On Love, and Life (After Death) - PART II
After Ryan left Ryland and Alex two month’s rent and thank-you note for “everything,” he and Pete hit the road. Ryan stared out at the endless desert. They passed power grids and truck stops, canals and creeks.
Pete lit a cigarette and said, “Oh, by the way Ryan, my headlights don’t work.”
“What?” Ryan looked over in shock. “What?”
“Yeah. Broken. Won’t turn on. At all. Ever.”
“You’re just telling me this now? This means we can’t drive at night!” Ryan cried, distraught.
“Sorry, man. Forgot.”
“Well, fuck, we’ll stop somewhere and get them fixed. I’ll pay.”
“Whatever, man. I bet your balls they can’t be fixed.”
Ryan stared out the window for a while longer, keeping his eyes peeled for an auto repair shop. “Don’t you have any music?” he finally asked, picking up a box of cassettes and reading the titles. “I’ve never even heard of these bands. Do they still play?” He tried to remove “MURDER BY DEATH - wolfe” from its slot but dropped the entire case.
“Shit,” Pete said bluntly, glancing over. “Whatever falls under that seat, forget about it. It’s gone.”
“What do you mean? Is there a hole or something?” Ryan picked up his feet and looked at the floor, concerned for his safety.
“A black hole, yeah. Bermuda Triangle. Anything that goes under there never comes back up.”
Ryan put down his feet again and frowned at Pete, who acted as if it wasn’t a big deal. Then Ryan looked down at the middle console, and spotted another tape. “FALL OUT BOY - GIN JOINTS”
“What’s this?” he asked, sliding the tape into the player.
“Uh, my old band. Had it in my pocket when I offed,” Pete sounded incredibly sad, and Ryan suppressed his urge to ask questions.
“I like it,” Ryan tried to sound soothing.
Pete stayed silent, and Ryan noticed his hands shook as he lit a cigarette.
After several hours, a sign caught Ryan’s eye. “Mikey’s Repair Shop. Pull in over there.” Pete obliged, grumbling the entire time about wasting money.
A short, heavily tattooed man greeted them as they got out of the car “Hi! I’m Frank.” He shook hands with them both before asking Pete, “What can I do for you?”
He looked over, arching his eyebrows questioningly when Ryan spoke. “Uh, yeah, I wanna get the headlights checked out.”
Frank nodded and clapped his hands. “Alright. Just pull ‘er in and we’ll take a look.”
They were introduced to Mikey, the owner, and watched in silence as the duo took apart Pete’s car. After awhile, Pete nudged Ryan and walked further out into the driveway.
“You see that taxi?” Pete nodded to a black sedan that had TAXI crudely spray painted on the side.
“Yeah...” Ryan acknowledged, slightly afraid for where this was going.
“Check out the driver. What nationality is he?”
Ryan squinted. “Arab?”
“Bingo. Arabs? Motor Vehicles? Doesn’t that freak you out, man?”
This was as bad as Ryan feared. “Whatever, man, we all died and now we’re dead. He’s not going to try anything.”
“But he’s been staring at me the entire time.”
“Uh, maybe because you keep staring at him and he thinks you need a taxi.”
Pete eyed the car suspiciously before following Ryan back into the shop. Frank and Mikey’s heads were close together and they were whispering madly. Pete gave Ryan an ‘I-told-you-so” look and Ryan frowned.
“Alright, so, we have no idea what’s wrong,” Frank finally announced. “But we’ll work on it as soon as the sun rises. Promise. We can call you guys a cab if you’d like.”
Pete immediately shot down the cab. “We’ll just sleep in the car.”
“Like fucking rockstars.” Pete seemed excited to be sleeping in the car. Ryan rested his head against the window and sighed. He tried to imagine where Keltie was right now. What she was doing. Who she was doing it with. His heart twinged. He counted backwards from 100 several times, and finally drifted to sleep to the rhythm of Pete’s snores.
Ryan’s first and only thought when he woke up was oh dear god too bright oh god. He fumbled for Pete’s sunglasses, and promptly dropped them. “Shit.” He swore, leaning back against the seat. He wanted to go to sleep again, but his back was protesting his “mattress.” Pete stirred awake and swore. “Where are my goddamn sunglasses?” He asked.
“Dropped them.” Ryan mumbled, aware of the sun beating through the windshield. His body recalled the distant memory of how it filled his body with warmth and comfort. Now there was no effect.
“Ryyyan,” Pete whined. “Be careful, dude.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Shit. I gotta piss.” Ryan grunted half-heartedly. He opened the door, and cried out as he fell several feet to the ground.
