“I am unlovable...I have tried to involve myself in other people, in relationships, and even - in my sillier moments - in love...”- Jeff Lindsay
A twenty-two-year-old Malcolm had just finished a routine sanitation of his apartment bathroom. The stainless tile cleanser radiated from the base of the floor and bathtub in the form of a powerfully toxic odor. Malcolm sat on his knees, with a sponge in one hand and no shirt on. He shone with sweat from a hard morning’s work; he knew he needed to take a second shower, hot this time, to eliminate the odor should the detectives come knocking. The problem was the red stains had hardened to the point where it required Malcolm’s finger strength to pick them clean.
One more survey of the bathroom was required to ensure he had been thorough. Malcolm was craned over the sink and tiles; certain there was no more evidence, Malcolm gathered the sponges, rags, Clorox, and tile bleach into the cleaning basket and exited the bathroom. Malcolm crossed to the kitchen, he opened the cabinet under the sink and placed the basket within. Malcolm then sniffed himself and there was no question. He smelled like chemicals; a second shower was necessary.
Malcolm took a bracingly hot shower with the bliss of silent voices. He took the showerhead to not just dowse himself, but rotate it, so that the whole of the curtain and ceramic was rinsed with water and bathing soap. The steam vapor eliminated all olfactory traces. Malcolm completed the final rinse on his black hair and undid the shower faucet. He then stepped outside of the bathtub, and there was deliberately not a towel mat on the floor. He needed to be sure that there was as little evidence of a recent cleanup.
In his bedroom, Malcolm was drawing his black jeans below a black and white shirt with a pattern that reminded Malcolm of barbed wire. He entered the living space with a light comb job on his head. It was afternoon and the TV was well into the last month's headlines; it was April, 2013:
NASA’s Kepler Satellite discovers three potentially habitable planets, manhunt following the Boston Marathon Bombing, Boy Scouts finally allows gay members, nearly forty Boeing Dreamliner aircraft are grounded for repair after fires breakout on Japanese jets, deadly earthquakes erupt in China’s Sichuan Province, and ricin was discovered in a letter to President Obama; Homicide Detectives speculate the ‘St Patrick’s Day Crucifixion’ may be linked to unsolved cases.
A tired Malcolm found himself with a hunger thanks to the expended energy of an all-nighter. Opening the pantry inside the kitchen, Malcolm had white bread, chips, cookies, and cereal. Requiring protein as a Viking requires warfare, Malcolm opened the fridge for the cold cuts. Pastrami, salami, ham, roast beef and cheese; all in the shelf beneath the Bus Boy’s contorted face. The severed head sat deep in blood on a crusty plate, its decay dilated by the temperature. It stared into the soul of its devourer like a telescope seeing the end of time; strands of brown hair veiled those ghostly blue eyes.
Ahh…yes…what to do with you? It was Malcolm’s sarcastic thought. He half-expected the Bus Boy’s head to come to life and speak the answer to him. But he breathed a sigh of relief, there was no hallucination and no rapping of a bird from Hell. There was no twisting of the dead tongue to divide his mind and there was no cause for a mortal repetition of the depiction; yet still there was a necessity for the eminent removal of evidence as the blue eyes shone into the pit of Malcolm’s inner despair.
We’re having another moment…Aren’t we?
He grabbed the assorted meats and stepped to the kitchen island. The refrigerator door was still wide as Malcolm continued to behold his prize’s eyes. He proceeded to grab the white bread and his family bag of barbeque chips. He circled around the island. Malcolm assembled a sandwich while the cold aired out the fridge. He grabbed a protein shake; he gulped in between bites from his food and licked the chip flavoring from his fingertips.
Last night was very bold. And wilder still for me to attempt a memento…But I can see clearly, whereas before my waking state would blend apart; A Carnal Beast that demands haunting abstracts be played out.
Whatever I do to free the skull is probably gonna entail another shower. Will a high-water bill evoke circumstantial suspicion if the cops have questions? Maybe I could boil the skin off? Then what do I do with the skull? Am I gonna smash my art and craft?
Malcolm had been eating with no plate, only the cutting board. He crumbled the empty chip bag and circled to the sink. As he was washing the board off, the refrigerator’s chill hugged his left side like the Reaper tugging him along. The time had just passed One P.M.
Suddenly, Malcolm heard a buzzing on the apartment com. Puzzled, he approached the button and pressed.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Mal!”
Malcolm gasped. “Oh hey!”
Meryl laughed. “You know your shit about picking up the phone?”
“My bad.” Malcolm rushed to think. “I-I was donating blood last night and the time slipped by me. What’s up?”
