The Magic of Ellie/Part 7
Chapter 1, Part 7
Tuesday night, I got home from work a little after midnight. I hated when I had to do a late shift during the week, when school was still in, but occasionally I had to cover for someone and it was inevitable. The only upshot was the relatively empty drive back home. But that just highlighted my plight of being out at such an ungodly hour, when rest of the world is asleep. Couldn't wait to sleep.
So I dragged into the house like a zombie, heavy on my feet and desperate for bed. I didn't even want to calculate how few hours of sleep I'd have before school tomorrow. No, this morning, actually. What was even going on at school today? Was there a test?
Mom's latest boyfriend was over, and I inwardly groaned as I came in the house and saw them not only awake, but in the living room. This guy was a drinker, and judging by the mess of bottles on the coffee table, he'd already been hard at it for a while. I opened the door to a ridiculously loud game of some sort on the television. I hadn't set two feet inside and something big happened with the game, prompting him to yell an obscenely loud cheer.
“Hey boy, want to watch the game?” He called to me, voice slurred somewhat from the drink.
“No, thanks.” I said, making for the hall.
“Jake, at least you can speak. Don't be rude.” Mom said sharply.
Since when did she care if I spoke to her or anyone else? Then I remembered she had only been seeing this guy for a couple of weeks. She must be wanting to make a good impression still. I inwardly groaned. Her usual shtick was to play sweet as sugar during the 'get to know you' phase of her many and diverse flings, and during that time I was expected to fall into her fantasy image of an ideal son. I supposed I could at least speak and get this over with.
I sighed, but turned around and said, “Hey...uh, Bobby, right?”
“Tommy.” He said dryly.
Oh yeah, that's right. Bobby had been the guy a few months back. Got it close at least. How the hell was I supposed to keep up with her carousel of men? It was one thing when I was little, and couldn't go anywhere. Now that I had a job and a car, and made sure to stay away from home as much as possible, these things got blurry. Tommy yelled again at a play on the TV.
“Sorry Tommy,” I said, “Listen, I've got school in the morning, so if you guys could keep it down a little, I'd appreciate it.”
“Jake!” Mom said, sounding horrified.
“Hang on now son,” Tommy said heavily, lurching to his feet, “I think you need to slow down on the demands. This is your mother's house, and she pays the bills and keeps the roof over your head. So you don't need to go ordering around adults.”
I could smell the stench of beer on him from ten feet away, and I seriously considered just apologizing and going to my room. I knew his type, and engaging would only make things worse, unless I became apologetic and treated him like the hotshot he fantasized about being. But for some reason or another, I was in no mood to put up with it, and made the decision to hold my ground.
“I didn't order anyone. It was a request. And I'm not your damned son.” I said, staring the drunken buffoon in the eye as I spoke.
He and my mother were stunned silent for a while, but Tommy finally staggered up to me and got in my face.
“Look here, boy. I don't put up with that kind of shit from grown men twice your age, you hear me? When you're talking to a man, you show proper respect.” He said, nearly bowling me over with the stench of his breath.
“If I see one around, I'll keep that in mind.”
Maybe that was too far, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy it. For all the years seeing this kind of loser come and go around here, it felt like I was finally holding my own. Then Tommy slapped me, knocking me sideways into the wall.
My head spun, vision blasting into sparks for a few seconds as I tried to recover. Tommy was yelling something, but my ears were ringing, and I could only make out the end of it.
“...from some little punk like this! God damned pretty boy, with the whole world at his feet. Maybe if you got yourself an ass-kicking, you'd know how to-”
I cut him off with a punch to the gut. Tommy's breath let out in a short burst, and he folded over, clutching his stomach. My mom finally decided to be concerned and started yelling at me for hitting him. I barely heard her though since, after a remarkably short time recovering, Tommy stood and rushed me, tackling into me and driving me into a bookshelf.
I scrambled amidst the crashing shelves and books to get to my feet before further punishment could be doled out. I felt a glancing jab on my jaw, but gained my feet before he could get the better of me. I swung a hook to his face, and felt the stinging thud on my knuckles as I struck too high and caught his cheek bone. Then my head exploded into pain, and I barely registered he'd hit me with a beer bottle.