“What the hell, guys?” Ryan called, squinting over Frank and Mikey.
Mikey greeted him with, “Good morning!”
Pete jumped down from the car and landed in a crouch. Ryan thought he heard him hiss, but Pete stood up and acted as though nothing unusual had happened.
“Your headlights are pure fucking evil.” Frank shouted from under the hood. “I have no idea what’s wrong with them, so fixing them is a problem.” He emerged, his face covered in grease smudges. “If you guys give us another day, we’ll have them working. Promise.”
Ryan glanced at Pete, who was shaking his head. “Told you so.”
They thanked the mechanics for their efforts, paid them for labour and hit the road again.
Ryan was lost in a memory of him and Keltie. It was the day they visited Ellis Island. Keltie had worn a flowy skirt and smiled all day.
“Are you asleep?” Pete asked after awhile, poking Ryan. “You’re missing a lot of beautiful shit.” Ryan huffed and squinted out the window at the burned-out RVs and torn couches that scattered the landscape.
“I’m never forgiving you for losing my shades.” Pete sighed, and Ryan struggled to form a response. He was starting to really sympathize with his friend, considering his eyes were starting to ache.
Ryan glanced ahead and noticed the person walking on the side of the road. He was wearing a lavender hoodie. He glanced behind him and jutted out his thumb.
“He’s got a Goonies backpack.” Ryan pointed out as they got closer. Pete immediately pulled into the shoulder, sending dirt flying everywhere and making Ryan cry out.
The man jogged up to the passenger window. “Where are you guys going?” he asked as soon as Ryan rolled down the window.
“Eastish,” Pete replied.
“Do you have any sort of... destination?” He asked hopefully.
“Not really,” Ryan glanced at Pete. “Just driving, for now.”
The hitchhiker considered for a moment, and then climbed into the backseat. “I’ve been hitchhiking since I got here.”
“You can’t have been here long, then,” Pete said, glancing in the rear-view.
“I haven’t. I’m looking for the People in Charge.”
“Why? I don’t think it really works like that,” Pete frowned at the rear-view mirror. “It’s like. When you were alive, did you ever go looking for God?”
“Well, no,” The boy popped a piece of gum into his mouth. “But I didn’t exactly have a reason to back then.”
“I’m sorry, but I still don’t get it. I mean you killed yourself, right? Why would you want to go back if there’s a reason you left?”
Ryan watched the boy shift uncomfortably and grip his bag. Ryan cut Pete off and asked the boy his name.
“Brendon.” He sounded relieved at the subject change. “What’s yours?”
Ryan nodded. “I’m Ryan.” Ryan looked over at Pete, and finally said “This is Pete,” after it became clear Pete had no interest in being civil.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Brendon replied.
“So, you’re trying to go back? You don’t like it here?” Ryan tried to approach the matter more gently.
“Um, seriously? Do you guys like it here?” Brendon asked incredulously. Ryan turned and stared out the windshield, defeated. “Who the hell would like a place where you can’t even smile?” Brendon deplored. “Everything’s so fucking bland, and everyone hates it. I just want to go home.”
Ryan had to agree.
Ryan suggested they invest in a tent, because he refused to sleep in the car again. They found a roadside store. There was a ratty tent set up in the yard, and they decided it was as good as any. Pete stayed by the car while Ryan paid, and Brendon wandered around the lot. After the cashier had left, Ryan watched Brendon subtly rip off a sign. Ryan looked questioningly at Brendon, who simply drifted back to the car, acting completely innocent.
They later burned the sign that Brendon stole. It read SHOPLIFTERS WILL BE SEVERLY PROSECUTED. They lay around the campfire, and Ryan watched sparks dance up to what he suddenly realise was a starless sky.
“I wonder if people who die normally end up without the stars.” Brendon said regretfully. “I miss them.”
“You get used to it.” Pete said, mournfully.
“I don’t want to get used to it!” Brendon cried, sitting up. “I want to go home. This guy I got a ride with the other day said I had a really good case. He said the People in Charge wear white outfits. And another guy said that he heard that the P.I.C. never died, they’ve simply been here the whole time.”
“Whatever.” Pete shook his head. “What is your case, by the way? Why do you think you’re special?”
Ryan frowned at Pete and wondered why he was so worked up about this.
“I’m not supposed to be here.” Brendon said simply, standing up and disappearing into the tent.
“In happier news,” Ryan announced, trying to lighten the mood. “I’ve got a hunch that Keltie’s close.”
