Jaden Baker (48 page)

“Yes,” Jaden said, putting his book down again and sitting up. “I want that. The electric bills and the car payments.”

“Going out to the bar and drinking with the guys,” Seth continued. “Slipping five dollar bills into women’s thongs. Going home to a wife and two point two children. Soccer games and minivans. Subdivisions and lawnmowers. Jaden Baker, the house husband. Yes, you’re right. It’s so clear in my mind.”

Jaden glared at Seth, but he was right. Sneaking back into society would be a tricky game. He’d lived on the edge of it most of his life. Trying to fit in was a sink or swim situation, no time for practice.

“How will you explain yourself?” Seth said. “Who could possibly understand you?”

“So what, I live here for the rest of my life? Just me, you and the cat? Work lifting boxes until I die naturally? I’ll drop dead in here and no one will discover my body. Is that what you want?”

Cat stalked off as Jaden stood.

“No,” Seth said. “It’s what you want.”

“I don’t want that,” Jaden said, his body shaking. “You know that’s not what I want. I went out and found someone who could help me get a new identity so I can be with everyone else.”

“But you hate everyone else, you don’t like being near them.” Seth stood to face Jaden eye to eye. “You never have.”

Jaden scoffed. “That’s not true.”

“It is,” Seth said, hands on his hips. “I’m not trying to be argumentative. This is big deal. Think before you leap. There’s nothing shameful about what you’re doing. You have your books and your hobbies. Look how far you’ve come and consider how much farther you can go. You have no ties. Identity is a concept anyway, you can fabricate one without a fake paper trail. Explore the world if you want. You’re a survivor, always have been. Stop hiding and do something with your life.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do.”

“No, that’s what you
think
you’re trying to do. You don’t want to be like everyone else because you’re not.”

Jaden picked up his book and walked to his bed, throwing himself on it. Cat joined him, curling at the foot, preening.

He hated it when Seth was right, which was usually all the time. People made him uncomfortable, just being in the same building with them was a miserable and lonely experience. Either he wanted to join them, laughing along to jokes or complaining about politics, or he wanted to be far away in self-imposed isolation. People were curious, and as soon as you joined a group of them and had anything in common, they wanted to know more about you. If they didn’t want to know about you, then what was the point in being there?

He looked down at the book irony had put in his hands. Dalton and Joseph had created their own monster: a misshapen human with his nosed pressed on the window, watching the world go by.

Jaden walked to Noble International at six the next morning as the sun was casting long shadows over the pavement. Summer was the most convenient time for him. The early light guided him along his many paths, and the warmth was a nice effect.

“Lots of great things about not having a car. No car payment, no car insurance, no repairs,” Seth said, strolling beside him.

“Don’t have to walk everywhere, easier to transport things, ease of travel, keeping groceries and furniture out of the rain, wind, snow and hail,” Jaden responded.

“There’s an expression for this kind of thing. People say it all the time. ‘Grass is always greener on the other side of the fence.’”

“Funny,” Jaden said, smirking, “because that would mean someone would want to be on my side of the fence. Let me know when you find that idiot and I’ll trade.”

Seth grinned. “Touché.”

It was another long day of loading and unloading. The warehouse supervisor shouted orders from the top of the stairs, and Jaden begrudgingly followed them. Secretly he muttered under his breath about inefficiency and how Jaden’s way would save time and energy, but he reminded himself of his goal here: make money. It was not his job to tell the supervisor to fuck off, no matter how badly he wanted to. What did it matter, anyway, he hardly lifted the crates and boxes, just held on as they floated to their spaces.

To distract himself, he thought about his weekend (Thursday and Friday were the weekend for him), and the chores needing attention, like cleaning the toilet. Oh joy. He also needed to dump the shower water outside, possibly refill the ice in the cooler and shower container, and clean Cat’s litter box. After he took care of everything, he would go to the library and see what new books had been published. A reward for cleaning shit.

Just as he was thinking about building something for Cat (the puzzling was over what), there was an accident. From the sound of it, a bad one.

A screeching yell followed a loud, breaking crash. Jaden set down his work, and raced to the source of the terrible screaming. Edgar, a union laborer, someone Jaden saw only in passing, was pinned to the ground by a heavy crate, clawing at it with his hands, face contorted. In seconds, two other men were there, trying to lift the crate.

“Get it off,” Edgar winced, pulling at his leg.

The crate was easily five hundred pounds, and had been poorly stacked by a forklift operator. Two men could not lift it, nor could three. Not logically. But Jaden wouldn’t let Edgar suffer—he’d always seemed like a decent man.

Jaden grabbed a corner of the crate and lifted it with the two other men, their faces red with the effort of the job, and held it long enough for Edgar to crawl free. When Edgar was out, Jaden set the crate on the ground, trying to appear winded. His two helpers were sweating.

Edgar’s leg was limp and bleeding—he would need immediate care. Every worker in the warehouse, even the forklift operator, encouraged Edgar and told him he was doing great while waiting for the ambulance to arrive. Jaden stood to the side, observing everyone’s behavior. Even people who didn’t know Edgar were supportive.

When the medics asked what happened, Jaden allowed Edgar and the two men (Kelvin and Charlie) who helped lift the crate, to answer. He stayed to the outside, listening.

Edgar was rushed to the hospital, and Jaden knew, but did not say, that his knees were busted, probably permanently. In the excitement that followed, neither Kelvin nor Charlie asked how they had done it, instead they marveled at their strength, chalking it up to adrenaline.

