On Love, and Life (After Death) - PART III

[truthtruthlie]

“Destroying that sign is a clear case of vandalism.” The officer responded, struggling with handcuffs.

“This is stupid! I’m just trying to make this place a little less depressing and you call it vandalism?   This is so dramatic, Jesus,” Brendon kept up a steady string on complaints as the cop tucked him into the cruiser.

Ryan jogged over.  “Excuse me, officer, what seems to be the problem?”

“This boy,” the cop tapped the hood of the car, “Destroyed public property.”  Ryan followed the cop’s stare to a sign that now read “DO     ENTER.”  “I’m afraid I’ll have to take him to the station for processing,” the cop said.

Ryan shook his head in disbelief.  “This is ridiculous.  I mean, do you remember what it was like the first few months you got here?  The whole no-smiling thing, everyone’s just, so worn down...  I mean, I can’t imagine he’s been here that long if he’s so desperate to change it...” Ryan trailed off once he noticed the officer’s eyes glaze over.

“I suppose I can let him go this time,” The officer sighed and opened the door.  “You best watch your behaviour, young man.”

The officer helped Brendon out of the car and removed the handcuffs.  “Of course, sir.  Sorry for the trouble,” Brendon sounded like a recording.  “It won’t happen again, sir.”

“Alright.”  The cop nodded and climbed into his car.  He sped off with the sirens blazing.

“You again,” Brendon squinted at Ryan through the cloud of dust that the cruiser had left behind.

“Hello,” Ryan replied.  He could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

“So much for going different directions, eh?” Pete announced his arrival, carrying bags of chips.  “Good to see you, Brendon.”  His tone was mischievous.

“Hello,” Brendon nodded.  They stood for a moment.  Pete lit a cigarette.

“The backseat’s still open,” Ryan said quietly, and Brendon looked up hopefully.

“That would be nice.”

“Ace,” Pete agreed.

They climbed back into the car, Pete gunned the engine, and they took off.  Then they heard a loud metallic screech.

“What was that?” Pete asked, checking the rear-view mirror.

“Ryan forgot to take out the gas pump.”  Brendon teased, turning back around from investigating the source of the noise.

Ryan slammed his head against the headrest and wanted to cry.  Brendon let out a whistle from the back seat and Pete muttered “You deal with this guy.”  Ryan looked over and watched a huge, blonde man stalk towards the car, and he looked angry.  He took the nozzle out of the car and showed it to Pete.  Ryan swore and climbed out of the car.

“Sorry, man.”

“Follow me,” the attendant sighed.  They walked into the store, Ryan on auto-pilot and apologising the whole way.

“Don’t worry about it, man!” The attendant, whose nametag read “BOB,” lightly hit his shoulder while climbing behind a counter.  “It happens all the time.  At least twice a week,” He pulled out a binder and flipped through sheets until he found a blank page.  “Fill this out, and no harm done.”

The first question was “What were you thinking at the time of the incident?”  Ryan had no idea what to write down, so he casually flipped back a few pages for inspiration.  He froze when he recognized the handwriting.  It read, “I spaced out because the guy at pump #3 looked so much like my ex-boyfriend.  God... Where is he?”

Ryan ripped the page out of the binder and ran.

“I found her!  She’s here!” he shouted, running to car.  Pete quickly rolled down the window. “Keltie!  It’s got her address and everything, right here.”

“Well hallelujah.” Pete looked toward the road, and back at Ryan.  “Let’s go find her, shall we?”

“You should buy her flowers, at least.” Brendon muttered quietly from the backseat.

“Did you see the flowers in there?” Ryan asked.

“Well, no, but I’m assuming they’re dead.  Which is why we buy a can of spraypaint, as well,” Brendon replied.

They spraypainted the flowers as they drove.  Ryan and Brendon had their torsos out of the car, and Brendon was holding the flowers while Ryan covered them in turquoise.  Brendon looked sad, and Ryan wanted to climb into the backseat and cuddle with him.  Instead, he focused on finally seeing Keltie.

They pulled into a duplex, and Ryan ran out of the car.  He knocked on the door and his heart sank when a man answered.

“Hi,” the words stuck in his throat.  “Is, uh, Keltie here?”

The men looked confused and asked, “Who?”

Now Ryan was confused.  “Uh, Keltie,” He tried.  “Blonde.  Skinny...”

“Oh!  The old tenant.  Yeah, she moved.  Don’t know where, man.  Sorry.”

“Oh, okay.  Sorry to bother you.”

“Good luck, kid.”

Ryan turned away and walked down the path, completely drained.

“Shit, what happened?” Pete asked as he approached.

Ryan climbed into the car and stared straight ahead.  “She moved.”

“Oh, Ryan.” Brendon sighed.  “I’m sorry.”

“No forwarding address?” Pete tried.

Ryan shook his head.  Pete sighed and wrapped his arm around Ryan.

“Let’s go get drunk,” he suggested.

He closed his eyes after that day, and rarely opened them again.  He needed to stop watching Brendon all the time.  In his dreams, he could be back with Keltie.