Ryan had been dealing with flashback to days with Keltie since he got there, and suddenly they hit even harder. More intimate moments, more often. His heart ached. The more they drove, the worse he felt. He needed to find her, and fast. They started stopping in at every town, every gas station, Ryan asking about Keltie and Brendon about the People in Charge. Neither of them were ever successful. One cop tried to tell Brendon that what he was doing was illegal, and Ryan dragged Brendon away immediately.
They watched new parachuters fall to the ground. They stopped at rivers and went swimming. They drank. They made up stories and did the best they could to distract themselves from their currently fruitless quests. Ryan was still miserable. Brendon took to pulling the corner of his lips up to create a smile. Ryan tried to smile naturally, once. He barred his teeth instead, and it was the first time he realised how much he missed grinning.
They made up nicknames for each other. Ryan became Ryro, and Brendon changed into B-den. They often added “Pan” after Pete.
They lost too many items to count down the black hole. They bought groceries and lame novelty items. Ryan spent a lot of his time watching Brendon. They all learned the words to “Gin Joints.” They passed by trash piles and burnt out buildings. They passed a tire fire. Ryan missed The Simpsons, and wondered if the environment mattered here.
Pete eventually bought new shades, which Ryan dropped. “Dude, are you doing that on purpose?” Pete sighed, and Ryan apologised, half-heartedly. He was starting to feel too worn down to really do anything. He missed Keltie.
Brendon suggested they stop in at a diner. The lukewarm coffee helped Ryan feel a bit better. Brendon chatted with other patrons and Ryan watched him write something on a sign.
“So,” Brendon sighed, sitting down in their booth. “You guys really are going nowhere, aren’t you?”
Ryan was stunned. “Well...”
“We’re just waiting until we find his girl,” Pete shrugged.
Brendon shook his head and frowned. “Well, then, I guess this is as good a time as any to part ways. Thank you for taking me this far, good gentlemen!” He shook their hands, grabbed his bag, and walked out the front door. Ryan sat, completely paralyzed for a moment, before he ran out the door behind Brendon. He glanced around the parking lot and watched Brendon climb into a silver sedan, and Ryan started to run towards it, but it sped off.
He stood in the parking lot and watched the car drive into the horizon. He stood there, his mind replaying Brendon climbing into the car and driving away forever, until Pete came out and steered him back the car.
They drove. They turned up the music to fill the void of Brendon’s chatter. Ryan’s voice nearly stopped working. He tired to fill his thoughts with Keltie, who he decided was close. They discovered two pairs of sunglasses in the back seat. They had yellow lenses, and turned everything pink.
Part III
Pete lit a cigarette and said, “Oh, by the way Ryan, my headlights don’t work.”
“What?” Ryan looked over in shock. “What?”
“Yeah. Broken. Won’t turn on. At all. Ever.”
“You’re just telling me this now? This means we can’t drive at night!” Ryan cried, distraught.
“Sorry, man. Forgot.”
“Well, fuck, we’ll stop somewhere and get them fixed. I’ll pay.”
“Whatever, man. I bet your balls they can’t be fixed.”
Ryan stared out the window for a while longer, keeping his eyes peeled for an auto repair shop. “Don’t you have any music?” he finally asked, picking up a box of cassettes and reading the titles. “I’ve never even heard of these bands. Do they still play?” He tried to remove “MURDER BY DEATH - wolfe” from its slot but dropped the entire case.
“Shit,” Pete said bluntly, glancing over. “Whatever falls under that seat, forget about it. It’s gone.”
“What do you mean? Is there a hole or something?” Ryan picked up his feet and looked at the floor, concerned for his safety.
“A black hole, yeah. Bermuda Triangle. Anything that goes under there never comes back up.”
Ryan put down his feet again and frowned at Pete, who acted as if it wasn’t a big deal. Then Ryan looked down at the middle console, and spotted another tape. “FALL OUT BOY - GIN JOINTS”
“What’s this?” he asked, sliding the tape into the player.
“Uh, my old band. Had it in my pocket when I offed,” Pete sounded incredibly sad, and Ryan suppressed his urge to ask questions.
“I like it,” Ryan tried to sound soothing.
Pete stayed silent, and Ryan noticed his hands shook as he lit a cigarette.
After several hours, a sign caught Ryan’s eye. “Mikey’s Repair Shop. Pull in over there.” Pete obliged, grumbling the entire time about wasting money.
A short, heavily tattooed man greeted them as they got out of the car “Hi! I’m Frank.” He shook hands with them both before asking Pete, “What can I do for you?”
He looked over, arching his eyebrows questioningly when Ryan spoke. “Uh, yeah, I wanna get the headlights checked out.”
Frank nodded and clapped his hands. “Alright. Just pull ‘er in and we’ll take a look.”
