I was half awake in the early morning light. No one else is ever up at this hour. It rarely happens for me anymore, I used to do it all the time when I first got here. Call me weird but I'd imagine someone lying next to me. Now that I have someone to wake up to I guess my subconcious is refusing to let me miss the opportunity.
I don't mind. In fact I'm sort of floating right now. I was able to take my medications without waking him up. The sheets and quilts hold tight to us in the billow of the wind through the drapes on my window. The misty morning is a little cooler than it should be. He's warm and his hands keep finding me and letting me slip away just to find me again.
I listened for a bit to the sounds he was making between slow heavy breaths. I watched his eyes behind shut lids. I paid attention to the thrashing. I feel, in his sleep, perhaps he's running. His face contours as though he's been flooded with fear. Now my hearts racing, how bizaar. I know neither of us are in danger and yet his levels are elevated and I know he's unaware so I'm stressing out.
I decide to be brave. I lean in and kiss him and the thrashing stops. There's that yellow warmth I'd felt the first time he spoke directly to me. He's still asleep and pulling himself on top of my chest to press himself into me and he's huffing like an old reliable dog on the porch in the middle of summer. His hair tickles my chin. His breath whispers on my neck. This is peace.
Then I'm hearing wheels pull into the gravel driveway, almost panicky. I don't dare move though. Send Polo into the vortex like that, throw him down. He's totally unaware of what's happening in the real world and he could be hanging by a thread in what ever reality he's stuck in.
So I whisper, "Polo..."
Nothing. After a time I try again.
"Polo."
His eyes open and they're widened, startled but for a deeper reason than most people reveal. He finds me and then he finds the window and then he's easing into my chest again. He's staring out the window, not really absent minded but with thoughts that spin a lot slower than they were. I'll let him catch up to speed for a second.
The front door opens and shuts hard but it's not like there's anger behind it. It's like someone's escaping something. When I hear feet on the stair case I say, "Polo. My brother needs me."
"You in trouble?" He asks.
I respond, "Of course not. Tyson's incapable of rage. All of that went to me."
Polo nuzzles me and then slides away rather than rolls. I stand, cross the hardwood floor, and pull a deep dark purple bathrobe from the left top corner of a white room divider embroidering a cherry blossom tree. I love that miniature wall. As I pull the rope around my waist and tie it off my bedroom door swings open with a curtesy knock. I don't bother with locks because there are no secrets between my brother and I but I forgot all about nosey, unfamiliar company. Truth be told though I was awake long before any of them could manage. They're wasted, probably slept through Tyson's rough introduction too.
"You had fun last night." He says to me.
I nod, "I did."
A smile spreads across his fearful face. The fear, for just a moment washes away. Is this pride he holds for me?
I shake me from my thoughts because while it's a story worth telling he's the one who needed the conversation. So I say, "What's wrong?"
"Why is the Marchioness here?" He asks as his brow furrows.
Again, it's not in anger. It's in worry, he already has lines across his college boy forehead. His brows are bushy and unkempt, his lips are plump and cracked, and his cute ears that are way too small for his ears are as red as the blood my hallucinations are streaking down the door behind him.
So I tell him, "Yeah. Right, the leprechaun royalty uh- I don't know, exactly. It was a really weird, like end of a coming of age movie, indie alternative type, one in a million chance of happening kind of nights and I have no idea where it came from."
He looks at the naked boy in my bed. I look at the naked boy in my bed. The naked boy in the bed is staring at us like were multi colored fish in a tank at the aquarium his school had a lock in at.
"Is this project boy?" Tyson asks me.
I nod, "Yeah. We're doing musical theatre or something along the lines as our after school club. I'm actually kind of excited, I've got some ideas. Of course, we'll need some adult help if your interested."
"Always." He says, "Wake them all up. We got to go somewhere."
I sigh, "Wasn't exactly looking forward to the goodbye."
