Boy Upstairs::
: razz rologue
Breaking dishes echoed hollowly into my small room. I tried to ignore them by reading my favorite vampires series, but even that wasn’t working very well. I sighed and sat up, tossing the book onto the end of my bed, not really caring that the bookmark slipped out and fell between the crack of my bed and the wall; lost forever in a void of dirty socks and math homework.
They were always fighting. Dad was always drunk, mom always broke. Kimmy was always gone, if not then the center of unneeded attention. And I was always alone, left to listen to it all through a screen of tears and screams. But one thing was for sure:
They were always fighting.
I closed my eyes and laid back on my blue pillow, trying to sleep through the argument going on down the hall, wondering if he could hear it upstairs. He probably could, and that’s probably why he looked at me a lot like he thought I was a broken toy.
“Just get out! Get the hell out!” My mom yelled as my dad’s heavy drunken footsteps pounded to the door, slammed shut. Then silence. Mom started sobbing, making me feel like her tears were making the air humid. This happened every time, without fail. If I really wanted, I could more than likely time it on a stop watch with all the right crashes and screams on que.
With a loud squeak, I heard the window in the apartment upstairs open and my heart lifted if only for a slight moment. I always kept my window open at night when I know he’s home. He strummed a few different chords like always to warm up before starting to practice his songs. It was easier to ignore mom’s cries with his music soothing me.
As usual, I started singing along. I knew his lyrics by heart, since I had written them, though he didn’t know that. He had put a want ad in the school newspaper for a lyricist to write him a song to perform in the school talent show. I didn’t want him to know it was me…so I slipped it into his locker as anonymous, and lucky me, he chose my lyrics. But of course, he had no idea it was his next door neighbor.
I fell asleep to his picks and strums of patient practiced guitar, like I did every night.
::Chapter One
School is probably the most useless thing in the world. We don’t want to learn trigonometry or how to correctly use “who” and “whom”. It’s never going to help those of us who will end up flipping burgers the rest of our lives because we have no talent to get scholarships or a rich uncle. The only good thing about school was the fact that Dominic was in half of my classes.
I nervously smoothed my shirt over my stomach, such a terrible nervous habit when I didn’t like it fitted perfectly to my body anyway. Early as always, I doodled in my notebook, trying to find a way to distract me from watching the door. I traced the stars and name over and over again until the ink was deep into a couple of pages.
“Wow, awesome drawing.” He said, making me drop my pen onto the floor. He picked it up, grinning that stupid grin of his behind dark sunglasses, and offered it to me. “You should really become an artist.”
He sat down in the desk against the wall, next to mine, mindlessly running his hand through his black bangs that hung perfectly in front of his eyes. He was wearing black skinny jeans, his old worn velcro shoes, and his homemade tee shirt for his band.
“Ha. Doodling does not make you a professional artist. What’s up with the sunglasses?” I asked, shoving my notebook under my English text book.
“Sure it can! You could design epic cover art and merchandise for my band.” If only he knew what I did for his band. He pulled out his own sticker covered notebook and flipped it to a page with a taped in note, my lyrics, and scribbled out some chords he had written above the chorus and wrote some new ones.
I didn’t say anything in response, only continued to doodle on a corner of the notebook sticking out.
“Maybe it would actually get more people to listen to my music.” He laughed.
“I listen to your music.” I blurted. He glanced up at me, a smile playing on his lips as the teacher started class.
“My. Wanna-Be-Rock-Star,” the teacher said in a very mocking tone towards Dominic. His hand jerked away from his lyric page, probably thinking the teacher would take away the notebook. “Sunglasses are against school policy, as you know this.”
Dominic just stared at the teacher and I wondered if he had even heard what was said. Slowly, his hand reached up to take off his sunglasses. He looked towards the wall. I leaned forward to try and see what he was hiding, but he kept me from seeing. I thought that was odd, he usually wouldn’t hide from me like that, even if we were just simply friends. I turned back to the teacher, trying not to wonder too much about it. At the end of lectures and class, the glasses shot back on and he gave me a quick “Bye” and darted out of the room.
