Teenage Dirtbag - Ch.1

 

* Play this at the beginning: http://youtu.be/rjWKsizCmfc

Shiloh woke to the crack of morning light shining through the window of the bus that his head was currently lying against. Amidst the courage that had easily coursed into his mind the night before were two new feelings – shock and fear. Shock because of the realization that he had actually fallen asleep, and fear because all that lay before him was the unknown. Cool wisps of air whistled their way through the bus, and suddenly the world had blown up to become very large. A darkening thought emerged. The bus could break down, and Shiloh would be truly by himself. Neither to the place from which he escaped nor to the place in which he wanted to be.

                Hope. Once again a new thought had entered.

                Salem could feel the cold stares on him each morning as he came out of his bedroom, each day as he settled into the back of some car with escorts on either side of him as he went to his therapy appointments, each night as he washed up to go to bed. Never had he been so drawn into himself, so quiet because each word spoken would bring an onslaught of judgment. It was embarrassing, really. He never felt that he could be so humble until the day that his sister Frances looked up to him, straight into his eyes as she trapped him against the counter in his kitchen.

                “I think it’s time you took this, your prescription.”

                “I know…,”

                “No. Salem you were supposed to have this refilled at least three times now. It doesn’t even look like you tried.”

                “They make me cloudy. I can’t write music. It’s like, I might as well not even exist.”

                He knew Frances took it wrong. Her stern brow tugged lower, forming lines across her forehead that didn’t need to be there so soon. How could he explain to her how hollow he felt the first time the pill of lithium slipped past his tongue? Could he conjure the imagery of what it felt like to be floating – to be similar to a faceless paper doll flying away in the wind? Could he expect her to understand that he would rather take the pain, happiness, or simply the raw emotion over any effects of medicine? The look that Frances gave him told him that he could say anything he wanted, but it wouldn’t have made an ounce of difference.

                “You’re taking them Salem. It’s bad enough that you didn’t take them in the first place, and now I have to babysit you because of what you did yesterday.”

                Salem saw her eyes flicker, just slightly, before she pulled a black sleeve to her eye for a second as a signal that she too needed space just as much as he did in that moment. Salem tugged at his own sleeves, wincing when his wrist collided with the bandage covering something freshly stitched.

                “I can watch myself, you know. I am an adult.” Salem and Frances walked up to his apartment building. Neither of them had been there in almost a week. Frances frowned.

                “Not now. Look, you’re back at your apartment. It’s just that Jamie is going to be there all the time now. I’ll only be gone for the weekend. You have my number. Call me if you need anything.”

                Salem thought he waited quite patiently until his sister handed over his old apartment keys. That was until he felt the cold metal and the familiar key chains, in which he shamelessly stuck his tongue out at her. He always thought it comical that he could still act childish, even though he was nearly two feet taller than his older sister. Consequently, she rolled her eyes and walked back to her humming car, not even chancing to give a glance back. Salem smiled.

                “Love you, sis!”

                Once inside, Salem knew the true adventure would begin. Sitting on the living room couch were Jamie and Elijah, watching some movie the latter probably thought was appropriate instead of going to a fancy diner downtown. Salem tried not to notice as Elijah made eye contact with him and abruptly stood up. His face still burned with humiliation anyways.

                “I um – I gotta go. Have to do some band stuff.” Elijah broke his gaze from Salem before dodging the living room furniture to get to the front door. He wasn’t prepared for the onslaught from the two now standing in the room before him, both curious for different reasons.

                “Band stuff? I want to go-,”

                “Eli, you told me you wanted to watch this movie!”

                A murderous rage scorched Elijah’s brain. Just how daft could Salem be? He remembered the conversation a week ago that Salem clearly wasn’t invited to – the one where his now former record label told him that this would be the last summer he would be supported. The meeting where it was brought up that Salem, however, would be supported. Salem alone. With a brand new band that he himself would help create.

                How would he ever be able to tell Jamie? His fame was supposed to be the answer to their future, after all his fame alone was the reason why they had met. And now both Jamie and Salem were in his apartment, and the pressure was building as he could feel the tension holding his big secret together slowly start to break.

                He had to get out of there. And that time was right now.

                “No, you can’t come Salem. And Jamie I promise I’ll watch the movie if you’d like. I just um – got motivation to write a new song. I gotta do this by myself, guys.”

                Five minutes had passed since the door had been slammed shut by a retreating Elijah. By now Salem had made it to his old bedroom, letting the silence wash over. Jamie still hadn’t resumed the movie, and he could hear that she hadn’t exactly moved from the couch either. Both were paralyzed by the need for a moment to think, when they heard a loud knock on the door. A few seconds and then a gasp from Jamie sent Salem nearly sailing from his room.

                “Shiloh! What – how – why are you here? You look fantastic! Look at those muscles! Urgh!” Jamie flexed her arms in attempt to compare and a soft, tired laugh came from Shiloh. It had been years since they had seen each other. They could have stood there for hours if one less person had been standing in the house.