He laughs, "No. They're going too. They can afford to get away for the weekend. I need to show you something cool and we need some help. I'm sure once they hear the pitch none of them will say no."
Polo is now sitting up and does not care that he is naked. He's got a big goofy smile on his face like he understood everything my brother just said. The next words from his mouth kind of excite me and it's probably just because he's trying so hard with his american accent, "Road trip?"
"Si..." Says my brother as he turns to leave, "Hurry the fuck up. Oh, and leave the March princess behind."
Polo jumps up and puts his hands on the back of my shoulder. I ease into his touch and I smile when he says, "Evil. Fucking. Bitch."
I give him the laugh the joke deserves, even though it's really not a joke and decide to change the topic right quick and address something important. I pull away from him and open my robe to tie it back around him. I'd say I'm surprise we both fit but let's be real, I'm not all skin and bones but I sure am small in design. All of seventeen and broad but thin as a wafer cookie. He feels so thick compared to me. His pecks press against mine, his arms swallow me, his head is the same size as mine though so there's that.
I can reach his lips though. I'm tall enough, at least. I've got a nice, albeit hairy, bubble but. My calves are hard as stone from all the walking I did too and from school back home. In his eyes though I'm something that fits. So it's as easy as singing when I speak to him, "You almost let something darker than you allow you to make a decision that would have taken everything from you. You realize this?"
There is no hesitation in his response, "Yes."
"Why would you let it get that chaotic before you asked someone for help? Let's say I didn't show up. Let's say you didn't even kill her, you caught yourself. My hand was never there. Polo stopped Polo. What happens next for Polo in that timeline if I didn't exist? That rage, that fear, that emptiness would need to find the surface somehow." I realize, a little too late, he probably only understands half of what I'm saying.
Still, he continues to surprise me.
He says, "Death and all his amigos come to play poker with a fish and they all look like dogs. I am that fish, William. El Oceano es negro con aceties de espiritus oscuros." The ocean is black with the oils of dark spirits.
I get that. Even now, though I know it's not real, the very floor is writhing with the disembodied intestines of whoever or what ever but I don't dare mention it. Tyson says my hallucinations are not to be confused with day dreams. Voicing daydreams is bliss but voicing a hallucination is like confessing to a lie. It is the darkest part of my subconscious trying to hurt me. My therapist says that no one should live life in a constant state of distortion and that avoiding the truth can cause damage and cause them to elevate. What am I lying about? Am I lying to myself about something important?
"What about you?" He asks in his own language, "Why did you wait so long to talk to us. I don't think I've ever seen you speak before the last day of class."
I pull away taking the rope and the robe with me to find some clothes out of my closet. I hear the thunder rolling in and know I'll need both some sunny clothes and my typical attire. The cream colored Khakis, the cream colored jacket, the cream colored boots, and a plain white undershirt. For when it gets hot I'll slip into the jean shorts, the shirt can be reused because I like how big it is and how it swallows me and a pair of flip flops would be great but I broke them yesterday so I'll be taking my sandals instead.
"William." I hear Polo say and I turn around to find him holding up his clothes from yesterday all shredded from what ever he and I did last night.
So I throw him a pair of skinny jeans, a black V-neck tee my brother is always trying to get me to wear, and some new white sneakers I've yet to try on. He's painted in the pants but the rest of it fits and I tell him he's got money so he can buy his own clothes on the road and he laughs at me but I know he knows I'm serious. I ain't got time for stupid. It interferes with the honesty in my lyrics.
Speaking of which... I hear no music today. No music but as I'm walking out into the corridor with him I mistake the light fixture resembling an oil lamp for Luceria's severed head and ignore like I'm supposed to as I continue to search for what could be off in my spirit right now. Where am I going wrong when things are finally going right?
I'm relieved to find Luceria alive. She's sitting at the island talking so casually with Omar. The two of them have a solid relationship. I'm glad that's something I didn't have to be involved for. Guzman is dragging himself from a coushion fort on the floor with groggy eyes and some really nice looking checkered green and red boxers. A little christmassy for the middle of may but whatever, ya know.