Out in the hall, I pulled out my phone to see a couple missed calls from my mom. She didn’t understand the concept of texting and sometimes was the reason I got my phone confiscated in class. While switching out text books from my book pack and locker, I listened to the voicemail. My stomach twisted into bigger and deeper knots with every word she said. Family Dinner. I hated when we has so called “family dinners”. We weren’t a family, and we couldn’t cook worth crap. Or get along. Or give compliments. Or get through the entire thing without yelling and tears.
I felt like I was going to heave. “Screw chemistry…” I muttered and headed out of the school, walking briskly in the chilly morning to the baseball fields. It was where I could think, freeze, and then not think anymore. My sanctuary. No one was out there, but you could smell that the stoners had been there for first hour. I sat down in the home team dugout, leaning back against the wall and hugging myself for warmth, and imagined the perfect family dinner.
Mom would cook all evening after work, baking a casserole, a roast, and enough vegetables to feed an army, because she would want her children healthy and strong. Dad would come home, kiss mom like people in love and whisper a “hello, I love you” and ask fro my to help him set the table. He would ask how my school day was, ask me if my homework was done and if I needed help, and give me fatherly advice about Dominic. Kimmy would come home from work and tell us about her day giving speeches at schools about staying drug free. We’d eat and laugh and eat some more until we were so full it hurt to laugh. Then we’d pop some popcorn, even though stuffed, and sit down to watch a movie that would—
“You look like you’re in a trance.” A voice yanked me from my day dream. I looked up to see Dominic, his glasses still framing his eyes darkly, his hands shoved in his pockets.
“No. Yeah. I… Sorry, didn’t hear you coming.” I shuffled my feet in the red dirt, trying to ignore the fact that he interrupted my day dreaming so abruptly.
“Are you skipping class as well?” He walked around the fence and sat down next to me, spreading his legs across the cement.
“I was going to try out for the baseball team, it’s my dream in life to be Babe Ruth, but I guess they cancelled tryouts.” I said casually, making him laugh. “Actually, I got some bad news from my mom, in a way, so I didn’t want to sit through another one of Mr. West’s lectures.” I willed myself not to move, I didn’t want him to think I was trying to move closer to him or anything like a crazy love struck teenager. I wasn’t love struck. I just had something in common with him, even if he didn’t exactly know.
He sighed and took off his sunglasses, keeping his face tilted away from me like he did in class. “Family issues. Oh so much fun.”
I tried to laugh a little and he glanced over at me for a second before realizing I was waiting to catch a glimpse of his face. A dark purple line circled his eye and part of his cheek bone, swollen with little shades of green around the edges.
“Holy s**t Dom! What happened to your eye?” I sat up as he turned away from me. I reached over and grabbed his chin, making him turn to look at me. His glasses had barely covered the bruise and with his luck, every single teacher at school wouldn’t allow him to wear them anymore during class.
“Oh… It’s just…” He looked at me, trying to will a message to me through his dark eyes, but they were too cloudy to make anything clear. “An accident…” I could tell he was lying, but he wasn’t about to tell me the truth either. So, I settled with changing the subject.
“Have you written any new songs lately?” I let go of his chin, sitting back against the cold bricks, comfortably closer to him.
“Yeah, the mystery man dropped off some more lyrics Friday so I’ve spent all weekend trying to pluck out some decent chords.” He reached into his worn out backpack and pulled out my note I slipped into his locker next week.
I took the page from him and re-read the lyrics I had read a thousand times while writing. “I think she,” I caught myself, “He… Whoever it may be, wrote them beautifully. It must’ve taken them a long time.” I set the paper back down on his leg. Before I could retrieve my hand, he put his on top of it. Squeezing gently but not daring to look at me.
“Your hands are cold.” He stated, completely covering mine with his. I didn’t move; just let my insides flip over and over until they were dizzy. He finally asked in a soft voice. “Do you think those could be true?”
“What, the lyrics?”
“Yeah.” He sighed and moved his other hand under mine, linking his fingers with mine. His hands were calloused from playing so much guitar over his life. “Being able to run away someday with someone you think you love to get away from all your problems.”
“I really wish it was possible.” I leaned my head on his shoulder. I wanted to ask him how he felt about me. I had always wanted to, but I never could get the question out. I asked a different one instead. “Who would you run away with?”
