Scarleton Series I : Before the Cult (17 page)

“Yes, yeah it’s
fine,” I nodded somewhat amused.

She nodded,
glanced at the ceiling and back. “Okay, Sandy, I just want you to
know that everything you say here is confidential. I am not gonna
go tell anyone about it not even my family or friends. The only
time I would, which is rare, is if you are a danger to yourself or
anybody. In that case I may speak to my supervisor or contact your
family. That is only if I am certain that that is the case.”

If only you
knew all the smoked-up things I have done already.

“You won’t be
judged here, this is a safe place to share and be comfortable.”

Man, this
voice. It’s… it’s… I don’t know.

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” I
nodded.

She shuffled
through the file. “Is this your first time here?”

Why would
anyone lie about that on the form? Maybe they would if they thought
saying they weren’t will get them help quickly. On the other hand
if I am here to find the “truth” and I say I have never been here I
would fail a seemingly innocent line of questions that is designed
to decide whether or not I deserve to be or I am part of the secret
society that has the “ truth”.

“Yes,” despite
my beliefs I answered.

“You have
ticked quite a lot of things here. What interests me the most is
the suicidal thoughts. Can you talk about that and what brings you
here specifically?”

I stared
outside at the world a bit (from up here and my imaginative eye) ,
tapping into the thin nature of reality, my emotions and my
thoughts. Then the undeniable sense I am floating captured me.

“Anything
specific you would like to share?” she repeated.

“Cheryl, it’s
the wrongness of it all. I feel it. It’s rotten cheese, I’m not the
mould but they are. This reality is a curtain, one we can’t see,
touch or smell. It’s lurking deceptively so. It’s not steel, it’s
more of a phantom. You can hear, in fact feel it, that there is
another level of reality. It’s like I am a fish wriggling in the
net, only this time I’m confusing it for home. It’s
suffocating.”

Nothing is ever
what it is, nothing is ever just. It is not what it is for its own
sake, or purely for being. It has a life and meaning that is never
linguistic, emotional or spiritual. There was a god among us raping
existence to the finish, it’s true manifestation. An enigma that
binds us so tightly. Knots and cuffs that free us.

Macfearson drew
his sword. “I’ll cut her into pieces if you let her ruin this for
us.”

Macxermillio
stopped in his tracks.

“There is
something different here I feel it. It’s not the same. If we keep
on listening to her we won’t see this through,” Macfearson spoke at
Macxermillio.

“But we are
here because she told us to come here. This woman you hate is the
reason we are here. Maybe she knew we would find something here.
Maybe she is with us. Isn’t that the reason we started this all
along?” Macxermillio responded, his palm on Macfearson’s shoulder
now.

“You came here
with a different purpose. On her terms. I made you see what you
couldn’t have seen. I opened your eyes to the prize! I took you off
the sort of rubbish she has been feeding you. Can’t you see what
she is doing to you too? It’s like you are brainwashed or some
shit.” Macfearson flicked Macxermillio’s arm off and moved
back.

“Fears-”

“Shut up!”
Macfearson pointed the tip at his throat. “You see that tone you
are using with me? Don’t do that, okay? I know what I am doing.
This is for your own good. Don’t talk to her. Make her leave. Just
make her go. You hear that, Sandy?”

I nodded, quite
unsure. Flew a glance at Macxermillio who turned out useless, this
did not suit him at all. He was still muddled with shock and
confusion, so was I.

Cheryl still
waiting on me spoke again, “If you can’t go through with this or it
is too much for you, you don’t have to do it.”

“Hey! She
fuckin’ leaves. We can have her say no more than two lines or I
kill this bitch!” Macfearson grunted a whisper.

What do you
think will happen?
I thought.

I considered.
“I am okay.” I told her. “It’s just something else. Me and this
girl I just met are having quite a good time I must say, Cheryl.
This wasn’t a bad idea at all. Kim is awesome. Thank you.”

I faked a smile
and wiped my tears.

She nodded, and
looked as if to go, not quite certain what to make of this. “Okay,”
did not sound convinced. She pointed as if to say she will be
around and I can reach her if I needed anything. “Kim?”

