling doesn’t completely go away.
I’m nervous as hell, and I’m wondering who’ll notice. I was always easy to read.
I come face to face with bright baby blues and curly blond hair. It isn’t at all who I expected. She can’t be more than three or four years old, and here she is, standing in a blue dress, staring up at me.
“Who are you?” she asks me in her tiny voice.
I’m shocked to say the least. I kneel down and ask her, “Are you Jesse Margera’s little girl?”
She is unwavering, stoic. “How did you know?”
I smile, hoping that soon enough, she’ll return it. Then I wonder why they let her answer the door in the first place. “I’m Ryan Dunn. I’m a friend of your father’s.”
“Mommy and Daddy say that I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” she replies.
I nod. “That’s true. You don’t know me, but if you bring your daddy to the door, he’ll recognize me.”
She seems to consider it. I can’t blame her if she wants to slam the door in my face. I sound like a complete prick, like I actually want to molest her or something. Before she can call anybody, I hear, “Ava, who’s at the door?”
“He says his name is Ryan Dunn,” she calls back. Without thinking, I start laughing at the response and try to catch my balance.
I suddenly hear a collective gasp and people yelling my name. Footsteps echo from the dining room and bound into the stairway where the two of us are standing. I take a deep breath, swallow all the air I can, and hope for the best. The faces I suddenly see are memories of a life I once knew, something so deep and profound I can’t even put it into words.
“You OK?” Ava says to me.
I stand up and steady myself against the wall. “I’ll be OK.”
I see the boys, and it’s like yesterday. Four years doesn’t seem like much, like nothing has changed, but it really has. Jess is the first to greet me, and I’m so grateful to see him. His eyes are sleepy but laughing, and he looks like he just got off tour, with the disheveled hair and the dirty looking clothes. But I still follow CKY, and the last tour concluded two months before. Jess is so much like his father not only in looks, but in temperament, and I know I will be spared some kind of verbal punishment for being gone so long.
“Dunn,” he cries, “where you been?” He throws his arms around me, and the nausea floats away. “Man, it’s good to see you!”
“You, too, Jess,” I reply. I know with his daughter standing there he doesn’t want to start swearing otherwise the greeting would have been completely different.
“Obviously, you’ve met Ava,” he says proudly, picking up his little girl and kissing her cheek.
I start thinking of Nora and say, “Yeah, she’s a sweetheart.”
Soon, his expression changes, and he looks over at Ava. “You know what we say about talking to strangers, right? He didn’t say anything mean to you, did he?”
Ava looks over from him to me and says, “No, Daddy. He’s a nice guy.”
“Better believe it,” Jess laughs, putting her down. “Go tell Grandma to come downstairs.”
He lets me in the house and disappears around the corner, and I’m suddenly bombarded by the next face I see: the face of one Brandon DiCamillo. As I close the door behind me, I know what’s coming. He was the genius of our inner circle, with his impressions and rhymes, and he had an overall sense of loyalty to the group. He is no longer the thin man I had come to know. Rather, he’s becoming a bit chubby, with a protruding stomach that makes him look like he’s about six months pregnant. Quite frankly, I don’t need to see him to know he’s arrived.
“UH-HUUUUUH,” he calls. “The faggot has returned!”
“Fuck, Dico,” I guffaw. “Apart from the extra baggage in your stomach, you haven’t changed a bit!”
Most of us are not the sentimental type, but Dico grabs me in his arms and gives me a hug I genuinely accept. Insanity aside, it’s just really good to see his face. And I know in his eyes, he’s happy to see me, too.
“How are you, man?” he asks me softly.
I have to smile. “I’m alright, despite everything, you know?”
He nods, “I hear ya’. It’s been… quiet. It’s never quiet at the castle. We all came back here because it was… safe, you know? It’s home.”
“Yeah,” I whisper. “How’s everyone holdin’ up?”
He sighs, appearing as if he doesn’t want to approach the topic, and I completely understand. “Not good, man. I can’t believe he’s really gone, you know? I mean, everybody’s totally in denial, like this thing didn’t fuckin’ happen or some shit like that. I just… You know, I don’t even wanna believe it myself.”
