Carry Me Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR / Iowa

1. into the steeple of beautiful people

A few hours later they passed through Omaha and into Council Bluffs, Iowa. Tony expected Iowa to be similar to Nebraska, and it was. The differences were subtle, the quality of light was different, the aura was a different color. Sometime before they reached Des Moines they saw a billboard that said: “God hates deadbeat moms.”

“We should stop in Iowa City,” May had told him. Between Des Moines and Iowa City there was very little, just the macrocosmic patchwork of perpetual agriculture. Behind every horizon was an alternate version of a familiar landscape. Sometime before they arrived, May asked a question.

“Are you okay, city boy?” She kept her eyes on the road. It was like she had been thinking about asking it the whole time, but didn’t know if it was appropriate, or didn’t have the confidence.

“I’m fine, cowgirl.” The tape ended. Tony put in a tape of Curtis Mayfield.

“You really fucking scared me back there.” She looked at him. Tony couldn’t look back.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Now you know what I mean by I have pathologies.”

“Its no excuse.” She shook her head. Tony narrowed his eyes.

“It sounds like you’re blaming me.”

“I’m…not. I just… You…” She stumbled through her words as though drunk.

“What?”

“I’m not blaming you.” She shook her head. “I just don’t understand you. I thought that son of a bitch Box was going to fucking kill you.” Tony took the piece of paper that Mr. Box had given him out of his pocket. He considered for a moment telling May about it, but he put it in the bucket with all the tapes instead.

“What did you guys talk about anyway?”

“He said some things about the afterlife and about universal consciousness.” Tony looked at the giant sprinkler things. They looked back at him.

“That’s what he talked about to me too,” May nodded. “He’s so fucked.”

“You are cursing a lot.” Tony frowned.

“Tony, did he want anything from you?” It was a serious question.

“He thought I had psychic potential or something.” He shrugged.

“You do.” Vincent said. “Otherwise how would you be able to see me?” Tony shot him a look that said: You’re not real.

May didn’t say anything for a while. Clouds moved in overhead and it got sort of cold. May rolled up the windows and looked through her things for a sweatshirt. She had Tony take the wheel while she put it on, he accidentally swerved causing her to curse loudly and get tangled up. He apologized rapidly. At sunset the sky was a battlefield, a cold front was charging over Iowa like a runaway train, everything behind it shimmered in its blue light. They pulled off the interstate at the Coralville exit, found a Motel 6. May bargained with the clerk over the price of the room, and Tony wandered around the lobby. He felt like he was in the seventies. The carpet had a strange pattern of yellow semicircles over a purple background. Tony looked away from it: if he stared too long he thought he might throw up.

“Let’s go, nerd.” May poked him. She led him to their room.

“You want to order one of those movies or something?” Tony asked as she put her stuff down.

“Maybe,” May sat down on the bed. “Or, we could party.”

“Party?” Tony laughed. “You mean just me, you, here?”

“No, I mean we find some bar in Iowa City.” Tony agreed somewhat reluctantly and they left the motel and headed downtown.

“We don’t have very much money for drinks.” Tony said.

“You forget: I just made a delivery.” May showed him a manila envelope. “We’re good until we get to New York.”

“May… you don’t have to.”

“Shut the fuck up, I am responsible for the loss of the only thing you have that is worth anything. Your Cadillac. I owe you a little bit.” She winked at him. It wasn’t very far into downtown, they parked on the side of the road and found a pedestrian mall that was just bar after bar after bar full of college kids. They found a pub called Donnelly’s and decided on that. It was dim, the light fell from the ceiling like play dough. Students in leather jackets and polo shirts surrounded them. Some of them were shouting, some of them were not. Most were drunk already. Tony followed May to the bar.

2. I stand up next to a mountain, and I chop it down with the edge of my hand

“Two pints of fat tire.”

“Eight dollars.” The bartender was a wiry dude with a striped v-neck shirt and a fedora. His hands moved quickly like he had too many fingers. She put down the money, and handed Tony a beer. They looked; there weren’t very many places to sit. Jimi Hendrix was playing loudly in the background.

“You guys aren’t from around here, are you?” There was a voice, half-shouting, from behind them. They turned. It was a girl in her twenties wearing a flannel shirt and a winter hat that looked like a helmet. Curly blonde hair plummeted from it.

