One Blink From Oblivion (3 page)

Vinny doesn’t notice any of this and continues on, “How the hell are we all supposed to fit in that thing? If everyone shows up there’s going to be at least eight of us, not counting Zack’s mutt.”

              Max’s familiarity with pit-bull fighting from his younger days with his father gave him a healthy respect for the larger more aggressive breeds, but mention of this canine in particular peaks his ire.

“Why does he bring that beast everywhere he goes? That fucker bit me last time. If it gets near me again Zack is gonna’ catch a boot up his ass.”

              The mental image of Max laying waste to Zack’s nether regions with a solidly planted Timberland leaves Vinny with a crooked grin creeping across his face.

Vinny says, “Ah man, if Cujo comes your way again you ain’t going to do shit but run like last time.” Vinny barely gets the words out through a hiccupping laugh as his vehicle rolls to a stop in an overgrown, unpaved, circular driveway in front of their destination.

As soon as Vinny puts the Audi in park, Brooke reaches down to open her door. Upon pulling the handle, the latch makes its –all too familiar- grinding sound.

Frustrated with the increasing dilapidation of Vinny’s car Brooke says, “Will one of you ladies please come around and open this door, it’s stuck again?”

Vinny quickly sets the parking-brake and exits the vehicle, checking twice to make sure he still has the keys in hand. He had always been easily distracted and too many times, he’d locked his keys in the car. Most times, he had to rely on Max’s knowledge of
grand theft auto
to retrieve them. Vinny would never admit it to Max but he was often envious of Max’s shady past and the street knowledge it afforded him. To Max it was an inescapable black cloud that frequently drizzled but occasionally poured on him, lest he forget where he came from. But to Vinny, Max’s mysterious bad-boy image was just one more reason why Max always peaked the interest of those around him. A fact that kept Vinny from getting as close to Brooke as he desired.

“I’m coming dearest,” Vinny yells as he awkwardly rounds the front of the dented and dirty Audi.

Vinny was more than six and a half feet tall and couldn’t have weighed more than 180 pounds soaked to his tighty whities. His patchy blonde hair was closely quaffed and coupled with his pale skin and raised cheekbones gave him a decidedly Arian look. His chosen outfit did little to improve his appearance since the sleeves of his blue striped polo shirt were an inch too short, and his wrangler jeans made him look like a city slicker impersonating a cowboy.

He reaches down with a thin lanky arm to open the door for Brooke from the outside, “My lady,” he says in his best English accent as he offers her a hand fitted with spindly but well manicured fingers to aid in her dismount.

Brooke, smiling up at him replies, “Why thank you kind sir,” in her own English accent and caps her exit from the heap with an impromptu curtsy.

Max -now standing at the trunk of the vehicle- calls to Vinny, “Hey Lancelot, do you think you could get your butt back here and help me with these bags?”

Taking note of the number of cars already parked in the driveway Max figures they are the last to arrive and is anxious to get inside and see their old school-buddies.

The sun is already setting and as they approach the porch, a light flicks on apparently triggered by a motion sensor. Loaded like a pack mule with almost all of the trio’s baggage, Max kicks the bottom of the door several times in lieu of knocking.

Vinny saddles up next to Max with one small bag and waits for the door to open. The two of them stand in stark contrast of each other. Max, at five feet eleven inches tall was a college football star. He was extremely fit and well toned with a dark golden patina and strong features. Today his fashion scheme is
comfort
, and he stands next to Vinny in black basketball shorts and a matching Under Armor brand shirt that clings to his well-formed chest and arms. Black Air Jordans in size twelve don his feet and add an inch to his overall height. In football’s off-season, he normally grew a short, well-maintained afro, though today his hair was cornrowed for the occasion. This particular style always made him a bit self-conscious but he treasured the time spent with his Grandmother while she caringly braided his hair- almost as much as she did. What she meant to him was immeasurable.

Big Mama had always been so proud of Max’s sense of self. She’d always feared that transferring Max from Van Nuys to Calabasas high school would result in culture shock, but he –as was his strength- adapted and found a way to fit in. Vinny had taken to Max right away and Big Mama was thankful to him for easing Max’s transition.