“I think we all pretty much feel that way,” I sigh, trying my best not to sound patronizing. “When I got the news, I didn’t get it directly. Angie was the one that told me, and it was like I got socked in the stomach. And man, she was in tears. She cried more than me, and I knew him longer than she did.”
“How is she?”
I grin, the sadness slowly fading. “Oh, man, she’s… she’s great. She’s home in Medina right now, though, taking care of the baby.”
Dico’s eyes widen. “Fuckin’ kidding me! You’re a dad? Congratulations!”
“Nora Christine Dunn,” I chuckle, taking out my wallet to show him my pictures. I pull them out of the fold and show him, continuing. “Seven pounds, eight ounces, nineteen inches long. Well, that was six months ago, but still…”
Dico smiles. “Reminds me of Ava when I first saw her.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for that.”
“What, the birth?” Dico jokes. “Who the hell wants to be there for that?”
I chuckle, “You know what I mean, Dic. I mean, I should have stuck around, you know, to see the kid. Looking at her now, I can’t imagine what she was like as a baby.” I hesitate before asking my next question. “H-How’s Bam?”
“Jesus,” Dico hisses, shaking his head. “That boy’s a wreck. Just won’t come out of his fucking house. And Missy’s at her wit’s end with him, but she’s trying. She’s still by his side. I can’t blame him, though. First he loses Mum-Mum, and now…. now his own father.”
My mouth falls open. “Dude, you didn’t tell me that Mum-Mum died! No one did! Had I known, I would’ve been back here immediately.”
“He didn’t want you to get involved in all that,” Dico sighs.
“But… why didn’t anybody say anything?”
Before Dico can respond, I hear more noise. From the dining room, there’s a rush of people. Brandon Novak, Rake Yohn, Raab Himself… They’re all here to greet me. They’re all here to share my grief. Novak is the first to surprise me. He’s got a goatee that almost makes him look like a rat, but the rest of him is amazing. He’s still skinny as hell, but his hair is cut with a few tendrils in the face, and he looks like he has some color in his cheeks. He’s dressed almost conservatively, minus the jeans. Never in my life would I have ever imagined Novak wearing a sweater and looking so preppy. That was one thing we collectively railed against, in part because most of us were the outcasts in school. And Novak…. Well, because he was so deep into drugs, he didn’t really care about all that shit. His smile is huge, sincere, wistful. His eyes are shining. He looks…. happy. And Rake Yohn, still with the metal god hair, only it’s a bit tamer. He’s wearing glasses and he still dresses the same way. Jesus, all the guys look like they’ve lost weight, including Raab. From what I hear, he doesn’t drink as much as he used to. He was the only one who could really admit that he drank too much to begin with. He’s no longer a kid; rather he’s becoming more mature. I think to myself that this can’t be true, that this same kid who got kicked out of school for shitting on a locker could ever grow up. Yet, he was the same way as I was - growing apart from everyone else to do his own thing.
“Motherfuckin’ Dunn,” Novak says, pulling me into a tight embrace. “How the fuck are ya’, sweetheart?”
“Yeah, dude,” Rake begins, “where’ve you been?”
“He’s been in fuckin’ Ohio,” Dico scorns mockingly, as if he were chewing Rake out for not knowing where the hell I’d been all this time.
Rake just rolls his eyes. “Shut the fuck up, Dico!”
“Hey, Rake, take it easy, man,” Raab interjects. “We just got Dunn back. We don’t wanna scare him off.”
I realize I’m the life of the “party”, and I nervously run my fingers through my hair. “Are you guys OK?”
“Yeah,” the guys reply tentatively. Naturally, this is rough on them as it is for me.
“Yo, Dunn,” Dico says from behind. “You becomin’ Rake now? What’s up with the hair?”
I just shrug. “I don’t feel like cuttin’ it, that’s all. I mean, at least, not right now.”
“C’mon, Grandma,” I hear Ava’s voice calling. “Daddy wants you to come downstairs. Please?”