“I want to come in.”
“Oh, now?” Malcolm asked.
“No, in an hour. I came over just to show you my new dress for tonight.”
Malcolm smiled. “Did you also get a-“
“No!”
He raised a brow. “Well why didn’t you just send a pic-“
“Mal, Sarcasm. Also, you don’t pick up the phone.”
Malcolm looked around. “Well…I’m kind of naked right now darling.”
“That saves us time. Doesn’t it?”
He chose to be sly. “…But I like it when you strip me.”
“Well, I’m too tired for that right now but it might be different at my place.”
“I’m confused…”
She sighed but sounded happy regardless. “Mal. You’re a sweetheart, let me up.”
Malcolm’s head turned to the kitchen and his pupils contracted like the time he hit the screaming speedbump. He unlocked the latch on his door. “Come on up.”
In a heightened state of panic, Malcolm flailed over to the refrigerator and cupped the bottom of the bloody plate with one hand. Using the other to grab the scalp, Malcolm carried it out and placed it next to the refrigerator. Grabbing a large handful of paper towels, Malcolm began a frantic scrub of the base of the fridge. He then took out a massive sheet of aluninum and balled it around his trophy. It was then that he sprinted to the bathroom and flushed the roll of towels. Malcolm reemerged into the living room, only to realize that the bloody plate and aluminum head still on the kitchen counter. Malcolm sprinted over and threw the Foil ball into the freezer; he began a vigourous rinse of the plate.
His senses were acute enough to slow down as he heard the door open. He looked over and there she was, peering over as she closed the door. Meryl was wearing a generic Hot Topic shirt she had owned since high school which fit her still. Over that was a black leather jacket over her blue jeans; she was setting her purse and shopping bag on the floor.
“Hey Honey!” He looked down to make sure the blood had all rinsed down the drain.
“Weren’t you naked a moment ago?” She asked.
Malcolm looked back at her and put the plate down, turning off the sink. “You said something about being tired, so I didn’t think you were in the mood.”
She approached and noticed the plate he had been washing. He closed in and tried to kiss her. She paused him. “It’s okay that you were clearly just breaking your diet.”
He poked her, “Lookey here.” He said sarcastically, “I resent these accusations.”
“You were clearly eating before I came up.” She laughed. “Plus, the TV is on.”
He flashed his brows. “Yea well my secret ricin plot was foiled.”
“Uh huh.” She finally kissed him and smiled, “You didn’t deny it.”
“The blinds are closed.” Malcolm said poetically.
“Good. Keeps things between us until tonight.”
“Does that mean you want to crash here?”
She shook her head while laughing. “Could you not sound like we’re frat bros?”
“Okay. You want to sleep over?”
“Now you sound like an eighth grader!” She still laughed.
“What do I call it if we’re not having sex?”
“It’s just ‘Staying the night!” She exclaimed. “Everybody I’ve ever dated usually has to beg me to ‘crash.”
“I thought that was what made you stick around.” Malcolm said. “…I never started begging…”
Meryl cupped his cheek with one hand. “I stuck around cause I’m the one who asked you out to begin with.”
Malcolm sweetly kissed her hand. “You sure you don’t want me to be worth it right now?”
“Not until after our date tonight.” She then swung over to the refrigerator, opened it and grabbed one of Malcolm’s coconut waters. As Malcolm’s heart picked up where it left off, she shut the door and took a gulp. “When the fuck are you gonna start buying Dasani like everyone else?”
Malcolm flashed his brows. “When the fuck are you gonna watch Chinatown with me?”
“When the fuck are you gonna ask me to live with you?” She flashed her brows.
Malcolm gasped with his eyes. “Meryl…”
She shrugged. “Just saying, we could watch whatever we want…whenever we wanted…”
“We’ve only been dating for a year!”
She fluttered her eyes. “Only a year huh?”
“You know that I don’t know how this works…”
“Clearly.” She officially seemed solemn as she finished her water.
Malcolm stammered. “…If I couldn’t ask you out, what makes you think that I’ll know when it’s appropriate to start sharing a roof with someone?”
Her lips were pursed as she turned to retrieve the bag she set by the door before turning towards the bedroom. “Your being too careful, Mal. I already got close to you, now reach out more.” She shut the door.
Malcolm stared blankly before immediately withdrawing the tinfoil ball from the freezer, his brain did nothing as he chucked the head into the garbage bin. The lid closed just in time for Meryl to emerge from the bedroom. as she was in the process of undoing her hair tie.
She noticed Malcolm standing there as if he awaited her judgement. “Is there something wrong?”
