Depths (10 page)

I touched the bottom of the sink again and felt
around until my fingers settled on something small and hard. It was
kind of jagged at one end.

What the hell is that?

I took my hand out of the water, soap running down
my arm to my elbow, and held the thing up in front of my face.

A tooth.

I dropped it into the sink and reeled backwards, my
stomach dropping.

...cheek bones extending outwards, my forehead
broadening, grabbed my head, trying futilely to push my features
back into place. Another tooth clinking onto the tile...

The dream blared into my mind, the
memory of my forehead stretching and broadening... I could
feel
it.

I hurried back to the sink and fumbled for the drain
plug but something brushed against my hand in the water.

Just ignore it, get the plug and get out...

It felt like hair.

Just grab the fucking plug and GET OUT.

There it was. I grabbed it and pulled. The suction
made my arm jerk backwards as the plug came out, splashing soap in
my eyes.

“
Dammit!
”
I said out loud, throwing the plug at the counter, trying to
wipe the soap out of my already burning eyes, before realizing that
wiping soapy water into my eyes with my hand
wouldn
’t help. I felt around, blindly for
the towel I had set on the counter.

Crumbs, crumbs, water,
crumbs
…
Found it.

The drain made a gargling sound as the last of the
water flowed down the pipes. I dried my hands on the towel, and
they shook as I wiped my eyes free from dish soap.

I blinked. No
…
No, no no. Just because I felt it, doesn
’
t mean it
’
s real
…

I blinked again but it was still there; a matted a
clump of black hair slowly circling around the drain, stopping just
before the edge. Little soap bubbles glistened off the tangled
mess.

It
’
s not
real, it
’
s not real...

I clenched my eyes shut, repeating the line to
myself, hoping that when I opened them the hair would be gone.

Reluctantly, I opened my eyes back up. No clumps of
hair to be found in the sink. I braced myself on the counter with
my arms and let my head fall into them.

You're just tired. Take a shower and get some
rest.

That thought sounded good. I needed sleep
desperately.

I am not easily understood. This I
know. I have a hard time understanding myself sometimes.
Most
of the time. My
thoughts constantly jump and jumble and interweave into one
continuous mess of words. There are very few things that I am
certain of. But being difficult to understand... That I
am
certain of. What am I
trying to say? I don't know anymore.

The water coursed its way from the top of my head
down to my feet. I could feel each exquisite droplet rolling down
my body, slowly working their magic and pulling the aches from deep
within my muscles. I exhaled and took in a deep breath.

This must be what breathing for the first time feels
like.

Lung tissue swelling with oxygen, head clearing as
each molecule saturated my lungs with sweet, sweet air. A temporary
relief from infinite insanity.

Told ya you just needed a shower...

Something my head and I agreed on.

My eyes opened and I looked at the palms of my
hands. I don't know why, but I just stared at them for a moment. I
dropped them to my side and stood there with my head bowed under
the water.

I
want
it to end.

I need sleep.

I need to get out of the shower.

I
need
it to end.

My day was already a blur in my
memory. There wasn't one thing in particular that I could remember.
I know I woke up early, left my house and now I'm here. I am
here
right?

Are you?

That wasn't reassuring.

I begrudgingly reached for the knob and turned the
water off. I could feel the droplets on my body, rapidly cooling on
my skin now that the steam was dissipating. I slid the glass shower
door open and stepped out. The tile chilled my feet.

I dried myself and ran a brush through my hair. It
was starting to get a little long. I needed a hair cut. I wiped the
steam from the mirror and I looked again at my face. Nothing was
different. No abnormally widened forehead, no bulbous nose or
slanted cheek bones. I even opened my mouth and checked to make
sure all my teeth were there. Not one was missing.

That was a little reassuring at least.

I exited the bathroom into my bedroom and it looked
normal too, everything in its proper place. I went to my dresser
and pulled out a pair of pajama bottoms and grabbed a plain white
t-shirt. I looked at my bed and it called for me, pleaded for me to
lie down, rest my head... Drift off to sleep. I promised it that I
would soon, but I was starving.

I walked down the hall, through my living room and
into my kitchen. The clock on the stove read 10:34 P.M. My stomach
growled in agony, I needed to eat. I couldn't even remember if I
had eaten at all the whole day. I opened the refrigerator,
clutching my stomach with my right hand and peered inside. I hate
it when there's a fridge full of food, but nothing to eat.

Off to the pantry next. Pancake
mix, various canned foods, chips, some flour and pasta noodles.
Hmm. Nothing too appetizing. I removed the flour from the front of
the cupboard and set it on the counter along with the chips and a
couple cans of soup or something, maybe there was something in the
back. I looked at one of the labels on the cans. Cream of mushroom.
I wrinkled my nose and sat it alongside of the chips. If that was
what I had at the front, then my hopes weren
’
t high for what
’
s in the back, but I
could be wrong.

Well look at that, squashed at the back was a bag of
bread. I could make a sandwich at least. Bread behind the chips.
Well, that shows just how often I make myself anything to eat. I
sat it on the counter next to the chips and went back to the
fridge.

There was some sliced turkey and
cheese in the little drawer inside. I don
’
t know what that little drawer was called. Damn. I really
should eat the food I have at home instead of grabbing fast
food.