They were introduced to Mikey, the owner, and watched in silence as the duo took apart Pete’s car. After awhile, Pete nudged Ryan and walked further out into the driveway.
“You see that taxi?” Pete nodded to a black sedan that had TAXI crudely spray painted on the side.
“Yeah...” Ryan acknowledged, slightly afraid for where this was going.
“Check out the driver. What nationality is he?”
Ryan squinted. “Arab?”
“Bingo. Arabs? Motor Vehicles? Doesn’t that freak you out, man?”
This was as bad as Ryan feared. “Whatever, man, we all died and now we’re dead. He’s not going to try anything.”
“But he’s been staring at me the entire time.”
“Uh, maybe because you keep staring at him and he thinks you need a taxi.”
Pete eyed the car suspiciously before following Ryan back into the shop. Frank and Mikey’s heads were close together and they were whispering madly. Pete gave Ryan an ‘I-told-you-so” look and Ryan frowned.
“Alright, so, we have no idea what’s wrong,” Frank finally announced. “But we’ll work on it as soon as the sun rises. Promise. We can call you guys a cab if you’d like.”
Pete immediately shot down the cab. “We’ll just sleep in the car.”
“Like fucking rockstars.” Pete seemed excited to be sleeping in the car. Ryan rested his head against the window and sighed. He tried to imagine where Keltie was right now. What she was doing. Who she was doing it with. His heart twinged. He counted backwards from 100 several times, and finally drifted to sleep to the rhythm of Pete’s snores.
Ryan’s first and only thought when he woke up was oh dear god too bright oh god. He fumbled for Pete’s sunglasses, and promptly dropped them. “Shit.” He swore, leaning back against the seat. He wanted to go to sleep again, but his back was protesting his “mattress.” Pete stirred awake and swore. “Where are my goddamn sunglasses?” He asked.
“Dropped them.” Ryan mumbled, aware of the sun beating through the windshield. His body recalled the distant memory of how it filled his body with warmth and comfort. Now there was no effect.
“Ryyyan,” Pete whined. “Be careful, dude.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Shit. I gotta piss.” Ryan grunted half-heartedly. He opened the door, and cried out as he fell several feet to the ground.
“What the hell, guys?” Ryan called, squinting over Frank and Mikey.
Mikey greeted him with, “Good morning!”
Pete jumped down from the car and landed in a crouch. Ryan thought he heard him hiss, but Pete stood up and acted as though nothing unusual had happened.
“Your headlights are pure fucking evil.” Frank shouted from under the hood. “I have no idea what’s wrong with them, so fixing them is a problem.” He emerged, his face covered in grease smudges. “If you guys give us another day, we’ll have them working. Promise.”
Ryan glanced at Pete, who was shaking his head. “Told you so.”
They thanked the mechanics for their efforts, paid them for labour and hit the road again.
Ryan was lost in a memory of him and Keltie. It was the day they visited Ellis Island. Keltie had worn a flowy skirt and smiled all day.
“Are you asleep?” Pete asked after awhile, poking Ryan. “You’re missing a lot of beautiful shit.” Ryan huffed and squinted out the window at the burned-out RVs and torn couches that scattered the landscape.
“I’m never forgiving you for losing my shades.” Pete sighed, and Ryan struggled to form a response. He was starting to really sympathize with his friend, considering his eyes were starting to ache.
Ryan glanced ahead and noticed the person walking on the side of the road. He was wearing a lavender hoodie. He glanced behind him and jutted out his thumb.
“He’s got a Goonies backpack.” Ryan pointed out as they got closer. Pete immediately pulled into the shoulder, sending dirt flying everywhere and making Ryan cry out.
The man jogged up to the passenger window. “Where are you guys going?” he asked as soon as Ryan rolled down the window.
“Eastish,” Pete replied.
“Do you have any sort of... destination?” He asked hopefully.
“Not really,” Ryan glanced at Pete. “Just driving, for now.”
The hitchhiker considered for a moment, and then climbed into the backseat. “I’ve been hitchhiking since I got here.”
“You can’t have been here long, then,” Pete said, glancing in the rear-view.
“I haven’t. I’m looking for the People in Charge.”
“Why? I don’t think it really works like that,” Pete frowned at the rear-view mirror. “It’s like. When you were alive, did you ever go looking for God?”
“Well, no,” The boy popped a piece of gum into his mouth. “But I didn’t exactly have a reason to back then.”
“I’m sorry, but I still don’t get it. I mean you killed yourself, right? Why would you want to go back if there’s a reason you left?”
Ryan watched the boy shift uncomfortably and grip his bag. Ryan cut Pete off and asked the boy his name.