Unlike the movies, it didn't shatter. Instead, it landed like a miniature baseball bat, accompanied by a ringing note that seemed as loud as a gong. The spike of agony drove me to my knees, and I clutched the impact site with one hand, trying to blink away the white spikes of light rays in my vision before Tommy could do anything else.
I think he was surprised himself that he'd done that, since he stood over me, just staring like a stump. I should have left it at that and tried to salvage whatever I could from the disaster. But hot rage surged in me more fiercely than I'd ever experienced.
Kill him
It was like I had begun a process of retribution and catharsis, bundled into one stand against an aggregate of all the fucked-up things in my life. If I just left it now, I wouldn't be able to forgive myself. Not after being so close. Close to what, I didn't know. But I had to win; I knew that much. So I channeled my rage and the exploding pain in my head and rose with a cry.
I smashed into Tommy, and drove him across the room, over the television stand, and through the living room window. Brad would have been proud of the tackle, I absently thought. I barely even heard the crash of the TV and the crystalline shatter of the window. But I did hear the muted thud as his body hid the ground after the short drop.
My mom railed at me, crying and screaming and cursing me for all I was worth. Which wasn't much in her eyes. I calmly grabbed my backpack and gym bag that I'd left by the door, and exited the house. Mom's words and cries were like a foggy buzz in the background as I got in my car and cranked the engine. As I turned on the headlights, I saw Tommy lying on the ground amid a sparkling sea of glass, bleeding from a multitude of lacerations, and my mother crying and fussing over him miserably. She never even looked up at me as I backed out of the driveway.
*
I stood on Brad's doorstep, my head splitting with sharp, jagged spikes of pain, and hesitated at the knocker. They had a doorbell, but those always put me off for some reason. I felt the natural act of knocking was at least a little less frightening and abrasive in the middle of the night. Finally, I mustered my courage and rapped the brass knocker a few times. Even outside, the sound was violently loud in the quiet, deep night. Or maybe it was just my head.
Some moments later, the porch light flared on, making me squint and blink against the glare. Then, I heard a frantic rustle and rattle as the locks were undone, and the door flew open. James stood within, wrapped in a robe, and stared at me in horror for a moment as he saw me.
“Jake! Oh my God, what happened?” He came to me, looking and scanning me over with his critical, medical eye, “Are you okay?”
I nodded, then regretted the motion, “I'm alright. Sorry to bother you.”
“Damn the apology, get inside.” He ushered me in, where lights were coming on in the house and I heard people moving.
Soon they were all there. Lori got there first, and gave a frightened cry as she saw my bloody, battered face. She came over to me, gently trying to see if I was okay, and looking at her husband in confusion.
“Son, what happened?” James asked, as Lori went to get some supplies.
I shook my head as I tried to think how to put it, but I didn't get the chance as a high, terrified cry cut into my head from the hallway. Ellie was in front of me before I even saw her, her angelic face wracked with worry and fear.
“Oh God Jake, what happened?” She asked, tenderly touching my cheek before pulling away at my wince of pain.
I focused on her, trying to use her as an anchor to stop my spinning head and said, “I'm okay, Ellie.”
“Come here and sit down.” James instructed, taking my arm to guide me into the kitchen and to a chair.
I fell heavily into it, and breathed deeply to try and stop the sudden nausea. I couldn't believe I was feeling so crappy all of a sudden. My drive over here had been relatively normal, save for the pain. Maybe my adrenaline was keeping me going until I got to a safe place.
Everyone's voices became a jumble around me, and I ineffectually tried to sort them out. At one point, I picked up Brad's bass drone, although I didn't know what he was saying. I saw lights and flashes of movement, but it all gradually became a blur.
Until Ellie knelt down next to me and put her hand on my knee. I saw her in the maelstrom of color and noise, clear as ever, her frightened face making me want to get up and fix whatever had her so upset. I took her hand in mine and squeezed, staring into her pulsing blue eyes, hoping to use the focus to keep me lucid and upright.