                “Jamie, who the heck is this?” Two pairs of eyes locked on Salem, as though they had forgotten that he had been less than three feet away from them.

                “This is my brother, Shiloh. The one who got the full-ride sports scholarship to that one college. You just graduated high school, didn’t you Shiloh?”

                A slightly shy nod was given from Shiloh to Jamie as Salem watched the awkward exchange. Something itched him about the introduction to this new person in his house. It was only as he gazed upon the teenager’s football  sweater and perfectly set hair that he was able to come up with the perfect label.

                “Freakin’ Jesus of Suburbia.”

                Jamie and Shiloh each gave identical faces of disappointment and shock. Salem knew conflict was coming but at the same time he didn’t necessarily care. He loved the hitch of attention, good or bad. He basically stayed put with a small smile, awaiting the rest of their reaction.

                “And you’re the suicidal one my mom always talks about.”

                A gasp from Jamie and a wince from Salem. Something bitter built in his mouth. A truth he didn’t want, but one he couldn’t escape. In one sentence this new being had stabbed a sword into his side, had made him weaker from the little foundation he had pretended to build since he came back.

                “My room’s through there, Shiloh. You can put your stuff in there.”

                Salem didn’t really notice as Shiloh shuffled past him and Jamie. He really didn’t notice that Jamie had said anything at all except for now as Shiloh flicked the lights on in her room and slammed the door shut.

                “Salem!” exclaimed Jamie. He hadn’t noticed before, but she looked more exhausted than usual. Her eyes dug into him, reminding him of his sister.

                “Salem,” she repeated, whispering, “I don’t know why he’s here. But I can’t – I can’t deal with this right now. Just get along or something, because this whole Eli thing -,”

                “What whole Eli thing?”

                Jamie’s brow furrowed as if she was holding back tears. Salem knew this look well, but not on her. She still wouldn’t answer.

                “Jame, what Eli thing? Is it because of the interview I had last week -,”

                “No! No. He’s been doing this for months. He keeps leaving at unexpected times.”

                Looking at her was hard. Salem had never seen Jamie so low on life than in that moment. But he had to say what was on his mind. He never held back his thoughts.

                “Do you think he’s cheating on you?”

                The tears came pouring down, and it was enough of an answer for Salem to accept. Meanwhile, the door to Jamie’s room opened. Apparently, conversation had breached its whisper, and Shiloh was leaning on the frame, face full of shared empathy and anger.

                “Do you want to know for sure?” Jamie slowly looked up at Salem and reluctantly nodded.

                “There’s only one way to find out.”

                Everything felt odd and out of place. Jamie was standing in the club lobby, hoping that no one would see through her disguise. It baffled her how Salem knew exactly how to make her look. She didn’t even look like herself when she gave one last glance in the mirror before bolting to her taxi.

                She hoped her wig was settled correctly in place. The black was a major contrast to her natural blonde hair, and she felt uncomfortable as articles of clothing tugged in weird places, and in the corner of her eye she could catch the movement of her fake eyelashes. How was she supposed to pull this off? If she was correct, Eli would be in there, and if she didn’t play her part then it would be entirely too easy for him to see right through her. The whole situation was weird, but she knew she had to find out about Eli’s “disappearing act.”

                What she didn’t expect were the number of eyes on her as she ascended the stairway up to the main floor. But then again, she was hoping she would be wrong and expect Eli to be missing from this scene entirely. However, that couldn’t have been the case. She swore she could feel herself burning under the glow of the lights as she saw her beloved nibbling some other blonde’s lip in the far corner. He was too easy to spot, she thought. As if he hadn’t expected her to go searching for him at all.

                She was there, however, and no one recognized her. It was then that she was thankful for the money occupying her purse as she went up to the bar to order some drinks. They weren’t necessarily her favorite, but they would give her what she most desired – a false sense of hope and a delay to the lasting memory she would have tonight.

                He could spot her from across the room. Even with the flimsy girl on his lap that smelt of cheap perfume and maraschino cherries, nothing was a match for the other that caught his eye. She was drinking some hefty drinks for a girl so tiny, and everything about her screamed rebel from her black hair, to her tight clothes, to the way she pretended as though none of the men standing around her weren’t drinking her up like a pina colada.

                He had to have her, he thought. And lucky for him, she was waltzing right up to him. A pang of guilt always struck up when he approached women this way. Women who weren’t Jamie. But he was hurting, he thought. And this was his only way to stay alive.

                “Who are you?” he asked, slightly tipsy, blonde girl forgotten as he slowly rose.

                “Elaine,” her voice answered, flowing like honey.

                What he didn’t know was that he would never remember her name. But he would remember her face, and the way she danced with him all night long with a glare that made him feel instantly challenged. To him she was whatshername, and every night from now he would wish longingly to see her again.

                The weird suicidal kid, or Salem, had left a half hour ago without saying so much other than he was bored and needed to be somewhere else. Shiloh was lost as to what his role was in an empty house, one shared by three very different people. He felt as though he had just run into the tip of the iceburg, and that the rest hiding underneath was a puzzle, one he wasn’t sure he wanted to solve just quite yet. Eli was obviously upset about something that Salem had something to do with. Salem is chronically crazy, and Jamie just used Salem’s advice to hunt down her supposedly cheating significant other.

