This week's #SSWkly is a noir story....or is it even a story at all? A simple premise, with hearty dialogue, and allusions, metaphors on basic subjects of Life, Desth, Depression, and Jealousy. Since I wasn't able to release the poem/story on-time last week, I've gathered enough mental strength to include this one as well for this week. As we approach the end of these weekly posts. I've been iffy about this story, but do not take that as it being wholisticaly bad, nor impervious of scrutiny, I like it enough to post it, and laud over my consensus that this particular "story" is anything but obscure, orignal, and aestically goregeous in its magnanimous telling.
Here is:
Concrete and Hedgerows.
Farrah Spilane walked through the walnut doors, the thickening creaking against the concrete floor made it hard for her to think. Not that it was easy to think about what she was doing, and where she was heading. The funeral palor was all-but-cheery. It had a smell of old flowers,rotting, and it felt as cold as walk-in freezer. She looked around to see that she was the first one to show up from the old gang. She refused to pay her respects alone, being in a room with a body by yourself...it felt unnatural, but with a group of loved ones, as painful as it was to bear, tends to feel as natural as the first mourning of the dead.
She was dressed in black, it seemed appropriate for a funeral, then she was never not dressed for such an appropriate recourse, black was all she ever wore. Morbid curiosity had her peering in at the body, and it lied there content, as most cadavers do. This wasn't her first rodeo, but it hurt just the same. Jeff was a good friend, from high school, he was a lot like her: same issues, same likes and dislikes, and she knew him well, kept in touch even after all these hrs. The news of his death was a shock, and gut-wrenching. The old gang had their issues, and yet, always had one-another's backs, as though they could help each other but never fix their own god damned lives.
Hanna Lang came up to Farrah, and hugged her from behind, nearly scaring Farrah out of her laced-up combat boots. She turned to see Hanna, who was a beautiful girl, but dyslexic, and a bit slow, not stupid, by nay means, just not all there at the moment. She was picked on,mag used by the boys in high school, but Farrah always rembefes Jeff being extra nice to her, which was nicer than how he treated most people. She knew Jeff had a bit of a thing for Hanna, but the two would never mesh. He was not as pretty, and she barely had the attention span to even converse past taking off her bra. Farrah was a bit jealous, she supposed, and yet, Hanna was the colest thing to a best friend she ever had....except for Jeff, but thwt was over now, wasn't it?
"Farrah! You haven't changed a bit! It's been um....5 years? Right, 5 I think. So how a you? Still rocking the goth look, nice though, you still are so pretty!" Hanna smiled jovially, Farrah figured this was her way of dealing with the loss. Now with the juxtaposed Hanna, she felt the nerve to walk into the viewing, and her eyes were drawn right to the casket.
Ther he was, almost alive, but somehow missing his features, his livelihood. The hands we're seen shut atop ones other, and hiding the post mortem scars of his sucide success. Jeff was always troubled, part of their little misfit club throughout high school. He didn't go to college like the rest of them, and barely thirty years in, he killed himself.
Farrah couldn't believe it when she got the news. Jeff's father was the one to tell her....well announce it across the intent, and she happened upon it by chance. She was upset by his death,mshe always saw a great deal of potential in him, but she guessed he didn't see it in himself. Now he was lying there...a pathetic carcass, a vessel to a soul so tortured and confused, it simply had to escape, and through the slit of the wrist, escaped to some ungodly plain.
"He sure looks dead, Farah." Hanna said,almost comically shocked by the circumstances. Hanna always needs some extra care with these things.
"He sure does....what a waste" she muttered under her breath, but she turned and hugged Hanna, who hugged back with a force of a vise grip. Farrah coughed to have the grip released. She smiled though, it was hard not to smile at Hanna, seeing those big brown eyes just as large as a caricature portraits of a porcelain doll. Farrah looked past her hug-locked friend, and saw Jamie Gershing, (Jamie Grntley as his friends called him) coming in through the parlor. Remnants of a cigarette on his breath.
"Farrah, Hanna, guess we're missing Shannon and Henry. Look at the poor slob, looks too damn peaceful, considering the shit he's been through."
"That's funny, cause I thought he looked really dead! It's a shame, Jeff would've loved this, he always liked tulips, and they're all over the place! P" Hanna looked around, entranced by the room decked out in flowers.
"I see Hanna's amazing perception skills haven't changed, but she's grieving...in her own way. Thought we'd be the only two to make it, his own father isn't even here yet...and his mother, well that's not happening." Farrah looked down at her feet, it appeared as though she were looking at the casket. The 29-year old son of a bitch she thought was her ride or die back when she was barely a woman laid there as though he was having the greatest dream.
