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“Really good.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
“Hi everyone. This is, uh, Klahanie ‘The Cryptid’ Bishop. I guess rumors of my demise have been grossly exaggerated. Sorry, not sure why, but I’ve always wanted to say that. Anyway, I’m doing okay. I’ve decided to hijack Noah’s radio station … with a lot of help—thank you Dean and Dani—because he needs to know some things. It wouldn’t occur to him to tune into his own station, for obvious reasons, so I’d appreciate if everyone calls him, texts him, sends carrier pigeons, smoke signals, or whatever. Just tell him to tune in, because I’m not the only one who should be embarrassed here.
Speaking of that, because I’m talking into a microphone with a view of the ocean in front of me, it’s difficult to imagine I have an audience. Cognitively, I know, well, at least I think, folks are listening, but I don’t knowknow, which might be a good thing, depending on where my babbling goes. I’m not of the mind to self-edit right now, so please don’t judge too harshly.
I’m sure most people know my history. It’s a small island, so gossip is a thing. If you don’t know, well, I’m an original islander, but my parents, my brother, and I moved to Seattle when I was a toddler. Jeremy and I came back here a few years later when our parents were killed in a car accident. To be honest, I don’t remember much about that time, which I guess is good. I do remember my Gram taking me to register for 1stgrade here, though. After she left, I felt so alone. Jeremy’s five years older than I am, so I didn’t even have him to lean on. I wanted to just curl up like a roly poly bug. I think that’s what I was trying to do on the playground that first day. A little boy sat next to me in the dirt and handed me a dandelion. He told me to blow on it, and together we watched all those seeds float around and catch on the breeze.”
I decided to play Rufus Wainwright’s version of “Across the Universe.”
****
“Hi all. It’s me, uh, Klahanie, again. I’m sure there’s a lot better stuff to listen to, so feel free to tune out, but not before you reach out to Noah.If you don’t tune out, just know that I’m feeling a little maudlin, so proceed to listen at your own risk.
For, uh, quite a while after I lost my folks, I’d get routinely pulled out of class by the school counselor, Mr. Atkin. Anyone remember him? I don’t think he was on the island very long. He used to wear fedoras, like he expected he’d teleport into an old black and white movie, or something. He made an attempt to help me first. I mean, this was before my Gram decided to take me to a real therapist. Anyway, he’d check in with me every week for a while there, and try to push me to talk to him. He’d want me to tell him everything I remembered about my parents’ deaths. I never did, though. He’d ask, and ask again, but I never responded. Even as young as I was, I resented him and his pushiness. And I think he might have learned a valuable lesson in child psychology, or at the very least, frustration. I don’t think I was the easiest of kids to deal with. Too bad for him.
After one of our last meetings, if not the last, I chose not to go back to class. I went out on the playground and hid under the slide at the far end. I’m pretty sure I felt like I was going to explode and leave sad little bits of myself everywhere. And as soon as the bell for recess rung, you knew where to find me, Noah. You just plopped down next to me, like that first time, ignored the fact that I was a snotty red-faced mess, and offered me some Goldfish crackers.”
I ended the silly little memory with “More than Words Can Say” from Alias.
****
“Hey, all. Just a reminder to please blow-up Noah’s phone. Not literally, just bug the hell out of him for me. He’s having a rough time, but we need to weather our rough time together. He can light his campfires, sleep in the dirt, pee behind trees and howl at the moon later. Maybe I’ll even do it with him. Once I’m through this, I might even be up for it.
Noah, if you’re listening, well, you’d better be listening by now, you need to know that I might be pulling out some stops. You have a lot of dirt on me, sure, but I have a lot on you, too, buddy. And I’m the one with the power right now. Ha!
The summer before we started our sophomore year, we had quite the experience at the North beach. Ahem, do you remember? You’d just turned fifteen, and we decided to go take a dip, just the two of us. We brought a little picnic lunch, with a couple of wine coolers you lifted from your mom. Tsk, tsk. Anyway, we were splashing around, swimming a little, but mostly just playing. You tried to climb that one chunk of driftwood, but couldn’t quite do it, but you did manage to snag your trunks. You turned bright pink, and when you came out of the water, you walked sideways like a damned crab. But guess what, babe? I saw half your ass before you grabbed your towel. And it was cute.”
