Dustland Requiem (A Bard's Folktale)

  Chapter 15. The Value of a Miracle Is…

  “Most times I’m a perfectly rational person. Unfortunately, it’s the few times I’m not that everyone seems to remember.”

  – Cris’s Journal

  Ann Arbor, Michigan

  The pads of cantankerous cat’s paws landed on hard cement inside a large building. He knew little of the place except for the loud noises the hairy man and colorful woman continued to make. In his presence. On purpose. His handmaiden had odd friends.

  The august cat yawned, licking chunks of turkey from his teeth. Enjoying his leftovers for only a moment, a furry appendage attacked from above! He swiped at the dangling calamity, taunting him from all directions. He jumped after it, but it always remained out of reach. He slinked back, prowling and biding his time until just the right moment. He struck, nipping the furry appendage, and yowled out as teeth released their grip on his tail.

  His mysterious foe defeated and disappeared for the moment, the meow-meow continued to explore his new environment, perchance he might find a stronghold. He needed a good place to prepare his revenge against his feathered nemeses. Instead, however, he caught a familiar scent—sweet and bitter, like that of an old friend—and decided to investigate.

   

  “It’s funny. If you started playing with your fingers instead of your dick, maybe we wouldn’t sound like foreplay.”

  Cris listened to Jence criticize the Bards’ rehearsal as she sat in an unsteady chair in a practice space downtown. Specifically, Cris listened to Jence and Geroge go back and forth over his handling of his guitar.

  “Uh, Jeany? How do you play a guitar with a dick? If that was even kinda possible, I’d honestly give it a shot because damn, that’d be a hell of a show.”

  “It’s easy. Pull it out of my bag and use it like a bow. I can show you if you’d like.”

  Geroge stopped to consider the possibilities.

  “Mm, maybe later. Think I’m doin’ all right.”

  “You’re dry-humping that thing so hard the wood’s starting to warp.”

  Cris intervened, trying to keep the peace. “Hey! You guys finally started booking some small shows! Shouldn’t you be a little happy about it, and maybe focus on finding a full-time replacement drummer instead of bickering all the time?”

  “I’m done here. You want him, princess, you can have him.”

  Jence stared icily at Cris and began to disconnect her keyboard. She quickly and carefully separated and packaged all the cables, blowing her prismatic hair out of her face as she got everything together.

  “Jeany, hey, hold on. Don’t get your butt floss all twisted up. We’re all friends here,” Geroge said, trying to clear the air.

  Jence, only a bit taller than the equipment itself, grabbed her bag and her keyboard and stormed out. Geroge unslung his guitar and took a sip of water from his water bottle, some of it getting caught in his man-boy beard. Though he had put on some weight over the summer, Geroge was still mostly muscle.

  Looking at her reflection in the glass door, Cris could see she still hadn’t regained the weight she’d lost after Kody left. She pulled a bag of cherry Twizzlers out of her bag and began munching on them, waiting for Daron to arrive.

  “Huh. Cris, you’re a chick. What’dya figure Jeany’s deal is? Is she cracking under the pressure of impending stardom? Can’t handle all the fame? Or do ya think she misses her burly courtesan?”

  “G, you guys have booked a couple shows locally. I’m not trying to crush your bubble, but I don’t think the Bards are as famous as you think they are. And as far as Thteve… I don’t know. It’s hard having the people you care about far away. Even more so if they left abruptly without even telling you…” Cris shook her head, catching herself getting trapped in her pensive dreamland.

  “Could be, señorita. Could be.” Geroge nodded, drawing his fingers through his beard as he considered the possibility.

  “Uh huh. That reminds me—why do you keep speaking Spanish to me so much lately?”

  “Uhh… no reason.”

  Cris eyed Geroge suspiciously, and stood up to stretch her legs. She wandered around the practice space, looking it over while trying to find her furry little friend. The space itself was fairly large; as best she could tell it was an old warehouse renovated for some project that probably got cancelled. According to Geroge, the place wasn’t that expensive for an afternoon practice session. If they paid for it at all.

  “G, have you seen where Bixby went?”

  “Nope. Not a clue, milady. Not sure why you brought a cat to a rehearsal anyway.”

  “Because either someone watches him or he stays with me. I’m not taking my eyes off of him again. You remember what happened last time…” Cris trailed off.

  “Hey, got it.” Geroge stopped to think for a minute. “Doesn’t look like D’s gonna show. You wanna give it another shot?”

  Cris looked over to Geroge, who was still leaning on the wall near his guitar. She shook her head, to which he responded by picking his guitar up, slinging it, and waiting for Cris. He walked over to her and took her hand, leading her back toward the improvised stage with the microphone.

  “C’mon, chica, you were born for this and you know it. Don’t be shy.”

  “I just don’t like singing without—”

  “Don’t say the K-word. Music sweetheart, we’re focusing on the music.”

  “But—”

  “What do you do when your guy disappears chasing his ex across country? Do what the wise man said: Make good art. Now, from the top. You want Florence or Adele?” Geroge considered the options. “You ain’t gettin’ Adele. Except maybe ‘Rolling in the Deep.’”

  “No. “Shake it out,” please.”

  “Still think it sounds weird acoustic, but make it work.”

  Geroge started playing inspirational power chords, tuning them to Florence + the Machine’s “Shake it out,” adjusting it for a single acoustic guitar. Cris took to the microphone, doing her best to match the vocals of Florence Welch. She focused intently on her singing, trying to remember to maintain proper posture and form. Though she had no audience, something about being center stage seemed… off. She pushed it from her mind, recalling the last time she had sung and the joy it had brought. She tightened her grip on the microphone, belting out the chorus. She began dancing with the music, shaking her butt just a little as she finished.