“My friends and I have a booth, you can join us if you want.” May looked at Tony. It was weird for him to see her caught off guard.

“Yeah, we will.” Tony yelled. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” she said, shaking Tony’s hand. “I’m Emily, we’re just over here.” They followed her to the table. She slid into one side, May and Tony slid in next to her. There were two other guys sitting at the table. They did not acknowledge their arrival; they were having an argument.

“No dude, its not about being undead, or even cursed, its all about their diet.”

“No its not!” the other argued. “In every movie it all originates from some deal with the devil or virus or something.”

“Think about it, pale, greasy complexion, unable to digest solid food.” He gestured with all five fingers.

“So what are you getting at?”

“Vampires become that way because they ate too much fried food.”

“Ahh.” The one on the left turned to Emily.

“Hey M, who’re your friends?” He had dark skin and his eyes were the color of olive oil. His expression was seductive.

“I don’t know actually, they were doing the loser dance over at the bar so I decided to take them in.” Emily laughed. May was about to say something, but the guy interrupted her.

“Oh shit the loser dance. You guys must not be from around here?”

“What is the loser dance?” Tony asked. May looked upset.

“Its when you don’t know where to sit so you just look around.” Emily imitated May looking around the bar for a seat.

“Ignore them, so where’re you guys from?” The guy on the right spoke. He was also wearing flannel, he had curly blonde hair and hemp tied around his neck like a collar.

“I’m from LA.” He nodded and looked at May, expecting an answer.

“Utah.” She said. She took a long drink from her pint.

“What brings you guys to Iowa City?” asked Emily. Her voice was sort of deep and nasally, it made her sound apathetic and cool. Her eyes seemed half open as though she had done a lot of drugs.

“We’re passing through,” Tony said. “We’re on our way to New York City.” Emily nodded.

“That’s a long trip. How do you guys know each other, are you--?”

“No, no,” May interrupted. “We actually met on the road.”

“Wow that is so cool.” Emily said. “By the way, this is Chenowith—“ she pointed to the dark-skinned one—“and that’s Owen.” She indicated the one in plaid. He got up.

“I’m gonna get a round of shots,” he smiled with half his mouth. He wore a blue hat turned backwards.

“We’re good,” May said, shaking her head.

“Alright, nice.” He went up to the bar.

“So do you guys go to Iowa?” Tony asked. He was trying to seem outgoing. Emily nodded as she drank her beer.

“I’m originally from Hawaii,” she said.

“What the fuck are you doing out here?” Tony asked. Chenowith laughed.

“Yeah, Em, what the fuck are you doing out here?” He smiled charismatically.

“I’m sick of the question,” her voice was angry but she was smiling. “That and people who ask me, hey Emily, you’re from Hawaii, do you surf?”

“Do you?” Tony wondered.

“Fuck you. You probably get that all the time too, you’re from California.” She was joking.

“Actually this is the farthest east I’ve been. So no.” Tony fiddled with his keys; the keys to his Cadillac.

“So, do you surf?” Chenowith joked. Everyone laughed. Just then Owen arrived with an armful of shots.

“Tequila for everyone!” He announced joyfully.

“I said we were good!” May protested.

“So is the tequila.” Owen smiled mischievously. He shrugged and the seasons changed from summer to autumn. The trees all lost their leaves.

3. Maggie comes fleet foot, face full of black soot

The ethanol swelled beneath their feet like an underground river. Each beer swept over them like a wave over a reef. It was a long and steady high tide in the coves of their bellies. It was maybe five shots and six beers later… no one could remember. The five of them stumbled out of the bar and into the city wind. They could see their breath when they talked, like their words were trying to take physical form. Their conversations hovered like ghosts above them.

“So do you guys, like, like college?” May giggled. There was red around her eyes like she’d been crying.

“College sucks man!” Chenowith skipped a rock down the pavement. “I’m going to graduate unskilled just like everyone else. I’m going to have to sell LSD to minors.”

“LSD is pretty safe.” Emily sniggered.

“Its schedule one. You’ll still go to jail.” Owen had his hands in his pockets like a bandit.