Her arthritic fingers worked away last night as she braided and reminded Max to be careful on his trip.

“Call me if you need anything,” she had told him. The reality that he was a grown man in his twenties could not change the fact that he would always be her baby.

***

While waiting for the -once decorative but now faded- oak door to open Max takes a step back and studies the structure. In a previous life, the cabin had no doubt been quaint and stylish. It had a steeply pitched A frame roof designed for sloughing off the snow, and a high triangular window near the peak to allow natural light inside. The body of the cabin was constructed of horizontal (tongue and groove type) split logs that were overdue for a refinishing. The logs had become so faded that they looked more akin to punk wood than pine, a state that most neglected log cabins eventually succumb to. The A frame did not touch the ground –as it does on some of the more extreme designs- but stopped about ten feet short to allow for an awning that almost spanned the entire circumference of the house. The awning was interrupted only once by a slatted porch cover that stretched another 8 feet beyond the face of the cabin. It covered them now.

Max cranes his head to get a better look at the eastern side of the cabin, the side closest to the densely populated woods. Movement in the woods draws Max’s attention and he catches a quick glimpse of something the size of a large dog hunched at the edge of the tree line. Max squints his eyes to better focus in the fading light and to his horror realizes that the creature in the trees is staring back at him with just as much intensity through hazy yellow and surprisingly humanlike eyes. Max initially assumes the creature to be Zack’s pet but…
the eyes,
Max thinks to himself,
are human.

Suddenly there’s a metallic grinding noise followed by a click and the cabin door swings open, momentarily drawing Max’s attention away from the beast in the tree line. Uneasiness and curiosity immediately return Max’s gaze to the trees in time enough to see the creature retreating into the woods with unnatural speed and agility considering its method of movement. It is running
backward
.

The doglike-humanlike thing is running backward on all fours with its head straight and yellow eyes still firmly affixed to Max’s. It seemingly avoids the obstacle course of trees without ever seeing them.

A coldness courses through Max’s body and before he can bring himself to speak, the creature is out of sight. As soon as the freakish visage is gone Max’s rational mind immediately attempts to rationalize what he thinks he’s seen,
a trick of diminishing light, probably a coyote… a very large coyote,
he thinks to himself
.
 

Back at the door a mousy little redhead who possesses very little in the way of a figure and even less of a face has answered Max’s knock. She wears a red tank top and tight little red shorts topped off with a red bow in her hair. The outfit is no doubt an attempt to compensate in the areas where she is lacking. The overload of red leaves Max feeling like he needs to adjust the color in his eyes.

Brooke greets her excitedly, “Sam, I missed you!” The two of them squeeze between Vinny and Max for an embrace. The two young men can’t help but to consciously compare and contrast the ladies as they hug their hellos.

Brooke could easily be a model with her pronounced cheekbones, Mediterranean complexion and Egyptian eyes. Her dark wavy hair flows across her shoulders and down to the center of her back. At five-feet-four-inches, her height is average, but her long sleek legs give her the appearance of an Ethiopian queen. She is dressed in a form fitting jean skirt and sleeveless tie-dyed shirt that’s tied in a knot at her waist. The flat simple sandals upon her feet cap her look and prove the theory that true beauty needs no assistance. She stands next to Sam and makes her appear that-much more homely. It is almost comical. The two of them look like a before and after ad for a Beverly Hills plastic surgeon.

Max, Vinny and Brooke step through the threshold of the cabin and shout greetings all around as the heavy oak door creaks to a close behind them.

At a modestly stocked wet bar built into the kitchen counter at their right stands Zack. He’s five feet-seven inches tall with a light frame, but what he lacks in size he makes up for in spades with his colorful mouth. His thin sandy blonde hair is spiked, and as usual he is completely overdressed for the occasion in a white button-down shirt and slant striped tie. His –Off the rack-, black slacks hang about two inches too long and drape over worn wingtips. The ensemble gives one the sense that he’s attempting to dress beyond his means. As a self-described entrepreneur, his income is only occasional, and always slight. He’s busy shaking a martini in a stainless steel shaker with both hands so offers only a head nod as greeting. Max nods back and searches Zack’s vicinity for that monstrosity that he tries to pass off as a dog.