"For Jeff, nah I wouldn't miss it, Farrah. He'd do the same for us, I kinda feel sorry for enkid, he's been feeling so bad lately, and nobody ever takes these threats seriously, or give a shit when it's someone that's been on the lamb for years. But I've been in touch with him, damn...less than a week ago. Poor miserable fuck....I'm feeling so bad for him."
"I don't know, he looks pretty happy, probably in Heaven, looking down on us, wanting us to have a pool party! Remember the pool parties? It was so much fun to jump off that diving board his uncle had! Jeff liked to cannonball, and he'd snap my bikini, he was such a kidder!" Hanna smiled, and ran over to the coffin, leaving a picture of the five of them when they were kids; Farrah, Henry, Shannon, Hanna in her perfectly -fitting two-piece, Jamie at the end, and Jeff dead-center. His creepy uncle took the shot, and tried to cup a feel a few times on herself and Hanna, but a well-placed knee always kept him at bay. Back then, perverted old men we almost "cute" but she never found humor in it, neither did Jeff.
Hanna gave Jeff a kiss on the forehead, and stroked his luscious hair, still masterfully sculpted. Farrah snubbed Hanna for a bit after thwt, a rage of jealousy from childhood thwt never did simmer down, and felt so immature ran through her again. She maintained her posture, and knelt down by the coffin. She wasn't really all religious,mbut out of respect, made the sign of the cross. Henry rolled in afterwards, and smiled at his long-time friends.
"I thought I was going to be the only one here! How's it going fuckers?!" He clasped hands with Jamie, and gave him a big bear hug, then he came over and kissed Hanna gently on the cheek, and did the same to me. I shrugged it off, He rly wasn't a sleaze, but he always rubbed Farrah the wrong way.
"This is too wicked, guys, I mean look at him, gone way too soon. We were best buds back in high school. Both of us getting into fights, sent down to old Principal Dic's office." (Her real name was Principal Vic) "she was always the biggest bitch, but we managed. Man, this is just a lot, good memories coming back,mand now this bullshit right here....damn, it's enough to kill my heart!" He lifted the flask of his mouth, trying to hide the fact he was still drinking, but Farrah caught it, and shook her head in disbelief.
Shannon rolled in afterwards, and sat in the far back, saying nothing....just crying to herself. Alongside her was a toddler, old enough to walk, but barely old enough to make legible sounds. They all reared back in shock...nobody knew Shannon that well, she always hung out in the background, always away from the group, but it was interesting that she would always join the eat of them on outings, and even smiled every so-own. It was said she had a form of autism, but that she was very-high functioning. The whole group wasn't much more than a band of misfits that rolled around, and never really fit in anywhere else. Farrah was the most successful, she had landed a golden oppurtunity, and opened multiple tattoo studios across the San Franscico region. She flew a redeye to get back home in Newburyport Massachuestts to even attend the Wake.
Jamie had been a bar hop, and worked at a humble little tavern in the backwoods. Then there's was Hanna....well, Farrah supposed she was happy working with children,mbut mostly her parents took care of her,both absurdly rich, but equally neglectful, and distant to their daughter. Real fucking scumbags. Farrah looked over to Henry, the drunk, and obviously not stopping,while Shannon was the real mystery. She wasn't surprised the girl got herself knocked up, but she was surprised thwt she still rejected the rest of the group,for good, or bad; during this time.
Henry sat down, taking another swig from the flask he was so desperately trying to hide up his long sleeve, but Farrah's eyes were quicker than his drunken claws. Hanna was again cheerful enough to break the silence:
"Oh my goodness! This is like,the first time we've all been together since graduation! Shannon's always been missing, how you've been girl?"
Shannon looked up from sobbing, stared at us all, and intensely at Hanna, then began bawling into her hands, she weeded like the ocean. Hanna approached her to do some sort of consoling,mbut Shannon, shoved her aside, rather harshly, and picked up the toddler, and waltzed out of the room, the bathroom door slamming shut firmly behind her just outside the viewing hall.
"I'll....uh, go check on her, and Hanna! Be a little more sympathetic when she comes back in, and I know you didn't mean it,mbut not everybody...uh, grieves like you do, okay? So maybe don't be all giddy to Shannon. Just sit down and be a good girl, and you boys! Don't try hitting on Hanna when I'm gone, for Christ's sakes! This is a funeral!"
"Hey! We're not animals you know!" Jamie said with an exclamation to shake the scaffolding.
" I know, even animals have standars,mso try to emulate one while I'm gone, I'll be back in a dew minutes."