“At least your conscience won’t go to jail with you.” May said.

“Chenowith in jail without a conscience…” Emily looked over at Owen.

“Someone’s asshole is unsafe.” Owen finished.

During the day the shadows waltzed with the sun as it arced overhead, now at nighttime the shadows cast by streetlights took up residence behind trees and buildings. They were the permanent and inevitable shades of night. Sometimes oncoming headlights or sirens erased them, but they always reemerged. In the background, underneath the threshold of perception, the moon and stars danced subtle steps, nary noticed and often forgotten.

“Where are we going?” Tony asked. They had walked a few blocks.

“The Red Poppy,” said Chenowith. “You’ll like it.” They walked up some concrete stairs and through a large wooden door. Immediately to the left there was a glass counter full of glass pipes and objects. Tony immediately smelled tobacco smoke. Chenowith and Owen led them in. The building was laid out like a house, with rooms and hallways and couches. A lot of the furniture seemed beat up and burnt; but in a charming way. The walls were all painted ambient colors and the windows were high and narrow.

“What is this place?” asked May.

“It’s a hookah bar,” Tony whispered. It boosted his confidence that he knew and May didn’t, like he finally had one up on her. Truthfully, it couldn’t have mattered less, and Tony knew it. They sat down on the floor around a glass table. Owen ordered something that Tony didn’t hear, and they waited and talked.

“You wear that hat cool, Em,” Owen complimented her. She adjusted it a little.

“Thanks…”

“So what kind of music do you guys like?” Chenowith nodded to May and Tony.

“Mostly I like things from before 1995,” May looked at Tony. “I have a huge box of tapes in my car, since my truck doesn’t have a CD player and I travel a lot I usually find them.”

“Cool.” Chenowith said.

“What flavor did you order?” Tony asked Owen across the table.

“Pomegranate.” Owen’s half smile never changed.

“Hookah safari!” Emily smiled at him. He laughed. Tony blinked, it must be an inside joke. When the hookah arrived they took turns taking puffs out of the smoky totem. Tony felt himself moving with the smoke, as though he was no longer solid.

“I wonder if hookahs ever have genies in them.” Emily wondered aloud.

“You mean like in Aladdin?” Tony suggested.

“Yeah, totally like Aladdin.” She nodded.

“Aladdin is such an asshole.” Chenowith crossed his arms.

“No he isn’t, that was like my favorite movie as a kid.” Emily was visibly shocked at his distaste.

“It is probably the most misunderstood story of all time,” Chenowith explained. “You would probably agree that Aladdin is generally considered a hero and Jafar is generally considered to be an asshole.”

“Right…” Emily said. May and Tony listened intently.

“Well, like all stories, it was rewritten by those in power, so once Aladdin was sultan, he made quite certain that his side of the story was widely accepted.”

“So what’s the real story?” May asked.

“Well, the Sultan at that time was not a good ruler. He cared more about his toys then about his people. Agrabah was slowly falling to poverty. Crime was rampant, Aladdin was a product of the Sultan’s failures, and he exploited a city while it was weak,” Chenowith began to lecture.

“I prefer the Sultans of Swing,” May commented. “Speaking of which… isn’t this Dire Straits?” Owen blinked.

“Its Bob Dylan,” he corrected her. May looked sort of sheepish.

“Anyway… all the attempts by Jafar to become sultan were actually noble attempts to try and rescue a city that he loved. When Jafar discovered the existence of the lamp, he saw it as an opportunity to repair his city in one fell swoop. The only problem was that he was old, and the path into the Cave of Wonders was a difficult hike.”

“So he recruited Aladdin.” Tony said.

“Exactly, and Aladdin stole the lamp for himself.”

“Wait a minute, if all Jafar really wanted to do was fix the city, why didn’t he just wish for that when he had Iago steal the lamp back?”

“Jafar never got the lamp back. That’s because Aladdin lied about what he wished for… Jafar didn’t attempt to have him killed at all, in fact, Jafar was busy trying to rally people to his cause to overthrow the sultan. He was actually getting a lot of support, by that time he was out of the palace.

“No, Aladdin’s true three wishes were: Make me a prince, make the princess fall in love with me, and imprison Jafar inside of a lamp.”

