Chapter Forty-three: Nil, nul, nothingness
It was hard to tell where sleep began and a blackout ended. I heard people knocking on my door all day but I ignored them. Blankets covered me like butcher paper. It was three in the afternoon and I couldn’t sleep anymore and needed a shower. There might have been more information divulged and I wanted to see how George was handling it.
Dawn stood at my door as I returned towel around my waist. She looked older.
“Hello,” I said, held up my bottle of shampoo, turned and continued, “Hold on a minute.”
“All right,” she said.
The clothes vacuum sealed to my wet skin. While scratching my chin, I let her breach the threshold of shadows.
“People are worried about you,” she said and sat on the foot of my ruffled bed.
“Thank you for your concern. I am fine. Is there anything you need?” I asked.
“Elyssa and I are worried. I wanted to see if you were okay.”
“I am fine,” I said.
Dawn stared with a look that would paralyze a bull. Her cry trembled.
“You don’t feel anything, do you?” she asked.
“I am fine. I suggest you go back and chill. I have to see what is going. Thanks for your concern,” I said and waved her to the door.
“Go relax, bye,” I said as I helped her out.
I went to see George and music siphoned out of the walls. In a dither, I knocked but there was no answer. I punched the door. The door opened and classical music impacted my gut. George tilted his head as he looked at me and asked, “What do you want?”
“I was just seeing what you were doing?”
“Blasting Beethoven, come on in,” he said.
I nodded.
As I walked in, I saw James on couch smoking a cigarette. That was new. Calloused feet lifted as I sunk into a seam between the cushions.
I recognized the song as Beethoven’s Symphony No. 3 Eroica. James shrugged and ashed his smoke in a Mountain Dew can by his feet.
“I know, I know,” James said.
George motioned to his lips.
I threw him a smoke.
The next track that came on was Fur Elise; the only song I could play on the piano in full. George air-pianoed. My arms crossed. James closed his eyes. George looked to the ceiling and turned away to his window as I saw a glint of tears.
The music over, George ejected the disc. He spun to us, shook his head clear, “Classical is always cleansing.”
“Very moving,” James said.
“The parties have begun. So grub and venture out early?” George asked.
“Cool. Tonight is going to be weird,” I said.
“Just want to get today over with,” George said.
“I am going to put on other shoes,” I said.
“Hurry up,” George said.
In my room of shale light, I switched my shoes faster than a magician or runway model changing behind curtains.
The Kaf was compressed with zombie students but they came alive to come over and us and spew “Hello” or “How are you doing?”
Nausea bubbled.
The sickening display of false regard killed my appetite. I drank apple juice out of the side of my mouth. I did not want to upset the guys by yelling at the gawkers so I just shut up. They finished eating after second helpings and George took point and we followed to the The Three Girls House.
As we came up the front yard was over-planted with people. We didn’t worry about the parties getting busted. We had a one night get out of jail card. And the student body played it. Beer bongs were raised in the air along with people’s feet for keg stands. Girls puked on the sides of houses along with their boyfriends.
Fraternity Row ruptured energy.
My tooth no longer ached. Reality was oil paint on a glass canvas, smeared and shiny.
The colors blended to black.