SHANE OBSCURE CHAPTER 3

I didn't see Marc too much that week. A few times I did and we didn't talk much and get this, Ed was being real talkative. He sat up and even drank two beers watching the game. Marc stood behind us, but not for too long, and then Cudd came out from his room. Then both him and Marc went back into the room and listened to music. It was turned up real loud and the door was open. Cudd apparently had quite a sound system. It seemed he had a lot of “toys”. Ed made some wry comment to me about the music. It wasn't anything I'd ever listened to. There was a whole lot of shit back then I didn't care for. Cudd’s music, in the category of all bad music, was par for the course…

     For that week and most of the next I only caught glimpses of Marc around Ed's house. But I'd heard that Ed's friend, whom Marc had mentioned two nights before, had been around. I’d forgotten his name. It was one of those names that wasn’t easily remembered…       

     One time when I went to the house, Ed’s mysterious friend had just left. There were three empty beer cans on the table. I asked Ed if Marc had been over. He said that his friend Sean had been hanging out that day. I slightly recalled this being the same guy Marc had brought up. Still I wasn’t too sure.

     Marc came over that same night and instead of standing behind the couch this time he actually sat down with us. Ed didn't mind. Even Cudd came out for a little while. Things felt pretty relaxed and contented that night; I wasn’t bored. And another thing, Marc had brought over two 40-ounce beers.

     Later on Sean was discussed. Marc asked Ed whose beer cans those had belonged to. The empties still sat on the table. Ed answered Marc and then Cudd asked Ed, "So how is Dusk?" I learned then that Sean's full name was Sean Dusk. Ed said he was doing okay and Marc didn't say a thing – in fact, he kept quiet while they discussed him. Then he began clearing his throat; he was breaking out of something; in no time he was bagging on Cudd. Cudd went back to his room, with kind of an embarrassed, miffed grin, and turned his music on.

     It was really fun that night. Thing's were pretty easygoing and loose for that little while right before Ed had mentioned Sean Dusk.

     I was feeling pretty good at that time because I finally had someplace to go – someplace interesting, that is – and spontaneous. Before I’d call Ed first. Now it was getting easier and I could come over whenever I pleased. That was because Marc would usually be there. I'd see his old (actually his Uncle's) shitty white car parked out front; that was the only invitation I needed. He had formed the trail already, and all I needed to do was follow…

     It went this way about a month. One of the nights, when I arrived Marc was yelling at his girlfriend on Ed’s phone in the living room… but first…

     I don't think I've explained the layout of the house. I think I should go into that before I continue…

     The house was gray. After a while we named the place the “Gray Cavern”. It was gray all over, the walls, the furniture – everything. When you first walk in there's this real small living room. It had a fireplace, a table, and a love seat. I don't recall anybody ever really being in this room too much – it led to the family room, where the couches and the TV hid on the other side of a large kitchen counter/bar area, where the kitchen was a sliver space against a sidewall. Back to that living room: When you first walk in, if you turn left instead of right, you're heading down a hallway, where on the first left is a rest room, then further down (on the same side) is Sissy's bedroom, and across, on the right side, is Cudd's. Cudd had the smallest room in the house. The funny thing is that he was in his room the most out of all of them. And Ed's room, which I mentioned earlier, which used to be a study, was next to Cudd's right in the center of the house, and when the doors were opened, you could see the television inside the family room, where everyone gathered. 
     Ed Marshall, by the way, was immaculate, his bedroom spotless. And now that I think about it, his room had color. It wasn't gray like everything else. A lonely, contented king sized bed, with a royal blue bedspread, the bed which took an abundance of the space, lay in the pivot of his room. There were pillows with bright red cases, framed posters on the wall (one of Clint Eastwood, one of the Space Shuttle, one of Jimmy Page, one of Michael Jordan), a standard desk, and some other things I'll get to later. But boy, was he meticulous. Outside his bedroom in the family room was a sliding door, which I think might've been an add-on by Sissy's father – this room harbored a dusty old Ping-Pong table…

     So anyhow, while Marc was having it out with his girlfriend, Ed was sitting on the couch watching TV. The hockey season was over; he was watching News I think, wearing shorts and no shirt (it was always too damn humid in that place), and he didn't seem distracted from Marc’s racket. I walked in and sat on the opposing couch.

     "Hey Ed, what's going on?" I said, keeping my voice down.

     So did Ed. "Not much," he practically whispered.

     Marc went on this way on the phone, for about five minutes longer. During the call Cudd had walked in, his hair mussed up – he looked like he'd been napping. He came into the kitchen, fixed himself a glass of milk, and as quietly as he appeared returned to his bedroom.

     When Marc hung up the phone it was obviously after he'd been listening to his girlfriend “side” of things, for he hadn't said anything for about a minute beforehand. He glanced at me and said:

     "Bitches. Stay away from all bitches. They exist only to make our lives pure hell."

     “But since most guys are demons,” I said, “I guess that’s why they make us feel right at home.”