“Yes. It’s
working.”

“Okay.” she
sighed, looked around and left.

“Sorry I took
long,” it was more than a courtesy. Kim sat herself and took a sip
from her drink. She leaned forward, cocking her head back. Her
luscious neck exposed.

How delicate
and beautiful.

I sat shut,
gazing at her collar bone. Her skin looking like it’s bathed in
oil, so tender and moist but not messy. She got messy with patrons
but she was not a mess. She made mess but she was not messy. No,
not at all. I began to drool over what it would be like to press my
thumb right there and dig into the base of her neck. She swirled
like something delicate and weightless in the wind … a curtain. She
was an impression of an exaggerated slow motion sexy shot from one
of those
lifelings’
music videos. Her name is Kim and she
made me bleed ashes, not my kryptonite, but my something?

“You know,” She
flashed a smile, the kind you only gave to a friend , “ I had a
revelation.”

“While in
there?”

“Yeah.”

“Isn’t it dirty
and loud in there all the time? How on earth did you get the chance
to even have one?”

“Besides all
the mess.” she giggled, she clasped her hands together, eager to
tell.

“You know what
my favourite room is in a house ?”

She shook. “No.
What?”

“The toilet,” I
laughed.

“Why ?”

“For that
moment you are alone and in your little world. No distractions and
pure privacy. You let go and you just become. You have all the
monologues and can actually come up with some good ideas. For a
moment you don’t feel like you are here in this world. Like
everything else.” I paused. “But there is fear , you know.”

She nodded.
“What fear?”

I paused for a
moment. “Getting out there.”

The image of my
home toilet door appeared to me.

She looked
puzzled. “Why ?”

“It’s a
sanctuary of a sort I guess.”

She leaned back
and glanced at her drink which was now full. “Should I be
scared?”

“Well that
depends,” Macfearson grunted, “On some little thing we call
the
calling
.”

“Our compass to
other worlds,” I whispered.

“What? I didn’t
get that ?” Kim replied.

“What was your
revelation?”

“Um, you know
how people are right?”

Oh fuck
yeah…

“Living like
there is tomorrow. Making most of our present and shit. We party,
fuck, fight and fall in love senselessly. Basically we are like
animals.”

“Yeah.”

“Have you tuned
into the radio recently?”

“Yeah, long
time ago.”

“Why?”

“Because I
think it’s shit. The music sucks.”

“Right!” She
nodded enthusiastically. “The music is just about sex, booze and
partying your life away, like that’s all that matters. This
generation is the party-yourself-senseless generation because there
is no meaning to anything. Because of how we have chosen to live,
our lives have no substance to them anymore. You know why?”

“Why ?”

“How many times
have you been told the world will end? That is the answer. We think
this is the end. Or perhaps it is near. You will never know when it
could, it could be any time. So why make a piece of music, art or
literature that will be epic, monumental and classic? Why do
anything that has prolonged meaning anyway? Something to surpass
the times. It won’t last, it will be over today or tomorrow. Why
stay in this marriage? Why go to church? Why love? Why go to
school? Why raise a family? Why hope? Why dream?”

“So everything
is justified?”

“Everything
goes.”

“Is that what
you believe? “

“It’s what I am
subjected to.”

I glanced at my
henchmen. Their attention drawn away as if the sword incident never
happened. I could only imagine what thoughts were going through
their heads. Macfearson the most.

What is she?
Is she a lifeling? I think she feels the state of decay her world
is in like us, but yet she blends in with this world regardless.
How could she see what we see and lives like she lives? It does not
make sense at all. She is with me in this bubble and at the same
she dwells in the same shroud that separates us. I feel something
when I am here with her, cosmic transcendence and twirled with
belonging. She can’t fake this. I think I know what’s to be done if
she is a
deathling
, she will help us … it seems like she
knows something I don’t. If she is a
lifeling
, isn’t she a
perfect sample? But what is this other almost mind-altering emotion
I feel, she is radiating to me? . What is this “thing”?

