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"Um, no, you don't. You always have to be portrayed as the poor little boy. Everyone hates you, no one cares about
you, the world is out to get you." She was less than a foot in front of me. I knew she was mad and I waited for the inevitable
slap. "Fuck you, Nic." She brought up her knee and I crumpled to the ground.
"You... bitch..." I was in a fetal
position, clenching every muscle I had. "What the hell... did you do that for?"
Jayme kneeled down beside my head.
"Because you deserve it. Not just for tonight, but for everything." She stood up and I opened my eyes. "Are you going to
be okay?"
"Like you care." The pain was receeding a little. It was more a dull throb than a stabbing pain. I slowly
rolled over and stood up, bent at the waist.
"I do. I don't want my neighbours to call the cops, that's all." She
turned and started walking towards her house.
"Typical."
"Pardon me?" She was on her front step, opening
the door.
"I said 'TYPICAL'. Spoiled little rich bitch." I have no idea what I was trying to prove, but it felt good
to get all this out. After being bottled up for years, the release was quite nice.
"Whatever." She went inside and
turned to look back at me. "When you grow up, give me a call, Nic."
"FUCK YOU!!" I got in my car and revved the engine.
She slammed her door closed and I took off for home.
I managed to make it back into bed without further incident and
fell into one of the deepest sleeps I've ever had.
When I woke the next morning, I knew it was late. Very late. The
sun wasn't in it's usual 8am position and the day felt late. I rolled over and looked at my clock - 2:27pm. Beside the clock
was a note from Mickey:
'Hey, you were sound asleep and I didn't want to wake you. Call you after work. Later.'
I
stood up and went into the shower, carefully prodding the side of my head to see how the swelling was. I checked the mirror
while I brushed my teeth and noticed that not only was the swelling going down, but the bruising was almost the same yellowish-green
as a semi-ripe banana. Very attractive.
I made my way downstairs and headed out to check my mail. A great benefit
of working from home, outside of the ability to sleep in without anyone getting all riled up, was the fact that I was pretty
much guaranteed to have mail every day. I felt bad for those people who didn't get much mail - especially those who only
got bills. I reached in and took out my usual three inch pile of envelopes and a small box, about the size of a paperback.
I
headed back into the house, sorting the mail as I went - bill, bill, statement, bill, subscription notice, accountant newsletter,
bill, letter from Theresa's kids, donation request. I set the envelopes down on the hall table and carried the box into the
kitchen while I made something to eat. I racked my memory for any recollection of ordering something, but couldn't come up
with anything.
It sat in front of my plate while I ate my sandwich. I picked it up and shook it - no sound. It
didn't weigh that much - maybe a few ounces. The return address was blurry, probably from being dropped in the rain at some
point or something. I decided to leave it on the table until Mickey came home. I wasn't being a chicken shit, I just wanted
someone there in case something went wrong and he could phone the police. I remember reading about all sorts of nasty viruses
and powders being delivered in the mail after the attacks, so I think I was right in being a little wary.
After my
lunch, I headed upstairs to do some work. As much as I'd have liked to take the rest of the day off, I felt a little guilty
for letting so much time go to waste already. I worked on Mr. Tynson's tax forms and put the box out of my head.
Around
6pm, I heard Mickey's truck turn the corner to our street and I ran out of the house. He pulled into his driveway and cut
the engine.
"What the hell's up with you? Did you miss me?" He batted his eyelashes and pursed his lips.
"No,
fucker. Come with me." I opened the door to his truck and practically hauled him out. I was still dressed in my sweats
and was starting to attract attention from the neighbours.
"Just a sec. I'm going to grab my mail." He went to the
end of his driveway and took his mail out. "What the...?"
"What?" I walked across the lawn to him. He was holding
a box like mine.
"What the hell is this?" He held up the box and shook it.
"I got one, too. That's what I
came over here about."
"Did you open it?"
"No. I was waiting for you."
"Oh. Well, let's go inside and
open them, I guess."
We headed back to my house. I led Mickey into the kitchen and he sat down at the table. I grabbed
the phone from the wall and set it beside him. "This is... just in case." He nodded and looked closely at the box. Picking
it up again, he sniffed the edges and shook it.
After cracking open a couple of beers, I sat at the table. "Well,
what do you want to do?"
"I think we should open them." Mickey set his box back on the table and leaned back in his
chair. "On the count of three, okay?"
"Just a sec." I leaned over and took a couple of steak knives out of the drawer,
handing one to Mickey. "The tape's going to be impossible to get through."
"Okay." He held his knife like he was
ready to stab the box to death. "One... two... three." We stabbed our boxes and cut the tape from around the edges.
