Read Part I here:
I figured the urgent care had to have people in it. Nobody was going to play this game with a broken finger or a fever. It was a block over and about a five-minute walk.
I was still high. It was an effort to not dial in on any one thing and try to pay attention to the environment around me.
I kept looking skyward. As I rounded the corner, narrowly avoiding a stroller in the middle of the sidewalk, it hit me that I couldn’t hear any birds. I looked around me. In fact, there weren’t any squirrels or chipmunks. It was as if every living thing was actively being where I wasn’t.
Honestly, it hurt my feelings a little bit.
I looked into the windows of a few of the businesses I passed. The Dairy-O, Ronnie’s Accounting, Rena's Pet Grooming.
I passed by Luck o’ the Laundry and backed up. People might leave their laundry while they ran an errand or got a bite to eat, but they didn't bail in the middle of emptying the dryer.
I was tempted to go inside. Someone had to be in there, hiding behind a machine.
But I was still high and diverging from a plan I thought was iron was a sure-fire way to diverge from any plan at all.
The idea of catching somebody begged the question: what then? Would the game be over? Would I have to shake the person and yell for them to stop it?
I'd wandered onto the grass by the time I'd come out of my half-daydream. I'd walked a few spaces past the urgent care and had to orient myself.
I walked back and pushed into the atrium of the urgent care. I could see before entering the space proper that there was nobody in the lobby, including behind the front desk.
I remembered why I came in here now. We were going to play a game of chicken. Doctors’ offices had drugs. Let's see if they were willing to keep this hiding thing up at the expense of their jobs and freedom.
My brain hadn't appreciated at that time that some of those consequences would spooge me in the chest, too. Probably because I was expecting somebody to open a door and say, “Okay, this has gone on far enough.”
I realized what I was really looking for was an adult-in-charge. The dynamic as it was meant that was me and I wasn't for it. I still felt like I was a Toys-R-Us kid.
I expected to have to climb over the counter and was surprised that the door to the treatment rooms wasn't locked. I thought it was a buzz-open situation when a nurse didn't open it to call the next patient.
It felt like I was doing something wrong as I passed the scale that also measured height. There was a desk with samples of gentle facial cleansers and vitamins. I grabbed a fistful of the vitamins. They tasted kind of like chalkier Flintstones Chewables and I really dug those.
I was standing in the threshold of a treatment room when I remembered I wasn't here for treatment. To save face--at least in my own head--I went in and raided the cabinets for tongue depressors and those long cotton swabs in the wrappers.
My hoodie pocket was getting fuller than I'd intended without the actual drugs. But this was how chicken was played, a gradual escalation. They could stop me anytime.
I went back to that desk and tried to hop it. I banged my knee and fell on my butt hard. Both hurt, but I had to triage the pain, ignoring my crushed tailbone to focus on what had to have been a dislocated knee. It hurt so bad and in combination with my high I was willing my spirit to leave my body. There was no luck in my favor and I just had to sit in my agony and pray for the affected nerve endings to die.
I heard something like a stifled chuckle. I had tears in my eyes as I tried to see where the voice came from. As best I could tell, there was someone over by the treatment rooms on the other side of this desk. But both flesh and spirit were weak and I couldn't get up.
I opened my mouth to say something but the sound that came out of me was like a human version of a dog whimpering.
My sister was right. I was a loser.
Maybe five minutes later, I was finally able to stand. My legs were shaky and I definitely couldn't have chased after whoever that had been. I wasn't as injured as my drug-induced brain had been telling me and the more I walked around, the better I felt.
I poked my head into all the examining rooms. There was a lollipop on the counter in one room, a curved needle with thread atop a tray with a needle in another, and one other room with a pair of pants accordioned in the middle of the floor like someone had dropped trou and stepped out of them.
My head was starting to hurt. People weren’t supposed to think this hard when they were high. All I wanted was to go home and lay all this out for my mom to figure out.
I searched around halfheartedly, finding only the syringe in the room with the curved needle and thread.
I held it up in the middle of the area. Maybe there were cameras. I mean, I’m sure there were cameras here, but maybe there were cameras generally. Like around the town. It wouldn’t have been that hard to do. Just about everybody had a camera on their doorbell. My neighbor next door had a drone, that probably had a camera, too. Every cell phone was a camera.
I nodded like I’d made some grand revelation. We all were being watched, but right now it was probably just me.
“Okay!” I said. “I get it now.” I held the syringe up to my face. It was Novocain or whatever. The only thing I was going to do with this was get numb. I tossed it on the floor and headed back to the front.
I really did want my mom. I mean, she wouldn’t be in on whatever this was. I could tell her all about it and even though she wouldn’t believe me, she’d still listen. She’d rub my head and make me a toddy with the brandy she kept hidden under the sink. We weren’t practicing in any meaningful way, but my dad didn’t allow alcohol in the house.
