White 05 (Dead Of Winter)

The night hadn't ended well for either of them. There was a screaming match, which was not atypical lately. Tim couldn't remember what had started it, what insignificant spark had ignited the blaze, but it hardly mattered. Something would've triggered it. A stray comment, a misinterpreted look, a perceived tone... any of these things were dangerous around their dry kindling romance now. And whatever it was, it had raged out of control yet again. There was a terrible escalation every time, and this one had burned so badly that he actually felt wounded. He wasn't positive what she was feeling, but if the past was any indication, it was a rage that would die out in a few hours and fade away without a hint of remorse. In the meantime, he was kicked out of her house right about eleven. His hands were trembling. He had a sick feeling in his belly that he was getting far too accustomed to. As he stood on her porch, flooded by light from the open doorway, she launched one last barrage of insults and accusations and slammed the door in his face. He didn't protest. He didn't blink for a few long moments of odd thoughtless abandon. It started to snow.
The trip from the porch to the driveway felt long that night. Each foot step seemed painted, slow by a perfectionist, onto the canvas of black asphalt dotted, now, with the beginnings of bright white snow. Lost in himself and desperately trying to stave off any more thought, Tim absorbed his girlfriend's front yard, taking note of every shrub and landscaped pebble. It filled his awareness, like solid primaries slathered into the black lines of a coloring book. And amongst it, suddenly, was something queasy. In the shadows that dripped from the barren winter trees, he saw something staggeringly frightening. He couldn't name it. He couldn't say what it was at all. It was ugly, a grotesque little thing, colorless in the monochrome night. He thought it made his heart stop. It didn't, of course, but it did upend about a gallon of adrenaline into his bloodstream. Tim froze, unsure of what to do. The little colorless thing turned a wrinkled, tiny face toward Tim, and bared a set of spiny little teeth. Tim shivered. He looked at it, he stared straight at it for far too long and felt a barometer change of vomit rise up into his mouth. He forced it down, cringing at the acid taste of it, and bolted toward his car, whispering to himself in an effort to be convinced that thing was wholly imagined.
Before Tim reached his car, a set of headlights focused straight on him. He stopped, doubling his terror and wondering what the hell was going to happen next. He whirled back toward where the little hobgoblin had been, and felt first a wave of relief followed by a crushing assault of anxiety when he saw it was gone. It could be anywhere, now, and that was much worse. For a moment, Tim forgot the headlights. The sound of a car door opening brought him back, and he whipped his attention to the vehicle staring him down with mammoth glowing yellow eyes. A tall figure emerged, dark and obscured. And then he said, "Hey."
Squinting into the headlights, Tim struggled for a second with his own voice recognition software. Cycling through a list of candidates, he finally determined it belonged to Gavin, a co-worker and newly minted friend. "Hey," Tim echoed. "What're you doing here?"
"I figured you'd be here. I wanted to see what you were doing tonight."
"I think I saw a monster," Tim said, unsure of he wanted to sound like he was kidding or not.
"Oh. Wanna get some coffee?"
Tim didn't. He wanted to run. He wanted to go home, crawl under his covers like a child and forget about the whole stupid night. The initial shock of what he'd seen had dribbled out of him, and he was sure, now, that it had been a product of his unhappy imagination. The picture of it, the idea of it was swiftly fading, losing its clarity like removed generations of photocopies. Now, mostly, Tim felt terrible about everything else that had happened, and more than slightly silly for being rattled by a bugbear in the shadows to begin with. Maybe he just needed sleep. His heartbeat was slowing, and his quivers had almost entirely subsided. He felt like a train wreck, a twisted heap of metal and emotion that he didn't want to ply through at all. He decided coffee wasn't such a bad idea after all. "All right." He got in Gavin's car.
"What's open?" Tim asked, buckling himself in. The smell of the car overwhelmed him at first, a kick in the face combination of some sort of linen-esque air freshener and weeks worth of preserved Burger King waste. An unidentifiable indie-rock screed was blaring way too loudly. Reacting to a sharp pain in his thigh, Tim pulled a Jesus action figure out from under his rear end.
"I'm not sure," Gavin said, paying more attention to his stereo than the road as he sped out of the driveway and into the cloned home subdivision. "Nothing here, probably."
"Probably," Tim agreed.
Gavin was flipping through a binder full of CD's, periodically (though not often enough in Tim's opinion) looking up over the steering wheel and adjusting their position on the street. He finally chose one and began the one handed juggle of switching discs.