He was silent for a very long time. Suddenly, his hand didn’t seem to be holding mine like mine was his, it was just sitting in a ball with mine. “Probably Cenzy. She’s been my friend for a long time and she’s pretty.”
I sat there for a moment, wondering why he didn’t choose me. We’d known each other for longer. I carefully unlinked my fingers from his and put my hands in my own lap. “Oh…”
He stood up, brushing off the red dust, and offered me a hand. “We should get to gym.”
I stared at his hand for a while. “I’m actually not feeling well, I think I’m going to go home and take a sick day.”
He looked at me like I was lying, but my stomach grumbled unhappily just in time to convince him I was at least in need of some good food to make me feel better. “How about this? I’ll take you to get some really cheap fast food, and you at least attend last hour since we have that huge test and I can’t concentrate when my friend isn’t there?”
I thought it over in my mind. It was certainly better that going home to spend “quality time with mom”. I stood up, not taking his hand for assistance, and slung my bag over my shoulder. “Deal.”
::Chapter Two
Tin Bar was almost right in the between our apartment building and the school. They kicked minors out when it got too late in the evening to serve much more than beer, but during the day, it was the place to skip. The owner didn’t like cops very much so they were never in there to bust skippers like us and mark us truant or get us suspended. We sat in the corner table, our favorite, and shared a shake and fries. He wanted to quiz me on the test we’d be taking soon, I wanted to just listen to him talk about his plans for the future, even if I had heard them a million times.
“John will be back from this terms college in a month to be our drummer again. Then Ashlynn is going to try doing keys for us, but I’m still not sure if I want that sound in the band. And then, of course, Taco is still blaring the bass for us.”
I nodded, dipping a fry into the chocolate M&M shake and eating it. I wanted to volunteer as a backup vocalist, but I doubted he would ever agree to that.
“We finally have a band name picked out, but divulging it would be a violation of my copyright.” He smiled and tossed a fry at me.
The fry bounced off my shoulder and back on the table. I chucked it back at him while laughing. I hadn’t laughed in a long time. He leaned back in the red booth, stretching his arms above his head. His shirt raised a couple of inches, exposing a dark bruise above his pelvis.
“What’s that?” I asked, my eyes glued to the injury.
He glanced down. “Oh, well this is the name for my band, guess the copyright spiel didn’t work.” He laughed. I didn’t.
I stood up and rounded the table to sit next to him. I carefully placed my hand on his stomach and he winced away, deeper into the booth.
“Oh… That…” His face dropped, no longer enjoying a good laugh. “Accident…” He lied.
I didn’t look away from his stomach, even though now it was covered with his shirt. “Dom, were you in a fight?” I whispered.
“Not… Exactly.” He lifted my chin so I wasn’t looking any more. “I’d prefer you didn’t see my war wounds.”
I knew he meant it jokingly, but I couldn’t help but reach over and take off his sunglasses. His bruised eye looked worse and skeletal. His face looked twisted in a memory. Finally he shrugged. “I’ve had far worse, Rae.”
I crossed my hands, with his sunglasses, over my lap and starred at the white table. He never talked about having enemies or people that needed to settle a score with him. I’d never seen a bruise that wasn’t accidental, seriously accidental, on his skin before. Sure he got beat up a lot while attempting to skateboard with his cousin, but nothing like this.
“Hey now…” He set his hands over mine and squeezed them. “As long as I’m breathing, I’ll be fine.”
I nodded silently, assuring myself he was alright and not lying. Hesitantly, I linked my fingers with a few of his. He smiled and put his cheek against my forehead. I tilted my head up, our lips inches apart, when his watch went off. He smiled sadly and pulled away.
“Ready for the test?” He asked.
I realized when I got home that maybe we should’ve studied at the Tin Bar, because dad wouldn’t be very pleased with the call home saying “Your child has missed one or more classes today” along with my grade dropping to a C-.
Mom was on the phone when I got home, making it easy to slip past her to my room and change clothes. I put on black sweats I got in Yellowstone, from the only family vacation we ever went on, and a red tee-shirt from school supporting the cheer squad, compliments of the perfect sister. Whenever my mom was awake enough to see me off to school, she would make me change my band tee’s to the cheer tee’s. Little did she realize, I never came home wearing them; I always switched out.
