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splinterswerve
Calgary, Alberta, Canada
splinterswerve.hotmail.com

by Christopher Lawrence

When Carrie went to the grocery store she took a pound of ground beef out of the meat cooler and threw it across the grocery store floor. When the package tore open the bloody porridge spewed across the tiles. The store’s meat clerk ran over and started getting worked up. I couldn’t listen. Carrie’s once a month protest came early. No matter how much I talked to her, I couldn’t get her to think in a rational way. ‘In your face advertising’ she called it. ‘It’s the most effective way to get the message across’.

I just stood there staring at the mess on the floor until I could make out Gandhi’s face in the pattern, then a tea cup, and finally a hot air balloon being shot down by a bunch of Russian soldiers. I knew they were Russian of course because of the way they were dancing. Carrie, the lesbo-vegan with a few bolts missing, turned to the meat packer and laid into him. She said it was for ‘healthy living.’

I wanted to ask her what the hell she was doing but I didn’t, I just stood there and stared at the ground. I was deliberately muting out the argument that was taking place behind me between her and the clerk. There was too much yelling already. It went silent. Gandhi gone, the crimson was starting to form a river on the uneven square tiles of the grocery store floor. The river was following the seams. A bird’s eye view suggested blood irrigation for a carpet of farms.

I started to think about my dream from the other night. I was traveling with a group of people and we were quietly moving and hiding from another group of people that were infected with something. You could sense their sickness; you could smell it and feel it. It was too real. They caught me! I was held stationary by one of them with a knife. I was too afraid to move and the rest of my group was nowhere to be found. The sick person, it must have been a girl, I’m sure of that, started moving in with her weapon. I fell backwards and she crouched down to my level. I started to creep carefully away watching the knife move closer to my body. The point of the knife touched my neck and I could feel the steel slowly entering my flesh. It burned as it sliced my skin to my shoulder. There was nothing I could do. I only remember the pain and the blood. I could see more of them coming forward, they could smell my blood, they wanted it, and they wanted my life. As they moved closer I blacked out, I remember the pain. I heard screaming, loud terrifying screaming. In my dream I opened my eyes. I was no longer alive. I saw my mother in the afterlife. Everything was tainted yellow, like misty pictures from the 70s. My mom was just lying there, posed on the grass with one arm holding up her head. She was unmoving, wearing bell bottom pants and a striped knitted tube top. I woke up from the dream.

I woke up from the day dream. My throat felt gravelly and hoarse. I felt like I had a fever coming on. I turned around to see the meat clerk and a tall older slender fellow with Cranston written on his name tag with the word Manager written under it. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small wad of bills. I peeled back a fiver and handed it to Cranston.

“Sorry for the trouble,” I grabbed Carrie by the arm in mid-argument and walked out of the store. She didn’t say anything and I didn’t look back.

It was pouring outside and the cool moist crystals made my body shiver. We were heading back to my apartment, with no groceries and no conversation. I had no thoughts, just feelings. There was a low quiet rumble of thunder in my stomach. I was going to be sick. I ran to the closest alleyway and purged. It was red. Tomato sauce from the night before. Wiping my face we kept going, with only a block left I started to plan out the next ten minutes.

Walk in, put my pajamas on, grab a blanket, and fall asleep on the couch. Walk in, put my pajamas on, grab a blanket, and fall asleep on the couch. Walk in, put my pajamas on, grab a blanket, and fall asleep on the couch. By the time the key struck the inside of the main door I knew my plan and was going to follow through with it. Carrie said nothing, which was good. She knew I would lay into her if she opened her mouth. She tried stupid shit like this all the time. She always tried my patience. She always dug the knife in a bit deeper each time.

I stepped onto the dirt stained red carpet of my flat’s lobby and slowly dragged myself upstairs, Carrie closely behind. Four floors and no elevator.

“I fixed the drip, Mister Charm.” It was my landlord, Garvey, an old African gospel singer. I stopped and glanced at him, his face was thick with life, full wrinkles like dark old leather. I noticed the cut above his eyebrow, “Hit my head on that sink of yours, but she’s good now, I fixed her up. Say you don’t look so good, you better go lay down for a bit.”