Farrah ran out to the hall, and went right up to the women's restroom. She walked in, and knocked on the only locked stall. The sobbing cease, and a shrill voice screamed:"Go away! Can't you see I'm using the god damned bathroom?!" Farrah wasn't giving up, especially since she didn't want Shannon to regret saying her goodbyes to Jeff. She always found it funny thwt at any funeral, it's alway about the living, more than the dead. Everybody wants to be the center of attention, because in the subconscious, we don't understand why we give so much attention to a corpse, over the living.
"No, Shannon, it's Fwrrah now, and I'm sorry for your loss, it's a loss for all of us, but Jeff wouldn't want you doing this! He'd want you to come out here, and he'd want you to pay your respects. Hanna didn't mean anything by it, she's always been...different, and we can't fault her for that, because we all struggle. We're all fuck-ups, and we're all suffering, but we we also all here for Jeff, on his most important day, and you knew that, and you've showed up for him, so let's go out-"
"Fuck Jeff!" The shrill was so loud, the toddler started crying, and there were coddles and loving shoos as Shannon began to home the child back into pacification.
"Oh...um...I think I get the picture, but why show up here if-" Farrah was cut off by Shannon, when it became blatantly obvious just why Shannon had always been so tight-knit with Jeff....the toddler did seem familiar, those eyes! Farrah didn't know whether to be impressed,mor maliciously jealous, but then again, Jeff was gone,mand that realization made tears flow easily, despi keeping her composure."
"Jeff was a gentleman to me that one night, and it was only a one-night,mbut we all know how Jeff portrayed himself: a wild spirit thwt couldn't be lassoed, well, he left me a parting gift, and the last three years, I've kept it a secret. He wasn't father material, he was barely living matter! Now he's fucking dead, and he'll never know his daugher, and she'll never have he father. Don't lecture me! I know it was wrong, but would you do it any differently Farrah?"
Farrah was still a bit surprised...wow! Didn't think Shannon had it in her! But then she came back down, looking at this girl crying emphatically into the well of her palm. Her face an ellipsis, a mystery of nothing, as she dug back into her mask of phalanges.
"Come on now, Shannon. I know what it's like, I know that he must've cared for you enough if he had laid with you...Jeff was always strange, the boldest of all of us, yet I think Henry has become ahem 'bolder' with every drink. He never showed his emotions, that's why he's in the state he is, not caring about life, but that didn't mean he wasn't adept to caring about you, and yours. Come on, you'll hate yourself if you don't make amends. It's hard, hard for us all, and we all mourn in our own, maniacal way...but you will never let yourself down if you don't pay your respects, or say your goodbyes. So let's get beck in thre, okay?"
Shannon looked up, clearing away the tears from her eyes, and with a stone-cold face, nodded her head, taking Farrah's hand, as they exited the stall, and careened through the door, right back into the viewing room. Shannon clasped her daughter to her breasts, who had found her way into the dress, and began to suckle silently from the teat. Farrah smiled at the innocent sight, Shannon, shocked by her child's endurance, smiled, stroking the fine hair on the toddler's head. She went to sit, but Farrah, took her by the hand, and led her to the coffin, both kneeled at the step, and made a half-hearted sign of the cross.
"He looks so peaceful now, it's disgusting that he wanted to just...give up! It makes no sense, Farrah! I feel terrible that I didn't tell him about little Rhonda, but...I mean, look how he was! I hw him so much for doing this to me! Even if he knew about his daughter...would he have done a tuning different. He wasn't father material."
Farrah hesitated, you never answer something as unfiltered as what Shannon said about a mutal friend, especially one that and had loved for years, without sounding heartless.
"You may just be right...I just, I feel so...ugh, and I know it's not right to say this, but I'm so jealous that you were ever able to get that close to Jeff! I know it's stupid, high school pitiful bullshit; but how can you have had gotten so lp Ich love out of him, and I pursued him forever. He never made a move, never seemed to care. Yet, you, the wallflower, you get him, you shouldn't feel bad, Shannon. And he may have been a bad father-figure, but he was a friend, and he might have still done what he did, but you did what you had to at the time, and right-or-wrong, you did it for your child, and you can never be fault for that. I'd have done the same, and I couldn't imagine how hard it has been. If you ever need a friend, you can always look to me. I'm sure Jamie, and Hanna would offer you the same hospitality."
"I think you overestimate our friends' hospitality. But the offer is lovely, and sincere, I can always tell when you're being sincere." Shannon smiled, wiped the tears away, and looked at her former lover's body. He laid at a peace she had never seen him at, and although it was only a few times they've laid as partners, and her true love in Rhonda, so she felt a mixed bag of emotions.