We
opened them at the same time and tipped them over. A pile of packing peanuts fell out with a piece of paper mixed in. I
pulled mine out:
'Congratulations! You are entrant #5 into the Pinegrove Scavenger Extravaganza...'
"Mickey?
What does your's say?"
"Um, 'Congratulations! You are entrant #4 into the Pinegrove Scavenger Extravaganza.' What
the hell is this?"
'... You and nine other contestants will be organized into teams of two to search for items on our
Scavenger Hunt list. You will have one week to retrieve all 20 items on the list. At 5pm on Friday, May 23, you and your
partner will be required to take your items to the Pinegrove Community Hall for inspection and the awarding of the Grand Prize:
A trip for two to Europe*. (*Trip to Europe not exactly as described)...'
"What the fuck is this?" Mickey looked over
his paper at me. "A Scavenger Hunt? Are we 12?"
"I don't know. It looks kind of fun..."
"Pft. Yeah, right."
"We
might end up on a team together... That'd be cool." I didn't know how to react to this. It was easily one of the most bizarre
pieces of mail I'd ever received.
"Yeah, sure." He picked up his paper and re-read it.
'...Watch your mail
tomorrow for further instruction. Play begins on Friday, May 16 at 5pm...'
"Oh, shit!" I stood up and frantically
tore the living room apart.
"What?" Mickey followed me in, drinking his beer.
"I've got a date tomorrow."
I picked up the cushions on the couch and threw them on the floor.
"So you're making a mess? Who's the date with?"
Mickey went over and picked a cushion back up so he could sit on the couch.
'Gladys's granddaughter. I think her name's
Bri or something." I went back to the kitchen, grabbed my beer and took a couple more out. "I just need to find..."
"What
do you need to find?" Mickey had found the remote and was flipping channels like a maniac.
"I don't remember. I just
need to find it." I flopped down on the couch and put my feet up on the coffee table.
"Hey, where's the painting Jayme
did for you? It wasn't in your room when I went up there this morning?"
"I, uh, gave it back to her." My blood was
still boiling over that whole incident. I don't know if I was mad at her or at myself for being such a fucking moron about
the issue. "I just decided I didn't want to live with a reminder of her anymore."
"Oh. When did you take it over
to her?" He stopped channel-hopping and looked at me.
"Last night." I took a sip of my beer to keep my eyes off of
him.
"Last night after we got home."
"Yep."
"That's it?"
"Yep."
"Okay... if you say so."
He went back to flipping channels.
"What the hell do you want me to tell you? That we got into a screaming match on
her front lawn and she kneed me? Is that what you want to know?" I jumped up off the couch and paced the room.
"You're...
in... my... way." Mickey found a sports channel and wanted to catch up on the scores. "What the hell is your problem?"
"I
don't know." More pacing.
"Well, figure it out before someone really beats the shit out of you - like me. Speaking
of which, your face looks a hell of a lot better."
"Yeah." I sat back down on the couch. "Wanna go out?"
"Not
really. But if you want to."
"Actually, I'd rather stay in tonight. Any good movies on?" I grabbed the remote from
his hand and checked the menu.
We ordered pizza and drank a few more beers while watching a horrible remake of an old
black and white movie Mickey remembered watching when he was a kid. When it was over, he stood up and stretched. "Well,
I guess I better get going. I'll see you in the morning." He turned and walked out the front door, headed over to his house.
Even
though I'd been up for less than 10 hours, I was dead tired. On rare occasions, I went through stages like this - a ravenous
need for sleep, and I'd usually get it, too. I headed up to bed and fell asleep within minutes.
I was woken by the
phone ringing a few hours later. "Mmm... hello?" The clock said 3:34am.
"Nic?" It was Jayme.
"What?" I rubbed
my eyes and rolled over to my side, bringing the blankets up to my chin.
"I need to talk to you."
"Can it wait?
I was sleeping."
"Just let me ask you a question, okay?"
"Sure." Sleep was just at the edge of my brain. I
wanted so desperately to reach out and bring it to me.
"Did you get a box today in the mail?"
"Yeah, why?"
"I
got one, too."
I sat up a little bit. "Mickey got one, too. What does your note say?"
"It's about the Scavenger
Hunt. You knew nothing about this before...?"
"Nope. I was a little afraid it was some drugs or a bomb or something."
"Oh.
Okay. I guess I'll let you get back to sleep then."
"Yeah. See you on Friday."
"Um, yeah, I guess we will.
Bye."
"Bye." We hung up and I laid back down. The sleep that was so close was gone again and I got out of bed. As
I passed by the window in the hallway, I noticed that Mickey's bedroom light was on. I went back to my room and dialed his
number.
"Hey. What are you doing up?"
"I couldn't sleep. You?"
"Well, I was sound asleep until Jayme
called."
"What?"
"Apparently, she got a box today, too. What the hell is going on?"