Ava’s feet climb down the stairs excitedly, and we all look up. It’s seeing her face that brings me back, the beautiful woman that was always like a mother to me, and I start to wonder if she’ll ever let me back in her life. I step through the small crowd to reach out to her, and I feel her gaze on mine. She is surprised to see me as I am to see her. There is no trace of makeup, her eyes are slightly swollen, and her hair is pinned back. But I see the small twinkle of recognition in her eyes when she looks at me, and I just want to hold her, to let her know everything will be alright.
“Ryan,” she whispers, and I feel myself beginning to crumble. Slowly she comes down the stairs, and I don’t even say her name. I just grab her and bury my head in her shoulder, crying softly. Her arms are around me, and I inhale her sweet vanilla scent, the way I believe a mother should smell. I can hear her cry, too, and I can’t help but think of the way I'd feel if I lost Angie the way April - all of us really - lost Phil.
Title: Unison
Rating: R
Summary: Ryan Dunn has been away for four years, until he gets a call that he never expected and reluctantly returns to the one place he used to call home.
Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with any of the characters in this story. It is simply a work of fiction.
Prologue
It’s nearly seven on a Friday night. I make my way into West Chester, yawning constantly. I feel myself begin to surrender to the pains of fatigue, all the while knowing that I can’t stop until I get there. I don’t know why I’m doing this to myself; it’s not like I’m trying to prove anything to anybody. But being the “bad” driver that I am, I know I should try to stop somewhere soon to get some rest. That just won’t be happening.
It’s surreal, being back here. All the memories that I’ve had of my adolescence, drenched with humor, sadism, and the like, come flooding back. We happily participated in stupid pranks like running into walls, playing war games, launching footballs into people’s cars, kicking each other in the nuts - shit like that that would make adults tremble and look on in horror, hoping that their own children wouldn’t be influenced by our behavior. It was too late for that when “Jackass” came around, and when some kid set himself on fire trying to copy a stunt, we knew we’d be in trouble. But we weren’t babysitters; we weren’t trying to set examples for future generations. No, we were trying to have ourselves some fun, since life is otherwise too short and monotonous to make a point.
And I can still feel the old battle scars. I shiver as I get closer and closer to that house, taking the corner, feeling the tears well up.
It’s still as yellow as I remember it. My own parents marveled at the size, but it still looks untouched, newer than new. Yet the people who lived there for so long knew better, and so did I. I couldn’t stand to leave that house. It was a source of comfort, and I spent more time there than at my own house, and I wondered why my parents never mentioned their concerns to me. Maybe they felt with people like Phil and April Margera, I was going to be okay. It was just their offspring that they were worried about. They were the nicest to me when I moved here. I couldn’t believe that they still took me in as a son and never let me go. Even after the accident that nearly killed their own children, they kept me at arm’s length for a while, but they never ostracized or hated me. I know April will still remind me of it, and I know she’s a mother, but the guilt lives within me every day as if it were another person breathing inside of me and tearing me apart. Now that I’m a parent, I finally understand.
It’s still surrounded by oak and pine, and it feels so cool when I open the windows. The minute I pull into the driveway, there almost isn’t enough room. There are several other cars that are there. I manage to snag a spot and I turn the engine off. My jeans feel grimy, my hands slick with sweat. I can’t stand knocking on the door and being greeted by all these people that I used to know so well. I’m not even sure that I really want to do this, but there really is no turning back. I’ve come too far to change my mind now. I make my fist, and my knuckles rap against the wood. I take a deep breath and sneak a look around, noticing the bright lights that are coming from the kitchen. I hear noise, but I wait for someone to answer the door. When someone finally opens it, I feel the nausea creep up, the bile burning the back of my throat. I swallow it, but the feeling doesn’t completely go away.
I’m nervous as hell, and I’m wondering who’ll notice. I was always easy to read.
I come face to face with bright baby blues and curly blond hair. It isn’t at all who I expected. She can’t be more than three or four years old, and here she is, standing in a blue dress, staring up at me.
“Who are you?” she asks me in her tiny voice.
I’m shocked to say the least. I kneel down and ask her, “Are you Jesse Margera’s little girl?”
She is unwavering, stoic. “How did you know?”
I smile, hoping that soon enough, she’ll return it. Then I wonder why they let her answer the door in the first place. “I’m Ryan Dunn. I’m a friend of your father’s.”