“Thank you for the sink, I’m on my way up now.” He gave a dismissive wave and I walked the rest of the way up the stairs. My key hit the suite door to unlock it. I walked straight to my bedroom to change. I unzipped my jacket and hung it up to dry. I heard the electronic charge of the TV turning on. The sounds were clear; Carrie was putting on a tape, no DVD player yet.

“I don’t want to watch anything too heavy right now Carrie, I want to nap.” I called out from the bedroom. I never wanted to watch anything heavy. I pulled my shirt over my head and held my arms together over my stomach for just a second. I was tired; I didn’t want to do anything. I wanted to be asleep and I wanted to feel better. I unbuttoned my jeans and let them fall to the floor. As I stepped out of them I reached over to grab my grey sweat pants. Carrie was rewinding the tape and I could hear her in the kitchen. I put my pants on and heard the microwave door click as it closed. I walked out of my bedroom with my blanket and a plain white t-shirt in hand. The microwave was buzzing. My shirt came over my head and I sat down. I pulled the blanket over my body using half the couch and waiting. I could smell popcorn.

In a couple of minutes Carrie came back with a big red plastic bowl full of fake buttery popcorn. She hit play on the remote control and Clive Barker’s 1987 Hellraiser started to play. Something not too heavy I said, this is what I get. I could feel my stomach burning. I wasn’t going to be sick but I was annoyed at her fucking stupidity. “I said I wanted something light.”

“You’re going to nap anyway, what does it matter? Besides, I really like Pinhead.” She shoved a full handful of popcorn in her mouth. As if she wasn’t fat enough. I rolled my eyes and put my head on the arm of the couch. I just kept thinking that’s right you fat bitch, eat the fucking popcorn and die of a fucking heart attack. Breathe. Breathe.

The movie started and I stared unblinkingly through the TV seeing red. Why does she never listen to me? Is she going to offer me any of that popcorn? I fucking paid for it. Why am I so angry? I imagined walking over to my front hall closet and grabbing my tool kit from off the closet floor. Calmly walking into the kitchen and placing it on the counter. Lifting the clasp and peeling the lid back. What tool? Ah, that will do the trick. Weighing the hammer in my hand and grabbing a few nails and some rope. Walking into the living room I would tie her hands and her legs “What are you doing?” she would say. Just horsing around, Carrie. I imagined taking the two cinderblocks on my balcony that we used for sitting and pinning her head between them so that she couldn’t move it. I’d grab the nails and my hammer. Then tap tap tap. Yeah, Pinhead…

I found the remote and stopped the tape. I moved towards the TV and pushed the eject button as if it had slandered me moments before.

What’s wrong with me?

“What are you doing?” She said with her fat face full of popcorn.

Nothing, I just hate fat people making decisions in my house, eating my food, being in my space. “I just can’t watch that right now Carrie, I’m not feeling well.” She rolled her eyes. “If you don’t like it get the fuck out.” I snapped. She didn’t. Instead she threw back the maroon curtains and walked outside to light a joint. Healthy living indeed.

I put on Legally Blond with Reese Witherspoon. Something light. I went back to the couch and instantly started to fall asleep. I was ok, I had what I needed. My nerves calmed, I fell into a feverish dream.

I opened my eyes and everything was a hazy purplish red colour. “Carrie, toss back the curtains, will you? It’s too dark in here.” No answer. The movie wasn’t playing anymore. How long have I been asleep for? Carrie must have gone home. I didn’t feel sick anymore but I still felt hot with frustration. I walked to my window and opened the curtains. Everything was on fire as the sun was setting. Everything looked fuzzy with anger. The building across the street was firm and unyielding to the landscape. Looking down I could see an argument occurring between two street people carrying bottles. I walked away. Such a waste. I rubbed my eyes to clear the sleep.

I picked up the phone to call Carrie. Dead air. I hit the receiver a few times. Nothing. Stupid phone company. Every month it was the same thing from the same annoying nasally voice ‘Sorry Mister Charm, we had to shut your phone off for standard maintenance. It’s in your contract…’ I felt dizzy again. The red in the room was deepening and I could feel myself starting to black-out.