One day, Pete’s shouting from the front seat woke Ryan up.

“What, what?” Ryan panicked.

“Brendon made the headlights work.  He fucking hit a button and the headlights work.  Fuck!”  He pulled onto the shoulder and got out of the car.   “Fuck!”

Brendon followed him.  “Hooray?” He asked, confused.

Pete grabbed Brendon and kissed him full on the lips.  Ryan’s throat caught.  He laid back down and closed his eyes, and thought about Keltie.

Pete spent all his time turning the headlights on and off.  Ryan was tired but couldn’t sleep. “Do it again, Pete.” He dared from the backseat.  Pete did.  On and off.  Off and on.

“Pete!” Brendon cried, and Pete swore.  They drove off the road and crashed.  Brendon threw his door open first.

“What the fucking fuck!?” Ryan cried, getting out of the car and looking over at the hood, which was crushed and slightly smoking.  “What the fuck happened?” He pretended to not notice Brendon’s gaze fixed on him.

“Some asshole’s lying in the middle of the fucking road.”  Pete burst out of the car.  “Fuck!” He shouted and kicked a tire.

They grouped together and slowly creeped toward the figure, Pete swearing under his breath the entire time.  Brendon rested his hand on Ryan’s back and he leaned in closer on impulse.

Brendon asked, “Is she sleeping?” as they reached the figure.

Pete slowly stooped down to the figure.  “Hey.   Hey,” He said, poking her side.  “Hellllloooo,” he said, shaking her.

“Ah!” she cried, sitting up and shaking herself awake.  Pete jumped away quickly.  “Well, shit.” She sighed, brushing off her jeans and looked up at them.  “Must’ve dozed off.  Can I get a hand?”  She held out her hand, which was adorned with a fingerless leather glove.  Ryan instinctively grabbed it and pulled her up.

The woman looked over at their car.  She grimaced.  “Eee, sorry about that, folks.  Are you all okay?”

Pete looked and sounded hysterical.  “Yeah.  What.  What were you doing in the middle of the road?”

“Ah.  That I can’t explain,” she pursed her lips and focused on the ground.  She then looked back up at them and explained, “I’m looking for my husband, see, and it’s rather tiring.  Though why I chose the middle of the road, I can’t imagine.”  She shimmied again and brushed off the back of her pants.

They stood awkwardly for a moment, before the woman cocked her head and studied each of them individually.  “I’m Lindsey.  Shall we head back to my place?”

They grabbed their stuff and followed her to a house.  It reminded him of something Keltie’s niece drew them, with a red roof and green door and shuttered windows.  A sign on the door read “WELCOME HAPPY CAMPERS!”

“It’s not really a camp, though,” Lindsey informed them.  “Gerard, my husband, thought it would be ironic or something.  I don’t really think so.  But anyway, there’s no one really in charge.  Gerard and I make sure everything’s taken care of, but we’re not really bosses or anything.”  Lindsey chatted away as they entered the house.  She led them into a dining area, when Ryan noticed Brendon was no longer beside them.  He backtracked to find Brendon staring with wide eyes at a man on a chair.

“He was floating!” Brendon said, glancing over at Ryan.  “He was bouncing up and down in mid air!” Brendon cried, demonstrating the movement with his hand.

Ryan looked back at the man, who didn’t seem to be affected.

“Ah, don’t worry about that.”  Lindsey appeared beside them.  “Those things just happen, eh, Jimmy?”  Pete joined them as well.

“What things?  Miracles?” Brendon nearly shouted while Jimmy continued staring up at them.

“Sure,” Lindsey shrugged. “Minor stuff.  Changing something’s colour, floating...  Little insignificant things that have no real meaning.”

“Like fixing headlights?” Ryan suggested.

Lindsey asked what they were talking about.

“Jest before we got here, Brendon pushed a button and the headlights on Pete’s car started working again.”

“Yeah, but, that seems pretty significant to me,” Pete interjected.

“Well, I suppose,” Lindsey considered, “But it all depends on timing.  It doesn’t matter a whole lot of you crash into a hill soon after, hmm?”

Brendon went to reply, but stopped himself.  Pete frowned.   Ryan watched a red-headed girl leap and bound through the room, but stopped when Lindsey cried, “Ah!  Ashlee dear, we have some new guests!  Will you show them their rooms?”

Ashlee stopped dead in her tracks and tilted her head, causing a curtain of hair to cover her face.

“I’d do it myself, folks,” Lindsey sighed heavily.  “But I have business to attend to!  Husbands to find!”  She hurried past them into another part of the house.

Pete’s mouth fell open and his bag slid off his shoulder.  “Are you.  Ashlee Simpson?” he asked incredulously, staring at the girl.

“Oh my God,” Brendon muttered.   “You are.”  Ryan was confused, and watched Brendon and Pete look at each other with wide eyes.