Zack -intuiting Max’s concern- says, “Don’t worry; Cujo is tied up out back. I promise we won’t have a repeat of your previous altercation. He gave up dark meat for Lent.”

Max lifts a single middle finger in reply. Zack chuckles and continues to shake his martini -doing it more for the effect and less for the flavor.

Opposite Zack, and seated across the bar, sits his wife Vanessa. She’s eight months pregnant and under her flowered maternity dress, her belly looks as though she’s carrying triplets. Her milky skin glows like only that of a woman’s in her condition can, but a slight sadness seems to backlight her usually attractive face. She does the pregnant stand –one hand on the armrest and one hand supporting her belly- as she hoists herself up baby first to distribute hugs.

“Good God! What got into you,” Vinny yells upon sight of her enormous belly.

“I did,” replies Zack proudly with his lips hovering over a freshly -and finally- poured martini.

Vinny says, “So that little pecker does work. And all this time I thought Cujo was the only one that knew for sure.” Vinny gives an,
I’ve got your back,
wink to Max who smiles in acknowledgement and the room erupts with laughter.

Brooke steps to Vanessa and does her best to contort around her belly and give her a hug.

While leaned in close she whispers under the laughter, “It’s so good to see you Vanessa, it’s been so long.”

Vanessa looks back at Brooke with an expression of relief and a touch of concern and says, “I’m so glad you’re here, we need to talk.” Her usually melodic voice is tainted with despair, “Maybe we can sneak away later?”

“Of course,” replies Brooke not knowing what to make of this but always willing to have her ear bent by a friend in need.

Vanessa often confided in Brooke with personal matters but it had been more than a year since they’d last seen each other and Brooke felt they had grown apart. Given Vanessa’s current state and her recent marriage to Zack, Brooke would have thought Vanessa would be on cloud nine. But things are rarely what they appear upon first impression.

Max interrupts, “Hey pretty lady,” and opens his arms wide stepping into Vanessa and then being careful not to squeeze too tightly.

Before pulling away, he catches a whiff of her long black hair as it bounces pass his face and is instantly transported back three years ago to his college dorm where he and Vanessa shared their first and only intimate moment.

Vanessa says nothing. She only looks up at Max and from her queer expression; he knows that she too has been transported to that time. Her expression fades quickly and she breaks her gaze as she moves down the line to Vinny who promptly drops to a knee and presses his right ear to her belly.

With a concerned look he says, “I hear Tupac. Zack are you sure it’s yours?”

Again the room laughs and Zack Riley nods his feigned amusement.

The threesome continues his or her rounds and greets everyone. Onan and Lisa -who flew out from Baltimore for the reunion- sit comfortably on an old tweed sofa adjacent to a wood-burning stove that’s resting heavily on a patch of terra cotta tile in the corner. Onan is a fellow of sizeable girth, all of which is currently covering most of the small sofa. This leaves just a sliver of real estate for Lisa -his better half. His greasy hair sticks to his forehead as he sweats from an unnecessary fire in the wood-burning stove. Zack who was always overly concerned about appearances had undoubtedly made the fire in an effort to dress up the shabby little cabin. Since the place was his pick, he probably felt the need to justify his taste.

Lisa leans as far as she can to her left in an effort to escape the heat of the fire and the salty moisture of Onan. The yellow windbreaker and pink skintight pedal pushers she wears aren’t helping her situation either. Lisa is the local girl that Onan met in high school. She was no Selma Hayek but she was certainly a sight better than Sam was. People often thought of Onan and Lisa as an odd couple before they got to know them. The fact is they are perfectly suited for each other. She likes to talk and he’s a great listener. His disheveled appearance belied the caring individual underneath and Lisa was a preacher’s daughter taught to believe that beauty is in the eye of the beholder.