Teenage Dirtbag - Introduction

Teenage Dirtbag - Introduction

                Shiloh walked up the steps to his house. He was relieved that he ended up here, not somewhere unfamiliar. The pounding in his head reminded him of how much he had to drink tonight at his graduation party.

                What a joke. He thought it was ridiculous how much everyone cried. Frequent wishes of never wanting to be apart, yearbook signings that could be their own separate novels – even Rich ended up sobbing during the latter part of the night. Shiloh knew from his sister’s experience that those feelings would disappear within a couple of months. Soon everyone would be making friends at their new colleges and would completely forget about the ones they had in high school.

                The warm evening breeze was nice and welcoming. Summer was just around the corner – the last one he would have before entering the grown up world. He stepped foot inside his house, the smell of dinner still lingering throughout.

                “Shiloh!” exclaimed his mother in a bright, high-pitched tone. She was amused to see her son jump in surprise at the shock of her still being awake at this hour. Mr. Carver sat in his usual chair in the living room, a small and slightly smug smile playing across his lips.

                “You… guys are still awake?” Shiloh asked suspiciously.

                “Yes! Well see, we wanted to talk to you. And really, today couldn’t have been a more perfect day. I mean with you graduating, and everyone happy-,”

                “So you guys stayed up late to tell me?”  The alcohol was making Shiloh slightly nauseous. Whatever his mother was about to tell him, she needed tell it to him fast.

                “Yes, I mean, it’s important news. You see your father and I are getting a divorce.”

                Now he really felt sick. He mindlessly nodded his head as his mother went on and on about how this was a mutual decision, how they both were happy to make this choice. Their lives were going in different directions, and really everything would be so much better this way. The lady could talk.

                “Excuse me,” Shiloh gasped as he ran to the bathroom. That alcohol was not going to stay down.

                As he sat on the linoleum floor, all Shiloh could think of was pure anger. How could his parents do this? Why did they sound so darn happy about it all? Divorce was a horrible thing, and this one certainly went under his nose. He didn’t even find his mother and father to be dysfunctional. They always seemed to click together in ways most other couples did.

                He kept thinking it over. Thirty years of being together. You would have thought if they could last that long, they could certainly last the rest of their lives. That’s why couples said “I do” on their wedding day. To be together forever. It just didn’t make sense. Why now? How could they think that telling him today would be perfect, as opposed to any other day? His mother knocked on the door.

                “Shiloh, are you okay?” The thin wooden door couldn’t filter her loud, screechy voice. Shiloh cringed, and allowed himself to open the door.

                “Yes.”

                “I’ll go grab a washcloth,” winced his mother. She must have smelt the residue of vomit on his lip. Shiloh looked over at his father, still sitting in his chair.

                “Are you really getting divorced, dad?” He walked a few steps closer.

                “Yes. You’ve heard your mother.”

                A hint of sadness played over his father’s eyes. It was obvious the divorce wasn’t entirely as mutual as his mother made it out to be. Shiloh nodded his head in understanding and made his way over to his room, a suitcase and his savings in mind.

                Shiloh dragged himself to his room, the thick brown carpet beneath his feet not necessarily helping. As he reached his room, his arms suddenly latched out, opening the dresser drawer, grabbing his suitcase, snatching clothes here and there. Some were scattered on the floor from this morning when he was pondering over what to wear to his graduation. Odd how his graduation was the last place he felt a part of this small town. 

                “What are you doing?” his mother screeched, eyes as big as saucers. She came to his bedroom door with a moist washcloth in hand, only to find that her son was now obviously packing to leave. But where?

                “I gotta get out of here,” Shiloh replied in a rushed voice, frantically peering around his room to check if he had missed anything. He nodded to himself in assurance before pushing past his mother towards the bathroom in order to retrieve his toothbrush and deodorant.

                “Shiloh this is crazy! Why are you doing this?”

                Shiloh could hear the floor creaking as his mother caught up to him. Everything he needed was in the suitcase now. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as his hand checked his back pocket. Good. His wallet was still there.

                “I don’t want to stay here anymore.”

                He meant to match his exasperated tone from earlier, but was surprised when it came out more like a sigh. His reflection in the mirror was horrible. Definitely had a little bit too much to drink today. Definitely didn’t need to be here. The thought of sitting in court as his parents tried to politely pick their way through divorce made the slight taste of vomit reach his lips once more.

                “And where exactly do you think you’ll go?”

                Shiloh was now in the living room. Of course his father hadn’t moved, but he wasn’t exactly looking as confident as he had a few minutes ago, either. Shiloh’s mind went blank. His mother, father, him. They looked like a family. They functioned as a family. But deep inside Shiloh already knew that before today his family was already falling apart. There were already so many reasons.

                It could have been because his mom cheated those years ago with his dad’s boss. It could have been because he kept continuously fighting with them both, slowly breaking the ties with them. It could have been because his sister Jamie dropped out of college, the one both of his parents had worked so hard to pay tuition for. It really could have been any of those things.