Meat, cheese, mayonnaise, mustard. Sandwich. That
actually wasn't too bad. I thought it would take longer for some
reason. I reached to the cupboard to get a plate. I grabbed one,
but when I brought it down I knocked the bag of flour over,
spilling it all across the floor. At least I would have an excuse
to clean it. I don't think I had done that in awhile.

I bent down to pick the bag up
and
—

“
You
’
re coming with me.
”

A
steely
, ice-cold voice. Familiar... My
voice.

He grabbed me with both hands by my head and yanked
me up from the floor, forcing me to look him directly int he eyes.
Nothing but blackness stared back at me. My kitchen began fading,
my sink, refrigerator.... Blackness swallowed them up into snaking
tendrils, the room shook and he squeezed my head harder. My vision
quaked as everything else was enveloped in darkness. A darkness
blacker than black.

And then there was....

Nothing....

Nothing
existed
…
.

It was just nothingness....

And cold....

Just....

Still....

The diner was unusually crowded. People were
chatting and the waiters and waitresses were bustling about,
grabbing plates from one table, delivering appetizers to another.
It was a long drive to such a mediocre place, but this is where he
wanted to meet.

Charles Green sat across from me,
lazily chewing on a piece of chicken-fried steak. How could he even
eat that? Grease pooled underneath the meat on his plate, and more
oozed out of it as he cut into it with his knife. He was
relishing
it though.
Whatever suited him I suppose. I was at his mercy for him even
agreeing to meet me in the first place.

I looked at my plate, a half-eaten
cheeseburger and stale fries growing steadily colder. I didn't have
much of an appetite. I took another sip of my
water
—
probably tap
water
—
and looked back at Charles. While he
was clearly savoring his meal, he didn't seem to have the same
affection towards me.

“
Thank
s for this,
”
I said, feeling more and more awkward the more he
stared at me.

He nodded without saying a word cut another piece of
steak and popped it into his mouth. He chewed it slowly, not
breaking his gaze, swallowed with a gulp and wiped his hands off on
a napkin. I think that was the first time he took his eyes off me
this whole time.

“
I'm not doing this for
you
,
”
he started, stopping to finish the last bit of
food in his mouth before continuing,
“but
I know you can take care of her and that she needs that right
now.
”

The words were reluctant to leave his lips, like
they were desperately trying to stay inside in his mouth before
being forcefully expelled, spitefully and ungracefully. I wasn't
exactly thrilled about this turn of events either, but at least I
hid it better than he did.

“
So yes, I'll talk to her. I'll
let you know what she says. We're done here.
”

He wiped his mouth off with the napkin and left the
table.

It was sunny outside but there was a slight breeze.
Charles leaned against my car with his arms crossed. As goofy as he
looked in those damn glasses, he still intimidated me. After I got
in my car and unlocked his door, he got in, buckled himself and
stared blankly out his window.

I started the car and backed out of the parking
spot, unfortunately catching his eye when I turned to look behind
me.

There wasn
’
t much traffic which was nice at least. Not only was the
diner way out of the way, I had to pick him up and drop him off at
his house.

I wanted to say something, anything, just to break
the quiet but there was nothing more to say. Besides, I don't think
my voice would have pierced the tension in the air.

We drove and drove and drove until
he finally said,
“
It's over here on the
right.
”

I put on my blinker and turned
into the parking lot. Some diner stood out in the center of the
lot, a big pink neon sign jutted off the roof spelling out
“
Peggy's Diner.
”
Looked
tacky in the day time, it was probably worse at night.

It hardly seemed worth the drive, but this is where
he wanted to go. Fair enough.

We got out of the car, not saying a word to each
other, and walked in. The diner was busy; patrons were talking, the
waiters and waitresses were hurrying from table to table, taking
orders, refilling drinks, and busting tables so the next group
could be seated.

We were sat at the back of the diner near a big
window. The sun shone through and hurt my eyes a little. He sat on
the other side of me, granting him some shade from the glare of the
sun, but I didn't complain. I was at his mercy since he even agreed
to meet me in the first place.

I opened my menu, not really caring what I was going
to eat, I didn't have much of an appetite.

Without looking from his menu, and
without a hint of genuine care in his voice he said,
“
The chicken-fried steak is good
here.
”

Like he actually cared.

The waitress came to our table. She was pretty.
Slim, blonde hair, friendly face, and her uniform complimented her
figure nicely.

“
And what'll we be havin'
today?
”

The fake enthusiasm was far too transparent.

“
I'll have the New York steak,
medium rare with a baked potato and an ice tea to drink
”
said Charles.

Fucker had to go and get the most expensive thing on
the menu since I was the one who would end up paying.

“
OK,
”
as
she wrote down his order,
“and for
you?
”

“
The chicken-fried steak please.
French fries on the side and I'll stick with water to
drink.
”

“
Coming right up!
”

She took our menus and disappeared
into the kitchen which was right across from us. Charles looked up
at me, his eyes magnified behind thick-
rimmed glasses.

I would have been more comfortable giving a speech
in front of Congress.

“
So,
”
he
intensified his gaze,
“what would you have
me do?
”

I knew exactly what I wanted him to do, but I
couldn't find the words. Those damn eyes...

“
I need to talk to her and we
didn't leave on the best terms, and she always listens to
you
—”
begging, I was actually begging him
for help
“—
I was hoping... Maybe you could
talk to her, and just... Just see if you could convince her to talk
with me.
”