Something like regret occupied the remainder of the day. He did not know Edgar, but there had been something he could have done. Had he not been thinking about his cat, trying to distract himself from the annoying supervisor, he would have known the crate was falling and could have prevented the accident. As a result, every crate in this warehouse, every person and forklift touched his mind. The hyperawareness intensified, preventing him from thinking clearly. It was exhausting. When his shift was over, Jaden went to Mr. Fain’s office to collect his wages for the week.

Mr. Fain handed Jaden an envelope filled with cash. “Go home and rest, blow off some steam. You’ll be in on Saturday?”

Jaden nodded and pocketed the cash.

“Good work, today, Joel. Kelvin and Charlie told me all about it, how the three of you got it off him. It must have weighed four hundred pounds. Impressive lifting!” He looked at Jaden with pride, and to stave off further explanation, Jaden tried a joke.

“I guess we all ate our spinach this morning,” he said.

Mr. Fain smiled, but he did not laugh like Jaden hoped. Seth was right, he sucked at this.

As Jaden changed his boots for running shoes, placing his gloves on top of the boots like always, Kelvin and Charlie came to speak to him, something neither had done before—actually, no one had.

Kelvin was a short, stocky guy with light brown hair and beard in a similar style to Jaden’s, only his hair was more wiry. He had a habit of touching his beard when his hands were idle. Conversely, Charlie’s hair was well-trimmed, and he maintained a dark goatee.

“Man, that was some crate.” Charlie said, his voice joyful.

“Like a plane engine falling through a roof,” Kelvin said, his voice flat. “Like in
Donnie Darko
.” He looked at Jaden as though waiting for a confirmation.

“What?” he asked.

Kelvin shook his head, waving it away. “Hey, Charlie and I were wondering if you wanted to, you know, go get some food with us. We can celebrate not being crushed by falling heavy stuff.”

Camaraderie. Because it was the three of them who saved Edgar from the fallen crate, they were somehow bonded. They’d shared an experience. From direct observation, and his reading, he knew a dramatic shared experience often lead to friendships. Edgar’s shattered knees were the catalyst. Friends know about each other, visited one another. They did things together, had conversations about current events and their families.

Jaden was ready to say a polite “No thanks” when last night’s conversation with Seth floated to the surface like a bloated dead body. For the past ten years he’d lived in solitude, avoiding people whenever possible, never having a conversation. Integrating had been harder than he’d thought, and even when he did try to fit in, he always pulled out at the first sign of trouble, usually when people asked the innocuous question “how are you?” or the lethal, “who are you?” But the three of them had taken part in an unusual incident, and there was nothing he could do to change that.

“I don’t know,” Jaden said.

“Come on. We’re going to Red Robin for some burgers and endless fries. It’s our Friday,” said Charlie.

From the corner of his eye Jaden saw Seth shake his head.

Feeling rebellious, Jaden said, “Okay,” then slammed his locker shut, nodding at Seth.

“Boo-ya,” said Kelvin, and the three of them walked to the parking lot.

“You’re really doing this?” Seth said. “Dinner with two people you don’t know? When they ask where you’re from, what will you say?”

Jaden shrugged, ignoring Seth. His stomach was busy throwing itself around like a sumo wrestler. A successful lie incorporated grains of truth. If they asked, he was from Northern California, Napa. He went to school there, then moved here to be closer to...Canada?

“Don’t do this,” Seth pleaded, suddenly serious. “There’s a reason you’ve kept to yourself. They’ll ask about you.”

No, he liked the cold weather and the rain, felt it refreshing. He had taken a few courses in college, but decided a full time education wasn’t in his financial plan. Even though it wasn’t true (none of it was) if they asked, Jaden, or Joel, liked manual labor and would probably wander the country picking up work here and there.

“When they ask about your family, what will you say? That your mother’s in prison and you haven’t seen her since you were a kid?” Seth dogged Jaden’s step, following him so closely, Jaden thought he felt breath on his neck.

He would lie about his mother, just like he would lie about everything else. The trick to friendship was constructing a believable lie, one so well-crafted and honed even Jaden could believe it. Perhaps this afternoon was his time to weave the tale.

Kelvin drove an old Toyota pickup truck. Driving together required, well, driving together, the three of them in one car. If he was going to get bothered about driving with two other people, this evening would never work. Of course it was hard, that was the reason he needed to do it, for the practice. The original plan ten years ago was to integrate into society. Ever since making the plan, he avoided any opportunity of assimilation. But no more. If he didn’t do it now at twenty-five, it would only get harder at thirty. Living five more years with Cat wasn’t happening.

Jaden squeezed into the back bench seat, his knees were cramped. The memory of Joseph stuffing him into the black cabinet flashed before his mind. Sitting in the back seat wasn’t going to work. He pushed himself out of the truck before Charlie could get inside.

“Is everything okay?” they asked.

He shook his head. “I can’t ride in the back.”

“Oh,” said Charlie, and he sat behind the passenger’s seat. “Sit up front then.”

A kind gesture. Jaden was hoping he wouldn’t volunteer the front seat, and he could’ve called the whole evening off. Instead, Jaden jumped into the passenger’s seat, strapped on his seat belt.

“Are you claustrophobic?” Kelvin asked in his flat voice.

Jaden nodded. They had no idea why, and he didn’t plan on telling them.

“A fear of tight spaces, huh? You have nightmares about being buried alive in a coffin, stuff like that?” Charlie asked.

No, but he might have one tonight, thanks for mentioning it. This was a bad idea.

“Not yet,” he answered instead, a compromise.

Kelvin put the truck into gear, and they drove off Harbor Island. Jaden’s stomach was so nauseous he was afraid for the interior of the car. It wasn’t such a big deal, he told himself, it was all in his head. How was talking with two guys he worked with any harder than events in his past?

“So Joel,” Charlie said from the back seat.

Oh crap, here it comes. The questions.

“Where are you from?”