I jogged until I was out of the downtown area. The urgent care was on the edge, so that hadn’t been very far. But I did get a stitch in my side that forced me to walk the next block or so. I rounded onto my block and now I did notice the lack of joggers, dog-walkers, and construction workers. There should have been non-stop lawn mowers in the distance, too, but everything was just quiet.
I’ve gone for walks at two in the morning, when the world was asleep, and it wasn’t this quiet. No birds, not even an occasional bee or fly. It was like everything and everyone had gone someplace I wasn’t.
That really hurt.
I finally made it home and went in through the side door. Mom’s car was still parked in the driveway. I think it had been there when I left.
“Mom?” I said before underhanding my keys onto the kitchen island. “Mom?”
It was just as quiet in here.
I opened the basement door and listened. Sometimes she raided my stash. Then I walked the house, opening every door until I verified there was nobody home but me. My high kicked into the worst possible gear: sadness.
I cleaned my scraped hand and put a couple band-aids on it before winding back in the kitchen.
“Where the fuck are you guys?”
Swearing was a big no-no. I’d done it on purpose. I would’ve taken a scolding right then. As if in answer, the refrigerator clicked on and scared the hell out of me. But nobody came rushing in, wagging a finger at me.
Nobody cared.
I slowly raided the fridge.
I ate the leftover pizza my parents had. Olives were disgusting, but I had the munchies. There were some pickles at the back and a half empty bag of shredded cheese. I finished the first and was eating directly out of the bag when I finally closed the refrigerator.
I sat down and turned on the television.
The news should have been on, but a blue screen with, “WE ARE EXPERIENCING TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES,” was printed in bold white letters. I flipped the channel to some old black-and-white court drama. Whatever they were saying wasn’t important; I just wanted to see people.
I should have gotten my phone from my room, but I was weighed down by self-loathing and that extra sharp cheddar was really good.
Before long, I’d drifted off to sleep, but I came awake suddenly.
I wasn’t disoriented. I felt sharp, focused. I had a tingling at the back of my skull like someone was in the house. Or more succinctly, someone was very close to me right now.
The TV was off. I turned and spilled shredded cheese all over the couch. The patio door was open.
It was getting dusky outside. According to the clock on the microwave, I’d been asleep over six hours. Dad should have been home, but I didn’t call out. If this game was still ongoing, I didn’t want to tip them off that I was awake.
I rolled onto the floor and began walking on all fours like a creature that was somewhere between man and ape. That got tiring pretty quick and I went down on hands and knees. I was quiet. If there were somebody in the house, I should have been able to find them.
I crawled upstairs. There were three bedrooms and two bathrooms, one in my parents’ room. If somebody were up here, they might run by me if I picked wrong.
I’d made a choice and was reaching for a doorknob when the front door slammed shut.
I flipped over and scooched down the stairs until I got my feet and ran down the last few. I ran outside and ran in a direction. It could have been wrong, but I had to commit if I were going to catch them.
I ran out of gas pretty quickly. As I hung my head and gripped my knees, sucking air, I scanned all around. I noticed what I didn’t have the wits to see before. People were here. They were here right now.
They were hiding from me.
I stood and pointed at a bush.
“I see you!”
I began walking slowly toward it.
Someone child-sized popped up from behind a car and ran. I was not going to catch them and didn’t try. I looked back at the bush, and it had stopped trembling. There was a flood light from a house on it and at this angle, I could see there was nobody behind it.
It seemed like all the people who’d been near before had retreated. I searched anyway, getting in the down push-up position to check underneath cars, looking on the other side of fenced-in lots, peeking in windows of houses.
Then I remembered Mrs. Carmody.
Wheelchair bound and elderly. There was no way she was participating in this. And her house was the next block over.
I swift-walked to her place, wishing I’d grabbed my phone. And a bottle of water. And a bottle of mouthwash. This cheese breath was atrocious.
Mrs. Carmody had one of those wraparound porches. I bounced up the three stairs and raised a hand at the door.
To knock or not to knock?
If she were playing, she wouldn’t answer. If she weren’t playing, I’d scare the hell out of her if I broke in. Going to jail wasn’t on the agenda. I knocked.
After a good thirty seconds, I knocked again. When she still didn’t answer, I decided that meant she was playing or that she wasn’t and was perhaps lying at the bottom of her stairs, hoping someone like me would come along to save her.
She could have been asleep, and I’d have to figure out plausible deniability, but I was going in.
I tried twisting the knob, but it was locked. She had big pane windows and stones lining her lawn. I went back and grabbed one and hefted it into the window before I could think my way out of not doing it.
A quick look around confirmed that nobody was going to stop me. The stone had punched a big, jagged hole in the window and I was not about to try to step through. It would be just my luck to step gingerly through, exposing the length of my inner thigh to be slashed by a big shard of glass and then bleeding today on the carpet of her sitting room.
I went back for another stone and noticed one didn’t look like the others. I nudged it and it lifted easily. I picked it up and saw it was fake and had a key in a little compartment in the bottom.
I opened one of the mini-packs of the non-Flintstones chewable vitamins, went back to the door, and let myself in.