Ander is- oh damn. I'm pretty sure this isn't on purpose but he's sleeping with his but on the wall and his legs are hanging out the window, bending at the knees, and his head is in, um, I think those are cotton balls glued to his face. Yes. He's waking up and he is very confused.
"We did an art project last night." Says Samu who just walked out of the bathroom and his entire torso is painted to look like dragon skin. Yes. They did. That's very interesting. Samu's eyes are also very heavy with restlessness and confusion and in his hands are the same cotton that's glued onto Ander's face.
I'd ask but I'm not particularly sure I'm ready for the answer.
Guzman walks into my kitchen and I see the beautiful painting of a moon and the night sky on his back. Where... where is Nadia?
"Help!" What's with all these questions being answered when I never say them out loud. We look up and there she is in this little cubbie hole in the ceiling where a high up window over looks the garden we have in the back yard. She's covered in bright red glitter and hides behind a net that's been sprayed in silver sparkles. I'm very, very concerned but no one's injured so I have nothing to say.
The boys move quick building a human ladder to go get her and itty bitty little me is left to fetch her from up there and I don't wait to make sure that's what they want with words. Their eyes say plenty. I climb them stepping on thick thighs and man shoulders and my quick fingers go to work on the rope. It's been nailed into the wood, what the actual fuck?
My fingers are strong though so it falls to the left and in through the front door walks the March Princess and her jester and I smile because they look like dirty fish I just pulled into a boat. She's freaking out and he's so tired he starts chewing on the rope only to realize it's coated in something nasty and full of chemicals so he just starts digging at it like a cat. I look up and offer Nadia my hands and she says, "Consider this my audition, okay?"
"For what?" I say as she climbs down my back.
She calls up to me from the floor, "I'd make a really good stage hand."
"Oh yeah?" I ask as I jump down onto the floor, "How did you get yourself in this situation? And how often am I going to have to pry you from the skylights back stage?"
They're all laughing as they help the March princess get free and Omar tells me, "I did it. She kept trying to leave so I made her a beautiful princess and locked her away in a tower."
She throws a punch and he ducks causing her to slip over his shoulder but he catches her. He starts swinging her around and her laugh is so very cute as they spin around my living room.
Tyson enters the room and all of us are here so I tell them, "Mi hermano quiere invitarlos a todos a unas vacaciones para el fin de semana." My brother wants to invite you all to holiday for the weekend.
Then I realize my mistake because the evil. Fucking. Bitch is still here with us. He looks at her for some time with a scowl, uncertain about it all, but continues with his speech;
"There's a brand new virtual experience opening up and the makers are big fans of my work. They've put together some software based on the fictional universe I've created and they want me and a group of people of my choosing to test it out. It's the closest thing to real modern technology can give us." He says it all really fast and I know I'll have to translate but I'm so infuriated with the idea I can't.
"That's a lie!" I spit out, "What's going on with you Tyson. This isn't like you. We've been very anti- big corporations for some time and now you're telling me you trust them enough to let them lock us all up in a room with their expensive software. There's something you're not telling me, and it has something to do with her."
I point at Carla. Those who can understand english fluently are more invested in the drama between my brother and I than anything we actually have to say but now that I've pointed her out everyone is more than concerned.
"Is it in the city?" Asks Guzman.
My brother shakes his head, "It's in the jungle."
You could cut the tension in the room with a knife. My brother and I have never argued and still no anger takes over his face but still my rage is bubbling. He's got something going on and I doubt, by any means, he'd tell me in front of them all but I'm involved in their lives right now and I can't let my brother fall down a rabbit hole and drag all of us with him.
Ander's voice comes from the other side of the room all disoriented and tired, "Estoy atascado." I'm stuck.
As Omar goes to help his partner Luceria says something that makes me lose my head, "Vamos y averiguamos." Let's go and find out.