“Honey!” My mom’s voice hollered down the hall to my room. “Can you come do the dishes so we can eat dinner tonight?”
I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair angrily. Mom never did dishes or any house work, but she did tend to take all the credit for it. I walked to the kitchen slowly, dragging my feet, to find a huge pile of dishes. “Oh, and can you please sweep, vacuum, and scrub down the table and stove dear?” Mom asked from her spot on the couch as she watched the Ellen show.
I tried hard not to let her see how absolutely pissed off I was at her and let my thoughts wander…
To Dominic. I imagined us running away somewhere West, like Oregon or Washington. By the coast in a beach house that saw equal amounts of rain and sun. He’d become locally famous with his music. I’d be his lyricist and artisan for the band that would soon after that become nationwide famous. We’d travel all over with the band, playing and jamming and enjoying the easy, family free, life.
Before I knew it, I had cleaned everything and was accepting take-out Chinese food right before dad got home.
“What’s for dinner? Anything that will mix well with Vodka?” He boomed, throwing his dirty shirt on the floor, sitting at the table and propping his muddy shoes up onto the table full of food. I wanted to push his disgusting self away from the table and onto the floor. Even if mom had taken the precious time to clean the house for her husband, he didn’t appreciate any of it. He would probably put his muddy shoes on the President’s desk and not give a rats a**.
“Howard, how was work?” Mom stood, hustling over to the table to help him with his shoes and serve him food. They always called each other by formal name, never anything with meaning like ‘love’ or ‘baby’.
“Some people don’t know how to mind their own business. That Trisha chick was all over me today in her skimpy mini skirt and low cut.” He scooped up a huge bite of Kung Pao chicken and ate it.
I held two different boxes in my hand, contemplating if I wanted the Shrimp and Broccoli or the Szechuan Shrimp more. I didn’t want them to start fighting, but glancing up at dad’s eyes I saw he didn’t mind Trisha’s business at all.
“Did you report her?” Mom asked, taking a step back, giving him the evil eye.
“I took care of it.” He grumbled through half chewed chicken.
“Did you report her, Howard.” Mom demanded, her fists clenching into white balls.
He rolled his eyes at her, obviously saying that he didn’t. Mom slammed her hand on the table, making the crack ring through the apartment. They started yelling at each other.
“Stop it!” I yelled, grabbing the Szechuan Shrimp and a fork and running from the apartment. They didn’t stop as I bounded down the steps and wandered around the parking lot to find Dominic’s truck. By the time I found it and got into the passenger seat, my bare feet ached from the rough asphalt. I put them against the cool dashboard and leaned the seat back, trying hard not to cry and to just eat the shrimp. I stared at my knees, only listening for the door to slam that would mean dad had left for the night.
Someone slammed their fists on the hood of the truck, making me jump and drop my fork and the presently skewed shrimp to the dirty floor. It was Dominic. He rounded the side and got into the driver’s seat. “So, I’m sitting up in my room, strumming away on my guitar, when I see a shadowy figure in a cheer leading shirt get into my truck.” He laughed a little and looked over at me as I picked up my fork to glare at the brown shrimp. “What are you doing out here, Rae?”
I pinched my eyes closed, facing the window so he couldn’t see tears start to form. “Bad family dinner… I needed to get away for a moment…”
He reached over and set his hand on my arm. It was warm against my skin and I realized just how cold the cab was. “What happened?”
I shrugged, “The usual. Dad is a b***h, mom proves it, dad defends, they both yell.” I laughed shakily. “They should just get a divorce already…”
“You’d be surprised how much you’d miss the two of them together, Rae…” His hand left my arm and I turned over to look at him.
“I’m so sorry Dom…” Dominic’s mom passed away in a car accident a year ago. His parent’s fought like mine do, but I always felt stupid when I said thing that brought back those memories.
He smiled past wet eyes of his own. “It’s okay Rae, I know what you’re feeling.” He put his hands on the steering wheel. “Do you want to go somewhere, to be away from your family for a while?”
I nodded and opened the door to put the rest of the food on the ground. “Please.”