The others were chatting with one-another in the background, and it was a cacophonic symphony of random noises, even Hanna's cheery voice sounded likes squirrelly squeaks, as if all that Shannon hears is not the their voices, but the sudden, intense silence of the lack of breathing from Jeff's corpse. It was both powerful, and terrifying, yet somehow mystifying all-at-once. The rest of the world stopped mattering to her, as the realization that he was gone settled in...she didn't cry, she was past that point of tears, forlorn was across her face, Farrah was as upset, but Shannon's circumstances kept her strong enough, tough enough to be the rock for her former childhood friend. The boys laughed, more a false escape than a hearty, healthy guffaw. It kicked the two women out of the fascination that which the dead heel in them...like idols of a lost time, deteriorating with every passin moment....organic collesiums, where which thousands of stories were laid in the fabric of history....yet ones nobody outside of there group few would here.
They turned to see Jamie sitting next to a silently sobbing Hanna, who had cuddled up close, her strong facade now elieviated by the sudden realization of the setting. Farrah smiled, saw that Jamie was sincere, and certain he would fulfill his childhood fantasy tonight, now with the maturity, and bravado of the man he's now become. Hanna would be like a princess in the moonlight of a master bedroom, colored in sapphire silk, and emulse in mutal sweat. Farrah smiled, as lthe act of creating life always comes from the foolhardy folly of the state of death.
She saw Shannon too was smiling, the dam of happy memories pouring out from every neuron, flooding the tears to well up behind the ducts, too full to pour. She looked down at the suckling child, who then burped, and nuzzled deeply in the overflowing lactating milk of life. Shanon discreetly covered up her breast, as though hiding away the rollings hills of the Landmof Milk and a honey, from which the spigot to the Elixir of Life protrudes.
Henry swiveled around like a top made of snakes, and sipped, and sipped his flask, barely awake as he sat back and lightly snored in the chair. Jamie ignored our cretinous friend, and gave a deliberate peck on Hanna's cheek. At first, she became shocked at Jamie's boldness, but then smiled, and leaned in for a long, loving kiss, over ten years stale, but they both must've agreed thwt it twsted good, and was worth the wait.
"Look at that, maybe that was Jeff's big joke....he did it all for those two to finally rekindle what we've all known should've happened years ago. They look so perfect for each-other, the beauty queen that doesn't know she beautiful, with a mindset that isn't degenerative; just a beatitude of something innocent, and simple. Then you have the nerdy odd-ball that we thought was more a munchkin than a man, that always listed after what he knew he could never have...it's like a god damn rom-com playing out right in-front of the prop corpse....it's beautifully sickening. And what about you, Farrah? Anyman left in your life, or love that needs to be reconciled over our friend's idiotic suicide."
She giggled at the absurdity of everything surrounding her in this time of grieving, but maybe grieving wasn't the answer, and Farrah felt like everything that has happened, the surrounding stories, the tales of their lives, enough to be a series of misfortunate tragedies all played out in real-time, was overshadowing the death of a friend.
But Jeff was gone, and it ended on his terms, he wasn't a part of this situation, he wasn't in the room, he was gone off to something else, more lovely, more horrorifying, and more real than this crazy, fucked-up world. Yes, she was right to think this way, but that was because Jeff became the past the second he slit his wrist, and he will miss out on future stories, he will never see his daughter grow, or possibly rekindle an obvious, albeit, estranged love with Shannon. Shannon would struggle, but she will appreciate every battle to see that baby's face light up in sun glow.
Farrah saw through the obscure, and knew that Jeff would be gone to the ground for rot while Jamie and Hanna married, awaiting the news on their first child, and Henry would be joining Jeff through another ritualistic suicide, just his is far more degrading, painful, and cowardice. As for Farrah, she didn't wuite know how to read her own future...the parlor was her life, the art was as much from her loins as it was from her hands, heirs to her legacy on the canvases of skin. She was happy, but the future for her is only a mystery.
In the following days, the sprinkling of dirt on a casket welded shut covered up the Earth, burying Jeff under the weight of his consequential actions. He was happy, he must've been, and although none of the group of misfits knew of Jeff's reasoning for dying, they knew he must've had a good reason. It was Jeff, after all. Their once fearless leader, now gone. They learned they were all leaders of their own destinies, and even with the ridicule they may have in their hearts, their disdain for a friend gone too soon, they one day would join him in a state of permanent rest, until the sands of time covered them for good.
For now, they turned away, pairing off: Jamie with his delighted, satisfied love in Hanna, Farrah, with her newfound kinship in Shannon, walking away like Gemini, paired for eternity. And Henry, holding his flask of booze, a perfect pair for the destruction of a morbid like, to end as morbidly as it began. Jeff stayed back, alone in a coffin, but a plane of existence far-away from the living. All had gone away, a stone, and epithet all thwt was left of poor Jeff. All but concrete and hedgerows.
No comments:
Post a Comment