If I'm Sinking In Laughing At Something Sunken In I Am

Chapter 2

Dan’s doing OK. Really.

Okay, not really.

But after his suicide attempt, Dan Cain never stopped fighting. He kept moving forward. Became a fighter, a biter, as well as a kicker, a puncher, a grabber, and anything else you’d be if you grew up frightened and wounded like him. A real fucking trooper. Even if it feels like he's standing at death's door every day.

Somehow, Dan makes it to eighteen. His birthday comes. Despite the fact that the days don’t really seem to go by.

It’s July now, the 4th, and the days are hotter, with fireflies flickering during the mellow evenings. There’s a fire burning in the backyard, and the crickets won’t stop singing for him.

Herbert’s there, and Meg is too. Both settled around the back deck, smiling and laughing at how the June bugs keep flying into the electric trap, kamikaze-style. They’re visiting Dan for the summer before college, just waiting for dinner to be set. Hungry after a lengthy drive to visit him all the way in Hicksville, Massachusetts.

Charlotte fixes up a spicy beef gumbo. Mean, hearty food to nourish the soul and Dan’s anemia. It doesn’t take long before it’s dumped in bowls and everybody’s gathered at the table, grabbing scoops of fresh-made insalada di arrance. And fuck, it’s better than Mama’s version by a mile. Tastes like bad memories being overwritten with sweet ones.

Instead of a traditional American cake, Ruth bakes her Grandmother’s strawberry shortcake with fresh Creole cream drizzled on top. It’s a sugary ode to her Louisiana heritage. Tart, milky bread that Dan can barely pick at because of his medications. Charlotte hands a second helping anyway.

Unlike Mama, aunt Charlotte always urges Dan to eat more. Brings sliced fruit to his room before bed. Crackers and rice cakes throughout the day to keep his energy up. Even if it’s junk food or candy, she’ll convince Dan to eat it with a stern voice. Eating something is much better than eating nothing, you know.

It’s made him gain fifty-five pounds since February.

By midnight, the celebratory champagne stops. Dan’s a little drunk, curled around Herbert in the grass, getting warmed by the campfire. He’s holding a box of frosted animal crackers. A birthday gift. His favorite. Herbert wasn’t sure what to buy. He reckons that the gesture is sweet and sentimental in its own ‘Herbert West’ kind of way.

Dan sits under this weeping willow a lot. By the firepit that’s always crackling with split wood. Next to the chicken coops and immature crops. Just to get away from the world. Just to write his stupid thoughts in a journal like his therapist tells him to.

But this time, he’s kicking back under its wispy leaves with his hometown friends, talking about silly, dumb things like hot cheerleaders, resurrecting dead bodies, becoming world-famous scientists. It’s so mundane and ordinary, he feels like a teenager for the first time. Far too late for the hippie heyday, far too early to be a yuppie.

Dan was forced to grow up. Too fast. His high school years were characterized by maturity only known by adults. Papà was never around. Mama did inappropriate, suggestive things. Grandfather twisted his soul. 

They all dragged him into the world’s rot way too early. Warped his brain; wounded him. It’s just what happens when you’re forced to act like you’re twenty, but you’re just twelve and tiny. Still naïve while you're being ripped from innocence.

Here, Dan feels like he’s sixteen again. Still in high school. Back at Miskatonic High. Young and impenetrable, without any legitimate threat this time. No Caro. No Papà. Not even a single worry about missing movie night with Mama.