“Do you want to move in?” Malcolm blurted out.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake Mal...”
Malcolm stammered again. “Meryl, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do!”
She cupped the bridge of her nose, “You can’t just force the question like that…Not when I brought it up.”
“But I thought that was what you wanted!” Malcolm held out his hand. “Honey, you just got here, and you shoehorn the next step at me like that?”
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
She seemed mad. “Mal! Sarcasm.”
“Okay…no.” Malcolm pointed at her. “You don’t just-“
“Drop the fucking finger right now.”
Malcolm obeyed and continued. “You of all people aren’t gonna throw Paramore lyrics at me and mean it ‘sarcastically.”
“Mal…” She cupped both hands in front of her face. “Remember the second time we fucked? And you immediately said, ‘I love you?”
Malcolm’s head shook. “I don’t see the connection.”
She nodded. “I didn’t think you would, but it’s the same fucking thing!” Without a breath, Meryl stormed into the bathroom. The flabbergasted Malcolm stood with his mouth hanging open like a drunk chimpanzee. He didn’t know if a second or sixty had passed, he snapped out of it when he heard the shower faucet turn on. Malcolm flipped the lid to his trash can, lifted the bag out and knotted it.
Malcolm hastily scrambled the door open and moved down the apartment hallway. In his panic, forgetting which way the staircase was, Malcolm turned right and strode down the apartments. He stopped by the elevator and pressed the button. Malcolm tapped his foot three times before he remembered that the stairwell was just behind him. He then pushed through the door and hurried to the basement.
Malcolm emerged down a cramped corridor that was grey and dark. He came upon an open space where the building’s furnace sat; dead center of the wall was the latch. Malcolm looked down at both ends of the hall and promptly moved to open the furnace hatch. After throwing the bag into the fire, Malcolm shut it closed and tightened the seal before running back to Room 182.
Malcolm arrived with a sweat on his brow, but the veins were those of ice. After shutting the door loudly, he saw the trash bin was open and empty. Malcolm immediately made way for the kitchen cabinet and withdrew a fresh, black garbage bag. Meryl stepped out of the bathroom with a black towel drying her body and a second around her shoulders. Malcolm knew that his face expressed the guilt of a dog who shat. Ergo, he stared into the bin despite Meryl staring at him. She went back into the bedroom without a word to utter as Malcolm replaced the garbage bag.
Would you go say you’re sorry, you fucking asshat!
For the first time since she’d deflowered him, Malcolm felt compelled to knock before opening the door. He did so anyway and Meryl was already shirted with a casual red over her underwear. She was staring out of Malcolm’s window to the city. Malcolm unclenched his fist and began to rub his palms; an attempt to feel warm and welcoming. As Meryl turned around she sat down on Malcolm’s bed and patted the spot next to her.
A nervous Malcolm sat down. “I misread the-”
“I know.” Meryl said as she rubbed his head.
“So, we’re still on for the night?” He wanted to rub into her hand like a cat.
“I’m not gonna dump you for acting stupid.” She kissed his temple. “You’re better than that anyway.”
“I really don’t feel like I am.” He hollowed.
“Well, I’ve dated retards who thought they we’re brilliant.” She assured. “Believe me, what you are is cute.”
“So, what did I do?” he asked innocently.
“Look, I’m sorry I snapped at you.” She sorrowed. “After dating for a year, I should know that the mind tricks don’t really work with you. I was up all-night studying and I’m still coming down off the Adderall...But after tonight, we’ll both be on cloud nine and we can dream about what comes next."
“So…where did you want to eat?”
“Just something new for you.”
“Some ‘place.’ Honey.” Malcolm corrected.
“Don’t grammar nazi me!” She laughed.
“If it’s that new Caribbean place, I tried it with Javier. The shrimp looked like it was coated in puke.”
“Well don’t you worry about that.” She assured him. “…I had to get a reservation.”
“Wow, fancy.”
Meryl adjusted herself to face her back against the frame of the bed. Malcolm followed and they were soon locked shoulder to shoulder.
“What time?” Malcolm closed his eyes and yawned.
“Let’s just say that we can nap for now.”
“Perfect.”
Malcolm opened his eyes alone and he knew Meryl would be just out the door. He looked at his phone by the bed, the time was eighteen twenty-two. After stretching, he stood and opened the blinds to eye the evening city. He entered the apartment living room to see Meryl pacing around the couch while talking on the phone. She took notice of Malcolm.
“Okay. We’ll see you soon. Bye.” She hung up.
“Who are we seeing?” Malcolm queried. “Was that the restaurant?”