  “Not bad, chica. Not exactly Ms. Welch herself, but not bad.” Geroge set his guitar down and applauded. Cris laughed to herself, giving Geroge a light shove.

  “Uh huh. But thanks. I think I needed that.”

  “Kinda figured. Up for finding that cat of yours who likes to disappear all the damn time?”

  “Crap! You’re right! Bixby?”

  Cris put the microphone back and began running around the practice space, trying to find the regal feline. She checked around the Bards’ equipment, the bathroom, and even the maintenance closet. The cat was nowhere to be found.

  “G, what am I gonna do? I think he’s gone!”

  “Wouldn’t worry too much. That fur ball always shows up eventually.”

  “That he d-does. In his own t-time, in any c-case.” Glenn closed the door behind himself, clean-shaven and holding the inconsiderate kitty in his arms. The cat nuzzled him, and he returned the gesture in kind. “I m-missed you t-too, Allister.”

  “Oh my God!”

  Cris stared at Glenn, through him, seeing the resurrection of her greatest horror manifest. Her head spun, muddled, unable to form words or remind her to breathe. She flashed back to her dreams, seeing him illuminated in sizzling lighting, drowning in freezing oceans, falling off a cliff. She flashed back to the motel room, hands covered in dried blood, smelling nothing but orange juice. She had cried for him so many nights, wishing and praying for anything to get him back. And here he was, awakening her from the nightmare. Her lip bled as she realized she was biting it. She wiped the blood away with her trembling hand.

>   “Uh…I think that’s Cris for ‘I’m happy to see you.’ Welcome back to the land of the living, man,” Geroge shook his hand.

  Glenn nodded, returning the gesture. He walked up to Cris, set the cat down, and embraced her. “I-it’s all right, C-charisma.”

  “I don’t even—” Cris finally remembered to breathe.

  “You d-don’t need to say anything. You saved my life. The least I can do is r-return the favor.”

  “What?” She looked up into his eyes.

  “K-kody’s missing, right? We’re going to find him.”

  Cris and Glenn sat, discussing everything that had happened after she had abandoned him and how she had been managing to get by the last few months with help from Emma and Geroge. As they talked, seeing Glenn reminded Cris of what her life had been like before her summer had fallen apart; it reminded her of what she had been. She buried herself in his chest, ignoring the escaping stream of tears. Even as the humble not-so-kitten prince clawed at her ankle to beg for his regal treat, Cris felt no pain while embracing Glenn.

  He lifted her chin, looking into her blurry tear-filled eyes, and for the first time in quite a long time, smiled. Cris finally started getting her sniffles under control, and realizing Geroge was still watching the two of them, tried to hide her blushing embarrassment as she sat up.

  “Whew, okay, so…embarrassment aside, what do we do? I tried to find Kody on my own, but all I ever got were dead ends.”

  “Before everything h-had happened, I was tracking Jake. I w-was to get the information on his wh-whereabouts in Laughlin, but I s-suspect that’s no longer an op-option. I suppose the first c-course of action is d-determining the best st-starting point on where to find K-kody. Any ideas?”

  Cris shook her head. Glenn reached into his pocket, pulled out a pill from his pill bottle, and swallowed it whole. Cris cocked an eyebrow, but Glenn’s reserved smile implied that whatever his new medication was, he wasn’t concerned. He continued.

  “I suppose we c-could go to N-nevada, and start th-there. I’m sure my father w-would be overjoyed to f-fund me getting out of the h-house.”

  “Actually…” Geroge opened his mouth. “I kinda know where the Kod-man is. He’s safe…sorta, down Mexico way.”

  Cris whipped her head toward Geroge, causing him to raise his palms defensively.

  “Woulda said somethin’ sooner, chaste Penelope, but he made me swear. Said he didn’t want you gettin’ hurt. I’m sorry. But if we’re gonna go find him anyway, may as well start in the right place.”

  Cris turned to Geroge, trying to restrain herself. Glenn winced as Cris’s nails dug into his leg.

  “You knew this whole time!” she said.

  “Chica, look—”

  “Don’t. You should probably leave now.” Cris relaxed her grip on Glenn’s leg, breathing slowly.

  “I guess that’s fair, but anyone else know where he’s at? He’s like a brother to me, in case you forgot. I ain’t leavin’ him hangin’, and you ain’t leavin’ without me.”

  Glenn intervened, consoling Cris as the all-too-eager feline continued to brush himself against Glenn’s leg. Glenn nodded to Geroge.

  “We all want to find K-Kody, so I suggest th-that remain our f-focus.”

  “I can work with that. I don’t have a good number for him or anything, but I’ll see what I can shake out. Catch up with you guys in a bit.”

  Geroge shook Glenn’s hand, gathered up his gear, and headed out. Glenn picked up the cantankerous cat, carrying the feline with him as he examined the practice space. Cris stood staring at the ceiling, taking slow, deep breaths as she tried to compose herself. The day held more surprises than she ever could’ve guessed. Looking at her situation, she now had a starting point, and a plan. If there was a time to take action, this was it.

  She clutched the beads around her neck, watching Glenn as he walked around the practice space. For the first time in quite a while, nostalgia brought back happy memories. For the first time in a long time, she could breathe without the heavy weight of guilt. For the first time in a long time, she was ready to take action.