“I thought that the genie couldn’t make anyone fall in love.” Emily was skeptical.

“Well he could,” Chenowith explained. “The last thing Aladdin wanted was for Jasmine to know that he had wished for her love. He thought that might’ve been awkward. So he and the Sultan actually cooked up the plan to get rid of Jafar, they thought that if the people thought they had been bamboozled by an evil, treacherous sorcerer, they would turn their backs on their memory of him… and they did.”

“That’s an interesting perspective on that story,” Owen blinked. “How long have you been harboring these feelings that you know everything.” Chenowith laughed.

“Fuck you, Owen.”

“Disney always did pick on the ugly people. That’s why those people always got made fun of at school… it was like… ‘whenever I look at you, I think of Disney villains.’” Emily explained.

“You’re cold,” accused Owen.

“Its true,” Emily insisted. “There was this girl in the fourth grade, her name was Stevie. I remember thinking to myself. ‘No you can’t borrow my crayon Stevie, you look like fucking Ursula.”

“There’s another story that got messed up, the Little Mermaid” Chenowith sniffed. “More like Captain Sodomy and the Merwhores.”

“I could not possibly be more bored by these conversations.” Emily was serious. This trio was just regular college kids, but they left some kind of imprint on Tony. They were reminders that he wasn’t alone in the world, that there were others as lost as he was. Emily adjusted her helmet-hat.

4. Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone

That morning Tony woke up in a meadow. There was grass and flowers all around him, and further off was the woods, as though he was in a clearing.

“What the fuck…” he whispered this to himself. Did he really drink that much? He rubbed his eyes, he felt like shit. Tony felt as though he was in college again. Vincent kicked him.

“You came from that way,” he pointed in a direction. His sunglasses sparked like flint and steel. He offered his hand, and Tony accepted. Vincent dragged him to his feet.

“How did I get here?” he asked, brushing the dirt off of him.

“You wandered here.” Vincent answered, leading him in the direction he’d pointed.

“Does May know…?” Tony started.

“Probably. Also she is probably not amused.”

“Shit,” black birds flew overhead, bickering like children. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know,” Vincent took off his sunglasses and looked at him. “Do I look like father time?”

“Why did I wander off?” asked Tony. Vincent replaced his sunglasses.

“Why do you do anything you do?” he sighed. “Because Sarah.”

“Did she try and contact me?” Tony whipped out his phone.

“She messaged you.” Vincent said. Tony could not find it. “I deleted it, asshole.”

“Why? How? Fuck you, Vince.” Tony walked ahead of him, into the trees. There was a river, and then a road. May’s truck was there, but she wasn’t. Vincent didn’t respond. Tony got into the passenger seat of the truck, and fell back asleep.

When he woke up for the second time, the car was moving. May was whistling along with Bill Withers.

“Good morning” she said.

“I’m sorry,” Tony apologized rapidly. “I don’t even remember what happened.”

“Whoa, its okay” May said. “Tequila will do that to you.”

“I don’t even remember leaving the hookah bar.” Tony frowned.

“Have you ever heard the word tachyon?” asked May.

“I think so,” Tony turned to face her in the seat. She had placed a blanket over him.

“Something about quantum field theory, or maybe unified field. Not sure. Anyway, it moves faster than light,” she gave a brisk explanation.

“Sure.” Tony blinked.

“Well as I’m sure you know, time dilates as the speed of light approaches. So since the tachyon moves faster than light, that means it must travel backwards in time.”

“Where are you going with this?” asked Tony.

“That’s what being blackout drunk reminds me of. How memories are missing or out of order. Like time isn’t linear, like we’ve been time traveling.”

“Being blackout drunk makes you think about quantum fields,” Tony thought for a moment. “I woke up in a field, does that count?”

“Claro.” May smiled.

“Are you even hung over?” Tony sat up more.

“Not really. I’m in good physical condition and also I drank water last night.” May flexed her biceps. Tony swatted it down. She swerved and bopped him on the head. He whipped her with the blanket. She laughed.

“Cut it out, Tony,” his name out of her mouth. He thought of Sarah, and stopped. May giggled but Tony’s face lost its mirth, returned again to its hung over grimace.