There was something about the silence of an empty home I hated. Sure you could drown it out with music or TV, but the loneliness you feel can’t be simply snuffed out. It wasn’t painful, because I was used to this feeling, especially when Carter left. This lingering feeling of disappointment. Thoughts would float in my head as I stared at the TV, playing Tekken 7 absentmindedly.
I just wished she stayed more often.
I mean I don’t wanna be clingy but…
How could I even bring it up?
Fuck this. I need a smoke.
Cigarette smoke never really went away, so I got dressed to walk outside to do the deed. It was another sunny day, the cold still striking and constant. I sat down and sparked my old lighter a few times before it finally sparked. Putting the stick to my lips, I inhaled the toxic fumes, letting it fade my stress away as I blew the smoke out. After about a few minutes of idly staring at the slick street, I decided to adventure the town, at least get something productive done.
The down, as predicted wasn’t as busy. The older people who stayed here were in the house or sick allowing me to park wherever I wanted and got out. As I did so, I heard a familiar voice.
“Rockstar!”
I looked up to see Samuel Cross, a journalist, and big wrestling fan. I have never really been friends with a fan of the business, so being cool with Sam was something new. He was pale as the snow on the ground, shorter with straight long brown hair. He shook my hand as we walked along the sidewalk. “Bro, just call me Kris,” I responded, laughing.
“Bro, kayfabe, right?” He joked.
I rolled my eyes at the word. “Dead as fucking disco.”
Sam laughed with me, bumping shoulders as we continued walking. “I missed those days. I thought it was all real.”
I sighed, letting some cold air escape my lips. “That’s what you think, but I rather not get jumped by some redneck hick because He thought I actually broke his favorite’s ankle.”
“Oh come on, you really believe those fuckin’ stories? It has to be some over-exaggeration or some shit.”
“I dunno,” I shrugged. “And I don’t wanna find out.”
Sam scrunched his face, giving up on the topic.
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I looked at his clothes. Under his coat was his formal-casual look of a buttoned shirt and tie, with black slacks and old Converse sneakers he said he had since college. “Work was busy?”
He moved his hand back and forth, signaling a so-so pattern. “Sorta. Of course, the office was closed so I had to do a lot of video interviews today.”
“For what?”
“Some shit about Christmas Fest,” He answered with a sigh. “You know the people here hate not celebrating their holidays.”
Oh yeah, I was only here for a few months, and I saw how up and arms the people were at the mayor about canceling events. “Bro, they freaked out over the Arbor Day festival.”
Sam scoffed. “I almost had to report on old fuckers getting hit with tear gas at city hall.”
“Not that I’d complain.”
We laughed as we reached a four-way intercession. “Ya know,” Sam said, elbowing my sides lightly. “The museum is still open.”
A smile crept across my face. “Money still working there?”
“I wouldn’t be mentioning it if he wasn’t.”
“Sounds like I know how I’m spending my Tuesday.”
With a mischievous chuckle, we hurried out of the cold into the Hulwater Museum.
Who wanted a history of Hulwater? Lord knows, but somebody back in 2003 with way too much money funded the place. From what I heard, this place was just a field trip hot zone for the schools nearby and on the off chance a tourist attraction. We walked in, feeling the heater blast while we walked in the lobby. It had a slick, modern look thanks to the renovations. Jim had moved here two years ago and donated some cash to give the museum a makeover, so it’s the only thing in town that didn’t look like it was fresh from Salem or Saved by the Bell. We walked over to the receptionist whom Sam somewhat knew, and after handing us masks, she pointed us over to Money.
Money (or Monty Smith, but who’s calling him that?) was the only younger person of color I was cool with in Hulwater. He saw him in uniform, the small afro he took care to cut on his own, the circular glasses that he had hung lower on his nose for the style, and the gray polo he half-tucked into his black pants displayed the Hulwater Museum logo. One thing that Money was the best at code-switching. He talked in a way those old people would understand, and it paid off with him being the popular tour guide. We shadowed the small group, as they all stood relatively far away with masks on. Money also followed protocol and stood six feet apart from the people he guided. His moves were almost robotic like he could guide people in his sleep.
“Actually,” Money said in his proper voice. “The funny thing about Hulwater is that it was supposed to be named Holewater.” He pointed to a man in an old ass picture, enlarged digitally for all to see. He was posed sitting down. He had a menacing stare, slicked-back hair, and a small mustache accompanying his upper lip. “The founder, Hans Gerhart, was a German immigrant looking for fortune in 1868. He found that using the local wells to make a profitable portable water business. When he had enough wealth and a solid community, a local asked Hans for the name of the town. Hans answered with ‘Holewater’ but his accent was so thick the man thought he said Hulwater.”
The group laughed at the plausible story. The funniest part was he died of smallpox before he could correct it, but it oddly didn’t land with a few people, so it was taken out of the routine. Shame, That shit was hilarious to me.
We walked up to Money as the group left; his friendly smile and wonderful posture shifted immediately into a natural gaze and a rather natural hunch. He turned to face us. “Wassup.”
“Yo,” I responded, shaking his hand. He was just about my height, just a bit skinnier. “You killing it, bro.”
He groaned as he moved to bump fists with Sam. “Dawg, I’m like a bad day away from eating a shotgun.”
Sam’s hand waved away his comment. “Aw come on. Money. You’re a natural!”
Money scoffed and rubbed his face. “Sure. What time is it?”
“Quater to three,” I answered.
“I’m almost off. Thank fuck.” Sam’s dead stare turned to me. “Y’all this bored? I know y’all don't know my schedule.”
“You could say that…” Sam bumped shoulders with Sam, raising his eyebrows. “We’re probably gonna go to Mike’s after this, right Kris?”
I nodded. I thought of Inviting Carter over to my place, so I made a mental note to decide whether to make a raincheck or not.
“Well shit, I’m in.” Money clapped his hands, his demeanor getting better.
As the two conversed, I leaned against the wall and texted Carter.
‘Hey, you free tonight?’
I’d assume she said yes, so I’d smile, thinking of what we could possibly do.