"I dunno. It's
damn strange, that's for sure."
"I'm going to head back to bed now. I've got that date at lunch today. Stop by here
in the morning, okay?"
"Yeah, sure. See you then." We hung up and I slipped back under the covers. I was asleep
before I knew it.
I woke up the next day on time. I rolled out of bed and checked my face in the mirror. The bruising
was still noticeable, but the swelling was definitely down. I jumped in the shower, strangely excited about my date at lunch.
I took extra care with my hair and, for the first time in a few days, shaved. I checked my teeth and headed downstairs to
fix breakfast.
The door opened and Mickey came in, dripping. "Hey."
"Hey. Is it raining?" I looked out a
window to see a torrential downpour.
"Yeah. Pretty bad, too." He shook himself like a dog and sat at the table.
I
poured him a cup of coffee and made myself some toast. "So, uh, are you going to do this thing?"
"Sure. Why not?
I mean, it's not going to be some wierd government-organized training thing to kill aliens, or anything, is it? Nah. It'll
be kind of fun."
I sat down and poured some cereal into a bowl. "You know, it's kind of wierd that you, me and Jayme
all got invited to do this thing."
"Yeah. I guess it is." He spread jam over a piece of toast and took a bite. "The
chances of the three of us being picked to do something like this is pretty impossible to calculate, you know. Especially
if there's only 10 of us doing it."
"I know. I wonder if we know someone who's organizing it. Maybe we're the guinea
pigs for next year."
Mickey shrugged. "Maybe. Well, I gotta go. I'll, uh, pop by later to see how lunch went."
He stood up and opened the back door, just as the wind caught it and blew a bunch of rain in. "Sorry!"
"Yeah. Just
get out of here." I closed the door behind him and headed upstairs to do some more work before I had to leave.
Around
11:30, I turned my computer off and went to my room to get dressed. I don't know what I was so nervous about - I'd gone out
on dates before, but this one seemed different. Maybe it was because it was finally over between Jayme and I. Somewhere
in the back of my mind, I was holding out hope for all that time that we'd get back together. And with everything that's
happened in the last few days, I know for sure we're not any closer now than we were four years ago.
I finished dressing
and drove to The Village. I walked in and Gladys came rushing over. "Oh, good, you're here." She hurried me to a semi-secluded
table near the back of the diner.
"Um, is she here?" I sat down and pulled out my cigarettes. Gladys reached behind
her and grabbed an ashtray from the counter.
"Not yet, honey. I'll let you know when she is, okay?" She turned and
went to get me a cup of coffee. I was totally lost in thought when a girl came up to the table.
"Hi." She sat down
across from me. She was dressed, from what I could tell, in second-hand clothing - a small t-shirt from a truck stop with
the slogan 'Eat at Jack's' and a cartoon cook, worn in jeans, a light denim jacket with rips in the elbows, and a pair of
old basketball shoes on her feet. She carried a ratty bag that may have one time been red, but was now a faded pink.
"Hi.
I'm guessing you're Brianne?" I held me hand out, over the table. She shook it with her tiny little hand.
"Yeah.
You can call me Bri." She took her hat - a hand-knit blue toque- off and smoothed down her hair.
"I'm Nic."
"Well,
according to my Gramma, you're 'Nicky, that sweet boy at the diner.' Seriously, that's how she talks about you." She took
her coat off and leaned forward on the table. "Are you hungry?"
"Um, yeah."
"I'll try to get Gramma over here."
She waved at Gladys and turned back to me. "She really likes you, you know. She thinks of you as one of her own."
"Really?
That's... um... nice." This girl was being entirely normal and I was acting like an idiot. I can barely form a sentence
around her - what the heck is wrong with me?
"Yeah. Hey, Gramma. I figured the guy sitting by himself in the back
with no food in front of him was Nic. Can we get something to eat?"
"Of course, Bri. What would you like?" Gladys
took out her pen and paper.
"Can I have chicken strips and a caesar salad?"
"Sure, dear. Nic?"
"Um,
I'll have my regular." Gladys nodded and went to put the order in to the kitchen. She returned with the coffee pot and poured
us each a cup.
"You two have a good lunch, okay?" She put her hand on Bri's shoulder and walked away.
"So,
Nic, what do you do for a living?"
"I'm an accountant."
"Oooo, sounds thrilling." I couldn't tell if she was
laughing at me or was serious.
"I work from home."
"Really? I'd love to do that."
"What do you do?"
I hated myself for being this way. Why couldn't I relax and enjoy myself - she seems like a nice enough girl. Why am I
all uptight and quiet?
"I'm a sales girl."
"Where?"
"Oh, at a store you've probably never been in...
Millicent's. It's the old lady store at the end of Fillmer Street."
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