SHANE OBSCURE CHAPTER 28

 

PART THREE:  

RAIN, & GREGORY DEN 

 

28. 

 

   The entire week after the holidays it rained. The clouds, which had begun to roll over the day of the carnival, had prevailed. The rain had been practically constant since. It was like a plague without the frogs. 

 

  Ed had left town for the week on a ski trip with his parents, so there was no shelter for us at the Cavern. We were all chess pieces scattered on the floor. 

 

  Nothing was mentioned about Marc’s arrival in the backyard. It was if nothing had happened. Actually, nothing had happened, really, but I could tell Sean was growing more and more discontent about the whole hanging-out situation. 

 

  Because of the rain, and that we couldn’t go to the Cavern, and since Sean wasn’t drinking much, Marc suggested – while we were hanging at his place – that we go out and buy a board game. So we went to a discount store, Sean, myself, Sammi, Marc and David. Sean was quietly disassociated while David, Sammi and Marc searched around jovially for a “perfect” game.   

 

   When they found one that Sammi had suggested, Sean paid and we headed back to Marc’s. The rain fell in heavy torrents now, that kind of irritating and incessant rain you don’t even want to drive through. 

  

   Back at Marc’s we had a small table set up in-between the long couch and the kitchen. The lights in the house were dim and there was a muggy scent inside – the mom usually had the back door pen. The front door was open too but they had a think iron screen door, practically a door in itself. Outside Rain pounded on the tin rain-gutter and sounded like a thousand strong mice beating on tin bongo drums – or as if there were natives approaching with spears, shields and a cooking pot. 

 

   Every once in a while Sean, Marc and I would step outside for a smoke. We’d stand out there lined up with our backs to the door, and beneath a slight cover of roof above we stayed dry and exhaled the smoke into the shimmering curtain of rain that was literally right in front of our faces. 

  

  It would be quiet out there save for the banging on the rain gutter; but after a while this was like silence in itself; it felt as if noting existed except for us. No thunder bellowed, nor lightning flashed. The sky was covered with a thick sheet of cloud. 

 

  Inside playing the board game David seemed the most content. He’d never played this particular one before but he was naturally good at it as he was with the video games. Marc was having quite a time as well. He was bad at first but slowly he’d edge up to David. He liked being near his friends, and being close to Sammi. He never raised his voice at her, and spoke to her nicely.  

 

   But Sean was like a ghost of himself. He wasn’t in any surface misery, but inside, I could tell, he felt a formidable sense of being trapped. The rain was his punishment; this was his purgatory… 

 

  When we weren’t at the table playing the game we’d watch TV. Every once in a while Sean would move back the drapes, to peak outside, probably for hope that the sun had returned but to no avail – the blanketed sky still wept wearily. Once, during the afternoon, it had stopped raining, and a piece of sunshine rumored one corner of the sky, but not for long. And all the while the rain gutter still banged like a tin drum whether the rain were active or not. 

 

  Days and nights, and nights and days of rainy hours went by, mostly spent at Marc’s. Sean kept coming over because I don’t think he had anything else going. David would always be there before him. David seemed to like this stormy recess. 

 

  “Rain is great,” David had said as they faced the television. 

  “Why?” Sean asked, perturbed. 

  “Because you have a reason to do nothing.” 

 

  Sean had to agree there. But after a few days the board game got old, and Marc got antsy. Be began to argue with Sammi. He’d argue with her about real silly stuff like before. 

  

  There was so much rain I began to think we’d have to build an ark after a while. I think had the sky had a lot of making up to do being it was southern California and usually quite sunny.  

 

  It began to get real boring at Marcs. Certain boredom has a sluggish way of killing you inside… 

  I had a nagging urge to dance backwards. 

   

   One early night Sean went outside the condo to smoke. The rest of them were inside, at the table. The board game was out of remission and David was back as King of the Table. I went to join Sean outside. 

  He stood, leaned back against the garage door, staring up at the darkened sky. Evening approached, somewhere behind all those heavy clouds.   

  “I had a real fucked up dream last night,” Sean said. 

  “What about?” 

  “I’ve been dreaming a lot this week, real vague ones. But the one last night was one of those dreams that aren’t hindered by that dream haze. It was too realistic or something. Clear, vivid. I mean it wasn’t realistic, but it seemed, you know, tangible or something. 

  “I used to have this little black dog, Mandy. One of my sister’s friends found it at a stable when it was a puppy. It was a real cute little dog. It used to trot, like a horse, because it came from the stables. Anyway, in the dream, I had this insight that there was an alligator in the backyard. And I got scared, you know, because Mandy was back there. So I rushed into the dining room, and I opened the sliding door, and then there was this moment… of nothing. Then, all of a sudden, this alligator appeared, coming towards me, trying to get into the house. I had a golf club with me, one of my dad’s lying around, and I started smacking the alligator, as hard as I could, right on the head. But I still wasn’t hitting that thing as hard as I should have. Something was holding me back. So I broke out of it and really started pounding. Harder and harder. And it was working. I was beginning to really hurt the alligator. Its eyes were closed, squinting, like it was in deep pain, you know – like I was killing it successfully. Then after a flash – you know how fast things go in a dream - I looked down at the creature - while I was still smacking it - and it had turned into my little dog. It didn’t change before my eyes or anything - it just WAS Mandy.  

  “And I got this sudden insight - that the whole time I’d been hitting the thing it was her, the dog and not the alligator. She started whining through her nose. Actually, it was more of a whimper. Her eyes were closed tight. She was standing up. Her legs were weakening… 

  “And the dream ended there.” 

  Sean exhaled the smoke into the silver curtain of rain. 

  “And here I am,” he said. “For another round of this little board game heaven bullshit. Little condo on the prairie – Jesus, I’m bored…” 

  We both stood silent. Everything outside was quiet. The rain gutter drum noise was as invisible as cricket chatter in the woods. 

  Sean sighed. He flicked his cigarette forward to a quick death on the soaked pavement. “I wish I’d wake up already from this… this… 

  “This life without description.” 

 

   The next day the sun broke through the captive womb of clouds, spreading daylight upon the rain soaked streets and avenues of our suburban town. 

   And on that first rainless day Sean didn’t show up to Marc’s. It was a Friday night, and it was planned on the still-stormy Thursday that a “finals” competition of the board game was to take place. Marc said there’d be other people over, old friends of his, and even friends of Sammi would come over. And also, music and drinks… 

   “Punch and Marky-Mark,” Sean had quipped.  

 

  So thus Marc Sandoval waited for Sean Dusk to arrive. Only of Sammi’s friends, and none of his so-called old friends came over - just David and myself. Marc didn’t seem content, like he had been that week. He was partially let down that nobody had showed up, but even more so, I gathered, that Sean wasn’t around. Sean made it fun for Marc to having nothing to do. Sean decorated boredom for Marc. He could have fun with him whether you made it or not. Marc felt had lost all counts. 

  

  Misery loves company, and Marc Sandoval was an entrepreneur. But the funny thing was, he had company. He had us. But he might as well have been alone. He needed Sean Dusk. 

  

  He seemed to miss to rain, too. It was too quiet for him. Even the rain gutter had ceased. It was like an annoying friend one grew used to suddenly having GONE. 

 

  This was the time near the end of the Marc and Sean era – which had petered out considerably since those gone days a year past. And thus began the short and somewhat vapidly, bizarre and adventuresome era of Gregory Den.