The Typical Insanity

f l o u n d e r carter something?

So maybe I was the only one between the two of us who was ready to physically kill someone and maybe I was the only one who kept asking to do it. But needless to say, I think torture finished it up quite nicely actually.
And so, after leaving the battered delinquents at a construction site after hours, Adam, Nadia and I had set out for Coney Island and just as I'd said I would, I took Adam back to the bar with cotton candy in one hand and a begrudging smile on his face. I felt a sense of smug satisfaction as we waited outside his grandfather's bar, as if I'd achieved some great victory, when in fact I just let a sad-but-not-really teenage boy play with my eager-to-play puppy-who's-like-a-teenager-in-dog-years. Oh also I helped him take revenge on his bullies anonymously. Either way, I think it was a successful day.
I noticed that the bar was pretty full when one of Adam's grandfather's minions opened the door (his name was Fishy something I think) and this time, thankfully, he just nodded and let me in without commenting on how I couldn't possibly be 'him' (probably referring to Rien). Anyway, Adam nibbled on his cotton candy as we waited for the other minion to go get Adam's grandfather (I can't for the life of me remember his name, was it Vincent something? Yeah, yeah, Vincent V- something right?)
"So, Adam, you had a good time?" I ask him as we awkwardly watch the bar patrons go about their business.
"It was definitely the worst, most horrible, terrible, utterly despicable day of my life," he pauses and looks over to me. "But it was fun to beat the shit out of those jocks."
"It would've been so much more fun if you'd have let me cut off some limbs and let them have a slow death of blood loss, but ohkay."
Adam rolls his eyes and smirks a little.
Nadia's been staying very obediently beside us despite the lack of a leash. Such a good puppy-who's-like-a-teenager-in-dog-years, wait are dogs allowed in here? I hope so, I don't think I'm too comfortable leaving Nadia on the streets alone again.
"Adam! Mister Carter!" Vincent V-something's voice booms from the back. "Welcome back! Is my grandson happy?"
"Erm, I'd like to think so?" I say, but what I really wanted to say was 'He better frickin' be happy, we went all the way to Coney Island for his damn cotton candy!'.
"It was alright, grandad, he's not that lame."
I fake gasp. "Was that, an actual compliment?! Oh my!"
"Oh my god, shut up or I'll tell everyone you're in love with Britney Spears."
"Who would you even tell that would affect me?"
"I'll tell Clementine. She'd love to hear about your love for Britney, wouldn't she?"
"You wouldn't."
"I guess we'll just have to find out, won't we?"
The grandfather I forgot was there started laughing wholeheartedly, startling the two of us. "That's proof enough for me, look you even have a cute cone of candy floss!"
"Told you it would work." I whisper smugly to Adam.
"Yeah, yeah."
Nadia starts whining softly, how unbecoming of her.
"Hey, Carter, we don't let no dogs in here, ya gotta take that mutt outta here."
Adam kneels down and pats Nadia. "She's not a mutt, she's part wolf. Isn't that right, girl?" Nadia stares blankly at him. "I'll go out and play with her until you're done with your... stuff. That okay Nemo?"
"Yeah sure, knock yourself out."
"Awesome, c'mon girl."
When they go, Adam's grandfather puts a hand on my shoulder, subsequently making me jump awkwardly.
“Well, I gotta say, Carter, you did a better job than I’ve ever even tried to accomplish. Let’s have a toast to solidify our little, agreement, eh?” And he leads me to the bar I was at earlier today except a bit more crowded than it was back then. Good job, Captain Obvious, it’s not like you didn’t know the bar was closed back then and now it’s open, geez why do I even overthink these things?!
“Hey, uh, hey, yo, man, I think a contract or something would be better, don’t you think?”
“Hm,” He goes behind the counter once again and pulls out a bottle of Rum. “Don’t believe in agreements on paper.”
“But- but- I don’t even drink!” I start walking to the bar as well.
“That’s why I’m having the bartender here making you a simple Rum and coke while I go tend to some business. And listen up, Carter, you’re not allowed to leave my establishment unless that glass he serves you is empty, y’hear?”
“I hear.” I say, defeated. He nods with satisfaction and walks off.