“That was my sister.” She scratched the back of her head. “We’ll have to leave early; she needs a ride to her Prom.”
Malcolm raised a brow. “Whoa. That shit is tonight?”
“It’s April, Mal. She’s graduating in two weeks.
“Why can’t your parents do it? Isn’t that their responsibility?”
“It’s gonna be late for them to pick her up.” Meryl answered. “Plus, we’re already going out tonight so it’s just a diversion.”
Malcolm raised his hands. “You signed us up for two.”
“Mal, our reservation isn’t until after eight, it’ll be fine. We’ll just pick her up as we leave.”
“So, we’re not babysitting?”
“Mal, I promised you this was your night, and it is.”
“Okay.”
“With rush hour traffic in mind, we should get ready now.”
***
Malcolm drove the car in a modestly blue, buttoned shirt while Meryl sat beside him wearing a dark black dress. Her little sister, Beth was sitting with some dorky looking, suited kid in the backseat. Beth was brunette headed like Meryl but both the face and supposedly her personality was more reflective of their mother, her dress was dark blue and the red flower her date used to ask her out was attached to her chest. The Dork named Merrick wore a shitty Bill Nye bow tie over a blue dress shirt; for some reason, he decided it would look cool to rock the 1930s suspenders. His face didn’t help either, both the braces and glasses were the only things shielding his yellow teeth and acne marked face
Malcolm adjusted his sight back to the busy city street as a light turned green. After exiting right and passing along a street beset by trees, they came upon a single-story building to their right side. Every window was brightly lit and radiant while a large crowd of teenagers shuffling slowly into the mouth of the front entrance. Bouncers kept the crowd in a compact line, and they walked into the rays of light beaming from the four open doors.
The parking lot to their left contained a sea of parked vehicles and for half the cars seen, a group of three teenagers could be spotted. All were geekily overdressed unless they were an obvious jock. The women all wore dresses of pink, white or blue. A long line of vehicles was also carpooling at the front entrance to drop their teenagers off with their dates.
“Go ahead and find a space.” Meryl pointed.
Malcolm held his hand like he was presenting the view. “We will be trapped in this lot.”
“It’ll be fine.”
Malcolm protested. “But I can just pull through and be out.”
“Well, the line isn’t moving, so just go ahead and claim a spot.”
“But why would I do that we have reservations for eight?” Malcolm checked his watch. “There’s no restaurant here.”
Meryl squinted. “Mal. Remember what I said about borrowing my brain sometimes?”
“Yes.”
She blinked. “I need this to be one of those times.”
Malcolm looked to the floor, and Meryl’s legs, before flipping the left signal and gunned the accelerator to claim a freed space; every occupant shook as he came to a halt.
“Goddamn, Mal!” Beth called.
“My car, my fault if I scrape it.” he responded as he set the car to park.
“You know you need to cool it in there.” Beth started as she and Merrick unbuckled themselves. “The bouncers are our underpaid coaches, don’t go pissing them off.”
Malcolm spun to look at the pair. “Yea, trust me. I don’t go to dances. I make people who have information dance. You know? Shooting bullets by their feet?” Malcolm made finger guns in the air.
“No. I really don’t.” Beth responded.
Meryl looked at them. “Go ahead inside.” She handed them two tickets.
“What are you two doing?” Beth asked suspiciously as she took them both.
Meryl maintained her cocky grin. “I’m graciously not holding your hand like Mom and Dad asked. Now get the hell in there; you only live once.”
Merrick looked at them both with his own suspicion before looking at Beth. Beth looked at him and dismissed the notion by leaning in to open his door for him. They exited the car and shut the doors quick enough for Beth to grab Merrick by the hand and dash away.
“Was that…was that a Suicide Silence reference?” Malcolm asked pleasantly.
Meryl shrugged. “Hey, I’m speaking her language. Comes with being a big sis.” She reached over to turn the ignition key and the car shut off.
“What are we doing here Meryl?” Malcolm looked across the lot in front of them.
“Don’t know.” A new pair of prom tickets magically appeared in Meryl’s hands. Malcolm failed to process the sight, even while staring at them. She continued to tap them against her lap. “Apparently someone doesn’t dance...we're just chaperoning I guess...”
“Are those…Meryl is this what you meant by our reservation?”
Her eyes bulged as he stared back. “Yes, Dumbass; You are my reimagined prom date. I wasted no time on making an elaborate ‘Go to Prom with me’ involving flowers, mostly you think flowers are stupid because they die on a three-day average.”