“I haven’t the faintest idea who you are talking about,” Ashlee replied, still hiding behind her hair.  Her eyes were focused on something Ryan suspected none of them could see.  Then she blinked, brushed the hair out of her face and said cheerfully, “The tour!”

“Who is she?” Ryan asked quietly while he and Brendon were in line for dinner.  Ashlee was sitting on the couch, reading a magazine, and Pete was standing across the room, watching her.

Brendon didn’t pick up on the secrecy of the conversation.  “She’s Ashlee Simpson.  You know, Jessica’s little sister?  She was a singer.  I can’t believe she offed.”

Ryan watched Ashlee as Brendon waved Pete over to a table.  She briefly looked up from her magazine and met his eyes, so he looked away quickly.  Pete and Brendon talked in hushed tones, periodically looking over at Ashlee.

That night, Lindsey gathered them all around a projection screen in the back yard.  She clicked through a few pictures of people and places that meant nothing to Ryan.  Then she started talking.

“Once upon a time, there was a crooked tree, and a straight tree,” Click.  “And they grew next to each other.  Every day, the straight tree would look at the crooked tree...” Ryan looked over at Pete and Ashlee, who were sharing a bowl of porridge.  Click.  “He would say, ‘You’re cooked!  You’ve always been crooked, and you will continue to be crooked.” Click.  “But look at me, look at me!’ said the straight tree.  He said ‘I’m tall and I’m straight.’”

Click.

“And then one day, the lumberjacks came into the forest and looked around.  The manager in charge said ‘cut all the straight trees!’ and that crooked tree-“Click. “-Is still there to this day, growing strong, and growing strange.” Ryan watched Brendon light a cigarette, and throw the match to the ground.  However, Brendon looked up, and Ryan had to suppress the urge to hold his hand.

-

Ryan noticed they were out of logs for the fire.  He climbed the stairs to the room where Lindsey slept.   He knocked and called out, “Lindsey, do you mind if I use your truck?”

The door opened wide.  “Of course not, Ry!” She said, holding a glass of lemonade and offering him a cookie off a China plate.    “What are you going to do with my truck?” She asked.

“We’re out of logs,” he said between bites of gingersnap.

“Oh!  Brilliant.  Why don’t you take Brendon with you?” She asked sweetly as she set the cookies down, reached behind the door and pulled Brendon into view.  He cried out in protest and tried to pull away from her, but she didn’t budge and continued to look at Ryan expectantly.

“Okay,” Ryan said, slightly confused.  Brendon was staring at Lindsey as if he was trying to communicate telepathically.  Lindsey gently pushed him into the hall and closed the door.  Ryan was aware of how close they were, and wasn’t sure what to do.

“Shall we?” Brendon asked, pushing past Ryan and heading down the stairs.

“It’s nice here, isn’t it?”  Brendon asked after awhile.  “At camp?”

It startled Ryan out of his thoughts, and he scrambled for a response.  “Yeah.  Lindsey’s stories are a riot,” was all he could come up with.

“She’s also a great listener,” Brendon replied.  Ryan fought back the urge to ask why Brendon hadn’t come to him first.

“Hey,” Brendon asked, after another period of silence.   He looked over at Ryan.   “Do you ever miss the things from before you offed?”

Ryan thought about it.  “No... I don’t really remember much anymore.” He realised.    “I think the only thing I miss is Keltie, I guess, and our life together.  Now that she’s here...  It’s the only thing I can think about.  How she used to make me feel, her laugh...” He suddenly felt very worn down.

Brendon started chewing a piece of gum and said, “I miss everything.  I miss my friends, I miss my dog...  I miss my family, my house... everything.  I even miss the things I hated at this point.”

Ryan spoke without thinking.   “It’s weird.  I had this dream the other night.  I woke up in the hospital, because my suicide didn’t work.  I didn’t die.  And, and...  I kind of just missed being here.  With you...” He panicked when he realised what he had just said, and quickly added, “...And Pete.”  He hadn’t even remembered having that dream until then.  Brendon fell silent.

They drove past a quarry awhile later, and spotted Pete and Ashlee down near the water.  They spied on them with binoculars, laughing at how obvious Pete was being and how well Ashlee was playing along.  They watched as Pete caught a fish and started to teach Ashlee how to gut it.

“Shit!” Brendon cried.  “He’s doing it!”

“Doing what?” Ryan asked, alarmed.  He tried taking the binoculars from Brendon, who wouldn’t give them up.

“He’s changing the colour of the fish!”

“Oh.  Like a miracle?” Ryan asked, wincing when he realized how harsh he sounded.

“Yes, like a miracle,” Brendon bit back.

“I still don’t understand them, or why you care.  It’s like you and the P.I.C.” Ryan sighed, rolling over and staring at the sky.

Brendon stood up abruptly and walked back to the truck.

“Brendon,” Ryan scrambled after him.  “I’m sorry.  Just.  You never explain anything, and.”

“Listen, asshole.” Brendon turned away from Ryan, and then turned back.  “I’m not supposed to be here.  I did not kill myself.  I...  I just od’d, okay?


Part IV