I closed with “Wild Horses” from The Rolling Stones, and “I’ll Stand by You” by The Pretenders.
****
“Hey, all. I think we should have another embarrassing incident story for Noah and I, well, mostly Noah, because I have the power, and I’m going to take advantage of it. Of course, it’s a coming-of-age kind of thing, but considering we were only teens when we both left the island, I think it’s all I can offer.
Anyone remember their first kiss? Probably everyone, unless you were an unfortunate soul who just practiced on their arm until and beyond college.
But they’re amazingly horrible, aren’t they? I think they’re especially horrible when the couple in question gets thrown into it without warning. I’m pretty sure most of our old friends remember the summer celebration party at Mike’s place? His parents had gone to Bermuda … well, you see where this is going. Sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Templeton, but teenagers are not to be trusted, no matter what their GPA is. It’s a lesson best served … well, years later when you can’t do anything about it. Anyway, during a hot and heavy session of “Would you Rather,” Noah and I were locked in the downstairs coat closet. I think the question was something like ‘Would you rather make out with your best friend or walk around the house arm-farting for ten minutes?’ It wasn’t a hard choice, just a really awkward one. Everyone was kind enough to give us some privacy, but wanted to make sure Noah would be wearing my horrible shade of pink lipstick when we emerged. The first kiss is like kissing a sopping wet Hoover, right? Not exactly romantic. But, I can now say with great confidence, he’s gottenmuchbetter.”
I followed with “You’re Still the One,” from Shania Twain and “Leather and Lace” from Stevie Nicks and Don Henley.
****
“Afternoon, everyone. I’m back to annoy you again, but you all know why. If not, feel free to ask a neighbor. They’ll know. Because of my recent … experience … I’ve been thinking about death a lot. No big surprise there. I mean, it was a pretty crappy day for me, so I think I’m entitled. Noah, do you remember the whole incident with Prague the dog? It sounds kind of funny like that—make a rhyme anytime kinda thing—but it wasn’t. Not at all.
I know it felt like everything was in slow motion that day. We both saw the dog run into the street, we both saw the truck, and we both knew it was too late. But you grabbed my arm to pull me around so I wouldn’t witness it. You tried to protect me. I remember thinking how odd that was. Here you were, a kid around ten having never been touched by death at that point, trying to protect someone who’d been crushed by it. It was a little irritating, but sweet at the same time. Weird mix, I know. Fast forward almost twenty years, and now we’ve both been marked by loss. I think we knew we were shelter for one another’s storms. That shouldn’t ever change, Noah.”
“I Will Follow You Into the Dark” from Death Cab for Cutie seemed to work for the moment, so I went with it. A second later, I hoped no one read too much into the choice, but figured it was too late now.
****
“While I’m blabbing about stuff, I figure some of you might want to know what happened after Noah and I graduated. We were peas in a pod, like peas and carrots, the cheese to our respective macaroni, or any number of dopey sounding metaphors. And then we weren’t. It seemed pretty sudden, huh? We each pursued a different course in life, and didn’t connect again until I came back to the island almost three months ago. A whole decade, if you can believe it. What happened when we were kids was stupid and infantile, and I’m not going to tell you. Sorry, not sorry, for the bait and switch. But I think it was necessary for us to grow independently, and then find our way back to one another. And now, here we are at an impasse again. I love you, Noah, but shit happens. We can either pull together or pull apart.”
I’d postponed my medication to keep a clear head, but now wrapped in growing anger, fatigue, and a lot of pain, I chose to play “Here’s to Us” from Halestorm.
Everything I said captured tiny snippets in our lives, and I could go on indefinitely with story after story, likely to the boredom of everyone on the island, but, at the moment, I wasdone.
Chapter Forty-Eight
