Depths (23 page)

“
You look
lost.
”

I jumped a foot in the air at the voice and spun
back around.

A cashier sat inattentively behind the register,
reading a newspaper. Blank eyes peered up at me from behind
thick-rimmed glasses. His eyes seemed black to me, a sharp contrast
from the bright reflection of light that shown off the top of his
balding head. Seemed like a nice enough fellow, but strangely
familiar...

“
Can I help you with
something?
”
His voice was long and drawn
out. A hint of melancholy canvassed an otherwise bland tone. I
could shine a light through the gap in his front teeth.

“
I'm actually a little lost, I
must've taken a wrong turn. Can you tell me how to get back to
Memoir Street?
”

He casually flipped a page in his newspaper, taking
the time to read the headline and sighed. Something about a hit and
run driver killing a father and daughter who were on their way back
from dinner.

“
There's too much nonsense
nowadays. Too much killing and senselessness. It's selfish you
know?
”

I nodded in agreement, about to ask him again how to
get back to Memoir but he cut me off.

“
It only takes one person you
know, only one person to set off a tragedy that affects dozens,
maybe even hundreds. A ripple effect. Like this girl and her
daddy.
”

He pointed at the headline.

“
They were just on their way back
from dinner, celebrating her acceptance into school when some
fellow runs them down and doesn't even have the decency to stick
around. Too afraid of the consequences and concerned about his own
skin.
”

He shook his head and rested it, as if defeated, in
the palm of his hand.

“
But what are you going to do,
right?
”

Before I had a chance to respond, blood exploded
from his throat, spraying me in the face. The man clutched at his
gaping neck, futilely trying to stop the blood oozing out from
between his fingers. The shock on his face was overcome by the
realization of his helplessness, and he collapsed onto the counter
with a thud, before slipping off and onto the floor with a wet
squish as he hit the ground.

I had reeled back, trying to clean the blood out of
my eyes, when I heard a voice I knew all too well.

“
Whew! That sure was enough out of
him don't you think? Don't you hate it when someone has to go and
explain every little detail about every little thing they read, or
hear or see, and then try to give it some sort of deeper meaning,
their own interpretation? Picking out the morals and the symbolism
and the blah blah blah instead of just taking things for what they
are and moving on? Half of what you read about or see on TV is all
bullshit, but people have to go and apply meaning to
shit
. You get these
movies, just movies that are there to entertain, and some asshole
critic has to go and talk about the socio-political messages behind
it. Well guess what, it wasn
’t a social
commentary or a political movie. So why is that asshole criticizing
the social messages and political commentary?
It
’
s just a fucking movie!
”

The Voice stepped out from behind the counter and
wiped his blade off on his navy-blue shirt.

“
You get old fucks like him who
want to try and spoil everything for you. What if you had wanted to
read that article huh? Doesn't seem like there's much of a point
now does it? You've already got your own preconceived opinions
about it all and it won’t even be worth reading. The guy already
gave away the ending. It wouldn't be very much fun for you to read
it now, would it?
”

I backed away as he moved closer. I was beyond being
afraid of The Voice, but that doesn't mean I felt comfortable when
he had a knife in his hands.

“
He wasn't there now was he? He
doesn't know what
really
happened, he just saw some words printed on a
piece of paper and then decided he could go and give a sweeping
generalization of the character of the person who hit them, when he
doesn't even know anything about that person. Shit, he
could
’ve had the right-of-way and they
jumped out in front of his car. I mean, it
’
s unlikely, but even if that were the case,
he
’
s already been demonized and
he
’
d still be the bad guy even if he
wasn
’
t at fault.
”

He stopped walking towards me and leaned against the
counter, glancing over it at the man behind.

“
So then you get some asshole who
tries to fill in the blanks and over analyze, when really, the only
people who are ever going to know what
actually
happened are the people who
were involved. A journalist doesn
’t
really
know, just like a
critic doesn
’
t know the movie
creator
’
s state of mind, or the symbolism
of what an author wrote.
”

He looked down at his shirt as if just now noticing
the blood stains.

“
Christ, I made a mess. Hey look,
take a left at the light, follow the street down for about two
miles and you'll make a right at Chestnut and then take the first
left after that. You'll hit Memoir in about a mile. How many times
do I have to tell you?
”

How many times
did
he have to tell me?

“
Cat got your tongue? Come on,
let's get out of here. Don't you have somewhere to be?
”

With that he dropped his knife and walked past me to
the door.

“
You comin' or what?
”

Did I really have a choice?
I
did
need to be
somewhere. I couldn't really remember where though. Lunch? There
was a diner not too far away. Or was I seeing
her?

“
I'm driving, toss me the
keys.
”

Without even thinking about it I reached into my
pocket and grabbed the keys, tossing them over to him. He opened
the doors up and I got in the passenger seat, the door shut and
clicked behind me. God I loved that sound. It meant I was going
somewhere.

“
Oh and hey,
”
he buckled his seat belt and looked over at me.
“You do know it's Monday right?
”

“
Yup.
”

“
And the significance of it being
Monday is that...
”

“
I know,
”
I interrupted.

“
Well good. Buckle up.
”

I clicked my belt in, sat back and relaxed. I could
let him drive for a while. I was tired and I always hated
Mondays.

And...