Malcolm’s hollow, sunken eyes seemingly pulled themselves into the light. The whites around the brown pupils glistened as he stared with a straight lip. “…Literally one if you have a cat…”
She simply laughed at his cluelessness. She slowly started to lean in. “Come in Corporal Space Dog, this is Earth talking…” her whispers were soothing. “You are out of the hot zone...”
Her hand was touching Malcolm’s arm, and his head slowly fell onto her shoulder. “So you’re…”
“It’s the Prom you never had Honey.”
He closed his eyes. “How? The tickets I mean.”
“Shush. We're technically adult chaperones...” She began to stroke Malcolm’s black hair. “There’s a lot that makes what you’re fighting for worth it.”
He stammered. “…Do you mind being all the good I see?”
“Of course, I don’t.” Meryl whispered back.
Malcolm trembled.
She seemed worried. “Are you okay?”
“Meryl…I don’t think I-I…”
She interrupted him. “Mal, I know that you think you’re heartless; but you’re Human, are you not? Otherwise, you wouldn’t give a shit about anything. Ever.”
Malcolm’s eyes started to sink all over again. “I’m a k-”
“I know you’re gonna kill it on the dance floor with me!”
Malcolm’s eyes opened. “I’m…I don't know how to dance.”
“You’re overthinking it.” She continued to soothe him. “Back at my Prom, I danced like it were a sitcom! You sort of just need… help letting go.”
Malcolm was oblivious to what she placed in his mouth, but he instinctively closed his lips anyway and his sunken eyes bulged when the smell hit him. He looked down and puckered his lips upward to see a marijuana cigarette rolled to Caribbean perfection.
“Whoa!” Malcolm was respectfully careful not to drop the joint as he held it in his hands. All Meryl did was laugh while Malcolm frantically looked out all the windows. “This is a High School Prom! There are guards watching for this shit!”
“Watching the kids Mal. We’re not slinging it and we kicked our teenagers out, so we’re fine.”
“Honey! I get drug tested!”
“Don’t you know your Colonel?”
Malcolm almost gasped. “He is not the person you go to for this.”
“Then you’re C.O.”
Malcolm’s eyes bulged. “You want me to tell Garfield I got high?”
“Fashion a story of it being an accident.”
He laughed. “I accidentally smoked weed?”
“You though it was a closed cigarette until it was too late.”
Malcolm squinted. “You realize he’s seen ‘The Office’, right?”
“If he doesn’t buy it, then you go to the Colonel. It’s one time, he’s not gonna toss you aside over that.”
Malcolm sighed with a slight grin, he looked at the joint in hand. He looked outside every window to know the coast was clear. He grinned at her fully as he brought the joint to his lips. Meryl brought out her purse-pocketed lighter and did Malcolm the honor of igniting it.
Malcolm took a single two second drag which successfully caught a bright flame. He began a vicious cough that sent spittle flying and he faced his left window as to stop any from hitting Meryl. Her laughter was so loud it scared him they would be caught as he passed the joint over to her. By the time he looked over to Meryl once more, she was in mid-drag; a funnel of smoke began to exhume from Meryl’s mouth. “I still got it!” she exclaimed with a fist bump.
It was after they entered the doorways that they were beholden to a set of windows viewing an ice-skating ring that had been repurposed into a ball-lit dance floor at the far end. The Couple emerged to a series of round tables made for groups to sit and dine at, together and the scent of Meryl’s perfume on both.
“I-hmmm…Are they serving steaks?” Malcolm gasped. “What the fuck? It’s a buffet at a Prom!”
“Easy there. No need to be loud!” Meryl smiled with red eyes.
“You kidding me? I haven’t eaten since noon, this is PERFECT!”
Meryl laughed. “Chill Mal! You’re gonna get us looked at!”
“Honey! I’m about to wolf a chicken like it’s a victim!”
She grabbed his shoulder. “We got hours yet, Mal.” She whispered, “And eating will kill the high…”
Malcolm looked at the packed dance floor. “So, we’re burning up an appetite?”
Meryl began to walk backwards, toward the dance, with Malcolm in hand. “You knew this shit came with having a woman…” her eyes half open.
They were halted just past the first line of dancing teenagers, deep enough to blend in without being seen. It was the audio speakers blurring a familiar guitar strumming of an emo anthem. In sync, their feet began a Chaplin twirl back and forth; their hips entered the churning rhythm of The Sharpest Lives. With a dual spinning at the end of the first chorus, Malcolm was helpless to stop himself from pulling in to share a kiss with Meryl. Their pace increased with the new instrumental buildup.
“…I’ve really been…
…On a Bender and it shows…
…So why don’t you blow me…
…One kiss before she Goes…