     Marc nodded blandly, pursed his lips. Then he said: "Hey. There's a present for you in the fridge… Rhymes with ‘fear’… and hurray up, I’m pretty far ahead already…"

      On another night Marc had been watching TV, drinking another 40, when I came over. Ed wasn't around. Cudd was napping in his bedroom. Outside the sun was aging. The night drew close, the day its curtain. Marc had yet another predictable gift for me in the fridge. And an idea…

     We sat up on the roof, the only level area up there, on two patio chairs, smoking, drinking our beers. We got up fairly easy. It was kind of funny because we had to climb up near Cudd's bedroom window and keep real quiet doing it. He was probably asleep. That guy could sleep all day. Marc had balanced himself where the roof slanted up; I handed up the chairs. My turn climbing up I nearly fell back. Marc's a fat guy but he's pretty agile. I’d always been clumsy as hell.

     We were all set up on the roof, sitting on the chairs and facing the opposite direction of the racetrack which, because of the myriad of tall suburban trees, even from the roof, looking behind us, we could only make out the glow from the track lights. Rows upon rows of houses spread before us. It was really nice up there, yet…

     "We're missing something," Marc said in a slightly whiny tone.

     "Yeah,” I replied, somewhat broken from the spell. “What're we missing?"

     "A cigarette."

     He was right. “You’re right,” I said.

     We sat quiet again. But this time we were quiet because we weren't speaking.

     "We need a cigarette," Marc said, putting emphasis on NEED.

     "They're all the way down in the house,” I sighed. “What can we do about it now?”

     Marc sighed, somewhat impatiently.

     "Shane. C'mon. We NEED a cigarette with our beers. It’s how things are. How about going down for the pack. I left them next to the telephone…”

     "Aw… Fuck!"

     So I climbed back down. Again, nearly killing myself. It was slippery along the arc. You could tell the roof hadn't been worked on for a while.

     I went into the family room, and the phone rang. And rang and rang. After four rings the answering machine turned on. I was looking around for the smokes that weren’t were he said and, for some reason, I was curious to see who was on the calling. I don't know why, I just was. The machine went through Ed's voice, and then the beep sounded. Then the CLICK; no message was left. 

    I found the cigarettes on the Ed-couch. There were two left. I made sure to find a lighter. I wasn't gonna have to climb back down again. It was getting dark outside quick. I wanted a smoke during sunset. I knew Marc would too.

     I found some matches in a kitchen drawer and I put them inside the cellophane of the cigarette pack. I put the pack in a front pocket and went back outside.

     When I got back up Marc had a bored expression. It was like he'd been waiting for a long commercial break to end, and now the show meant nothing. 

     We both had a smoke to the pale noise of the suburb below us, with all the houses, like sad little shoeboxes, and enjoyed the ribbon clouds that stroked softly, in one lazy corner, the dusty, burnt-red horizon.

     It took a seven-minute cigarette till the horizon began to fade. We dropped the butts into our empty bottles. Right then the garage door began to open. Ed drove up in his slick black Trans Am. It was a nice car – it didn't fit Ed but he had it. I barely caught a glimpse of his expression as he drove up from the driveway into the garage. He sort of smiled but it was a smile put-on. Marc caustically waved at him.

     Ed, by the look on his face, and despite that forced grin, didn't seem all that happy to see us…

     Pretty soon, as the drinking became mainstay, Marc discovered a new hobby.

     Ed had a few guitars. He didn't play them much, and if he did, when he did, it was never too loudly. This one night Ed was in his room when Marc and I were watching TV. Marc got up and walked back and stood at the border of the bedroom. Ed had one of his guitars on a stand and I guess he'd just polished it because Marc said something about how nice it looked polished. Ed said he played it less than the other guitar, which was in a case beneath the bed. Marc asked if he could look at that one, the one beneath the bed. Ed said “Sure."

     I watched from the couch. Ed bent down and reached under and pulled out the case from beneath the bed like a slab in a morgue. He opened it up. Marc was down on his knees and Ed grabbed the guitar out and handed it to him. Marc held the guitar, rested on his leg, and strummed it with a finger, sort of feathering it. Then he nodded and handed the guitar to Ed. Ed put it back in the case and Marc said something I couldn’t hear. Ed slid the guitar back beneath the bed. Then Ed said something and both Ed and Marc sat staring at the polished guitar on the stand.

     Marc returned to the family room; Ed closed his bedroom door. He had rude hours at work, and he'd usually hit the sack pretty early. I always made sure Marc and I kept the TV down after he'd turn in.

     I think it was that night, about an hour later, when Sissy came home. I had never met him. And I didn't meet him that night in actuality, I just heard the front door open and close, someone walk down the hall, and then another door, further off, open and close. I knew that it wasn't Cudd, so I figured it must've been Sissy.

     "He keeps vampire hours, that guy," I said to Marc.

     Marc was half awake on the Ed-couch.

     "He's kind of a dick," he said.

     "I've never met him before.”

     "Neither have I.”

     On the TV was an aloof detective having dinner with a beautiful blind lady in a seaside restaurant – a rerun of a 70's detective show called Mannix.

     "Ed's guitars are nice," I replied. Marc propped his head up on a couch pillow and said:

     "I want a guitar of my own someday.”

     And In another minute Marc was asleep. I left him that way. Yet another night had ended.