                So what exactly did Shiloh have to do with all of this? He was sure to find out soon.

                Soon was about now, as Shiloh turned on his cellphone which had been off for a couple of hours when a new voicemail popped up on his screen. Apparently Jamie had left it shortly after she left.

                “Oh hey. Shiloh, please don’t leave Salem alone. We’re not supposed to leave him by himself much, especially after his accident. And especially if he goes to the bar. He usually likes to go to St. Jimmy’s down the street, because for some reason they serve to under-aged kids. Don’t get any ideas. Thanks, bye.”

                It only took the grab of some household keys before Shiloh took off sprinting down the street, using whatever quarterback skills he had in high school to find St. Jimmy’s, and hope it wasn’t too late.

                The door to St. Jimmy’s opened and immediately Shiloh knew why someone like Salem would like a place like this. The noise was overwhelming, filled with locals who have probably graced the scene more times than they could count. It was a place that Salem could easily blend in, a place he could be protected because everyone probably knew him by now. And sure enough, sitting on a bar stool was none other than Salem himself, downing another shot.

                “Hey Salem,” Shiloh half-yelled, making his voice known above the uproar of background noise. Salem turned a sly glance at Shiloh, knowing instantly that Jamie sent her beloved little brother after him. It was exactly as Frances had explained earlier that night. Someone would always be watching him.

                “That’s right, I’m Salem,” he said as he attempted to stand, “I’m the suicidal good-for-nothing your mother talked about. Isn’t that right, Jesus of Suburbia?”

                “Salem, you shouldn’t be here. Jamie said-,”

                “You think I’m in denial, that’s what. I just want to have some fun, and I always pay for it in the end. Well not tonight. Not for Salem Slater! Now shut up Jesus of Suburbia. Welcome to the club – your first drink’s on me.”

                “Really, he’s not supposed to be here,” Shiloh told the bartender as he grabbed Salem’s wrist in attempt to keep him standing.

                “Ouch!” Salem yelled. Immediately everyone’s celebratory attitude shifted to one of momentary hostility towards Shiloh as Salem sharply pulled his arms away. The loud environment could now easily have heard a needle pin drop, and now Shiloh understood. Salem was a favorite. Here, he belonged.

                “Dude, we need to go. Now,” whispered Shiloh. He attempted to guide Salem to the door before the bartender pulled his arm.

                “He paid for these earlier. Don’t get caught.”

                “Thanks,” replied Shiloh. He now was supporting Salem with arm and carrying a six-pack with the other. He could only imagine the look on Jamie’s face if she found him coming back to her apartment this way. And then the picture of his parents faces overshadowed and sent a chill. No. That would be much worse.

                “Those are yours. You probably saved my life anyway,” mumbled Salem as they crossed through the apartment foyer. By now Salem had vomited enough times to think clearer than about ten minutes ago, and Shiloh was just appreciative to have his arm free again. He grabbed one of the drinks and nodded towards Salem in an unspoken word of thanks. It only seemed logical that he had to somehow hide Salem’s evidence. One down, five more to go.

                Midnight had found the two in Salem’s room, chatting and slightly drunk. As promised, Shiloh had hidden the evidence, and it was one of those odd moments when men open up about thoughts they usually have a habit of hiding – when they’re sober.

                “I don’t consider myself ever having a dad. I mean, I had a dad, but he wasn’t a very good one. I have a stepdad, but I met him when it was too late. So I just tell people about my mom. But I don’t know her that well, either.”

                “I have a mom and dad,” piped Shiloh. He had been staring at one of Salem’s posters for a couple of minutes now. In little moments, Salem would mistake Shiloh for someone he once knew. All of the similarities were there, except for a few key personality differences. His subconscious told him to stay away from that topic, however, as it was dangerous. He couldn’t say anything dangerous to this new acquaintance of his.

                “Are they happy? Are they like TV parents that everyone wishes for?” asked Salem.

                “They are – I mean, they were. They’ve been married forever. And… and…,” Shiloh’s eyes were suddenly filled with tears, something Salem hadn’t expected from the reserved and stoic jock that had entered his apartment before. The crying captivated him, however. Déjà vu entered his mind and he couldn’t help but think of it over and over again. A pain he had tried so hard to forget.

                “And what?”
                A pause.

                “And, it’s all of my fault. They were happy, and I think I ruined them. They’re getting divorced, so I had to leave. It’s like they weren’t my parents anymore.”

                Salem watched as huge sobs racked through Shiloh’s body. Could he reach out? Was it safe? He had reached out before and it ended in tragedy. But here was this boy – this helpless boy sitting in his room with despair clearly written on his face. Without another second of thought, he reached out to this new person, wrapping him in his arms.

                Immediately the pain came shooting back, but so did relief. Shiloh’s cries began to diminish.

                “I’ve never experienced what you’re going through. But I do know pain. Trust me, I do.”

END OF CH.1