Volume X: The Industry of Chemical Artistry - or - The Age of Rockism

12. Indecision

I packed my clothes quickly and abruptly; taking more care with the paperwork that was nestled carefully away. They were priceless right now, the fruits of my labors. They made this trip worthwhile. My dance with death had purpose. I wondered if I should try to find her before my departure. Then I thought of Caine’s warnings and thought better of it. This was love, and this was loss, all at once. My body didn’t know how to hold it. My mind was very confused in itself. I discovered something great, something wonderful and worth saving for all eternity. And in that same breath, it was snatched away from me. I packed and decided to leave at night. I’d spend my last few hours wandering just as I was always fond of doing. There was a race tonight as well, I thought about it. Caine was scheduled to be playing a show, accompanied by Deacon, at one of the local watering holes. I could do it all. I deduced that I’d make the most of this, my last day and night in my home away from home. I would go hear the kids play for a while, listening to those forlorn guitar chords echo amidst rooms filled with smoke and conversation. Then move off to catch the festivities of the races, see who came out on top. And after that, in the wee hours of the new day, I’d take my bags and hop the first bus home. As I walked out of the little inn, I dropped my mail in the box, one of which was a letter to Mr. Wolfe, the owner of the inn, with a check for my occupancy. I didn’t want to hand it to him directly, since he disputed my paying anything at all. In that way, everything was clear.

I walked with my hands in my pockets, smoking as I went, over to the place that the kids were playing at. Caine was off talking to the barkeep, Deacon was sitting fiddling around with her guitar, making sure everything was in tune. Her face seemed to light up when I came in, she jumped up and ran over to me.

“Hey, what’s up?”

I looked around, confused, bewildered. “Huh?”

She laughed, like a child. She seemed reborn, a completely different from the girl I used to know. I don’t know if Caine changed her, or sobriety, but she wasn’t the sullen girl that lived next door, who moved from chemical to chemical, guy to guy, day after night and so on. She just seemed so much...happier. She was free. I smiled back at her, shaking away the confusion.

“Hey, um, nothing. You?”

“Come for the show?” She tilted her head a little, moving her eyes over to Caine. He was straightening out a few last minute details; he looked over and smiled at us both, a slight wink in Deacon’s direction. I was happy for them both. There was love everywhere. Shirley and Moe. Deacon and Caine. And yet here I stood, my life completely forbidden. Figures. I thought of Irish, how alone she was, how she didn’t seem to mind it in the slightest. Maybe you didn’t need anybody to make it in this life. Then again, it’s nice to have company. I thought of Damiano’s warm skin, her soft touch...and I threw all of Irish’s theories out a window. I nodded back at Deacon as I zoned in, coming back to this moment.

“Course, wouldn’t miss it for the world. Going to the races?”

She nodded back. “Course. Wouldn’t miss it.”

And we both laughed, like there was some sort of secret joke that only we shared. There was some sort of underlying feeling of discomfort, but overall, here we were. Years of isolation as both of us hid in plain sight and we were both reborn. I felt closer to Deacon now, standing here, talking about nothing, than I ever had before. Her troubled past, her case history, everything, it all seemed to slip away and she became just a carefree girl, no - young woman. She looked so much happier; I couldn’t believe the physical glow she had to her now.

The beginning of something more. Of something more than this. The past was dead and gone, and we were all reinventing ourselves. It’s what us artists specialize in. I thought about when I got home, looking into opening a gallery, I’d invite Deacon to showcase her work with me. I wondered if she ever intended to go home. Somehow, I doubted it. Then again, stranger things have happened in this world. Every day, the standards get tested. And every day, lines are bending, breaking, and reforming elsewhere.