                “I’ll move in with Jamie.”

                “Jamie?” his mother scoffed, wiping a sweaty palm across her forehead. His father looked up, a hint of surprise in his eyes. Jamie was a touchy subject. After she had quit college to move in with her rock star of a boyfriend, his parents didn’t really know what to expect of her. Shiloh nodded at the both of them.

                “But… Jamie? She – She’s living with that rock star guy. And the other one – the one who’s suicidal!”

                Shiloh wasn’t in the mood to argue. Although he did have to agree with his mother on the odd choice of roommates his sister chose.

                “I don’t care. Anywhere’s better than here.”

                His mother cracked a small smile.

                “Shiloh. You don’t have a car. And what about college?”

                “I’ll go to college after the summer’s over. And I’ll take the bus.”

                For once Shiloh loved the shocked look on his mother’s face. Serves her right for making him just as shocked minutes before. He gave a wink before slinging the suitcase around his shoulders, the door now being the only thing to separate him from the unknown.

                “Good luck, son,” he heard his father say before he walked into the cool night air.

                “Where’s Elijah?” asked Salem as he leaned back in his computer chair, two pairs of eyes turning from him to each other.

                “Told you he wouldn’t come unless we mentioned Elijah,” whispered one of them.

                “I can hear you , you know. Hearing aid not working?” smirked Salem. The pair of eyes widened and turned to him again. They had been caught. One of them had an uneasy look on their face.

                Salem was feeling as uncomfortable as the agent looked. All he could think was that it was a good thing he was at least surrounded by people. This morning he was – for no reason – the happiest he had ever been in a long time. And with a rise like that also came a fall. One he as preparing for. Once again he regretted never taking the lithium he had gotten from the doctor’s office months ago.

                ‘But it makes music writing so much better,’ he had told himself several times. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who felt this. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here in a music studio, talking to agents who specifically wanted to share great news with the band. Or in case, him. And why wasn’t Elijah here? Elijah was lead, he was only the back-up.

                “See kid, we want YOU,” one of the agents pronounced clearly. Not the one who looked uneasy. In fact, he seemed to be a little intimidated by Salem, as most people often were unless they were fifteen and female.

                “What do you mean?” Salem asked. He was in a band. A very popular band. Where could the agents be possibly going with this?

                “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Mr. Slater, but your concert numbers have grown substantially. Ever wonder why?”

                “No?”

                “Well,” began the agent, “think about it. You joined Elijah’s band only a year ago. You both wrote new songs. Three of your songs were put into the new album. Those three songs are chart-toppers now. So it doesn’t come as a surprise that the concert numbers have grown, because obviously it isn’t because of Elijah… it’s because of YOU.”

                Salem sat there, the agents staring at him like a piece of candy. His mind tried to wrap around what they had just told him. They want HIM. Not Eli. That’s why he wasn’t here. Why he was here by himself. The agents wanted to break up the band. Or better yet, start a new band with him in the lead. Pressure flooded into his head as if a dam had been broken through. Tonight was not going to be good. He already knew. And he didn’t want to be here, not with these people. Not with these sick, sly people.

                “No, absolutely not.”

                Salem slammed the computer chair to the floor, shoving himself between the two agents as they looked onward, the question “why” quivering on their lips. It was too late however, Salem was clearly never coming back.

                By the time Salem made it back to the apartment, his head was spinning. Tears began slipping down his cheeks and all he wanted to do was to crawl in a corner, perhaps on his bed and just stay there forever. Maybe if Jamie and Eli spontaneously decided to go on a vacation for the weekend, he could get away with starving to death. But what a painful way to go.

                ‘No!’ he mentally told himself. Dying wasn’t going to solve anything. But the pain had come so quickly, so much different than what he had felt this morning, when he felt like he could do anything. Quickly he scrambled to the kitchen. Tea? Coffee? Something had to help. His tears were now making their own miniature flood on the linoleum floor, causing him to slide a little.

                Then he saw it. A bottle of vodka sitting out the open – probably Eli’s. It was a bad idea and he knew it, but he reached for the bottle anyways and began to chug. The sting of the alcohol pouring down his throat paralleled the pins and needles that scoured his mind. He went from sober to buzzed to flat out drunk in just moments. His feet began to slip, but he was too slow to react as the bottle dropped from his hands, shattering completely all over the floor.

                Salem looked on at the mess he had just made. The shards of glass reflected the moon so perfectly and it contrasted well with the flow of crimson extending from his foot, which he realized was now stinging from being cut open from the glass.

                Clumsily, he picked up the shard, but realized he couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t feel his fingers, really, much less the upper half of his body in general. He shakily smacked his hands, his face, his arms, and couldn’t feel a thing. The last thing he remembered was holding the glass to his left forearm, before his world turned black. He was sure he was sleeping, and dreamt that his arms were covered in crimson, a faint scream heard in the distance.

END OF INTRODUCTION.

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