“Mommy and Daddy say that I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” she replies.
I nod. “That’s true. You don’t know me, but if you bring your daddy to the door, he’ll recognize me.”
She seems to consider it. I can’t blame her if she wants to slam the door in my face. I sound like a complete prick, like I actually want to molest her or something. Before she can call anybody, I hear, “Ava, who’s at the door?”
“He says his name is Ryan Dunn,” she calls back. Without thinking, I start laughing at the response and try to catch my balance.
I suddenly hear a collective gasp and people yelling my name. Footsteps echo from the dining room and bound into the stairway where the two of us are standing. I take a deep breath, swallow all the air I can, and hope for the best. The faces I suddenly see are memories of a life I once knew, something so deep and profound I can’t even put it into words.
“You OK?” Ava says to me.
I stand up and steady myself against the wall. “I’ll be OK.”
I see the boys, and it’s like yesterday. Four years doesn’t seem like much, like nothing has changed, but it really has. Jess is the first to greet me, and I’m so grateful to see him. His eyes are sleepy but laughing, and he looks like he just got off tour, with the disheveled hair and the dirty looking clothes. But I still follow CKY, and the last tour concluded two months before. Jess is so much like his father not only in looks, but in temperament, and I know I will be spared some kind of verbal punishment for being gone so long.
“Dunn,” he cries, “where you been?” He throws his arms around me, and the nausea floats away. “Man, it’s good to see you!”
“You, too, Jess,” I reply. I know with his daughter standing there he doesn’t want to start swearing otherwise the greeting would have been completely different.
“Obviously, you’ve met Ava,” he says proudly, picking up his little girl and kissing her cheek.
I start thinking of Nora and say, “Yeah, she’s a sweetheart.”
Soon, his expression changes, and he looks over at Ava. “You know what we say about talking to strangers, right? He didn’t say anything mean to you, did he?”
Ava looks over from him to me and says, “No, Daddy. He’s a nice guy.”
“Better believe it,” Jess laughs, putting her down. “Go tell Grandma to come downstairs.”
He lets me in the house and disappears around the corner, and I’m suddenly bombarded by the next face I see: the face of one Brandon DiCamillo. As I close the door behind me, I know what’s coming. He was the genius of our inner circle, with his impressions and rhymes, and he had an overall sense of loyalty to the group. He is no longer the thin man I had come to know. Rather, he’s becoming a bit chubby, with a protruding stomach that makes him look like he’s about six months pregnant. Quite frankly, I don’t need to see him to know he’s arrived.
“UH-HUUUUUH,” he calls. “The faggot has returned!”
“Fuck, Dico,” I guffaw. “Apart from the extra baggage in your stomach, you haven’t changed a bit!”
Most of us are not the sentimental type, but Dico grabs me in his arms and gives me a hug I genuinely accept. Insanity aside, it’s just really good to see his face. And I know in his eyes, he’s happy to see me, too.
“How are you, man?” he asks me softly.
I have to smile. “I’m alright, despite everything, you know?”
He nods, “I hear ya’. It’s been… quiet. It’s never quiet at the castle. We all came back here because it was… safe, you know? It’s home.”
“Yeah,” I whisper. “How’s everyone holdin’ up?”
He sighs, appearing as if he doesn’t want to approach the topic, and I completely understand. “Not good, man. I can’t believe he’s really gone, you know? I mean, everybody’s totally in denial, like this thing didn’t fuckin’ happen or some shit like that. I just… You know, I don’t even wanna believe it myself.”
“I think we all pretty much feel that way,” I sigh, trying my best not to sound patronizing. “When I got the news, I didn’t get it directly. Angie was the one that told me, and it was like I got socked in the stomach. And man, she was in tears. She cried more than me, and I knew him longer than she did.”
“How is she?”
I grin, the sadness slowly fading. “Oh, man, she’s… she’s great. She’s home in Medina right now, though, taking care of the baby.”
Dico’s eyes widen. “Fuckin’ kidding me! You’re a dad? Congratulations!”
“Nora Christine Dunn,” I chuckle, taking out my wallet to show him my pictures. I pull them out of the fold and show him, continuing. “Seven pounds, eight ounces, nineteen inches long. Well, that was six months ago, but still…”
Dico smiles. “Reminds me of Ava when I first saw her.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for that.”