I make my way towards the seat he (Vitali! His name was Vincent Vitali! Yes!) sort of assigned for me, passing by several patrons. But as I walked, I realized that one of the heads seemed familiar and taking a step backward, I tried to figure out who he was. When he lifted his glass of what could probably be considered whiskey, I caught his reflection in the glass and my eyes widened and my palms became clammy. Wasn’t he that one detective that came over to my place and questioned me and Clem about the arson of the Corporate Silver buildings that I am in fact the culprit of? And is my assigned bar stool the one directly beside his? I sit two seats away from and hope that he doesn’t recognise me.
The bored bartender serves me my drink of rum and coke and suddenly it’s the most interesting thing in the whole wide world. Wow look at the colour so deep yet almost translucent waow, much cool, very pretty, so- Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, he’s looking at me, oh no, oh no, oh no, now he’s looking back again, oh no, he looks like he recognizes me, oh noes.
“Hey, aren’t you that one guy?”
“Oh um. Who? Me?”
“Yeah. You. You’re the one with that hot wife with tea.”
“Are you sure you’re not mistaken? I mean, y’kn ow, there’s a lot of guys with wives with tea, y’know haha.”
“No, I’m pretty sure we’ve met before,” he scooches over the bar stool. “Your name was Flounder Carter something? It’s Detective Young, we met while I was working on the Corporate Silver case remember?”
“It’s Nemo Carter, actually.” Well the jig is up I guess. “And yeah, I remember you now haha, just had a little short term memory loss y’know? Haha.” If I could stop being awkward as hell, that would be great.
“Hm, thought I’d recognized you. So what’s a guy like you doin’ in a place like this? Doesn’t  the missus get worried about you out and about at this hour?”
"Um, sort of, she kicked me out because, I don't actually even know why but either way I'm out on the street until I find a way to make it up to her or she forgets about it. Preferably the latter."
"You two go at it a lot, eh?"
"Yeah." I admit sheepishly.
"I can tell, you don't seem too worried about being kicked out and that's either because you're a scumbag who deserves it which I doubt or, you two love each other enough to know that grudges never last the night."
"Huh. Never thought of it like that. Lemme guess, you have it the same way with your wife too?"
He smiles like he's remembering a bittersweet memory. "I thought I did. Turns out her grudges last 13 years and is in the form of a 16 year old spoiled brat, courtesy of her asswipe boyfriend."
Ohkay then, I'm sensing a lot of pent-up rage right now.
"Haha well we all have bad days, y'know? Haha." I want to face palm myself but then he can see my hands shaking.
Despite all my totally warranted anxiety brought by Detective David Young, I couldn't help but feel sad for the guy. Sure, he isn't as depressing as my life before all this madness, but it's still pretty depressing to hear about his personal life being so shit. And I promise you, whoever you are, that the words I said next were borne out of sheer sympathy for the Detective.
"Hey, my girlfr- Clementine's been egging me to arrange this picnic for her so I was wondering if you'd maybe want to come tomorrow?"
He looks surprised. "A picnic? I haven't been to one of those in years, are you sure you want me there? I mean, no offense but we barely know each other, man." He says with a light chuckle.
"I'm sure an interrogation and tea is a good enough first date." Oh no do I sound like I'm flirting oh no.
Thankfully he just laughs; genuinely this time, and nods. "Sure, either way I have nothing to do tomorrow, so count me in I guess."
"Alrighty then! I think I still have that card you gave us when we first met so I'll text you the details later."
"Fine by me. Oh, and good luck with your Clementine."
"Oh geez, don't remind me. I have to go home to Hurricane Clem soon."
"Haha, have a good night, Mr. Carter, I'll see you tomorrow then." He leaves at last and a combination of relief and regret and satisfaction surge through me before I settle on just being tired.
Eventually I manage to catch a cab home, and find myself home at about 3am. The only thing on my mind right now is sleeping on my ugly couch. And maybe also drinking something not alcohol based. Preferably coke. The cola kind. Not the drug kind. Can coke be made into a drink? Would it taste bitter or sweet? And would it be even more potent or less potent than it is it's... Usual drug form..? Oh boy, I really need to stop thinking, period. Thankfully I reach the front door without anymore unnecessary thoughts about drugs and ring the doorbell.
A muffled voice behind the door calls out. "Who is it?" Except it sounded more like 'Whoo iiis iiiit?'
"Um, it's me? Clem?"
"Come in." Which was more like 'come iiin'.