"I can do that," Tim offered.
"Don't worry about it. It's ok." The car veered into the wrong lane. Gavin whooped and swung it back to its correct place. "You saw a monster?"
"No."
"Oh."
"I'm just tired, right?"
"Probably."
"Probably," Tim agreed.
"I got the new Eels album," Gavin said. "This is it."
"Yeah? I can tell. I mean, I thought it was them. It's good."
"Yeah. So far I like 'Electro-Shock' better. But I just got it, so you know."
"I know."
"It's good though. I'm really into them now. I'm like America's number one Eels fan."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. They're awesome. Do you remember their video for 'Novocaine For The Soul'?"
"Uh... maybe." Tim watched out the window as they drove deeper into the city. There was a weird calm that he got from the reflected street lights and traffic signals. He hated the city in the day time. The crowds bothered him, the possibility of crime jangled him, and the amount of cars clogging up the roads made him absolutely crawl in his skin. The city at night, though, was entirely different. Seeing the empty streets, especially abandoned late on a Sunday, was soothing. The few cars they passed moved slow and deliberately. The buildings stood cold and quiet without any trace of menace. The snowflakes looked perfect as they meandered past the illuminated lamp posts in fluttering patterns. There was something romantic about it, something that created an instant nostalgia. Tim clung to it, drank it in, tried to fill in the scared quaking void of the day with it. His lungs were moving in time with the beat of the light passing through the car windows. It was hypnotic and perfect. "Is that the one where they're floating?"
"Yeah. It's in black and white. Have you ever seen another video of theirs?"
"No. I don't think so."
"I love their music. E is a genius, don't you think? Well, maybe not genius... But I had no idea they were so good. I mean, I always liked that song. It was on the radio all the time, remember?"
Snow was collecting on the cars parked along the street. Tim was suddenly aware that he wasn't nervous about the weather at all. This was strange because he'd been nervous about it since he'd heard the forecast the night before. Tim liked to plan ahead with his anxiety. Driving on snow hazard roads was high on his long list of fears, just below being a passenger on snow hazard roads. But he wasn't nervous now. He was content. The only anxiety he felt was his dread for the end of the drive. He wanted to ride in Gavin's car all night. "Uh huh. I remember."
"I actually got sick of it. I would've never picked up 'Beautiful Freak' if it weren't for you."
"Yeah?"
"Oh yeah. You played... which one was it?"
"Huh?" Tim was entranced. "Which one what?"
"Which song did you play me?"
"Oh. Let's see... it was 'Manchild' I think."
"That's my favorite one. Was 'Susan's House' a single?"
Gavin rolled to a stop at a red light. Tim took a deep breath and made eye contact with an old man at a bus stop. The old man looked remarkably happy, happier than anyone Tim had ever seen. There was a sparkle in his eyes that even the night couldn't hide. He was smiling broadly and his teeth were Easter white. They stood out shockingly against his black skin. Tim smiled back at him, hoping the old man would see. He nodded at Tim as they pulled ahead when the light went green. "Uh huh. I think it was."
"It should've been. That's a great song too. I guess they're all pretty great. And that's not even their best album, you know? I mean, it's awesome, but 'Electro-Shock' is so much better. I would kill to make a record like that. I would kill to make any record, actually. I mean, I would love to be able to sing or write a song... play an instrument or something. I wasn't even in band. My mom didn't want to buy a trombone or anything like that."
"Uh huh. Me neither," Tim said. His mind drifted from the old man back to the imagined hobgoblin. He felt a weird twinge crackle through his gut. "It wasn't real. I'm just tired."
"The monster?" Gavin asked. Tim noticed a hesitation in the question. It didn't surprise him. It was a weird thing to have to ask.
"Yeah. I didn't see anything."
"Oh. Well... that's good."
"Yeah." Tim felt suddenly sad. A very overwhelming heaviness settled down on him, and he decided he should want to cry. But he didn't. It was bigger than that. It was beyond crying. It had skipped, straightaway, to acceptance. "You know something, Gavin?"
"What?"
Tim stared out the window for quite a while. They were close to an all night coffee shop near the university. The snow was falling harder now, and it looked very cold out. "I don't think I love her," Tim said, miserably. "I don't think I ever did."
Gavin found a parking spot on the street and did some parallel acrobatics to cram the car into the tiny space. "Yeah. I know."
"Oh," Tim said, and got out of the car.