Still, I passed out at some point. I came to feeling sick but not so disoriented, on the couch. Ellie sat next to me, still holding my hand. My head felt numb, and there was a cool towel over my forehead, but I could see and hear now, which was a relief.
When Ellie noticed me stirring and looking around, she turned to face me, her frightened, tear-reddened eyes illuminating in such a lovely way. I very nearly kissed her, but only just remembered the situation, and stopped myself. Everything felt a little like a dream. Then James was there, looking into my eyes with a flashlight and feeling my head with firm, practiced hands.
“How many fingers am I holding up, Jake?” He asked, holding his hand in front of me.
“Four.” I said, my throat thick and dry.
“Good man,” He said, heaving a sigh, “You gave us a scare for a minute there.”
I coughed dryly and said, “Sorry. Did I pass out?”
“Pretty much,” James said, “You've got a concussion. What's her name?”
He nodded his head to Ellie. I looked at him for a moment, wondering if he was serious.
“Ellie. Is it that bad?”
“Doesn't seem like it. But usually, people don't lose consciousness unless the trauma is fairly severe. But judging by your symptoms, you don't appear to have anything more than a moderate concussion.”
I looked around for a bit longer, tried to sit up, then decided against it as a spike of pain stabbed my head.
“Think you'd be up to telling me what happened?” James asked.
I glanced briefly to Ellie, who still held my hand, stroking absently with her thumb over mine. She didn't seem to care about her dad sitting right in front of us, but he didn't seem to either. I supposed his medical professionalism won out at times like these.
“I got in a fight,” I said, then, “Could I get some water? My throat's dry.”
I barely had the words out when Brad came around the side of the couch and handed me a bottle of water. I eagerly chugged half of it in one go.
“Easy,” James cautioned gently, “Take sips, if you can. And here, take these.”
He handed me a pair of pills that I assumed was for the pain. I eagerly swallowed them down with another sip of water. My head was pounding. I hoped they would kick in quickly.
I sighed, then continued, “I had to work late. Got home and mom had her boyfriend over. He was drunk and loud and I asked them if they could keep it down since I had to get up early for school. That pissed him off. I kind of insulted him, and he jumped on me. We fought for a bit, but he finally hit me with a beer bottle. Then I threw him out the window and left.”
Everyone was quiet for a while after I finished. I felt a slight twitch on my hand from where Ellie held it still. I cut my eyes over to her discreetly, and saw her head hanging down as she tried to fight a grin, despite herself. I couldn't help a stupid swell of pride.
Brad spoke up first, “Damn, you threw him out the window?”
“Brad,” His dad warned, “It's none of your business. As a matter of fact, you two should get back to bed. I need to talk to Jake for a minute, and he needs to rest too.”
Brad nodded, looking abashed, then clapped me on the shoulder before heading back down the hall. Ellie was more reluctant. I felt her hand squeeze mine, and I briefly returned the pressure, giving her a small nod to indicate I'd be fine.
“Ellie, come on sweetie,” Lori said from somewhere behind me, “He'll be fine.”
Ellie slowly stood and went with her mother, shooting me a last, timid look, as if unsure she'd see me again. I leaned back into the couch and sighed. My head was killing me. James was silent as he tried to get his thoughts in order.
Finally he said, “Jake, you know we've never interfered with your home life. But from what you just said, a grown man assaulted a minor. That's serious. Maybe you should talk to the police.”
I slowly shook my head, “No. I don't care enough to bother. I hope him and mom live happily ever after.”
James said nothing, but I could tell he was upset. Suddenly, I felt like an asshole for choosing to be angry with him and Lori about what I'd overheard. Sure, they were hiding something, but they were good people, who genuinely cared about Ellie. And me. Whatever this secret was, I knew they only had our best interest in mind. I found myself wanting to talk to him, so I did.
I grinned humorlessly and said, “You should have seen her. Not a word until I hit him back. Then she started screaming at me. And when I knocked him out the window, she ran over to him, crying and screaming. I'd just been clubbed with a bottle, and was about to drive away, and she never even looked up.”