"Jesus Christ, Clem," I say as I open the door. "You can't just leave the door open just like tha-"
My eyes trail past the rose petals strewn haphazardly on the floor and candles melting onto the discoloured carpets to Clementine slipping a large trench coat off her shoulders to reveal a barely-there negligée.
"I've been waiting, Mr. Carter." She's says with a sultry stare.
"How long have you been sitting there in your underwear waiting for me?"
"Does it matter?"
"Yeah, because what if some random person decides to walk in and you're just standing here like you're on the cover of a romance novel for bored women over 50."
"Would you be jealous?" She asks, smirking.
"Of you being molested by a stranger coming to rob us? Sure, sure."
"Ugh, you're so annoying sometimes." She scoffs and picks up the trench coat she had dropped earlier, folding it into a neat little pile.
"I'm annoying for being cautious?"
"No! You're annoying for spoiling the mood! You're annoying for being so oblivious! You're annoying for barely even being there!"
"It's not like I can really help it, Clem."
I lock the door behind me and follow Clementine as she stomps around the cramped apartment.
"But you can try! It's almost like you don't mind it when they take over your life! You barely even know what's going on half the time!"
She walks to the kitchen and begins cleaning up.
"At least it's better than being a butter-fingered ditz the rest of the time"
Clementine gasps, tightening her grip on a sole plate. "Is that what you think of me?!"
"I mea- you're not necessarily th-"
"You want to see butter-fingers, I'll show you butter-fingers." She flings the plate at the ground. "Oops, it slipped!"
"Hey, now, Clem-"
She throws another to the floor. "Oops I did it again! Just another day as Clem! What will she do next?! Mayb-"
"Clementine, just shut the fuck up already!"
I don't think I've ever really heard myself yell at a person like that. I think I feel bad, but then again I don't because I just wanted the little drama queen to stop, is that too much to ask? Should I have been less mean about it? Sure, but hey, I'm a first time offender. I think.
"Okay, Clementine, if you don't want to play the ditzy blonde, tell me five instances where you've actually helped and not been a nagging, whining, plate-breaking pain in the ass?!"
She looks taken aback for a second before her fiery expression makes an appearance again.
"Who cleaned up the dead girl in the living room for you?"
"Oh you cleaned the remains of a body you shot? Ah how could I forget! You know we should go down to Party City soon."
"What?" She spits out.
"You know that store, right? The one that sells all the costumes for Halloween and all? I'm sure we'll find a nice French maid outfit for you there and then you'll finally look the part of the role you play in this household!"
Her clear blue eyes widen before tearing up. I began to regret my harsh words just as she'd raised her open palm and slapped me across the face.
"You always say such horrible things. Every time. Always. Always. But I just brush it off, you're not you, you're stressed, you're busy, I need to just be there for you." She fights back her tears. "I know I'm a crybaby, I know I'm clumsy, I know I'm useless. If it were any other man, I'd be so much more, more-"
"Look, Clem-"
"Just let me finish. If it were any other man, I would be a more confident woman. I would never follow him around like a lapdog, or be at his every beck and call. But I've got problems too. I live all alone and when things get bad, all you want is to just stop trying to control it. Just give up. It had been a month since I had broken up with my boyfriend when we met; which would explain the drinking. My rent was due that month, I couldn't find any work, my medication had run out and, and I- I-" Her sobbing gets the best of her and  she covers her face in her hands. I take a step towards her.
"No!" She shouts. "Don't come near me." Her voice is barely a whisper now. "If you hated me so much, why do you keep me around?"
I sigh and sit down, leaning my back on the kitchen counter. "I could ask you the same thing. I abuse you and then forget about it, I'm barely even home but when I am, I treat you like shit. Hell, I wasn't even here for the past month and left you with some sort of monster of my design. Why do you stay? You could leave anytime you wanted."
"Because most times you're not you and most times the real you is a real dick, but there are these sometimes where you're the most wonderful man I know. Sometimes you're funny but not in your usual snarky way. Most times you treat me like I'm a goddess but all I crave is those sometimes you treat me like your lover."
"I- I didn't realise you felt that way, Clem."
A part of me wants her to despise me and pack her bags to leave for good because honestly, if there's one thing I know about my muddy messed up feelings, it's that I want her to be happy. Even if that means I won't be happy. But then again there's that lil’ selfish part of me that enjoys being told how much of a good man I can be occasionally, that loves keeping Clementine around just remind himself that someone like her loves someone like me. It's a cruel ego boost to keep someone around like that but treat them miserably. But I guess I'm cruel then. Because I really don't want her to leave, I mean, I just got here.