I woke up. How long was I out for? Carrie was uselessly standing over me staring. Red. The sun is still setting. It must have only been a few minutes. My eyes started to focus in on Carrie. Wait, no, that isn’t Carrie. James. James, my old manager from the movie store. What is he doing here? Bastard fired me. I started to stand up to see what he was doing here only to come face to face with my father. Dad? I sensed someone over my shoulder and saw my mom sitting on the couch. Why isn’t anyone saying anything?

“What are you doing here?” I finally said after a beat. “psha psha phsashsa” was all I got. “Why are you whispering?” Jesus, fucking games. I couldn’t make them out. I walked over to the living room light switch and flicked it on. Fzzz, “Uggghhh.” The light burnt out. I walked into the kitchen and hit that light switch there. Nothing happened. What the hell is going on here? I started to get a bit nervous. I rubbed my eyes and walked to the suite’s door. I opened it to see if the electricity was on in the building, everything in the hallway was red. Something’s not right. Breathe. I’m scared. Breathe.

I heard something down the long hallway. I started to walk towards the sound. I got to the end of the hallway before I realized that it was coming from a different floor. I opened the door. Singing. I walked down the steps and was able to make out the words of the song “He’s a dangerous man….” I could make out a blue hazy shadow vacuuming the floor, it was Garvey. There was no vacuum sound. “Looord, Looord.” I walked up to him and stood there until he saw me.

“Good lucid dreamin’ to ya, Mister Charm.” He tipped his hat and went back to his silent vacuum. I started to walk away. Lucid? Lucid. Lucid! I’m dreaming, I’m still dreaming. I turned around to say something to dream Garvey but he was already gone. I had only heard about lucid dreaming once but I had heard that you could control your dreams and sometimes you could fly. I turned around to run outside to try to fly but as I did this I saw a shiny blue circle on the floor where Garvey had been standing. I picked it up and held it in the palm of my hand.

It was warm; I could feel it’s warmth on my hand. I pulled it closer to my eye so that I could see what was on it. It was a picture of the Queen’s face and she was winking. She had a text halo around her head. I pulled it closer still to read what it said. The coin grew to be a full inch larger than it was. The halo read: Life is to practice as practice is to performance. Practice joy and you will become your performance.

I could still feel the warmth of the coin on my hand. I closed my eyes and let the heat crawl up my wrist to my elbow and from my elbow to my shoulder and from my shoulder to my neck, head, and chest. The warmth was so forgiving. It took over my body as I stood there.

I opened my eyes and the dream was gone. Carrie was gone. I stood up and walked straight to the mirror. I looked at myself for the first time. I was haggard and destroyed looking. I felt great! My fever was gone. I felt sticky and cold from sweating it out but when I brought my awareness back into my body, I felt warm and cozy. I walked to the kitchen to get some water. The life of the world, it was crystal clear. After taking a long savory sip I clinked the glass on the counter. I looked down and could see the words “fuck you” scratched into a piece of paper. It was from Carrie. The words were magnified by my glass. I thought about them. They had no meaning. No power.

I took the note to my table and grabbed my scissors and tape and the same pen that Carrie used to write the note. I started to cut each letter out individually. Using my pen I added a long tail at the bottom of the ‘f’ to turn it into a fancy looking ‘L.’ I closed the top of the ‘u’ to make an ‘o.’ I sliced the ‘c’ just enough down the center and then overlapped it with itself to make a funny looking ‘v.’ I scratched over the tails on the ‘k’ to make an ‘e.’ I laughed out loud as I pulled my shirt off. I taped the letters onto my chest followed by the word ‘you.’ L-o-v-e you. I walked over to the mirror and stood their smiling. I took a mental picture and rubbed the letters off my chest and onto the floor.

I hopped into the tub and turned on the warm shower water. How long had it been? Three days. The water was soothing to my body which still ached a bit. I imagined it flowing from my head, down to my chest, torso, and legs. I watched it cascade off my feet. I imagined that everywhere it touched it had a healing quality. I could see it entering the pores of my skin, entering into my muscles and my bloodstream making everything light and full and fresh.

It felt like the first time I had ever truly showered in my life. I felt different. I felt alive. I felt like my eyes were open.

…

I never dreamt like that again but, I never stopped dreaming.

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