I paused for a few shaky breaths then went on, “I'm done with it. I'll live in my car, or whatever, but I don't ever want to see her again. I knew she never really gave a damn about me, but after tonight...”
I was too choked up to continue. I was exhausted, my head was killing me, I felt lost and wrung out like a washcloth. So I sat, silent tears falling in the dim room, trying to force myself not to cry over this bullshit situation.
James said eventually, his own voice thick with emotion, “Son, you've always got a home here. I want you to know that. And if you want, you can move in and live here. We would love to have you. I'm not sure about the legalities, but we can figure that out. Just don't think you've got nowhere to go.”
“I couldn't put that kind of burden on you.” I said, feeling an enormous swell of gratitude for the offer nonetheless.
“Jake, you're far from a burden. Don't think that way about yourself. You'll have to make do on the couch for a little while, but I'll get my butt in gear to finish that attic room, and you can help me out with it. It'll be all yours.”
I couldn't help but laugh a little, despite feeling so miserable. He had just described my greatest childhood dream.
“Are you sure Lori would be okay with it?” I asked, still not letting myself get hopeful.
He nodded and said, “I probably shouldn't say this, but she and I have wished for a long time that you could be a part of this household. It wasn't our place to say anything, and even less to try to do anything. But to answer your question: Yes, I'm sure. It would make her very happy. It would make all of us happy. Brad and Ellie would be...”
James trailed off, his eyes growing distant. He looked deep in thought suddenly, and I had a suspicion that I knew why. Just what was he and Lori expecting to happen between Ellie and me? I wondered If I should ask him now, while we were having this close talk. If they thought she was dangerous somehow, shouldn't I find out why? Before I could decide though, James shook himself back to the present and gave me a smile.
“Anyway, we can work out the details later. You need to get some sleep. Doctor's orders,” He said with a wink as he stood, “And if you need anything at all, don't hesitate to call out.”
“What time is it?” I asked, since the room was too dark to see the wall clock.
James peeked into the kitchen and said, “Almost 2:00. You're not thinking about school, are you?”
I didn't answer, but I had been.
“I'll write you a note for tomorrow. Unless there's something really important going on, you should just rest.” He said.
I nodded and said, “Okay. Thank you.”
“'Night, buddy.” He said warmly, then disappeared down the hall.
I stretched out on the sheet that had been laid over the couch, snuggled into the blanket, and gingerly lay my head back on the pillow. The pressure made my injury throb dully, but the pain medicine seemed to be blunting the edge of it with a fuzzy undercurrent. I felt sure I wouldn't be able to sleep, but in no time at all, I was out.
*
My dreams were vivid and frighteningly real. Psychedelic colors and shapes kaleidoscoped everywhere, a backdrop to the characters and sounds I encountered. I heard screaming from everywhere; my mother, Ellie, Lori, James, more. Their voices blended into a dissonant howl that rose mountains from the mist before shattering them into shards of bloody glass.
The mist swallowed everything as the sound died to nothing. A small crack appeared in the gray, letting light through in a thin line. Ellie floated in that fissure between the clouds, radiant in her nudity like an angel. Her long, sun-gold hair flowed out in a fan behind and around her, as if exempt from gravity's rules. She smiled at me, and extended a delicate hand.
I moved to take it, but couldn't reach. I tried and tried, but it was futile. Her smile only broadened though, growing toothy and hungry; vicious. And all around her, the clouds began to recede, as if her luminescence and heat was the Sun, chasing them from the sky. Her brightness increased ever more, until it began to hurt my eyes and blind me. Soon, all I could see in the field of blazing white was her two blue flame eyes, locked on mine and demanding I not turn away.
But as is the case with dreams, I knew that I must look away, immediately, else I would be blinded and burned to cinders by her light and heat. But if I did, she would be lost to me forever. Hands clawed at me from behind, trying to pull me away, but I fought against them. My eyes steamed and smoked as the fluid burned away.