Crack in the slab

I couldn’t figure out how to get the damn Chrysler started.

“Piece of junk” I said aloud and kicked the car perhaps a bit too hard. I yelped in pain. That had probably hurt me more than the car anyway.

“Honey, you alright down there?” Mom’s voice came from the house. Ears of a hawk as always.

“Yeah! Everything’s fine.”

“You sure, honey? Just tell me if you got hurt, alright?” I let out an audible sigh.

“I am just fine mom!”

“Let’s not forget all the times you said you were fine just so you didn’t have to go to the doctor, yah?” Her final few words were drowned out by the sound of the mixer grinder whirring loudly.

I pretended to have not heard her and went to grab the jumper cables and spare battery from the garage shelf. The musty smell of oil mixed with the dusty equipment gave the place a sort of rustic feel. It would have been almost nostalgic if it didn’t smell fucking awful. I set up the cables and attached the wires to the battery.

Now for the real thing.

I attached the cables and charged up the battery and with an angry roar the engines started chugging. The Chrysler 300 we had bought second hand might just survive another trip. I took out my phone and tried to operate it with my dirty gloves. It didn’t work. The heat of the Sun almost felt pleasant on my hands as I took them off.

The garage door opened into the withering yard that was our garden. The fences looked desolate in the harsh light of the sun. Tranquility Lane had never looked more lonely. I walked outside partly because the garage didn’t get any network coverage, and mostly because the smell would probably kill me. Did I mention how bad the smell was?

Partway through I decided against using my phone after all.

I got into the big family car and started it up. With a violent roar, the engine powered up. The Chrysler might have been old, but it was reliable. It chugged along at a decent pace as I struggled to find a decent radio station. The morning wind felt comfortable on my face as it carried just the slight scent of sea. I slowed to a brisk pace as the morning traffic caught up to me. Considerably later than usual because of the weekend, but still present nevertheless.

It was quite comfy inside the car because of Dad’s proclivities as the resident comfort chaser. He had installed wool upholstery despite mom’s disapproval. And for once I wasn’t going to complain about it. I would have taken blankets wrapped around the seats over the rough leather that the car had come upholstered with. The man had tried quite hard to make the car feel homely all the time.

Maybe it was because we had got the car second hand. Or well, we didn’t exactly know how many hands. But it was renewed and it worked. ‘Budget constraints’ dad called it. I thought it was just a cute way to describe being a lower middle class family. Regardless, it did mean that we couldn’t really be picky about the things we bought.

I took a right onto Church street and went straight across Fair street, past Cooper park. Memory of times I had spent rolling down those little slopes and coming home with grime and dirt sticking to my hair hit me. Mom would be shaking her head as I pranced around the house shaking off all that dirt only to have dad clean it later. A very annoyed look on his face.

I took a left onto Main street, passing by some of the notable places of interest in town. The Keeper of Culture and History was having a bit of a busy day. I remember hearing about this new painting piece they were putting up. It sounded exciting. For someone who wasn’t me.

I chortled slightly as I remembered the day dad had brought in the car. Almost 10 years ago, on a day quite unlike today. I remembered the chilly wind that had whipped across my face when I had opened the window of my room. I had been trying to look at the car that had started honking alongside dad’s loud hollers. Mom had rushed outside and I had quickly followed suit, the window still open.

The cloudy skies and snow outside which would have once deterred me felt inconsequent as I ran like a boulder into dad’s chest. He picked me up in one swooping motion. His smile was infectious and I found myself laughing. I winced thinking about my cheekbones in the cold. I remembered how his blazer, though rough and a bit wet from all the snow outside, had felt like a blanket of warmth. It wasn’t until we were all inside and Mom had started chastising me for going out without my overalls that it finally hit me. We had a car!

Here I was ten years later, sitting in the same seat Dad had once sat at while driving the Chrysler home. On a car that had probably cost him almost his entire savings at that point. I couldn’t help but grin thinking about it.

I passed by the Museum of Mythology that looked as gloomy as ever. It always had a few people visiting, which was the reason it was still pretty well maintained. But man, they really needed to give this place a visual face lift. The garish colours, uninviting gates and the air of silence that permeated in the very bones of the building were enough to make anyone pass by it without a second thought.

I took a left onto Chestnut street as I spotted Deed’s café, thriving with the influx of morning arrivals in town. I drove past the big shot hotels which were also incidentally the tallest buildings in town. In an otherwise lowkey town, both the White House and Landmark Inn stood out in their brazenly capitalistic glory.