“Brendon.” He sounded relieved at the subject change. “What’s yours?”
Ryan nodded. “I’m Ryan.” Ryan looked over at Pete, and finally said “This is Pete,” after it became clear Pete had no interest in being civil.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Brendon replied.
“So, you’re trying to go back? You don’t like it here?” Ryan tried to approach the matter more gently.
“Um, seriously? Do you guys like it here?” Brendon asked incredulously. Ryan turned and stared out the windshield, defeated. “Who the hell would like a place where you can’t even smile?” Brendon deplored. “Everything’s so fucking bland, and everyone hates it. I just want to go home.”
Ryan had to agree.
Ryan suggested they invest in a tent, because he refused to sleep in the car again. They found a roadside store. There was a ratty tent set up in the yard, and they decided it was as good as any. Pete stayed by the car while Ryan paid, and Brendon wandered around the lot. After the cashier had left, Ryan watched Brendon subtly rip off a sign. Ryan looked questioningly at Brendon, who simply drifted back to the car, acting completely innocent.
They later burned the sign that Brendon stole. It read SHOPLIFTERS WILL BE SEVERLY PROSECUTED. They lay around the campfire, and Ryan watched sparks dance up to what he suddenly realise was a starless sky.
“I wonder if people who die normally end up without the stars.” Brendon said regretfully. “I miss them.”
“You get used to it.” Pete said, mournfully.
“I don’t want to get used to it!” Brendon cried, sitting up. “I want to go home. This guy I got a ride with the other day said I had a really good case. He said the People in Charge wear white outfits. And another guy said that he heard that the P.I.C. never died, they’ve simply been here the whole time.”
“Whatever.” Pete shook his head. “What is your case, by the way? Why do you think you’re special?”
Ryan frowned at Pete and wondered why he was so worked up about this.
“I’m not supposed to be here.” Brendon said simply, standing up and disappearing into the tent.
“In happier news,” Ryan announced, trying to lighten the mood. “I’ve got a hunch that Keltie’s close.”
Ryan had been dealing with flashback to days with Keltie since he got there, and suddenly they hit even harder. More intimate moments, more often. His heart ached. The more they drove, the worse he felt. He needed to find her, and fast. They started stopping in at every town, every gas station, Ryan asking about Keltie and Brendon about the People in Charge. Neither of them were ever successful. One cop tried to tell Brendon that what he was doing was illegal, and Ryan dragged Brendon away immediately.
They watched new parachuters fall to the ground. They stopped at rivers and went swimming. They drank. They made up stories and did the best they could to distract themselves from their currently fruitless quests. Ryan was still miserable. Brendon took to pulling the corner of his lips up to create a smile. Ryan tried to smile naturally, once. He barred his teeth instead, and it was the first time he realised how much he missed grinning.
They made up nicknames for each other. Ryan became Ryro, and Brendon changed into B-den. They often added “Pan” after Pete.
They lost too many items to count down the black hole. They bought groceries and lame novelty items. Ryan spent a lot of his time watching Brendon. They all learned the words to “Gin Joints.” They passed by trash piles and burnt out buildings. They passed a tire fire. Ryan missed The Simpsons, and wondered if the environment mattered here.
Pete eventually bought new shades, which Ryan dropped. “Dude, are you doing that on purpose?” Pete sighed, and Ryan apologised, half-heartedly. He was starting to feel too worn down to really do anything. He missed Keltie.
Brendon suggested they stop in at a diner. The lukewarm coffee helped Ryan feel a bit better. Brendon chatted with other patrons and Ryan watched him write something on a sign.
“So,” Brendon sighed, sitting down in their booth. “You guys really are going nowhere, aren’t you?”
Ryan was stunned. “Well...”
“We’re just waiting until we find his girl,” Pete shrugged.
Brendon shook his head and frowned. “Well, then, I guess this is as good a time as any to part ways. Thank you for taking me this far, good gentlemen!” He shook their hands, grabbed his bag, and walked out the front door. Ryan sat, completely paralyzed for a moment, before he ran out the door behind Brendon. He glanced around the parking lot and watched Brendon climb into a silver sedan, and Ryan started to run towards it, but it sped off.
He stood in the parking lot and watched the car drive into the horizon. He stood there, his mind replaying Brendon climbing into the car and driving away forever, until Pete came out and steered him back the car.
They drove. They turned up the music to fill the void of Brendon’s chatter. Ryan’s voice nearly stopped working. He tired to fill his thoughts with Keltie, who he decided was close. They discovered two pairs of sunglasses in the back seat. They had yellow lenses, and turned everything pink.
Part III