From out of nowhere, Rien's voice chimes in. "You guys make me want vomit. Like, could this get anymore clichéd? 'Ooh la la, I am sad and so mad, I have emotions and I am pretty, here have a backstory so we can sympathize with me.'" He mocks Clementine with a frankly severely stereotypical French accent. "C'mon, man! You were doing so well! Calling out French Fry on her bullshit! Why'd you stop?"
Because it was mean?
"So? Someone had to say it, all she does is whine and sit idle and cry. What's she even good for?"
Ummmm, hmmmmmmmm let me guess..... MOTHER OF MY CHILD MAYBE?
"Oh right. Shit. Forgot about that. Abortion clinics aren't too far away."
"She's not getting an abortion!"
"Huh? What?!" Sometimes I forget that I'm the only one who can see Rien. Maybe it's a good thing he can only wreak havoc on me.
"I don't want an abortion, Nemo." She places her hands around her more or less still flat stomach protectively. "Just tell me to leave if you don't want the baby that bad!"
"No, no, I don't want anything to happen to you or the baby! Unless it includes both of you staying here with me in this dank apartment."
Rien yells loudly from wherever he's currently lurking. "I don't recall this apartment being filled with memes!"
"I think we're okay with that." Clementine sniffles and smiles shyly.
I smile back while Rien pretends to loudly puke in the background.
"Ugh can you just tell her about the picnic thing tomorrow so we can all call it a night already?!"
"Oh wait that's right! Clem, remember you kept saying how much you wanted a picnic? Well tomorrow's your chance!"
"Really? Wow, who's coming?"
"Well mainly a certain Detective Young but we can invite other people."
"Hm, wait, isn't he that detective that was investigating your night-time activities?"
"Ew don't make it sound gross, and yeah, but he's a nice guy. His wife is mean and his daughter is too. Let's be social."
"Are you sure this is a good idea?"
"Geez woman, you bug about having picnic for ages but the minute I give you one, you go hesitant. Yes it's a good idea! He'll see how normal and nice we are and then we'll be besties and he'll have no reason whatsoever to suspect us for anything Rien decides to do!"
"Don't talk about me like I'm not here!" He pauses for a moment. "Also I'm not the only one doing stuff, you were the one that burnt down that corrupt Church."
"Anyways, we should probably think about other details like who and when and all that crap."
"Huh." Clementine sits in her little spot, cornered by shattered ceramics and cheap china. As she mulls over the fine print of our picnic tomorrow, I just realized how glad I am that things are turning out so, so, idealistic. I have a romantic partner, a lil kid on the way, I've actually got people I can call friends and a somewhat sort of steady income. Things are good. And now I'm scared, I don't usually get to keep nice things for long. I guess I have nothing to do but enjoy it while it lasts and hope it doesn't come to an end.
Clementine starts listing off things on her fingers. "So we should probably get a good amount of food,"
"I can help with cooking, I mean, I did survive on my own before you came in; breaking every dish I own."
"Ah, right." She blushes and hides her face behind her thick locks of blonde hair. "So then maybe tomorrow afternoon at Central Park?"
"That sounds good, yeah. I guess we should start worrying about who to invite now."
"So the Detective. Then, Lauren should be able to come and, um..."
"I can invite Adam, maybe he could bring a friend too."
"Oh yeah! Such a nice boy, seems a little sad though."
"That's taken care of, trust me." I grin and remember how happy he looked watching his bullies get some sweet sweet vengeance thrown back at them.
"That's good." She smiles softly to herself. "Do you think our baby would turn out like him?"
"... I don't know."
And I didn't. It's still a surreal feeling thinking about a fetus like that. Like any minute now there's going to be a dramatic plot twist and it turns out the fetus never existed in the first place.
I stand up. "You should go to bed now, Clem. We can talk tomorrow morning."
"Oh okay."
I help her out of the obstacle course of broken plates she'd created on the floor.
She stops before closing the bedroom  door completely. "Will you be sleeping on the couch again? Because you can always come sleep in your own bed with me."
I glance at the godforsaken ugly couch. "It's alright, I'll sleep on the couch today."
And then I had an epiphany. A sudden realisation that stunned me to where I stood.
Oh my god, I'm in love with my couch.