It was not
surprising to see Macxermillio and Macfearson become uneasy.

Is she the
key?

“What? What do
you think would be the solution?” I inquired.

“Getting rid of
the end.” Kim replied, a grin on her face.

“Why?”

“A finished
painting imposes meaning. It’s meaning can be relished in seconds
and forgotten. Once a main character of a story has reached his
goal, killed the big villain, saved the city or married the girl he
wanted his story is no longer interesting anymore. We could
interpret differently, talk about it differently but it matters no
more because it has ended.”

“I see.” I
nodded.

“If the world
needs a solution it will come from those things that never end. Not
things that last forever but unfinished things. A story that is
unfinished. Now that’s more interesting. It allows for wonder,
imagination and curiosity. People are left with questions that it
does not answer for them. Now they have purpose and create meaning
from that which is unresolved. That is better than any great piece
of art because it’s a mystery. Mystery is the best gift you could
give to this generation, something that haunts them and compels
them. It’s things that never end that give utmost meaning to life.
Maybe Christianity is one such story. What the fuck happened to
Christ?”

I sat silent,
taking it all in.

“I’m not saying
there isn’t real art in the world. There is, but it hasn’t reached
its potential yet. If it’s meaning and purpose we need as the lost
generation it will come from that.”

“I see.”

She took swig
of her drink and sat back. “You wanted to know the story of my
life.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I will
tell you the version that never ends. Maybe that will answer your
questions.”

The raindrops
pelted the window like miniature mountains. Rivers went down the
pane, rivers from a deluge. By then the bar would be filling up,
nothing held the Scarletons from partying but today was unique.

Macfearson
awoke from his brooding. “I think I know what is happening here or
why it is happening. I see it now.” He had scuttled Macxermillio to
a booth by one of the windows. After minutes of staring into empty
air these were his first words followed by an eerie pause of the
same magnitude.

Macxermillio
waited impatiently, eager to finally get rid of his own
speculations. He leaned forward from across the table and nodded on
encouraging Macfearson can carry on.

Macfearson
looked about the bar and fixed his surgical gaze on Kim and I. “I
think this situation is orchestrated. Not that it is staged in any
way but that something is manipulating this situation for a
purpose.” He sighed. Macxermillio’s reserved nature was greatly
appreciated by the break, allowing Macfearson to draw his thoughts
together and weave them into a more credible web that did not only
make sense to him but to his henchmen as well. The process was a
delicate one, like any underdeveloped idea. He could lose it at a
moment’s distraction like a very good idea extinguished at its
infancy by short term memory loss. That was a frown of man who was
working hard to make sure that does not happen. He did not wince in
pain, he did so to contain himself. The worst distraction then
would have been one that comes from his own impulsive mind.

“The calling is
always telling us to commit suicide, when we refuse we become so
frustrated we sample people out of fear of the unknown .” Fear was
never the word we used. We just wanted to be certain about what we
getting ourselves into. The calling gave us clues and tips we just
needed to verify our suspicions. “The calling never tells us
anything when we ask, except maybe ask that we trust it or just do
as it wishes. I believe that the calling has wanted to communicate
with us, but not by words. What are words and explanations anyway,
the calling is trying to reach out to us in more powerful ways that
gives us an experience and inject it into our conscious experience
immediately. Do you get it?”

Macxermillio
felt the venom. “Are you saying that – wait, how did you come to
this conclusion ?”

“We always
doubted the calling to an extent, haven’t we?”

“Yeah?”

“As soon as we
went to the therapist the urges became stronger. I believe that was
sign. I can’t tell you what but I believe it was for somethng. When
we were about to come here the crop revealed itself to us in a
vision or something. We were there and it was real as you are in
front of me here. I believe the calling did that. And I believe
that right here in this place with Kim the calling is trying to
tell us something we have missed all along. Macx, there is an
answer here, in this conversation with her and I feel like we are
missing it. We may never get it back if we miss it.” Macfearson
took in a deep breath. “The calling may be using her to communicate
with us and guide us to the crop. You felt something didn’t
you?”