“What, the birth?” Dico jokes. “Who the hell wants to be there for that?”
I chuckle, “You know what I mean, Dic. I mean, I should have stuck around, you know, to see the kid. Looking at her now, I can’t imagine what she was like as a baby.” I hesitate before asking my next question. “H-How’s Bam?”
“Jesus,” Dico hisses, shaking his head. “That boy’s a wreck. Just won’t come out of his fucking house. And Missy’s at her wit’s end with him, but she’s trying. She’s still by his side. I can’t blame him, though. First he loses Mum-Mum, and now…. now his own father.”
My mouth falls open. “Dude, you didn’t tell me that Mum-Mum died! No one did! Had I known, I would’ve been back here immediately.”
“He didn’t want you to get involved in all that,” Dico sighs.
“But… why didn’t anybody say anything?”
Before Dico can respond, I hear more noise. From the dining room, there’s a rush of people. Brandon Novak, Rake Yohn, Raab Himself… They’re all here to greet me. They’re all here to share my grief. Novak is the first to surprise me. He’s got a goatee that almost makes him look like a rat, but the rest of him is amazing. He’s still skinny as hell, but his hair is cut with a few tendrils in the face, and he looks like he has some color in his cheeks. He’s dressed almost conservatively, minus the jeans. Never in my life would I have ever imagined Novak wearing a sweater and looking so preppy. That was one thing we collectively railed against, in part because most of us were the outcasts in school. And Novak…. Well, because he was so deep into drugs, he didn’t really care about all that shit. His smile is huge, sincere, wistful. His eyes are shining. He looks…. happy. And Rake Yohn, still with the metal god hair, only it’s a bit tamer. He’s wearing glasses and he still dresses the same way. Jesus, all the guys look like they’ve lost weight, including Raab. From what I hear, he doesn’t drink as much as he used to. He was the only one who could really admit that he drank too much to begin with. He’s no longer a kid; rather he’s becoming more mature. I think to myself that this can’t be true, that this same kid who got kicked out of school for shitting on a locker could ever grow up. Yet, he was the same way as I was - growing apart from everyone else to do his own thing.
“Motherfuckin’ Dunn,” Novak says, pulling me into a tight embrace. “How the fuck are ya’, sweetheart?”
“Yeah, dude,” Rake begins, “where’ve you been?”
“He’s been in fuckin’ Ohio,” Dico scorns mockingly, as if he were chewing Rake out for not knowing where the hell I’d been all this time.
Rake just rolls his eyes. “Shut the fuck up, Dico!”
“Hey, Rake, take it easy, man,” Raab interjects. “We just got Dunn back. We don’t wanna scare him off.”
I realize I’m the life of the “party”, and I nervously run my fingers through my hair. “Are you guys OK?”
“Yeah,” the guys reply tentatively. Naturally, this is rough on them as it is for me.
“Yo, Dunn,” Dico says from behind. “You becomin’ Rake now? What’s up with the hair?”
I just shrug. “I don’t feel like cuttin’ it, that’s all. I mean, at least, not right now.”
“C’mon, Grandma,” I hear Ava’s voice calling. “Daddy wants you to come downstairs. Please?”
Ava’s feet climb down the stairs excitedly, and we all look up. It’s seeing her face that brings me back, the beautiful woman that was always like a mother to me, and I start to wonder if she’ll ever let me back in her life. I step through the small crowd to reach out to her, and I feel her gaze on mine. She is surprised to see me as I am to see her. There is no trace of makeup, her eyes are slightly swollen, and her hair is pinned back. But I see the small twinkle of recognition in her eyes when she looks at me, and I just want to hold her, to let her know everything will be alright.
“Ryan,” she whispers, and I feel myself beginning to crumble. Slowly she comes down the stairs, and I don’t even say her name. I just grab her and bury my head in her shoulder, crying softly. Her arms are around me, and I inhale her sweet vanilla scent, the way I believe a mother should smell. I can hear her cry, too, and I can’t help but think of the way I'd feel if I lost Angie the way April - all of us really - lost Phil.