New York Pizzeria came up right before the turn into Elm street. The place was fairly quiet even for a weekend. I looked at my phone to check the time. A minute till 11. Nailed it. I parked the car near the designated sign for parking and got out. The heat had mellowed out ever so slightly as I walked inside. The clink of the bell announced my arrival as the soft lo-fi ambience playing from the sound system filled my ears.

The Pizzeria wasn’t a large establishment. The Pastry display and payment counter to the right of the entrance made way for about a dozen tables with revolving chairs placed neatly together. It wasn’t cramped, but neither was it spacious. Yet it did have this sort of homely feel to it. I didn’t see any of the staff at first glance but considering the place had just opened, it made sense.

I looked around to find a pair of eyes trained at me. Peeking from over the menu pamphlet, those ocean green eyes stared at me with intent. I pretended to not notice and called Lily Hoover on the phone. One ring, two rings. The eyes jumped suddenly and the menu fell over from her face. The girl wearing a short floral summer dress smiled sheepishly as she waved at me. I sighed and headed over.

“Not even going to ask why you were doing whatever you were doing but-” I started as I sat down on the chair. “What’s with that hair?”

Her short hair usually curled to the right side of her face, almost casting a shadow over her eyes. But the bob cut she had now looked slick, stylish.

“Not you too! Ugh.”

“No I mean-”

“I spent way too much on that hair salon!” She clasped her hands over her face and whimpered. It looked pathetic in the very literal sense of the word. “And you… even… it.” Her words came out slurred and nigh indecipherable through her hands.

“Lily, look at me.”

“I refuse!”

“Look at me or I am going to grab your hand.” She slowly looked at me.

“You can’t threaten me with that!” I grabbed her hand. She yelped but to her credit she didn’t pull away. She was quite averse to physical contact despite very enthusiastically grabbing my hands on the first day. She attributed it to being over excited. I called it cute.

The same could be said about her straight hair- polished to a smooth, well-maintained texture. That bob really did wonders to accentuate her features.

“It looks good on you.” Her eyes instantly flashed with a sense of adoration more akin to a puppy given praise.

“You mean it?”

“I like it. Now put a cloche hat on top and your look will be perfect.” She grinned at me and then stood up and twirled on her tiptoes. Her white loafers were almost shining with her. She looked ethereal for a moment as the sunlight hit her face.

She then pulled out her phone and pressed a button.

“‘It looks good on you.’” It blared loudly. “‘I like it.’”

Oh no. Oh, this was bad.

Memories of last year flashed across my mind. Overwhelming me.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Neil Grayson.” She said, with a smirk on her face. “In which way do you think a rabid group of extremely hormonal teenagers would interpret this if they heard it playing from my phone?”

Words would get twisted again. A whole world turned upside down.

“You know when you called later and pretended to be all disappointed about how you really just couldn’t go along with me today- I felt genuinely hurt you know? I thought we had a real connection.”

I felt ill.

“I was psyched that you wanted to come along and see what I do.”

It burned in my stomach, a pain that threatened to drown me. Her phone kept playing, looping my words over and over.

“Consider this a mortgage of sorts.”

Ah, it was just like that time. I felt that same dizzying pain.

“I really do want to hear you play after all. I want to know everything about you.” Her words slurred together. “You keep asking me why I don’t let you help me, don’t you? What have you done to even fucking deserve that right?” A quartet of broken voices and expressions.

“Hollow words of support. Lies and missing pieces. That’s all you have been. You probably don’t even realise it yourself.” Her voice sounded very far away. So incredibly out of my reach.

“But this morning? You felt real. So awfully real.” My vision blurred as she leaned forward and touched my face. “I wanted to meet that shining star on the stage who debuted with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. That same untouchable blip in the sky who I wanted to make my muse. My own Casanova.”

“Why me?” I managed to squeak out. My breathing felt heavy. But somehow I felt light. Like I was floating. I looked at my hands as they trembled in a steady pattern. Each finger flickering back and forth like a really smooth stock animation. Ah, it was happening again.

“Hey, Neil? You don’t look too good.” Don’t look at me with concern. Don’t pity me.

In one moment, that pretty face with green eyes was looking at me. In another, I had fallen into the abyss. Tumbling down and down and down. Until everything was a pitch black void.